#AND HE DOES THE PLOP SOUND EFFECT TOO

[hanniejji]

IM IN LOVE WITH THIS MAN

[jjenthusee]

Woven Hands

jason todd x reader

A/N: thank u to @heavysighing-dreamyeyes for their post linked here for their jason headcanons, they got me dancing and swinging my feet while I wait for my classes. 🤭 ENJOY my small drabble, tell me ur thoughts in the comments :D

also small rant but tell me why i never undated my tumblr app and i was struggling for so long and everything didn’t look like how it was supposed to? 😀 please don’t be like me and update yo shiz like responsible human beings

“Don’t make me do this.” You muttered, standing on top of the couch cushions, water gun hoisted in your pocket, filled completely with sink water.

You felt the weight of the water droop in your pants, you squinted, trying to frighten your opponent. You didn’t have a holster, so your sweatpants pocket was the next best thing.

The couch increased your height, made you stand tall, allowed your voice to be more direct. You wanted to overpower Jason, part-time Red Hood, full time smack talker.

“And what are you gonna do if I don’t listen?” Jason’s eyes lowered, voice deepening to a menacing tone. Invisible cowboy hat tilted on his head.

He stood tall, spreading his legs shoulder width apart, letting muscle memory place him in an opposing stance that’s proven effective each time someone has tried to stupidly test the Red Hood.

He lowered his hands, fingers dancing in the air as he waited to reach for his water gun in his holster.

Lucky fucker was wearing a holster because he’s the Red Hood. Not only does he get a cheat, but he has two water guns?

Completely absurd.

“You might not live long enough to find out.” You tilted your chin up, trying to attempt to be arrogant, but the smirk on Jason’s face was telling you it wasn’t as effective as you hoped.

Maybe if you could actually be taller than him, it would make you sound tough, but looking from just above his eye-level was the best you were going to get.

Jason’s shook his head, slowly, calculating your moves as he never took his eyes off of you.

You met his stare, never blinking as you watched.

You could feel your eyes wavering, shaking the longer you looked.

Jason was calm, his stare locked onto you. Countless interrogations under his belt, aiding him the experience you didn’t have.

“You know we both can’t walk away from this. We have too much history.” He spoke, letting the words settle between your showdown.

You firmly frowned.

“I stand by what I said and if you can’t live with that…I guess you leave me with no other choice.” You quickly grabbed your water gun, angling it to your partner.

By the time you could pull the trigger, water was hitting your shirt. Soaking into your skin as you looked down, watching the fabric darken.

Like in slow motion, you fell to your knees, watching Jason also get his shirt soaked, but not nearly enough as yours.

“No, no, it wasn’t supposed to end like this.” You dropped your plastic water gun, reaching up with your free hands to grab your shirt.

You plopped down onto the couch, letting your body go limp as you laid there.

“I told you, only one of us would walk away from this.” Jason walked over, kneeling next to the couch, where your body lay.

You reach up, feigning shaking hands as you reached for the muscular man with his imaginary cowboy hat.

You gestured for Jason to lean closer, following along with your antics.

You carefully lowered your voice to a whisper, a final wish.

“Delete my search history.”

You closed your eyes, arms going limp as you stuck your tongue out in a bad rendition of fake dying.

Jason laughed, reaching out to grab your hands in between his warm ones.

You never moved, zeroing in on the feeling of your fingers.

Soft caresses. A small peck before Jason littered your knuckles in kisses. Kissing down to your finger tips, then repeating down to your wrists.

“I should’ve chosen a sword fight, how could I choose water guns of all things?” You opened your eyes, shaking your head as Jason continued to worship your skin.

“You’re just pouting.” He said in between kisses, nose pressed into your palm.

“Come on, you always get to kiss my hands, when can I hold yours?” You watched carefully, thoughts slowly lost to the repeated warmth from Jason’s lips.

“Wanna sword fight to find out?” Jason smiled into your hands.

end a/n: serial hand kisser jason changed my life, thank u pooks for ur headcanons and restructuring my brain. and thank u 🫵 for reading my drabble, i just thought this was a silly idea :D

[eggyrocks]

35MM CHAPTER EIGHT: weird and also hurtful

track number eight: everybody wants to love you by japanese breakfast

masterlist

When presented with the option of sitting on Akaashi's couch or on a chair at his kitchen table, she opts in for the floor. She's sits, cross-legged, by his coffee table, chewing on the inside of her cheek. Her attention switches between the screen of her laptop and the curry Akaashi sloppily plopped onto a ceramic plate from its Styrofoam container.

"Thanks for dinner," she says through a mouthful of food, and her hands are already back to typing.

Akaashi smiles. A soft, semi-reluctant one that tugs at the corner of his lips. "No problem," he replies, watching her. He likes the look she gets in her eyes when she focuses. They're heavy, strained from the weight of constantly keeping them opened to stare at the bright light of her screen. But they’re still focused, intense.

She looks nice, there, in his apartment. Like she fits. Her presence changes it. It doesn't feel too big, when she's there. The thought makes his gut twist up in guilt.

His smile drops, and he focuses his attention on his own, blank, laptop screen before him. She’s finalizing details, getting the filming schedule and completed script out to the actors and she told him not to worry about it. Just to focus on his essay for now.

But, and it’s actually sort of pathetic, he can’t really focus on anything when she’s around. He kind of just wants to listen to her talk.

If he had known he’d end up feeling like this, he’s not sure he would’ve asked for her help. He contemplates if the drastic increase in quality of his project is well and truly worth it. Because since she started helping him, he’s noticed things about her he’s never noticed before.

The diligence with which she comes at every task presented to her. Her dedication to her passions and the way her face lights up at the opportunity to speak about them. This enigmatic sort of charm she seems to have on everyone around her without even really trying. The way her laughter has an effect on his spine. How her smile fries up his thoughts.

His apartment is filled with the sound of her fingers against the keyboard, and a low hum that comes from her throat. Akaashi’s fingers twitch against the keyboard, and he very deliberately reminds himself of who exactly she is to him.

-> fun facts!

incel in the film class dropped the "you will not be a successful director because you lack the male gaze" line and even had the audacity to cite bret easton ellis and yn called him a "weird virgin loser with a vendetta against women that won't sleep with him" and left

the professor is quickly and rapidly drafting an email trying to figure out the best way to handle this situation she will absolutely be discussing this class with her colleagues

another new ground mention cause now it’s cannon in the 35mm universe

kenma has yn has on the payroll; he pays her to edit his youtube videos

noya had to borrow a telescope for the astronomy class he's taking; he enrolled to fulfill the general requirement because he thought it was astrology

taglist: @wyrcan @thechaosoflonging @publicbathroompanic @bedeater @rottingt1tz @rintarawr @deluluforcarlos55 @ahseyy @localgaytrainwreck @cherrypieyourface @baskin-robinhoods @polish-cereal @iheartamora @ferntv @eclecticeggknightpsychic @httpakkeiji @does-directions @needtoloveoutloud @rinheartshyunlix @causenessus @bookworm-center @kettlepop @makkiroll @atsumou @eyes-ofhell @kawaii-angelanne @ryeyeyer @k8nicole @mydearchoso @phoenix-eclipses @lixie-phoria @suitstars @reneny @scxrcherr @ueknightbl @iluvaquaphor @sleezzsister @barricadesenthusiast @staygoldsquatchling02 @nemesii @sereniteav @crimsoncamra @gsyche @evening-latte @rrosiitas @kunimix @kitnootkat @aquariarose @iluv-ace @sparkei (taglist is closed)

[stormz369]

☕💖 Can I Get Your Number? ☕💖 Ch 1

Jason Todd x Chubby! Reader (fem) A/N: I don't know what I'm doing here, I'm not even much of a DC fan, but Jason Todd has quickly become my latest hyper fixation character (Harley Quinn too, do I just have a thing for Joker victims???) so ... thank you for giving me a place to put this energy I guess! 😂 I'm not super confident on the characterizations, but I'm going with it because I like it. If it's wildly ooc ... that tracks, given that the only DC comic I've read is Batman: Wayne Family Adventures. Read it, or don't, I just needed to get the thoughts out of my head. The art doesn't belong to me, but the writing does. Please do not post elsewhere!

written with a female reader in mind, first person pov, no use of Y/N, starting out fluffy, will probably get NSFW later so minors DNI, let me know if there's anything else I should tag this with!

word count: 1.7k

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

In a city known for its masked fighters, you learn pretty quickly that everyone and everything is a potential threat. Every approaching stranger on the street, every loud sound behind you, every dark alleyway. Being bigger than me certainly isn't a prerequisite to being a danger, but it does have a way of setting off my mental alarms. I've found that big men are used to getting their way, and they get all sorts of bent out of shape if you deny them their wishes. Especially when they think they're doing you a favor.

It died down a bit after high school; I learned to exist in public with ‘fuck off’ stamped across my face. Headphones on, reading a book, intentionally seated at the table furthest from the other cafe patrons. All the typical signs of someone who wants to be left alone; nothing about me said ‘please come talk to me'. So I was understandably on edge when I noticed someone standing by the chair across from me. I look up just a bit, gesturing to the chair with a nod. Silent consent to take it back to his table and leave me to my book.

No such luck. The man simply smiled and mimed taking headphones off. Putting a bored look on my face, I moved one off my ear. “... Hm?”

“Hi! I'm sorry to bother you, but my brother thinks you're really beautiful and is refusing to come tell you himself.” 

I could feel my expression turning to stone. “... What is this, middle school?”

His cheerful grin faltered ever so slightly; “hey, I know it's a bit silly, but he's awkward around cute girls, so what's a brother to do, ya know?”

I stared him down; “... You're not fooling anyone. Move on.”

“... Sorry, ‘fooling anyone’?”

“It’s not funny, it’s not even hurtful the 20th time, it's just annoying. Go. Away.” It was a lie; it was always painful to be on the receiving end of these pranks. But that was what these guys wanted, so I wasn't going to tell him that. My headphones back in place, the guy slunk away.

Ten minutes later, another person was standing by the chair. I pretended not to see him, continuing to read my book, until he plopped down in the seat. I looked up slowly and he smiled, another oddly warm smile, leaning forward on his elbows.

An incredibly put-out sigh later, I slid the headphones off one ear again. “What?”

“Hi, I'm Tim! I'm not sure what exactly my brother said to you, but I wanted to let you know - we're not trying to prank you or something. Our brother is just way too awkward with girls. It's painful to watch, really, so we figured we'd give him a hand.” He spoke much too fast for me to get a word in. I blinked a bit, raising an eyebrow.

“... You frat boys are really committing to the bit these days, huh?”

“Huh? No, really, I promise!”

My headphones were nearly back into place when a child showed up. His impatient expression matched how I felt about the whole situation. “As usual, Drake, your plans are far too convoluted to be effective. Watch and learn.”

He turned to me, nothing about his demeanor changing; “hello. Todd said we shouldn't bother you because you ‘clearly want to be alone’, but I am convinced the only way to stop their nonsense is if he comes over. May he have a moment of your time?”

Frowning a little, I stared at the kid. He stared right back, neither of us blinking for a solid minute as we sussed each other out. His expression barely changed, but the boredom in his eyes turned into determination. “... Well, you're definitely not a frat boy. So I'll make you a deal; you may report back that he has permission to come say hi. If he doesn't choose to, that's the end of this little charade. And if either of them” I gestured to the one sitting at my table; “comes back over here, I start stabbing. Got it?”

The boy nodded once, and I thought I saw a ghost of a smirk. “You have my word.” He dragged the other man out of the chair by his shirt, pulling him stumbling toward their table. That was when I saw him. The only person at their table who hadn't come over yet. Even hunched over the table he was enormous, probably close to six feet tall; exactly the kind of man I typically avoided. The kid spoke sharply, pointing in my direction, and his head shot up to look in my direction. Even from across the spacious patio, I could see his face turning red. The obnoxious, cocky smirk I was expecting to see was entirely missing; instead he seemed almost confused.

Headphones back on but turned off so I could hear if he approached, I returned to my book. But I only got through a few pages before the first one shouted; “and offer to get her another coffee or something!”

I looked over to see the tall one frozen halfway between our tables, a look on his face like he was considering jumping over the patio fence to get away. His demeanor reminded me of a lost puppy, and I couldn't help the chuckle that rose up out of my throat. I bookmarked my page, set the book aside, and slid my headphones down around my neck. I really thought he was about to bolt until I lifted one hand, curling my fingers to gesture for him to continue toward me.

He stopped short by a good several feet, eyeing the distance between himself and the chair, and took one extra step back. It seemed as if he was hyper aware of just how much he loomed over me; the way he stood was like he was trying to will himself to be smaller, and he kept his hands at his sides. “Um … hi. … Sorry, this is … this is really weird …”

I nodded, watching him. “It is a bit. … Todd, was it?”

“Jay… Jason.”

“Not Todd?”

“Jason Todd. Damian calls me Todd, he thinks using people's last names keeps them at an arm's length…” Jason Todd. The name felt familiar, but I couldn't place why. He continued to ramble about how important tone was in determining whether this Damian kid was referring to you with affection or disdain, and I watched him. He was admittedly very cute; he had a sort of a bad boy aesthetic -leather jacket, dark clothes, a white streak in his hair, some unusual scars on his face and arms-, which juxtaposed interestingly with the gentleness in his voice, bright eyes, and awkward mannerisms. That was actually the thing that made the most sense about this situation; bikers are often secret teddy bears.

“... Jason?”

He looked up at me, one hand sheepishly making its way into his hair. “Yeah, sorry, you want me to go. I'll get them to stop harassing you, so sorry-”

“Actually, I was going to say you don't have to stand the whole time.” I gestured to the chair across from me.

He hesitated, watching me. “... Y- you don't want me to go?”

I smiled softly and shook my head. “Sit?”

He quickly obeyed, a hesitant smile on his face, which was almost immediately hidden by his hand when his brothers whooped from their table. “... God, I'm so sorry … th- they mean well, really, they're not trying to be weird …”

I laughed softly, “it's fine, that's what siblings do, right?”

“... I guess so … I've been sort of … away for a while, but I guess this is pretty standard sibling behavior. … Right?”

“I mean, a little more insistent than mine, but not too far outside the realm of what I’d consider normal.” I shrugged, finishing my chai latte.

He smiled slightly, considering that. “... Hm … um … c- can I get you another?” He gestured to my cup.

“... Sure, I've got time.”

The pleased grin on his face as he looked away to flag down a server surprised me. Then again, everything about him was surprising. Still, no one had ever looked at me quite like that before… 

The server sauntered over, clearly curious about my new companion. Jason smiled brightly; “Hi, can we get another for the lady? And I'll have a medium black coffee, sweet, please.”

Huh. He called me a ‘lady’. Not a girl, or a chick, a lady. That was … also surprising. We chatted for a little while, sipping our coffees, and tried to ignore his staring brothers. He was incredibly awkward, in a sweet, endearing way. I got the impression that he wasn't fully comfortable, but chalked it up to how weirdly this all started. After a while, the first one returned, a small grimace on his face.

I raised an eyebrow; “I'm pretty sure I told the little one that the next one of you to come over was getting stabbed.”

“I know, I know! I'm so sorry, but Jay, we gotta go. Bruce texted…”

That was when it clicked; why I knew the name Jason Todd. He was a Wayne … his death had dominated the news cycle for a week. His miraculous, frankly poorly explained, return was the story for at least two.

He looked, torn, between me and his brother. “Oh … um …”

The man I finally recognized as Dick Grayson leaned forward and fake-whispered, “the words you're looking for are ‘can I have your phone number'?”

Jason swatted him away, blushing bright red; “Seriously, Dick? … well, can I-”

His ears were turning red as I held my hand out for his phone. I added my contact info and, feeling unusually bold, I added ☕💖 after my name while Jason dropped a couple of bills on the table; I smiled a bit, realizing he was leaving enough to cover my first drink for me too. I passed his phone back, enjoying the look of wonder on his face when he checked the screen. The way he whispered my name, like a prayer meant only for god's ears, had my stomach doing backflips.

“thanks … I'll call you?”

“Sounds good. I'm a night owl, so not too early, yeah?”

He nodded eagerly. “Not too early, promise.”

Next ->

[empress-simps]

For poly!marauders request (I saw you asked for some) could you do one where the reader faints out of nowhere and the boys get all panicked and worried and fret over her? 🌙

Hii! Thank you for the great request🫶🏻 It’ll be the first time I do a Poly!Marauder fic so pls do bear with me, I tweaked it a bit, hope you enjoy!

Worried Sick

Pairings: Poly!Marauders x Reader

CW: Mentions of toxic habits, Sirius being an arse, reader fainting, and language.

To say that you were tired would be an understatement. You were exhausted- mentally, and physically as you were buried in a mountain of books, flipping through almost a hundred pages an hour as you tried to juggle three essays and review for NEWTS all at once.

You were so immersed in your studying, the sound of pages flipping and scratching of the quill against parchment made you slip into a hyper-focused mode that you don’t notice the passage of time making you effectively miss lunch and dinner.

“There’s my smart darling!”

Sirius grins, sneaking up to you and kissing your cheek. You jolted, looking up as you saw him, and your other boyfriends sit next to you in the library.

“Hey guys.” You try your best to muster up a cheery smile for them. Remus, who was seated beside you frowns as he notices your pale and tired face. “We haven’t seen you today, love.” You smiled sheepishly, “I was finishing up the essays we’re assigned this week.” Sirius shakes his head in a disapproving manner. “Darling, you know we could just copy off of Remus’s essay when he does it, right?” A protest from Remus was heard, making you chuckle.

“I don’t think our moony would appreciate that.” You cracked a small smile, “But he lets us copy off of his essays ever since we can remember!” James defended Sirius who nodded agreeingly.

“What we would appreciate though, is you not missing out on dinner.” Remus told you, pulling out an apple and two dishes that the house elves prepared, (bribed by James) placing it in front of you.

“Erm... I don’t really have an appetite right now, love.” You grimaced, seeing the stern expression of the werewolf. “You need to eat, darling.” James pleads, puppy eyes activating. You looked at the other two, they seemed to mirror James. “Please love, you’re making us worried sick.” Remus gently pushed the food in your direction.

“Alright then…” How could you possibly deny your adorable boyfriends?

This continued for a few days or so, each day got the boys increasingly worried than yesterday. Sleeping for four hours (five if you’re lucky) and studying all day became your new routine, you hardly even spend time with the boys anymore, only during breakfast at the great hall since you mostly skip lunch and dinner to study. If it weren’t for your friends and your boyfriends, you would’ve already starved.

You groaned, plopping down in between Remus and James, taking a bite of the toast in front of you, and ignoring the light headedness you were feeling since you woke up. Marlene looked up from her plate and winced as she took in the sight of you.

“Merlin, y/n. You look worse than a dementor.”

“Thanks Marls, appreciate it.” You grumbled, taking a swig of the pumpkin juice, grimacing as you felt that a huge gulp of the beverage and a small bite of toast was too much for your stomach to handle.

“I’m serious, when was the last time you had a good night’s rest?” She frowns, shaking her head as she gave a pointed look at your boyfriends. “There’s already three of you and you can’t even manage to take care of your girl?”

“Not my fault she chooses to stick her nose into books rather than spending time with us.” Sirius huffed, crossing his arms over his chest, his dramatic and petty side surfacing. “Pads.” Remus warns, the light headedness that you’ve felt suddenly worsens as you feel the urge to throw up. Lily seemed to notice, shooting a worried glance on your way as you waved it off.

“What Moony? It’s true! It’s like she forgot she even is in a committed relationship with us.” Sirius spat, getting riled up as James tried to diffuse the situation.  “Sirius, I already said I’m sorry…” She rasped out, trying to reach for his hand but he jerked it away. “Don’t be a knobhead, Pads.” Remus glares at him, irritated by how he’s acting.

Sirius rolled his eyes, it was obvious that he was hurt; You rarely spend time with them anymore, accidentally pushing them away and shutting them out just because of those stupid academics. “Whatever.” He grunts, and stands up, walking away from the table.

You felt yourself get weak; as the great hall spins around you, cold sweat started to form on your temple as spots slowly made it’s wany into your vision. Despite your body practically screaming for you to just sit and stay still, you push yourself from the benches and follow him. “Sirius, love- “He turns to you, frowning. “What now?”

 You opened your mouth, about to say a word when suddenly your legs gave out, the spots grew larger as you tried to look at Sirius before your world suddenly faded to black. You heard screams from the students, the loudest ones you recognized were from your friends, especially Marlene and Lily.

“Shit!” Sirius was thankful for his awfully fast reflexes that he managed to catch you before you hit your head on the cold floor. James and Remus rushed to the both of you. “Bloody hell, Pads!” James kneels in front of you, gently tapping your cheek as a sense of urgency surrounds them. “Darling, please open your eyes, can you hear me?” James asked you, every second that ticks makes the feeling of dread in his stomach grow larger.

“P-prongs, Moony… I promise I didn’t know she was going to faint…” Sirius whimpered as he cradles you, eyes looking frazzled and darting back and forth between his lovers. James felt his breath become faster, as you didn’t respond to any of his attempts. Other students started to gather around to take a peek on what’s happening in the middle of the great hall while Marlene and the other Gryffindor students kept them from nearing. Remus knelt next to James, trying not to freak out like what the other two are already doing. He slowly placed his trembling hand on your forehead. “No fever, but we need to take her to Madame Pomfrey.” He announces, biting his lip as Sirius lifts you up bridal style, the three of them rushing you to the hospital wing.

The bright and harsh light of the hospital wing made you wince, you slowly blink, trying to adjust to the brightness of your surroundings. “Darling! You’re awake!” James tackles you into a hug, almost squeezing out the air from your lungs.

“Prongs! Be careful!” Remus’s tone was harsh, as if scolding James. The boy slowly pulled away, pouting, which Remus had ignored. “How are you, love?” Remus’s gaze softened as he looked in your direction, taking your hand in his as he rubbed circles in the back of your hand.

 “For the most part, I’m fine.” You croaked out, James immediately gave you water. After taking a few sips, you let your eyes wander around, someone was missing- Where’s Sirius?

James seemed to catch on this, “He’s outside, beating himself up for being an arsehole.” You frowned, “Can you please tell him to come in? I want to see him…” You mumbled, James nodded and fetched Sirius outside of the hospital wing.

After a short while, Sirius emerged, darting his eyes anywhere but onto you. “Love…” You gently called out to him; Sirius bit his lip as he finally took in the sight of you. “Darling, I’m sorry. I was such an arse to you.” He sincerely apologized while you shake your head, “I’m sorry too, I was stressing out too much. I barely even managed to take care of myself and spend time with you guys.”

“Just don’t do it again, darling. We almost lost our minds when you fainted.” James told you as he tucks stray hair behind your ear.

“I won’t do that again; I’ll just copy off of Moony’s work.” She chuckled, glancing at the said boy, she saw the twinkle in his eyes as he smiled and rolled his eyes playfully.

The sun’s rays filtered out in the curtains of the hospital wing, encasing the four in a warm glow as they conversed amongst themselves, putting the events behind them; silently promising to love and care for each other, through thick and thin.

[faeriekit]

Health and Hybrids (XXVII)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters  for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

🖤Chapter navigation can be found here🖤 Click to browse previous updates.

💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts 💚 (now featuring mediocre mouseover translations, only available on a computer)

Where we last left off... Danny has another hashtag breakdown! Diana helps mediate. Stinky Dad and the Alien Guy observe.

Trigger warnings for this story:  body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) |  my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

Danny’s space-watching time is very important to him. He’s pretty sure it’s on his schedule, even.

Every few days—and even more days in a week, now that people are relatively certain that he’s not going to start hitting the medical staff—Danny gets wheeled over to the big window to stare out at the moon.

The moon hasn’t changed all that much since his first few visits, since. You know. It’s in space. Still, the stars shift in their positions, and sometimes they face Earth, and sometimes they do not, and a couple times Danny sees people flying out there, which is super neat.

Sometimes Danny sees maintenance workers out doing repairs on their buildings, too. They wave back at him when they’re not busy or carrying something, which makes Danny’s core bubble and spark with joy.

So, Danny is watching the stars twinkle in the sky with all the meditative calm his Obsession requires when something plops onto his head. It doesn’t hurt, but it does put pressure onto his neck. Ow.

Danny hisses automatically, but he already knows who it is—the quick-fast-kid-who-hasn’t-introduced-himself practically vibrates against Danny’s skin, all excited by omg/omg/misch/iefomg.

Typical. Danny wants to feign a bite, but his neck kind of hurts. He settles for grumbling. “What?”

“Dude,” the teenager says, or, uh, Danny approximates he says something kind of like dude, anyway— “Want to come see a feoht?”

Uh. “A what?” Danny asks, ignoring how the guy’s chin keeps digging into his scalp. It might be the most non-medical physical contact Danny’s had since he broke down with Diana. Maybe.

The teen backs up, and models some very quick punches into the air, making his own sound effects to match. It’s all very impressive, or whatever. Danny’s not going to applaud, though; his arms are tired.

“…Sure.” It’s not like Danny has anything better to do.

“Berstan!” the kid chirps, and—

Danny clamps down on his wheelchair wheels because holycraptheyaremoVINGFAST. His wheels aren’t on the ground—the teen is carrying him, chair and all—!

He’s going to be in so much trouble for running. Danny’s wheels touch the ground, and he drops straight to the floor. His hands shake all the way up to his elbows as he grips his wheels. He is going to be in so much trouble when the nurses look for him and he’s not there.

Oh no. Oh no.

“Here we are!” the quickfast teenager announces, grinning. They’re in a room with a big, rubberized floor. It’s basketball orange. The rest of the room is virtually indistinguishable from the cloth folding walls Casper High uses to divide the gym into smaller gyms—giant cloth panels line every surface that isn’t the floor. Walls. Ceiling.

Well. It’s certainly…sound dampening. There’s vents, though. So. At least they can breathe.

The other teenagers Danny recognizes yell out to them, cheerful as ever. One waves—the kid behind him waves back, and then they’re all clustered together, pleased and breathing heavy and slightly sweaty.

“Feel alright?” one teen asks—Danny recognizes him after a second; he usually has a leather jacket on over his brightly colored shirt. He isn’t sure what the huge S is for, but hey, it’s a cool emblem or whatever. Danny used to have his initial on his…

…Danny doesn’t want to think about that, actually. He doesn’t want to think about anything about home at all.

Oh. Someone asked him a question, and now they’re all looking at him for answers. Danny nods jerkily—something sloshes inside his skull, though, which. Ew. He scrunches his face up when everyone else starts to look worried about his expression, though; it’s no big deal! It’s just! Gross!

The boy who is very fast pats his hand before sliding to the other side of the room. There are buttons there, which he presses; the room shifts, just a little, to make a piece of the floor turn away in favor of a rack of weapons. The teenager who’s always masked, but is now in an exercise shirt, whistles approvingly, and two of the teens—whoah—start flying off to grab at the equipment available.

…There’s some cool stuff there. Danny. Danny might…

He doesn’t want to fight, per se, but. Um. Weaponry is intrinsically cool. There’s no doubt about it. Half the reason he liked to play Doomed was collecting the newest and coolest weapon to blast at all his enemies with! And Tuc—

—and—

—Tucker—

Something clicks right up in front of Danny’s face.

He flinches.

“You good?” the teenager asks, big blue eyes on him as Danny struggles to breathe. “Do you want hweorfan?”

Danny gasps around three uneasy breaths before his ears catch up. Or. Well, his ears work, but his brain doesn’t know what the teen is saying?? Danny shakes his head anyway—he doesn’t want more to happen. He wants less.

The teenager frowns. Danny immediately worries that he did something wrong. “Okay, but tell me if you change your mod.”

As soon as Danny figures out what that is? Sure. He’ll tell him.

In the meantime, the kids split up into groups; one set of two goes to one side of the gym and the other goes in the air, floating on the other si— wait, they can float??

…Danny stares, and two ostensibly human-looking teenagers take to the air, loudly teasing the two left on the ground, and, yeah. They’re flying. Danny watches as the one on the ground starts counting, ready to start their match, only to interrupt his own countdown for a sneak-attack at the start and a PIFF of a smoke bomb going off. Danny can’t see the buzzing kid disappear from sight as the air begins to thicken, but there’s a distinct taste of JOY/games/VICIOUS that flutters through him that tells Danny that, wherever he is in that smoke cloud, he’s living his best life.

 And. Well.

The fighting is—there isn’t a better word for it, it’s just so damn cool. There’s kicking and punching and throwing and tossing and—sure, Danny can take a few hits and deal out some surprise punches when he has to, but these kids know what they’re doing, which is so cool, because once Danny lost the benefit of gravity mid-fight basically everything Mom had trained in him had been thrown out the window. The physics were just never right.

(And— Mom—)

Like, all the punches are happening at speeds that Danny can only kind of follow. His neck starts hurting from trying to follow them—but he can’t stop watching, and the kids are really having a blast. They’re laughing. They’re teasing. They show off, even, stopping to pose and flex and be admired by their sole observer, which Danny obliges with some gentle claps. The others are quick to jump on any distraction, though, and are more than willing to have Danny be the center of attention while they sneak up on showstoppers, stick or lasso in hand.

On one hand, Danny should probably be more alarmed by the sight of kids acting as literal child soldiers training to be combat ready. He…he’s pretty sure he’s meant to be one of them as soon as he’s recovered enough to get trained.

And…it is scary. It is kind of a scary thought that Danny might have to go back to…go back to fighting and getting hit and hitting and everything that fighting means.

On the other hand, there’s no one here. All the kids here are Danny’s age, and they’re not fighting because someone is making them; they’re having fun, and their job is to help people.

…Danny puts his legs higher up on his wheelchair, until he can wrap his arms around his knees. They’re supposed to beat up threats, but they don’t think that Danny’s a threat. They’re letting him sleep in a bed and get medical care and making sure he gets medication and everything. They let him hang out with their children and he has toys and fidgets to pass the time, and maybe he’ll have to pay them back later, but… isn’t helping out because he got helped only fair?

And they let non-humans live on Earth! That one teen’s stinky dad said that they could help Danny stay on Earth, he thinks. Or, uh, it’s what he thinks the green guy translated that as? So as long as he doesn’t leave, they could even protect him from the— all the bad stuff on Earth! So really, all Danny has to do is work on getting better. He’s safe here. Diana is here, the stinky dad is here, and there’s a whole team of super-people with super powers ready to help people.

Danny’s safe. He’s calm. He’s fine. He’s…worried that Diana doesn’t know where he is, but she’s smart and there’s probably cameras.

He watches the teens play around with various weaponry like they’re his model rocket. There’re thrown projectiles and giant hammers and dodgeballs and sticks, staves, and lassos; someone pulls out a shield, of all things, glittering gold and gleaming with something that itches at the back of Danny’s eyeball, and there’s a gun that sh—

Danny only breaks out of the memory of RUNNINGRUNNINGRUNNING when he realizes that someone is holding him. He’s choking. He doesn’t know who’s holding him, but they’re not hurting him right now and he can see a crowd of other colorful figures around him, which means he’s not with the Guys in White.

He’s hyperventilating. He can’t help it. He can’t stop it! His lungs hurt and there’s no end to the stress pressing out of his chest. Someone is holding him; where’s his chair? Did he lose it?? That’s really expensive medical equipment—they’re going to be so mad at him—!

Someone lifts him out of the stranger’s arms. It’s one of the older quick-buzzing humans. Not the teenager, and not the oldest one, he thinks. Danny can’t tell. He can’t breathe, and it’s hard to focus.

He’s shushing Danny like he’s a kid. Danny would be insulted, except he can’t breathe, and he really wants someone to help him, and his eyes are all weird and he can’t see and he doesn’t know where he is and his core hurts and his chair is gone—

Oh. The guy puts Danny’s hand on his chest and models breathing in with one big, visible breath.

Danny breathes in.

The guy models breathing out. It’s a long, slow breath.

…Danny struggles through the follow-through, but he manages. Well. He chokes hard enough to cough, twice, but…close enough.

The colorful forms milling about slowly disperse, until it’s largely just Danny, and the fast guy radiating very measured levels of calm, and his friend in black and blue, who is eating a sandwich. They breathe in, and they breathe out. That one guy eats his sandwich.

Danny looks around. He’s…the room he’s in is really big. Tables. Benches. Little stands of foo… Oh. He’s in a cafeteria. Cool.

…He squints through the new haze of green in his eyes. He’s probably strained something, but there are more important things at stake here: can he get some real food here?

“Where is here?” Danny asks. Rasps. He’s mostly horizontal, so manipulating his head around to glance at his surroundings is kind of a strain on his neck. Is that a hot dog cart?

“Wistheall,” the two say simultaneously—the guy in black and blue and a bird on his chest swallows his sandwich. “…Want a snakka?”

You know what? Danny’s going to assume that this means a snack. Sure! Why not. Nodding his head so quickly hurts, but he’s also not walking anywhere, so it’s not like it’s a full-body pain. The buzzing-quick guy sort of just…carries him around and asks Danny what he wants, and the bird guy gets it for him.

The little vibrations the guy is giving off are tinged a little with wor/ryworry/worry, but the guy’s mostly…at peace? Forcibly shoved it all down? Danny and the guy are practically chest to chest at this point, so it’s probably just that Danny’s close enough to feel even really quiet things.

His suit is super smooth, by the way. It’s not, like, skintight—there’s a little armor underneath, Danny can feel—but the fabric itself is like super slick. It’s cool. Texturally.

Also, he gives Danny a tube of something that are clearly off-brand Prongles, so Danny’s mostly just enjoying that instead of wondering what’s up with this guy and his friend.

“Are you okay?” the guy finally asks, his chatter mostly winding down into a question Danny can recognize. Danny swallows his bite of chips with a swig from his water bottle, and nods. He’s…unsettled, but he’s fine. He doesn’t know where he is, but he didn’t know where the teenagers had left him either, so this is about what he expected.

Even under his red hood-and-mask, the guy’s eyes are kind. Kinda worried. Not mean. “Something bad happened?”

…Danny looks back at his chips. Something bad happened, but it didn’t happen recently. “No,” Danny muttered around the crumbs in his mouth. He swallowed dryly. “Not…not now.”

The vibrations slow, and dim, melancholy lacing through the air. The sensation makes Danny itch. “Before?”

Danny nods. He thinks about his body melting from the outside in, his face dripping off in chunks of wet matter, his throat torn open still screaming.

“It was a—“ Danny tries, but he doesn’t actually know their word for gun or blaster. He just forces his fingers to make a familiar symbol, holding his own middle and end fingers back, leaving a shaking, uncomfortable thumb and pointer.

The quiet pew pew sound effects probably aren’t necessary, but the more detail, the better, or something like that.

Danny remembers how hot it got. Just…all the heat and light, and he could smell smoke right up until he couldn’t. And his face…everything hurt—everything still hurts, even—but the scary point had been when suddenly his face hadn’t hurt, and there was nothing left to feel.

…The guy holding him pulls Danny’s fingers away from his face. Oh. Danny was pulling at his still-green, still-healing wound. He. Uh. He doesn’t remember starting to do that anymore.

“Sorry,” Danny whispers. He swallows something wet from his sinuses to his stomach, and has to fight back the memory of a blood-and-ecto-and-flesh slurry taking its place in his esophagus as he tried to crawl away to die. Again.

The man sends out pulses of sorrysorrysorry through his skin. “Me too,” he murmurs back.

Then Danny gets hitched up—Danny squawks—and gets thrown into a better position over one shoulder, so Danny has better height to see from and a better perch in the guy’s arms. Danny drops half his prongles on the floor in the process. “Want to go find your chair?” the guy asks, body vibrating just a touch outside of Danny’s conscious awareness. Still, even without seeing the guy’s face, his whole body radiates sympathy/curiOSITy/Hungry.

…Didn’t they just eat?

Either way, Danny’s not torn between staring sadly at the ground where his prongles lay cold and bared to the cruelty of the world or getting up to go find his chair. “Yes,” he agrees, and uses the flat of his forearms to haul himself up higher onto the guy’s shoulders. Kindly, the guy in red doesn’t even budge. “Thank you.”

“Na geswincan,” the guy reports back easily, which Danny is pretty sure is a less-formal you’re welcome. Too bad there’s a whole language’s worth of context Danny’s missing out on here. His friend even snags Danny an extra can of prongles, and is kind enough to rips open the seal for him.

Nothing beats recovering from a crying jag like chips. Danny takes them earnestly.

The quick-fast guy hooks his arm onto his friend’s, and the world starts to stretch and blend into the in-between planes of reality, slices of world layered atop each other. The guy smashes through each one and pulls them both along for the ride.

It’s not quite like dunking his head in the portal, but it’s not not like sticking his head in a homemade portal either. Danny shakily pulls out a chip and starts chewing. He’ll just take the ride as it comes.

*

“Superboy.”

Kon winces.

“Robin.” Wonder Woman’s eyes turn to the more remorseful end of the bunch. “Wonder Girl. Impulse.”

“Wedidn’tmeanto!” Bart wails into a pillow, which. Fair. Cassie is sweating from possibly every pore she’s ever had (and maybe even a few she doesn’t??), and Tim is doing that stoic-faced thing that means he’s flipping the hell out too much to even tell his face to make expressions about it.

Kon just looks…miserable. Just absolutely miserable.

“…Triggered by firearms, maybe…?” Tim mutters under his breath, which means that he’s theorizing about their guest’s symptoms rather than coming up with solutions-oriented paths out of this confrontation and Cassie wants to shake him because this is NOT the time, Timothy Jackson Drake, except he’s kind of made of mortal human flesh and if she actually shakes him too hard he might die.

“I hope you understand how deeply irresponsible it was to take our patient out of his rooms without any form of supervision from either myself, his medical team, or an adult up to speed with our patient’s medical and psychological needs.” Wonder Woman’s voice is sharp—and her eyes are on Timmy Wonder Boy, who’s barely paying attention, making it clear that the majority of her ire is currently on him. “All four of you are being taken off of mission rosters for the next month in favor of remedial training. I hope that you are all satisfied with the decisions you made.”

“Fiiiine,” Cassie groans. Kon slumps in place. Tim nods without really looking.

Bart, still wailing at lightning speed into his pillow, continues doing…that.

[its-time-to-write]

OOOO what about Jamie having a huge crush on the reader so much so it’s effecting how he thinks like how he was in the show where he played against Man City. So Roy and Keeley follow him (like in the show) and see him spying/ watching (he’d never admit it) the reader whos working either as a waitress or a bookshop owner because he’s too nervous to go in. Or maybe even secret girlfriend where they follow him and accidentally meet the reader whos been in a secret relationship with Jamie. Lol I hope you can understand what I was trying to say 😅

Pretty sure I picked up what you put down! Here ya go!

don’t go wasting your emotion

Jamie Tartt is not acting like himself. 

The first person to notice is Roy, because it shows in his training. He seems… distracted. So he mentions it to Keeley, and asks her to keep an eye out. They have some big games coming up, and Richmond cannot afford a distracted Jamie. Keeley promises she’ll check up on him soon, but Jamie just keeps getting weirder.

He jumps and hides his phone when Dani plops down next to him on the locker room bench, passes the ball to the opposing side during practice, and keeps going offside. It isn’t long before the other coaches notice, as well as his teammates. The only one who doesn’t seem particularly worried is Sam. When Isaac asks him if he’s noticed anything off about Jamie, Sam just shrugs and says, “It’s probably nothing. I’m sure he’ll get over it soon.”

AFC Richmond does not have time to wait. They need Jamie to get his head out of the clouds and back firmly on earth. 

Shortly after Isaac’s talk with Sam, Colin catches Sam and Jamie whispering in the weight room. He catches snippets of words like, “can’t know,” “just do it,” and… “bookstore”? Surely he didn’t hear that right. Colin shrugs and heads to go see Trent. He’s an investigative journalist. He’s got to have some insight.

Colin presents this information to Trent, Ted, Beard, and Roy, none of whom have any real ideas. As they try to come up with plausible scenarios, Trent leans agains the door with his mug in quiet thought.

“You’ve been mighty quiet over there, Mr. Independent. What’re your thoughts?” Ted asks. 

“I’m not sure,” Trent replies. “We simply don’t have enough facts to come to a conclusion. What we need is someone to follow Jamie after work and see if that will provide any insights.”

“I’ll do it.”

The room turns to look at Roy. He looks uncomfortable. “Keeley and I have been meaning to talk to him anyway, and if he fucking catches any of you lot following him, he’ll never fucking trust you again. I’m your best choice.”

Beard looks at Ted, and they nod. 

Ted says, “Alright Roylock Holmes. You and Dr. Jones have fun tonight. Let us know what you find out,” and that’s that. 

—

Roy calls Keeley and tells her the situation, and it’s not hard to find a pretense for her to be with the team. It’s movie night, and she’s there more often than not. They have pretty much unanimously decided on Paddington, mostly to heal Dani’s trauma from hearing the Paddington Twitter account gave Richmond no marmalade sandwiches. That’s what they say, at least, but if they are crying within the first fifteen minutes, that’s not for anyone to say. 

Jamie sits in the back and he keeps looking at his phone. Sam pokes him and Richard catches something that sounds like, “Go- can’t expect- if you didn’t ask,” at which Jamie nods, looks around, and then slips out the door.

“Where’s he going?” Isaac asks Sam, who shrugs and says, “I would assume to use the restroom.”

Isaac turns back to the screen, but Roy and Keeley look at each other, nod, and quickly get up to follow Jamie. 

They trail him out the building and down the street, watching as he puts his hood up in an effort not to be noticed. They follow him for half a mile as Jamie makes a very purposeful trek through Richmond, unaware that he’s being followed.

Keeley and Roy turn a corner then stop, because Jamie has stopped. He’s just out of sight of some big glass windows. He checks the time, gives himself a shake, then removes his hood and pulls the door open. Keeley and Roy share a look and rush to the window.

It’s a bookstore. The sign on the door says they close an hour from now, at 9pm. Jamie is inside leaning on the checkout counter, talking and laughing with you, the cashier.

“Started that book you told me about,” he says. “You’re right. I hate it.”

“Right??” you reply. “Isn’t it awful? It makes no sense at all, and reading it makes you feel like you’re on drugs, and it’s supposed to be a classic! Thank god you only got it at the library and didn’t have to waste money on it.”

Jamie laughs. “Got any real recommendations this time? Trying to become more cultured.” 

You laugh too. “You know, you’re a lot more cultured than you think. You’ve understood most of my references, and you have an impressive vocabulary. You have a wonderful grasp on the difference between intellectual and conversational tone.”

Roy and Keeley can’t tell what you’re saying, but they’re thinking the same thing. Is Jamie blushing?

Before they can ponder this, you come out from behind the counter to lead Jamie to a shelf. You both look straight at Roy and Keeley, who duck. You turn to Jamie, humor on your face. “Friends of yours?” you quip.

“Un-fucking-fortunately,” he responds. “Oi!”

Roy and Keeley slowly pop back up and Jamie exasperatedly beckons them inside.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

Roy, stoic as ever, just grunts. Keeley says, “We were worried about you! You were acting all weird and botching things at practice. We thought you were dying!”

Roy rolls his eyes. You’re doing your best to maintain a straight face. 

You know exactly who these people are. You know Keeley Jones because who doesn’t know about Keeley Jones? You know Roy Kent because he came up as a suggested search after you googled Jamie.

Jamie has been coming into your bookshop for a while now. At first it was to look for some book about forgiveness, but after you helped him pick that out he just… kept coming back. He’d lean against the counter, supported by his elbows, and stay from 8pm until closing. Usually, he was the only customer you’d get that time of night.

It wasn’t lost on you that he was a) gorgeous and b) definitely flirting with you. He wasn’t the first customer to fancy himself in love with you, but he was the first that you actually liked back. And the first who really read what you said you liked.

You just didn’t get why he hadn’t made a move yet, especially after looking him up. It didn’t make sense. You considered making the first move, but that freaked you out too much. Still, despite his inaction on that front, he kept coming back and talking to you. Sometimes he’d bring you coffee. He’d always help you close the store. You once joked that you should put him on the payroll, to which he looked at you, and deadpanned, “You couldn’t afford me.”

You’re pretty sure that’s the moment you actually fell for him. You’re a sucker for a good, stupid sense of humor.

“Why would you think I were dyin?” Jamie asks. 

Keeley shrugs and Roy answers, “Because you’ve been playing like shit.”

Jamie glares at Roy. “I have not, you dusty old twat. You take that back.”

Keeley clears her throat. “Well, actually babes, you kind of have. It’s been this whole thing. Everybody’s worried about you!”

Jamie pinches the bridge of his nose. “Jesus Christ. Why the fuck are you all in my business? Did Sam put you up to this?”

“Why the fuck would Sam put us up to this?” Roy asks.

“Because Sam caught Jamie looking at my Instagram,” you interject.

Three sets of eyes turn to you. “What?” you shrug. “Sam looked up my handle and messaged me about it. We’re friends now.”

Jamie shakes his head in disbelief and Roy says, “So Sam fucking knew about this?”

The tips of Jamie’s ears turn red as he says, “Uh, yeah, so Sam’s been telling me I need to ask her out for like fuckin ages now. Always on me about how it’s dumb to keep checking my phone for her texts, especially because I haven’t even asked for her number or some shit.”

You swear that is the dumbest, cutest thing you’ve ever heard. 

“You want my number?” your voice comes out an octave higher than you’d like it to.

Jamie turns to you. “Uh, yeah, yeah I do. Been meanin’ to ask you, but I dunno, I keep telling myself you’re just being nice to me ‘cause of your job. Didn’t want to be fuckin weird.”

You smile. “Jamie Tartt, for someone so intelligent you really are dumb sometimes.”

He looks pleased with the compliment, then offended, then he realizes what you’re saying. His face goes through those expressions in a moment and then your hand is on the back of his head, pulling him down for a kiss.

Keeley looks on with a smile and Roy stares at the ceiling uncomfortable.

You break apart and Roy says, “Oi, Tartt!”

You and Jamie turn to look at him, arms still around each other.

“This better mean you’re done fucking up practice.”

“Yes coach,” Jamie mock-salutes.

Roy gives him a singular nod, and with that, he and Keeley head out the door. Keeley gives you a little wave and a thumbs up to Jamie.

“Now, where were we?” Jamie asks. “Oh, right…”

[wittlesissyb4by]

Chapter 3 - The Study Group

Click HERE to read Chapter!

Click HERE to read Chapter 2!!

“I…I’m just really nervous.” Jack stammered, dipping his head and rubbing his face as he does any time he’s anxious. 

Marianne used a finger to lift her husband’s chin, looking into his eyes. “I know,” she said, trying to feign confidence, “I am too.”

She gave him a once over, sliding her hands along his shirt that was far too short to cover his belly, straightening it out and picking off any stray lint. 

Jack kept tugging the shirt down. “Can’t I at least wear shorts?” He whimpered. 

Marianne just shrugged, curling her fingers into the waistband of his diaper, gripping and pulling upward so it forced his legs a bit wider. “I don’t really see the point,” she said, tucking the flared edges back into his thighs like she’d been taught, apparently it helps prevent leaks, “they already know you’ll be wearing one, and they’re going to see it eventually. No reason to delay the inevitable.”

He blushed, knowing she was right, but that didn’t keep him from trembling. 

“Hey,” she said, bringing her hand back to his cheek, “you wanted this, remember? There’s no backing out now.” 

That seemed to settle him. He nodded and plopped his hands down to his sides for maybe the hundredth time. Marianne combed him over once more, she found herself uneasy too. There was no reason to be, they were all probably used to it, but Jack was still a reflection of her, and Marianne wanted to show that she was competent in diapering her husband. 

Still, she couldn’t help but gawk at how adorable he looked, like an innocent little one rubbing their eyes and face, tugging on their shirt, and crinkling in their little diaper. She was certainly starting to see the appeal to this whole thing, even if she originally didn’t think it would be her cup of tea when he first presented it to her.

“What time are they getting here?” Jack asked, still a bit flustered. 

Marianne leaned in close for a kiss, which he returned. When they released, she smiled, “they’re already here!”

******

The girls were giddy with excitement when Marianne came back into the living room. They’d been sitting around the couch, chairs, and tables. Notebooks and laptops open, pencils scratching, keys tapping. The sound of Marianne’s footsteps caused them all to stop collectively and look up from their studying. 

“Ladies…” Marianne cleared her throat, voice shaking nervously but trying to feign confidence, “meet…Jack!”

A round of applause broke out, but nothing (and no one) came from the hallway. At least, not for a few seconds. Finally, once the cheers died down, Jack came simpering into the room, hands relentlessly trying to tug down his shirt, only for it to spring back up and further expose the puffy pamper between his legs. “Oh my godd!!” Someone squealed, stomping their feet in hilarity. 

“Awww!! Look at his wittle pampurrs!!”

“Soo cuuute!!”

“Cute? More like ‘pathetic’!!”

The raucous laughter went on for what felt like several minutes. Even Marianne couldn’t help but smile to herself. Though the girls were probably embellishing, it was nice to see them so excited about seeing her husband in diapers. It was validating. 

“Turn around!”

“Give us a little spin!”

“Yea! Show us your diaper butt!”

“Don’t worry about that shirt, it’s not hiding anything. Trust us!”

“Bend over!”

“That’s it! Smack that ass!”

Jack was whimpering over the dull thud of his hand smacking the seat of his diaper. 

“Come here,” Claire said, snapping her fingers and pointing to the ground in front of her, the same carpet she herself used to crawl on when her Mom brought her over as a toddler, “let’s check your diaper.”

Marianne had never seen her husband move so fast. He was trembling all over, but his eyes had this sort of glazy effect to them, like he was in a different world, a different space. He dropped to his knees in front of the beautiful blonde college girl. 

“Make him tell us if he’s wet!” Trinity suggested. 

“Do you do that?” Brooke beckoned, “I always like to guess when I think they’re doing it. The way they try to keep their face from scrunching is so cute!”

“I just check them constantly,” said Valencia, “They get so huffy and puffy when I'm making them spread their legs so I can pinch their pamper every 5 minutes. It almost makes them force it out faster so they don’t have to keep getting all worked up inside of their clitty cage!”

“I like my methods, thank you very much!” Claire giggled. She closed her spiral notebook and set it to the side, tucking her hair behind her ear as she leaned forward to the quivering Jack. “How’s your diaper?” She asked, smacking her gum. “Are you wet?”

Before Jack could form any words that weren’t just stammering baby babble, Claire already had her hand on his diaper. “Hmm…hard to tell…” she said to the room, “What do you think girls? Can you check him?”

Marianne had given them permission to touch Jack and his diaper, as long as they didn’t go in and touch his penis. She wasn’t quite comfortable with that. 

Jack mewed as he went down the line, waddling side to side on his knees so each girl could pinch and squish and poke and prod him. “Hmm…he doesn’t feel wet…but I do feel something small and stiff!” Valencia giggled, tapping him on the hips. “Turn around! Let’s check for poop!”

Jack’s cheeks flushed red as Val used a finger to peel back the waistband of his diaper and peek inside. “Hmm, nope! No poo poo’s…yet! Maybe the little guy’s backed up!  What were the 4 P’s for easing constipation again, girls?”

“Prunes!”

“Pears!”

“Peaches! And…” Savannah flipped through her notes.

“Plums.” Marianne finished, she’d been studying hard the past few days. “I have all of them in the pantry!”

******

“Open wide!!”

“Heeerre comesss the airpwannnne!!!”

“And the Choo-choo train!!”

“Gotta put the car in the garage!! Vroom vroom!!”

Spoonfuls of mush were coming from so many directions that Jack could hardly keep up. Actually, he couldn’t keep up at all. Sweet slop ran down the sides of his stuffed mouth, down his chin, and onto the bib that someone took the liberty of bringing for him.  

“Open! Open!” Savannah encouraged, but didn’t even wait for him to swallow before shoveling another spoonful into his already full mouth. Jack tried to close his lips around it, but some ended up getting pushed out from being over capacity. Savannah deftly caught what dripped down his drooly chin, and brought it back up for a second attempt. 

Jack’s stomach was groaning from the onslaught. The pureed ‘P’s’ were slishing and sloshing, making it full almost to the point of bursting, and the jars still had plenty of food left in them. Did Marianne know she bought such big containers? Maybe she didn’t intend them to all be used at once, but she sure wasn’t doing anything to stop them. In fact, she almost encouraged it. 

“I’ve been trying to get him to eat healthier,” Marianne laughed, “guess I just need to invite pretty girls over in order to get him to eat his fruit and veggies!!”

Jack wriggled helplessly in his high chair. The same one he’d built for himself just a few weeks prior. Marianne didn’t understand why he wanted to add restraints to it until this very moment. The way he was tugging them and whining with all that mush in his mouth made it quite necessary. She couldn’t tell if he was struggling just for show, or if he genuinely was in turmoil, but he didn’t use the safeword, so Marianne assumed all was well one way or another. She had to admit, he did look pretty adorable squirming around in that chair covered in mush. His white shirt was no longer plain.

“Hold still, little one!” Claire cooed, holding his head still from behind the chair while the girls forced even more spoonfuls into his mouth. “It’ll help you feel better! Help get your poo poo’s out!”

When they’d finally exhausted all four jam-sized jars of food and the girls cheered “alll gone!!” Jack was leaning back in his chair, mouth agape, groaning over his bloated belly. Trinity used the bib to mop up his face, Brooke and Savannah removed the restraints from his wrists and ankles, and Val lifted the tabletop. 

“Uh oh, girls!” Claire exclaimed, hand between Jack’s legs. “Feels like we’ve got a wet diaper!!”

******

Jack sat on the floor in his pissy pamper while the girls went over the different types of enemas. 

“Sodium Phosphate, Glycerin, Bisacodyl, Mineral Oil and…” Savannah snapped her fingers over and over, searching for the words, “…and…and…”

“It’s easier than you think,” Val said over her notes, checking off Savannah’s answers. 

“Oh! Tap water!” Savannah exclaimed, smacking her head in her own stupidity. 

“Which one do you use to stimulate colon contractions?”

“Bisacodyl!” She replied immediately with a satisfied smile, “Easy.”

They continued to go through their notes, making sure to cover everything with detail and then some before moving on to a new topic. 

Jack pretended to play with the little blocks and stuffed animals they gave him. It was demeaning and humiliating, but he decided it was better than protesting. He didn’t want to cause a scene or put Marianne in a precarious position where she would be forced to reprimand him, or worse, become too overwhelmed and embarrass herself in front of her peers. He’d asked for all of this, he could deal with it. His diaper was still warm from the piss he added to it a half hour ago. It squished as he shifted, but so did something else. His stomach was churning, doing backflips and giving that noticeable heavy grumble. He thought about asking Marianne if he could excuse himself to the restroom, but she seemed so busy and stressed going through her studies. When he tried to leave the room earlier so they could have their time to study in peace, the girls immediately asked “Where are you going?” and plopped him right back down on the floor where they could “keep an eye on him.” He was stuck in here.

He glanced from side to side, the girls were going over the active ingredients in different suppositories, not paying much attention to him at all. Now was as good of a time as ever. As quietly as he could, he clambered around onto his hands and knees, his heavy diaper drooping between his legs. This wasn’t the first time he’d crawled since they’d been around, (they made him do several laps proclaiming he was a pamper pisser earlier) so they didn’t seem to notice when he slowly crawled over into the corner. 

He just wanted a bit of privacy. It would be weird doing it in front of them. He thought one last time about asking Marianne if he could use the bathroom, but she was so busy with the girls he didn’t want to interrupt, especially to tell them what he needed to do. Plus, he was pretty sure he knew what their answer would be. So, instead, he brought his legs up into a crouch, squatting in the corner and trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. 

“Watcha doin’ over there?” Trinity’s voice called. 

Jack immediately flushed red. 

“Oh! I know that look!”

“Awww!! Is somewon twying to make a pushy??”

“Oh my god! He is!!”

“He’s doing the good ‘ole ‘squatty potty’!!!”

“I love how they think they can get away with it…pooping in the corner like a little tottler.”

Marianne didn’t say anything, just smiled sheepishly at her husband’s antics. She’d never seen her husband so embarrassed before. 

“Get out from over there!” Claire called, snapping her fingers and pointing back at the rug in the center of the room. “If you need to do your business, you will do it right here where we can all see you!”

Jack looked to Marianne for help, his face stricken with horror, but she simply gave a curt nod, the edges of her lips curling upwards. This is what he asked for, she told herself. 

His bottom lip started to quiver, but he tucked it underneath his teeth as he made his way back to the center of the room in front of the gaggle of girls. Jack could feel every set of eyes on him while he crouched in his diaper. It was so wet and plump that it practically reached the floor. The girls giggled and smiled, some covering their grins with their hands so as not to be “rude”. 

“Go on Jack Jack!” Val said, taking charge. 

“Yea!” The other girls said, joining in now. 

“Poop your pampers!”

“Make a pushy!”

“Go on, diaper dumper! Let’s see what you got!”

Jack clamped his eyes shut, hoping to block out all the sights and sounds, but it was futile, their incessant cackling reverberated around the room. 

There was only one thing he could do at this point, he had to get it over with. 

“Oh look! His face is turning red! I think he’s doing it!”

Jack’s face was already red long before from the embarrassment of it all, but now that he was pushing, the veins were popping from his head. He couldn’t hold back a grunt as his muscles clenched, then relaxed. The warmth caught him off guard, he was used to expelling the waste and it dropping through the air and into the water below. Now, it didn’t drop far at all, it just pressed back into him as the mush spread through the inside of his padding. Somehow, the girls noticed, either from the smell, or the much saggier bulge of his diaper. 

“Uh oh!! I think somewon has poo poo’s!!”

“Let’s check him!!”

“Not yet, he’s still going! Let’s let the wittle baby finish his business!”

Jack begrudgingly harrumphed and pushed out the remainder of his excrement. He tried to avoid their giggling gazes, but the eyes boring into him were tangible. Finally, he finished, but he didn’t know what he needed to do to convey the message. 

Thankfully, Marianne stepped in: “All done?” She asked, as if being married to him all this time gave her experience on his bowel movements. 

Jack nodded, still unable to drain the color in his cheeks. Marianne could see he had the strangest mixture of embarrassment, discomfort, and arousal. She found that more than a bit intriguing, not the act of defecating himself, but the fact that he was willing to utterly humiliate himself by doing it in front of all of these attractive people. Had he no shame? Or did he just revel in it? Either way, she found it fascinating.

“Tell us what you did.” Val said, a sadistic grin on her face. “Tell us what you did in your diaper.”

Jack looked side to side for help, but none came, not even from Marianne, who just gave him a curt nod, lips curling into a smile. 

“I…” Jack squeaked in the tiniest of voices, he was so humiliated he brought his hands to his face, rubbing his cheeks and squirming like an embarrassed toddler. “I went poo poo’s…”

“Louder!” Trinity commanded. 

His bottom lip quivered, his eyes got a little misty. “I went poo poo’s!!”

“Where?”

“In…in my diaper…”

“We can’t hear you!”

“I WENT POO POO’S IN MY DIAPER!!” he shouted. 

The girls continued making him humiliate himself. Forcing him to say it like a baby. To turn around and wiggle his droopy diaper for them. To stand up and swish his hips from side to side, causing the load to swing like a wrecking ball. 

“Should we…” Savannah started, “should we make him…?”  

All the girls seemed to know exactly what she meant, all except Marianne, so Claire leaned over and whispered in her ear. 

Marianne’s eyes widened a bit, but she didn’t shake her head. She seemed to be weighing options, keeping her eyes on Jack, considering his well-being. Finally, she shrugged and gave a nod in the affirmative. 

The girls collectively giggled and clapped. 

“Okay loser,” Val said, taking the lead, “Tell us: do you like your dirty diaper?”

Jack shrugged, eyes continuing to dart back and forth searching for help as to what to say. His mouth hung agape, but he didn’t seem to notice, drool leaking down his lips, he was so deep in little space. 

“Y-yes…” he said in a voice way too high-pitched for his age. 

“Say it.”

He hung his head, speaking to the floor. “I…i like my dirty diaper…”

The girls all exchanged glances and giggles. 

“Show us.”

Jack looked up, confused. “Wha?”

“Show us how much you like it.” Claire said. “Right there, on the floor.”

It took Jack only a second to register what she meant. It would have taken Marianne ages if it hadn’t just been explained to her. 

“N-no…” Jack begged, face welling up with crimson again, “please…”

“What?” Val cooed, “does the wittle baybee not want to make cummies in his dirty diapy?”

Jack instinctively grabbed his crotch. Even through the padding, Marianne could tell he was hard. If you would have told her her husband would be getting an erection inside of a poopy diaper while a group of girls laughed and ridiculed him, she would have laughed and ridiculed you. But no matter how red Jack’s face got, he certainly seemed to be enjoying himself.

“Lay down, Jack Jack.” Savannah commanded, “on your tummy.”

Despite his hesitation, he worked his quaking legs behind him, then lowered himself down on his belly, the mushy diaper crinkling as it was pressed against the floor, he looked up with doe eyes as he awaited further instruction. 

“You know what to do.” Trinity teased over the laughter of the other girls. “Show us what a big boy you are while you hump your dirty diapers!!”

Jack hung his head in shame, but used his arms to pull himself forward, squishing the mess into himself as his diaper ground against the ground. He visibly cringed, groaning as he wriggled his hips back and forth. 

The girls cackled with delight, even Marianne smiled at Jack’s shame. 

“Hump those Huggies, loser!”

“Pump those poopy pampers!”

“Tell us what you’re doing, diaper dumper!”

Jack was sweating in a mixture of shame and exertion, “I'm humping my poopy diapers!” He repeated over and over as he ground his hips even harder. 

They clapped and cheered and teased him with every thrust. 

“He’s really getting after it!”

“So horny and desperate!”

“See? All these little losers are the same!”

The girls had discussed with Marianne beforehand that anything they said was purely for degradation purposes. They didn’t think ill of her husband, or even care for that matter, they were just playing their part. 

“Tell us when you’re going to cum, loser!”

“Ask us for permission!”

It didn’t take long. Less than 10 seconds since they’d given the command, Jack was blubbering in a pitiful puddle on the floor. “Can I cum? Can i cum please??”

“Call us ‘Goddesses’!”

“And it’s ‘goo goo’ to you!”

Jack moaned and mewed, digging his dirty diaper in the rug. “Nnghhh! Can i make a…goo goo…in my… diapy…Goddesses??”

“No.” Val said without the slightest hint of sympathy. “Lift up.”

Whining and whimpering, Jack reluctantly raised his filthy diaper off the floor. 

“Keep humping.” Savannah said. “But don’t touch the ground.”

Jack was on all fours, humping the air like a desperate bitch. Swishing his hips back and forth and making the dirty droopy diaper swing to and fro. The girls found this to be one of the funniest things they’d ever seen. They continued to make him put on this ridiculous display for almost a full minute. 

“Rub it!” They commanded, making him push his hand into his crotch and stroke it through his padding. 

“PLEASE may I cum, Goddesses?” He was desperate, shouting and whimpering with no regard for how pathetic he looked. 

If Marianne had it her way, she would have let him, but instead she decided to let the girls take the reins. 

“Absolutely not.” Trinity barked. “Get back on your belly.”

They let him simmer down for a bit before having him resume his humiliating humping. 

“Suck your thumb.”

“Babble like a baybee!”

Jack was a blubbering mess on the floor while he mushed his mess with his hips. 

“Turn over.”

He flipped on his back. 

“Raise your hips up. Hump the air.”

It seemed to be a never ending string of humiliations, one after the other. With each bout of Jack being brought to the edge, the girls made him stop and get in a different position. 

“Ple-he-hease!!” Jack begged, actual tears leaking down his face. “Can i make goo goo’s and get out of this dirty diapy?”

The girls seemed to show sympathy for the first time, if only slightly.

“On your back.” Trinity said once more. “You’re not making a goo goo. Not yet, anyway. But you can get out of that disgusting diaper.”

Jack sighed, but did as he was told. 

The girls all turned to Marianne. “Are you ready to change him?”

It was Marianne’s turn to flush. She’d never changed a dirty diaper before. Not that she didn’t know how, but because she never thought she was ready to take on such a task. 

Claire placed a comforting hand on hers, sensing Marianne’s trepidation. “It’s okay, we’ll be right here with you.”

Marianne took a long, steady breath, trying to find her courage. This was something her husband had wanted for a long time. She wanted to share that moment with him, even if she didn’t quite feel ready. But when would she ever be ready? It’s hard to get up the nerve to see your husband splayed out in his own filth, much less clean it up yourself. If there was a time to do it, it would be right now when she had her friends—if you could call them that—by her side, helping her through it. She let out a long, hefty sigh, putting on her Mommy voice. 

“Okay sweetheart!” She chimed, managing to keep her cadence from shaking, “it’s time to change your diaper!!”

To Be Continued

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[judasofsuburbia]

it's a bad idea, right?

steddie toxic exes au. based off olivia rodrigo's new song.

“Shut it off,” Eddie whines groggily into Steve's ear. 

Steve's eyes open up to the incessant ringing of his phone. He reaches over to pick it up off the nightstand, effectively getting out of Eddie's grasp. Eddie makes a disgruntled noise but doesn't protest further. 

It's Robin.

“Oh shit,” Steve grumbles as he sits up completely and answers it.

“Dingus! You're up, oh my god, finally. The girls and I are ready for the museum thing whenever you are. Though, I suggest that we go like right now because the lines are gonna get ridiculous and we're most definitely going to hit traffic going into the city and who knows if the teens have eaten anything so we might have to stop at McDonald's too. I have enough to get a bunch of sausage biscuits, could you cover the coffees? Maybe El is responsible and has money but I don't trust that Erica and Max do. I'll make sure they don't get any fancy frappes or anything—”

Robin continues at a mile a minute and Steve's brain is trying desperately to catch up. He rubs a hand over his tired eyes and sighs. 

“I can probably bus to your house if that would be easier.”

That gets Steve's attention. His eyes shoot open as he says, “No, no Robin. I'll come get you. Don't even worry about it.”

“Oh, okay,” Robin agrees easily. “You good dude? Sleep like the dead last night?”

“Something like that,” Steve grumbles. “Look I'm gonna need like half an hour to get ready. I'll text you when I'm near your apartment.”

“It's just a Wonder Woman exhibit. Don't get fussy with your outfit.”

“Uh huh, okay,” Steve replies. He starts to roll out of bed but Eddie catches him, yanking him closer. 

“Where do you think you're going?” Eddie rasps, sending shivers down Steve's spine. He couldn't get wrapped up in that too long though because all he hears is Robin's responding gasp through the receiver. 

“Half an hour, love you, bye!” Steve shouts, hanging up hurriedly. 

Eddie chuckles into Steve's neck, successful in pulling Steve back into his hold. Steve's weak to do anything but sink into it. 

“You haven't told them, have you?” Eddie asks, pressing a kiss to the back of Steve's neck.

“There's nothing to tell,” Steve argues.

Eddie laughs again, dragging Steve's ear lobe with his teeth. “You keep telling yourself that, sweetheart.”

Steve does manage to get out of Eddie's apartment and back home in time to slip on some clean clothes, spritz himself in cologne, and get out of the door. Thank fuck for fall because the turtleneck he grabs covers the number Eddie did on his neck. He wishes he could get the phantom press of his lips and teeth out of his head. 

He picks up the teenagers first. They're easy because they all were spending the night at the Sinclairs. He thought he could put off his death a little bit longer. He was wrong. 

The girls are giggling as they clamor into the backseat and Steve is immediately on edge. 

“You're so fucking dead, dude,” Max declares as Steve backs out of the driveway.

Steve smiles tightly at her through the rearview mirror. “And who said anything to you?”

The girls are giggling again. It grates every nerve in Steve's body. 

“Mike overheard Nancy and Robin on the phone. He texted us. It probably wasn't very nice,” El says, at least sounding a little bit guilty. Steve shoots her a sympathetic look.

It's not her fault he fucked up, again.

“Great,” Steve grits. “That's fucking fantastic.”

Steve pulls up to Robin's apartment, tense and seconds away from wincing when he sees her stomp out the front door. She plops into the front seat and the whole car goes quiet. 

“You look nice,” Steve tries. 

“Breakfast is on you,” Robin replies. 

“Yeah, I figured,” Steve mumbles. 

Everyone is happily sipping their fancy frappes. Everyone except Robin of course who has managed to not dig into him in front of the teens but he knows it's coming. Like a storm about to brew. 

Steve tries not to think about how Eddie tasted like caramel as they made out because he's quit smoking and sucks on candies instead. He's torturing himself with the caramel frappe in his hand but he can't help it. He craves it more than he should. 

They get their tickets and the teens run ahead of them, checking out all the cool displays. Steve starts to walk in front of Robin but he gets yanked back. 

“Did you just...trip and fall into his bed? Or is this a repeat offense?” Robin asks with a cool, casual tone.

“I...” Steve stutters, taking a sip of his drink that's long gone to buy him time. All it buys him is a loud empty slurping sound. 

“You said you were falling asleep early last night,” Robin states.

“And I did! I was asleep just...not in my bed.”

Robin scoffs. “What was it this time? Eddie looking to reconnect?”

Steve's lips turn into a frown. As much as Steve likes to believe he's above Eddie's words and affection, it truly does not take much to break him. He and Eddie dated casually for about a year. Steve wanted to be serious but Eddie's band was about to take off and he didn't want any strings tying him to Chicago. Steve painfully decided to end it, decided he needed more than “I promise you're the only one I'm sleeping with”. Eddie's band did kind of take off. But not enough to get Eddie out of Chicago. And out of Steve's brain, apparently. 

“I only see him as a friend,” Steve lies through his teeth.

“Do I look stupid to you?” Robin asks with a tilt of her head, eyebrows raised. 

“No,” Steve emphasizes. “But we...we're not back together or anything.”

“I don't think you were ever together to begin with.”

“Okay. Ouch.”

“I'm serious, dingus. You were not good after that breakup, or whatever you want to call it. I just don't want to see you get hurt again.”

Steve lets out a long sigh, tossing his frappe into the trash, and leaning up against the wall. He watches as fans of Wonder Woman roam the museum, some of them dressed up for the occasion. He's happy he's here, happy he got to take the girls here, but he knows he'd rather be somewhere else. He feels guilty for that. 

“I fucked up, okay?” Steve admits defeatedly.

Robin leans her head on his shoulder. “I know you did. I know you know you did. Question is: is this going to be repeated?”

“No,” Steve says. He doesn't believe it and he can tell by Robin's huff that she doesn't either. 

“Gimme your phone,” Robin says.

“What? Why?”

“Just hand it over.”

Steve holds his phone to his chest. Looks at Robin seriously. “Don't tell him off or something. Don't read our texts!”

“Ew, I don't want to read your texts,” Robin sneers as she takes the phone from his hands. “I'm just gonna change his contact name.”

Steve looks over her shoulder and sees her typing “DONT PICK UP IGNORE IGNORE IGNORE” is now Eddie's contact name. 

“Surprised you didn't just delete it,” Steve mumbles, wincing because maybe he shouldn't have given her that idea. 

“Because I know you have it memorized. No use blocking his number either because he has your socials. But take this as a reminder that you deserve better than him.”

Steve's mouth opens and closes, an argument dying on his tongue. It's not that Eddie is a bad person, necessarily. He's a little much sometimes but deep down, he is rather sweet. Very nerdy, very animated. Very thoughtful. It's like he could make the perfect boyfriend if he just let go of his inability to commit to anything that's not his music. But Robin's right. Steve is monogamous at heart and deserves more. 

So tell him why he’s standing outside of Eddie’s door not even three days later?

Eddie answers with a shining smile that has Steve clenching his fists. 

“Next time, you’re coming to my place,” Steve states as Eddie pushes him up against the door. Eddie drags his tongue up Steve’s neck, causing his knees threatening to buckle. 

“Whatever you say, sweetheart,” Eddie answers.

Steve doesn’t hear anything else beyond moans and incoherent ramblings. It’s like the second Eddie gets his hands on him his brain goes “Blah, blah, blah.” 

[astraystayyh]

Snow on the beach

Hyunjin x reader. friends to lovers, but they've always known. implied soulmates.

this basically wrote itself nsbdbd as always feedback is highly appreciated <33 (if you can listen to Snow On The Beach by Taylor and Lana, do it!)

The ocean laps softly at your feet, and you watch its ebb and flow intently, admiring how each wave always knows precisely where to go- where to finally rest after a long journey of travels. 

This beach is your spot with Hyunjin. Not a secret one by any means, but one that feels yours because of all the memories you've shared here. The ocean has witnessed it all between the two of you.

"I will miss this," you sigh wistfully, and Hyunjin hums from beside you. He's watching the water too, legs tightly hugged to his chest, his cheek resting softly on his knee. 

You've grown up with Hyunjin right in front of this ocean. You weren't lovers but you weren't friends either. You were simply a mirror of one another. Every part of him found its reflection in you. 

"Me too. Remember when we first came here?" he chuckles softly at the distant memory and you smile to yourself. That was seven years ago. 

You are 15, stomping down the beach because you are angry at the world, just like every other teenager. You plop down on the sand and dig your hand into its warm particles. The soothing sensation grounds you and the sound of the waves drowns out your thoughts.  

"Hey," someone greets and you look up to find Hyunjin. He's your classmate in high school. You remember him in passing because you once dropped your pen and he picked it up for you without a word.  

"Hi," you greet back, shielding your eyes from the harsh sun rays with your hand. Hyunjin moves a bit to the side to block out the sun for you. You notice. 

"Mind if I sit with you?" he asks and you shrug, "Sure. But I don't feel like talking." 

"Me too. We can sit alone together." 

Paradoxal words, but you soon understand what he means by them. He's right next to you, but you're both lost in your own worlds. And yet his presence seems to have a calming effect on you. It feels comforting, to have someone exist with you without asking for anything in return.

"I do remember," you smile, turning back to look at the ocean. Your hand starts to pick up the sand once more, and Hyunjin does the same. Your pinkies brush against each other- it isn't the first time this happened. Touching Hyunjin has become second nature to you. 

You are 16, facing the ocean once again. Only this time tears are streaming down your eyes. 'Where are you?' you read in Hyunjin's text and you quickly write back 'Our spot'. He's there ten minutes later. He doesn't ask what's wrong, but his fingers are intertwined with yours and it's enough. It was the first time Hyunjin has grabbed your hand in. You haven't been the same since. 

"And now you're leaving me," Hyunjin teases, a glint of amusement shining brightly in his eyes. He knows you'd never leave. Even if you are no longer near him. 

"Mm, finally getting a break from you after 7 years," you joke as your fingers curl around his pinky, as his hand gently tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. You'll always be here. 

You're 17, and it's nearly midnight, and yet you and Hyunjin are still talking in front of the ocean- the waves drinking in each bit of your conversation.

It's cold and you shiver slightly from the breeze grazing your exposed arms. Hyunjin notices and opens his jacket wide for you, silently inviting you to seek warmth from him. You bury yourself in his chest, his arms coming around to encircle you.

Your ear settles directedly on top of his heart- the first time you listen to Hyunjin's heartbeat. But it feels familiar, as if it's been ringing within you from the moment you met.

"Can't believe you won't be here for my birthday," he pouts and you giggle, inching closer to him in the process.

You've celebrated your birthday together for the past seven years. You've known all his wishes, since he always shared them with you. He didn't care about the superstition that telling someone your wish prevented it from becoming a reality. He believed that you and he are one, so it was only natural to tell you. 

"I'll call you from the other side of the world." You were leaving, not for long, only a year. A work opportunity you couldn't pass on. And yet it felt weird and unnatural to be somewhere where Hyunjin wouldn't be. 

You are 18, and as you watch the waves fizzle out as they meet the shore, your head laying on Hyunjin's shoulder, a sudden realization dawns on you. 

You are an ocean wave soaring too close to the sky, fueled by emotions too raw, too powerful, to be guarded by your heart alone. But as you near Hyunjin, your waves falter, your steps halt. Your worries, your fears, and your anger are no longer forces to be reckoned with. Instead, they become harmless sea foam. A mere shell of what they once were. To you, Hyunjin is the shore, bringing you out of your darkness, welcoming you home. 

"You'll call at my midnight?" he asks, leaning his face closer toward yours. You could clearly see his moles now, the one under his eye, and the one on his cheek. They remind you of the ink of a poet that ended up drying on his face. Everything that made Hyunjin was poetry to you. 

"Missing me already?" you grin at him and his eyes soften at you. "I miss you even when you are with me." 

You are 19, and Hyunjin is laying his head on your lap, dried tear stains on his face. This isn't the first time you've seen Hyunjin cry. But it is the first he sobbed in your arms. It was an agonizing sight, one that made you realize just how far you care for him. His eyes were now closed, as you gently thread through his hair, your touch seemingly calming him down. 

"I think I'm your shore today," you whisper, your voice getting caught up with the wind and the crashing of waves. But Hyunjin catches it. He understands.

"I need to write you a list of reminders, since I won't be here to take care of you," you joke, brushing away his words as if they weren't now imprinted onto your heart.

"If I don't follow them will you come back?"

You are 20, and it's your birthday. You are naturally celebrating it at your spot at the beach. You are laughing loudly at a joke Hyunjin just said when your hand slips from beneath you, and you are suddenly thrown forward, your nose now brushing against his. Hyunjin stares deeply into your eyes, and it makes your heart clench- how unguarded he seems to be with you. So you lean in and place a chaste kiss on the mole adorning his cheek. You've always wanted to do that. 

"This is my birthday gift," you giggle and Hyunjin shakes his head, a crimson blush tinting his cheeks. 

"I'll always come back to you," you say quietly. 

You are 21 and it's snowing at the beach. The first time you've seen it happen in your entire existence. You watch in awe as dainty snowflakes coat the sand- a sight so mesmerizing it renders you speechless for a few moments. But despite the beauty unfolding around you, Hyunjin still only has his eyes on you. You are admiring the snow and he's admiring you. 

"And I'll always be here."

You are now twenty-two, and you are saying your goodbyes to your place at the beach with Hyunjin.

It happens naturally, the way Hyunjin finally tells you that he loves you, right where it had all started. This is the first time he's uttered those three words and yet it's as if you've been hearing them for the past seven years. 

"I love you," you say back, the confession flowing easily from your mouth because you've both always known. 

You've known each time you sat down here, in front of this ocean. Where every past version of yourselves confessed the way they knew best- through stolen glances and subtle touches and comforting words. Where you've slowly grown within ones another's soul, just like the rings of a tree.

[corroded-hellfire]

Prompt Day 2: In the Beginning

Word Count: 947

Rating: T

Pairing: None

CW: Language, weed

Summary: The guys try to come up with the name for their band.

Special thanks to my darling @offensiunculaee for all the C words, Gareth’s middle name, and inspiring this ❤️

@corrodedcoffinfest

“Alright,” Eddie says as he plops down on one of the ratty old couches in Gareth’s garage. “Last time we managed to figure out we want the word ‘coffin’ in our band. That only took fucking months.” He mumbled that last part to himself before sighing and continuing. “Now we just have to figure out the rest of it.”

In anticipation of this being another long evening, Eddie pulls a joint and a lighter out of his pocket. Gareth’s mom is in the house and will occasionally come into the garage to use the washer and dryer, but the guys have convinced her there’s a family of skunks who like to come and go under the house. That’s why there’s that smell sometimes, of course. 

“Iron Coffin?” Frank suggests.

“Too close to Iron Maiden,” Jeff says, taking the joint from Eddie so he can get a hit. 

“I am Iron Coffin!” Gareth does his best interpretation of the robotic voice that kicks off the song Iron Man. 

“Silver Coffin?” Jeff asks through a cough.

“Reminds me of Silver Surfer,” Gareth says. He twists himself around on the couch so his legs are hanging over the back and his head is upside down, inches from the floor.

“The who?” Frank asks.

“That name’s taken,” Jeff jokes.

“No, who’s the damn Silver Surfer?” Frank clarifies.

Gareth picks his head up enough to stare at Frank, two cushions over from him, as if he’s insulted by the very question. 

“Seriously? From the Fantastic Four?” Gareth says.

“Fucking nerd,” Frank says with a laugh.

“Says the guy who can recite every line the lion says in the Narnia books,” Jeff shoots back.

“His name is Aslan,” Frank defends, his cheeks turning pink. 

“My apologies.” Jeff gives a sarcastic bow—the best he can from his seated position, anyway. 

“Can we get back to naming the band, please?” Eddie asks before taking another hit of the joint.

Gareth stretches his head back to look at Eddie in his upside down position. He throws out his arm and points at Frank.

“He thinks comics are nerdier than Narnia,” Gareth whines. 

Eddie lets his eyes slip closed, the effects of the marijuana kicking in being the only thing keeping him from getting irritated.

“Fantastic Four has the fire dude, that wins right there,” he says.

“Ha!” Gareth gloats.

“What about celestial?” Jeff asks.

“Who’s that?” Gareth asks. He stretches his arm out towards Eddie who hands him the joint.

“No, for our band name. Celestial Coffin.”

Frank tilts his head from side to side, considering it. 

“Meh,” he decides.

“I do like it being two C words, though,” Eddie says. “Maybe a hard C sound, though? Alliteration.”

“Cursed Coffin,” Gareth says. 

This kicks off each band member thinking of any and all words that have the hard C sound.

“Creepy Coffin.”

“Cannibal Coffin.”

“Candy Coffin.”

“Coughin’ Coffin.”

“Commode Coffin.”

“Coffee Coffin.”

“Correlating Coffin.”

“Cunty Coffin.”

The moment the words leave Gareth’s lips, the door opens and his mother gasps. Her brow furrows as she steps into the garage with a laundry basket on her hip.

“Gareth Bartholomew Emerson, I better not have heard what I think I did,” she warns as she stalks over to the washing machine.

Frank snickers. “Bartholomew.”

Gareth punches Frank right in the shin to get him to shut up. 

Mrs. Emerson quickly disappears back into the house and the name game continues.

“Combusting Coffin.”

“Crowded Coffin.”

“Children’s Coffin.”

All the guys stare at Gareth after that one.

“Dude, that’s too fucking dark even for us,” Eddie says. 

“Yeah, doesn’t have the hard C either,” Gareth sighs.

“Cool Coffin.”

“Crunchy Coffin.”

“Corny Coffin.”

“Cantankerous Coffin.”

“Clitoral Coffin,” Frank suggests.

“What’s that mean?” Gareth asks. 

“This is why you don’t have a girlfriend,” Eddie says with a snort of laughter. 

“Girls have asked me out before!” Gareth insists, but other guys ignore him.

“Man, what the fuck are we going to call it?” Eddie asks, rubbing a hand over his tired face. 

Jeff leans forward and holds his head in his hands.

“What would look cool written on the drum set?” he muses. 

“What gives off a metal image when you hear it?” Eddie poses. 

“Now I’m picturing a metal coffin,” Frank says. 

“Is that a thing?” Gareth asks, passing the joint to his couch mate. 

“I don’t think so,” Eddie says. “The metal would get all cor—oh shit.”

“What?” Jeff asks, turning his head to look at his friend. 

A smile slowly grows on Eddie’s lips until it’s a full blown grin. There’s a spark in his eyes as well, Jeff notices. 

“Corroded,” Eddie says. He looks from band member to band member, gauging their reactions. “Corroded Coffin.”

“Holy hell,” Jeff says.

“Well, shit,” Frank says through a laugh.

Gareth rights his position on the ripped plaid couch and leans forward.

“That’s fucking good.” 

Eddie feels proud of himself for coming up with that, not that he’d say that out loud to the guys. But he feels the name rolls off the tongue and sounds pretty damn cool. 

“Corroded Coffin.” Gareth tries the name out. “Yeah. Yeah, I like it.”

“So, we’re agreed?” Jeff asks, looking between his three friends. “We are officially Corroded Coffin?”

“Hell yeah,” Frank answers. 

“Let’s do it,” Gareth adds. 

Jeff looks at Eddie, who still has the ghost of a smile on his face.

“Let me try it out,” Eddie says. He clears his throat and then says in his best Dungeon Master voice, “Madison Square Garden, please welcome…Corroded Coffin!”

The other three pretend to cheer and hoot as the audience. 

Eddie licks over his lips and nods his head. 

“Corroded Coffin it is.”

[arielburrow]

Joe being nervous of you meeting his family

Pumpkin Pie

nothing like a Thanksgiving fic in June 🤭

Fall in Ohio was definitely your favorite time of the year. The leaves changing always signaled to you mentally that football season was in full swing and the holidays were around the corner.

You take in the scenery for a moment before continuing to your boyfriends front door. “Joe!” you call out, entering his home.

“Hey you!” he welcomes you with a warm hug after being away from each other for a week. You traveled to Pennsylvania to visit family and attend an event with other NFL photographers that the league hosted annually.

“How was your trip? How’s your mom doing?” he questions as you both take a seat on the couch.

“Shes doing good, I saw my sister, it was really nice to be home for a bit and see everyone before they leave.” Your mom was traveling to Europe with her lifelong best friend, which you were a little concerned about at her age, but she insisted it had to be checked off the bucket list. Your sister was also heading to Florida to stay with her husband’s family for Thanksgiving, so your mom wanted everyone to be together since you’d be apart for the holiday.

“That’s good to hear, but i’m glad your back, I missed you a lot.” He smirks pulling you to his chest.

“I know Joe I missed you too, you know it’s funny we’ve only been officially dating for a month and I don’t even like being apart from you for a week.” You giggle into his chest.

“Yep. Joe Burrow effect.” He innocently shrugs receiving a nudge from you causing him to laugh.

“Hey I have a question….” he leads on. You look up to him with a bit of concern.

“Can you…I mean….do you by any chance like pumpkin pie?”

You laugh at his demeanor, he seemed almost scared for your response. “ I love pumpkin pie Joe, why do you ask?”

“oh thank GOD.” he looks almost relieved as he stands from the couch and walks to the fridge. You watch as he pulls a Costco pumpkin pie from the fridge, this of course being the only thing in the fridge besides a bottle of ketchup. He grabs two forks and heads back to you, placing the pie between you two and handing you a fork.

“Here.” he smiles and reaches for the remote to find a movie.

“Plates?” you ask.

“Nope, we don’t need them.” he insists.

“alright then.”

After a long night of Joe showing you how much he missed you, you got up early for a workout with your best friend.

She catches you up on her guy drama and you fill her in on Joe.

“Oh so you’re going to Thanksgiving with Joe’s family? That’ll be fun!” She responds to you’re blurb about you being home for the holiday.

You whip your head towards her as you both push through the stairmaster.

“Um what?” You respond in complete shock at your assumption.

“Well yeah…I mean, what is Joe gonna do, drive to Athens and leave you here for Thanksgiving? No way, he’s gonna want you to go with him.”

“I’ve never met his family before though, he makes them sound so sweet but that’s like a huge thing.” You respond between huffs, wiping your hand of the sweat along your forehead.

The two of you go back in forth on the conversation as you finish your workout. Leaving the gym you couldn’t help but to overthink the situation. Was Joe assuming you would just go with him? He might not even be considering it?

After showering and ordering takeout, you finally have time to wind down in your own apartment. You were finishing up some editing when Joe texted.

Joe❤️- dinner tmr night, I’m cooking

you- you mean your chef is cooking?

Joe❤️-😉

The next day you spend at the facility and finishing up more editing. Heading to Joe’s house the question rings through your head again. Does he want me to meet his parents?

You can immediately smell the fajitas Joe requests weekly as you walk into his house. You greet his chef and make your way upstairs do find him on the phone with someone. You walk into his room quietly and plop down next to him, soon able to put together that he must be talking to his mother. As he hangs up he turns back to face you, pulling you into him. “You hungry?” he questions. “Starving” you respond pulling him up from the bed to go back downstairs.

You both take a seat at the table as the chef brings over the food; both expressing your gratitude for the meal, after all, neither of you could cook. Without Joe’s chef, takeout would be the only option. You both make small talk throughout dinner and go over each others days.

“I heard you talking to your mom, how is she doing?” you ask picking up the glass of water. “She’s good, she was just checking in on things, asking me about Thanksgiving and stuff. I’m on pumpkin pie duty because she knows i’m picky about where the pie is from.” He babbles on, you laugh at the pie comment. “You know i’ve know you for almost a year and was given no insight into the punpkin pie fanatic that you are.” he gives you a surprised look. “Umm, what do you mean? Friendsgiving last year? At Jamarr’s? The pie that everyone was raving about…the one that I brought.” He goes on bragging about this situation which you have zero memory of, but give him the credit any way.

“So, since your family’s all out of town, what are you going to do for the holiday?” he looks up to you with seemingly hopeful eyes. “Um I don’t really know honestly, maybe i’ll just hang around here or go to Anna’s place?” you responded taking both of your plates to the sink.

“Why don’t you come with me?” he asks. “To Athens for the night, we won’t stay long cause of practice and everything but it would be nice for you to meet my family” he picks up the dishes to clean as you seat yourself in a barstool across from him.

“You’re ready for me to meet them?” you ask watching him load the dishwasher. “Yeah, I mean i’ve been wanting you guys to meet for a long time and they never get to see you at games cause your always on the field.” he says.

You think for a moment, then smile. “Yeah i’ll go with you.” He smiles in return, walking over to you and sitting with you on the couch. “Can you stay tonight?” He asks pushing a strand of hair from your face. “I have to go to the office early tomorrow, like earlier then you go for practice,” you say to him. “That’s fine, I have to meet with Brian anyway.” he returns. “Okay then, im staying,” you respond shifting yourself to lay in his lap as he finds a show to watch. “My moms going to be so happy your coming,” you smile as you hear him say it before dozing off.

A week later your packing a bag for Joe’s house. You were heading over there tonight, and leaving tomorrow morning for his parents house. You had him on FaceTime at the moment as you got everything together. “I hope you like them, I mean i know they’ll love you, but I hope you like them and-”

“Joe” you cut him off laughing. “They’re you’re parents, i’m going to love them, don’t you worry. I’m the one whose supposed to be nervous not you!” you giggle. “I know, I know, it’s just really important to me you know? I love you and I want you to feel like you’re apart of the family.” You smile at what he says. You and Joe confessed your love for one an other a while ago, but it still made you blush hearing him say the phrase. “I love you too Joe, and I promise i’m so excited to become apart of your family.” You pick up the phone to see his face. You and Joe had a funny dynamic. Technically you had only been together for a month, but you fell for him way before that. The day you were hired by the Bengals you knew there would be a professional problem because you became addicted to him. His looks, his jokes, just being around him was like a drug for you and you knew there was no escaping. You were definitely a little nervous about meeting his parents, but you were excited that this was happening. It made this whole dream feel a little more real.

The next morning you wake up in Joes arms. The two of you spend the morning getting ready and Joe expressing his little worries to you which you insisted he stoped talking about. “You know they’re going to drown you with questions right?” He asks you getting in the car. “Joe, that’s okay, all you need to worry about is your pumpkin pie.” You console him cupping his cheeks as you lean over to kiss them. He glances to the backseat to ensure it’s there, making you laugh.

The drive to Athens is quiet and relaxing, you let Joe have aux for about 15 minutes before you steal the cord. Pulling into his parents driveway, you take in the old red brick home that seems to be gushing with childhood memories. Joe’s parents appear and you meet them with a warm hug and hello. Robin hugs Joe tightly after not seeing him for a few weeks. Walking into the house you’re immediate hit with the sweet smell of cinnamon spice and you can’t help but smile. The four of you take a seat on the couch and Robin explains that others will be joining soon. She asks about your job and how you like working with the organization. “It’s honestly amazing, I worked in Seattle for a while, but it doesn’t even compare to this organization, and it’s nice to be able to work back in my home state,” you say. “It’s definitely something special, they really care.” Jimmy chimes in with a smile. After some more small talk Joe and his dad talk football while Robin gathers photo albums. She sits with you as she shows you baby Joe and gives you a backstory on the pictures. You die over each picture which Joe rolls his eyes at. “I was three!” he yells over your reaction to the picture of him running bare naked in the street with a football in his hand.

You could immediately tell Joes parents were something special, they are a big part of the man he is today and you were so happy you got to join the Burrows.

Others arrive soon after, and the house fills with chatter. You make your way around meeting the others and saying hi to Joes friends who also joined dinner, who you have met before.

You help Robin and Joes aunts in the kitchen for a while, the four of you chattering for hours before Joe pulls you aside.

“So?” he asks. “So what Joey? You want a rating on your family? I love them, I love all of this, I promise. Stop overthinking this and go sit with your friends.” You reach up to kiss him on the cheek and he smiles and nods.

You finish helping with dinner and setting the table with Joe. You all finally sit down together, the table beaming with chatter and laughter. “Thank you all for being with us, those of you who were on time, and those who showed up five minutes ago.” Jimmy says glancing towards Joes brothers, causing everyone to laugh. “I’m just kidding, but really it’s nice to have everyone under the same roof for the holiday.” “we love you all, now please eat!” Robin adds with a smile. You make small talk with different relatives at the table and with Joe. After dinner, you sit with Robin and Joe’s aunts, while the guys do the dishes.

“So y/n, you and Joe are absolutely adorable, really I know that boy and how he is with girls and he is really in love with you.” His mom’s sister comments with a smile. You return the smile and you can’t lie that you felt a blush from that comment. You loved that she picked up on that. “Do you see your family often?” the other sister asks. “Sometimes, most of them are in Pennsylvania so they come to games some times and I just went up there last week to visit.” you respond. Everyone joins in the living room as Joe serves the pumpkin pie. Robin puts on a Christmas movie, insisting that it was now Christmas season, which you couldn’t argue with.

Joe takes a seat next to you and you rest your head on his shoulder. The rest of the night is filled with reminiscing on childhoods and lots of football. You hug everyone goodbye and Robin pulls you in tight. “Thank you y/n” she whispers “he really needs you” she smiles and moves to hug Joe goodbye. The drive home is again a comfortable silence that you happily doze off to, knowing you’re family just expanded tremendously.

[aruanimess]

What’s aruani’s weirdest quirk(s) as a couple? e.g baby talk, pet names, things they do when they’re mad, etc

Ohhhh, Luca! This was so fun to think about!!

Okay, first things first, I think they'd have weird quirks individually that in the course of their relationship the other picks up too. For Annie, it's the weird sound effects Armin does to accompany his actions. He'll lift something off the floor and let out a little "Whoop" as he does, he'll be cooking dinner and add little chop-chop-chops as he's (you guessed it) chopping up the vegetables or he'll be tossing ingredients in a pot and say "Bloom" as they splash into the water. Soon, Annie finds herself voicing little plops as she opens jars and creek-creeks as she closes a door that hasn't been oiled in a while. She remembers how her dad had forbidden her from making whooshing sounds while she was practicing her kicks and now she'll do it louder, more often, proudly.

Armin picks up Annie's love for nicknames. It was something he'd never imagined Annie would like, therefore he never bothered with endearments, but one day as they were lying in bed, Annie let a babe slip out and Armin never forgot. Armed with the knowledge that Annie wouldn't run away screaming if he called a pet name, he peppers in his own in conversations. Honey, dear, love become regular parts of his vocabulary. Annie's nicknames are usually embarrassingly macho-sounding, like tiger and champion and tough guy (almost like she's too shy to call him something sweet), but she sometimes allows a handsome or a sunshine to come out and Armin lives for these moments.

Then there are the habits they develop together, like: biting each other! Annie will start pouting and whoop there comes Armin biting her nose. Armin will be rambling about his interests and suddenly Annie's teeth are at his cheekbone, murmuring something about him being too cute. Sometimes they'll even munch on each other in public, and Pieck and Reiner (or whoever is with them really) will be left exchanging awkward, bewildered glances.

It's not all fun and games however, because when these two are fighting the silent treatment begins! Of course they're too opinionated to just shut up, so they start passing angry notes to each other as a substitute for talking. Unfortunately for Annie, Armin is much more verbose, so he's usually winning those arguments. She has to resort to violence to gain some ground, and by violence I mean destroying his notes in increasingly creative ways. She'll tear them to pieces, set them on fire, toss them out the window, anything!

Once, she was so mad she crumbled up the paper and swallowed it whole. Armin was left to stare at her with his mouth open. He was so concerned for her health, he forgot all about the argument and took her to the doctor immediately.

To this day, Annie still claims she won that fight. 

[babyhedonistt]

Too Close to Touch // THREE

Warning: Smut, violence, swearing,

Jolly plopped himself on the bed, scrolling through his phone while Ruffilo sat next to him. Brushing his hair while watching a youtube video on his phone in his lap. Noah was in the shower. He had been in there for over an hour and the two boys were beginning to wonder the activities that were happening 5 feet from their bed.  You resided in the room next to them. You would be caught dead before you shared a room with three boys.

“Did he tell you?” Jolly inquired looking up at Ruffilo. “Tell me what?” He replied, setting his hairbrush down as he threw his hair in a messy bun. Jolly takes out his phone, the brightness illuminating his face in the dim light of the room and hands it to Ruffilo. His eyebrows crease as his eyes scanned the phone.

Lead singer Noah Sebastian of the metal band Bad Omens accused of plagiarism with latest hit ‘ Just Pretend ‘.

Ruffilo is quiet for a few seconds before a long sigh leaves his mouth and his eyes meet Jolly’s. “I didn’t hear anything about this. Does Noah and Folio know?” He asks calmly. Jolly nods. “I found it off his phone. Conversation between him and Y/N when I snatched it from his hands. Didn’t mean to look at it but I saw it.”

“So Y/N knows? That must be what they were talking about when they were in the dressing room.” Ruffilo clarifies and Jolly nods in agreement. “You think Matt knows?” He added and Ruffilo shrugs. “I don’t know how he wouldn’t. I’ll text him right now to come to the room.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t deal with this right now, Nick. It’s late and- “

“I already sent the message.” Ruffilo sighs turning off his phone before the bathroom door opens and Noah steps out, wearing a towel around his waist, his hair messy and wet and steam spilling out of the bathroom.

Nick Ruffilo could be serious when needed, but when he is, he isn’t one to be around. He looks over at Noah and clears his throat. “So be real Noah, when were you gonna tell me about this one?” Ruffilo holds up his phone tilting his head.

Noah rolls his eyes as he picks out his clothes to wear to bed, “Nick, it’s not that deep.” He says, not even looking at him. “Does Matt know at least?” Nick sighs, his legs off the side of the bed, facing Noah.

“I don’t know.”

“This is what you and Y/N were talking about earlier yeah?” Jolly chimes in with a scoff. “She doesn’t have anything to do with this, Jolly.” Noah says, standing up straight, pulling a t-shirt over his head and crossing his arms. “I never said she did dude. I’m just asking if that’s what you guys were talking about.” He explains.

A knock sounds on the door. Ruffilo stands up and walks over, opening the door revealing the band’s manager Matt. “What the hell did you guys wake me up for?” He groans. His disheveled hair was hidden under a beanie and he rubbed the tiredness from his eyes, while his other hand was tucked in his sweatpants pocket.

Ruffilo closes the door behind Matt before sitting back on the bed beside Jolly. “Why don’t you tell him, Noah? Since you want to tell Y/N everything except your own bandmates.” Ruffilo said, pointing his chin at Noah. “What about? The plagiarism accusations? I know all about it.” Matt shrugs. Noah shows no change in his emotions as Ruffilo and Jolly wait for clarification. “I’m handling it, guys. If I thought, it was serious I would have told you when it happened.”

Jolly’s demeanor seems to change but Ruffilo wasn’t convinced. “Ever since Folio got injured, our communication has been shitty as hell.” He complains. Noah scoffs. “It’s not always going to be perfect Nick.”

“No, but it’s unprofessional as fuck, especially you.” He points at Noah. “We’ve been best friends before this band was even formed and I come to find out you tell Folio’s SISTER about an incident effecting OUR band before Jolly or myself.” He scolds him.

“They’ve known each other as long as you two have Nick.” Jolly adds.

“Still. She looks like she wants to kill him half the time. Their relationship doesn’t make sense.” Ruffilo rolls his eyes. Noah opens his mouth to retaliate before Matt holds up his hand. “There’s no relationship between Noah and Y/N that isn’t professional, okay? She won’t be on the tour much longer so can all of you suck this shit up for two more shows? Please?”

“Folio and myself seem to be the only two people that don’t have an issue with her.” Jolly claims. “It’s not that I have an issue with her! It just seems like Noah can’t ever focus or pull the stick out of his ass whenever she’s around.” Ruffilo’s hand falls on his thigh with an audible slap. “Well that’s Noah’s problem. Never been a fan of change.” Matt shoots a glare in Noah’s direction. “This doesn’t even involve her, all the plagiarism shit.” Noah says, his eyes glues to his hands, in which he was picking the black nail polish off his fingernails.

“Yeah, THAT might not involve her. But shit is gonna get out about you two the longer she is in this band.” Ruffilo claims. “Nick, that’s not—“ Jolly starts.

“I haven’t said a word.” Noah spits at his best friend.

“Neither has she but it may as well be written across your forehead in sharpie with the tension between the two of you.”

“Nick, take a walk.” Matt holds up his hands to stop him. Noah’s jaw tightens at his comment. Ruffilo gets off the bed and opens the door to the hotel room, walking down the hallway with rage fuming from his ears. Jolly sighs, standing up from the bed. “I’ll go stay with him.” He says, bowing out of the room. Matt walks over to the door, closing it and turning back to Noah, who may has well have had guilt written on his face.

“You and I have to revisit that NDA between you and Y/N, Noah.”

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

To be continuedd

[ekwolfwriter-blog]

WIP Zutara Month Challenge: Drunk (Part 2)

So here is part two. Again, as mentioned in the other one, this will be talking more mature themes. You have been warned!

As for the next idea is for a WIP I call: Thank you, Cactus Juice!

The premise of this is Zuko being a bit high/ drunk on Cactus Juice. I had an old set up of Sokka making it when they were older which I will share but I think I might rework to something else. (It gets into more mature themes to read at your own discretion!)

And yet again, I am splitting it into two more parts because as I was thinking of this idea I came up with something I really liked. But could not decide

Something like they are all older (obviously) and maybe Sokka managed to sneak some of the cactus juice - for some use in the future, Katara is livid, Zuko is on her side on this. But Sokka suggests just small sips to take the edge off. Toph is only allowed one small sip as she gets wild with her drinks and Aang makes sure everyone is just not causing trouble as he does not want to drink. And to no surprise of some people, Zuko is a bit of a brooding dragon, but is calm while Katara turns into a giggly and cuddly in Zuko's arms. Sokka is tripping out before he suddenly comes to to see them cuddling while Suki is smiling and smirking the whole time but definitely feeling it like "I knew it."

Eventually they wake up and Katara realizes that she braided one of her beads into his hair. And if you know the significance - like Sokka does, one can already tell what they might have been thinking about~

(Side note - I know there is debate about if it is actual a hallucinogen like shrooms from what I heard never had it before or a suppressant like alcohol . But for now, I am going to say it is kinda like both - maybe in a concentration, it could be more like a drink. But in it's raw form, it causes people to go high.)

As for the current iteration, Zuko comes back to the palace loopy drunk because Sokka made Cactus Juice wine - kinda the same effect. And it makes Zuko at first pouty because it hits him hard before he can process that it was taking affect but then when he gets to see Katara, his mood turns around. (Again all adults and Aged up) But here is a snippet:

“Of course, my precious waterbender,” Zuko said as he plopped her down but kept her close to him. He still had that huge smile from before as he was looking at her and swaying, using her as support in a way. His top knot was nowhere to be seen as his hair was dangling in front of his face and his long hair was tossed around, but Katara could tell he was still looking right at her with such loving eyes.

Katara was still blushing too from how affectionate he was being. “Thank you, but are you okay? You seem out of it.”

“I am perfectly happy!” He exclaimed as he then leans into her again and hugs her tightly again. “I finally get to see my favorite girl tonight and hold her close. Nothing beats having my Katara here in my arms! My precious treasure should not have been left for long.”

“Oh… I was fine Zuko, honest,” Katara affirmed to him as she is getting flustered. ‘What is with Zuko? Granted, I love it when he is affectionate, but this is a whole new level. What did Sokka give him?’

“Zuko, where did you go?” A voice echoed from the halls as Katara tried to peak over Zuko’s board shoulders that were keeping her in his embrace. She managed to lean over and see Sokka walking by, seemingly intoxicated with something as he was flushed in the face.

“In here,” Katara managed to say over being lovingly smothered by Zuko, and surprised by the deep breathing he was exhibiting that sounded like low growls that were making it hard to focus.

Sokka looked over into the open room and then blinked at what he was seeing. Katara managed to get her hand to a point to wave and then point to Zuko. “Care to explain this?” she asked, her voice muffled a little.

Sokka then sighs. “Should have known this was what he was pouting over, damn drama king.” He bemoaned, almost not answering his sister’s question.

“Sokka, what are you talking about?” she asked as she managed to turn Zuko enough to have her face Sokka. Katara was not going to break away from Zuko hugging her, but she was finding it difficult to adjust in his embrace. Especially as he would pull her back in each time she managed to pull a bit, and that deep growl in his chest still pounding in her ears.

“It was all fine and dandy. We were just talking and having a few drinks. And I will admit, I was curious to see what Zuko drunk was like.”

“Sokka, you know that Zuko drinks socially and has a high tolerance,” Katara commented as she looked on confused at why Sokka thought that was going to work. Katara’s face turned red as Zuko was nuzzling his face against hers like a fox cat and was making it difficult to concentrate and her heart racing.

“Well duh, that is why we tried something else. But Mister Fire Lord of Pouts over there stared acting like a drama king after we tried some new drink I made. And while Iroh and I were having a blast, he was sulking and pouting without any reason,” Sokka began as he leaned against the door for support.

“You should have seen him. The more he had, the more he huffed like a dragon. Undoing his shirt and running his hand through his hair, sprawling on the seats we had like he was posing for some adult news scroll and flicking his head back like he was so over it. At some point, he was starting to sulk on the same couch and was muttering about seeing ‘his waterbender’ and ‘missing her so much’ that it was all he could say until we got him back here.”

“Well, that doesn’t make any sense of this,” Katara pointed to as she managed to turn around in Zuko’s arms as he was now nuzzling into her hair while her back was to his chest. This prompted Zuko to pull her in more and make her bend forward as he tried to cuddle her more. Katara let out a bit of a gasp at this as she could feel how strong he was, and how wonderful it felt to be held like this. She made a mental note to have him do this more often.

“How should I know? Not like I know what Cactus Juice Wine will do to someone all the time,” he shrugged, taking another sip of it.

Katara’s eyes widened. “You gave him what?!” Katara began to panic a little over hearing this.

“Cactus Juice Wine. I watered it down a bit,” he said. “Relax sis. It’s safe.”

“Sokka, that thing made you loopy for a whole day when that was unrefined! I don’t even want to know what a bottle of that stuff would do to you or someone else that is new to it. Are you feeling okay?”

“I am totally…” Sokka stared to say then looked like he was seeing something as he giggled and pretended to swat at something.

Katara sighed as she should have known that it would end like this. She glanced up to a still affectionate Zuko as he was muttering things like ‘so soft’ or ‘my lovely waterbender’ that was making her heart pound out of her chest from excitement of being called those things. Zuko was taller than her, so he could rest his head on top of hers if he wanted; and from the look of his smile, he was content for now.

“And you seem to be fine with all of this. Where is this so-called pouting prince that Sokka was talking about?” she asked him.

“Hmm,” Zuko thought as he was being vocal to be obvious. Katara only has seen him like this when they are teasing each other. “How can I be pouting when my beloved waterbender is here? And she is warm and soft, which makes me happy.”

‘Damn it, why did Sokka have to get him this drunk when I am the only one sober here?!’ Katara was cursing mentally as she managed to free her hand from Zuko’s strong embrace.

Hope you enjoyed! I will try to get another one done soon!

[tofuxtea]

𝐀𝐋𝐁𝐄𝐃𝐎 | 𝘢𝘱𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘢𝘤 + 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘢𝘴𝘮

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 — albedo x fem!reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 — aphrodisiacs, controlled orgasm, use of sex toys, reader is basically albedo’s consenting lab rat, SLIGHT dub-con in the sense that albedo did not initially mention the sex toys, albedo does not rlly engage sexually, i think that’s all tbh LMAO

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 — omfg i feel like ive been dead from tumblr but THANK U GUYS SO MUCH FOR 1K!! here is a present x-tra long no pun intended! this is not proofread btw

aphrodisiac strand 12B. unidentified independent variables to be used on subject after first start of symptoms. begin.

albedo set the petal of a flower onto your tongue, his gloved hand forcing your jaw shut while the other pressed a button on his timer. you winced at the watered down flavor of an earthly sweetness, letting the soaked petal dissolve with your saliva and wash down your throat in one swallow. albedo watched the rise and fall of your throat, quickly noting the time it was ingested.

“why are you doing experiments on aphrodisiacs? i didn’t think you’d take an interest in those.” you swung your feet over the side of his experiment table you sat on, wanting to cut through the tense silence that filled the chilly cavern. even through your dense coat, the violent dragonspine temperatures snaked through to your skin.

albedo didn’t flinch. sometimes it was aweing at how nothing bothered him, even after finding out he was an artificial human. “well,” the man began, setting his clipboard onto the adjacent table. “truthfully, they don’t affect me, but i want to find a way to make safe dosages for people to consume for their own pleasure. not too much, not too little. i think of it as a… personal experiment. this data is only mine.” he explained calmly, squinting at the propped up timer. “anything?”

you hummed and shook your head. albedo sighed.

“the others were faster. maybe something’s wrong with this strand.”

you cleared your throat, forcing albedo to turn towards you. “the others had me humping your leg. maybe a safe dosage is one that takes a minute.” albedo spared you a chuckle, recalling the humiliating effects of the past experiments.

3A had you fingering yourself right on albedo’s table, trying to seduce him into “helping” you, but the stubborn bastard refused to interfere with the experiment. 8B was less intense, it had slowed your breathing so severely that albedo had to hover over you to administer CPR if it came to it, but you grabbed at anything you could use to relieve yourself, even albedo’s waist while your thighs squeezed his. that time, he didn’t care about interfering and let you sweat off the effects. that data was screwed no matter what.

“let me know when you feel anything.” albedo headed off to the other side of the cave, leaving thick tracks in the soft ground behind him. he grabbed a cardboard box off of a lone table in the back and retraced his steps, plopping it next to his clipboard.

“what’s that?” you asked, searching for any sort of label on it. it was completely blank. your legs slowed to a stop when he didn’t immediately answer. “‘bedo, what is this experiment? it’s just recording symptoms, right?” the panic bubbling in your voice was evident and albedo immediately raised his hands to settle you down.

“i apologize for not informing you sooner, but i’m satisfied with the symptom data we have now. i’m tweaking one of the variables i never focused on before,” he glanced your way and hesitantly continued. “and that is how long symptoms last after starting stimulus. a common find in experiments 1A to 8A—” you shot albedo a glare of embarrassment, “—was how prolonged your symptoms were due to lack of proper stimulation. self inflicted stimulation wouldn’t mirror intercourse, so i’m going to see how long symptoms last after i stimulate you.”

you were rendered utterly speechless, jaw slackened. “what’s in the box?” you sounded defeated now, aware that talking albedo out of an experiment was impossible. he complied to your finger points and lifted the lid off the box, pulling several vibrators and dildos out. “oh, my god.” it came out as barely above a whisper and you squeezed your thighs shut as a ripple of excitement rolled through your stomach. “first symptom, heat in the stomach, heightened pleasure.”

albedo snatched the clipboard and scribbled down your response. “you know, we can hold off on this and keep doing symptom data if you’re not comfortable. you’re my partner as well.”

it would have been endearing if it wasn’t for the tingle that seared the ends of your nerves and forced you to clamp your eyes shut. “it’s okay, ‘bedo, but i need you to put one of those dicks in me now.”

you thanked god your usual attire to albedo’s lab consisted of the skirt and sweater you changed into every day after shedding your many snowy layers, and that he was able to easily slip one of the vibrators underneath the plaid fabric and press it against your clit. you grasped onto his shoulder with a surprising grip, body arching from the pleasure between your thighs.

“fu—fuck, ‘bedo,” you strained against clenched teeth. it was all your fried mind allowed you to say, anything else a vast white expanse of burning pleasure you found yourself lost in. the sensation was far more intense than it should have been, the vibration barely low enough to bring a moan out of you, but with the aphrodisiac it had you a blubbering mess.

“interesting.” albedo mumbled, switching his grasp on the wand and fluctuating the pressure of it while his other hand nudged your legs further apart. you pressed the back of your hand to your mouth and let yourself droop against albedo’s body. “i’m going to increase the power.”

he did exactly as he said he would and you were beyond humiliated by the cries that tore from your throat and made your thighs violently shake against his palm. “symptoms?” he asked softly into your ear.

“s—same. body temp—shit—temperature rising, nerves, ah, sensitive—don’t stop.” you panted against his shoulder, daring to rut into the wand to match his rhythmic thrusts against your clit. your leg hooked around his waist, trying to give yourself any sort of leverage to keep your own grinds consistent with the toy’s. albedo’s rhythm faltered for a fraction of a second and you wouldn’t have noticed if it were experiment 8B, but you didn’t touch on it, thinking his grip may have slipped.

“y/n, do you mind if i, ah,” albedo’s voice dropped scarily low, “continue?” you had no idea exactly what the question entailed and quite frankly, you didn’t care. your mind had been fried beyond function after albedo switched the vibrator to its nth notch. all you could do was nod against his shoulder and pray he got the message.

keeping his trained fingers around the bullet, his other hand searched for something inside of the box. his plans must have exceeded the actual process telling by how much clattering you heard coming from inside of it. you could only imagine what kind of things he was going to use on you.

when he found what he was looking for, you prepared to wince at the sight of some BDSM contraption. but what you saw was nowhere near it. a pretty normal sized dildo — which he set a few feet from your thighs while he looked for something else. he pulled a small vial out and popped the top off with his thumbnail, hastily drizzling the stuff over the silicone toy.

all of it was difficult to keep track of with the pleasant pressure of the vibrator against your clit, frying all of your neurons in the process. albedo noticed this. “any changes? lessening? increasing?” his voice was completely calm, like honey in your ears.

“increasing.” you had a sudden rush of newfound strength and gripped his shoulder, shamelessly pushing your hips against the vibrator. albedo’s breath caught in his throat, but his composure remained. he pulled the bullet away completely and raised a reprimanding brow.

“this is my experiment, okay sweetheart?” you knew he meant it in a soothing manner, but the pet name rendered you frozen and you were sure your face had flushed much deeper. this he either genuinely didn’t or willingly chose not to notice. “can’t have skewed data — we’ve made it this far, right?”

“mm—hmm.” your body stiffened when the bullet nudged itself back between your legs. you let his gloved hand push them further apart, his ring finger and pinky steady on your inner thigh.

“is it okay if i touch you? it’s alright if you’d like to prep yourself.” he lowered his gaze to the side of your head where you slumped against his chest. registering his words with eyes clamped shut, you nodded.

“go ahead.”

he held your panties to the side while his middle finger gently prodded at your cunt, the leather hardly warm from his hands. you stifled a cry, the aphrodisiac’s effects suddenly beginning to coil in your gut. albedo kept on and slid his finger in almost to the knuckle. “seems you don’t need much preparation.”

you squeezed his bicep. oh, shut up it said. you were already dripping wet, his glove glistening every time he’d move back. he didn’t flinch and even added a second finger. they moved with ease, letting him know you were prepped enough.

“let me know when you’re about to come.” it was all the warning he gave while he smeared thick, clear lube over the toy before pushing it in. the sensation was overwhelming. you cried out and your hand held onto the back of his neck, fingers raking up through his hair. “any change in symptoms?”

“still increasing—fuck!” you braced yourself on one hand, the other still lost in his dusty blond locks. “‘bedo, it’s not calming down like the others, it’s too much.” you whined with each of his languid thrusts. as much as you wanted to try to shut your legs from the fiery stimulation, your thighs spread even further, your heel catching on the edge of the table to give him a better angle.

albedo adjusted his wrist accordingly and matched his thrusts to your fervor, increasing the pressure of the vibrator as well. your head fell back, cries spilling from your lips. “god, ‘bedo! f—faster, ‘m so close! please, please, please,”

the man observed your expression closely: eyebrows tented with pleasure, eyes squeezed shut, lips parted and wet. your cries were getting higher and louder by the second, telling albedo what he already knew. before you could even announce it, he removed the toys and took half a step back.

“albedo, what the fuck are you doing?” you hissed. your hands made a wild grab for his and your heel tried to catch the back of his leg to yank him close. “i was so close, ‘bedo, you can’t be serious.”

his turquoise eyes held no remorse. instead, he switched the dildo to his other hand and picked his pen up, jotting down some notes and stealing glances at the timer. you huffed, a silent demand for an answer. “i told you. today’s data is going to be a bit different.” was all he said as he pressed something on the stopwatch. a small beep sounded.

disregarding the anger radiating off of you, he nudged back in between your legs and switched the vibrator back on. the confusion was wiped clean off of your face in the blink of an eye. the abrupt changes in albedo’s actions were stimulating you more than before, possibly a reaction from the aphrodisiac.

“shit, ‘bedo, it’s stronger,” you spoke over the cries bubbling in your throat, your voice strained and teeth clenching. “it’s increasing more — fuck — what are you doing to me?”

“if i do this, what happens?” the heel of his palm pushed the tip of the dildo into you, your arousal making it easy. you took your bottom lip between your teeth, biting hard enough to draw blood.

“keep going, please.” you begged like a whining dog with a treat on its nose. albedo complied without hesitation. the thick, silicone shaft filled you to the suction cup base, albedo’s gloved knuckles grazing your inner thighs.

“are you close?” the blonde’s voice was unmistakably gravelly in your ear. all you could do was whimper a meek ‘mm—hm’ and nod.

“good.”

oh, it was going to be a long day.

hands down the sloppiest ending i ever wrote but i gotta get this out before finals😭 COME GET YALLS JUICE