#I love my tacky banners

[icharchivist]

wait hold on

DUDE I LEGIT LIKED HIM AT FIRST SIGHT SO MUCH I MADE A B A N N ER ABOUT IT I WAS ALREADY FUCKED.

[haeryna]

the sadness we shared is my clarity ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ ↪ fushiguro megumi x reader

summary: it's spring when fushiguro megumi finds you. it's summer when he realizes he loves you. but as the days shorten, and time runs out, megumi realizes you're slipping away.

tw: angst, as per usual. mentions of gore, and sexual tension but nothing explicit or nsfw. you and megumi are both idiots. half of this was churned out in a day so please give the author grace. not proofread. arrangedmarriage!au and friends to enemies to lovers. megumi is Mean. mutual pining, so much that i want to throw up. mmm yummy clan politics

notes: banner by the lovely @/cafekitsune! title taken from txt's deja vu. had this fic rotting in my head and in my drive. dedicated to riko, for being one of the first mooties i ever had. love you @riaki !!

also i'm sorry everyone for vanishing off the face of the earth pls accept this fic as an apology :'))

part one/??

It’s summer, and the air in Kawasaki is miserably hot and oppressive. Tacky skin clings to thick cloth, and Megumi grimaces at the feeling. Gojo had finally decided to send all the first years together on a mission to deal with a group of Grade 3 spirits, deeming his pupils “worthy to finally make their debut!” To celebrate, Nobara had corralled everyone to a small cafe, located near the train station. “Cmon, this place has air conditioning, and Ijichi won’t be here for at least another hour,” she insists, fingers wrapped around the curve of your wrist. Begrudgingly, Megumi follows along, heavy with the knowledge that where you go, he'll follow.

He can’t help but sneak glances over, as you and Nobara fawn over the icy desserts and drinks the cafe has to offer. The soft swoop of your neck is revealed as you lean in closer to peer at the deserts hidden behind the glass. A bead of sweat trickles down into the hollow of your collarbone, and Megumi swallows hard, forcing himself to look away. The flush on his cheeks is from the summer heat, he tells himself. He can’t quite bring himself to believe it. 

“Fushiguro!” you call out, and he forces himself to look at you. “What is it?” 

“Aren’t you going to get a drink?”

Megumi hesitates, before grumbling an affirmative. As the other three move to secure a table, he turns to face the cashier. She seems younger than him by a few years, makeup done even in the hot weather with mascaraed eyelashes batting at him innocently. She misses the proffered bills, running her hand along his, before apologizing a bit breathily. “It’s fine,” Megumi sighs. His thoughts wander as the cashier chatters away mindlessly. You were favoring your right side. Were you injured? Had one of the curses somehow reached you before he could stop them? Your technique had seemed to wane towards the end of the fight. Were you overexerted? Did he have to speak to Gojo about how hard he’d been training you? 

He pulls himself from his thoughts just in time to notice the cashier leaning over the counter, watching him curiously. “Would you like a receipt, sir?” 

“No,” is his curt reply, shoving all of his traitorous thoughts of you deep down inside of himself. The cashier pouts. “If you fill out a survey, you can get five dollars off on your purchase!” 

Megumi can feel himself grimacing. Nobara would kick his ass if he didn’t at least take it and offer it to her. “Fine then.” As he turns back to the table, he scowls at the too-bright smile on Yuuji’s face. “What’s that look for?” 

“Fushiguro, she was totally hitting on you!” 

He swats away the eager high five. “Did the curses fuck with your brain or something?” 

“No, seriously, look at the receipt she gave you!” 

Megumi can feel the heat of your gaze as he unravels the receipt. Under the printed text of “FIVE DOLLARS OFF AFTER SURVEY COMPLETION!” was a line of neatly printed numbers. Scowling, he shoves the offending piece of paper in your direction. “Here. Take it.” 

“I don’t want your leftovers,” you shoot back, eyes blazing, and his traitorous heart wrenches. “It’s not for the number, idiot. Weren’t you and Kugisaki just complaining about spending that much money on drinks? Take the survey and stop whining.” 

He lets himself fall back in the familiar rhythm of bickering with Nobara as she swats at him. He’ll do anything to avoid the way your offended gaze turns thoughtful, how you seem to study his face as he forces himself to continue the lie he’s let himself live. You cannot be his, Megumi thinks desperately, even after the four of you depart the cafe, and after you toss the crumpled up wad of paper into the trash can. Even as you fall asleep in the backseat of the car, head perched onto his shoulder, he fights down the growing panic and nausea. He would rather break his own heart in the process than let you suffer from his affections. 

Cursed, he thinks. There’s a reason his mother passed, his father killed, and his sister stolen away. He’s as cursed as the shadows that seep from his domain with their tendrils that wrap and curl over every inch of light. Megumi has already accepted that the feelings that grow by the day can never be revealed. You, with your sunshine laugh, whose tender hands would always reach for him after a mission. Fushiguro, you’d say, kindly. You’re hurt again. Let me grab the first aid kit. You, with your hands that are soft and gentle, as much as Megumi’s hands are calloused and stained. 

I love you, he finally admits, as he carries you from the car back to your room. Yuuji had an ankle injury, and Nobara couldn’t handle hauling your weight up the stairs leading back to Jujutsu Tech. At least, that’s what he tells himself, as he shifts your weight in his arms, feeling the way you subconsciously pressed yourself closer to him. I love you. Your eyelashes flutter in your sleep, brow crinkling ever so slightly. Gently, Megumi smoothes it over with his thumb. I love you. 

Fushiguro Megumi was by no means a religious man. He’d known that there was no god in the battlefields of a sorcerer, no mercy in the torturous death that only curses could offer. And yet, as he lowers you down to the comfort of your mattress, he finds himself praying. I’ll do anything, he thinks, as he watches you in the depths of your slumber. I’ll give up my body, my soul, my life. Just please let her live. Please let her be happy. 

Please give her someone that could take better care of her than I ever could. 

Fushiguro Megumi found you in the first rainfall of spring. 

You hadn't noticed him, quietly watching the droplets fall on the sakura trees planted near the perimeter of Jujutsu Tech. The edges of your kimono were stained with mud, with a chunk of your haori ripped out on the left side. Megumi frowned. Silk, he noted, and gold. You’re dressed too well to be here, but too oblivious to be a threat. Just to be sure, he let his fingers curl around the handle of one of his tonfas before he spoke. 

“Who are you?” 

Startled, you turned to face him, and his scowl deepened. You were pretty, even with your eyes rounded in shock, and the undignified noise that had escaped you when you realized you weren’t alone. When you told him your name, voice hesitant, Megumi couldn't help but hate the way his heart reacted as you spoke. 

“I’m looking for Gojo Satoru,” you finished, teeth sinking into the plush of your bottom lip as you waited for his response. Megumi swallowed hard.

“A lot of people do.” He kept his tone steady, forced himself not to let the heat in his chest rise to his face. “What’s a Kamo doing here, looking for him?” 

Megumi had heard of you, of course. Gojo had raised him with at least a basic understanding of the three Big Families, and their prominent figures from both the past and present. The half-sister to Noritoshi Kamo, you had been held behind while your elders sent him away to the sister school in Kyoto. Women, Gojo had said, tone playful but eyes cold, are seen as nothing more than breeding stock and political pawns. They’ll probably keep her there until she’s married off. 

Something seems to settle inside you, and Megumi can’t help but watch, ensnared in the web you weave. Your hands smooth over the creases in your kimono as you exhaled, shoulders rounding back. Even covered in grime you radiated elegance, though you were betrayed by the still-skittish look in your eyes. “I’m here to make a deal with him.” 

A few days after the four of you had returned from your assignment in Kawasaki, you realized that Megumi was behaving rather oddly. 

At first, he seemed moody. Tired, you assumed. With promotions coming up, Gojo-sensei had been training the four of you even more rigorously than usual. Your mornings were filled with research, analyzing the few texts that Jujutsu Tech had recovered on cursed techniques that were even remotely similar to your own. The evenings were spent sparring, with thick dust kicked up under the lukewarm breeze, and the faint howls of Megumi’s shikigami in the distance. 

Sighing, you squat down, calling softly into the woods until one of his Divine Dogs trot out, tongue lolling out happily. You can’t help the wistful smile that tugs at your lips as you run your fingers through soft, black fur. They’d taken a liking to you, after you started carrying a few dog treats in your gear to give to them. Megumi had always complained that you spoiled them, babied them too much. You couldn’t help it. You loved his shikigami dearly. 

What did that say about you? The thought makes you lightheaded for a moment. The heat, you think, a bit desperate. It was all the heat. 

“You’re late.” 

You tilt your head backwards, startling at how close he’d gotten to you. He’s dressed for the summer heat, ditching his uniform for something more practical. Linen pants brush by you as he reaches your side, and your heart seems to convulse when you realize you can see the slight ripple of muscle under the fabric of his shirt.  Heat flares in your cheeks and you look away. Stormy eyes study you, a flicker of something predatory passing through them before he turns to his shikigami. 

“And you. Stop running off like that.” 

The Divine Dog whines, and you crinkle your nose, turning back to meet his gaze. “I was calling for it because I couldn’t find you. You weren’t where we normally spar.” 

“Gojo wanted us to use the other fields.” 

“Fine, fine.” Petulant, you reach for his wrist, hoisting yourself up off the ground. Before you can even speak, he’s tearing it from your grasp as though you’ve burnt him. “Hurry up. We’re losing light.” 

You follow after him quietly, ignoring the sting in your hand from the phantom contact. He’s probably overwhelmed with the work we’ve been doing, you remind yourself, yet you can’t help the slight feeling of dread that runs up your spine. His dog noses at your palm, whining softly, as thought it can sense your distress. Its owner however seems none the wiser. 

“Why did you want to spar today? Didn’t Gojo-sensei say we could take today off?”  

“The next mission is the one that the higher-ups are sending us on to see if we should be recommended for a higher grade. That means it’s going to be more dangerous than usual.” 

The trees clear to reveal a clearing, grass matted down from hours of sparring. “I hate when you’re right.” 

Megumi spares you a sharp glance but says nothing else. “Warm up quickly. I want to be back before it gets dark.” 

You stretch out under the waning light, letting your technique run through your body for a few moments. Cheating, Yuuji would insist, but you would be lying if you said you weren’t eager for a fight. The upcoming mission loomed over you, anxiety building as you thought about the uncertainties of it all. You hadn’t trusted the higher-ups from the beginning, and you especially didn’t trust them in any circumstance where Itadori Yuuji’s life was at risk. You exhale, feeling the familiar buzz of your cursed energy flow as you move. “Okay. I’m ready.” 

Sparring with Megumi feels like a dance, more than anything else. He was your partner long before Yuuji and Nobara had even transferred to Tokyo, and your body has been trained to move as seamlessly with him as possible. Every step forward he takes you step back, and with each swing of the staff, your katana rises up to meet up. You lose yourself in it for a moment, watching the way his jaw clenches in concentration, eyebrows furrowed as you narrowly avoid a pointed elbow. A sharp jab of your blade, and Megumi is suddenly right in front of you. The air leaves your lungs in his presence taking in the scent of his laundry detergent and the slightest tinge of the soap he uses. He takes advantage of your distraction to disarm you, flipping you neatly into a hold. 

“Yield,” he says, pressing his knee down into your stomach a little more firmly. You try your best to ignore the sight of him kneeled between your legs as you try to kick out from under him. His eyes darken at the sight of you, pinned and struggling to free yourself. 

“Yield,” he says, once more, and you do, letting your body rest against the ground as you stare up at him. There’s a bead of sweat trickling down his temple, the veins of his slender hands raised as he holds his staff. You let your hand curl against the wood of it, feeling the pressure of it resting on your throat. 

“I yield,” you say, and in that moment you know that you have. Fushiguro Megumi has stolen your heart from the day you met him. I’d give you everything, you realize, as Megumi helps you to your feet. There are 35 trillion blood cells in the human body, and every single one of them runs for you. You let your fingers intertwine with his for the briefest moment before forcing yourself to pull away. I would do anything to have you. My greatest sin and my holiest salvation wrapped into a single body. 

“That was a good fight,” he tells you, taking your silence for sulking. Maybe I wanted to lose. Maybe I did want to fall for you. Would that be such a sin? 

“Thanks,” is your stilted answer, the setting sun sealing your fate. You’re in love with Fushiguro Megumi. And you don’t quite know what to do about it. 

The mission is simple enough, until it isn’t. An abandoned hospital, Ijitchi had said in the car ride over. Residual curses had been spotted clinging to the interior, feeding off of an unknown source within. Intel had suggested that it was a Grade 2 spirit at most. You watch as Nobara takes a bit too much pleasure in nailing the swarms of weak curses that had greeted you at the entrance, Yuuji laughing at how easily his fists send them to a rather unpleasant demise. Yet, you can’t shake the feeling of unease that settles over you. This is too easy for a promotion mission. What were they hiding? 

Then Megumi opens the doors to what would’ve been the emergency room, and all hell breaks loose. 

Bloodstains, bright red, catch your eye first. They’re splattered all over the room, on the floor, curtains, and on the hospital sheets yellowed with age. You see the bones next. Human; skulls, ribcages, femurs, all picked clean and white enough to shine under the fluorescent lighting. The light flickers. A tumorous mass sits in the center of the room, a conglomeration of hair, teeth, and eyes that blink slowly at you. Your spine stiffens, and immediately, you pull Megumi towards you as a ropelike strand of hair tightens around the spot where he was standing. 

Those fuckers. A Semi-Grade 1? 

“Megumi,” is all you can make out. In the hallway, you can hear something more menacing, something equally as terrible as what sits in the room inside with you. You can hear Nobara’s cry of pain as a nauseating crack rips through the air. They won’t survive without him. “I’m sorry.” 

His eyes widen in understanding a fraction too late as you gather all your energy and shove him back out into the corridor as the curse flings a file cabinet at you. It crashes into the door, and you can hear Megumi calling your name with something that sounds like desperation. The hinges rattle as he throws his weight against it, but the cabinet holds firm. When you turn to face the curse in front of you, the look in its eyes is amused as you draw your blade. A cavernous maw opens, splitting it down the center as misshapen lumps of flesh spill out. Smaller curses, remnants of the innocents it had lured and devoured. A sudden chill goes through your body. 

This isn’t a Semi-Grade. This is a full-fledged Grade 1. 

There’s something vicious in the way you move, tearing through cursed spirits as though they’re paper. Ichor stains the ground around you, as red as the blood you channel through your veins. Dimly, you think you’re screaming. It was a set up, you think desperately. Of course the higher-ups would try to kill Itadori Yuuji at any cost. They didn’t give a fuck about you, or Nobara, or Megumi. Fury fills the cavern of your chest as you lunge for the hulking Grade 1, as it grotesquely pushes out the corpse of one of its victims into something far more sinister. You rip it to shreds without a second thought. 

The sound of steel on flesh makes the hair of your arms rise as you finally manage to cut a nasty gash into the misshapen curse in front of you. It howls in pain, tendrils reaching for your body as you leap away. Instead, the tendrils open the serrated wound a bit further, opening a new pocket for its children to crawl out of. That was the first blow you’d been able to land; ten minutes have passed since you trapped yourself inside a room with it. Will you make it out alive? You shake the thought away angrily.

Gritting your teeth, you increase your blood flow, shooting it down to your legs and the fibers of your muscles. Your blade shines as it cuts down curses, the Grade 1 merely watching with a demeanor that you can only describe as bored. It’s toying with you, you realize, but what pricks your heart isn’t fear, but resignation. Your foot catches on the rubble for only a moment, and the Grade 1 moves, slamming you into the wall with enough force for you to feel your ribs shatter. Blood fills your mouth and you choke, lungs heaving. Punctured, your technique tells you, a liter gone. The air tastes like iron and salt, and you realize with a start that you’re dying. 

You feel oddly calm as the world spins, watching as the ropes of hair approach your prone body. The last thing you see is the door shattering open, and the look in Megumi’s eyes as he sees you. There’s terror in his normally stoic expression, his arm outstretched towards you as Nue dives for you. Nobara and Yuuji are moving, but all you can see is him. His hands are bloodied at the fingertips, as though he’d been clawing at the door with his own hands to pry it open, his lips moving soundlessly. There’s a dull ringing in your ears, the toll of death that signals your end. His hand cups your face, and you allow yourself to lean into it for a moment, reveling in the touch. I could die like this, is your final thought as you succumb to your injuries. I’m happy that you’re holding me, Megumi.

The world around you feels muted, when you finally awaken. Your vision is blurred as you peel your eyelids back, and you wince at the sensation. How long have you been out for? Slowly, the blurred tinges of light start to focus. A lamp, dimly lit to your right on the nightstand next to a pitcher of water and an empty cup. A punctured lung, a liter gone. Your hand drifts to the bandages that wrap your chest, carefully letting your cursed technique scan your body. A few lacerations, but for the most part you were fine. Crisp sheets rustle as you sit up, examining your surroundings. The hospital in the infirmary. Somehow, they managed to bring you back. 

Megumi’s eyes, so desperate and lost as his hand reached for you. 

You try not to think about it, as you carefully test your body. Your limbs ache, but that’s to be expected. Your hair has been neatly pulled away from your face; Nobara’s work, no doubt. Her screams from behind the door, the dread in your chest when you realized they might not survive without Megumi. You watch your fingers shake as you reach for the water, letting it soothe away the pain in your throat. Did she even make it? Did they live? 

The door opens, startling you from your thoughts. Megumi stands in the doorway, hand pushing through his hair. You take a moment to examine him, noting the dark circles under his pale skin, and how his long hair seemed mussed. His eyes scan the room, passing over you before focusing on you with startling clarity. 

“You’re awake.” 

Hesitantly, you nod, as he drops into the seat beside you. “Did…did they…”

He cuts you off before you can even finish your sentence. “Kugisaki and Itadori are fine.” 

You stare down at your hands, letting the silence wash over you. Yet, you’re dimly aware of how suffocating it feels, how your shoulders were unable to relax even with the knowledge that your friends were alive and safe. Megumi continues to watch you, but before you can say something, anything,  his voice fills the air, terse and clipped. 

“What the fuck were you thinking?” 

Startled, your eyes meet his. “What?” 

“Did you think I was too weak? That I couldn’t handle it just because you’ve been a Grade 2 longer than I have?” The eyes that normally watched you with a hint of affectionate exasperation were cold, and hard. “You behaved recklessly. Did you even think about how it impacted the rest of us? Because of you, Kugisaki broke her leg, and Itadori almost had his arm cleaved off. You did all of that just for the rest of us to find you half dead in a puddle of your own bones and blood.” 

“Stop it,” you whisper, but Megumi’s voice only twists into something far more cruel. “You thought you were being so brave, sacrificing yourself, only to realize that you weren’t that special. You couldn’t even take down that Grade 1 alone. Kugisaki had to save you, even as she was practically screaming from the pain.” 

“Megumi,” you whisper, and he pauses, clearly unused to his name falling from your lips. “Why are you so angry at me?” Your voice breaks ever so slightly and you bite your lip hard enough to taste blood, ashamed at the wetness in your eyes. “Where is this coming from? I don’t understa-” 

He slams his palm against the wooden surface of your bedside table, rattling the drawers. “Are you really that stupid to ask what you did wrong? You fucked up. I thought you were different, but in reality, you’re no better than the rest of your clan, are you? You’re just another filthy Kamo.” 

Your hands shake as you twist them into the off-white infirmary sheets. “What are you talking about?” 

Megumi laughs, but it’s jaded, sharp. “Congratulations. You’re being promoted to a Semi-Grade 1, all because of your little stunt that landed the rest of us into hospital beds. Even though we all had to help you finish it off, they’re only choosing you. I wonder why.” 

“Megumi.” Your voice rises, as your heart finally shatters. “I did it because I thought you would die, you know that. I don’t give a fuck about the politics of the higher ups, or my clan, or even my grade. I just wanted to protect you all. You know that.” 

He rises from the chair next to your side, expression indifferent to the tears that are rolling down your cheeks. “As if I’d believe you.” 

“Megumi,” you call out, desperately, as he walks away. “Megumi!” 

He doesn’t look back, and you’re left alone in the dark with only the moon to bear company as you sob. I don’t understand, you think, deliriously. Can’t you see that I love you? Can’t you see I’d rather die than watch you break in front of me? 

Megumi barely makes it to the lawn before he retches into the bushes. Bile rises in his throat and he squeezes his eyes shut as he replays the moment over and over and over again. For five days, he’d held vigil at your bed. For five days, he realized that your love for him would get you killed. For five days, he’d wrapped his heart in iron, knowing that what he was about to do would break the both of you. I would’ve only gotten you killed, he thinks, numbly. It’s what landed you here in the first place. 

Yet, Megumi can’t stop recalling the exact moment the relief in your eyes had turned into betrayal, how your lips had trembled and your hands shook. Your voice, desperate and pleading, calling his name as he forced his legs to walk away from you. How he can hear your sobs faintly trailing from the windows above, matching the tears that are trailing down his cheeks. 

You’ll hate him forever, he thinks, dazed, as he forces himself onto his feet. You’ll hate him forever, and by god it’ll be the most painful thing he’s ever experienced, but as long as you’re alive he can bear it. As long as he never has to see you there again, laying in a heap of your own blood, eyes dazed and unseeing, he will carry the sins that it takes to keep you alive and away from him. 

I love you. I love you, and I’m sorry that someone like me ever fell for someone like you. I love you so much that the thought of being without me tears me to shreds. I love how you take care of my shikigami like they're your own. I love how every touch you give me heals something that I didn't know I was missing. I love you, and I need you to live more than I need air to breathe.

I love you, and even though I don't think you'll ever forgive me, I'll always follow wherever you go.

[syd-djarin]

private eyes - jack daniels x private investigator!f!reader (18+ MDNI)

this is for @iamasaddie little lady kinky may challenge! congrats on 2.5k! <333 I was paired with Jack / Voyeurism.

banner by: @cafekitsune

tags: voyeurism (reader watches jack), masturbation (m & f), reader is a private investigator, gratuitous descriptions of my fav cowboy stroking his big cock, dub-con a little? reader masturbates in her car but there isn't anyone around so public but private

a/n: this is the first fic I've completed in months. it's short and to the point, idk how i feel about it but it pushed me out of my writing slump! kinda want to do a part 2 for this, what do y'all think 👀

wc: ~1.6k

smut below the cut

 “I want you to catch that son of a bitch in the act.”

The visibly scorned woman, Camilla, sitting across from you asks through tears, ones that she hasn’t allowed to escape down her cheeks; catching them right at the waterline with an overused tissue.

This isn’t the first time a disgruntled, mistreated, or betrayed lover has sought out your services — no shortage of shitty men leaving trails of destruction while they pillage and greedily chase their own interests. She’s no different, seeking closure from the broken-off engagement from her now ex-fiancée, Jack Daniels. The pair had been together for a year, engaged for three months and one day, out of the blue, Jack broke it off. According to her, he didn’t give a concrete reason, something vague about being consumed with his job and that “she deserved a better life than that”. 

Of course you get paid a pretty penny for your work, but you take great pleasure in catching a man in the act. Whether the woman needs proof for divorce settlements, custody battles, or to just have leverage. Whatever the case may be, you find a gratification you don’t get anywhere else; the upheaval of a man trying to have his cake and eat it too. 

The conventionally attractive woman you couldn’t pick out of a line-up slides her homemade dossier across the coffee shop table, tacky & sticky from previous patrons. You flip through the information presented to you, taking mental notes as you go. You can’t deny the heat that rises up your face as you study the picture of your next target. The deep sable eyes resembling a baby calf’s are staring at you through the glossy photo paper. He’s sporting a mustache reminiscent of Burt Reynolds that is calling your name. His smirk is laced with a charming cockiness. 

“He’s quite the looker, I know. Hell of a lay, too,” her words snap you out of your daydream. Her words feel hollow, his looks are the only attributes she’s mentioned during the duration of the consultation. You're not getting paid for moral judgements and you remind yourself you don’t know the whole story. 

“Which is why I want to know who he’s fucking. I know there’s another woman, or maybe even a guy… he’d answer calls in the middle of the night and step into another room and I swear I could hear a woman’s voice on the other end, he’d tell me he’s going on work trips… he works at a whiskey distillery, why the hell does he need to go on all these trips?” She explains, putting air quotes around ‘trips’ with her dainty, well-manicured hands, “he’d stay late at work a few nights a week, and then it turned into a nightly thing… Anyways, you come highly recommended, so I’m trusting you won’t let me down,” she adds. You’re not a fan of the passive aggressive, back-handed compliment she gives you, but ultimately you give her an understanding smile as you both rise from the table. 

“I’ll be in touch,” you tell her, as you exit. As cliche as that line is, you love saying it every time. 

Days of following Jack around have proven to be fruitless. The man has a simple routine: wakes up at six, traipses to the bathroom to begin his morning regimen of a showering, shaving and grooming his beloved mustache, and to conclude,  adorns his body in his tight denim jeans, a crisp button-down, a cowboy hat, and boots to match. You hate to admit it, and someone would have to waterboard this information out of you, but the hat is doing something for him. 

Or you. 

Whatever. 

He shops weekly on Wednesdays (he always puts the cart back inside the store, not the cart returns in the parking lot), takes the same route home everyday, watches Jeopardy while he eats dinner – you caught on quickly that he cooks during Wheel of Fortune, it appears he isn’t a big fan of Pat and Vanna, dishes promptly following Final Jeopardy and bed by nine. In three weeks Jack hasn’t had a single visitor, of any gender, leaves work at five like everyone else, the man isn’t adding up to be a cheating womanizer like Camilla had set him out to be. Not to say that he isn’t, but you’re not finding any evidence to support that claim. You’ve actually found yourself developing a crush on the man. He’s undoubtedly handsome, seemingly laid back despite his strict routine, and there’s something mysterious that lies beneath that you’re itching to unearth.

You’re parked discreetly across the street from his house. It’s a nice quiet street, with only two lamps to illuminate the surrounding neighborhoods, allowing you to stay shrouded in the night. 

You’re about to call it a night, exhaustion settling deep into your bones, when you notice a lamp turned on in the living room. Fortunately, the window faces the street, making your job that much easier for you. You pick up your binoculars to peer in, adjusting the focus for your prying eyes. Thank the universe he left his blinds open. 

He sits on the couch with his back facing you. It looks like he’s reaching for the remote, like maybe he’s having trouble sleeping, but when he settles back into the couch, you notice he’s butt ass naked, in all his glory. Even through the binoculars, you can see how big his cock is. Your mouth salivates at the sight, wanting to feel the stretch of him in all your holes. 

You’re not supposed to see this. Not at all. Usually in your assignments, you don’t get the full X-rated view, just the PG-13 suggestive one, and you are more than grateful for that. 

But not now.

You’re getting your own private peep show from the man you’re getting paid to spy on. You’re feeling like a grade-A pervert right about now but the sight is too glorious to look away. He spits on his hand, and languidly begins stroking his cock. He runs his other hand through his hair, his toned arms flexing with his movements, his chest heaving. 

It shouldn’t turn you on like it does. For one, it’s highly unprofessional. Secondly, he’s unaware he’s got an audience. Morally speaking, it’s definitely not your shining moment. But it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen, watching him tease and work himself up. You couldn’t pry your eyes away if you wanted to. 

Jack’s not the only one getting worked up; your clit throbs so hard you feel like it’ll go numb. Your heartbeat echoes in your ears thump-thump thump-thump. You let out a whine when Jack massages his tip, precum dribbling out like a sweet nectar you’d like to feast on. He continues his slow movements, dragging out his pleasure at a delicious and excruciating pace. Somehow, this makes the whole scene that much hotter; the display of restraint and discipline. You wonder if he does that with his lovers. Teasing, teasing, teasing, giving just enough to drive you insane before slowing almost to a stop. 

Possessed by desire, you haphazardly look for any lingering people outside before unbuttoning your pants to shove your hand to where it's needed most. You gasp at the cool air hitting your thinly clothed pussy, you can smell your own arousal seeped into your panties and it spurs you on further. You mirror Jack’s pace - teasing your lips with a featherlight touch, inching closer and closer to your needy clit, stopping just shy of it, to tease yourself more. It’s agonizing in the best way, taking your time like this. Normally, you like efficiency when making yourself come, rarely going the extra mile to turn the pleasure dial up, but this makes you question why you’re ever in a hurry. 

You reach your clit, going in gentle circles to match Jack’s unhurried pace. You wish you could hear the sounds he’s making, all the grunts and whimpers escaping his plush lips. 

He speeds up his strokes, now ravenous for his delayed release and so are you. Overtaken by the need to come, you drop the binoculars, letting them fall to the floorboard. You’re not even watching him anymore, having seen more than enough to commit to your spank bank. With your eyes closed and head pushing into the headrest, your mind is flooded with images of Jack fucking you slow, hard and deep, absolutely destroying your pussy – legs over his shoulders, hitting the spot that makes you scream and cry in euphoria. The image of him spilling into you, filling you up with his come is what tips you over the edge, your body shivers in bliss and you rock against your hand to ride out the high, feeling faint from the intensity. 

After you’ve recovered and fumbled your chance of ever seeing The Pearly Gates, you dare to look back to his house, to find all the lights back off. It’s a bit of a relief, feeling less shameful of what you’ve done now that you can’t see him at the moment. 

You button your pants backup and lean over to retrieve the forgotten binoculars from the floorboard, as your fingers grab them you hear a knock on the window. The sudden rap on the glass makes you flinch, feeling your skeleton attempt to flee from your corporeal body. Your heart drops to your stomach when you see Jack standing outside your car, leaning one forearm against the body so his face is level with yours. Fuck fuck fuck. You’ve been caught. Dizziness and nausea war within you as you roll down the window. You open your mouth to explain the situation, but words never escape your mouth. 

“You like watchin’ people don’t ya?” he asks, his tone is dark, but not angry. No, it’s something else entirely. 

“I–”

“‘S’alright. Caught onto ya pretty quick. A pretty face like yours ain’t hard to miss.”

“I– i’m sorry, um,” you scramble to find words, any words but Jack interjects again. 

“You like watchin’, but darlin’ I want to know, do ya like bein’ watched?”

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

i would love to see some headcanons on how the sleep token boys would take someone’s virginity 🫠🫠 🩷

Hmm…. let’s put our thinking hats on… I got so carried away. And what for?😂 once again sedate me. I can’t be left without supervision when it comes to them.

Vessel

He oozes intimacy. And would make a big deal out of it. Would definitely get offended if you didn’t share this with him. It’s not the tacky oh my god let me get you a banner that says I just popped your cherry good sort of thing. But he would want to know what you’re comfortable with and what makes you unsure. You are in control of the pace of your intimate life.

You want to make out on the couch while grinding on him? Go for it. He lets you do whatever you want. Start to feel unsure once Vess hooks his finger over your thong. That’s okay too. He would stop. He reads you like a book so hiding your emotions would be impossible. As much as he enjoys sex it’s not the center of his world and he is willing to wait.

Oh, he would love exploring sex with you. If you’re comfortable enough to invite him to bed while you try different toys and things. He is there and he is having a blast just from watching your back arch as you bring yourself closer and closer to the edge. Foreplay was invented by this man I am sure of it. So the moment you let him take care of you. He is like a man starved eating you out almost daily. We all know the size of his hands. So do I need to tell you that even getting used the size of his fingers would be a challenge. “Do you think you can take one more, hm? Should we try two tonight”. Any insecurity you might have he’s shutting down before it can even fully form.

Hand on the heart, I don’t think you would be able to take him all during your first time. But he’s there to praise you all through it, “Look how good you’re doing. Stretching around me like a good girl that you are”, “Almost hallway baby, can you take more mmm? Of course you can. Relax your muscles for me, baby”, it’s blinding pleasure for him too. So trying not to cum after only a couple of minutes is a challenge he would be forced to face.

Kissing your tears away while the initial burning is the strongest. Eyes on you the whole time. Well, besides occasional peaking between you two to see how he disappears between your folds. It’s nothing insane or hardcore. It is the purest form of lovemaking. You have plenty of time to explore rough sex after that. Plus all he wants is to show you love. Worship you. Please you. Get YOU to cum, 'cause he knows how rare it is during the first time especially.

II

He would find out right after you two had sex. I don’t know why that’s what popped into my head first but I low-key see him coming back from tour. You two haven’t seen each other for so long and since the relationship is still fresh the longing is insanely high. And even if he tries to play it down, he’s desperate to have you in his arms.

So it’s the heat of the moment. You’re pulling him into you the moment he steps through your apartment door. Crashing your lips against his. Then it’s a whole mess of hands roaming around each other’s bodies. Pulling his shirt over his head. And then it’s a whole mess of “I missed you so fucking much, babes”, and “Let me fucking see you”, as his eyes soak in your lacy bra before he’s leaning in to kiss your breasts. Nibbling at your skin as he goes.

Your face is in the crook of II’s neck when you finally sink onto his length. So he doesn’t get to see your scrunched-up face and the way you bite your lip as you stretch around him. Man is in a bliss of his own. “So tight, fuck me, so good”, and “Give me a moment or I will bust in two thrusts, shit”. Little does he know that you need that moment too. To get used to the unfamiliar feeling. The aching fulness of him.

Then his hands are on your hips as he guides your hips down. And once you give up the control of your thrusts to him fully, the movements are far from gentle and slow. “so fucking good baby, taking me so good”, and at this point you’re just holding onto his shoulder, nails digging into his tattooed back as II brings you both over the edge. He cums inside and stays buried deep for a while, just holding you wrapped up in his arms as you both slowly catch your breath.

Only when he slowly guides you to lay down and pulls himself out off you does he halt. The slight tinge of red, making alarm bells ring in his head. “Was I too rough?”, his eyebrows are knitted together as he reaches for the tissues to clean you up first. Assisting the possible damage. You slowly shook your head, “It was my first time”. His movements halt as he lifts his head to meet your eyes, “Please tell me that you’re fucking joking?”, “I didn’t want you to be weirded out so… It’s not a big deal for me”, you reach out to him but he just shakes his head.

“I just fucked you on the sofa, not even in a bed. I didn’t even stop before I… Baby…”, he lets out a frustrated growl as he leans over you cupping your cheek, “I would have never done it like that if I knew, you should have said something”. You feel your eyes sting slightly, “Are you mad at me?” I kiss your lips slowly, “I’m mad at myself for not noticing and for not asking, for not double checking”.

So he would plan the next time. It’s no longer your first time. But he would take his time. Slowly getting your body ready for him. Making sure you cum at least twice before he would slowly thrust into you. Watching your face the whole time.

III

He would get feral over something like this. To be the first? The first man to fuck you? That alone might make him get harder than he had ever been. He doesn’t do slow and gentle so holding back would be hard for him. But a no is still a no and he would not break your boundaries. Similar to Vessy I think he would be more than down to enjoy oral sex before you genuinely feel ready.

And it wouldn’t be anything fancy. Maybe a movie marathon and you are lying on his chest. It’s completely silent just the movie playing in the background when you mutter, “I feel like I want to have sex with you”, you would feel him stiffen beneath you before he pushes his head to the side so he can see your face, “You want me to finger you or eat you out, bubs?” You’re pushing away from him, slowly sitting up, “No, like to have sex sex”.

Iii swallows slowly, “Don’t mess with me babes, 'cause I’m rocking some serious blue balls and I don’t know if…”, but you’re cutting him off with a kiss. Guiding his hand beneath your shirt. And he doesn’t need to be told twice. His hands are massaging your breast, pinching your nipples in record time.

He’s catching your wrist when you move to palm him through his sweatpants. “Love the feeling of that but I will embarrass myself if you keep it up”. It’s a sea of foreplay that comes next because he’s also sporting a whole weapon down there too. And he’s so cocky about it, “Let me get you nice and wet baby, it’ll make it easier for you to take me whole”.

The initial thrusts are slow and patient, he’s reaching out to hold your hand, intertwining both of your fingers together. He wants to feel you holding onto him. It’s his way of anchoring you through the pain and discomfort. One more way for him to know if he can move or not, besides your words. He’s not wasting his time while he lets you take a moment to settle with the feeling of him. He’s kissing you breathlessly, hands going between rubbing your clit to palming your thighs.

It’s nowhere near slow after that but that’s once again agreed on mutual parts. And towards the very end, he’s turning you both around, letting you be on top. “It’s your first time, take it, baby, get your first release”. And he’s completely lost at the sight of you, bouncing on his dick, lip between your teeth. Helping you chase the high, moving you up and down once your vision blanks with pleasure.

IV

I feel like IV would share III's pride of being the first man for you. Lord forgive me but I genuinely see him fucking just the inside of your underwear. Rubbing between your folds. And it’s simply because he can’t help himself and you’re there on his bed looking like a vision in that red thong. How could he not? So it’s an “I won’t thrust into you, just let me rub against you”, “Been so fucking hard, baby, help me out”.

And you mess around like that so much because you two aren’t even in a relationship. It’s complicated with IVy. He’s shit with his words but his actions tells a completely different story. And it would be during one of the nights when he’s sneaking into your room. Grinding against you as he kisses you stupid. And you’re tumbling into bed.

“Just the tip, I promise”, he’s grunting against your ear. But you can tell that he’s way past that. While he’s pretty reserved with touching, his hands are all over you tonight. So it’s you who takes the lead here. Wrapping your legs around him. Nails sinking into his ass right as he positions himself against your entrance. The growl that escalates his lips as he slides in is primal.

“Playing with fire”, iv growls, reaching to kiss your neck, “How do you expect me to pull out now, hm?”, “I don’t”, you mutter. He halts, pulling away to look at you. “No, Y/N, don’t give it away just like that. I’m not worth it”. But you just crash your lips against his, trying to pour out all the emotions through it. “Guess you’ll just have to wine and dine me from now on”, iv chuckle at your words. “You sure, baby?”, he’s looking at you, “Use your words, baby, need to hear you say it”.

He’s kissing you through the first couple of thrusts. Lust-filled eyes watch your eyes roll back as the pleasure finally takes over. He’s hitching your thighs further open for him. His thrusts are lethal and strong. First time or not he’s claiming you as his. The same way you open yourself up to him, he’s opening himself up to you. No more careless messing around. He’s willing to try and commit. To give serious relationships a go.

[sweetandsavageautistic]

(CW: Cringe, Autism Parents stuff, drunk mention, infantilization)

So I don't have a degree in Graphic Design, but I do have a sense of general aesthetic. I figured that it's April. Let's rate, and potentially verbally tear apart and drag through the mud, some autism shirts and graphic designs, and I'll probably do a part 2, these scores are only semi-arbitrary: First up is this:

Already off the top, I am confusion because it seems to read "I wear puzzle cousin autism awareness". Sounds like whoever made this was drunk.

Puzzle pieces, ew.

The red, yellow, green, and blue look like the shades you'd see in elementary school, so that seems pretty infantilizing.

Autism Awareness, I am very much aware of my existence.

Final Score: 0 out of 10. Designer, go home; you're drunk.

Next we have this:

This one already has a slight advantage over the first because it's at least coherent in terms of the message.

Elementary school colors, but make it extra tacky.

Puzzle pieces; don't try to bullshit me by putting the autism awareness banner over it, I can see the other indents that make them puzzle pieces.

Once again, I am well aware of my own existence.

At least it's a smaller design.

Final Score: 0.5 out of 10, and that's being generous.

Next one's not a shirt, but it still counts:

No blue so thank God for that.

This is up to personal preference, but to me, the person-first language is giving "I need to be reminded that someone is a person."

Puzzle pieces. Ew. Don't BS me, I can see them.

Walk down Autism Lane. (it's right below the word LOVE) Sorry, but we don't allow ableists on Autism Lane; you need to be a premium member and to be a premium member, you need to not be a dick.

The pumpkin disturbs me for some reason, and not in the Halloween way; I mean, it just straight-up disturbs me.

Final Score: 0.5 out of 10. Bury it in a shallow grave.

Just found this one:

It's easy on the eyes at least.

No tacky elementary school colors.

No puzzle pieces.

The bunny's cute, but this also seems very infantilizing.

Person first language is a no for me.

Why are all of the is lowercase, but the others are uppercase?

Final Score: 5 out of 10. Not great, but not terrible.

Here we have simple:

Elementary school colors, but credit where credit's due; it's not terrible on the eyes.

Why is blessed on there three times?

One big-ass puzzle piece.

"Autism blesses" Yes, because being bullied by my peers, being indirectly told who I am is wrong, having the worst time making friends, always feeling like I'm never truly part of a friend group, being confused when some adults got mad at me, not having anyone to play with at 4 years old is an absolute fucking blessing. /s And that's the tip of the iceberg.

"Fun", "Sweet", "Cute".....it's the infantilization for me.

Final Score: 3 out of 10. No further elaboration.

Then there's this monstrosity:

I call this color Patronizing Paraprofessional Blue, aka the tackiest shade of blue ever.

It looks like something one of those older white suburban millennial moms would wear. Like something a Karen would wear to one of those autism walks or one of those social skills teachers who talk in that slowed-down patronizing kindergarten teacher tone with that fake-ass smile, no matter how old you are. You know the one I'm talking about, right? Yeah, they'd wear this.

Puzzle piece. Light It Up Blue. Ew.

We all know what organization this supports.

Final Score: -10 out of 10. Burn it.

Let's get in a good one to counter that abomination of a shirt and end part one on a higher note:

Nice simple design with a black background.

No tacky elementary school colors.

Identity-first language.

Really counters the....what the fuck would it be called? The UwU autism parent thing? ("I am his voice, he is my heart," "See the able, not the label," etc,.) It counters that.

The light sparkle around "a bitch" is chef's kiss.

Final Score: 11 out of 10. Perfection.

[strawberryspence]

happy birthday, @stevesbipanic! i am glad you were born, you amazing human being. I hope you get to drink the coldest, most delicious, bougiest milo you can have. ILY broccoli! 💛

-

Steve has never had a birthday cake. He doesn't count the first six cakes his parents had for him, because he's pretty sure it was only for appearances.

He remembers his seventh birthday. How badly he wanted to have a Flintstones themed birthday party, and how his parents called it tacky. Instead, Steve had a lavish tea party with all of their investor friends. He remembers hating it.

After that, there's— nothing. There were Nannies or Babysitters that tried to make him feel better by bringing him to Benny's and he's thankful for that. But there's always that heart wrenching rip in his system when he sees a child. Surrounded by family, singing happy birthday as they wait to blow on a cake.

And the thing is if Steve never gets to have that, it’s okay. It’s really, really, really, okay. That also means he’ll do his best to give all the kids the best birthdays they can have, so they can never feel what he felt. If El wants a day just full of craft making? Sure. Dustin wants to visit this damn planetarium in Indianapolis? Okay. Mike wants to dress him like him for an entire day? Alright.

Steve is happy that way, until Eddie Munson comes crashing into his life with a broken bottle. And okay, maybe it’s not a great idea to lie in the biggest and probably the most important relationship he has right now, but he’s not going to tell Eddie his little sad secret.

What he forgot to account for is the fact that his boyfriend is the biggest snoop to ever exist.

“Wha— What’s this?” Steve stammers as he enters his house. It’s almost always dark when he comes home, the house dull and empty.

Tonight, it’s different. After having his birthday dinner with Robin, Steve drives them back to his house so they can have movie night. Supposedly.

Instead, Eddie’s standing behind the long wooden dining table that never gets used, with 20 different cupcakes, all lit with a candle. There’s food and banners and balloons with streamers.

Robin pushes him forward with a smile, “So…” Eddie walks towards him, “I found some of your childhood pictures.”

“Oh.” Steve breathes out.

“Look, maybe I am wrong. Maybe I got it all wrong. Maybe your parents just weren’t the kind of people that liked taking pictures and having to develop them. Maybe someday, you’ll tell me why you only have one childhood photo album or why there’s no pictures of your birthday parties past the age of six.”

Eddie says, hands nervously twisting around his hair, “But, on the off chance that I am right,” He shakes his head in disbelief, “On the off chance that you haven’t had a birthday cake or a birthday wish in 14 years, I got you 20 birthday cupcakes.”

Steve can barely hold himself anymore, tears threatening to spill from his eyes, “Why 20?”

Eddie smiles at him, and his eyes sparkle at Steve like he hung the damn moon and stars, like he fucking created the whole universe, “One for every year my favorite person has been alive.”

Steve chokes down a half sob, half whine as he slaps a hand on his mouth.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Eddie whispers as he wraps Steve in a comforting hug. They stay like that for a minute before Eddie says, “I am so happy you were born. There’s a few more people that are happy, they’re all hiding in the kitchen right now.”

“What?” Steve pulls back, hastily wiping his tears.

“The kids are all here. Nance, Jonathan, and Argyle.” Eddie tenderly wipes a stray tear off his cheek, “Even Wayne, Hop, Joyce, and Mrs. Henderson is here.”

Steve’s not sure if he wants to know, but he still asks, “Why?”

Eddie visibly softens, but before he can answer Robin answers for him, “Because we all love you, Dingus.”

“So, here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to sit behind the cupcakes and they’re going to come out from where they’ve been eavesdropping.” Steve laughs when Eddie emphasizes the word, and there’s a clatter in the kitchen followed by whispering, “They’re going to act normal. And we’re going to sing you a song. Okay?”

Steve smiles, nodding, “Okay.”

“Okay.” Eddie says as he runs to the kitchen and as Robin ushers him to sit in front of the cupcakes. She forces a birthday hat on his hair, and he doesn’t even argue.

They all come out from the kitchen, all smiling and wearing ridiculous birthday hats. Even Hop and Wayne are wearing them and it might actually be the funniest thing he’s ever seen. The kids have blow horns that fill the silent house with joyous sounds.

They sing him a birthday song. It’s loud and it doesn’t exactly sound good. Dustin’s trying a new other pitch and Lucas has never been a good singer. Max is drumming on the table and El has a small tambourine. Mike and Will are trying to do some kind of duet in their own little bubble. But it’s the most beautiful, harmonious sound to Steve.

And as they all urged him to make a wish, Steve is struck with awe and disbelief, a feeling of realization sparking in his veins. Steve’s got everything he’s ever wanted right in front of him. He just wants all of them to be safe and sound.

He smiles at his family, as he lets his eyelid flutter shut.

And for the first time, Steve makes a birthday wish.

-

Edit:

Steve smiles, happy and content, as everyone chitchats around him.

"Hey, Eds?" Steve calls out for his boyfriend who's busy stuffing his face with bread rolls.

"Yeam?" Eddie replies, still chewing on the bread.

"Can I have a Flintstone themed birthday next year?"

Eddie swallows his bread with water, before turning to Steve with a smile so bright it could blind him. He moves closer to give his temple a light kiss.

"You got it, sweetheart. I'll be Fred, you'll be Wilma. It will be perfect."

[syoddeye]

sy's reading recs

hi. i read a lot of fanfiction for COD and i love spreadsheets. i try to track my reads, and thought i'd make two reading rec lists. you are currently viewing the non-darkfic list. i've included blurbs from yours truly. the blurbs are short because there are a LOT of recs below the cut. now then.

beyond the read more, you are responsible for reading tags, warnings, and summaries.

pairings are indicated where applicable, although these may change or may not be established yet.

similarly fic ratings may change! again, it's your responsibility to read tags and warnings.

i've checked all the links, but if they're broken, i blame tumblr. there's enough info to find the fic if need be.

do not harass authors with "next part when" bullshit. it's tacky and i hate you.

previous lists: one, two | banner by @/cafekitsune

gaz x reader

Lavender Skies by @yeyinde

Late to the party but gd if you haven't read this, put it at the top of your list. Kebabs, back-up shoes, the feeling of someone knowing you, the pain and sublimity of being in your late 20s...Chef's kiss.

childfree!reader thoughts by @pfhwrittes

Tooth-rottingly sweet bit about finding someone with the same priorities and not being made to feel bad about it. Love it when the boys match-make a lil bit.

The Gym by @secretsynthetic

Very cute piece about meeting trainer!Gaz at a workout class. Kudos to Reader for making it through the class because I would've had to bail if Gaz perceived me for half a second. Love how observant and sweet he is in this.

Pluto by @groguspicklejar

Late to yet another party, but I got sucked in by the premise: 'vampire!Gaz is smitten with a girl who has no desire to be around his kind'. I love how the relationship progresses, the later chapters had me gigglin'. Except for that last chap. I got GOT.

ghost x reader

child free @391780

I tag it from time to time but one of my favorite things to see in fanfic is the love and intimacy of caring for someone. And that's what this is. Among my favorite oneshots I've seen shared in this fandom.

Roommate Simon by @tacticalgirlboss

Roommate Simon could go in so many directions, but I love this particular take. The slow evolution of the relationship from roommate to something else. Made me feel mushy as hell by the end.

Through Me (The Flood) by @peachesofteal

Another drop everything to read fic. Seeing Simon embrace a role he was not expecting to ever fulfill is both heartbreaking and heartwarming at the same time. Me with every installment.

soap x reader

mic work by @glossysoap

I have four words for you: Erotic audio artist Soap. Soap's hard at work (����), imagining best friend!Reader as the subject of his latest scripts. He is COMMITTED to his job. submissive Soap by @doeidawn

Dizzying. Schedule time to take a lap after reader. Something about that man begging. It needs to be studied and somehow distilled. Into what? I don't know, don't ask me, I can't think straight after re-reading this. bad reservation by @the-californicationist

I think I summed up my reaction to this in my tags: "reader's getting that michelin star dick". A prompt filled by Cali that made me giggle furiously for a smooth ten minutes after reading.

price x reader

Storm Chaser by @/the-californicationist

Save me, biker!Price...save me... Caution: You may need to lie down after reading. Truthfully, I'm terrified of motorcycles. But I would reconsider for this Price.

A Case of You by @alittleposhtoad

One of my favorite new series. A zombie apocalypse where you're hiding out on a remote island in Canada, and who finds you? Just my favorite man. Really enjoy the pieces of worldbuilding and seeing Price interact with what's left of Reader's community.

Words Like Violence by @deadbranch

BodyguardxBodyguard. Two professionals wanting one another and their jobs kind of getting in the way. Suits. Gear. Gloves. Pure catnip. An appearance from Simon that made me laugh, re-read, then rub my hands together like a raccoon.

141 x reader and other pairings

GhostGaz Week by @dragonnarrative-writes - gaz x ghost

Dragon knocked it out of the park on GhostGaz week. I love all of them, but 'afraid of the dark' and 'sweet talk' are two of my favorites.

An Offer You Won't Refuse by @lovifie - gaz x price

You know that clip of Kylo Ren screaming more? That's me, because this makes me want more GazPrice in my life. Delectable. Mean!Price and Gaz calling in a victory.

SCP!141 by @ghouljams - gen tf 141

Incredibly fun and freaky AU that I think has half of my lil circle of friends on here willing to overlook their personal safety to get at SCP-141....I may or may not be among them.

Fancy by @swordsandholly - 141 x reader

Subtle delicious morsels of worldbuilding and bleak, dystopian vibes with vampires. That should be enough to get you started. Had me at the Reba reference.

Tradie 141 by @/pfhwrittes - mix

The way I would be quickly banned from any worksite if they were real. The Tradie!verse is very, very important to me and I eat up every piece that comes out of P's big brain.

Autumn Embers by @/dragonnarrative-writes - 141 x reader

One of the most nuanced takes on the omegaverse paired with some of the hottest smut. The meta is a good place to start, imho, as it underpins the fic and bolsters the plot.

Mission Shenanigans by @kyletogaz - gazsoap x reader

Here's a taste: “You’ve got your tongue shoved in my pussy and you expect for me to be quiet?” Got it? Scurry on over for the oneshot that made me bluescreen at the end.

Service Dog Johnny by @void-my-warranty - ghoap x reader

Interesting spin on Ghoap x Reader that shows a level of intimacy between Simon x Reader (and by extension, Ghoap x Reader), that goes beyond the sex. Yes, the smut is fantastic, but the relationship dynamic hooked me.

Cool Girl x @/peachesofteal - ghoap x reader

As a former 'Cool Girl', reading this is both therapeutic and painful, and fuck me if I don't run to read every update. You will cry, laugh, tear your hair out, and enjoy it.

Fuck-ass mohawk by @sentientcave - ghoap x reader

Reader finally saying what I'm thinking. Fuck-ass mohawk. Hilarious piece. I definitely didn't finish this and think "oh dang I want Reader to be mean to ME". 👀

"romance" in the age of technology by @/pfhwrittes - soap x gaz

Let it be known that Johnny MacTavish is a giver. A good friend. So thoughtful of others. So while Gaz recovers from top surgery, obviously our Scottish saint takes it upon himself (literally?) to cheer him up. Funny and WHEW.

[nebulousbrainsoup]

romantically

SUMMARY: After your most recent subpar date, you're ready to swear off dating altogether. So, it seems, is your roommate. When you throw out a half-joking suggestion, the afternoon takes a surprising turn for the better. PAIRING: Han Jisung x gn!reader GENRE: fluff, little bit of angst bc i'm me AU/TROPE: roommates au, idiots to lovers, impulse marriage WORD COUNT: 824 TAGS/WARNINGS: not beta read RATING: G A/N: for the @cultofdionysusnet summer event, see u on the flip side! i wasn't planning on writing for this originally, but on advice from the lovely @sanjoongie, i decided there was no better way to usher in my tenure as an admin of the beautiful network she created. it's an absolute honor to be trusted with this. i have big shoes to fill <3 banners as always by my love @kwanisms masterlist | join my taglist | buy me a coffee?

You were a flurry of wrath and frustration as you burst through the door of your apartment. From his place on the couch, your roommate jumped, turning around to look at you with wide eyes.

“Didn’t go well, I take it?” Jisung questioned, a sad, understanding smile on his face.

You didn’t answer with words, instead tossing your keys onto the entryway table and kicking off your shoes, flopping next to your best friend with a drawn-out groan. He sighed heavily in solidarity, reaching out to offer you the bowl of M&Ms in his lap. You took a handful, grateful to have something sweet to begin to take your mind off of the nightmare of a date you’d just endured. 

“They wouldn’t shut up about themself,” you began, and Jisung’s nose crinkled in disgust as he reached forward for the remote, pausing the show he’d been binging before your dramatic entrance. You curled into his side as he settled back into the cushions, the bowl of chocolate slowly emptying between the two of you. “They showed up in flip flops.”

At this, Han recoiled far enough to fix you with his disgusted look head on. You nodded solemnly. “Ugh, I know it was a lunch date, but come on. You picked that nicer ramen joint up the street, right? The one we tried last week?”

“Yep,” you sighed, dropping your head back on his shoulder. “And if that wasn’t enough, they were absolutely foul to the waitstaff.” 

Jisung groaned this time, throwing his head back against the couch. “Why can’t either of us find a single good date?!”

“Maybe we’re cursed,” you offered, sighing dejectedly. “Yours didn’t go well either?”

He shook his head. “They spent the entire time texting their ex. Even asked me for my opinion on a few of the responses.” 

It was your turn to turn your nose up. “Tacky. Was the coffee at least good?”

Han shrugged, making a non-committal noise. “Not worth the price.”

You hummed, nodding your understanding, and fell into an amicable silence. It wasn’t long before the bowl between you was empty, and your roommate let out a dejected sigh as he pushed himself up to refill it.

“What if we just marry each other instead?” You mused, eyes glued to the ceiling. In the kitchen, a loud clatter rang out, and you peeked over your shoulder, concerned. “Sungie?”

“‘M fine!” He squeaked, and you frowned just slightly, bile rising in your throat as a piece of your heart shattered. 

“If you find me that repulsive, just say so,” you called, “don’t take it out on the dishes!” Swallowing down your shame, you reached for your favorite blanket, wrapping it around yourself as a small form of comfort. You regretted the half-joking offer already, your ever-present crush on your roommate sharpening the sting of what you were sure would be his rejection.

He came back into view looking a little disheveled, hair fluffed up like he’d run his hands through it and cheeks tinted pink. The pout he wore made for a visual combination you couldn’t help but giggle at.

“I do not find you repulsive. You’re one of the sweetest humans on this planet and I won’t stand for you talking about yourself like that.” 

It was your turn to flush, his earnest expression making your heart skip a beat or two. You gaped at him for a moment, floundering for words.

“Are you serious about getting married?”

You nearly shook your head, taking the offer back with one simple motion, but the guilt of lying to the man you loved stopped you. Instead, you shrugged. “K-Kind of?” you replied, voice small.

He sighed, running a hand over his face, and you thought you saw his flush deepen. “I would love to marry you,” he admitted, and your heart soared. Why did he sound so pained? “But I can’t. It wouldn’t be fair, knowing how selfish of a thing it would be.”

You frowned. “What do you mean? It would benefit us both, right? No dying alone.” 

“Yeah, but… I can’t marry someone who doesn’t love me back. Romantically, I mean. I know you love me as a best friend but—” 

You felt the moment your brain processed his words, short-circuiting and forcing you into silence. When you came back to yourself, he was still rambling, and you registered nothing before you were surging off the couch to connect your lips and shut him up. 

He was even more flustered when you pulled back, eyes wide. “I love you too, Jisung. Romantically.”

“Is this a dream?” 

You barked a laugh as you shook your head, leaning in to kiss him once more. This time, he returned it, wrapping his arms around you. “Not a dream.”

He grinned at you as you parted, nodding. “Think the courts are still open?” 

You mirrored his expression. “Only one way to find out.”

“Let’s go get married.”

TAGLIST: @justhere4kpop @tastymintchocolate @tattywood @purrplegyuu @buzzkillem

@kibs-and-bits

© September 2024 nebulousbrainsoup | all rights reserved. reposting and translating of author’s work is prohibited.

[whorediaries-09]

baby, something with sirius and reader going to a pureblood ball, and her defending sirius against walburga and sirius having heart eyes for her?? reader is pureblood btw, and slytherin, so she's basically perfect but risking her reputation for siri baby

your wish my command 💃

dusk till dawn

pairing- sirius black x lestrange!reader warning(s)- hurt/comfort, dialogue heavy. (let me know if should add more) a/n- kinda an enemies to lovers?

ps- i hate the banner 💀

the slut club

let's make love tonight make it up, fall in love

the breakfast table seems too loud to be tolerated today. you rest your cheek on your palm, closing your eyes. you pull the wand out of your hair, letting it fall down. drawing incoherent circles on the wood of the table you yawn, too sleepy to let your mouth move and eat your breakfast.

your eyes don't open until the table goes too silent, excluding a few gasps here and there. the chaos murmurs down to a silent rumble. it's not your hand you feel on your head, it's cold and rough.

'you would've fallen asleep lestrange,'

your eyes widen. it's the voice of the casanova of hogwarts, who reeked of an arrogance you hated with all the hate you could muster.

'does it matter?' you snap back, your voice a carrying a heavy spell of drowsiness you didn't recognize. he raised an eyebrow, retracing his hand from your head, pushing a glass of pumpkin juice towards you.

'yep, i wouldn't want a bruise on my date's face tonight,'

the words spill so casually from his lips, it takes you a few minutes to understand what he said. when realization dawns upon you, you almost spit your drink on his face. instead you swallow on it in an unethical way, coughing up.

'w-what?' you splutter.

'bellatrix's wedding. be there.'

'well obviously i'm gonna be there, she's getting married to my fucking brother.'

'yeah so you'd want a date wouldn't you?'

'why don't you take potter? all the pureblood families are invited.'

'i'd love to, but his family isn't going.'

'but why me?'

'i dunno, cause i know you?' he says, sheepish grin on his face. you raise your eyebrow, looking at him questioningly. it's as if you're trying to progress his request. well not exactly a request, rather a command. nevertheless, you consider it for a moment. while sirius' rebellious attitude and image would surely taint your 'perfect' image, it didn't matter because you too needed a date and so did he. and even though you did 'hate' him, you saw your own opportunity, you wanted to grab it.

'so...what's in for me?'

'come on lestrange, you're getting a date out with me, isn't that enough?'

'nope. i would've considered it if you weren't so tacky black,' you return. he huffs throwing up his hands in the air.

'fine, i'll get you your favorite chocolates from honeydukes,'

'you can't buy me with chocolates. you'll do anything i say if i go out with you. deal?'

he glares at you.

'deal.'

***** the grand ballroom of the black manor glittered with the opulence befitting the pureblood elite. the wedding was a spectacle of extravagance, a showcase of the finest robes, dazzling jewels, and a careful dance of political alliances. sirius reluctantly found himself in attendance, accompanied by you that caused whispers through the gathered crowd.

your family was known for it's pureblood lineage, material possessions and wit. the confidence you felt in the satin robes was fake, but your aristocratic upbringing had taught you to never put your head down, even if you didn't feel comfortable enough.

maybe there was a fire within you or a coldness in your gaze that intrigued him tonight. while you were meant to be pawn, he couldn't help but glance at you. you looked different. you felt different. he wondered if you put up a mask at school or there. the latter seemed more appropriate to the image he had created of you in his head.

but still, you felt different. a stark contrast to the stifling atmosphere where he felt suffocated.

'remember, no touching,' you breathed smiling as you so shook hands with lucius malfoy. while the gaze from his empty eyes sent chills down your spine, you still smiled.

your eyes locked with your brother. he was decked up in a black suit, your family emblem stitched on it with silver threads. brushing his hair away from his face, he mustered a comical grin, putting up a thumbs up in the air. your mother stood beside him, dusting off invisible dust from the velvet. it was a wonder how he could tolerate her nonsense, considering how many times you had wanted to knock her teeth of. nevertheless you approached her. with sirius behind you.

'good evening mother,' you bowed.

'i see you've brought a traitor as your date. i'm not very proud,'

you smiled. you could talk back, she couldn't use the cruciatus curse.

'you never were mother.'

'glad you caught up.'

'i see someone has chosen my filthy traitor of a son as their date,' walburga's oily voice boomed. sirius backed his shoulders, unconsciously gripping on your arm. while his sudden touch felt ghostly, you controlled your urge to back up.

'lady black, i assure you just because you don't choose your son doesn't mean no one else will. he really is a perfect companion.'

the tension hung so thick, you could cut it with a knife. her eyes gazed over you as if you were rust on iron. you felt his grip tighten on your arm.

'now if you'll excuse us,' you said, turning to your brother, 'congratulations on your wedding brother, but it seems like no one here likes our presence. excuse us.'

****

'you really shouldn't have done that you know. defend me against my own mother.' he says, smoke leaking out of his lips as he passed a thin roll of tobacco to you. you crush it under your toe.

'eh,' you shrug, his eyes not meeting yours. yours wander among the stars, the beautiful twinkling reminding you of the veiled insults and shared laughter the both of you had throughout the night.

'i've never really had a friend you know. it was always my brother, but somewhere i think i lost him too. and maybe defending you against your mother gave me a sense of validation.'

sirius squeezes your arm.

'i feel the same way. i think about running away to the potters, but i fear i'll be the black sheep. my mother has engraved shit into my head. and even though i know it's not true, i feel like it is,'

'shit like? you're worthless? sirius you're way more than their opinion,'

his voice is heavy when he hums. silence ensues, but it's a signal. to maybe meet after dark. or maybe to show the place where the others gave him scars. either ways, you let him hold your hand. you think he needs the comfort, wreck your plans. you think you're the train that truly takes him home. at least for the night.

'i feel like i had to tear down my banners. and sometimes i think clarity's in death, but this doesn't die. and memories feel like weapons. the wounds don't close.'

you draw circles on the skin of his wrist. they are unhealed wounds. and maybe you want to heal them. just for perhaps the night. you want to stay, you want him to know that you're there. even if just for dusk till dawn.

it's a childish question but you let it spill out of your mouth anyways.

'will you be my friend?'

he doesn't answer. he rests his head on your shoulder instead. he smells similar to your father, but he doesn't feel like it. he feels like the train that could take you home.

'you collect broken things and try to fix them. if i won't be one of those unfixable things, then maybe.' he whispers. you tighten your fingers around his. it's a silent promise.

to stay.

[sitp-recs]

Between the Power Lines by @tackytigerfic (M, 3k)

For Harry Potter, all roads eventually lead to Draco Malfoy. Or: this is not an AU! It's just Harry and Draco meeting by chance in an imported food shop in Connecticut and going on a road trip together. Featuring motels, cacti, Americana, and a hefty dose of pining.

In New Orleans, they got drunk on Bourbon Street, and Malfoy danced on his own (arms bare, laughing; Harry could have watched him all night) and later on, so late it was almost morning, they let themselves into the St Louis Cemetery—Malfoy unpicking the lock so sweetly—and walked around until the sky was pink-edged with the promise of another day’s heat. Then they sat on the steps of a crypt, watched over by sightless eyes of the statue of an angel. She looked exhausted rather than sad, Harry thought, and that made a lot of sense when he thought about his own longstanding, dull-edged grief.

It’s been ages (or 2 years) since I last wrote a rec for Tacky (I usually write for other readers, except when I’m reccing friends - then I write for them) and their birthday was the perfect excuse to put my reccing muscles back to work. I almost bailed out because I know this is one of T’s own faves and “what if I don’t do it justice?” but that tired angel banner has been sitting in my drafts for 3 long years and it deserves a proper rec!

Where to even begin? Anyone who knows Tacky is aware of their superb prose - rich and nuanced, compassionate, effortlessly funny, with a strong sense of place and a soft spot for suds scenes and filthy m-rated sex I mean devastating romance. Their writing breathes heart and personality, very much like Tacky themself. So knowing that this fic came out exactly as they intended it to should be enough to make you go read this right now, but in case you need further incentive, see below all the reasons why this oneshot is so special to me:

1. The *vibes*: if you thought that 3k is nowhere near enough to build the sexiest, most intriguing Americana atmosphere you’ve seen, think again. The aesthetics are impeccable here, decorating the beautiful and strange landscape - cacti and cheap motels included - into something peaceful and desolate, an overarching melancholy making it even more compelling. The dialogue is brilliant but the silences are just as loud and meaningful, with a quiet intimacy and a dreamlike quality that make you feel as if you're intruding a memory.

2. The romance: at this point everyone and their dog know that pining!Harry is Tacky's jam - they luxuriate in making us all suffer with him until the realization that Draco has been loving him back all along slaps us in the face. Harry is so stupid and desperate and wanton, I love it. And the way Tacky reinvents this delicious trope to make it work in new angsty ways blows my mind. Imo the slow burn is particularly effective here, a feat in any 3k story, because the narrative gives us so much character insight. We learn all the little things that make these two lonely boys tick as we watch their ever-changing perception of each other evolve from a tentative truce to reluctant confidants to a comfortable, easy love that comes naturally and earned. We often get those bits of information from imagery and emotions alone, no dialogue needed, and a road trip is the best way to explore those dynamics in a smooth, unhurried pace.

3. The journey: this is truly an immersive journey, not only physical as we keep jumping from one destination to the next, but also emotional, as we learn more about their vulnerabilities and desires the more they gravitate towards each other. This story shows that being far away from home can be both freeing and grounding, when you’re stuck with your hot enemy someone who knows about your darkest hour. It gives you the chance to heal and visualize a different future without forgetting your past or letting go of that which has shaped who you are. I love their chance encounter and how this poignant 30k love story is told in such impressive economy of words.

TL;DR: if you’re a short form fan and prone to melancholy like me believe me when I say it doesn’t get any better than this. The whole road trip shebang mixing grief, romance and nostalgia wrapped in Tacky’s lush writing is a gift to any reader and an elegant work of art. Enjoy!!!

[minigirl87]

Masterlist

Welcome to my master list. It will almost be a year since I started writing fanfiction with help and encouragement from @melodygatesauthor, Mel's stories, and art are amazing.

I'm a bit of a quirky bohemian, witchy 30s something female.

I am currently only writing for the Oscar Isaac fandom, but I am hoping to venture further by the end of this year, so I will keep this updated.

The first movie I saw starring Oscar was Inside Llewyn Davis because I loved the ginger cat (I'm a crazy cat lady, and I sometimes include my furball in my works). Then the short movies Lighting face and Ticky tacky on Venmo. And then I was really hooked when he played Poe Dameron (I love Star Wars. My first crush was Luke Skywalker).

I hope you enjoy reading my stories as I had writing them.

P.s. Please feel free to message me, I'm a bit forgetful, so nothing personal if I don't respond right away.

⚠️🔞 I can not state this enough. Most of my work is NSFW and is 18+. 🔞⚠️

Marc Spector

Peaches and Cream

My Favourite Study Buddy

Happy Anniversary Marc

Steven Grant

I see you, I’ve always seen you with Steven Grant

Lavender & Mint

Ice is the only hard thing (MK bingo)

Jake Lockley

ROSEMARY & TIME

Third times, the charm

Layla el Faouly

Sugar & Spice

Marc, Steven & Jake

It's ok, love, we're here

We love you, and as such, we take care of you

Richard Muñoz

The push broom (Halloween)

I'm always here for you

Llewyn Davis

MoonRiver and Me

Soon

Steven Grant

MINE prt 1

Mine prt 2

Damaged goods & no returns Chp.1

Laird Leto

The Laird & The Lassie Prt 1 Au

FO Poe Dameron

New Toy part one

New Toy part two

FO Poe Dameron

New Toy part three (Coming soon)

Please feel free to send an ask or message if you are interested in a request. Please send the characters' names and details you want put in. More details help me to build they story better. I write for most Oscar Isaac fandom.

Please feel free to add your user name to my taglist to keep updated.

Banner by me and deviders by @cafekitsune

[idkjustlemmedrownlikerab]

Can we just appreciate Regulus' humour in fanfics tho?? Like take only the brave for example this man was absolutely hilarious!

On the way to the Chamber of Secrets he saw the numerous snake emblems and thought "yk what the snake motif is so tacky! Someone should really teach the dark lord some style" like excuse me my brother in christ like u are one to say? U have Slytherin banners in ur room and a door with the "Do not enter without the express permission from Regulus Arcturus Black"

He also thought it was a good idea to think about the Dark Lord's shiny bald head which reflects the light as if it's the moon and the fact that his nails look disgusting, as if he hasn't had a manicure in decades...while VOLDEMORT WAS GIVING HIM THE DARK MARK even when he knows that he is one of the most competent and famous Legilimens who could literally look into his mind and thoughts

Like this man was a badass and I will always love him sm

[youhideastar]

Recs: Canon-verse WLW Wangxian

This fandom loves modern AU wlw!Wangxian, but sometimes you want your Wangxian ladies-in-love to come with all the sword-riding, hanfu-wearing, and talisman-wielding that we love from canon. ❤️ Here are my favorite wlw Wangxian fics set in the canon universe:

hold her where you want her by damnslippyplanet (7000 words, Burial Mounds, sort of a PWP and sort of a fix-it)

I am OBSESSED with this fic, O-B-S-E-S-S-E-D. You could summarize it as, “LWJ visits WWX in the Burial Mounds and, in effect, fucks her into letting LWJ stay,” but that vastly undersells the depth of feeling, the exquisite LWJ POV, and the beauty of the prose. The line “Their foreheads are touching, but Wei Ying has touched Lan Zhan’s ribbon before, so many times. It hardly matters. Lan Zhan will let her fly it as a banner from the entrance to this place if she wants.” lives rent-free in my head for all of time. And there’s so much more! Run, don’t walk, to read this one.

Married to the Demon by @iamwestiec (10,000 words, AU, warprize!LWJ, yllzhot!WWX, Big Switch Energy)

A captured LWJ is claimed as a war prize and married by WRH’s most powerful ally, the Demon of Qishan… who promptly solicits LWJ’s help in overthrowing WRH. But they still have to keep up a façade in public--and WWX is driving LWJ up a horny wall with the public groping and resentacle-collar-and-handcuffs situation. I love their vibe here—so playful in spite of the terrible situation they’re in—and extra, extra love how much they like calling each other “wife.”

the biggest tits in history by @dulosiswrites /el_em_en_oh_pee (6000 words, very horny, 5 Things, canon retelling)

This fic is really neat because you go in expecting, from the title and tags and summary (“Five times Wei Wuxian notices how absolutely enormous Lan Zhan's tits are, and one time she does something about it.”), that this is going to be crack or porn or both. And there is definitely porn at the end, and it’s very good! But this fic is actually five very sweet snapshots of WWX and LWJ’s relationship, from Cloud Recesses to Xuanwu Cave to the Burial Mounds to WWX’s resurrection (plus the aforementioned porn), each one slightly and delightfully different from canon… and yes, all united by WWX’s fixation on LWJ’s enormous breasts. 😂

out of breath, out of mind by mme_anxious (4000 words, post-canon, PWP, bondage, adorable)

About-to-be-married Wangxian get a book of pornography as an engagement present and are inspired to try bondage for the first time. This is soooo cute, and also really beautifully written – so many gorgeous sentences. Plus, extremely hot. What could be better?

~

It would be tacky to write loving paeans to my own work 🤣, but I'll quickly throw in three of mine since they fit the theme!

Dangerous by Deastar (14,000 words, A/B/O, canon retelling, angst with a happy ending): Beta!LWJ has been raised to fear alphas—aggressive, ungovernable, promiscuous—and meeting alpha!WWX does nothing to change her mind… at first. Then, it changes everything.

scarcely trust my candid heart by Deastar (7000 words, Cloud Recesses arc, fluff and smut, A/B/O, humor): Beta/beta Wangxian with a LWJ who has gotten the incorrect impression that all betas are asexual and therefore finds WWX’s whole, like, everything extremely perplexing.

The Certainty of the Answer by Deastar (1300 words, Xuanwu Cave, fluff): A Xuanwu Cave amuse-bouche in which LWJ kisses WWX and then is stymied re: how to go about securing her hand in marriage.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

So Howdy is basically that one annoying ass kid in high school who’d call everyone around him ‘queer’ as an insult when it’s pretty obvious that he was gay himself and self projecting? Lmaooo i love it and it really does explain a lot!

Ngl though and I’m not trying to bash on laughingstock but i think it’s EDDIE that Howdy might be crushing on since in the banner on the previous update, Howdy’s icon is looking at Eddie’s.

I think he treats him hostilely is because he has feelings for him and he doesn’t know how to process them and so it comes out as anger and passive aggressive resentment.

Ofc I don’t think he’d be the best partner for Eddie due to this… I do think though that when it’s revealed that Eddie and Frank are madly in love that it’s going to cause Howdy to feel more anger and maybe even hatred towards the two.

ehhhh.... not buying it, sorry!

i'd be willing to hear this theory out if there was any evidence other than "Howdy is looking at him in the banner" (and Home is looking at Howdy, and Barn is looking at Wally, and Wally is looking at Us, and Julie is looking at Frank - it doesn't necessarily connotate romance) and the idea of Howdy's treatment of Eddie being a "get out of my school" type of thing.

but if that were the case, wouldn't we have seen more evidence by now? like... Any?? Howdy and Eddie have had minimal interaction, and in each one Howdy was fully disinterested and dismissive of Eddie. there is literally nothing in his behavior or dialogue that implies romantic feelings, repressed or otherwise. you'd think that Howdy would at least get a little flustered or defensive, but he doesn't! all he expresses is disinterest and slight annoyance.

and this just... doesn't feel like a story where a major plot point is "character A is jealous of the established relationship because A is in love with one of them". it's a bit... how do i say? Tacky, perhaps? a touch basic? a teeny bit uninspired...

and character-wise, Howdy having feelings for Eddie doesn't make much sense (the thought that Howdy's treatment of him stems from romantic feelings Definitely doesn't). it doesn't really fit him and what we know about him? there's a reason Howdy views Eddie as a rival, i think.

[rock-and-roll-hell]

September 8, 1980

Unmasked Tour

Wembley Arena - London, England

“From the wonders of Wonder to the overblown kitsch of KIϟϟ – anyone monitoring events at Wembley over the past few days may be forgiven for questioning what extremes, from the truly sublime to the truly ridiculous, currently coexist under the banners of pop music. Of Stevie represented the heights of black American music in the Seventies, then KIϟϟ represent if not quite the total depth, then at least an overemplified vaudeville circus that has done wonders for the band balance of white American ‘theatrical heavy metal…’ Gene Simmons – whose unlikely friend Diana Ross was the only attractive sight at Wembley last night – wore a cloak, a sci-fi Roman costume and makeup that was somewhere between Chinese Emperor, clown and a vampire bat. He also stuck out his tongue a great deal. If that’s what gives little American girls erotic nightmares, then my profound condolences to all little American girls. The problem with the band’s performance was not a lack of music but that there was far too much of it in between the expensively cheap and jolly garish special effects. KIϟϟ played with thunderous slick professionalism and no feeling, with a deafening sound that easily disguised their few reasonable songs like 'I Was Made for Loving You.’ But music didn’t sell this band, as you might have guessed, and after the first minute I was hoping for the much-publicised special effects if only to relieve the painful tedium. When they came these included Simmons breathing fire (very briefly), and a guitar that started belching smoke and was then hauled above the stage where it was shot down by another guitar apparently firing rockets. I staggered out, musing on the devotion that must have led Ms. Ross to sit through such a tacky show more than once” (The Guardian, 9/9/80).

[artzychic27]

So what is one thing that science kids dislike about the akuma class and heroes?

Mireille: Only one?

*Meanwhile, the Akuma Class is listening outside through the door

Denise: I don't know. I love Kitty Section’s angle, but, Rose’s singing just makes my ears bleed sometimes.

Rose: *Gasps*

Lacey: Oh, and then they’re always attracting Akumas, constantly. Me, I’m just like, “Hello! Can we get a break? Stop pissing people off!”

Nino: Way harsh, dude.

Marc: You know, I never cared much for those stupid Adrinette plans. *Marinette tears up* It’s like that ship is their cult, or something, it’s freaky.

Zoé: And let’s not forget that teacher of theirs’. She acts like they’re five years old with that, “love conquers all” bullshit.

Ismael: And, you know, I never understood why they asked Marinette to make that banner for Kim and Alix’s race earlier in the year. Kinda tacky, right?

Cosette: Not to mention, those basic-ass gender neutral outfits. They just look like stereotypical French clothes.

Marc: Not very original.

Marinette: What?!

Jean: Did you hear something? Ah, never mind, it’s probably not important. Oh, and I really do think those guys will be tricked into joining a cult.

Reshma: Lila?

Jean: Who else, dear? Seriously, I get migraines just from hearing her talk. I truly do think they’ll jump off a cliff if Lila says it’ll give them magical powers.

Alix: Excuse me?!

Jean: But, Marinette’s not any better.

Mireille: Although, if I were to be locked in a room with one of them or a bear… I’ll take the bear.

Marinette: *Gasps*

Marc: “Lila’s being mean, poor me! My best friends don’t believe me! Everyone should believe me! It’s not fair! I’m perfect! Waah!”

Cosette: *Snickers* Marc! That is a dead-on Marinette impression!

Zoé: You really capture her whining.

Marc: No, Lila whines, Marinette throws a pity party.

Simon: Pathetic.

Science Kids: *Laughing*

Simon: Ah, what else? Uh… Can I just say I dislike them as a whole? Separately, they’re fine, minus Chloé and Marinette? But, together? It is just way too much.

Lacey: Oh, valid. When they’re all together in a group, you just know shit’s gonna hit the fan. I stay close to home in case there’s an Akuma. ‘Cause-

Jean/Lacey: They’re always causing Akumas!

Lacey: He gets it!