#almost the same exact name and a middle name that has the last half of the team leads first name

[justalittletiredandobsessed]

I think I just broke one of my coworkers

[aviiarie]

“𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐆𝐎 𝐅𝐀𝐑.” — feat. oikawa tooru.

synopsis. the night before he leaves for argentina, tooru visits you one last time.

✦ contents. title is from 'you're gonna go far' by noah kahan. platonic. reader + oikawa are best friends. gn!reader. angst, but with a hopeful ending. 1.8k words.

✦ notes. making my haikyuu debut with angst <3 this one is kinda bittersweet ngl, i made myself sad writing it.

You don’t need to open the door to know whose hand is knocking. 

Two quick raps, a half-second pause, and one more for good measure. He has knocked on your door the exact same way, ever since you were in elementary school and he was begging you to come play volleyball. Over the years, that even rhythm would sound every single morning, right before you rushed out of the house to walk together to class.

He’s no stranger to your home. If he wanted, he could fish out the spare key under the doormat and enter as he pleased, without so much as a second glance from your parents. With the amount of time he spent with you growing up, it was as if he was another member of the family; just a typical annoying brother, who happened to live a few houses down.

But it had been a whole two weeks since you’d seen, or even spoke to him. His presence was that of a stranger, an unfamiliar guest, a distant relative. He could only knock, and hope you weren’t still upset enough to ignore him completely.

The traces of anger still linger in your chest, but you turn the handle anyway to find him shivering on your porch, clothes soaked from the rain.

He’s grown a lot from that snot-nosed child who showed up at your door every second weekend. He is taller, for starters, and his body has filled out with muscle. The baby fat in his cheeks was chipped away, leaving him with that perfectly sculpted face that had his classmates fawning over him. A charming smile and a wink from his soft, sparkling eyes would have anyone going mad.

Yet those eyes, the ones that would melt the heart of his fangirls, were nowhere to be seen. Instead, they looked red and puffy, like he’d been crying before he arrived.

He never cried, not unless it was something serious.

“Can we talk?” Tooru asks, his voice oddly quiet. Maybe it’s the rare vulnerability in his eyes, or maybe it’s the fact that you’ve never really been able to refuse him, but you step aside to let him in without a second thought.

Wordlessly, he takes his place on your couch, as you fetch him a towel to dry his clothes, and poured two glasses of water. Each action is taken in complete silence, other than the opening and closing of cupboards and clinking of glass. Tooru watches you as you move from room to room, sitting with his back straight and hands folded neatly over his lap. By the time you join him, placing a glass in front of him and keeping the other in your hands, his hands are curled into fists, and his shoulders are almost imperceptibly shaking.

It’s awkward, it’s stifling, and it’s utterly miserable. You’re unused to his presence being something that incites such discomfort, when he was your shoulder to cry and ear to listen to all of your problems throughout your teen years.

One argument. That was all it took, for your comfortable silences and soothing familiarities to be ripped away.

“I’ve packed up my house.” Tooru says, breaking the silence. “Everything I own–everything that’s important, that is. I’ve been putting it off, but I’m leaving tomorrow, so... I had to get it done.”

“Oh yeah?” You mutter. “I’m sure that was hard, picking which trophies you wanna take with you.”

He laughs, a weak sound. “The important stuff, I said.”

“Didn’t you also say that winning was the most important part of life?”

“Hey, don’t use my middle school self’s words against me, you’re better than that, [Name]!” Tooru whines. And for a moment, it’s easy to forget why you were upset in the first place, and slip back into that back-and-forth teasing that you were so used to. But it only takes one look into his bloodshot eyes to remember, and the laughter dies in your throat.

You turn your attention to your water, ignoring the way he stiffens. “Yeah, well you’re good at suddenly changing your mind, aren’t you?”

There it was. That awkward silence.

Tooru was at a loss for words, alternating between staring at you with his lips pursed, ready to say something, before changing his mind and looking down at his feet. You sit at his side, idly taking sips from your drink and ignoring the simmering tension. It’s unbearable, the feeling of conflict between you. Unbearable, and unfamiliar.

“I know you’re angry at me.” He blurts out suddenly.

Your hands freeze, right before the glass reaches your lips. “I’m not angry at you.”

“You don’t have to lie to me.”

“I’m not angry at you.” You repeat, placing the glass down with a little more force than is necessary. “You’re chasing your dreams. I’d be a pretty lousy friend if I was angry about that.”

“But you are angry,” Tooru prompts, leaning forward.

“I… Yes, I am angry.” You admit. “I’m angry that I found out about this two weeks before you planned to uproot your entire life and move to the other side of the world. I’m angry that even though you’ve been thinking about this for so long, you haven’t told me anything. I’m angry that I’m apparently the last person you’ve told–”

You cut yourself off, and take a deep breath to steel the stirring emotions turning in your stomach. “I’m not angry at you, I’m just angry at the way you handled this. That’s all.”

Looking at him in the eye is too difficult, so you look at your hands instead, clenching them into fists in your lap.

“I just don’t–I don’t understand why. Why didn’t you want me to know?” Your words wavered, thick with emotion. “Did you want to leave me behind that bad?”

“No!” Tooru cries. “You’re my friend, of course I didn’t want to leave you!”

“Then explain it to me! Explain why, when you were researching Argentinian volleyball teams six months ago, you never thought to tell me you were thinking about leaving Japan?”

You're both yelling now, but you can't bring yourself to care about waking up the rest of your house. You only care about him, and the tattered state of your friendship.

“You wanna know the real answer? I was scared.” Tooru chuckles bitterly, raking his fingers through his air.. “I was terrified, because you’re one of my best friends and I didn’t know how you would react. Telling Iwa-chan was easy, a walk in the park compared to telling you. At least I knew he would never try to stop me, but if you…”

There is a pause, and a beat of silence before he continues. “If you asked me–truly, truly asked me to stay, then I don’t think I would say no. No matter how suffocating it is here, I would deal with it if you needed me. And I guess, part of me was scared you would, and I didn’t know what I would do if I forced myself to give up like that.”

You stare at him, wide-eyed. What could you say to that, the admission that he would forfeit his chance to pursue his goals, if you tried hard enough? There was a stir in your chest, a sickly, selfish thought worming into your mind:

What if you did?

The idea is followed almost immediately with a wash of guilt, bile rising in the back of your throat. You hate yourself for even considering the idea, but you can’t deny how badly you want him to stay. Part of you yearns for your high school days to stretch on a little longer, if only for a few more months of cheering on Aoba Johsai during their volleyball matches and celebrating with Tooru and Iwaizumi afterwards.

At some point, you had gotten ramen together for the last time, without even realizing it. You should have savoured the moment; captured the memory in your mind and kept it like a polaroid in the back of your head.

“I want to stay with you, I really do.” Tooru says quietly, not meeting your eye. “But I want this even more. We’re not kids anymore; I need to move on.”

You inhale sharply.

He was right. You weren’t kids. You couldn’t keep trailing behind him, always at his heels or by his side. As much as you loved having him close to you, you loved the idea of him thriving even more. In the end, that is all that matters.

“I know,” Your eyes are fully glossed over with tears, but you steel yourself enough to meet his gaze. “And I would never want to hold you back. Your happiness means more to me than anything else, so if this… if this is going to make you happy, then you have all my support.”

“Do… you mean that?” He asks, searching your expression for any sign of doubt.

You punch him in the shoulder lightly. “You’ll always have my support, dumbass.” 

The jab doesn't faze him at all; if anything, he looks overjoyed.

“Thank you,” Tooru’s words are choked up, but there’s a clear weight that’s been lifted off his shoulders. “Thank you, I couldn’t leave without hearing that.”

Of course he couldn’t.

No wonder he looked a mess when he arrived. You were willing to bet the guilt of an unresolved argument between the two of you was eating him alive. It wasn’t like it was any easier for you; your own guilt began to stir at the thought of him tossing and turning, unable to get the idea of your disapproval out of his head. 

“You’re gonna go far, okay? The world's gonna know the name Oikawa Tooru, starting setter. And when you’re up there, on Argentina’s best volleyball team, winning game after game–” You flashed him a smile. “Make sure to remember your best friend, okay?”

“Yeah,” He grins. “I’ll thank Iwa-chan for the support–”

“Excuse me–”

“And you, of course.” Tooru’s smile widens, and he reaches out to pull you into a side hug. 

“Yeah, yeah.” You grumble, but you’re not able to hold back a small smile of your own. “Make sure to win lots of games while you’re over there, okay?”

Tooru scoffs, the same indignant noise he’s made ever since middle school, when you told him he better win his games or else. It was always an ‘or else’; ‘or else’ he would have to buy snacks on the way home, ‘or else’ you would tell his little fangirls that he tripped and fell into a pole that morning, ‘or else’ you wouldn’t go with him to that amusement park you’ve both been eyeing.

Whether the silly threats made any difference on his performance, you’ll never know. All you know is this time, next time, and every time after that, there’s nothing holding him back from giving every game his all.

“It’s a deal.”

© aviiarie 2024. do not copy, repost, translate or use my work to train ai

[dearfuturehusbandblog]

I'm Not Sure How To Feel...

Dear Future Husband,

Wow. I almost wrote Deaf Uture Husband, which is either ironic or a Freudian slip of the fingers, because that's literally what this post is about.

I grew up with a disabled, lazy, mostly-absentee, so-many-other-problems, father.

And someone just sent me the resume for someone similar.

Now, the truth is, I don't know him all that well.

But I do know that he's deaf (aka disabled). And that (at least in the beginning, especially around the divorce) he has been kind of an absentee father. And that he was kind of pushed into working despite not really wanting to, so he basically works a minimum wage job.

I know all this because he's the ex of a family friend.

Yeah.

Also he's a lot younger than me, which on it's face isn't necessarily a problem, but it's the lack of maturity more than the "youngness" that bothers me.

The friend who sent the resume is one of the absolute sweetest people you could ever meet in your life.

We were in middle and high school together, though we didn't share too many classes and weren't in the same social circles, so at the time we were more acquaintances than friends.

But recently I signed up to bring them a meal after she gave birth and I've since been helping her out with the kids a few times a week and we've definitely moved from acquaintances to friends.

Since it's been less than 2 months though, we are still getting to know each other and I'm not sure if the resume was her idea or her husband's. I don't even really know if they actually know him or just read the resume and thought it sounded good for me. But she had asked me if the last name had ever come across my desk before and I just thought to myself "it caaaan't be who I think it is...." so I told her to feel free to send it over, because the best case scenario is that it's someone I've never heard of and the worst case scenario is I just say no thank you.

I considered how to word it when I saw that it was exactly who I thought it was, and ended up just telling her how funny it was that I actually did know who he was and that it was just not shayich for a bunch of reasons, but I'd keep him in mind for others.

Diplomatic, closed the subject, and now we can move on.

Or can we....?

Because this is the second guy suggested to me this year who is a little off.

And I know that kind of comes with the territory of being an "older single".

And I know that people think that I'm the sweetest person and therefore would entertain the idea of these guys because I come across as a nonjudgemental person, the exact type these guys would need to marry.

But at the same time, I'd like to think people deem me worthy of at least a 6, you know?

Neither of these guys are ugly, per se, but they're just ambitionless.

And I know, look who's talking, right? But the truth is, I do have ambitions, I just have no way to make them happen because I don't have the mazal for it.

These guys could have all the mazal in the world, but they just kind of couldn't care less, I guess.

They kind of lack personality.

And I know I have friends who are all personality who married very mild guys, but I feel like I need someone who I can have a conversation with. Someone I can be a bit combative with (in a healthy way). Someone with thoughts and ideas and who wants to do things.

Does this mean I just don't come off as my authentic self to the people who are trying to set me up? (Not that I really think I'm ready for marriage yet, but since Hashem works in mysterious ways, I don't just shoot down whatever ideas are floated my way)

The first guy who was suggested to me this year I did actually go out with. Since I was away for the summer and he was staying like an hour and a half away from where I was staying, he took a bus to come meet me, which I totally didn't expect to happen.

He was nice enough, but awkward and probably on the spectrum. I did most of the talking and it was like pulling teeth to get him to open up about most things, so I kept it light and did mostly ice breaker type conversation while we walked around a park a little bit. Then I drove him to catch his bus and that was kind of it.

The girl who wanted us to go out was an old family friend I hadn't seen in at least 15 years, but I ran into her at a simcha and she had her mom (who used to be a shadchan) do the shadchan thing.

Just based on his resume, I had a feeling it wasn't going to work out because hashkafically we were in two different places, but I figured if he was up to meet, then the least I could do was give him an hour or two of my time, because maybe I'd know someone who is right for him.

The friend later told me that he never dates because he's too shy and she'd been trying to get him to go out for several years and I was the first person he'd said yes to. She tried to get me to go on another date with him, but like I said, hashkafically we were just on two different pages though if he's interested in talking tachlis, I'll go out again, but he kind of agreed because he didn't want a second date either. (She kind of figured if she could get me to say yes then maybe he would too. I think she's just trying to get him out of his little rut, though I don't know if he wants to leave it, to be honest...)

For example, I'm looking for someone for whom attending minyan is important, whereas he prefers to daven by himself, if at all.

And I'm looking for someone who has a regular learning seder multiple days a week, at the very least over the phone if they're unable to connect in person, and he learns about once a week, if at all.

I want a Shabbos table that revolves around Torah, sefarim, and zemiros. And he... I guess doesn't?

In general I'm just looking for someone more serious about and more settled in their yiddishkeit and I didn't get that impression of him in the resume or in person (and then the shadchan confirmed those impressions too).

And as for this second guy I was just suggested... I get the feeling it's the same type of situation. I've met him several times and he just reminds me so much of my father in terms of his apathy towards yiddishkeit and being a father.

That's not at all what I'm looking for.

And I know this friend who sent the resume for this second guy sees the world through such positive, beautiful glasses, but I can't help thinking that it's kind of offensive people think that little of me.

Again, maybe that's not at all what she was thinking. Maybe she doesn't actually know him and was just passing along the resume for someone who on paper looks great. I mean, the resume looks decent. The blurb is short and hits all the important positive points, so from the outside it is similar to what I'm looking for.

But knowing the person and the way things went down with the divorce and everything definitely changes the whole perspective. His ex was literally in tears on multiple occasions that he seemed so disinterested in his role as a father and just showing up and being present when the kids wanted him.

So I guess at this point I'm just hoping she doesn't actually know him and was just passing along the resume because it looks decent.

Either way, dear future husband, he is not you. Neither of them are. I can say that with confidence.

-LivelyHeart

[eight-cats-in-a-box]

hi, can you, please, write about a (female) reader, who performs as a singer, and Megatron (secretly) attends her concerts and has romantic feelings for her?

Ooh! This is super cute, absolutely!

TFA Megatron x Singer/Performer! Reader

I tried to make it femme but it came out mostly gn I'm sorry 😔

Megatron watched from the shadows in the concert hall as you performed. Times like these, he was glad Shockwave had perfected the holoform technology.

He had been there for one of your very first shows, your sweet, saccharine voice casting a spell on him from the very first notes. He'd shown up at every single show after that, even taking the time to actually purchase a ticket for each one. Even though he could simply materialise the holoform inside the concert hall, it would attract too much attention.

That, and he wanted to support you.

You knew him now- not by name, of course- but you knew to look towards middle left and he would be there. You always looked so excited when you managed to catch sight of him. It was a lovely sight to see, your bright eyes shining ever-brighter with the excitement.

The few times he had managed to snag your attention after your show to have a brief conversation, he had found you witty, charming, and with a sharp, wisecracking humour quite similar to his own. You were even more gorgeous up close, the way your hair framed your face haunting his dreams even now, megacycles later.

You were performing something new tonight, something a bit slower than your usual. It had a nice tune to it, and Megatron already knew that he'd be humming it under his vents for decacycles to come. The program called it "Your Songbird", which he found rather cute. He couldn't be certain that it was from his nickname for you, but a mech can dream.

His songbird. Oh, what he'd give to call you his. The temptation to snatch you away was strong, but he wanted to see you happy more than he wanted to call you his. And you couldn't be happy, caged away in the Decepticon lair. Megatron knew that much.

He would woo you properly, court you, and perhaps eventually, he would show you his truest form.

__________________________

You spotted him, half-hidden by the shadows of the concert hall, and the happiness that bubbled up in your chest followed. He had been there at...oh, your third show? Yes, that was it. He had seemed so enraptured that evening, and it seemed he wanted to hear more.

He's shown up at nearly every one of your performances since, and every time he's sat in almost the exact same place- middle row, slightly to your left. It helped you find him, and you suspected that's why he did it.

He always insisted on paying the highest price possible for a ticket as well, which seemed odd to you- normally people would harass you for discounts, not jacked up prices. But he always insisted.

You had talked after your shows a few times, and he seemed to be a true gentleman. Smart, alluringly so, and with a sharp wit that was a perfect match to your own. It helped that he was hot as hell, with longish silver hair and a dark beard that framed a weathered, handsome face. You'd never caught his name- you could've seen from the ticket sales, but that felt like cheating.

You were performing something you had written for him tonight, something that you'd named after the nickname he'd given you. "Your Songbird", and his you were indeed- if not in reality, then certainly in spirit.

You would try to talk to him after the show, see if he got the message. You hoped he did.

You didn't even know his first name, but you hoped you'd take his last eventually.

Masterlist

[lunaekalenda]

sweet version - chocolates for satoru (part one)

You were sure that Satoru's locker would be full of chocolates, presents and love letters. You knew it was stupid to leave some for them yourself but, still, you're baking some in the middle of the night, a glass of coffee half empty resting near your phone on the table. You rap rhythmically on the counter with your fingernails, waiting patiently for the chocolate to melt on the microwave. The card, decorated with a simple kitty drawing and a heart, looks at your from near the bag you're gonna use to give the chocolates to him. Every second on the microwave makes you think. Are you really doing this for Satoru? The one that has half of the college students behind? Do you really think he will care about some more chocolates on Valentine's Day?

You're about to drop the chocolates but the cute mold you got for this stops you. Kitty chocolates. It was too cute to leave it at the store and, plus, that's kinda how you started to like Satoru, during that cold winter day, when a fluffy white kitty looked at you from inside his coat. When his eyes met your fascinated ones, he just smiled and took your hand, slowly resting it on the kitty's head, letting you pat him. "It was too cold for him to be outside. He doesn't seem to have a home, so he has now." That exact moment, when you took your eyes up and they collided with Satoru's blue ones, and he smiled so softly to you, with your hand still near his chest and the cat between your bodies, purring softly at your touch.

And, almost a year later of seeing him on the corridors, sharing classes and feeling your heartbeat race with every tiny interaction you had, now you're baking him chocolates. Pretty hilarious. Probably he won't even look twice at them. But, what do you lose?

After hours of mixing chocolate, sweet fillers and exasperating over bad-explained tutorials, your kitty chocolates are ready and on the fridge. With a last sigh, you close the door and go to sleep upstairs. You need to rest. Tomorrow will be a hard day.

His first chocolates were on his locker time before he arrived to school. There were also notes on his desk. Even on his chair. Satoru has definitely something (something more than his looks and his charm) that attracted everyone to him. It was so early and everything was so full of chocolates. Heart shaped ones, expensive ones, notes with cute calligraphy and even gifts could be seen on Satoru's place.

The kitty chocolates seemed to laugh at you when you looked at them, and the poorly-decorated card you were so proud of yesterday gives you a look back. Taking them on your hands, you search the closest exit to the gardens. Once outside, you feel how the fresh air takes the anxiety knot of your chest away. Sighing, you sit on a bench, in front of the pond. Taking your eyes to the chocolates, you look again at your creation. They really do look tasty.

You hear steps before a long sigh comes from your left. Satoru plays with a bag on his hands, before sitting by your side. It's maybe this your opportunity? Or are those his favorite chocolates between all the pile he has been collecting today. He takes a quick look to your hands.

"Valentine's present?" he asks. You stay quiet and silent, before sighing long. You nod once, twice, before speaking.

"Yours?" he nods again. You both sit on the bench, bodies close, but far at the same time. His long digits keep playing with the sweets inside the bag.

"Isn't it ironic?" he murmurs. "I've never took the first train to college." his whispers are audible when he sits a little closer. "I've never baked before." he gives another twist to the bag on his hands. "And I've never wanted to be here first than anyone." He releases a long sigh. "But, still, I couldn't be the first one." With a sweet smile, he stands up, letting the bag of chocolates fall in your hands. The card attached to it is written in big red colors, and your name is displayed on it.

It wasn't a gift for Satoru.

It was his gift for you.

Standing up quickly and reacting as soon as possible, without letting the cute smile leave your mouth, you run towards him, stopping Satoru near the entrance of the building. He mistook your sweets with a gift from someone. Standing in front of him, and keeping your eyes on his, you put the chocolates on his hand. His pale cheeks blush softly when he sees the "For Satoru" on the card. His eyes travel to the chocolates, and he can't help but smile when he sees the kitty shape. The moment reminds you to when you fell in love with him: close, with something making you both smile between your bodies.

"Is it Tami?" he whispers. "You baked chocolate Tamis... for me?" he seems incredibly grateful and moved. You nod under his attentive gaze. "Why?"

Taking all the air you could into your lungs, you leave your mind blank to avoid making any mistake, since you want your confession to be heard clear.

"Because I like you, Satoru."

[eolewyn1010]

Downton Abbey Fashion 55 - outdoors fashion in 1924

This post goes largely to Rose, but we’ll start off with a look at a few *le gasp* middle-class women.

Starting with the one whose romantic farewell was “I wish you’d never even met your wife whom you loved so much; I can’t believe you expect me to treat your family with basic manners.” Fellowes’ writing has really gone down the drain. But let’s look at the new color palette of the worst communist character ever written. She goes from pastels last season to jewel tones in this, and from owning multiple coats but limited hats to always the same coat but with a new hat every time we see her. The coat is a nice shade of blue, and I love the scarf she wears in the second picture. Funnily, she has a new little pin on her lapel each time.

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

Over to Diana Clark. She’s only around for one scene and a half, but the dress she wears is quite pretty, the blue and white matching nicely, the flower print giving this a little whimsy. Why is this quiet, kind woman who wears flowered fabrics the mistress of a rough, loud dipshit like Lord Sinderby? I hope she gets out of that situation. Or shacks up with Lady Sinderby instead. But look at the point where her white sleeves cut off over the blue cuffs: The cut edge is lining up with the print. This is so adorable.

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

Up the food chain, over to Rose. Look, she has a lovely coat almost the exact same shade as one of Edith’s. And this one has a sweet, sweet design that’s got me captured: Both the lower part of the coat itself and of the sleeves is all box pleats. This is honestly so nice. Also, the dress she wears under the coat in the second picture, the sky blue one with the flower garland? That’s Edith’s later on in the season. I don’t know why Rose wears it here.

Does Rose always move like she’s on a cat walk? Girl, you’re just going down the street; stop posing. Very nice outfit though! The skirt and jacket have a nice color contrast, and the jacket itself has as much tailoring as the 1920s would allow, the shoulder section sitting all nice and snug. It also comes with a matching scarf and a hat that, while black, does at least have a flower on it.

A rust-colored velvet coat, I think this is what Rose wears when she meets Atticus for the first time. The coat is not much beyond lapels, but Rose has paired it with the most adorable hat with flowers in various shades from peach to coral to chestnut. And, well, she’s Rose, so how could he not be smitten?

Sometimes, I’m sitting here burrowing through my vocabulary to name a color. Is this light brown? Leaning towards coral? Puce? What an ugly name for a nice shade. Rose wears this to a riding tournament if I remember correctly, and among all the other spectators mainly wearing shades of brown and grey, she looks the pinkest. The hats are a tie for me; I like she color and the brim of the second better, but the first has this adorable red-leaves-on-a-cream-ribbon decoration.

Hat is back, coat is exchanged for something… beiger? It’s fine, I guess. It has this scalloped collar design which is neat, and Rose wears it over a very colorful dress that I’ll have a chance to discuss on its own later. Also, Rose’s netting gloves are blue. Can’t say I’ve seen that before. Most I know are either black, white, or beige.

Rose, why on earth are you making a duck face? Were pouty lips even in the 1920s beauty standard? Okay; whatever, let’s talk about Rose’s honeymoon travel outfit. The hat is cute, the coat is simply-cut but has a lovely blue shade and a mass of white curlicues I love. And the dress. I want this dress. The crocheted neckline? The fringe on the back and the hem? The light, summery linen? This dress is a thing of beauty.

[jacksmusesdrv3]

Bit of a weird question here, but what's your thoughts on Kodaka's new game if you've seen the trailer?

Not at all weird anonie, I did after all talk about Raincode impressions here too! Although to be honest with you I have had... almost no idea what to think at this moment in time, even after having watched the trailer twice, because my head just plain isn't in it at all and I wasn't remotely prepared for this kind of a bombshell, haaahahaha

That being said, I'm just loving the seeming random reference-but-not-reference to Kokichi - or rather DICE - in this-

-fucking thing right here. Like excuse me Kodaka, you're pulling this shit after having someone's birthday in Raincode being exactly 1 month and 1 day difference from Kokichi just outta nowhere, and the group on the front of Raincode's cover is like 10 people plus one in the middle. Now you have the exact outline of the DICE logo plus one stripe (look buddy, just say you love him- I know it, we all know it, you put a kanji from your name in Kokichi and that wasn't enough).

...Ahem. If this is leaning into a fighting system again, maybe it will expand to DR:AE world-exploration style. I also rather like the commentary that's been going around about 'what if we're the bad guys unknowingly'- like I know it's a bit of a cliche at this point, but seriously making the protagonist literally have Yomi Hellsmile aesthetic is kind of ironically hilarious to me. More importantly that's a theme that's 'vaguely' touched upon in V3 (what with the whole scapegoating of Kokichi, unknown truth of the academy and all that), so maybe he'll actually get to sink his teeth into it more fully in this game. Especially in terms of character dynamics. That could be fun.

I think after Raincode happened I'm not sure about what I can say in terms of my feelings (since my interest in Raincode waxed and waned reeeally hard last year). Though if Kodaka wanted this game so much he went into debt for it at the same time people thought he was 'just half-assing V3', he has to have something about it that's special to him in particular. So, I'll happily hear what he has to say.

(Though I hope for his sake, his projects and the people in his employ, that he doesn't... pull shit like this again. Jesus christ, dude)

Also woweee, what a cool-looking cut-in.

[lakesparkles]

Longing (chapter 2 - bjhm fanfiction)

(I don't know how to put titles on mobile, in case it looks weird)

Anyways, I finally finished editing the second chapter of my AU fanfic!

You can read it on google docs or under the cut:

Longing

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Diane's routine remains exactly the same, except for the constant presence of Mr. Peanutbutter

—

(I think it would be nice to say, as a warning, that there are a lot of reflections about emotional cheating in the first half of this chapter. But everything will be alright, you’ll understand when you read it ^^’)

"I miss you" the words came out of Mr. Peanutbutter's mouth quickly, as if he would lose courage if he didn't say them in that exact second.

"You saw me, like, last night." Diane shrugged and moved the phone to her other ear, already starting to feel uncomfortable in her own skin.

"I know... Yeah." He laughed to himself, his voice losing its serious tone when he completed. " I need to go back to recording, ehrrrr... now! See you later, Diane!"

Did he really need to say her name like that every time?

"Bye, Mr Peanutbutter."

After disconnecting the call, she continued standing in the same place, trying to regain her concentration.

Texas might be even hotter than California, but even that didn't save it from certain freezing nights. At least it didn't come close to that freezing hell Chicago called winter. It was funny, right? How many places has she once called home?

That thought got her feet moving again, walking down the middle of the street. It had just gotten dark, which meant that was the time her eyes still hadn't gotten used to how bright the shop windows were. Everything got her attention. Her legs shivered in the icy wind, and soon her eyes were caught by the jeans in the store next to her, now being twice as interesting.

The cafeteria next door looked warm and comfortable, the walls painted dark browns and oranges. She was almost dragged inside, only stopping herself because she knew Guy was waiting for her at home - she imagined it well: he would be on the sofa with his feet on the table and the sketchbook in his lap. He would flash his typical smile when he saw her coming, and Diane would quickly remove her boots and coat and slip into her warm pajamas. By the time she was out of the shower, he would’ve prepared two mugs of hot chocolate. The two of them would drink in bed, and Diane would hide again among the fur on his neck, even forgetting the cold.

What was a coffee shop next to that?

She quickened her steps, excited.

When her mind returned to place, she was already facing a window again, almost hypnotized. That was certainly a nice coat... If she was going to buy it, it would be in the future. Now, home! This same thought process happened another 20 times until she reached her destination. As soon as she finished climbing the short staircase leading to her front door, she kicked her boots off her feet. She couldn't wait to stop shivering and be able to breathe without blowing a puff of smoke from her mouth.

Her house was quiet and dark, but none of it was too out of character for it. Guy always used to arrive around that time, staying in the room until he stopped being too lazy to do anything else. So Diane walked with calm steps into the room, not surprised by the sight she found:

Her husband had the sketchbook on his lap, but it nearly fell off his knee. He was far more interested in what he was typing on his cell phone, letting out a small chuckle to himself. Only then did he noticed her presence:

"Diane! Babe, it's too cold today, isn't it?"

She didn't need another word to understand the invitation:

"Very…" She mumbled, lazily crawling under the covers beside him. Changing clothes could wait a little while. The bath too. This was the moment she'd been waiting for all day, already feeling her body heat up completely as she made herself comfortable and started rubbing her cheek against Guy's shoulder.

"Do you have any theories about what the movie Mr Peanutbutter is shooting is? He doesn't want to tell me!" Guy commented, with even better humor than usual.

Oh, sure. Mr Peanutbutter.

Diane curled up a little to answer, yawning and stretching her legs out from under the covers one second, only to curl back up like a cat the next.

She couldn't get away from it, could she?

"He didn't tell me anything about it either," she shrugged, "but I think it's kind of obvious."

"It's a horror movie, isn't it!?"

"For sure! I guess it's even a sequel to some other famous franchise."

Guy took that as the confirmation he needed, perking up and getting back to typing. Out of the corner of her eye, Diane caught a few written words: "The Ring 5?"; "It 3?"; "No, I don't think it's this one"; "But it's horror."

Mr Peanutbutter responded at the exact second: "No more guesses!!!", "They'll kill me if this gets out!! :(".

She should stop being so nosy!

Her stomach lurched when she noticed that Guy was already laughing again.

"You and my ex husband having any intimacy was not in my bingo of bizarre things that would happen to me" she tried to make a joke to lighten the mood… for herself.

"Well, he's here all the time now."

Yeah, she couldn't deny it.

The presence of that yellow dog became a constant another time, and that wasn't something you could prepare for.

During the last few years, she found herself thinking about Mr Peanutbutter from time to time. Usually it happened on nights when she couldn't sleep and lost control of her thoughts. Or when everything went bad again, and her mind found confusing and desperate solutions for any kind of comfort.

She had already accepted that guilt was a feeling that would always accompany her when she was around her ex-husband.

Now the longing mixed and started several other reflections.

Since she'd moved from California, she'd learned what it was like to genuinely miss someone. A faint smile broke out when she saw a rare selfie posted by Princess Carolyn. She perked up every time Todd and Maude made a sudden visit, bringing with them another chaotic day that she was growing increasingly unaccustomed to.

With Mr. Peanutbutter... It was a little different. With him everything always was.

Every time he texted her or dropped by her house to watch another obscure movie with Guy... Diane learned something new about longing. It was like she was living her story with someone for a second time.

She would never forget the time she met the dog. She was walking alone in her apartment, completely silly, while the two chatted on MySpace. He was kind and happy and so different from anyone else she had ever met. Gradually, she began to open up more to him, who always seemed interested in listening and praising her and making her feel good in her own skin. It was an almost addictive feeling, her head feeling light as she felt a small hope inside of her.

Conversations turned to dates, and Diane finally accepted that a celebrity was really interested in someone like her. Someone, in general, was interested in her. Yeah, it was a good thing to think about. When she realized it, she had already moved in with him and lived the ten most bittersweet years of her existence, in which she was relieved that they were over, but which she didn't regret for a second.

Things weren't so different these days, which was why she was worried. Part of her -the most selfish one- almost begged for the shooting of that shitty movie to end so that she would never have to look that labrador in the eyes again. Because she didn't know how to react anymore every time Mr Peanutbutter complimented her new hairstyle or said he missed her.

It was an old feeling. So old it fooled her into thinking it was something new. And that made her nervous.

She let her head fall back onto Guy's shoulder, who was still distracted by his messages, seeming to be having the conversation of his life. What would he do if he knew what she was thinking? She thought it was time to accept a truth about herself, letting all these feelings hurt as much as they should:

It didn't matter if she was talking about Mr Peanutbutter or Guy: she had never been a very good wife...

•∆•

Things were always easier after acceptance. This was the last phase, above all.

Now she opened the door when Mr. Peanutbutter came to visit after the shooting, greeting him with a comment or a joke. He smiled every time, his eyes glued on her and the tip of his tail flicking back and forth. In the background, she could hear Guy saying how he had prepared cookies - "with no chocolate!"

On second thought, maybe she and Guy were bored before that. The adrenaline of a new city had long since worn off, and they didn't have much to worry about outside of work. Guy had been promoted to news anchor, and Diane still had ten months to release the next volume of Ivy Tran. It was almost inevitable how long she took to write, spending most of her days boringly watching TV, walking around or dozing on the couch until her husband got home.

With Mr Peanutbutter there most nights now, she at least had new information to occupy her mind:

"Everything went wrong today, not even if we had recorded a sequel to 2012 by Roland Emmerich it would have been so catastrophic!" The dog commented as he deliberately shook his shoulders, heading to sit on the sofa (feeling as much at home as he could).

Intrigued, Diane followed, going beside him and leaning her arm on the back of the sofa.

"What happened?"

"Someone forgot to blow out the candles we were using and WE LOST HALF OF THE SET!" He explained everything by gesturing with his hands. "This should take a couple of weeks to be redone, we'll even have to delete some scenes from today because of continuity."

He would spend more time there then, wouldn't he?

"Wow, that reminds me of when we recorded Philbert" Diane smiled at the memory. "It was almost impossible to have a quiet day.”

"Speaking of Philbert," Guy joined them at that moment, taking the empty spot on the sofa and offering the pot of cookies for both, "I know nowadays the plot holes are more noticeable and some parts haven't aged well... But I'm still sad that it was canceled... And it's kind of weird knowing that I'm now together with two people who worked on the production, yeah.

"You get used to it pretty soon," Diane shrugged, taking a second bite of her cookie.

"And you know what's going to be even weirder?" Mr Peanutbutter laughed as he completed. "When you watch my new movie and realize you couldn't figure out what it was."

"That's it!? No! I still have time! Did you say candles? Something with exorcism then?"

"Nope!"

Diane rolled her eyes, enjoying her seemingly new routine.

The next day, she had helped Guy make lasagna. At the kitchen table, her husband asked:

"It's not supernatural, right? Maybe a slasher movie?"

"It's kind of supernatural, yes," Mr Peanutbutter replied, still with his mouth full.

"Are you kidding? What more options are left?"

"Think a little more~"

The following week, they'd stayed up until midnight watching a few episodes of Mr Peanutbutter's House and Horsin' Around, just laughing and talking a little about the past. Diane increasingly realized how much lighter it was to talk about such matters now, quite different from when she first moved from California. Guy was starting to pick up on their inside jokes, commenting on how Blarn had been a great idea. Diane accepted the compliment, feeling nostalgic.

That same day, the three put on a random documentary, talking until dawn. Diane only woke up—and realized she had fallen asleep in the first place—at 2:00 am, finding it kind of amusing to realize that Mr. Peanutbutter and Guy were doing the same, in a competition of who was in the most uncomfortable position. Asking the dog to go back to the hotel felt wrong, so Diane just woke Guy up and the two of them silently went to their room.

The next morning, after the mess, they had breakfast together, Mr. Peanutbutter taking one of the spare toothbrushes and changing for work in their bathroom, saying goodbye in that stupidly domestic way.

Diane's more selfish side returned, and she almost hoped something would destroy the other half of the set for whatever movie he was shooting.

•∆•

Taylor Swift's The Way I Loved You was looping in her head, and for a good reason. She couldn't fall asleep, her thoughts starting to bother her again. Then she kept saying to herself, "nostalgia is a lying bitch and you DON'T miss your life with Mr Peanutbutter. The divorce was the biggest proof of love you ever made for each other."

Yes, that was the truth. Yes Yes Yes. Now she just had to accept it.

To make her point even more clear, she forced herself to remember all the bad times they ever had. All the times he didn't listen, that infuriated her and made her feel terrible about herself and for not getting to be the wife he thought she was.

She also couldn't forget how disastrous and selfish they were together, doing what they'd done to Pickles, only to get nowhere with it.

She certainly didn't miss the fights and the thousands of nights they slept without speaking after yelling at each other.

She just thought so because everything was fine now.

She sighed, shifting her position. Unlike her, Guy was in a deep, peaceful sleep, on his back and snoring softly. Carefully, she brought the back of her hand to his cheek, lightly stroking his fur.

She still loved him. Very very very much. In a way as strong and desperate as she was when she first met him. He was kind, funny, and all the company and comfort she needed in her life.

Diane was confused, and admitting anything in her own head scared her.

But she needed to state the obvious.

She was still in love with Mr Peanutbutter, wasn't she?

•∆•

Now the way was to be angry at him, she realized. It must’ve been her brain's way of not blaming herself so much and pretending that she wasn't about to destroy her whole life all over again.

However, it got so... so difficult when he still showed up on her doorstep every time, tail wagging, another colorful coat and a bottle of expensive wine in hand.

"Something tells me that Guy is going to like it there..." She commented, a light smile involuntarily appearing on her lips.

And she was right. The three of them gathered at the kitchen table again. Diane sipped from her glass, the taste taking her years back. Mr Peanutbutter always bought that same wine for them to drink.

"Tastes like wealth," was the conclusion Guy got, and she laughed because it had been the same as hers.

She missed that, didn't she!?

They watched Hereditary. Guy tried to guess Mr Peanutbutter's movie and failed. At night, when the two were in bed, her husband murmured:

"I know that's how dogs are, but he shouldn't stick his head out the car window... It's dangerous."

Diane smiled.

If she had that routine for even one more day, she would freak out.

Fortunately, that was not what fate had prepared for her.

When she got home the next night, Guy was already there, just like usual. He sat on the sofa, however, something was wrong. She could feel it. She entered the room with some caution, trying to notice what gave her such an impression. It was even easy to know. The TV was off this time, leaving the whole environment in an intimidating silence, mixed with how Guy didn't do anything, just sat there.

When she was close enough, he began to speak:

"I've been waiting for you to arrive," his tone was hard to read. It didn't have much emotion, giving her the awful impression that he must've been rehearsing it in his head while she was gone "we need to talk about something."

Her brain stopped working, going to the past. A few years in the past. "It was good while it lasted". BoJack? BoJack had told her that phrase once, hadn't he? For some reason, it was what was repeated over and over in her thoughts.

"Okay..." She murmured, almost whispering, taking her pose as a child who was about to be scolded. She didn't have much choice but to sit next to him, avoiding eye contact for as long as she could.

She thought she was hiding it well, at least. She didn't even let herself believe that, and this was the hope she was moving forward with... apparently, she wasn't even right about that.

Now her anxiety peaked, feeling her fingertips begin to tingle.

She had almost forgotten what that felt like.

What would become of her now? Would she stay in Houston? Would she go back for another round of small, impersonal apartments? Would it go back exactly where it started, half a lifetime ago?

Or would she try to convince Guy that she could ignore it... and forget about it? - something she would genuinely like to do.

"Look, Diane, I don't even know how to talk about this," Guy continued finally, and Diane struggled to make out the words. Just like her, he didn't look in her direction, "It's going to be kind of weird, okay?"

Maybe she couldn't even stay in Houston. She wouldn't know how to handle the situation. Maybe she would have to go back to being Diane and run away to whatever other town that would accept her.

"Okay," she sighed, giving up. "I think I already know what it is."

"You know!?" He looked oddly surprised, almost scared.

Wait.

"What? What... What is it?"

The silence then returned in double. The two stared at each other, their expressions blank and not daring to speak a single word.

Diane ventured:

"Guy?'

He needed yet another few seconds to continue:

"Now I don't have the courage to talk anymore..."

"Don't you dare! What happened, Guy?"

"Nothing!" It was his turn to be defensive. "That's the case, okay? Nothing really happened and I don't mean to suggest that we should break up or anything."

"What are you talking about?"

"You have every right to be angry, but..."

"With you winding up like that, it's really hard not to be!"

"I don't think there's an easy way to say this."

Then another pause, and now that was the last straw. Diane was so nervous that she could barely feel her hands; her body sweated and she saw white:

"G..." But she was soon interrupted.

"I think I'm in love with Mr. Peanutbutter!"

What?

"What!?"

Now it looked like a challenge to who looked the most terrified, both of them looking like wild animals that would run at any sudden movement.

Diane changed position, almost getting up from the couch:

"Did you just tell me... that YOU are in love with Mr Peanutbutter?" Disproving her theory, saying it out loud didn't make it any more real. Quite the opposite.

"I thought I told you that I was bisexual and that..." He stopped mid-sentence. Normally Guy was someone easygoing and calm, traits that fit her perfectly. Guy always had solutions to any problem, making her feel like she was on the ground every time she needed to.

Now, however, it was like he was about to pass out from embarrassment.

"That's not the problem, of course!" Diane shook her head, trying to control all the trillions of feelings and speak more calmly. "With Mr Peanutbutter, my ex-husband?"

"It's as ridiculous as it sounds," he tried to smile, giving up in the next second. "I wanted to tell you because... I don't know why, it felt right. I swear I never got close to doing anything to him.... I thought you could help me - no, not that! We could think of a solution together. Or not. I don't know."

"I'm a pretty bad person for that."

"Huh?"

"Guess who's in love with Mr Peanutbutter, too?"

It was as if a switch had been flipped, the mood in the room completely changing in an instant. The silence had disappeared and given way to the laughter that now came out.

They stayed like that for a long time, laughing. So much that Diane began to suspect the obvious and how it wasn't because they found the situation funny.

After that came, of course, silence. They stared at each other, and Diane thought the last time she felt so uncomfortable around Guy was when he made her jump out the window to hide it from his son:

"And now...?"

"We admit that we are equally terrible and forgive each other...?" Guy ventured, cocking his head to the side.

"Deal!" She would like to put that behind her, for sure. "But... What about him?"

Now Guy shrugged:

"I don't know that."

They were screwed.

Of course they were.

There wasn't even a chance that this story would end well. But that wasn't the only part that concerned Diane. She felt confused, which left her mind almost blank, not knowing what to think or how to react. Almost as if her life didn't belong to her and she was just watching an episode of TV. And, in the midst of it all, she couldn't help but notice how strangely light she felt. She had gotten so used to carrying that weight that she never even imagined what she would do after that.

Without the guilt and longing, who was she now?

•∆•

Now that she could finally accept it, she let herself enjoy the good parts of the present and the past. When they said that time away from someone was sometimes necessary, they were completely right. The Mr Peanutbutter she lived with now still had all the traits that made him him: an oddly charismatic personality; always praising everyone and trying to be positive, for better or for worse; he still looked kind of distracted, as if he didn't hear her, but he ended up proving the opposite every now and then.

However, his only change was not just the whitish hairs on his muzzle that made him even more endearing: just as she noticed when she first saw him in Houston, it was as if Mr. Peanutbutter had finally matured. He never crossed the line or tried to prove himself to her. He was calmer. Nicer.

She's never forgotten that call she'd had with him one day, years ago, in Chicago. When she suggested that their relationship would probably work with them as they were at the time, Mr Peanutbutter replied that they were only the way they were because of the relationship they once had.

How he had changed. They both had, didn't they?

She asked, every time, if she was right that day. If only they could try a second time. Would everything go back to the way it was before, when the anxiety killed her knowing that they would fight again, practically daily? Or was it closer to the beginning of their relationship, where everything had that rare emotion and she started to feel like she belonged somewhere?

When Mr. Peanutbutter was at her house or they went out with him to see the city, she had to stop herself from kissing him, without saying a word. She liked to imagine that he still felt the same way, having all the same questions but choosing to ignore them for the moment.

If only things were that easy... But at least she wasn't alone. And she could tell Guy all this now, so that he would do the same with his own doubts:

"Wasn't it weird?" He questioned, turning his head on the pillow to face her. "Dating someone so famous, I mean. How did you deal with all his fans? Weren't you jealous?"

"In the beginning, I kind of was," these were such distant memories that she wasn't sure anymore "but I was winning, wasn't I? At least he never gave me the impression that he was going to cheat on me, so I stopped worrying one day."

"Wait, wasn't there something that he cheated on his girlfriend a few years ago? That pug girl, huh?"

Diane's complete silence and Guy's increasingly worried expression indicated that he was starting to connect the dots.

"Ehrrrrr promise not to judge me too much? "Diane asked, smiling sheepishly.

"WAS IT WITH YOU!? Oh dear lord, this is why you want to change the channel when she appears, it all makes so much more sense!"

"What did you think that was the reason?"

"That he had left you for her or something."

"Nah, it was after our divorce. But very close to our divorce, which must have been one of the reasons it happened, now that I stopped to think about it..."

"Diane... I think it must be time for you to tell me the whole story, no?"

"Of my ten years of marriage?"

"As much as you want to tell."

They went to sleep only hours later. Diane didn't try to hide the bad parts, figuring Guy deserved to know what he was getting into. She never thought she could be so honest with him. Maybe she really was past the stage of fear that he would abandon her if he found out who she really was. Instead, he laughed at parts of the story, and only lightly judged her when she deserved it. There was no disgust or heartbreak in his gaze, just pure interest. Obviously she didn't come close to telling everything, not even knowing if that would be possible. But at the end of it all, she was able to return to his arms until they fell asleep. Just like every day for the last few years.

Guy was here to stay.

Diane still wasn't quite used to having company at times as confusing and complicated as this one... But it was something she could get used to.

•∆•

As it was Sunday again, they took the opportunity to go out into the city. Even though it wasn't close to snowing, Houston winters were still quite cold at night. This fact always slipped her mind, until she found herself clutching her coat. She walked closer to Guy, who soon got the message and put his arm around her shoulder to warm her up more.

He had the slight impression that Mr. Peanutbutter watched the scene for a second longer than he should have, but at that point, it could just be her imagination.

The dog walked faster again, his attention going from window to window, with the same admiration of a child:

"The buildings remain my favorite part of here!" He commented, his tongue sticking out of his mouth as he turned to them.

"Aren't they going to be part of any scenery in your movie?" Guy questioned. Diane thought that if he didn't talk about it once a day, he would die. "Why haven't they closed any streets for recording yet? Since it needed to be here in Houston?"

Mr Peanutbutter hesitated a few seconds before replying:

"It doesn’t need the street itself."

"I've given up guessing which one it is, okay?"

"Ahhh Guy, come on, just think about the things you..." Then he interrupted himself, his attention being stolen by yet another shop window. Diane couldn't judge him, soon joining him to look at the clothes displayed there.

It was one of those more expensive stores that Diane suddenly had to wean herself off going to. Most of what was on the mannequins were coats and flannel shirts, all with an extra layer of fur, which could only indicate that they were warm.

"I've never seen this jacket in California, I've been wanting to buy it!" Mr Peanutbutter pointed to one in particular: jeans and a medium coppery blue. It didn't look like the clothes he normally wore, but he could easily picture him in it.

Diane had such a terrible moment when she forgot to control herself, the words just coming out of her mouth:

"I'll buy it as a gift for you!"

Guy and he stared at her at the same time, the labrador practically without reaction as he raised his eyebrows:

"You're really lovely for the offer, but I was about to buy it already."

"No!" She was insistent, knowing that now her pride was at stake. "I was wanting to give you a gift anyway," Lie "so you'll have a souvenir when you get back to Los Angeles."

It was almost imperceptible, but his smile faded a little. During that very instant, he looked…disappointed? Maybe sad. That simple demonstration made Diane's heart want to race, everything in her body telling her that she must say something, that this was her chance.

But she obviously continued in the same position, static, letting Mr Peanutbutter mumble:

"Yeah... If you insist, who am I to say no!?"

While Guy was chuckling beside her - he would certainly throw that in her face later, the two had a little personal competition on who would humiliate themselves more in front of the dog - Diane walked into the store with the two of them, only to grab the jacket from the hangers she found and pretend she didn't read the price tag that hung with it. If Guy wanted to murder her after that, it would be just as deserved. She had to thank him for being in such a good mood.

She headed to the cashier to pay, after realizing that Mr. Peanutbutter wasn't even going to try on the outfit - he and Guy had already gotten distracted and gone to another corner of the store, pointing and amused at everything. They were just looking at jeans, what was so funny?

Diane smirked as she watched the two of them, again in that stupidly domestic scene that she wanted more and more of.

Coming back to reality, she turned to the woman at the cashier - an Abert's squirrel, with her fluffy ears and all - who was glaring at her gleefully:

"Is it a gift?"

"Yes, it is," Diane smiled back, soon after choosing a package with a baseball print. She knew he would like that one.

She took out her card to pay, the squirrel cocking her head in her direction again:

"Do you know who Mr Peanutbutter is?"

"Huh?" Diane's brain apparently worked very slowly today. Or she was just very distracted, in her own thoughts. "I do!"

"It's him back there, isn't it?" She looked anxious, surreptitiously pointing to where the dog was.

Already knowing what to expect, Diane glanced around, seeing how he and Guy had already moved into another section of the store, with more colorful clothes. Picking up a purple T-shirt, Guy commented something along the lines of "I already told you that I'm bisexual?", in the most unnatural way possible, making Diane have to control herself not to laugh. Okay, now she would have a point for the conversation they would have before bed.

"Of course it's him!" Diane said to the squirrel. "He's talking to my husband."

"Serious? What? Wait, so are you... You are..."

"Diane Nguyen."

Of course, that poor saleswoman had no idea who she could be. Something she'd learned from the life of being famous enough was that you'd be almost recognizable far more often than totally.

After saying goodbye, she noticed how the squirrel followed her with her eyes while she called the two men with her hand, without having the courage to approach. It was a shame, Mr Peanutbutter enjoyed interacting with his fans.

Once outside, Diane remembered how cold it was, practically being knocked out by the wind. Imagine if she was in Chicago? She would never take it!

She then turned to Mr Peanutbutter, holding out the bag with the package:

"It doesn't have the same excitement as a surprise gift, but here it is!"

He didn't react at first, but the way he tilted his head slightly to the left, the tip of his tongue sticking out between his teeth… Yeah, he liked it. Years ago, in the midst of her despair over her doomed marriage, she read about the 5 love languages. Classic thing that everyone knows nowadays, you know? The conclusion she reached was that Mr. Peanutbutter delivered exactly his own, which he would like to get back.

An extra gift for him would be worth it, wouldn't it?

He held the package in his hands, glancing at the package and enveloping her in a sudden strong hug. He was still so warm, just the right size for her to sink her chin into the yellow fur on his neck. So familiar. So weird.

"Thank you," he said when separating, a little shy. That was new! "I'll get revenge one day for that, huh!"

"Anytime you want!"

Finally, she gave Guy a wide smile: her underhanded way of saying she'd won this time. He nodded and lowered his head, giving her the pleasure of victory.

She felt like a teenager doing that sort of thing, in a way she hadn't genuinely experienced in decades.

It was still good.

They didn't do much more than that before they parted ways. They took Mr. Peanutbutter to his hotel, where they had another rather uncomfortable farewell, where none of the three knew how to react. Just wave? Shake hands? Hug? All options were bad.

"Sooo, see you again on Monday, which means tomorrow!?" The dog opened a big embarrassed smile as he took a few steps back, pointing to both of them with his index fingers. "Oh, I just remembered. Guy, about what you told me inside the store?"

"What...?" The other looked genuinely confused.

"Forget it! It was nothing! I'll be there tomorrow night, I miss you two already!"

And so he was gone, walking into the hotel. He had fled.

Whatever it was, Diane and Guy just stood there, not daring to move.

"Diane... Do you think that us telling him would be the worst thing that could happen?"

"I don't know anymore," she shrugged, releasing all the air she had in her lungs. "I just spent $600.00 dollars on a jacket."

(Finally my knowledge of horror movies has come in handy for something!

After a few months, I finally got the inspiration to finish this chapter! Now there's only one left)

[dropout-if]

79 for my girly pops wanda pls thank yuo ❤️

Wanda + 79, “Stop hogging all the blankets!”

From this ask game!

Originally, it was Gabi’s idea—“How come I never can sleepover with my friends? Ma~ think about the blanket forts!”—and then it’s Wanda conveniently deciding she wants to convince you of the exact same idea (“[Name]~ think about the fairy lights~”).

Her puppy dog eyes are hard to resist.

The night is only the beginning of this new, more conventional adventure, and you find yourself standing behind Wanda as she hovers over Gabi’s small frame, getting her ready for a sleepover with a few of her friends from preschool—Gabi always wins when her opponent is her mother, you wish you could relate.

It always takes an ungodly amount of time for Wanda to make sure the tiny angel is ready to leave. You watch the way Gabi allows herself to be wrapped in her fuzzy pink coat, rambling (tripping over her words) about anything and everything—whether her unicorn plushie is safe and warm too in her backpack, about the new neighbor in their apartment building, how nice the cool breeze would feel, her excitement for the sleepover, does the fact that you’re staying for the night mean it’s a date or a sleepover or both?

“No, it’s neither. Mija,” Wanda pouts as Gabi fails to pay attention. She turns toward you, eyes begging for some kind of help, only to pout harder and coax Gabi to get ready “We’re going to be late~”

You intervene out of mercy, “Gabi, do you want to make Miss Rosario wait?”

“No,” the little girl sulks with an expression that is too similar to her mother’s.

The two say their goodbyes, Wanda walks Gabi to the car—looks almost tearful as she does so—and only grins brightly when she returns to your side.

“I lied!” Wanda claps excitedly, she lets out an attempt at an evil laugh “This is so exciting! We haven’t had a sleepover in forever~”

“I think Gabi already knows. About the date-sleepover.”

“And I think she has the attention span of a four-year-old,” Wanda reminds you “Come on! The fairy lights~”

Organizing anything with Wanda is exhausting—a distraction, it takes you two nearly an hour and a half to set up the blanket fort—but the reward in itself comes as you and Wanda snuggle together, cozy and warm. The glow of the lights Wanda was so insistent on casts a warm and intimate light, dancing on your faces with every little movement.

Wanda wiggles around, tugs at the blanket—the last piece that you decided to save, and so are now forced to share, “Hey, stop hogging all the blankets!”

“Blanket: singular.”

“Blanket: singular. You and I: plural,” Wanda laughs merrily “Sharing is caring and whatnot.”

You feign innocence, wrapping the singular blanket tighter around yourself, “What are you talking about? I’m just trying to stay warm here.”

Wanda gasps, narrows her eyes playfully as she inches closer, “Really? Is that so? You’re freezing over in the middle of August?” suddenly, she bursts out laughing, “I want to tease you and tell you you’re hot— but it’s too obvious.”

Spoilsport.

You chuckle nervously, your eyes meeting Wanda’s “I wouldn’t have to take the blanket if you weren’t stealing all the warmth.”

You’re close enough that you see every little shift in Wanda’s expression as her lips curve into a mischievous smile, “Oh, I see how it is.”

With a swift motion, Wanda lunges at the blanket, attempting to wrest it from your grasp. Laughter filled the air as you tussled, trying to outmaneuver the other, enjoying the fight for the sake of it, the accidental touches— Wanda was right, it’s July, but—

Amid the playful struggle, your faces draw closer. The laughter fades, you share a meaningful gaze, the world outside the blanket fort slipping away. The warmth of your closeness became more than just about the blankets. And then Wanda kisses you.

[mangora]

I feel like a glaring issue with DCAS’ character writing is that there was seemingly consideration for how a character would be changed by the end of the story, but not exactly how that change would occur or be built to.

[DCAS spoilers]

A character arc is a journey with a start and end point, and in a character-focused series like DC the story should be the entertaining journey with various pit stops building to the final destination; typically focal characters like Jake, Riya, and Ally have major arcs comprised of multiple smaller arcs, but in DCAS it seems the writers were struggling to come up with smaller lead-ups to fill the time, which made the conclusion of each major character arc feel slow for the majority of the series (since not much unique was happening before the Major Changes in each character, making it feel repetitive), and then rushed at the end, because the stakes didn’t raise 1, 2, 3, 4— they just went 1, 4.

For an example of what I’m talking about negatively— and correct me if I’m wrong because I haven’t rewatched any of the DCAS episode since they aired— Jake’s start point was as a bitter, jealous, and insecure person; his end point was becoming someone who’s confident in their relationships and in themself. However as for the middle, Jake kind of just feels bad and talks about becoming a better person before acting petty and childish each episode. While Jake made more close relationships with Aiden and Connor, and even displayed more confidence in himself during the truth telling helmet challenge that I forgot the name of, these were all isolated from each other, because at his core Jake’s behavior and worldview did not fully change until the last two episodes, as exemplified by his relationship with Ally throughout the series. I love Jake, he’s my favorite DC character, but his characterization wasn’t an uphill (or downhill) progression, it was stagnant and then randomly peaked at a 90 degree angle. His personality would run in one direction but always bounce back to where it was until it just teleported at some point and froze. While some characters do relapse on bad behavior or become corrupt over time, this usually isn’t every episode in the exact same way. It’s boring, and by doing the same thing over and over again, the payoff after such a long stretch of time could never feel rewarding— it’s doomed by format. This is an issue with most of the DCAS characters who made the merge: part of Connor’s arc was getting over Riya but this was done by having him repeatedly try and fail to get through to her before marrying a random woman; Riya’s arc was ultimately regretting the person she’s become because she’s all alone and this was shown by having her show little inklings of guilt before continuing to do bad shit for half the season before ending without any friends; Ally’s arc was learning to be confident in herself despite what other people say and this was shown by her just getting angry at how people perceive her over and over again before randomly deciding that heroism is more important and getting confidence from that. The characters form new relationships, find new goals through them sometimes, etc. but their behaviors are repetitive and their belief systems change on a dime whenever the narrative calls for it.

I think part of this issue stems from the fact that the season has such a large cast and decided to take a real rotary approach to building a story off of them. Each episode has us focus on the remaining cast like clockwork, almost as if to show us that they’re still there. And while it’s important to utilize your cast to its fullest potential and make sure they all have a role in the story to a degree, not every character needs a focus in every episode. Shows typically have ‘a, b, c’, etc. plots, not a bunch of ‘a’ plots, because it gets exhausting and confusing. It would probably work better to pick a few primary characters each episode, a few secondary, a few tertiary, whatever, and unite their storylines within the episode via some thematic element— a lesson, a gimmick, etc— and/or a shared intersection— a point at which they all converge or work with each other if they haven’t been already. This could also help flesh the relationship chart out more so the cast feels more connected, full, and realistic— it would keep the cast from feeling cliquey and break up any monotony that spawns from the long run time, and ensure that everyone gets their time to shine. This doesn’t mean necessarily do a full arc for each character, if the narrative doesn’t need a character then there’s no point in rushing a three, four, five, etc. point character arc for each and every character each episode because that’ll get exhausting and it’s not necessary, some characters barely need to change and some can be pure filler— every story needs filler. But there are definitely ways to stagger the importance of each member of your cast throughout the series in a way that is satisfying. I understand that this is a tall order; it’s hard to pick who to focus on and who not to, figure out who’s changing and who’s pretty static this episode, how to tie all of these plot threads together without it bunching into a knot— it’s time intensive and complex, so I get why it’s not done on a project with such quick turnaround, part of DCAS’ enjoyability was a consistent and quick upload schedule that allowed the community to react and theorize and keep up momentum before the next episode came out. I just feel like using these hierarchies and ‘a, b, c’, etc. plots could make episodes more memorable or entertaining and help move along arcs more smoothly, as well as make sure every plot-line is resolved instead of left to fizzle.

I also think that part of the reason that characters felt flatter this season is just because there were less like, crumbs? This is a lesser critique but I didn’t know where else to put it; I felt like the season was so focused on drama and action and one-liners that it wouldn’t give itself room to breathe in most episodes and have true, uncomplicated filler that told us more human details about the characters. Learning about a character’s unique hobbies and interests, stories from their childhood, their career and education goals, family and friends before canon, and so on really helps them feel like real people rather than archetypes. It simply gives you more to work with, and makes the characters unique. Part of why S3 Jake felt flat to a lot of people is because he doesn’t really like anything and his only stories from before the show were horribly sad. He might enjoy baking or Marvel or pop music, but even then it’s hard to tell if that’s part of his character or just the narrative speaking through Jake instead of letting Jake speak.

Also this isn’t even getting into how a lot of the characters were randomly ultra-demonized or sidelined as support— or how some character arcs were just unsatisfying. For instance, why did Ellie just decide she doesn’t need the money anymore? This wasn’t really built to on screen unless you count Ellie’s elimination, it’s not really explained why Ellie cares more for Gabby now or why their relationship is so important to her when that money has been her motivation for the whole game. I think Gabellie is cute but their relationship devoured like most of their characterization this season and I miss when they were individuals. Anyways most of this was very disorganized and feel free to disagree with me if you think I’m wrong or being too harsh, I didn’t hate DCAS but I definitely think it had some weak character writing for the most part— namely weak pacing. Not all of these points apply to every story and there are multiple ways to rewrite DCAS to change or ‘improve’ it so this isn’t the end-all be-all. It’s also worth mentioning that stories within the TD and TD fan project format are really hard to keep energized for their whole run no matter how you write them because the climax is always at the very end of the season so there’s a lot of hype to live up to and the story/characters can start to drag and so on. However I personally would’ve been more intentional about who I focus on each episode and how I break down a character arc.

[chaosfantasmic]

Links fanfic intro chapter 2!!! (YOUR STILL GAY!!😲!!)

this has a lot of plot convenience so don't come at me, also sorry if there's ooc, this is like my first time writing for Lu so I'm not exactly Shakespeare yet.

....

When wind woke up he was met with the blinding light of the sun on his face

Also he was also on someones....back? what was going on-

"Oh, your awake! That's probably a good sign considering how banged up you were when I found you last night."

Wind shrieked and jumped, making the mysterious person almost drop him on the grass

"hey your alright I'm not gonna hurt you, your safe, were in Persephone woods and I'm taking you to Tari Takii town to see a healer, your safe ok?" The person reassured him

Now that it was daytime wind could get a better look at the person, though not at there face considering there mouth was covered by a face mask and the rest of them was covered by a hood.

"Buuut you still probably are pretty confused, but that's expected considering you were probably half asleep when I found you, well if I'm gonna be transporting you I'd better tell you my name first, I'm... Sapphire, and....yours?" sapphire as wind now knew them as, asked

"I'm.... Wind." He muttered, still not fully awake and slightly dazed

"Ook well wind your names a little funky but don't worry your safe with me!" Sapphire said as he walked along the forest floor, hopping over the occasional tree stump or overgrown root

Wind had to admit, this Persephone woods or whatever sapphires had called it, was actually really pretty, there were little white blue and red birds flying about, animals and squirrels racing around the trees, which had light green and yellow flowy leaves that hung down, some even had flowers growing on them.

they sat in silence for a few minutes, nothing but the occasional crunch of a leaf under sapphires feet would interrupt it.

..

"Were you the random guy who found me last night, and made the fire?" Wind asked

"Oh yea that was me, yea you were lookin pretty rough when I found you, its a good thing I did too, otherwise the Bokoblins would've gotten to you first, the Persephone woods are dangerous at night" Sapphire grimaced

A place as peaceful as this, dangerous? The sailor thought

"I thought I was dead, when I saw you I thought I was hallucinating!" Wind explained, that got a laugh out of sapphire

"Yea well once we get you on over to Tarii you'll be alright, the Medic there's Mr. Artemis he'll fix you right up, you'll might be stuck in bed for a day or two but you'll be alright." Sapphire chirped happily

"Yea...." Wind said, a slight hint of sadness lingered in his voice

"You sound sad, is there something bothering you?" Sapphire questioned, halting to a stop as he looked back at the sailor, a concerned look on his face

"It's just..

*how the hell do I tell him? Oh yea I have 7 older brothers and a dad we was in another fucking dimension and I got a really shitty concussion and a assy portal opened and I landed in the middle of the fucking woods*

"My brothers, we were...in a fight and got separated, and that's when you found me in the woods, I just wanna know if they're ok." Wind said

"Yknow there probably thinking the exact same thing right now, there out there somewhere looking for you." Sapphire said reassuringly

"I just...I hope I can see them again, wherever they are." He sighed

Sapphire smiled softly "well I think they'd be happy to know there brothers in good hands."

"Yea...me too." Wind said

He felt better, his head still hurt but at least he wasn't at rick of dying of severe blood loss, this sapphire guy, he was....strange to say the least but surprisingly comforting, he didn't feel quite comfortable putting his life in the hands of a complete stranger, if he had learned anything from his time on the sea its that you can't trust anyone, but sapphire had been nothing but kind to him, surely he wouldn't magically betray him? And sapphire wasn't a pirate like he was, he was a seemingly normal guy in fact, the sailor decided he'd trust him for now, and if he felt like betraying him, well that was his own fault.

....

they walked in silence for about another half hour, Wind could feel himself drift off again, he could see the sunset through the peeks of the trees, the birds had begun to settle in there nests and the squirrels no longer scampered across the thin branches. He shut his eyes and prepared to let sleep overtake him once again

Until he heard a call off in the distance

"WIND!"

Fuck sleep, wind thought his head immediately shot up, making sapphire jump a little at the sudden movement, could it really be

Sure enough, out of the corner of his eye he could see the blue of warriors scarf, twilights pelt, times armour-, he knew he wasn't hallucinating this time, that he knew for a fact, was his family

Sapphire noticed "I suppose those are your brothers then huh?" He asked, Wind nodded eagerly

Sapphire set him down against a tree

"Well, I guess my work here is done then, glad I could help you out a little." He said, as he stood up, and started to walk off into the forest

"Stay safe out there!" Sapphire said as he gave him one last smile

And just like that, he was gone, faded into the trees.

...

"Sailor! Are you all right, are you ok, I thought we'd never find you." Time said as he out his hands on winds shoulders

the captain laughed "aww look at the old man, being a mom again."

"oh shut up wars you act like you weren't up crying all night!" Legend said

Wars fake gasped "this is PERSONAL!"

Everyone was so caught up in the fact that there brother was alive and well, they didn't notice the setting sun looming over the trees

"Yknow we should probably find some place to set up camp soon, it's getting late." Sky said as he pointed to the sky (haha get it)

And so they were off, off into this Hyrule for however long Hylia decided they would.

Little did wind Know, it would not be his last encounter with Sapphire, but that would have to wait

....

Yea the ending is literal dog shit I literally did not know what to put I promise I'm not a bad writer pls keep reading

[greeksorceress]

the thought and care he has put into methodically plan out this day is nothing short of laughable. the very same day he learned about rhaenyra’s departure to dragonstone, he started calculating how the reencounter would go.

aemond has spent years of his life now imagining his first meeting with his half-sister’s second son after the younger boy took his eye and his sanity with him. he has seen himself patiently waiting for the inevitable family reunion, holding his want for revenge long enough to have lucerys sleeping soundly in his bed and aemond attacking him in the middle of his dreams. 

fast and dirty and treacherous, just like lucerys himself acted upon him that night.

sometimes, the ire and resentment that threaten to rot him from the inside are enough for aemond to forget about any meticulous plan and just ride vhagar to dragonstone and burn it to the ground, like the madman lucerys has made of him. 

his favourite fantasy, however, doesn’t even revolve around him specifically, no. his most treasured daydream features his father caring for him like the parent he’s supposed to be and not the king who chooses favourites, demanding rhaenyra to handle what is owed to viserys’ second son. 

aemond is not stupid, though. he knows the last one of these confabulated possibilities is the most unlike to work for him, for nothing has ever been handed to him freely and effortlessly before. aegon has the name and the position to get him the things he wants, and also the things he doesn’t —but that aemond desperately needs—, and if it had been his older brother, he’s sure there would had been more repercussions for rhaenyra’s bastard. but he’s the second son, the spare, the one who isn’t granted neither love nor justice and just serves the purpose of standing in the shadows until he’s needed. 

still, he hopes.

 (hoping has never got him far, either.)

aemond knows the corridors and the secret passages of the red keep by heart. he has memorised the names and faces of the guards and their schedules and knows when both servants and royalty are supposed to be in bed. so, it’s easy to imagine lucerys trapped under his power and will if he were ever to come back to the castle. it’s always the first option with aemond, anyways, because who’s he if not a perfectionist —second sons don’t get the chance to be anything but—.

and then the day comes. helaena and aegon get married and lucerys comes back home to attend to the wedding. 

“i’m tired, mother. i shall see you in the morrow”, he tells her before departing himself from the festivity, noticing that rhaenyra’s children have already retired.

aemond has mapped out the exact path he’s following, years and years of submerging himself amongst the darkest corners of the keep finally paying off. he’s going to wait for the change of guard, and he knows everyone else will be wasted and high on wine and celebrations, having no intention of paying attention to any children that should be sleeping by now. the dagger he has chosen for this specific moment —he took two years to decide, but ended up electing the same that sliced through his own eye, because it seems that he’s a sentimentalist too— is safely secured under his belt.

he moves behind the tapestry dedicated to visenya that hides the almost invisible opening of the tunnel connected to the room that used to be jacaerys and lucerys’, the one currently inhabited by just the second boy, and only needs to take a swift look around the room to locate lucerys velaryon —strong, bastard, bastard, bastard— by the windowsill.

whatever aemond had planned for this moment dies before it’s even birthed. 

the moon shines on lucerys’ alabaster skin, illuminating his face and his doe eyes. he’s looking up toward the west wing of the keep, his cheeks resting atop his hands and his elbows firmly supporting his weight against the wooden rail of the windowsill. 

aemond knows what lucerys is contemplating, for his very own chambers are located in that exact wing. it shakes aemond to his core, because lucerys isn’t observing aemond’s territory with fear, keeping himself awake in a kind of a night shift in order to guard his own safety. no. lucerys is looking at aemond’s window, almost in a perfect diagonal line to this very room, with an expression that doesn’t take much for aemond to pinpoint and recognise.

lucerys’ eyes are wide and glassy, and his gaze is absolutely dreamy. he looks like he wants, like he longs, just like aemond does when viserys ignores him or mother and grandfather offer aegon something that aemond has been craving for longer, harder. he’s looking at the tower like a lover in one of the old poems that the maesters made them all learn, sighing and huffing as if his small heart cannot take the distance. like aemond looks at vhagar, or the iron throne from time to time. like aemond looked at viserys when he informed them that rhaenyra and her children were coming home. 

lucerys is glowing, there’s no better word for it, and aemond cannot stop looking. he laments his lost eye, and for the first time not because of fury. he wishes he had the full capacity on himself to completely soak in and burn this candid moment that lucerys is unaware he’s providing. he wants to remember how red lucerys’ lips are, and how many little dots complement his nose and cheeks. he wants to remember his sweet sighs, and the wind ruffling his curls. 

but more than anything, aemond wants to remember the look on his eyes. 

why lucerys would look at anything related to aemond with such longing escapes aemond’s mind, but it matters not. he’s looking at aemond like that, indirectly and secretly, but he’s doing that, and something hot and possessive blooms in his chest, as if he had been branded by scalding iron. he wants lucerys to always look at him like that, to look at aemond’s eye and face with the same need.

lucerys is more of an angel than he’s a human, like a vision materialised on earth to save aemond’s soul. aemond wants to consume him, wants to be saved and damned by that boy. 

the knife is heavy in his pocket, and it’s truly laughable how easily he has forgone his thirst for revenge and has replaced it with devotion. his resolve has crumbled, but he has forged his destiny. he knows it, he can feel it settling under his skin like an organism.

he doesn’t leave until lucerys is tucked under his covers and is finally succumbing to a deep slumber. he has been baptised, and he has a new god to worship —didn’t his own mother say that he was prone to obsession? what else could he do when he’s been provided with the representation of faith in flesh and bones?—.

aemond goes to sleep with a new resolution.

he wakes up when the sun is yet to be up, throat raw from screaming, the taste of the rain and the fire and the blood of a chase that was never meant to be heavy on his tongue. 

[manjiroscum]

BAD APPLE

Character/s: sea serpent god!Hajime Kokonoi

Warnings: f!reader, explicit sex, mature language, monsterfucking, koko has two dicks in his half-human form, koko shape shifts a lot + he also has a forked tongue, reader almost drowned twice, breeding, strange marriage/mating rituals, creampie, tummy bulging, double penetration, oviposition, anal penetration, and use of pet names. Minors do not interact.

Note: thank u to @thicksimpx for entertaining this thought of mine 💚

Synopsis: The sea serpent god entertaining the silly whims of a mortal was not something historians would write about.

WC: 4.9k

Blood money. There was no other motivation you could come up with for the bastard who pushed you off your family’s yacht as a storm brewed up on the horizon after wounding you with a knife to the gut. Fatal it is to be in frigid harsh waters in the middle of the night while your stomach bled for the sharks to mark you as their next poor soul to feast upon. But contrary to anyone’s belief of you being oblivious to such circumstances, your family’s immense wealth was a subject of everyone’s envy back home. Unaware of the horrendous deeds committed by your father to achieve such a feat. Having known that, you were expecting someone to jump you while your guard was at its lowest, especially when you came out here to forget and clear your head after the recent attacks on your ailing father. Bless his poor soul but damning it suited far better for it was his rash actions that led you here, drowning in the ocean seeking anything to cling your hands on to stay afloat.

Damn him for remarrying an evil bitch that loved his possessions and money more than saving his soul from the eternal fires of hell. Damn him for naming you the sole heir to all his fortunes, making you a target of jealous green eyes. Damn him for becoming a mafia leader than listening to your mother’s warnings of such a life.

Fuck the ocean for opening the gates to everlasting damnation where you were sure to go, losing the will to live as rain and saltwater assaulted your lungs. Nails dug into air and water as your body slowly made its descent. It was horrifying, figure thrashing around while your lungs continued to struggle for oxygen and blood leaving your system faster than a sinking ship. Cold, it was fucking cold but you didn’t have the strength to even hug yourself in a pathetic move to keep the warmth in your flesh. Thoughts of death and the faces of your loved ones flashed before your eyes like a cliche film, except it was your life, not a character in the movie you either hate or love. Acceptance—you had a hard time accepting that the bubbles escaping your mouth were remnants of the last breath you took. Soul begging for this all to be just another dream you could wake up from and laugh about to your friends.

Yet, it wasn’t—this was as real as it can get.

Golden irises that were about the size of the yacht stared at your helpless body from below. Tonight should have been an ordinary night for the serpent god of the seas, swimming and catching prey to alleviate his hunger. In fact, he should be retreating back to his home to avoid those submarines that often came by. Yet, he was curious. Humans swimming freely in the ocean at night, let alone in a storm, was a rare occurrence. Who would be stupid to do that? But when his eyes were quite sure it was indeed a powerless mortal about to die in his waters and not mere waste, his claws moved faster than he liked. This wasn’t him at all, hurrying back to his cave to breathe life back into a feeble mortal’s body. To care for the same beings who continued to pollute and cause disturbances in his territory was stupid, even for Hajime.

And yet, the exact eyes that watched annoying divers and mechanical objects with contempt were the same ones that softened in relief once color started returning to your lips. Chest rising and falling, oxygen making itself at home in your lungs once more. The wound on your abdomen closed up completely, leaving only traces of blood on the ground and on your clothes. The realization he brought you to his cave filled with the achievements of his conquests from thousands of years ago, ones the bothersome humans were searching high and low for, had the sea serpent god frown in deep thought. He wondered how on earth could he return you back to your kind immediately.

He then shifted to his smaller form. The sea serpent god emerged from the water to slither towards your still unconscious form. Water dripped from his silver locks and down to his sharp nails that reached out to push back the hairs that stuck to your face. Gaze lingering on your facial features, particularly the curves of your lips, Hajime couldn’t help but think that you’re too beautiful to be a mere human. Index finger grazing your lower lip, he felt his whole body freeze when you stirred. Still, you didn’t flutter your eyes open to which he was grateful. Those who have seen his real form or even just the one where his lower body is a huge tail instead of the legs most humans are accustomed to seeing were far too afraid to utter a word. He won’t be surprised if you acted the same way.

Him keeping you here was out of the question, but he couldn’t just bring you back up to the surface where the storm was raging—you’ll just die even after he took all the trouble in keeping you from meeting your final end. He can’t have that. Surely, he could get you back to the surface after the storm has subsided and before you wake up to see him… Hajime must make sure of it.

However, even for a god such as he, time was one he had no power over. And just like time, he was often tempted by his carnal desires, powerless to its whims. Enticed to veer from the path and choices he religiously followed in order to live in a world amongst humans. He figured he had gotten rid of such a need long ago after his choice to never interact with humans. And yet, he found himself following that temptation instead—the evidence of it was your presence in his cave despite days having passed since you were tossed onto the sea. By the gods, did you have to be such an adorable pretty thing?

“Haji, could I try this on?”

Whether it’s a curse or a blessing, Hajime knew he always had a good eye for character or seeing the worth of an object like how he knew the diamond necklace you were holding up would be more than enough to feed a whole town back in the land from which you came from. You knew this, too. However, he will never admit out loud that the sweet smile you flashed him, on the other hand, outweighed every gold’s worth.

“There’s no need to ask.”

Never had he phantom that you would still be down here, with him, talking to a god as if he were just a friend. Weeks ago, you were close to drowning once more in order to escape, but now… it was such a huge contrast to the first meeting that he sometimes found himself gazing at you in disbelief whenever you weren’t looking. Snake eyes followed your figure as you made yourself at home in his abode.

Because who in their right mind would prefer the company of a monster over their own?

But he had to give himself credit somehow for letting such a strange friendship bloom in the depths of the ocean. After all, you weren’t as cordial back then. It was foolish of him to entertain the thought you’d react somewhat differently to who he was once you realize he saved you. Whenever he thought back on it had the sea serpent god shaking his head.

Alive. You were definitely alive. Coughing the leftover seawater out of your throat, you gradually felt your pounding heart revert back to its normal pace. Body sitting up, the first thing you did other than check your non-existent wound was how on earth you got to this cave? Weren’t you just feeling the clutches of death biting down on your soul, ready to cart you off to the afterlife? How did you live? And if you were to go back home, is there even a way out of here? These questions continued to run through your mind as you stood up, glancing at every sound that echoed in the huge cave from the water dripping down stalactites to fish moving in the water that surrounded what seemed to be a small island you were now standing on. To your right was a passage, one you couldn’t figure out whether it was going up or down. It was too dark to tell. Bioluminescent planktons illuminated the surface of the water but were not bright enough to shed light on what was lurking below the water which seemed to be a hundred meters deep. Perhaps even deeper than that.

“Fuck, am I gonna swim out?” Mumbling to yourself, you circled the island to find any part where you could step on shallow water yet found none. A splashing noise caught your ear, head whipping to where it was. All that greeted you was the movement of water, no sign of whatever made it. Hairs on the back of your neck stood, legs taking you further to the side in a retreat. There was no way you could’ve gotten to this place all alone, that’s for sure. Whatever made that sound, it was still here. And whatever it was, it wasn't human. “Shit. W-who…?”

Hajime was sure you would faint the moment his torso made an appearance, keeping his lower scaly half in the water as he raised a brow at your stunned state. Silence was shared between you two until you took another step back, lifting a finger at him.

“Y-you, how did you get here” Eyes wide, your whole form was shaking under the weight of his curious stare. “What are you? Why have you brought m-me here?”

“I supposed I don’t have to explain much, huh?” The sea serpent god puffed out a breath of air at the way you flinched at the sound of his voice echoing in the cave as if he already dealt damage to your being when he barely moved a muscle. But he supposed your fears were justified. Mortals are afraid of the unknown, minds too little to grasp and comprehend it. It was up to him to educate you, that if you did no wrong towards him, you had nothing to fear at all.

“What?”

“It’s better to show than tell.”

Hajime should have been more sensitive, revealing the entirety of him—from his scaly emerald tail slithering towards you to the way his enthralling eyes reminded you of a serpent stalking its prey out of those animal documentaries you often found yourself binging in order to sleep, except this time you were experiencing it in real time. Everything about him was intimidating, dangerous, and one who’d easily kill you by a flick of his finger. He was quite massive, towering over your tiny stature. The shuddering gasp you exhaled wasn’t merely a fraction of the terror swimming in your gut at the close proximity of the huge sea serpent god who was over nine feet tall. And yet, your legs moved faster than your brain could comprehend. You bolt to the waters instead of the winding passage towards even further darkness that you can’t gamble your life with unless you wanted to be cornered. You risked swimming in the salty water that resembled a void, all to escape the strange beast.

Lungs and muscles burning, it was no surprise you eventually tire yourself in swimming further below the depths. Stubbornness and fear were your friends in this endeavor, the rational part of your mind screaming at you to go back—to find another way out or beg the creature for your release than to swim and drown. But it was too late to back out now. You were quite sure death was going to claim you as the last breath of air betrayed you and surfaced to the top in bubbles. Left to the swirling thoughts of dread until you felt something coil around your body, steadily bringing you up. It was when you were able to breathe oxygen freely again that you came to the truth the sea serpent god has saved you from a watery grave—again.

You didn’t even thank him yet.

“Foolish human. Do you badly want to die?” he groaned, shaking his head at the way you were shivering. Attempts to warm yourself by hugging your own. Truly, it was a pathetic sight, and yet, Hajime couldn’t stop the way his icy heart that he deducted to have stopped beating for years throbbed at the way you stared at him with glassy doe eyes. Did you know how disarming you were right now? “If you want to live, you should obey my rules for this is my territory. Am I understood?”

The melodic tone of your voice calling out his name snapped Hajime out of his trip down memory lane, pupils focusing on your concerned expression that morphed into one filled with glee when he moved to grab the necklace and put it around your neck himself. Snake eyes gazing at the diamond glinting under the fire’s warm flickering light. The image of you lying next to all his treasures was enough to render him speechless. Because you looked good, far too exquisite next to all his valuables as if you made yourself at home. Maybe if you wore nothing but that diamond necklace or any of his other gold and gems, rid of any ties to the human world, Hajime would be convinced of that.

Hauntingly beautiful in the things he owns—to be his for good.

He shouldn’t let such a treacherous impulse cloud his judgments, especially since you were human no matter how much he wanted to flip the world upside down to twist that truth. Mortals were far too fragile to linger forever like he does, having known this fact and suffering the aftermath of losing to it one time. Plus, you weren’t exactly here by choice, but by circumstance. Supposed you had the option to leave immediately as you came, Hajime would have observed from afar as you reunite with your kind.

“So… you’ve been here for… what? A thousand years?”

“Yes, human,” Hajime answered while picking up what were remnants of a coconut tree’s trunk. He found these floating above, especially after a storm. It was luck giving you a favor. Never did he have the need to make fire, preferring the coolness of the cave. Since you were here, he made it his mission to collect the damp wood and wait for it to dry up so you could warm yourself or cook the fish he brought. “I’ve been here for years—a testimony of my godly powers.”

“That’s awesome.”

But curse his heart for beating far too loudly at the soft touch of your hand against his bare forearms or chest, sometimes by accident, but often times not. You were quite fond of skinship, that he could tell. Initiating cuddles or wanting to alleviate your flesh from how warm his cave could sometimes get by lounging on his huge tail. The thick scales never bother you, despite how they rubbed against your smooth skin whenever you requested him to coil around you. Or the way you try and persuade him to accompany you to the other cavern where he stores away his treasure, disguising your intentions to talk to him more by asking when and where he got the certain artifact or gem. He’ll never forget how you asked to see and feel his fangs if they were as sharp as the legends would say. Even requesting to see his true form which he turned down because there was no way he’d fit and wreck his home in the process. In a span of seven days, Hajime knew you and learned your quirks, aided by his endless knowledge and sharp eyes.

He knew this wasn’t right—having you stay by his side. It won’t be long before you grew more attached, enough not to leave. Hajime can’t have that.

You didn’t belong here.

The sea serpent god broke this news to you the next day after watching you play with the water, legs dipping into it. It broke the serene expression you had into one of confusion and hurt that you failed to mask.

“Tomorrow, you’re going back to the surface.”

“D-did I do something wrong?”

He shouldn’t feel awful for doing this, but he supposed a god can feel this way when the very thing that has brought more happiness to him is about to slip past his fingers of his own volition.

But this was for the best.

“No. That is what should’ve happened the moment the storm passed.”

Hajime foreseeing you straddling him after eating the last dinner you two would share, however, was something he never saw coming. To see the future was a gift he had never tapped into since then. He wished he did now. Taken aback by your bold move when you were casually lying next to his tail as you did on any other night, humming to yourself while he watched the flames of the fire dance, waiting for it to die out. Normally, you would have fallen asleep by then—not doing… this.

“What are you doing?”

Lips parting, the rehearsed statement you had in your arsenal since he announced your ascent back to the world above was completely useless. Eyes observed the way his brows pinched then arch when you failed to answer his inquiry. Honestly, what were you doing? You should be minding your own business and catch sleep rather than trying to feel less lonely. Cheeks hot in embarrassment, you made a move to get down but his hand held you in place. Palm big enough to cover your face whole cupped your cheek, forcing you to gaze back at him.

“Well?” he prodded further, refusing to let you go until you said what was in your mind. This was the least he could do before you leave. You were really leaving tomorrow, huh… Hajime didn’t want you to. He wishes he could tell you that, selfishly having you remain. Still, someone had to be realistic. He can’t keep you down here forever.

“Haji, I don’t want to leave. I want to stay here… with you.”

It has been a month. You have been counting the days since you fell into the sea and were rescued by him. And since then, you were getting along better with Hajime than any other human whom you have encountered in your whole life. Frankly, no human was as good to you as the sea serpent god has treated you despite the short time you’ve spent together. Your father was hardly present nor did he ever stop to think whether his second wife was kind to you or not. There wasn’t anything worth coming back to up there. For all you know, you were probably pronounced dead. To go back would be like entering hell once more. The cave may be a far cry from the luxury you were used to back in land but it was more of a haven than any penthouse or fancy hotel the humans could offer.

Hajime frowned then sighed at your words.

“No—”

“Please!” Lower lip quivering, your hands came up to squeeze his shoulders. You hope to convey how serious you are about your decision. “Haji, I’ve told you back then that someone was tasked to murder me, leading me to meet you that faithful day. It may not have been a pleasant first meeting, but I can assure you, I don’t give a fuck about whatever reason you conjured up in your mind that leads you to believe I’m better up there than here with you. You going back would just lead to more horrific scenarios to befall me.” Hearing no response from the god, you continued. “I like you and I know you feel the same way. Don’t lie to me. You would’ve killed me or left me to die if you truly wanted to. You did say you hate humans, but you’ve been nothing but kind. Far kinder than any fuckin’ human I’ve ever met, I’ll tell you that. Please, just let me stay here.”

“[Y/N]... You might be mistaking the way you feel for love,” Hajime muttered, gaze dropping to avoid your intense stare that urged him to give in. “Humans and I… we’ve never got along. But I’m not that heartless to have you stuck down here—”

“Hajime…” The sea serpent god glanced up to meet your teary gaze, his dark irises reflected the swirling of the flames’ golden hues. You fought back a sob as the tears started to drip down your cheeks. Heart aching at how he easily deduced your true feelings as something born out of loneliness. Maybe it was forged from that, but you knew deep down you did like the sea serpent god. Enough not to go back to where you belonged. Palms cupping his face, you leaned close, inches away from meeting his lips. Lips whispering in such a haunting tone that the god figured you were definitely temptation reincarnated in the flesh, out to alter his principles. “Do you really not feel anything for me? At all? If you do, kiss me… And if you don’t, I’ll go back. Do you… want me to go?”

Whether he should laugh at the foolish humans who wronged you or curse their names for inflicting unseen wounds on your heart, Hajime realized that no matter what he chooses, it was due to them that he met you—akin to a desert rose in this barren oasis.

For that, he was grateful.

Forbidden. That was what you tasted like the moment Hajime kissed you, forked tongue exploring every nook and cranny of your mouth. At any other time, he should be playing the role of the devil—seducing you to remain in this place for his own greediness to have you all for himself. But Hajime was the poor soul ensnared by your bewitching charms, falling into the hands of a temptress such as you, to break his own vows in order to protect not only you but himself as well.

A god enchanted by a mere mortal.

“Haji—ah, I love you. I really, really do.”

Mouth moaning against the shell of his ear, your hips moved on their own, rubbing your clothed sex against him. His sharp nails dug into the plush of your thighs, fighting back the urge to just have his way with you. But maybe that’s what you wanted, removing the dress you wore that night—the last thread of connection you had with the human world. The sea serpent was sure he could die out of joy right here, right now. To bask in the image of your beautiful curves and tits that bounced with every hump and grind. Naked and pliant, all for him.

“My jewel, hold on,” Hajime groaned, pressing a hot kiss against your neck where your pulse was before halting you. A bit dazed, drunk on lust, you met his lips once more then giggled softly at the god muttering how impatient you are. He held your head, the tone of his voice was solemn once he spoke. “Before I claim you as mine, are you sure about this? About… staying here?”

You nodded, quite sure.

Hajime couldn't help but smile softly at the lack of hesitation.

“I’m going to mark you now. You can’t back away anymore. Betraying me would be equal to death and the same shall be my fate if I were to… And from then on, you won’t wear or possess anything that isn’t mine. The clothing you shall wear down to the food you eat, everything shall come from me and only me. None from the humans who have forsaken you. No one shall ever harm or speak ill of you again. Having heard this, would you still let me have you?”

“I’m gonna be… your mate?” The teasing hum and grin caused the god’s eyes to widen for a moment which then soften as he let out a soft laugh at your words, running his fingers through the silver strands of his hair and grazing the shaved part. Taking your hand into his, Hajime pressed his lips against the knuckles. Heart fluttering at the affection.

“Wife, my jewel. You’ll be my wife.” His lips pecked at yours before he went on. “After I claim you as mine, I’ll have you bathe in nothing but gold and riches. Be the mother of my children and you won’t have to worry about anything. All the best for you. Anything for you.”

Who would be able to resist such adoration from a god? Certainly not you. Head on his shoulder, you whimpered at the touch of his fingers grazing your clit. His scaly lower body is cold yet soothing on your ass cheeks. It would certainly be a miracle if he managed to prepare your cunt into taking his huge and long cock that slapped his stomach every time he tried to rub it against your ass while the other girthier one was sliding against your pussy lips. He was certainly blessed with two impressive lengths that you fear won’t fit. Both of the heads were weeping with pre-cum. The cocks throbbed and twitched every time you let out a whine. Hips thrashing to the way his fingers played the bundle of nerves.

Fuck, would you be able to fit two?

“Jewel, hah… Want to be in you…”

Guess you had to literally fuck around to find out.

“Haji—shit, I’m ready. F-fuck, inside me, please!” Just as you were expecting the girthier cock to split your gummy walls, you hissed when the other slipped inside and parted your pussy lips. Hajime groaned, burying his face into your neck as his cock’s tip immediately hit that spot that had your jaw dropping. Fucking like feral animals in heat was the best way to describe what proceeded. His groans and choked gasps mingle with your breathy and high-pitched ones. Cunt bouncing on his cock, you mewled at the easy climb to ecstasy. However, while your brain was fogged up with lust and how your walls were being molded into the shape of the god’s cock, Hajime was holding back on biting your neck, to sink his fangs into you.

He had to wait—wait for you to come undone before he could claim you. It was less painful that way.

“H-Hajime, oh fuck, I-I’m gonna cum!” Lips in an ‘o’, your nails dug deep into his hands, raking down that should have anyone wincing in agony. But not Hajime. Not the god who will become your husband. “Ah, ah—shit!”

Good thing he doesn’t have to wait too long.

The second he felt your cunt squeeze him tight, Hajime sunk his fangs into your neck where your pulse was erratically beating. A silent scream fell from your agape mouth, unable to differentiate whether it was out of pleasure or the sting that ran through your neck and down to your collarbones. It burns—you were sure your flesh was burning from where Hajime bit you, his forked tongue licking the punctures in an attempt to ease the wound. But that was pointless, not when he pushed you down, easing his other cock into your other puckered hole.

“H-holy shit!”

Full was how you felt, having Hajime’s two cocks inside of you. The pain and the euphoria all mixed together that rendered you in a drunken stupor. Voice screaming Hajime’s name, you sealed the deal that it would only be the name you shall utter in the throes of passion forever as he marked your flesh. Your second orgasm was nearby when the sea serpent god pulled out his fat cock from your ass, rubbing it twice as he whispered into your ear. He hoped you weren’t delirious to a point you wouldn’t take note of the words he was about to say.

“I’m gonna put it in now—ah, want you to have my brood.” You hissed as his other cock pushed into your pussy with the other. Hajime swore you were heaven incarnate with the way you took him in so well. “I’m gonna breed you, wife.”

“Y-yes, yes, yes! Breed me, Hajime. Oh fuck, impregnate me. Lemme have your babies.” Filthy requests poured out of your lips like it was second to breathing, frantically meeting his thrusts halfway no matter how it sometimes stung. Eyes rolling back, you swore you could feel him on your throat, hand pressing against the bulge on your stomach that appeared every time he pistoned inside. Your cheeks are warm and damp. Everything seemed like a dream and no one would ever believe such a dirty one if you were to tell a soul what happened here. From the way you felt something round slide into your womb once Hajime shot his fertile cum to whimpering on his chest in the aftermath of Hajime breeding your womb by giving you a dozen of his eggs. The thick cock of the sea serpent god was tucked back into the slit that housed it, except for the other one that continuously pumped thick loads of semen into your abused pussy. Hajime cooing and giving your head chaste kisses whenever you trembled in his hold. Lips giving extra attention to the bite mark that was still pulsing.

“Rest up, my jewel,” Hajime whispered near your fluttering eyelids that were about to close out of exhaustion. “I shall wake you up if I need to pump your womb full of my cum again. That way, we can guarantee that the little ones will come out healthy and safe soon.”

🎐taglist: @ranilingus @wakaslut @meganemoon @eroscastle @tobidabio @zuuki @chloee0x0 @leavemealonebutinpink @kamisoria @festive @keijisprettygirl @httphaitani @marism @stffychn @blueparadis @tokyometronetwork @sanoinc @bxnten

[eviesaurusrex]

“ᴇᴠᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ʀᴇꜱᴛ.” | ꜱ. ꜱᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇ

Doctor Stephen Strange x Surgeon!Reader

summary: What about seducing your workaholic boyfriend Stephen to a snack, a cuddle and massage session and neck kisses, cause he NEEDS a break and some love?

word count: 3.3k

warnings: workaholic behavior, stress, exhaustion, fluff, curse words, mentions of smut at the very end

author’s note: This is another request I’m really looking forward to write! Have fun :3

Sighing deeply, YN pushed open the door to leave the scrub-in room of OR 3 while pulling the cotton cap off her head. A long yawn escaped her opened mouth which she hid behind the unlocked tablet, and strolled over to the nurse's desk right opposite the OR schedule and heavily leaned against the wood. The tablet found its spot in front of her so she could quickly finish up the surgical report to be added to her patient's file, so she could finally have her breakfast break at a decent time for the first time in months. She loved her job, really, she did, but sometimes she hated it with her entire being. Not the part where she could help people with her vast knowledge and skills, but the part where her pager constantly woke her up in the middle of the goddamn night, even though she wasn't even on-call. But being the head of a department brought its consequences which rarely were gradually positive.

"Doctor LN!"

Groaning, the called surgeon propped her elbows on top of the nurse's desk and started to massage her temples with the tips of both pointer and middle finger.

"Stop shouting as if a helicopter is right next to you in the middle of departure," she scolded one of the interns - ducklings, as most of the attendings called them - but took the brought coffee nonetheless. "Sorry, Doctor LN." He seemed crushed, and YN sighed a second time within the last few minutes. "Whatever. What's on it today?" Even though she stepped into this hospital five hours ago, she hadn't started with her usual duties in the slightest. The next long day ahead of her was something she loved but envied at the same time, and this feeling of utter conflict in her mind wasn't very pleasant. "The ER paged you for a council, Doctor Macy-..." YN took a sip of her coffee before snapping her fingers and pointing one in his direction as a thought occurred. "PEDs, right?" The intern nodded. "Yup! She wants a second opinion on her CF patient and specifically requested you." It didn't surprise her because, during her med studies, YN had published a paper about cystic fibrosis - as one of the youngest in her field of studies. Her future research had recently gotten the approval of the FDA, and as soon as the funds were here, she could finally start to find a (long-lasting) cure.

While her intern for today rambled over more points on their agenda - she already had forgotten his name, but that was the case with every newer face in her life - her gaze shifted back to the OR schedule, which had just got updated for the next upcoming surgeries. And something on it didn't quite fit with her.

"Are you fucking kidding me."

It wasn't a particular question, just a shoutout, an expression of her thoughts and feelings at this exact moment.

Her eyes moved over the whiteboard again, looking for the one name in question, and the displeased expression on YN's face deepened even more, if that was still possible. She put the barely half-drunken coffee cup next to her tablet, the report still not written. "Go ahead and tell them I will be in the pit in a couple of minutes for that council," was all she said before the cardiothoracic surgeon grabbed the bunched-up cap from the desk and crossed the hallway with a purpose and mission in mind.

"Is everything alright, or do we have to prepare ourselves for the biggest earthquake this century has seen so far?" Doctor James Chamberlain asked the confused intern while Doctor Nicodemus West cackled behind his tablet. "Someone is in trouble," he almost sang, and James laughed snortingly, sitting with half of his bottom on the nurse desk's edge. "He can count himself a lucky man if he leaves this OR standing straight." Now, both doctors cackled in utter amusement, but the intern was more confused than ever before because he definitely never expected that his favorite attending dated someone as cruel as Strange.

;

The soft tunes of Feelin' Happy by Lee Oskar echoed through OR 1, in which Stephen had just wrapped up an eight-hour surgery with the energy of a man who could've slept the entire night but was actually awake for longer than he thought.

"Edges are looking perfect - what a surprise - and the tumor is officially gone. The counter is rising up to... what? Thirteen successful tumor removals after four different councils by four different doctors?" Jack - the nurse present at most of his surgeries - scoffed softly. "It's tumor fourteen now, sir." Stephen let his head fall back and raised both hands, still holding his instruments. "Feelin' good!" He exclaimed before another voice entered the conversation: "I don't believe so, Doctor Strange."

The neurosurgeon moved his gaze from the ceiling to the arriving woman who had just put on the face mask, but her eyes told him everything he needed to know. He knew he had done something to offend or displease her - and his entire surgical team knew it as well. Jack turned down the music's volume and cleared his throat awkwardly, disrupting the dense silence suddenly covering the OR. The only sounds were the beeping heart monitor and the oxygenator.

"Doctor LN."

Everyone greeted her with the utmost respect - some even with a hint of fear - even though she was younger than most of the attendings and heads of departments throughout the hospital. But she had earned every title, nomination, and prize she had gained or won so far because everyone knew what a hardworking and intelligent woman she was.

"How can I help you at this fine early morning, Doctor LN?" Stephen's almost mocking question was first answered by a scoff. "It's almost noon if you haven't noticed, but of course, you didn't because you've been in here since last night when I left." The displeasure was now very vivid to hear for every single soul inside the room. Stephen looked up from the pulsing brain in front of him and the lamp attached to his head blinded her for a second there. "Well, an emergency came in," he defended himself though the shock pulsed through his entire body. He hadn’t noticed how the time had moved past him and his intention to leave not later than two hours after her, so he could get at least one round of cuddles before she would be dead to the world in his arms.

You fucked up good, idiot.

Yeah, he noticed that now.

YN wasn't impressed in the slightest. "An emergency aneurysm clipping doesn't take five hours. I'm not stupid, Stephen, so don't treat me as if I am. This tumor removal you just did there got scheduled last night - on a whim, might I add." She probably sounded crazy, but she worried for him more than it was probably good for her sanity because the Strange was a lost cause in this aspect of life. The doctor shrugged under the light blue operation gown.

"I saved his life."

"You risked it too in that egoistic move after you decided it would be wise to try your hands on it after a twelve hours shift without any sleep or a proper lunch or dinner. You are way out of line, Stephen, and I am obviously the only one who dares to mention it and kick your ass out of this freaking OR." She spiraled into this feeling, she knew it, but YN couldn't help it. Not when it came to Stephen's health and wellbeing. It was her duty as a girlfriend to care about these things, especially if he didn't do it himself—one of them had to. "So, move your ass out now, or I will drag it out myself. Your choice." She cocked both eyebrows in mock anticipation, preparing herself for the latter because she knew him, but Stephen slowly put down the delicate surgical instruments back on the surgical tray and stepped back from the patient. "You can close up, Hawthorne, but don't let your stitches get sloppy," he told his favorite resident of the week and stepped out of the OR, passing his glaring girlfriend with a mockingly cocked eyebrow as if to say, "See? I am a responsible adult."

Back in the scrub-in room, YN waited until Stephen had discarded the gloves and OR gown and finally turned to her while he ripped off his face mask. His face wasn't furies as she had anticipated. Instead, his signature cocky smirk graced his lips before he pulled her into him, pressing their bodies against one another. Her confusion was soon changed with a playfully annoyed roll of her eyes. "You can boss me around in those dark blue scrubs as long and often you want, Doctor LN," he smirked and laughed softly as her flat palm hit the back of his head. "You're an idiot, you know that, don’t you?" Stephen cocked a brow, never going to admit that he, indeed, was sometimes an idiot when it came to the woman in his arms. "And it's not as if you're not seeing me in those like every day of the week for the past six years," she reminded him, and now he shrugged. "I can't change the effect you have on me, but not only in them, of course." Rolling her eyes again, YN tucked at the shirt of his scrubs and looked up to him with a pleading glim in her eyes.

"You work too much," she whispered.

"I do god's work, darling," he whispered back and pecked the tip of her nose with the softest of kisses.

YN hit the back of his head again. "You can't do god's work when you're not rested and on the top of your game. I only ask for a healthy snack, some carbs, something to drink, and a nap. Nothing more, nothing less. I can reschedule your next three surgeries and put them up for the next few days, but today will be a day full of rest and stupid rounds, okay? Please?" Now she loaded her gun and looked up at him with those big pleading eyes he could never resist. "Pretty please? I will be there too. I can provide cuddles if you like." She played dirty now, they both knew it, but Stephen couldn't resist the tempting offer.

He already had been hooked after the promise of her company in one of the on-call rooms.

He bent down to give her a gentle kiss, cupping her face with both hands. "What do I have to do for your famous neck massage?" His request was whispered in a husky tone, and YN started to smile before kissing him again. "You don't have to do anything to get what you want, but I'm not opposed to more kisses," she grinned, and the surgeon pulled her into his side to leave the surgical floor to find one of the less frequented on-call rooms in their hospital.

—

Outside, still leaning opposite the surgical schedule, waited West and Chamberlain, and the other neurosurgeon groaned at the sight of the still happy couple leaving the floor together. Chamberlain chuckled and closed his fingers around the given ten-dollar note. "Thank you for your service," he grinned victoriously, and Nic rolled his eyes. He should have known that these two were each other's endgame and nothing could ruin their peace, not even themself.

;

Taking one of the tablets with them so YN could finally get that surgical report done as soon as Stephen would be dead to the world, they entered their preferred on-call room. It sat between the PEDs wing and the supply closets, so rarely anybody ventured in here, and the room was all theirs.

The couple took the single bed under the windows, and while she closed the blinds to keep the sun out, the neurosurgeon plopped down onto the new mattress the hospital had bought recently—and groaned. YN chuckled at that sound and situated herself behind his back after kicking off her sneakers, kneeling on the soft mattress, and pressing her legs against his hips.

She may be a bit clingy sometimes, but gladly, Stephen never objected to it. Instead, he reveled in it.

Propping her chin atop his right shoulder in order to see what the man in front of her was doing, YN hummed, interested. “And there I was thinking you’d let work be work for at least an hour. Silly me,” she whispered, breath fanning over the sensitive skin under his ear, and the doctor groaned again, raspier now. “You are an evil one,” he returned, and with a chuckle, she kissed the spot right under his ear. “I know.” But then, she grabbed her pager and paged one of her interns to get some food and some liquid at the cafeteria, so Stephen could finally rest.

“Food is on its way,” YN informed him and intended to start the promised neck massage, but another look over his shoulder showed her something she really didn’t like. The newest brain scans literally screamed for her attention.

“Stephen, no.”

Her hands shot out over his shoulder and tried to grab the tablet out of his, but the doctor held it further away and turned it so that she could see the beautiful scans of an even more beautiful nail in it. “Look at it!” His demand fell on deaf ears. “Give it to me, now.” YN almost got it. “Stephen, no! I mean it!” With one last effort, she leaned over his shoulder and grabbed the device, but the workaholic chuckled. “Stephen, yes,” he returned and acquired it again out of her tight grasp.

Only hell knew how he had done it.

With an exasperated sigh, YN took matters into her own hands and put her fingers back on his neck and upper back muscles, and started to massage. She applied the perfect amount of pressure—it wasn’t their first time she had to practically drag him away from work—and let her thumbs work through the taut splenius capitis muscle, directly followed by the levator scapulae muscle and the trapezius muscle.

With the beginning of the first overworked muscle, Stephen let his eyes fall shut, the tablet long forgotten in his hand, and a deep, rumbling moan escaped his parted lips. A satisfied sigh followed right after as the doctor felt the soft lips of his girlfriend on his skin, peppering loving kisses all over his neck where her hands didn’t work their magic.

“You must be a sorceress,” he groaned at a particular taut spot which soon was smooth as butter, and the tension slowly dispersed out of his tense body. He knew now that he worked too much and started to make plans to work less and spend more time with this godsend of a woman, but they both knew that those thoughts would be short-lived. He loved what he did too much for it—and that was okay because she was there to remind him from time to time to take it easy. “Don’t flatter me too much, love,” she whispered shortly before pressing another set of kisses onto his neck, her thumbs still working effortlessly through the muscles.

His next moan followed a hesitant knock at the door. “Uhm… Doctor LN…?” The voice of her intern asked, and YN had to chuckle but continued her work. “You can come in!” She had to raise her voice because Stephen moaned particularly loud this time but seemingly didn’t notice the arrival of his food. The door opened as hesitantly as his voice had sounded, and a head looked around the door to check if the situation was at least PG13. “Sorry, Doctor Strange, for interrupting,” he mumbled, but the neurosurgeon didn’t even acknowledge his presence. “Here is the pastrami sandwich, the chips, a package of carrots, and the water. The ER has paged me again for the consult, but I told them that you’re preoccupied, so they admitted the CF patient, and you can see her on the PEDs floor as soon as you’re… done.” His eyes shot to the sighing neurosurgeon before clearing his throat awkwardly and putting the food next to the two doctors on the mattress. “I… will handle anything else, Doctor LN, until you’re done here.” And with that, her intern turned on the spot and almost ran to leave this room behind.

Chuckling, YN kissed the spot underneath his ear another time, and Stephen sighed somewhere deep in his chest. “How do I deserve you?” His voice came out as a breathless groan, and the woman would have to lie if she said it didn’t do anything to her—quite the opposite was the case. But now, the man in front of her needed her more than she had to cave to her needs and desires. “That’s my question to ask, love,” the surgeon laughed softly before reaching down to get the sandwich. She reached over his shoulder and let it fall on his lap. “Eat,” was all YN said, and Stephen groaned another time. “Did I ever tell you how irresistible you are when you boss people around and shout orders? It’s bloody enticing. Could watch you all day…” He bit in his sandwich as told and YN continued in massaging his neck and working her hands down to his shoulders and upper arms.

“You always know a way to a woman’s heart.” Stephen hummed while chewing. “Well, I managed to find a way into yours. It’s all I ever wanted, darling, ever since meeting you for the first time.”

You really are a lucky woman, the voice in her head whispered, and she only could agree. Yes, sometimes Stephen was a pain in the ass, but nothing came without flaws, and she loved every single of them. It’s what a good relationship was made out of, she supposed.

“I recall a different reaction to the first sight of my face, but that’s a topic for another day,” she grinned but squealed at his sudden movements to grab and drag her onto his lap, the sandwich now forgotten on the small table next to the bed. “This was my not so thoroughly thought-through attempt at masking my real thoughts about the stunning woman entering the lecture hall and choosing the spot next to me because it was the spot with the best acoustic. But inside my head? My former self constantly screamed for your attention,” the Strange revealed in a hushed whisper, their faces only mere inches apart. His nose brushed against hers before Stephen dove for a hungry kiss; her magical hands had let desire boil up in his body, and he never could keep his hands off her.

Giggling, YN tangled her fingers in his dark hair and softly moaned as Stephen maneuvered her body so she could sit on his lap with spread legs, feeling the ever-growing bulge in his scrubs rubbing against the apex of her thighs. “Is the door locked?” His voice was strained by lust, and the doctor moaned against her soft lips as YN let her hips circle against his. “I don’t care,” she breathlessly whispered and laughed as the man underneath her became impatient—as he always did—and turned them. Now she was lying on the mattress with Stephen on top of her—his hair already deliciously tussled and pupils blown by the appetite for the woman pressed against his body. “Are we risky today?” Stephen teased her as his hands ran under her scrubs and pushed the shirt slowly up to reveal naked, soft skin inch by inch, his lips following his skilled fingers. YN moaned at the tickling but burning feeling of lips against skin but buried her fingers in his hair again to pull him upwards and back to her hungry lips. “Stop talking,” she demanded, almost muffled by his attacking mouth. “Impatient as always.”

Stephen grinned into the kiss. This was most definitely his preferred way to start the day.

;

This one took so long (I don’t know why), but now I’m happy with how this turned out. Hope you liked it too! As usual: Comments, reblogs, and likes are much appreciated! Thanks for reading <3

Taglist: @harpywritesfic @strangeions @meeksmusic83 @apple-and-berry @ben-er-ino @multifandomrandomgirl @lucimorningst4r @samisubi @hunterofshadows04 @y-napotat @lejuveinlegroove @ohchoices @jyessaminereads

[chongoblog]

I'm gonna share the story here. So last night, Red watched the beginning of some video that I'm sure they can link if they want discussing a series of Lifetime movies by a director named David Decoteau called "The Wrong..." series, with movies like "The Wrong Roommate", "The Wrong Child", etc. Before Red watched the video in full, they wanted to experience these movies themself with Emily and I, mostly inspired by the fact that Decoteau was also the director of this:

Now, "The Wrong..." series is its own can of worms. We only ended up seeing 2 of the 26 of them made in the last 8 years, but it seems like they all have the same cast and use the exact same model home. However, before we watched those movies, we looked through the filmography and found "Bigfoot vs. DB Cooper". Upon hearing that name, I knew we had to see that one first.

And it's the movie of all time.

-First of all, you'll notice in most pictures you see of this movie, the men are half-naked. Yep. It's never graphically explicit, but if you want an idea, it's still fully available on Youtube, but I'd still recommend against watching it if you're under 18.

-The first almost 11 minutes follow a shirtless guy running through the woods while being stalked by Bigfoot. Then we finally get a title card after nothing happens.

-They use the same house from "The Wrong..." series, which we noticed during the two movies we saw after.

-A sizeable chunk of the movie is dedicated to men stripping down in their underwear and posing sexily, usually with guns.

-The story has Bigfoot systematically killing each of these men one by one, usually unceremoniously killing them in the bathroom.

-There is one exception to the above where Bigfoot lovingly and sensually strokes a man's abs for over a minute, and THEN kills him.

-DB Cooper is played by the guy who voices Frank West in Dead Rising

-DB Cooper doesn't even meet Bigfoot until the last 5 or so minutes of the movie

-I'm not gonna say how THAT ends, but it's a trip after the hour of Nothing that happens before it.

-We tried to watch another movie directly after and needed time to adjust since the pacing in BFvDBC made glaciers look like they needed to calm down, so the next movie having a conversation a minute in was a lot for us.

-Upon doing some research, I found a small AMA on reddit from someone who claimed to be working as crew on this film. And while it's not verified, I'm still going to share some of my favorite tidbits.

-Multiple crew members asked if it was a porn. The director insisted it was a real movie because they got Linnea Quigley on board, an actress who none of those crew members knew.

-The director refused to get stock footage for some reason. So he told two of his crew members to just sneak around the airport and get as close as they could to the planes to get footage of them taking off and landing. The big problem with that is that the two people he sent for this job were the only two Middle Eastern crew members. They were detained and they quit the project the day after the director helped get them out.

-The actor who played Bigfoot was drinking on set, since he had a pretty solid history as a stuntman in films, and now he was in Bigfoot vs DB Cooper.

-Apparently, the catering was incredible

Anyway, movie of all time

We watched a movie called "Bigfoot vs DB Cooper" and it is not at all what would you expect it to be. It warped my perception of time. It made me feel something.

[etherialdeity]

You’re mine now, and no one else can have you - Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: You and Spencer get stranded on a deserted road in the middle of the night.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Category: Smut, 18+ (minors DNI)

Warnings/Includes: Dom!Spencer, Car sex, Rough sex, Dirty Talk, Fingering, Unprotected Sex

Word count: 2.4 k

A/N: This scenario has been on my mind a lot lately. Hope you enjoy it, and share it if you like it!

It’s been a couple of months since you started working at the BAU, and in that short period of time you could say that the team grew quite fond of you, as well as your qualifications and skills which undeniably impressed the rest of the team, Hotch especially. He really had a preference over the way you handled each case that arrived at your desk, so when there were times he wasn’t around to handle a case decision he started to give you the authority to make one. This somewhat bummed Spencer out. He had recently gotten a feeling that he was being left out and that his capabilities were sort of getting overlooked by his superior. You were no rookie though. You had a past as a profiler, so you had barely any difficulty reading the emotions and body language Spencer had been displaying. It was clear as day to you, he was frustrated. However, you did not want him to know that you had psycho-analyzed his character, which you thought would only creep him out.

It’s important to say that the name Spencer Reid was no nomen nescio (lat. anonymous person) in your dictionary. You had knowledge of his work years before you joined the BAU team. You were really intrigued and fascinated by the abilities he had, so you had read every article that he ever wrote. You have even saved some newspaper cutouts and kept them in your desk drawer at home, casually rereading them in your spare time.

But you didn’t want Spencer to know that. See, you thought about telling him all this stuff the day you first arrived at the BAU, but the moment you saw his soft hazel eyes you experienced a feeling like your heart sunk right to the floor. You had developed a little crush on him. He had been a bit distant for the past couple of weeks, so you started to doubt yourself, thinking you had maybe somehow offended him or crossed a line between you two – see, sometimes you’d get dazed and daydreaming for like 5 minutes, staring into his big, rough, blue-veined yet delicate hands which were gently tracing the pages of some bulky science book he had been reading at his desk, before you realized what you were doing was wildly innapropriate office behavior and snap out of it.

So, when Hotch put you both to investigate an urgent case that arrived at the BAU, it’s needless to say you were both surprised. Yeah, you had been working together for quite a bit of time, but never just the two of you.

“Y/N and Reid I’m gonna need you two to go to Charlottesville and talk to the chief of police to get more insights on the unsub’s MO so we can build this criminal profile as fast as we can.”

“Sure. I’ll get the car started. Y/N did you get everything you need?” Spencer said.

“Yeah. Just a second,” you muttered as you went into the ladies room and just stared at yourself in the mirror for a while. Your palms got instanteneously sweaty and your lips got dry and shakey at the same time. “It’s just a 2-hour drive “Y/N”, you got this. You know Spencer, he’s just a co-worker. Keep it cool.” you said to yourself as you plucked up the courage and grabbed your purse, rushing to the parking lot.

You could see Spencer standing beside the SUV, fidgeting with the car keys as he waited for you in the dimly-lit, half-empty parking lot. It had been pretty late, almost 1 a.m. to be exact, but this case couldn’t wait till the morning, as the unsub’s behavior had started to get erratic and evolved pretty rapidly in the last 24 hours.

You paced up to the car quickly as the sound of your heels became more and more exaggarated and apparent to Spencer’s ears. He turned around and had a quick glance at your long and deceptively delicate legs and what he thought was a sinfully short skirt you were wearing as he cleared his throat before he muttered:

“You ready?” He looked at you in the eyes while he clenched the strap of his familiar messenger bag.

“Yeah, let’s hit the road.”

The first 15 minutes of your car ride were overflown with loud and heavy silence, periodically broken by Spencer’s throat clearing which got awfully tense when he sat next to you.

“Did you know that a study conducted by Koudenburg, Postmes, and Gordijn has shown that, in the United States, it takes only four seconds before an extended period of silence becomes uncomfortable during conversation? The fact is, lack of back-and-forth chatter makes us uncomfortable. See, as humans we have an evolution-driven desire for conversation because it makes us feel connected and accepted. Long story short, humans equate silence with rejection,” Spencer started rambling randomly, in a bleak attempt to spark up a conversation with you so you could both be more comfortable with each other.

“The power of intentional silence is well-known and utilized among many professional groups: Sales people pause after their pitches for dramatic effect. Counselors practice waiting five seconds after a patient stops speaking before responding. Nurses and physicians employ-“ He suddenly pauses as you cut him off with your short, warm giggle.

“I’m rambling, aren’t I?” He chuckled nervously while he gripped the steering wheel of the car, slightly moving his sweaty palms in an up and down motion.

“Yeah, a bit. But I don’t mind it. To be honest, I’ve always been interested in your lengthy but rather informative ramblings. I can’t quite explain it, but there’s something riveting to the way you tell a story. You could say I’m a fan.”

Spencer turned his head towards you, taking his eyes of the road as he unvoluntarily bit his lower lip in a slow motion while his gaze traveled from your eyes, to the chest, and eventually down to your skin tight skirt which slightly exposed your thighs. He couldn’t help it. He was mesmerised.

“A fan?” he exclaimed, “I thought I didn’t have any normal fans. I guess I was wrong.”

“I guess we didn’t have any time to get to know each other better, Spencer. I really enjoy listening to you talk about stuff that intrigue you. You have a way with words, you know,” you said.

The blush on Spencer’s cheeks got more and more apparent with every word you muttered to him. He looked away from you, tilting his head to the window and smirked in a coyish manner. Of course, you could notice the reflection of his smirk, and this gesture made your heart skip a beat.

All of a sudden, you both hear the car engine starting to sputter and shake. You turn your heads left and right, as the malfunction of your vehicle became evident. With a sickening lurch the SUV floated to a stop in the middle of an empty, unmarked road in the middle of nowhere.

“Son of a bitch,” shouted Spencer. “I thought Derek had fixed the engine. At least that’s what he told me.”

“Well I guess next time we should bring vehicle malfunctions to a professional instead of a smartass like Derek. A mechanic, probably?” you suggested in a sarcasting tone.

“Don’t worry. I’ll call a tow truck, they’ll be here in no time,” you added, noticing the frustration on Spencer’s face you believe you ignited with your previous remark.

You pick up your phone and start to tap the first two digits onto your screen when you notice that the bars that stand in your upper right corner seem to have completely disappeared.

“Well, if its any consolation, we don’t have cell reception!”

“You’re kidding me?” Spencer said as he picked up his cell just to realize he didn’t have any reception either. He let out a quiet but somewhat frustrating sigh.

“Don’t get worked up, Spence. We’ll just take a break and wait for a car to pass by which will help us. There’s not much we can do, ya know.”

“I guess you’re right,” he murmured, turning the radio on.

The silence that had previously resided the car seemed to inhabit the place once more. This time though, you decied to break it.

“I guess you like my skirt, Spencer. I noticed you gazing over it not that long ago.”

“W-what? N-no…I..I was looking at something else,” Spencer muttered in a slightly disturbed tone, as he tried to prove you wrong, “There was something by your legs.”

“Listen, Spence. I’m gonna be honest with you. I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified,” you declared.

“Y/N… I couldn’t stop thinking about you since the day I shook your hand for the first time,” Spencer muttered, looking at you directly into your penetrating hungry eyes.

“Oh, Spencer…. You have no idea how much I want you. Please let me taste you,” you added as you placed your hand on his inner thigh, feeling his obviously swollen and inflamed, thick cock. You started rubbing up and down his pants, hearing Spencer let out a deep moan when he grabbed both of your legs and placed you on top of his body, both sitting in the driver’s seat of the BAU rented vehicle.

Spencer forces his hands beneath your tight skirt between your legs and places his thumb on your clit while he rubs your pussy with his fingers, getting you soaking wet as goosebumps cover your whole body from head to toe. You moaned at the feeling, lifting your hips into stroking.

“Do you like it when I touch you like that?”

“Oh, daddy. Yes, please. Don’t stop,” you moaned as you felt Spencer’s finger slid into you. He started thrusting his fingers inside of you in a fast-paced rhythm you could barely contain yourself from having an orgasm right then and there. His vicious, calloused fingers engraved bruises on your inner thighs, but you couldn’t care less. You could even say that the thought that you could look back on them later made you even more aroused that what you were experiencing could be relived with just a glimpse of your own thighs.

He took one of his hands and gripped the back of your head, slowly clenching his fist around your hair as he pulled you closer to his lips, not kissing you just yet. Your foreheads were leaning towards each other, as you moaned into his mouth at the orgasmic pleasure of his thrusting fingers inside of you. Your thighs were shaking so much you felt like you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Kiss me. Kiss me properly,” Spencer murmured into your mouth as you could feel his hot breath moisten your dry lips, burying himself so close into you you could barely manage to breathe. And then you let yourself go. You kissed Spencer on his soft, sweet lips for the first time, although it almost felt like you had kissed him a thousand times before. This was what you were longing for ever since you met him, and now that it was happening, you never wanted it to stop. You could not let him go.

You wanted all of him, in you, right now. The kiss went hungrier and hungrier with every second that passed by. Your hips were thrusting into his cock, and you couldn’t take the longing any more. You could hear Spencer fiddling with his belt buckle as he grew more and more impatient while the only thought that was inhabiting his mind was the one of him fucking you into the ecstasy he was lusting for in the past couple of months.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard, I’m gonna fucking ruin you,” Spencer grunted through his teeth in his hoarse voice, “You’re mine now, and no one else can have you,” he added.

Spencer started to thrust himself vigorously into you, as every thrust was more passionate than the previous one. You started to move your hips towards him as your pussy was beating at the same fast pace as your heart, your clit burning with the desire for his cock. Each time you took all of him his eyes clenched so hard while his mouth went wide open, gripping your thighs closer into him as he consumed every inch of you.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he whimpered.

“I love the way you stretch me open, baby. Please, give me more!” You begged Spencer as you rode his dick with torturous finesse, bouncing up and down in a smooth rhythm while he groaned into your neck and bit into your skin, leaving you with bruises that were going to last for weeks.

“Keep your eyes open, look at me, baby,” Spencer groaned. You could only moan to his words he said to you, as your body shook each time he thrusted himself inside of you, surprised at the unspeakable power he held over you in that moment. You couldn’t take it anymore; your shrill moans grew louder each second he fucked your cunt.

“Spencer, I--I can’t hold on much longer,” you whined into his mouth.

“Just a little more Y/N. I want to fill you with my cum inside of you,” Spencer grunted as he started to push you forcefully towards his cock, going faster and faster as you both started moaning loudly to the top of your lungs together.

“Cum for me baby,” you said as you let out an orgasmic shriek while your thighs started to tremble from the pleasure.

“Oh, fuck” said Spencer, letting out his most passionate moan as you felt his cum filling you inside while his eyes seared into yours and his fingers tangled into your hair.

Both of you locked into a hot, sweaty, long kiss as you came together into ecstasy.

You looked deeply into each other’s eyes, still breathing heavily as you tried to come back to your senses, not believing each other that this had just happened.

“Well, I believe that his compensated for the awkward silence between us…”, you muttered as you tried to catch your breath.

“Now I know what to do the next time,” Spencer chuckled as he kissed you on your forehead, to which you responded with a giggle.