#and good thing is i already have gifs and edits of him i just gotta add on the sauron psd

[0fmanynames]

𝐎𝐎𝐂; Me here thinking on who to use for Sauron's discord tupper collection of him as Zigûr and then the lightbulb finally turns on and I remember a dude I've been using for years in dark!au's... Perfect death cult leader vibes.

[wolviensabes]

Logan has a massive breeding kink. 18+ Minors DNI.

I wrote something kinda similar with the whole 'rut' thing, but this will focus more on the 'breeding' aspect. Possibly will write a deep fic about this at a later date, for now this is just a short little drabble. Wrote with both afab and amab, as an afab I am not super familiar with reactions for those born as amab, so I tried my best!

Warnings: Uh filthy breeding sex thoughts?? Don't read if it's not for you. I did not edit this I typed all of this in like ten minutes.

I don't care if you are afab or amab, or capable of actually being biologically 'bred' or not...and neither does Logan.

He is going to fuck you full of his seed, no matter what hole he is stretching.

A lot of my followers have come to me and said they are amab, and I want to give you guys some love too. Logan will throw you on the bed...or couch...or floor. He will tear your clothes off while leaving all those lovely bites on your neck and shoulder, trailing down your chest and abdomen, his rough and calloused hands feeling you as he finally reaches your pants. I hope you didn't pay much for them because they're in tatters as he grows too frustrated to unbutton them.

"Look at you, rock hard from the thought of my cock in your ass?" He teases you, watching you throb and twitch, your own sex felt swollen and leaked like crazy. This man knew just how to get you going. He likes to stoke you until you squirm, spitting on your dick as his hand works you. His thumb trails teasingly on the tip and he grins down at you as you whine for him. "Ah, gotta lube up my fingers to stretch ya...don't want me goin' in dry do you?" he teases, using your precum as lube on his fingers and circling your tight hole.

He leans down, spreading you and licks over you, his tongue prying and greedy. Once you seem wet enough, he will push one finger in. Two, maybe three. Curling them against that pretty little spot that makes pleasure jolt up your spine and make you a moaning mess. So desperate for an orgasm you try reaching for anything to grab onto.

When Logan does penetrate you, it is so intense and you feel like he splits you in half. It stings and burns, but it also feels so damn good you don't want him to stop. Ever. "Logan! Oh my god, please, move...please." Your voice wavers with begging pleasure, just as he likes to hear. It gets him going, so riled up and ready to fuck you until you can't take it.

His balls are so heavy and his stockpile of cum is huge. It doesn't matter if you're a dude, he will breed you. It was funny the first time it came up during sex, he rolled his eyes at your genuine concern telling him you can't get pregnant. He deadpans at you and scoffed, "Ya, I know that, bub...it's called fantasy for a reason. Just let me have this." he grumbled, though your concern to his words was pretty cute...and funny.

"Damn it...fuck." he snarled as his cock buried as far as it could in your ass, watching himself disappear inside you. "Takin' me so well aren't ya, pup...watchin' you squirm with my dick inside you 'bout makes me unload." he groaned and teased you, enjoying how your face blushed darkly and you mewl under your breath, biting your lip to keep yourself from sounding like you're in a fucking heat.

"M'gonna fill your tight little hole with all my seed, you're gonna be drooling it outta your greedy ass, swallowing and milkin' me already..." he spoke filthy words while he thrusted hard and fast, you felt so dizzy and lightheaded in the best way. It was incredible, such pleasure overtook your body and you felt yourself spasm as he teased your tip, your own orgasm hitting you like a freight train.

You sputtered cum onto your belly and chest, he laughs lowly, grunting like a feral animal in your ear. "Messy boy. Look what you did..." He leaned down and licked a stripe through the mess and kissed you, your own cum on his tongue and you tasted yourself on the messy kiss. His hips stutter into you and he grabs you tightly, curling around your body and pressing you until he exploded inside your ass. That delicious snarling cry from him, a guttural roar, and his repetitive thrusts fill you up with his spunk.

He goes until every last drop is inside you, and he settles with his hips against you. "You're gonna keep me in ya...even if I have to keep my dick inside you."

With your pleading whine and groan, you pressed back against his cock, still hard in your ass. It makes Logan give a small thrust back, chuckling at you. You were so needy, it made him so fucking happy seeing how much you needed him. "That's my good boy, ya need it...? Fine. I'll give ya another load."

Logan talks a bit more if there's a possibility of getting you pregnant, or if he's with an afab. He's a little more filthy with his words since he knows the risks involved.

"Yeah...you want me to cum inside ya? You wanna get pregnant with my babies? Nngh....I'm gonna fill that womb. I'm gonna make sure you are leakin'..." he snarls at you while he's completely buried in your stretched, swollen cunt.

Can you barely register his words? Yes. But you don't care. You want his cum, you want him to fuck you senseless...which he has been. You were no better than a bitch in heat for him and he fucking loved it.

"Gonna be so damn full, gonna get you pregnant," he groaned and grunted hard, his instincts flaring with the possibility of actually impregnating and breeding you. It drove his hips faster and harder into you, like he couldn't control himself or stop.

His hips thrust so hard into you, the impact on your plush ass began to grow sore, you knew that your backside would be bruised and it wasn't even from spanking. He continued to pound into you, he bent you in all sorts of ways, positions you didn't think you could bend in.

Your body was covered in love bites and dark bruises, your nipples swollen from his teasing and they had a sting that enhanced all your pleasure with every thrust.

"Damn, look at you writhing. Such a good thing for me, sweet girl," he laughed as his dick kissed your cervix over and over, precum coating your inner walls. "I'm gonna fill you, princess...make that pretty little womb full." his hips continued to snap into you, biting your neck as he let out muffled growls against your skin.

You feel yourself crying with nothing but the overwhelming feeling of your orgasm, what number is this? You don't know. All you know is the pad of his finger is playing with your precious bundle of nerves and you can barely feel anything besides the raging fire of your climax shooting through you.

When he does cum, it is so much it overflows out of you, the sheer amount of it is insane. Your eyes widen, feeling the hot seed filling your precious fertile womb. If you're ovulating don't even think about running. Logan will literally hunt you down and bend you over until he is completely empty.

Thanks for reading my filthy thoughts lol. Maybe I'll turn this into an actual fic one day.

Byee 🧡

Dividers by @/strangergraphics

[actuallysaiyan]

Kinktober Day 10: Breeding

warnings: smut, breeding, unprotected sex, reader is Toji's lover, oral sex(fem receiving), reader is taking the place of Mamaguro, overstimulation, slight daddy kink word count: 0.5k pairings: Toji Zenin x Fem!Reader teaser: Every time he looks at you, he sees the most perfect person in the world. Toji knows that you can’t see that when you look at him, so he’ll give you the next best thing.

dividers: @adornedwithlight

taglist: @thissaintjessi, @cherryblossombankai, @yourfavstalker25789,

@aquariius-rising, @jaeminsmilk, @sindulgent666,

@dearest-yeosang, @100520s, @awkwardchick87,

@hoesoflamentation, @shinysp4rk, @yeowangies, @chilichopsticks

Toji isn’t a charming prince, but he always charms you. Toji isn’t the dream man you often thought about, but he makes you feel so good. He warms you up in ways you didn’t think someone like him even knew how to do.

Despite your own trauma and Toji’s trauma, you two managed to have a relatively normal relationship. He confides in you, making him feel vulnerable. But it makes him feel safe and warm. It makes him feel loved for the first time in his life.

So it gets him thinking about how he could make you feel loved and happy in your life. It makes him begin to wonder how he can share this feeling with you. Every time he looks at you, he sees the most perfect person in the world. Toji knows that you can’t see that when you look at him, so he’ll give you the next best thing.

“Toji,�� you whine as he has you folded in half. He grins at you.

“Yeah, what is it, princess?” He asks so casually, almost like he doesn’t have his cock so deep inside of you. 

He’s been at it for hours now. Ever since he got home, he’s been pawing at you. It started with him wrapping his arms around you when he got home and you were doing the dishes. This escalated to him kneeling down behind you and eating you out from behind. The sounds that emitted from him hand you so weak.

Then he tugged you into the bedroom, dropping on his knees once more. He devoured you like a starved man eating his last meal. The whole day he had the thought of breeding you in his mind. He was a man on a mission and he wasn’t going to stop until he knew for sure you were pregnant.

Your little moan pulls him from his daydream of what happened this evening. He smirks down at you, watching your little pussy swallow up his big cock. It’s like you were made to be bred. You were made to be bred by him specifically and it was turning him on even more. Already he had pumped two loads into you, but he just stayed hard.

He maneuvers you in whatever position he wants. Toji has you feeling so weak for him, trying to cling to him to ground yourself. He keeps pounding into you, listening to the way your pussy is being churned. It’s such a sloppy and noisy sound, and it only makes you both even more aroused than before. There’s a nice frothy, creamy ring of your mixed juices at the base of his cock.

“Don’t tell me you’re tapping out now,” Toji leans in to kiss you. “We gotta make sure you get pregnant. If I give you a baby, you’ll be happy.”

His words hit you hard. You realize that he’s been trying to get you pregnant this entire time. Having a baby with Toji would be amazing. A little bundle of joy that you two could dote over. A small little thing that is so precious to both of you. You wrap your legs around him, pulling him in even closer. He plunges into you deeper.

“That’s it,” he says in a smug voice. “Let me knock you up. Let daddy breed you.”

reblogs and comments always appreciated!

©actuallysaiyan 2024– do not repost on other platforms, copy, translate or edit my works!

[pastafossa]

"From A Squirt Gun, With Love" (Bucky Barnes x F!Reader, Fic)

Time for the next prompt for my Tuna-Tober prompt challenge! This is for day 5's prompt: water gun fight. It's also been a while since I've written for my favorite super soldier, so today's prompt is for Bucky Barnes! You can see the rest of the prompts I've chosen here if you'd like to know what's coming this month from me. Also, if you'd like notifications when I post a new story, drabble, or chapter, you can follow my sideblog @pastaxandria and set it for notifications! Side note, once I've got more these will all be edited a bit more and placed on my AO3, so if you lose one, just keep an eye out over there!

Ship: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Wordcount: 1.5k

Warnings for this chapter, let's do this: some suggestive dialogue and innuendo

You couldn’t afford another mistake. 

He’d been hunting you for at least an hour now, stalking you determinedly through the corridors of the compound and the manicured gardens outside. He’d already nailed you half a dozen times. And much to your disbelief, one of those times was because he’d somehow managed to find his way up into the air vents where he could track you unseen. You’d done your best to at least make it a challenge for him, relying on a variety of traps you’d managed to set up ahead of time, but it hadn’t done you as much good as you’d hoped, your hit count a measly two against his six. And now? Now you were running low on ammunition, and just as low on workable options. What was worse, he’d cornered you in the garage. You’d been able to tuck yourself beneath an SUV before he could see you, but there was only one exit—one currently being monitored by your annoyingly precise marksman of a boyfriend. 

You held your breath at the quiet scrape of heavy combat boots scuffing against the concrete floor. If you had to guess, he was wandering around about two rows over and off to your left. He could have bent over and just scanned beneath the cars immediately, but he was enjoying this far too much to let it end that easily. He was toying with you, dragging things out now that he had you boxed in. 

“I know you’re in here, doll,” came his low chuckle. “Come on out, and I’ll go easy on you. Besides, you gotta be soaked by now, and not in the fun way. But I can change that for you if you want. All you gotta do is pop that pretty head up for me.”

Not a chance. 

You weren’t going down without a fight. 

You clutched your water gun tighter, checking the glowing tactical display—you hadn’t even known high-tech water guns existed until Bucky had dropped one into your hands with a grin. “If my girl wants a water gun fight, we’re gettin’ a water gun fight.” 

And what you saw wasn’t good. 

Shit. 

You were down to eighteen percent tank capacity. Anywhere else in the compound, you might have had a chance to reload with one of the buckets you’d both scattered around, but you’d forgotten to put one in the garage. If you didn’t get him with your next shot, you were done. 

“The fact that you’re not out here shootin’ at me like before tells me you’re low.” His voice sounded different now: higher up, and a bit more distant. Had he… climbed on top of the cars? “You need more practice. I’ll admit, I was proud of you when you got that ass shot in, but that ain’t happenin’ again. My turn to get your ass now, darlin’. You gonna give me what’s mine?”

You sucked your lower lip for a moment before carefully edging your way forward, water gun held in front of you just in case he decided to pull a horror movie move and drop into view. It wasn’t easy. The goddamn water gun was shaped more like a shotgun than a super soaker, clunky and a bitch to drag around. The upside was it had an automatic reload so you didn’t have to worry about making any noise while pumping the gun. Its range was good for a water gun, around twenty feet, but not good enough that you could shoot Bucky at distance. You’d need to get close.

One of the cars down the row creaked, tires groaning, presumably as your massive super soldier of a boyfriend strolled along the top of the cars like they were paving stones. That he wasn’t bothering to be silent was… unusual.

“Here, kitty kitty,” he purred, his voice growing fainter as he wandered down towards the other end of the garage. “Where’s my pretty girl gone?”

On the one hand, you enjoyed hearing that tone from him, playful and relaxed, warm and content. He’d grown pretty comfortable with you, open and affectionate, over the time you’d known him. That comfort, that openness with you had only blossomed further as your relationship had morphed into something romantic. But even so, it was still unusual for him to let go like this just so he could have fun. It was progress, and that knowledge filled your heart with a sparkling warmth. 

But you also couldn’t help but be the least bit suspicious, because it would be absolutely like him to use his voice and playful tone to distract you from something. 

You froze again when a pair of boots suddenly appeared on the concrete in front of you, landing without a sound—you’d been right; all the sound a minute ago had been to try to lure you out, make you think he was farther away than he really was. You didn’t dare move, not when the slightest sound might give you away. Slowly, the boots shifted on the concrete as he turned one way, and then the other. Waiting for you to make a run for it. 

But he’d taught you better than that. 

There was the softest, quietest little huff of amusement, or maybe pride, instead. But instead of heading off, he began to kneel. 

Shit, shit, shit—

He was going to duck down and look under the car. He knew you were here, he had to. He had to. Could you shift the angle of your water gun before he leaned down and saw you—

Fortunately for you, it became clear a second later that he was only lowering himself into a crouch. You stilled again in the shadows beneath the SUV, your gun still aimed cautiously at his legs.

Speaking of which, you had a really good view of his thighs at this angle. With him crouched the way he was, his thighs looked even thicker than usual, deliciously hard muscle covered in old denim. The round curve of his ass looked just as good where he filled out his jeans, though the dark splotch on the tight fabric made you grin. It was a testament to one of the only two shots you’d managed to hit him with. Sure, he’d shot you twice in the ass in retaliation, but it had been absolutely worth it. 

He settled onto the balls of his feet, rocking a little back and forth. You heard a soft whir, before his metal hand appeared in your view. Your heart skipped a beat, a droplet of maybe-water-maybe-sweat rolling down your temple. Only… his hand didn’t appear to be going for you like you’d expected. Instead, it slipped down to the concrete. One metal fingertip gleaming in the fluorescent lighting, it brushed lightly at the droplets of water drying on the concrete. 

Fresh droplets. 

From you. 

Crap. 

His head appeared beneath the SUV as he leaned over to meet your eye. Then he flashed you a feral grin. “Hi doll,” he said smugly. “Hi Bucky. I love you,” you said fondly, and shot him in the face. 

His head reared back as he spat out a curse, frantically swiping the water away from his face. It gave you just enough time for you to squirm out from under the SUV and take off down row between the cars, your sneakers slapping against the concrete, the wind blowing your hair back. If you could get to the door before he did, you could turn around and lock him in. It wouldn’t keep him here forever, but it might buy you a few minutes to reload. 

Based on the rapidly pounding footsteps behind you, though, you weren’t even going to get close. Not when it sounded like he was charging after you with every last bit of super-soldier-powered speed he had. You needed another plan, or else—

Something slammed hard against one of the cars behind you, startling you enough to make you stumble. In that brief moment of distraction, Bucky had vaulted himself up off the car and over your head. 

His broad form landed smoothly in front of you in one easy motion, dropping into a crouch. He rose slowly, powerful muscle gradually uncoiling inch by inch, until finally he loomed up over you, water gun held ominously in one hand. His pale eyes had gone dark with heat, pupils blown wide as he fixated on you: his prey. He took one prowling step forward, a flash of pink from his tongue as he lazily licked the droplets of water away from his mouth.

“You shot me,” he rumbled hungrily. “I should be mad. But damn, doll. That was hot.” “Hot enough to stop you from shooting me back?” you asked hopefully.

“Not a chance,” he said with a smirk, before firing a blast of cold water directly at your abdomen. You let out another shriek, turning to sprint away from him, a trail of damp footprints left behind. And if your shriek was half laughter, well, his playful growl was just as full of joy as he took off after you. 

[silverflqmes]

໒⦂ 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐊𝐘𝐔𝐔 𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐒.

notes. reposted and edited from wp! happy holidays and merry christmas to those who celebrate!

genre. fluff + crack

ft. tooru oikawa, tetsuro kuroo, rintaro suna, shoyo hinata, kenji futakuchi, hajime iwaizumi, osamu miya

gender neutral! reader

➫ 𝓞𝗜𝗞𝗔𝗪𝗔 𝓣𝗢𝗢𝗥𝗨 ୨୧ ˎˊ˗

⌗ HOT COCO HOT COCO HOT COCO

⌗ he loves to sit near the fire place with either you seated on his lap or just plopped up above him on the couch or beneath if you're more my style AHAHAHAHA

⌗ LOVES HALLMARK MOVIES i mean look at him, he would so watch them.. but he wouldn’t mind the classics like elf, christmas story ( my fav fr ), the home alone duology or national lampoon’s christmas vacation🫶

⌗ "I LOVE YOU I LOVE I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOUUUU Y/N-CHAAAAANNNN!!" — after watching elf and doing last minute christmas shopping going up the escalator ( he’s silly )

⌗ would totally play old jazzy christmas songs and pull you close to him, swaying gently in the kitchen or by the fireplace to the melody with the smell of balsam in the air❤️

⌗ you already know he would have lured you under the mistletoe too somehow🧎

⌗ "oh wow! i wonder how this got here!!🙀"

➫ 𝓚𝗨𝗥𝗢𝗢 𝓣𝗘𝗧𝗦𝗨𝗥𝗢 ୨୧ ˎˊ˗

⌗ y'all woke up LATE on christmas day istg, but tetsuro hooked you up real nice with presents ykyk he made that bank af and worked those extra hours just for you<3

⌗ THE DECORATIONS ARE SO PRETTY ISTG WHO LET HIM HAVE THIS MUCH TASTE, WHO ALLOWED HIM TO SLAY THAT HARD

⌗ unlike kawa, kuroo took you for dinner and made a day out of it? he took you ice skating, out to see the lights and decorations, tossed a few snowballs at you to piss you off🧎

⌗ "come onnn, i promise i won't let you fall~"

⌗ it ends up snowing a bit later into the night on your way back home, so he gave you his scarf, long coat AND mittens.. hooked you up fr

⌗ except.. nothing fits aside from the scarf, but are you complaining? no🙄 although you did yell at him for it cuz he could get sick</3

⌗ he had an entire argument prepared as to why he wouldn't get sick and you could have sworn that he mentioned the periodic table somewhere🧍‍♂️spoiler alert- he gets sick the next day

➫ 𝓢𝗨𝗡𝗔 𝓡𝗜𝗡𝗧𝗔𝗥𝗢 ୨୧ ˎˊ˗

⌗ ngl at first you were SO confused as to why suna didn't have a christmas tree in his living room, but one in his bedroom until christmas day..

⌗ Y'ALL DID NOT MOVE THE ENTIRE DAY

⌗ "rin, we gotta open the presents y'know.. and i kinna want breakfast.. we gotta get up at some point."

⌗ "the presents are under our tree over there by the dresser, just peek under and you'll see them. as for breakfast, kita-san’s coming over with everyone later. problem solved."

⌗ tbfh the laziest christmas you could ever imagine, but like you can’t complain, it was nice to just unwind a bit

⌗ he did keep the spirit of the holidays with a good bit of christmas movies, for sure the grinch who stole christmas ( it’s his favorite )

⌗ later on, true to his words, kita showed up around 7:30 with the rest of the team and y'all had sum good ass food and hot coco after reluctantly dragging suna out of bed to get ready🤲

➫ 𝓗𝗜𝗡𝗔𝗧𝗔 𝓢𝗛𝗢𝗬𝗢 ୨୧ ˎˊ˗

⌗ boy are you in for it🧎

⌗ shoyo woke you up at four in the morning with natsu in tow, dragging your ass to the living room where the tree was filled with a wide arrangement of presents

⌗ you were still half asleep and since you were staying at shoyo's for the holidays — you uh.. weren't allowed to start opening gifts till seven LMAOO so you guys started guessing the presents instead; yk getting a feel of them

⌗ "WOAH THIS ONE'S SUPER BIG, I-IT COULD BE ANYTHING!"

⌗ "sho, the only thing it's gonna end up being is a wake up call to your mom and then you'll never know what it is."

⌗ tobio comes over later and y'all have a snowball fight together🥺

⌗ you and natsu won LMAOOOO poor lil birb was upset, but your kisses made things better for him❤️

➫ 𝓕𝗨𝗧𝗔𝗞𝗨𝗖𝗛𝗜 𝓚𝗘𝗡𝗝𝗜 ୨୧ ˎˊ˗

⌗ ugh yes dateko's baddest bitch😩 another grinch enjoyer tbh

⌗ this man woke you up with a snowball to your face before shouting out merry christmas

⌗ although it was a cheap shot, getting you while VULNERABLE, you couldn't stay mad at him, as you loved this piece of shit so dearly😪

⌗ HOWEVER. that didn't mean you didn't get his ass back the minute he dropped his guard when you went outside to turn your christmas lights off for the day

⌗ "huh, so you think you can be a cheeky little shit with me on such a loving day? and get away with it?"

⌗ "and what? you don't hear me complaining, now do you kenji?”

⌗ in spite of being complete little shits to each other, you laughed it off after awhile and just spent your evening curled up together on your couch with a plate of sugar cookies that you both had baked the night before ( ofc you can guess there was a war of flour and baking tools then too )

➫ 𝓘𝗪𝗔𝗜𝗭𝗨𝗠𝗜 𝓗𝗔𝗝𝗜𝗠𝗘 ୨୧ ˎˊ˗

⌗ y'all have the coziest christmas honestly

⌗ you and hajime don't wake up too early or too late; it's just the right time and you're both completely prepared for all that's to come for the day

⌗ the two of you start off with unwrapping presents, then iwaizumi makes you the BEST breakfast ever istg, TELL ME HE DOESN'T COOK RN IF YOU WANNA GET TUSSLED

⌗ ngl tooru taught him some good shit when it came to making hot coco and you swore you were just about ready to tap into heaven at that immaculate taste

⌗ "oh my gosh, haji, what did you put in this, it's so.. it's better than amazing!"

⌗ "while i want tell you, i'm ‘sworn to secrecy’, his words not mine, by that fool oikawa with his secret recipe bullshit." he can’t lie though, whatever tf tooru invented was otherworldly..

⌗ not even an hour later you found it on starbucks' secret menu app and you showed it to your boyfriend who flipped his shit before sprinting over to his friend’: house with two snowballs in hand ( with hard snow.. praying for my man to dodge more than ever ); the outcome.. wasn't the prettiest😔

➫ 𝓜𝗜𝗬𝗔 𝓞𝗦𝗔𝗠𝗨 ୨୧ ˎˊ˗

⌗ FOOD FOOD FOOD FOOD did i say food? yes, food.

⌗ all you two did that whole entire day was EAT?? NOT EVEN THAT BUT YOU HAD A WHOLE CHRISTMAS EVE DINNER TOO THE NIGHT BEFORE HXJSKSKS OSAMU DOES NOT PLAY GAMES WHEN IT COMES TO CHRISTMAS

⌗ atsumu invites himself over as usual and there's chaos in the kitchen of course..

⌗ "OUTTA THE WAY 'SAMU, I WANNA DECORATE COOKIES TOO!!"

⌗ "if you don't quit whinin' right now 'tsumu, i'm gonna beat yer ass and toss ya out in the snow."

⌗  bantering aside, the cookies were super pretty?? they tasted heavenly too, cookies from scratch go hard and whatever recipe those two were taught.. yum

⌗ osamu had nonalcoholic eggnog prepared for you and him to have after atsumu went home and the two of you exchanged the presents you had for one another before cuddling near the tree and fireplace for the night<3

notes. forgot to repost this before with the other reposts but it was kinda out of season.. so i waited for the holidays to blow in to fixed them up a bit and post them on here. furthermore, super sorry for the lack of activity, been working on my og wip as of late and my longer fics on wp :’) hope you understand</3

↳ return to main masterlist . request rules . send an ask

[feyhunter78]

Pink Pastels Pt 22

Description: A bunch of chaotic things happen to Miguel while he's just trying to have a normal day at work. TW: Gabi's school is attacked, but no children or innocents are harmed! Pt 23

“O’Hara, you gotta see this, you’re a fan of Spiderman right?” Jack, one of the geneticists, calls Miguel over, his phone turned sideways in his hand.

“I wouldn’t say a fan…more like an appreciative citizen.” Miguel says, sliding into the chair beside Jack.

He likes Jack, he’s a good man and a dedicated employee. He’s also the only one besides Monica he’ll seek out when he doesn’t want to eat lunch alone.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Check this out.”

It’s an…edited video of him, titled “Coolest Spiderman Saves.”

“What is this?” He asks, squinting at the video as it begins again.

Jack gives him a disbelieving look. “You don’t know what an edit is? Dude, you’re not that old.”

“Watch it.” Miguel warns halfheartedly.

“Yeah, Miguel’s real sensitive about his age, it happens to the elderly, ya know?” Monica teases, as she breezes by on her way to the fridge.

“Aren’t we the same age?” Miguel shoots back.

“Aren’t we the same age.” She mocks, grabbing a soda from the fridge.

“Real mature, Mon.” He drawls, rolling his eyes and standing, intending to go back to his office.

“Wait, Miguel, the boss wants to talk to you.” Monica says, her mocking tone gone, replaced by slight hesitance.

Tyler Stone is different in this universe. He’s less…everything. He looks up when Miguel enters and beckons for him to take a seat. “So—Miguel, thanks for coming.”

“Monica said you wanted to speak with me, sir?” Miguel keeps things professional with him, even though it’s painfully clear this universe’s Tyler Stone has begun to long for a more familial relationship.

“You don’t have to call me—yes, I wanted to speak with you about your plus one for the gala. Mon said you weren’t bringing anyone.”

Miguel blinks, thoroughly caught off-guard. Was this really what Stone called him in for?

“That was before.”

“Before?”

“Before I asked Y/N Y/L/N, to accompany me.”

“And who is this y/n?” Stone asks, as if he couldn’t find out with a simple search.

“She’s a friend.” Miguel says, his fangs itching to break through the gums and tear Stone’s throat out for even daring to ask about you. You’re his, no one needs to know anything more than that.

“A friend.” Stone repeats, his blond eyebrows furrowed.

“Mr. Stone, is this the only reason you asked me to come in here? Because my team needs me back in the lab.” Miguel’s already standing, halfway to the door.

“That’s it, thanks, Miguel.” Stone says, half professional, half almost mournful…?

He shakes it off and heads back to his office. Stone had plenty of time to be a father, especially in this universe. It wasn’t on him to fix Stone’s mistakes.

Miguel settles into his desk chair and shakes his mouse, waking his computer. Spreadsheets, lab reports, expense reports, and DNA analyses, that’s what he needs to focus on.

He gets about halfway through his to-do list when Lyla pops up in his peripheral vision.

“Miguel, you need to see this.” She flicks her fingers and a holographic newsreel plays before his eyes.

“Reports are saying that the target of the attack was Steve Rodger’s Elementary School.” A newswoman says, her tone even, her expression neutral but not uncaring.

Miguel feels his stomach lurch, and he pushes back from his desk, his chair clattering to the floor as he moves in a hurry, sprinting down the hall, ignoring concerned questions from his coworkers.

“Lyla, tell me what’s going on.” He says, his breathing erratic as he frantically swings through the city, his mind replaying the moment he lost Gabriella over and over again.

“No reports of any dead or injured, the hostile is a disgruntled employee of the school board, his kids go to the school, I doubt he’ll make any rash decisions.” Lyla says calmly, scanning through news segments and police reports.

He can’t lose her, not again. He can’t lose you either, not when he’s just found you.

The school is in sight when he hears glass shattering and metal creaking.

He scans the outpouring of students and teachers streaming out the doors of the school. He doesn’t see you or Gabi.

“Lyla.” He says, voice strained, his hands shaking as he lands.

“School board guy apparently has superpowers? Yeah, okay, Donald Wilkerson, did some weird experimenting after his wife left him, looks like he’s got metal manipulation?”

“Tap into y/n’s necklace, where are they?” He orders, pushing through the crowd and into the school.

“Shit, they’re trapped in the nurse’s office.” Lyla throws up a map, but he knows the way, he’s studied the layout of Gabi’s school extensively.

Around him is chaos, the building is creaking, windows are shattered, books left scattered, desks and chairs overturned. He makes it to the nurse’s office, only to see it break away from the school and begin to rise up into the air.

Miguel can hear Gabi crying and your frantic attempts to calm her. He webs himself up, claws digging into the wooden door before he rips it off, not even watching as it spirals to the ground.

“Back away, Spiderman, she’s mine.” Donald yells from the flying piece of metal he’s standing on.

He’s going to rip that jackass apart. “There’s a child in there.”

“Not mine.” Donald sneers, raising his hand and slicing it through the air in Miguel’s direction.

Miguel flings himself inside, the chunk of metal whizzing through the space he previously occupied.

“Did I forget to mention his ex-wife is the nurse?” Lyla asks, her lips pressed together tightly.

“Yeah, you did.” He snaps, scanning the room for you and Gabi.

You’re tucked into a corner, Gabi’s face hidden in your neck. Your arms are wrapped tightly around her, shielding her from the rapid winds whipping through the door and broken windows. There’s glass all over the floor and the beds are overturned. The nurse cowers beside you and Gabi, her hand in one of yours, the other gripping the safety bar attached to the wall. It’s an attempt to keep the three of you from falling as the room shakes and dips from Donald’s superpowered tantrum.

Even terrified both you and her are trying to protect his daughter, his heart swells for a moment.

“Y/N, y/n, we’re saved.” She says, shaking your hand slightly.

You look up, and your eyes meet Miguel’s.

It’s as if someone drove a spike through his heart. Your face is tear stained, your eyes wide with fear, your body trembling as you hug Gabi tightly.

“It’s okay, sweetheart, Spiderman is here to save us.” Your voice is shaking, but you try to run a comforting hand down Gabi’s back.

Gabi lifts her head, and the stake is driven further in. She’s utterly terrified.

“Te tengo mija, todo está bien.” He calls to her over the roaring winds. Trsl: I got you daughter, everything is good/okay.

Gabi nods at him, her bottom lip trembling as she tries to stop her tears.

“Victoria, baby, please, I’m sorry.” Donald says, floating to the empty doorway.

“You’re sorry? You’re sorry? What the hell kind of apology is this, Donald?” Victoria shouts, rising to her feet, still holding onto the safety bar and you.

“I just wanted to show you that I’m strong now, like you wanted.” Donald explains, desperation clear in his tone.

“I wanted to strengthen our marriage, not for you to get dangerous superpowers.” Victoria retorts, her face a portrait of frustration and disbelief. She releases the safety bar, and your hand, as she steps forward.

Miguel takes the opportunity to lunge, tackling Donald to the floor and raking his claws down his chest, one hand around his throat. “You’re a fucking coward, attacking a school because you couldn’t be enough of a man and try to fix your marriage? You’re pathetic.” He growls, tightening his grip on Donald.

Donald sputters in response, then his eyes begin to flutter shut and everything begins to fall.

Gabi screams, you scream, Victoria screams and Miguel releases Donald, then grabs Victoria using a web to sling her safely to the ground.

When he turns back to get you and Gabi, he feels something grab his ankle.

Donald is hanging on by a thread, using the last bit of his strength to attempt to drag Miguel away.

Miguel kicks him off hard, the sound of bones cracking as Donald’s grip fails.

Everything feels too fast and too slow. The building is falling, fast, fast, fast, and his steps are slow, slow, slow. After what feels like a lifetime, he grabs you and Gabi slinging a web, yanking the three of you out of the building and onto a nearby balcony.

You collapse onto the ground, hyperventilating, and Gabi is sobbing, clinging to him, so tight he’s afraid she might accidentally choke him.

He kneels down, one hand on Gabi’s back, the other gently raising your head. “It’s over, y/n, you’re safe.”

You fling yourself at him, sobbing into his shoulder, shallow, frantic breaths a harsh symphony alongside Gabi’s own sobs.

“It’s alright, you’re safe, both of you. I’m here, I’ll always protect you, it’s over now.” He soothes, pressing a kiss to the crown of Gabi’s head, then yours.

“I was so scared, I didn’t know what to do, Miguel, I—I thought we were going to di—”

“No, never. I’ll always find you; I’ll always save you, both of you. You’re my girls, nothing is more precious than you two.” His voice is firm but gentle, even though he’s trembling too.

“Papá, I couldn’t do anything, my powers didn’t work.” Gabi sobs.

The three of you have been testing Gabi’s powers for a few weeks now, in between you and Miguel going on secret dates. She’s come a long way, and he’s proud of the progress she’s making, but he never wanted her to think she had to handle a supervillain on her own. Not now, she’s still a baby, his baby.

His heart is shattered, and he holds her tighter. “Oh mija, that’s okay, this was an adult mess not a kid mess, this wasn’t for you to handle.”

He didn’t lose her, she’s right here, his daughter is safe.

Your breathing finally begins to calm, but you keep your head buried in Miguel’s shoulder, your grip on him bone-crushingly tight, but he doesn’t mind.

“You kept her safe for me y/n, thank you.” He whispers.

You pull back slowly, wiping the tears from your face. “Miguel…I didn’t do anything, you saved us, you kept us safe.”

“You kept her safe y/n, you kept her as calm as possible for the situation. You did the best you could, and I’m proud of you.”

You beam at him, a watery, shaky smile, but a smile, nonetheless. “Thank you.”

“I don’t know what I’d do if I lost either of you.” He admits scanning the area before his mask disappears.

“I…I can’t imagine my life without you two, I know it sounds crazy but, I just can’t.” You breathe, your eyes locked on his, searching them for something.

“Marry me.” He says. It’s spontaneous, ridiculous, completely inappropriate, and you’re probably going to think he’s insane but—

“Yes, yes, yes, I’ll marry you.” You say, flinging your arms around his neck and crashing your lips to his.

He’s ecstatic, especially when Gabi begins to cheer, her tears instantly drying up.

“Yay! New mom! Ms. Y/N is my mom!” She cheers, wriggling between you and him.

He opens his arms wider and crushes you both to his chest. “I love you, both of you, more than—”

“Boss, hi, sorry, umm your ex-wife is at your apartment.” Lyla chimes in, a sour look on her face.

“¡Ay coño!” Trsl: Oh fuck

Tag list: @miggyoharaswife, @badbishsblog, @imisshim2much, @wanderlustingcastaway, @lynn-9703, @sleepyamaya, @erensbbg, @sweetea85, @ilovemiguelohara, @natthernandez, @stxrrielle, @ihateuguys, @jenniferdixon05207, @blep-23, @luvisaaxoxo, @minimari415, @emerald-09, @violet-19999, @kenchosaikuo, @groovycass, @youcantseem3, @lovefks, @nightshxdex, @dusstory, @aesniri, @munsonssecretblog, @kirke-is-my-name, @starbearieee, @chatoicboy, @act1839, @needsleep3000, @totally-not-georgia, @witchy-lizard, @cxmeiloorun7, @justrandomlolidk, @chimpkinnuggies, @alicefallsintotherabbithole, @loser-alert, @wwwellacom, @ryantryan6969, @lollipopin, @blakeaha, @youcantseem3, @a-cult-leader, @verexi, @purpleskiesandroses, @they2luv1naia, @sophiaj650, @idolautism, @rheannajrs, @merakiq, @rexs-wife, @sukaretto-n, @twilight-loveer, @f1shb0nez, @callsign-blue, @marcelineormars

[undertalebabbleblog]

UTDR 9th Anniversary Newsletter Musings

(Here's a link to the newsletter if you haven't already read it: Autumn 2024.) (It's spring right now where I am...) (Eh, oh well.)

First of all, Tori blowing fire to light the candles, very cool, might have to draw that.

Hmm, that's a lot of a certain number... You know what, I don't even have to go into this, we all know what it's referencing.

An interview with Sans, heck yeah!

As I expected, it's a joke, but... uh... just me, or does it seem like it might be talking about something else? Not entirely sure what, but I'm sure there's already plenty of theories despite it literally only coming out today. In any case, it was very amusing and some classic Undertale humour. Also

Jeez, Tori, it's been years, you've already made your feelings about Asgore's actions clear. Give the poor guy a break. (Link to the full interview if you wanna read it: Sans: What do you think about the number nine?)

...Toby? Toby, what does this mean? TOBY WHY DO YOU MAKE THE MOST INNOCUOUS STATEMENTS THAT HAVE SO MUCH POTENTIAL MEANING BEHIND THEM ...This is... ominous, to say the least, given the Snowgrave route and the fact that Toriel might join us in the Dark World in Chapter 3... ...I'm just overthinking this, right? ..........right???

Toby, this is the Undertale fandom you're talking to. Since when have we ever been responsible with Sans or his AUs? You should know better than to trust us with this skeleton by now. *Proceeds to use cup for strawberry milkshake* ....Dammit, now I want to draw him with a bunch of different-coloured eyes... just because...

Never misses a chance to do this sort of thing, does he? (It has my real name in it, which I don't really want to show, so have some badly edited screenshots instead.) I have made butterscotch cinnamon pie before and it was genuinely delicious. Would love to bake one in that Toriel pie tray. ...I wonder how a fish and chips pie would actually taste, though...?

PERFECTION

I would buy every single item of this kitchen merch if I had the money.

*vibrating intensely with excitement*

Very nice, always cool to see unused stuff and concepts.

. . .

*Well, there is a man here. *He might be happy to see you. *What do you think?

...I overthink these things too much.

And finally, we get a letter.

My best friend's favorite number is nine. It's because there isn't a number that's higher. 9. 99. 999. 9999. If everything gets high enough, You become invincible. Nothing can hurt you anymore. Nothing can hurt anyone anymore. But isn't it scary, to think there's a highest number? That, if you made 99 good memories, you couldn't hold anymore. So I don't like to keep count of the flowers we pick, or the times that they laugh, or how many scary faces they make. I just hope we'll be friends for 999 more years.

(Couldn't screenshot the whole thing because it was too big, so I just copied the text. Here's a link to the original: Letter) On one hand, the spacing is kind of reminiscent of what we assume is Gaster. But on the other hand, it's not in all caps, and the language is different, and from what we know of the mysterious scientist (which is quite frankly very little), it wouldn't make sense. There is, however, someone else that would make a lot more sense.

*I'll go get the flowers. *I should have laughed it off, like you did... *Okay, [Name], are you ready? *Do your creepy face!

And most telling of all, "My best friend"...

It's. It's Asriel. IT'S GOTTA BE AZZY OKAY COME ON, THERE'S THE MENTION OF THE SCARY FACES AND EVERYTHING

...Ahem.

My hypothesis is that it's Asriel Dreemurr.

Aaaaannnddd... that's it for this newsletter! I needed somewhere to dump my thoughts on it, and that's kinda what this blog is for, so yeah.

A very happy birthday to my favourite game of all time.

If you have any theories or observations about the newsletter, I'd love to see them!

See ya next time, Pup

[sunnyie-eve]

20 | Protective

Series: Unexpected

Paring: (Matt Sturniolo x OFC Brock!) (Chris Sturniolo x OFC Brock!)

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: Colby being a protective brother

| MASTERLIST |

"Colby! Why the hell is my room a mess?!" Dani shouts walking into her room as she was visiting for the weekend.

"Oh, about that..." He awkwardly laughs.

"What about it?" She crosses his arms.

"We had a friend stay over so he used your room."

"And you couldn't have cleaned it up before I got here?" She asks so he says he'll do it for her, "Exactly." She leaves her stuff going downstairs.

"Are you excited to curl Colby's hair for your channel?" Sam asks Dani.

"Yeah, I wanna see how funny he will look." She says as her phone goes off.

Matt: Are you there yet?

Dani: Yeah, just got here.

"Who you texting?" Sam asks trying to look over her shoulder.

"A friend making sure I got here okay." She puts her phone away.

"One of the brothers?"

"Yes, one of the brothers. I said my friend didn't I?" She smiles.

It took Colby about two hours to clean up the room that's how bad it was till he could join Dani and Sam downstairs to start for the video. Dani sets up with the help of Sam while Colby just sits on the couch.

"I'm still upset you ditched us." Colby looks at Dani as she sits next to him.

"I can't stay forever." She laughs at him.

"Still single?" He gives her a look.

"I'm still single."

"Good," He nods his head, "I was terrified there was gonna be a different answer." He says as Sam joins them, "You're constantly doing something and posting things."

"So no trust in me?" It was her turn to give him a look.

"Colby, she's 20 let her live." Sam speaks up.

"She is living, Sam. She moved away and lives with three guys now." Colby tells him.

"But no dating?"

"Exactly." He nods his head agreeing to that, "Not after that ex."

"Da-," Sam starts, "Dani, don't listen to him."

"I mean, I had a fake boyfriend to get a guy to leave me alone." Dani adds laughing a bit.

"Which one?" Colby asks her which makes her laugh.

"Which one? You assume it's one of the triplets?" She asks taking her clips out of his hair.

"Then who else?" Sam asks her.

"It was Matt."

"Dani, do I gotta have a talk?" Colby picks up his head to look at her.

"With me or with Matt?" She asks confused.

"Matt, you better watch out dude." Colby looks at the camera.

"What about Chris?" Sam asks him, "Have you seen them together?"

"You know what..." Dani pulls her clip out that was tangled in Colby's hair so she pulls on it causing him to scream out in pain. "Stop talking about my friendship with the boys."

"So who are you the closest to?" Sam asks her, "Still Nick?"

"She's known him the longest." Colby answers.

"I kinda wanna say Matt." She answers for herself thinking about it.

"Really?" Colby asks in a protective tone.

"Why Matt?" Sam asks wanting to know more.

"Tell us." Colby adds.

"You guys did bond in the elevator." Sam tells her.

"Oh, you're editing that part."

"They have stuff in common." Sam tells Colby.

"I knew that as a bad idea." Colby sighs, "Now your best friends are three brothers you happened to move in with." He chuckles as Dani shouts in pain from burning herself with her curler.

"Be careful Dani." Sam tells her, "It's a nice curl." He looks at it.

"You do this to your roommates?" Colby asks her as she continues.

"They already have nice hair so no."

"Who's the best looking?" Sam decides to mess with her.

"There's so many reasons why I won't answer and mostly because of this thing." Dani says poking Colby's arm with a smile.

"Colby, you that means she has a crush." Sam nudges him which makes Colby whine.

"No," Dani huffs.

"You can tell him." Sam says as she goes back to curling Colby's hair.

"You need to watch it Sam before you give her ideas." Colby looks at him, "Or Matt or Chris any ideas too."

"I'm playing around just to tease Dani. You're the protective one while I'm the teasing one." Sam explains to him.

"They're my friends guys and you two are gonna make things awkward."

"I'm just being a protective brother."

Once she as done with Colby's hair he ends up talking a shower since his hair was dirty. Dani was in her room watching tv laying in bed comfortably till her phone went off and it was Nick calling her.

"Hey hey," She answers the call.

"How is it going? Is Colby going to keep you hostage?" He laughs lying in his bed.

"Who knows."

"Hope not. Matt and Chris would lose their minds." He makes her laugh.

"Speaking of those two... Colby and Sam wouldn't leave me alone about them. Who are you the closest to? You still single? Do I gotta have a chat with Matt? She has a crush..." Dani rants to him.

"They have to pick on you. One is your brother and the other is like one." Nick tells her.

"I know but it was while we filmed for my channel. It was the whole time so I can't edit those parts out or I would have no video." She rolls over onto her stomach propping her phone up.

"Yeah, that kind of sucks." He agrees with her.

"Why can't people just stop overthinking my friendship with your brothers?" She groans and whines at the same time.

"Because people no matter how close they are to you are a pain in the ass. Especially since guys and girls can't just be friends in most of their eyes." He explains to her.

"Well in my case I am."

"And you have no little crushes on either one?" He asks her, "You know you can tell me."

"Seriously Nick?" She gives him a look.

"What? Like I would tell either one of them. I would understand if you did because I know my brothers and even though in the past I said they weren't your type... I was clearly wrong."

"Just because I'm getting close to them doesn't mean anything. Neither does it mean anything if I agree they are good looking. You can't just like someone based on their appearance. It's about the personality, how they make you feel, how well you connect and so many other factors." She tells him.

"What I'm getting at by all of that is that you could have a crush on Matt." He smiles a bit.

"No, because I can also place Chris in the same position." She laughs.

"Dani, you spend more time with Matt since you moved in. You two are basically the same person." Nick huffs.

"I don't have a thing for either of your bothers, Nick. Stop acting like others too."

"Okay, I'm done. I'm sorry. I trust you. I'll let you go. See you when you get back, love." Nick ends the phone call.

Pain in my ass

[midgardian-witch]

Hi there. Could you do the prompt “Because I don’t want to do anything I’d end up regretting because I couldn’t control myself…” w/ Jake Lockley?

Oooh that prompt is just so good for Jake 😏 So yes absolutely. I got you, anon 👍

Where To?

tags: friends to lovers | sexual tension | Jake is a little shit | slight teasing | gn!reader

ships: Jake Lockley/Reader

AO3

Edit: added AO3 link

“Because I don’t want to do anything I’d end up regretting because I couldn’t control myself…”

"Alright, you bastard. We gotta talk."

You don't give him any time to react as you slide into the passenger seat of his cab. Jake just looks at you with his trademark grin and a raised eyebrow.

"Couldn't stay away, could you?"

You have the urge to slap his stupid, handsome face. Instead you groan at his antics.

"Oh, you wish! You've been avoiding me for weeks now. And I want an explanation, Lockley!"

He seems nonplussed by the righteous anger burning inside of you. As if on autopilot he starts the car and turns towards the road.

"Where to?"

He's not really asking you that, is he? How dare he treat you like just another customer after ignoring you for fucking weeks.

"You fucking asshole. I don't want you to drive me anywhere, I want to talk!"

You push his shoulder without much energy behind it. When he doesn't react you sigh, all your anger and frustration turning to desperation.

"Come on! We've known each other for so long. Don't I deserve an explanation at least?"

You can't look at him, instead you turn your gaze towards your hands which have found their rest in your lap.

There is only the sound of the car engine for a long time. You're about to get out of the cab again when you hear his voice again.

"I'm sorry."

Your hand hovers over the car door, too afraid to make any more movements lest he stop talking.

"If you’re so sorry, then why did you try to avoid me so much?"

“Because I don’t want to do anything I’d end up regretting because I couldn’t control myself…”

With furrowed eyebrows you turn back to him. He looks at you with such heat in his eyes you feel like you're going to melt under his gaze.

He places his hand on your knee and even through his gloves and the fabric of your clothes you can feel the warmth radiating off of him. You gasp at the contact.

Jake leans over to you, his face so close to yours now that you swear you can feel his breath against your skin.

"I can't just be around you like this. This friendly flirting thing we have going on? Yeah, that doesn't cut it anymore."

His gloved hand slowly travels further up your thigh and you feel desire spark in your abdomen.

"Not when all I can think about is how much I want to bend you over the hood of my car and fuck you until you can't walk anymore."

Your breath hitches and you can feel your face heating up. It's not like you weren't attracted to Jake for a long time. You just didn't think he liked you that way too; you had already made peace with that. Until now.

His eyes turn dark as he watches your reactions. With a pleased hum his thumb draws lazy circles into the inside of your thigh.

"I thought you didn't want that, so I stepped away. Maybe I was wrong about that."

He grins at you, like the cat that got the canary. Jake leans forward even further, your lips just barely touching, your heart threatening to beat out of your chest.

"Tell me you want this. Just one word and I am yours."

"Yes", you murmur into his lips before you kiss him. It's heedy, mind-melting and way too short.

He breaks away from you and you're embarrassed by the whine that escapes you at the loss.

Jake's grin just spreads wider, just a hint of teeth showing.

"As much as I want to fuck you in my cab, you deserve better than that for our first time."

First time. Which means he planned on there being multiple times. Good, because you already know once would not be enough after years of sexual tension.

He turns back to the road and licks his lips.

"Where to, mi vida? My place or yours?"

[welcometomyworldbabes]

i'm sorry ~ part III

background: You’ve been friends with Shawn, as well as Cory, since your best friend Topanga introduced you to them. You immediately hit it off, and the four of you have been friends ever since. But recently, you’ve realized that you might have feelings for Shawn.

pronouns used: she/her

warning: none

author’s note: i know it took me a while but here is part III. this isn’t really edited, i wanted to get this out as soon as possible. unlike the other 2 parts, this part is entirely in your p.o.v. if you haven’t already, please read part one and part two so you’re caught up! there will be a part IV, so stay tuned and enjoy!

.

.

.

“Y/N! Shawn’s at the door for you!”

I didn’t want to see him let alone talk to him. But I also didn’t want to talk to my parents about why I didn’t want to.

“Can you tell him to come up here?”

“Hey…”

“Hey.”

“You know, I didn’t actually think that you’d want to talk to me,” he laughed.

I looked down as I answered. “I didn’t...”

He sighs as he says, “Look, I’m real sorry Y/N/N–”

“Alright.”

He steps closer to me. “I mean it. I-I shouldn’t have left you alone-”

“Is that why you think I’m mad at you?”

“Well, that and…” He stuffed his hands in his pockets and mumbled, “...not looking for you.”

“...Okay.”

“That’s it? Okay?”

“What do you want me to say?”

He ran his hands through his hair. “C’mon Y/N…”

“No, seriously, how did you expect this to go?” I started. “What you did wasn’t an accident: it was a choice. It was your choice to ask me instead of the girl you actually wanted to be with. It was your choice to leave me without saying anything. And it was your choice to spend the night with the girl you wanted to go with.”

He’s visibly nervous. His hands are deep in his pockets, he’s rocking back and forth, and he’s staring at the ground. I wonder if he can feel my eyes on him. A part of me wanted to feel bad for making him uncomfortable, but that feeling quickly went away when I remembered what Topanga told me on our way home that night.

“It wasn’t the fact that you left me to go hookup with someone that made me mad, I mean that was part of it, but I would have just let that go…Do you want to know what really hurt me?”

Shawn slowly looks up at me, his eyes bearing into mine.

“Cory and Topanga went looking for us because we had “disappeared”. Topanga found you, and when she told you that she couldn’t find me, you said you were “preoccupied” and brushed it off like it was no big deal.”

“Y/N/N I swear, I-I wasn’t thinking, I didn’t mean it.”

“Why would you even say something like that to begin with? Especially about someone that you call your best friend?”

He adverted his eyes, he couldn’t even look at me.

Good.

“I could’ve been in that bathroom with Leonardo DiCaprio, and I would still would have left to go find you. Because that’s what you do when you care about someone…Do you even care about me, Shawn?”

I hated the fact that my voice cracked, but I was seriously a few words away from crying, and I didn’t want to look at him anymore.

“Of course I do,” he replied. I could feel his hesitance as he made his way closer to me. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am about the things that I said, the things that I did. I was caught up in a moment and I wasn’t listening. And I-I know that’s not an excuse and I’m not trying to say it is. It was stupid, I was stupid. And wrong, so, so wrong. I shouldn’t have left you without saying anything, and I should have been there for you, I know. No one should feel like they’re not wanted…”

He brought his hand up to my face, turning it to face him.

“…especially you.”

We stayed like that, staring into each other's eyes in silence, until he wrapped his arm around me and joked: “…and I should know, neither of my parents wanted me.”

“Shawn…”

“Okay, I know, I shouldn’t joke about that, but still. I care about you so much, Y/N. I never meant to hurt you, you gotta believe that. And I’ll do anything, and I mean anything, to make it up to you…”

I just looked at him. I didn’t really know what to say.

“I-I don’t want to be the reason I lose you, Y/N/N.”

[midnightartemis]

Rooftop

Eddie x Steve

Tags: Dom/Sub Vibes, mentions of Voyeurism/Virginity, Dom Eddie, Sub Steve, use of pet names, use of ‘dyke’ but in an endearing way

Eddie calls out Steve for being Robin’s beard.

AN: A short little Drabble/one shot for now but might expand into something longer. I’m thinking a 90s college AU where Steve and Eddie don’t meet in high school. Also I wrote this on my phone in the car and haven’t edited it so sorry for any mistakes

Rating: M

There was something more about Eddie on the rooftop. Away from the party the flashing lights and all the noise Eddie looked like he could breath again. The lights of the city reflected in his eyes dark, round, and beautiful. Steve had to make himself stop staring.

“So,” a small smirk came to Eddie’s lips. “You and Robin, huh?”

“Oh, yeah, yeah.” Steve shifted uncomfortably and shoved his hands in his pockets. The unsettling feeling returned to his gut and she couldn’t shake the feeling that Eddie was making fun of him in some way. “Robin. She’s great.”

“Oh, yeah?” Eddie stepped in closer to him. “You two done it? What’s your favorite position?”

“I- What- Ed,” Steve sputtered.

Eddie burst out laughing. “How the fuck are you fooling anyone?”

“What? We’re not- We- I,” panic rose like bile in Steve’s throat.

“You think I can’t see a dyke in sheep’s clothing, Stevie?” Eddie’s amused grin did nothing to comfort Steve’s fear. “You’re her beard.”

“I- You can’t tell anyone.” Steve managed to squeeze out between breaths.

Eddie’s amusement softened. “Steve, no I’m not going to tell anyone. I— Do you really not know?”

“Know?” It was taking everything he had not to deck Eddie, to revert to that guy he was in high school that tried to solve everything with his fists. Eddie didn’t know about him. He was just being a good friend to Robin. There was nothing wrong with that— there was—

Eddie’s lips pressed against his and Steve froze.

It was short. Quick. Blinking and you could have missed it. By the time Steve’s brain rebooted Eddie’s face had fallen.

“Did I— Have I severely misread the situation?”

Eddie just kissed him.

Eddie just shared an incredibly shitty kiss with him.

Steve had to fix that problem.

“Shit.” Eddie wiped a hand over his lips and took a step for the door. “I— I’ve gotta go.”

But Steve had always been quick as he grabbed Eddie’s wrist and pulled him back in for a proper kiss this time. “Don’t go.”

Eddie grinned against his lips. “Wouldn’t dream of it, baby.”

Steve opened his mouth to say more but couldn’t find words better than tasting Eddie again. He could taste the nicotine and booze and underneath all that something sweet and uniquely Eddie. Every kiss before this one just felt like practice. But nothing could have prepared him for the feeling of Eddie’s hands on his waist pulling him closer then guiding him back until Steve hit a brick wall.

“Fuck, I should have known your lips are sin.” Eddie whispered.

“Please.” Steve felt like he was dying. That was the only explanation for this.

“Please, what, Princess?” Eddie smirked. Steve groaned at the bolt of electricity that zipped through him. “You like that name?”

“Eddie…” Where had his sanity gone? How had Eddie instantly turned him to putty with just a kiss and some words?

“The things I want to do to you, Princess,” Eddie trails hot, burning kisses along Steve’s jaw. “Can’t be done on a rooftop where just anyone can see.”

The thought of someone watching this, someone seeing Eddie debauch him like this, left Steve gasping. Which only made Eddie grin wider. “Unless you like that sort of thing. Not so much of an Angel are we, Stevie?”

“Fuck me.” Steve let his head his the brick wall. He wasn’t sure how much of this he could take. Eddie had barely touched him and he was already about to cum in his pants.

“If you insist.” Eddie’s teeth grazed his neck. “Your place or mine.”

Oh god. This was happening. This was really happening. There was a party happening two floors below him where Robin was waiting for him and Eddie fucking Munson was propositioning him for—

“I’m a virgin.” Steve cringed as Eddie pulled back.

“Not sure where that came from because I know for certain you are not.” There was a tone of amusement in Eddie’s voice that made Steve turn beet red.

“I’m a… Guy virgin.” The fear that Eddie might not want him now settled like acid in his stomach. “I’ve never… You know.”

“Had sex with a guy?”

Steve nodded. He couldn’t make himself look up at Eddie for fear of what he might find there.

“Do you want to take things slow, baby?” Eddie gently brought Steve’s chin up. “I’m more than okay with that.”

The words caught in his throat as he saw the earnestness in Eddie’s eyes. He nodded. “I still— — I’ve got to get Robin back home. But can we—“

Eddie pulled a sharpie out of his back pocket and took Steve’s hand. He wrote down an address and a phone number on it. “Take care of your girl. Then come here. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Steve breathed.

Eddie stole his breath away with one more kiss then left him up on the rooftop. Steve touched his lips as the door closed. The skyline of the city twinkled back at him as the chill of the night returned to him. Steve took a deep breath and adjusted himself before following after Eddie.

*If you enjoyed this, let me know by Reblogging! Thanks for reading :) *

[the-s1lly-corner]

Knubbler hcs (Fluff alphabet edition)

Ik I just posted a fluff list to do with CRP characters last post but I also wanna do it with Knubbler because this fucker has been on my mine for WEEKS and I gotta feed my fellow dick enjoyers

Obvious heads up on heavy hc stuff since we don't have much on this dude RAAAAAAAH + still developing my hcs

Long since its A-Z, not proof read and I wrote this in one sitting I need to be put down

Attraction-

Torn between wanting to say he has high standards but I'm a dickface shipper sooo (/lh)

I can't explain it but I feel like he'd be into the feistier people; more dominant and outspoken, that sort of thing, ballsy. Also balancing with being chill so it's not just. Constant energy

Balance, you know

Appearance wise? I'm stumped tbh so maybe I'll revisit this later some day

Bonding-

While he enjoys dragging you around and spoiling you (getting into that for D + G), he does enjoy time spent at home with you! Knubblers always been the type of person to sit by a fire reading a book with a glass of wine; in a robe of course

At least he does to me

Calm stuff like that is a must

Oh how I crave domestic life hcs with this man

Cuddling-

I don't have PDA on this list so imma let it be said, this man loves affection, giving and receiving. Absolutely adores being all over you at all times and not at all afraid to show you off

Going to the actual prompt he doesnt care if you're larger or smaller than him, if you sprawl yourself over his chest he will melt!!!! Hold each other!!!

Dates-

This man is going to pour so much money into these dates

Could just be because we saw him take Abigail out to dinner but my brain defaults to restuarant dates, but otherwise I feel he's also a museum enjoyer (historical, art, ect)

Emotion-

Of course since this for reader insert stuff I can't exactly say who's more emotional so we're relying on Knubbler

I feel like. He's moderate, based on his interactions with Dethklok

He's patient by a considerable amount but has his limits

Absolutely pours his heart and guts out to you when hes drunk, though, not that he doesnt already shower you with compliments and affirmations

Wanna put him at a 6.5/10 when sober, and solid 8/10 when drunk

Family-

He doesn't strike me as the type to want kids, honestly, not that he has anything against them though, it's simply not what he wants

I saw someone hc a while back that he would have a bunch of siblings and I'm HARD agreeing on that + adding my own thing that hes an uncle

Need to write a silly fic where he's assigned as babysitter for a day (I desperately need more solo/knubbler centered stuff)

Gift Giving-

Nearly every week or so he will buy you something from flowers to jewelry to stuffed animals to fancy chocolates to really anything

If you so much as mention vaguely wanting something hes pulling out his wallet

This dude is likely loaded (based on working for Dethklok and being successful prior judging by the newspapers at the end of episode 2) so he's not afraid to drop some cash for you

As for receiving gifts he doesn't hold you to the same standard regardless of your income but he would be thrilled with anything you give him, I feel like hes a jewelry guy but maybe that's just because I like drawing him with rings

I feel like he'd go bonkers for baked good though

Harsh-

You guys may butt heads but you guys probably wouldn't argue too much outside of the basic disagreements that happen in every relationship!! Usually apologies for lashing out (if he does that in that particular argument) but will refuse to apologize if there's an actual problem that needs to be addressed (if said problem is on your end)

King of compromises (learned trait from working with bands me thinks)

Injury-

Depends on the severity

Knows very very basic first aid (cleaning, applying pressure if it's an open bleeding wound, cool water if it's a burn, ect) but more than that he's lost

Swearing and a bit of panic if it's something more serious, this is true for if hes the one hurt as well

If you're the one hurt hes going to hover all over you. Oh nooo please dont tell him hes your savior/hero, please don't make him reel good for pampering you oh NOOOOOOO (stares)

If hes the ome hurt hes going to bask in the attention if he needs to be taken care of, hypes up splinters/j

This stuff also applies to sickness

Jealousy-

Oh this is one jealous motherfucker. He will *glare* with those red pin prick robotic eyes of his

If someone's flirting with you he will saunter over and wrap an arm around you, loudly and sharply calls you babe to get the point across

^Kinda cliche but I feel like this man is a sucker for tropes

But if you're like actively uncomfortable I think he might have to intervene

See: his criminal record and the fact he "knows people who can 'take care of someone'", whether he'd actually follow through depends

Kisses-

Recieving he loves when you kiss his face; mouth, cheeks, nose

Giving, really everything is fair game if you give the go ahead; has a particular fixation on your hands (backs and knuckles), cheeks, and neck

Love anything from quick pecks to full on make out sessions

Love Language-

Physical touch and gift giving! Sometimes the gift giving can get intense since hes so ready to treat you like royalty but he doesnt mean anything malicious by it

As for receiving he has a soft spot for affirmations

Marriage-

He goes either way I think, but leans further to no marriage

That doesn't mean hes any less committed to you, though

You guys probably get matching rings even if there isn't a ceremony or legal thing, I think

No-

A deal breaker is like. If you're genuinely a bad person or a threat to his career

Like theres a difference between the shit Dethklok gets into and what you would have to do for him to cut you off full stop

Though I'm stumped on what exactly would call for that outside of being a genuinely horrible person, maybe I'll revisit this later

Oddity-

His laugh is the first thing I can think of. While I think the original is silly and cute in its own way, I'm kinda glad they changed it in the movie

He laughs at his own jokes and has a killer hair routine he follows religiously. Shitty innuendos, too. I am not going to let this man live down the hot dog thing and I KNOW it ain't a one off thing there is no way, this man gets no bitches (using Nathan's "you're horrible with women" comment as leverage)

Outside of that I dont think there's many quirks or habits that are worth mentioning

Petnames-

By law he has to call you Baby/Babe but I can also see him saying Hon/Honey, maybe even Sweetheart

Loves being called things like Dear and Darling

Question-

Loves coming to you to ask if you wanna give a second opinion on something hes working on, work related or not! Hes more than confident in his skills regarding sound engineering, but he likes getting the attention and time from you

Risk-

Skipping this because I'm truly stumped on trying to figure out how far hes willing to go in a relationship in terms of taking risks

SHH-

Has a few secrets, ranging from personal stuff to things that ultimately don't concern you

And that's okay, as long as it's not anything that can screw you or the relationship over, privacy is necessary

Probably has a lot of secrets surrounding dumb or embarrassing stuff hes done before and during the relationship

Tunes-

Obligatory I have a funky sense of music and while I want to choose a song that fits the time period of the main show to the decades before I'm a bit lost. Also I dont generally listen to love songs/songs that can be passed off as ones if you squint. So you guys get 2 songs that give me knubbler x (reader/oc insert) vibes

And

Upset-

When Knubbler is upset he shuts himself off and tries to get over whatever funk hes in, usually a glass or two is involved

Occasionally he'll seek you out for comfort or validation

If you're the one upset he's already lending you an ear and offering a shoulder to lean on (metaphorically and literally), gets mad on your behalf if someone upset you and offers solutions if it was something else

I like to think that you guys dedicate nights for venting and unloading on drama and bullshit. Like two gossiping moms

Valentine-

He is not holding back

You wake up to breakfast and gifts. He takes you out all day for shopping, you guys come home to get ready for dinner and a movie

Things definitely get.. intimate

But this is a SFW blog so I am not going to elaborate

Wedding-

If there is a wedding you guys make sure it's straight out of a storybook; dream wedding basically

Since he's not too worried about getting married I'd assume it makes sense that he lends most the power to you when it comes to decorating

Xray-

Urges you to communicate your feelings outwardly and verbally since hes not a mind reader, but he does pick up on certain behaviors to give him a general idea of how you're feeling

He doesn't want to push too hard, though, so he tries to offer an environment where there's open communication

Yearning-

Stealing this from my friend but hc that Knubbler actually would not know how to react to someone genuinely having an interest in him, at least in the beginning

Like he knows he's not the ugliest or the most horrible person but he doesnt think hes a heartthrob

So when you come along and actually get him to sit and settle down with someone he kinda. Doesn't know how to feel about being on his own/seperated

Like he can still function but hes finding himself thinking about you a lot; from wondering how your day is to things he wants to tell you when you guys are reunited

Zzz-

As mentioned before he loves cuddling so be ready for him to hold onto you

Prefers soft and light covers compared to heavier ones

Probably yoinks the blanket while he's sleeping

Probably snores

Bonus hc I think his robo eyes can be taken out, like for charging and he has a lil case for them. Has a sleeping mask so nothing gets into his sockets + he understands how it looks to others (especially if they wake up half asleep in the dark and arent used to the empty sockets yet)

[crackedpumpkin]

|| ʙᴀᴅ ɴᴇᴡꜱ || 08 ||

[ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 ] | [ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ] | [ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ]

“No.”

Ren, the student council president looks at you with a sigh, having skimmed through the proposal you handed to him in the morning. He places it down on his desk, pinching the space between his brows and massaging it with a grimace. “I already told you that the school won’t let this run.”

Ever since Hiro had suggested the idea to you, it’d taken root in your mind, planting new ideas here and there until you made a whole proposal, PowerPoint presentation and all you’d used to persuade Leo to be on your side. Suffice it to say it worked. 

The urgent article had been published without issue, but it quickly got edited to put the school in a good light by Ren. It’d taken a little over a week to put everything together, but now you’re ready. The proposal is bulletproof. 

“But,” You raise a suggestive brow, “you and I both know that you want this to be printed.” He pauses, barely opening an eye to give you a frosty stare. You simply smile widely in return, knowing full well that regardless of how much the students and teachers like him, or how well-off he is, he doesn’t like how the school operates. 

“Look,” You sit down on the armchair reserved for special guests in the spacious lounge, glancing down at another paper with words underlined in prominent red ink. A slight squint reveals that they’re all things that can be improved on in the school, with your journalism club being given more of the school’s budget. “I don’t like whatever the school’s doing, and I sure as hell don’t know why you’re still here when your parents could’ve transferred you elsewhere,” a slight narrowing of his eyes makes you skip over that subject quickly, “but the journalism club was made to give the students a voice.”

You can sense him considering your words, so you barrel on, not intending to stop. Hiro had given you a match, and you’d be damned if it isn’t going to start a fire. “So many students agree with me about the school’s stupid measures, and they won’t even listen unless we do something about it! Are you ready to watch everyone be denied their bathroom rights? What if someone’s still pooping and the lights turn off? They’d be terrified!”

“Those are the examples you chose to go with?” He raises a brow. You wince.

“Okay, maybe not the best ones to start with. But think about it. If we publish this and make sure it gets out there, they’ll listen. They won’t have a choice, right? And I’ll be sure not to credit you in it in case it goes wrong - which it won’t,” You quickly add, watching his nose scrunch. 

He’s silent, staring down at the proposal where you’d outlined all the benefits and reasons why you should do this. You’re not sure whether to move; it feels as if though as soon as you do, he’d shoot it down faster than before. The ticking of the clock above the whiteboard is almost ominous, but the rhythmic sound clams you somewhat. You’re confident in this; confident that you’ll be able to convince him.

All you need is a moment. A moment of hesitation, a moment of recognition, a moment of acknowledgement that you have something solid. And as soon as you spot it, you lunge. 

— — — — —

You slam open the doors to the journalism clubroom with an air of victory. Leo turns around in his spinny chair at the sound, eyes wide and jaw dropped in excitement.

“You didn’t…”

“Oh yes, yes I did.” Your wide grin is starting to hurt your cheeks, but this doesn’t phase you in the slightest, marching over to him and staring him down. “I just got Ren’s stuffy butt to approve our proposal. You and I? We’re gonna head this together.”

Leo takes off his glasses, wiping them as he ponders for a moment. “Don’t you have work? Are you sure it’s a good idea to juggle everything, including school?” 

“I’ll be fine,” you wave off his concerns, sitting down in your own designated spinny chair in the mildly cramped room and turning on your computer. “First, we gotta plan this out.”

“Not now you won’t,” he snorts, getting up from his seat and walking to the door. He opens it, pausing in the doorway. “Your shift starts in thirty minutes. It takes you twenty to reach there from here.”

“Oh crap, you’re right. I’ll call Cass. Thanks!” You race out the doorway, grabbing your bag on the way. Leo shakes his head with a disapproving sigh, though a hint of an amused smile ghosts his lips. 

It does in fact take about twenty minutes to reach the Lucky Cat Cafe. Well, nineteen minutes and thirty seconds to be exact. But who’s counting? 

Apparently Hiro Hamada.

He’s already waiting for you at the counter with an apron on and a toothy smile that immediately drops when he sees you. “About time you got here,” he grumbles, passing the apron to you. “It’s been a nightmare.”

“Aw, did Cass drag the gremlin out of his cave?” You say in mock pity with pursed lips, dropping your voice to a whisper. “It’s you. You’re the gremlin I’m talking about.”

“Wow, that’s a salary deduction. Maybe twenty percent.”

You hold your hand over your heart in mock offence, having stashed your bag under the counter. “Not twenty percent!” You drop to your knees, the devastating news crushing your soul as he stares down at you with a smug smile.

The both of you hold this charade for a few more seconds before a twitch of his lips makes you both dissolve into laughter. You get back up from the floor, leaning against the counter. Luckily, there aren’t many customers around that you have to attend to. The only people are the regulars, like Miss Darcy from down the road and Tom from the bookstore. They both merely chuckle, used to this behaviour by now.

Rifling through your bag, the smile drops from your face when you realise the shirt you’d brought along to change into is suspiciously absent. Textbooks? Check. Pencil case? Check. Snacks in case you get hungry? Check. 

Everything is there but your shirt. Clearing your throat, you glance up at Hiro who’s making a drink for himself. “So…” You start, noting the stiffening of his shoulders. 

“What do you want?” He asks warily. Sometimes your requests ranged from borrowing a pen to dismantling his precious megabot. The latter was done under his strict supervision, of course. 

“I kinda, forgot to, maybe, bring my shirt…?”

He turns around with his mug in hand, scanning you up and down to figure out if you’re lying. Judging from your sheepish grin, you’re not. “Follow me.” He sighs. The both of you head to his room after placing a sign at the counter saying you’d be back in five minutes. 

Something’s different, you realise, upon entering. Hiro’s side is well-lit, having finally drawn the curtains and allowing the natural sunlight to enter and illuminate the room in a warm glow. His desk is mysteriously tidied up, all his blueprints arranged in a corner next to his notebooks. You watch him go through his drawers, taking a sip from the drink you’d bugged him to let you try until he relented.

Huh. It’s fizzy yuzu tea. You’re unsurprised by this odd combination, quickly figuring out how he managed to make it. It’s nice. Taking a few more sips, you notice the absence of his brother. He must be at SFIT again, probably working on Baymax.

“Here.” You’re interrupted from your thoughts, taking the shirt Hiro hands to you. “Bathroom’s down the hall.” You hand him back his drink which he happily takes, sipping away at the same place your lips touched. 

Oh. That’s an indirect kiss. 

You shake your head, dismissing those silly thoughts before heading to the bathroom and quickly changing into his shirt. 

Indirect kiss? So what?

His shirt is more comfortable than you thought. You recognise the logo on the front belonging to a famous YouTube channel. The shirt itself is a faded red, resting loosely on your shoulders. 

Exiting the bathroom, you fold your shirt up and tuck it securely under your arm before approaching Hiro. He tilts his head upon seeing you, nodding approvingly. “I was worried it wouldn’t fit.”

You arch a brow. “Really? It fits like a charm. It’s a little loose on the shoulders though, you pig.” The effect of your words turn out the way you intend them to, grinning widely as he scoffs. 

“Return it then.”

“Sorry, can’t hear you! Busy working!” You call out, slowly making your way down the stairs. However, a thought occurs to you and you pause, poking your head back into sight before he heads back to his room. “On a totally unrelated note, do you know where Cass is?”

“What do I get in return for being your informant?” He crosses his arms. Your shoulders slump, glaring at him.

“Very funny Hamada. Cute move. Where’s Cass?”

He only smirks in response. “Bold of you to assume I’m joking.” 

“I’ll just call her.”

“Wait!” You’re interrupted from unlocking your phone, Hiro running a hand through his hair in defeat. “She’s at the grocery store. I think she’s coming back soon.” A victorious chuckle slips from your lips, pocketing your phone. 

“Thanks Hamada, ‘preciate it.”

The shift in the cafe is as usual, though you keep an eye out for Cass. Once she returns, she invites you to dinner once more, citing a new recipe she wanted to try. You agreed eagerly, planning to ask her about your request for some adjusted shifts afterwards.

Once the cafe has been wiped down, dishes cleaned, and the ‘Open’ sign flipped to close, it’s time for dinner. You’re making your way up the stairs when you hear the door open and shut behind you, turning around to see Tadashi putting aside his umbrella and taking off his shoes. 

“Oh hey, didn’t know you were having dinner with us tonight.” He says, surprised when he sees you. He hands you another pair of house shoes that you accept graciously, slipping off your sneakers. 

“Yeah, Cass invited me again. You guys should take this out of my pay y’know.” You chuckle warmly, slowly walking up the stairs with him. He laughs along with you, but his eyes widen slightly upon noticing something. He looks at you oddly, tilting his head. 

“Is that Hiro’s shirt?” You look down at it, suddenly feeling self-conscious and tugging on the hem. 

“I forgot to bring mine, and he lent me this one.” You spot the smirk playing on Tadashi’s face, scowling as you punch his arm lightly. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

He rubs his arm with another chuckle, reaching the top of the stairs. “Sure, sure it doesn’t.” You spot Hiro setting the table, Cass busy stirring a pot. The younger Hamada acknowledges your presence with a nod, Tadashi checking on the chicken in the oven. 

You slide into your seat beside Hiro’s. Your seat is now a designated spot at the table, Cass claiming that you’re over for dinner often enough to have your own space. “Hey,” you greet when he sits down, handing him his fork that had somehow made its way onto your plate.

“How’s the article?” The question catches you off guard, surprised that he’d remembered even telling you about it. He spots your incredulous smile, offering a small one of his own. “I’m taking that as bad news.”

“Actually,” you begin, unable to suppress your excitement, “I got Ren to agree to the proposal and he’s gonna turn a blind eye for now. We’re gonna start by asking people to do our survey and compile the information, then get signatures for a petition! Ooo, maybe the art club might wanna do some posters or something.” In your enthusiasm, you fail to notice Cass and Tadashi exchanging looks, quietly beginning to eat while Hiro listens intently.

“That sounds good, how long do you think it’ll take before teachers shut you down?” 

Propping your elbow up, you rest your cheek on your hand with a huff. “As if. They’re too busy sucking up to the principal and Ren’s parents to even care. If not for all those donations his parents made, maybe they’d be serious about teaching us.”

“Tell me,” he points his fork at you, “have you ever considered embezzlement?”

“Aand that’s a conversation for another day.” Tadashi interrupts against his own will, reaching out and roughly messing up Hiro’s hair. The victim looks up with a scoff, stabbing his fork into a piece of chicken on his plate. 

Huh. Jokingly as it was said, you’d never actually considered that before. What if…?

Nah. You shake your head, ignoring the suspicion that sneaks its way into your mind. For now, dinner is the priority. Surprisingly enough, conversations are civil and the atmosphere is light-hearted. 

“Looks like it’s your turn to do the dishes,” Hiro calls out, standing in front of the sofa and allowing himself to fall back with a loud ‘oof’. You casually kick his leg that’s dangling off the armrest, making your way to the kitchen. 

“Thanks, honey,” Cass greets warmly when you approach the basin. She closes the fridge door, a bowl of washed grapes in her hands. “I’m gonna go binge my drama now, so be careful on the way back! I’ll get Hiro to walk you home.” She narrows her eyes as soon as you part your lips to decline, her pointed look enough for you to merely nod in response.

Gotta hand it to Cass, she’s the best boss you’ve ever had. Working at the Lucky Cat cafe is the best blessing the universe has decided to give you, and there’s no way you’re ever going to let them down. Tadashi saunters over, nudging your side.

Pausing your dishwashing to briefly raise your brow, suggesting a silent ‘What’s up’ makes him smile. He nods to Hiro who’s going down the stairs. “Do me a favour and make sure he doesn’t spend too long in the garage. I know you don’t have school tomorrow, kid. Stay over if it gets too late.”

“Sure.” You shrug off the dishwashing duties to Tadashi, following Hiro out the door and into the garage. It’s still as tech-chic as ever, the stunning glow of the vending machine they have overshadowing all the other cool gadgets. 

“I can’t believe you still have to pay for your snacks.” You muse, your sudden presence startling Hiro. he flinches at the sound of your voice, his hand gripping his chest with wide eyes. 

“You have got to stop doing that.” He sits down, turns on the lights above his desk and begins to solder wires. You pull up another spinny chair and roll over to him, peering over his shoulder with intrigue. 

“What’s that?”

Apparently, he quickly forgets people are around because he flinches once more. “Seriously?” He calms down quickly and sets down his soldering gun, pointing an accusatory finger at you. “Get a bell.”

“So spill,” you ignore his disbelieving splutter, prodding at the headband on his desk. “What’s this all about then?”

He sighs, perhaps sensing that you’re not going to leave anytime soon. “It’s the headband you suggested last time. It controls the microbots, but currently…” He lifts the headband and plops it onto his head. You watch it light up, turning your head when you hear something crawling toward you. 

A river of microbots is slowly but surely approaching. You prop your feet up on the chair seat, sitting cross-legged in fascination as Hiro focuses. Once they reach both of you, they move into a large pile before promptly collapsing in on itself and scattering all over the floor. 

“That’s all I got so far.” You look back to see the headband back on the desk, Hiro hunching over and resuming his soldering. “But it won’t take long for me to figure it out. I’m probably like, halfway done?”

You don’t reply. He doesn’t notice your silence, but it feels as if you’re already drowning. You drop your gaze to the floor, eyes fixed on a small stain that’s been there since the first time he’d introduced you to his workspace. 

Moments like these suck. As much as he forgets that you’re there sometimes, you always forget that he’s a child prodigy — someone so smart, so capable of doing anything that you often wonder why he’s still here. Still in San Fransokyo, going to bot fights and working at this cafe.

And then there’s you. A scrappy teenager who’s still in a school that probably has corrupted teachers. A random spokesperson in the journalism club, just someone who started writing as an escape mechanism and ended up liking it so much she wanted to be a journalist. 

You’re nobody compared to him. 

Hiro must’ve sensed something off. You’re snapped back into reality when he coughs awkwardly, having swivelled around in his seat and is now looking at you with a hint of concern in his eyes. 

Realising you’d been staring blankly at the floor for probably a while now, you force a smile back onto your face. “Is there, like, a spider on my face? Or are you just mesmerised by my charm?” 

The concern in his eyes is instantly replaced by disgust, reaching out a hand to shove you away. A genuine giggle from you does make him crack a smile though. “There’s a spider on your face.” 

“Don’t even joke about that.” You punch his arm lightly, feeling at ease from his reaction. “Hey,” you tap his shoulder, noticing a date on his calendar that’s circled in red. “You didn’t tell me Tadashi’s birthday is next week.”

“You never asked.”

“Very funny, Hamada,” you reply grouchily, straightening up in your seat. “Have you gotten his birthday gift yet?”

“I’ll get him the same thing: a massage coupon and a coupon of servitude.” He shrugs, having gotten used to your habit of fiddling with the contraptions on his desk when you’re thinking. You roll a screw between your fingers, shooting him a sceptical glance. “Hey, he loves it!” He states defensively.

“I haven’t gotten him anything,” you grumble, setting down the screw and taking a random wire he hands you. “Wait, are you free this weekend?”

“I think so- wait, why are you asking?” He looks down at you with a raised brow, already suspicious. You scoff, crossing your arms and discarding the wire back onto his table which he nonchalantly sweeps into the small trash bin right next to you.

You cross your hands, before remembering that you’re about to ask him a favour. “Could you come with me to the mall so I can buy a present for Tadashi?”

“He’ll love anything you get him.” Hiro leans back in his seat, stating an obvious fact. You roll your eyes. 

“I know that, genius. That’s why I wanna get him an actual good gift. God knows he hasn’t had one from you in years.” The offended look on his face makes your eyes widen, clearing your throat. “I mean, not that massage coupons and servitude aren’t good gifts, but I was thinking of something else. Besides, he kinda…saved my life. I would’ve been homeless without his offer. I owe him.” Your voice goes a little quieter, almost as if admitting to yourself that truly, you wouldn’t be here without his help.

“Fine,” You look up to see Hiro place his soldering gun down and turn to face you properly. “I’ll go with you this weekend if,” He holds up his phone, the screen filled with a picture of a new movie that’s just come out. “We watch Iron Man.”

“Looks like you got yourself a deal.”

— — — — —

@urfavarab @dee-zbignuts @frogindisguise @mangodamochiii @stars4won @whoisgami @nayleannn @millerworld @bodieohbo @1intrusivethoughts1 @randobeetlehouse @riritvt @louvredea

[dreadsuitsamus]

Chicago Part 2 | Renji Abarai x Reader |

part one

author's note: after a long time trying to continue this, i've decided it's best if i just do a part 3 instead to cap this off, rather than try to push it all into one section. like in part one, this is heavily based on music by the band highly suspect, which i will always recommend you check out! the songs chicago, vanity, and wolf (which happen to be my top 3 highly suspect songs haha) are the ones mentioned in this fic and i recommend giving them a listen just to get a bit more understanding for the things mentioned in this fic.

pairing: renji abarai x fem!reader

warnings: smoking, mentions of drug use and overdoses, rockstar!renji au, angst

The stage lights are hot against his skin, and Renji's already torn off his shirt and tossed it to the fans screaming in the crowd some time ago. It's been a long string of shows in this tour and he's been out of it most of the time, not that you'd be able to tell through his performances. He's as good as ever, still passionate and still following his soul with every word he sings. It's all he's ever known.

It's an outdoor venue tonight, and it's scorching hot as the show nears its close. Sweat drips off of him and his long, vivacious scarlet locks of hair cling to his back and torso, the cameras on him catching every little detail as he approaches the mic stand again and the lights dim as the last song slows. He's outright refused to perform Chicago the entire rest of the tour, much to the band manager's and fans alike chagrin. Ever since that afternoon he last saw you, where he begged you and you still walked away from him, he can't possibly get through the song without wanting to scream and cry and curse the day he met you.

All the other songs he wrote about you are still fair game, though.

"And I have searched my soul, yeah, for you, it's true." His lips practically kiss the mic and his long, dark lashes brush against his skin as he closes his eyes to hide from the cameras and lights alike. "But nothing ever comes out right. And I swear, I'm headed back to the other side, yeah."

Vanity, he thinks. At least I was honest.

"I can't sit around and watch us both die." His voice rings out, so vulnerable and broken and no matter how many times he sings this song or thinks about you and the good times that are years in the past, he can't help feeling choked up. "Oh no—"

"I cannot watch us both die." Renji says to you as he stares out of the window, rain falling gently as a tear slips down his cheek.

You must hate him by now, if for nothing else than surely for using a line from his breakup speech to you in a song that has been heard by millions.

"Oh no, not I. You know I've gotta try." The following cry is directly from his soul, so beautiful and powerful and he's never screamed so gorgeously in his entire career. Goosebumps litter his tattooed body and the little hairs on his neck stand on end at the feeling— the whole reason for the cameras in the first place is that they're making an edit of the tour, and there's no doubt in his mind that this performance will get a complete video of its own uploaded. It's an older song from album's past that newer listeners likely wouldn't know; what a way to introduce them to his most painful memories.

"I need you here." A damned tear slips past him, and he just knows his face is plastered on the big screens of the venue— even without them, the people in the lawn seats could figure out he's a wounded man. The agony in his voice is more than enough; the lyrics and tears just hammer the point home for those that need to be told explicitly that he's a sad, lonely, broken man.

Crying for the public is starting to become his thing, and he hates what it's doing to his image. But this is the last song of the last show of the tour, and after this… He doesn't get to sing about you for a while. The other band members want a break and it's more than reasonable, he knows. They have families, husbands and wives and happy relationships that deserve tending. He's bitter, but not outwardly enough to try and deny them their love.

He can always go solo for a while, if he really wants to torture himself.

"I've tried and I'll try again. You are my friend. This is not the end."

Maybe he'll go break his own heart again instead. By the time the rest of the band is ready to reconvene, he may just have their next album written. It's been a whirlwind in the months following Chicago, and if there's one thing he's been able to learn during his career, it's that his fans love his pain just as much as they love how he parties. They'll listen to almost anything he wants to talk about— Fucking, fighting, crying, it's all the same to them. His self-destructive misery makes them feel better about their own lives, after all. It's as addicting as cocaine to hear a man spill out his life's woes alongside an insane guitar solo.

He thinks maybe he should keep some of the songs he writes for other people, just to fuck with his fans a bit. Imagine if he didn't sell that one song to Ariana Grande? The reactions would be priceless.

You'd be able to call him out easily though. You're one of the very few people in this world that really sees through the bullshit and knows his passion for what it is.

But why couldn't you accept it? Accept him?

"I can't keep doing this, Renji! Sex, drugs, rock 'n roll— that's your thing! Not mine."

"Well tell me you liked the sex, at least."

Mm, actually he understands entirely why you couldn't.

The crowd cheers and screams and snaps their blurry little photos no one will look at as the music finishes out, and without sparing anyone a glance or thanking everybody for a wonderfully successful tour, Renji's lighting a smoke and walking off stage. It's a dick move but he'll get away with it, as is immediately proven by how they don't stop cheering as he walks out of their view.

The music video finishes off with a shot of Renji walking away, his toned back hidden by the curtain of his fiery red hair. It's gotten so much longer since the first time you saw him. He's always been a gorgeous man, truly. If you could love him on looks alone, you'd still be together now.

With an hour left before the diner closes, you've got a single customer in the entire place and you certainly hope to God he'll tip you well as you approach him with a plastered-on smile to pour him his odd request of a fresh cup of coffee at this late hour. Making ends meet has been rough, and your poor momma works just as hard as you do— you don't know what you'd give if it meant she could finally relax and put her feet up, knowing she'll be taken care of and that you'll be okay too.

Your last guest is handsome at least, with flaming hair that sits around his shoulders and with facial tattoos that surprisingly aren't ugly! You didn't think it could be done, but this random man in the diner has proven you wrong. His hairline puts anime's most prideful loser to shame, but he's still incredibly cute. He's got a napkin out and writes in complete chicken scratch, and his lips move softly as he notates what's on his mind.

"'Hey momma, it's me, your oldest son.'" He murmurs to himself, and oh good lord he's in a band, isn't he? With mommy issues on top of that??

"Your food will be out shortly." You tell him softly, not trying to break his flow. And his eyes never leave the napkin as he keeps writing, but just as you walk away he speaks.

"How late is this place open?"

You glance over your shoulder at him. "Just until midnight."

He nods to himself, scribbling down another lyric. "More than enough time. Thank you."

"Of course, sir."

"Renji."

"He did tip well, at least." You mutter and close out the video as you push away the memory; that night changed your life for several years. How dumb you were in those days! Skipped town with a man you only just met, and a budding rockstar of all people. Your poor mother was worried sick until he returned you home several weeks later, but in the end it had to have been worth it for her— Renji bought her a beautiful house at the very first opportunity he had.

The very house you're currently all alone and watching your former fiancé's music videos in.

In your recommended section is a video you must've seen a thousand times by now. It's an interview Renji had absolutely no business doing for several reasons— he was too famous for the interviewer, namely, not to mention he wasn't sober at all. They always catch him when he's under the influence, don't they? It's their best chance to squeeze out the juicy details of his broken life, their best chance to get real stories behind the pretty words he sings, and anger flickers deep in your soul at how abused he is by others. It's bad enough what he does to himself, but the way his pain is seen as a commodity for likes, views and clicks ignites a rage unlike anything else you've ever felt.

"Your new single, Wolf, what's it about?"

Renji takes a drag from his cigarette, flicking the ashy remains onto the floor. It's a dick move and he's not too fucked up to not realize it, but it's this fucking guy's own fault for inviting him. "Think it's pretty clear."

"Well from what I've interpreted, it's about heartbreak."

"It's about my fucking life being ruined, if you wanna get more specific."

"It's by your own hand though, correct? You've got quite the history of self-destruction, arrests, your drug and alcohol addictions…"

Renji groans to himself. "Can't a guy fuck up in peace? Yeah, sure. I did it to myself, 'cause fuck being happy. You think that's how I like to live?" He flicks away more ashes from the cigarette, not even bothering to take a pull from it now and far more interested in fucking up the flooring.

"Can I be honest with you?"

Renji snorts. "Sure. Nobody else is, so why not?"

"I do think that's how you like to live, Renji."

It's quiet for just a moment, but the redhead recovers with a small laugh. "Guess I deserve that."

"In 'Wolf', there's a lyric that stood out to me. "I was born to rock and now I gotta roll." This is after you say you've given someone your heart and soul— most people don't abandon such a commitment."

Renji's jaw ticks. Why the hell did he come on this show again? To be called out and humiliated on camera?? "I didn't do it for fun, or because I wanted to— I didn't have a choice. It was either stay with her and be happy and lose my goddamn self, or follow the music because I don't know who I am without it and lose her in the process."

"Why not find it? You could be a husband, a father… And still be a musician too."

"But will assholes like you still listen if I sing about tucking my kid in instead of screaming about my mommy issues? Hm? None of you fuckers want me or any other “celebrity” to be happy, ‘cause you don't get your money from that shit. What's gonna get you more views, huh? A picture of me getting married or my latest fuckin’ mugshot?"

For the first time, the interviewer is speechless and Renji flicks the remnants of his smoke at the man before walking off the set, swearing up a storm and kicking things over on his way out.

You sigh and look at the old, faded photo pinned to the corkboard on the wall. Even with the age of the polaroid, Renji's crimson hair still burns bright, just like his smile. His big, stupid mouth is curled into the prettiest smile you've ever seen, with teeth blindingly white despite his smoking habit. Still, you fondly drag your finger down the photo, smiling so gently that your eyes only crinkle softly. The day this photo was taken was amazing, and no matter the tension or the burned bridge between you now, the memory of that day and the good times you had all the time during that era raises your spirits as needed.

The ticking of the clock on the wall reminds you of yourself— it's time you get ready for work at the diner. You never thought you'd be working until midnight at a shitty diner again after you left Chicago all those years ago, but time is nothing but a flat circle, it seems. With a sigh, you pull on your uniform and tie the laces of your matching pink sneakers.

But you don't make it past the front door's threshold before your phone's ringing from a number you haven't communicated with in quite some time.

"Ichigo?" You haven't been too particularly close with him in several years— he was always Renji's friend and rival, though you did have a mean streak on Snapchat still going several years after starting it. "If this is about our streak, I'll send it when I get to work."

"It's not." His voice is somber, and the sound of his sends your skin in a carefully crawling panic. "I just thought you should know about Renji."

"... What about Renji?"

"He's in the hospital."

He hates needles.

"Is he acting up?" If he's acting a fool, he's fine and there's no real need to worry.

But then Ichigo wouldn't be calling, would he?

"He overdosed last night during a party." Ichigo murmurs quietly. “I know it's asking a lot, but… Can I fly you to California?"

Ichigo counts the seconds of silence as you contemplate the idea. He's right, it is asking a lot. Your past with Renji is muddied and his obvious remaining love for you isn't enough to erase that terrible history, even with your own heart constantly pouring out love for the man at every single glimpse of him. He was born to rock and he had to roll; isn't that what he sang?

‘And I’m, I'm burying my pain into somebody else.’ He sang that, too.

"What purpose do you think that'll serve?" Your murmur isn't cold nor laced with any sort of venom or loathing; you're already just a soft breeze away from caving in and calling the diner (again) to tell them you're skipping town for a while— for Renji. It's ultimately Ichigo that'll make the decision that determines if your mother returns from her bridge session to an empty house and a Post-It note with too few details on it.

History repeats itself in the oddest of ways, in the most unexpected of times.

"Renji needs someone." Ichigo's pleading is pitiful and awfully unlike him; desperation doesn't suit him one bit. "A lot of things have changed that you don't know about… I can't look after him anymore."

"Look after him?" A sly, mischievous little smile tilts your lips at how you recall the old days with the old group, where Renji and Ichigo went head-to-head on the dumbest arguments, stupid ideas and drinking contests just about every day and night. "You remember yourself in a much better light than I do."

Despite himself, your old friend laughs on the other end. "I'm a father now, with responsibilities! That old way of life is behind me."

You laugh with him and step back into the house, jogging upstairs to your bedroom once again. "Give me my flight details as soon as you can."

"Thank you."

That old Polaroid on the wall brings a spark to your heart this time, rather than the feeling of emptiness and nostalgia it usually does.

"Baby, I met you in downtown Chicago." You sing under your breath, just as your phone lights up with the information that sets a fire up under your ass to pack quickly— that jerk chose a flight that departs in three hours!

[saltygilmores]

THOUGHTS WHILE WATCHING GILMORE GIRLS: S3/EP6: TAKE THE DEVILED EGGS (PT 3) (STILL SO MUCH HAPPENING HERE)

Can I have a donut too? *yoink* Thank you. So much going on with this outfit. Wardrobe Dept : Layers, people! I WANT TO SEE MORE LAYERS! AND I WANT THAT VEST TO BE PUFFY! And make sure his shirt has a skull on it too cause the chicks dig that. Milo:

Jess informs Luke he has to run "errands" before school and the thought of this small infant kitten making a run to the post office to buy stamps and dropping by the laundromat before homeroom is just a delightful image. Of course we know where he's actually going. To toil in the Walmart Mines. But first, coffee and a donut and some petty theft.

This is such a great line. Perfect sassy delivery. Perfect comedic timing. Totally under rated quip that rarely ends up in anyone's little edits and I don't know why. So under rated that I forgot about it. Luke and Jess are the best.

He can steal a little bit. As a treat.

There goes my teenage nephew. Off to his Gigolo Job. Sexually servicing the horny lonely women (men?) of The Hollow. I'd really love to know who Luke thought Jess had as his clientele in Stars Hollow. Miss Patty?

*shudder* Luke goes to Gypsy's auto shop to confirm that Jess' car purchase was legit. She can't confirm the source of his cash flow. Not satisfied with the answer, Luke goes home to nose around some more and commit some serious violation of Jess' privacy by rifling through his underwear drawer, where he finds a mysterious box. I'm not clear what he's looking for. Money? Is he looking for the $10 Jess took out of the register? Kiss it goodbye Luke, it's gone. Probably already spent on a copy of Maxim and some Jergens. (Rebecca Romjin Stamos was on the cover of Maxim in November 2002, by the way. What other Gilmore Girls Watcher Person is going to look this stuff up except Ol' Salty?). Depending on whose dresser drawer this is, either Jess or Luke wear gray and white striped panties. My money is on Jess, striped boxer briefs are too sassy for Luke.

Seen: Striped panties, Box O' Weed. A few moments earlier Luke had spoken to a waiter/undercover cop in the diner (a waiter I have never seen before nor ever again who looked incredibly out of place) asking him to narc on Jess' whereabouts. Luke then proceeds upstairs to rifle through Jess' shit without his consent, as one tends to do on Gilmore Girls. During this rifling, Luke takes a phone call from an unknown person. I don't yet understand the context of this odd phone call. It goes like this: Hey Randy. What's up. Someone's gotta take care of it. It's not gonna take care of itself. I understand. I get it. What else? Huh? Who the hell is Randy? The other time someone said "I have to take care of something" the Stars Hollow PD had to dredge a dead body from the lake. Shady shit.

At one point in his little privacy violation mission Luke opens up an oddly shaped reddish box that almost looks like a heart shaped Valentine's Day chocolate box (the lighting is very dim here). Maybe the kind of box you'd stash your weed in after you finished the candy. (it was empty. Jess must have smoked all the weed already). Next, in anticipation of Creepy Sherry's baby shower, Lane and Rory have a walk-and-talk about the disgustingness of sex and childbirth. Rory calls the "Getting there" part of child birth a "big cosmic joke." So...is the "Getting there" sex? Poor Dean and Jess. The bluest balls in all the land. Rory stringing Dean along for two years without putting out may be the only sympathy I reserve for him. That's rough. Lane: My mom has never told me where babies come from. When my cousin got pregnant she said an angel brushed its wings against her. Rory: I could fill you in on the details. Lane: No thank you. I already learned it on the streets. That was funny. Lane is great.

Welllp. I take that back. Jess and Lane could have been really great friends. Good thing she comes around eventually. In like...the last episode before Jess and Rory break up and he disappears forever she calls them a cute agoraphobic couple. A little too late there my friend. One day you might need a place to crash in NYC with your band and you'll wish you had his number. Let this be a lesson to you fine people. Never get into an unavoidable minor car accident while in Stars Hollow. Never drive in Stars Hollow. Never visit Stars Hollow. Pretend the entire state of Connecticut doesn't exist. You'll be happier, healthier and wiser.

Here we go again. Rory's friends and family trying to fight battles for Rory that she really, really doesn't want fought.

Incoming! My little puffy vested kitten. I'm going down a "what did teenage boys wear in the early 2000s" rabbit hole now. I'll bring you back a souvenir. I graduated high school in 2002. I just have no memory of the fashion at the time. Boys did not give me the time of day. It was for the best, honestly.

Hey, look who it is! Mr. Rygalski/Brody/Cohen, you likely don't have complete control over your own wardrobe for television, but this outfit is a crime. Speak up, man. Don't get me started on Timberlake, either. My search results are skewing Puffy vests over dress shirts instead of puffy vests over tshirts. I want to leave the early 2000's now.

Put that finger down, woman.

:(

Ladies and gentlemen, we have Upside Down Watch. After the lively recent Tumblr debate about UDW being some kind of tribute to military service members wearing their watches upside down, I asked my friend in the army if this was a thing she was aware of and she stated she had never seen any one wear their watch upside down. Admittedly a very small sample size. But it deepens the mystery.

Please watch this scene and listen to how he lisps "Andy Griffith" in this sentence, it's really adorable, and cawr always delights as well.

Cawr cawr cawr!

Lane proceeds to pontificate on the shoddy quality of his Cawr. Okay, Miss Judgy No Cawr or License. After you obtain a car, license and registration through dubious means like Jess did , then you can have an opinion on what he’s driving.

Maybe if you tried to befriend him, he'd be wiling to let you bum a ride with him to band practice. That is a quandry you're currently trying to solve, is it not? Use your noodle. There's a white tshirt peeking out. So he's wearing...*counts* four layers. Vest, beige shirt, black shirt, white shirt. Underactive Thyroid Betty over here.

The best part of everyone being salty to Jess is that he doesn't give one single flying cupcake if someone doesn't like him. Plus he has a braw in his back seat. Probably several braws. Goodnight.

[bisexual-horror-fan]

"Tilt Shift." Jason Carvey X FEM! AFAB! Reader.

Alright Bloodfest week two is in the bag! And who do we have but our limited screen time shitty film bro Ghostface Jason Carvey! I dunno why, but I really like him, he’s entering into the rotation. Buckle up guys, this is a pure hate fucking piece. Let’s go. 

—

Rating. Explicit. Length. 4K. Jason Carvey X FEM! AFAB! Reader. She/Her Pronouns. Warnings: Jason Sucks. You Kinda Suck. Enemies To Fuck Buddies. Arguing. You And He Hate Each Other. Raw Sex. Vaginal Sex. Eating Out. Man Handling. Some Dominance. 

—

You don’t think there is a single human being on Earth you get along with less with than one Jason-Who-Gives-A-Fucking-Shit-What-His-Middle-Name-Is-Carvey. He fucking sucks. He always wants to play devil's advocate, he always seemed to think your opinions were less than and had always had some smart comment to make to whatever you attempted to add to class discussion, he was a typical, shitty, film bro asshole. You avoided him whenever possible. You reluctantly had to see him multiple times a week in film class, and bumped into him around campus far more often than you’d like.

Getting paired up by random number lottery to do a duo project was the worst possible thing that could happen, there is no one that you would have liked less than him to be partnered with. A heavy sigh and your head dropped to your desk, he immediately launched into complaints and the class laughed, yeah it was real fucking funny how you were going to be tied to him for the end of semester project. 

This is your nightmare, you mused, this is Hell. 

The idea was that you are supposed to take a movie trailer and edit it, so it looks like it fits into a different genre, a great project you would have normally jumped at were you put with anyone else. The first three days were spent arguing over which trailer from the list to go with, you took so long that all the other options were snapped up, and you were left with the last one, forced to take it, and Jason didn’t take any blame for the fact the slim pickings you were saddled with were his fault. He said, “We gotta make it look like a horror film-”

And you were so tired of his crap already that you conceded. 

“Fine, whatever you fucking want, Jason.” You sighed, and he asked, clearly not buying that you would give in first, “Wait, really?”

“Really, let’s make it look like the dumbest, cheesiest, shlockiest 80s gore fest we can.” Even with your flat and less than impressed tone, you thought he would be all about it, but in typical Jason fashion he took offence. He started to say that you could make it look much better than that, and you wanted the ground to open up and swallow you whole. 

The guy was always so busy, you had limited time to do this and as much as you didn’t want to work with him, you had to get this done, intent on getting a good grade. Turning in late would cut into your mark's considerably. After a pile of texts and no less than five voicemails, you finally get a curt, “I booked the editing room at 10 PM, see you there.” 

You had plans, but you needed to get this project done, so you cancelled the evening's activities reluctantly and made your way over. You had already gotten ready to go out tonight when he messaged, gave you less than two hours notice. You’d had just enough time to finish your food since you were out at dinner and make it back, run in and get your shit before you had to depart for your meeting with your less than stellar partner. You make it there five minutes before ten pm, you find the room empty, of course he got the last slot, no one wants to be editing this late on a fucking Friday night. Everyone else with good sense had gotten everything else done before now. 

You slump down in a chair, drop your bag and take out your flash drive with the work you’d put in thus far, you plug it into the computer and cue it up.

And then you ended up waiting for half an hour for Jason to stroll in, far too casually considering how late he was. He took the chair next to you in front of the computer, setting down a bag of fast food, a soda before he shrugged his bag off his one shoulder and set it on the ground in front of the desk. He hadn’t said hello, he hadn’t even looked at you, arms crossed as you observed him in pure disbelief. 

He was getting his stuff set up, taking his video camera out of his bag, getting the cord to attach it to the computer you’d claimed, a notebook, a pencil, he was eating a few fries in between. Fuck, he is the actual worst, while he is still setting up you cut in and say finally, “Hello?”

He stops, a look over to you, expression showing he was totally fucking confused why you were greeting him in this way, or greeting him at all, he says, “Hey?” 

You laugh, eyes rolling as you lean back in your chair, “Are you fucking serious?”

“What? What did I do now? I just got here!” He sighed, turning back to his bag, and you tell him, “That is exactly the problem, Jason! You tell me, not ask, TELL me to show up here, no regard for my Friday night plans, and I don’t fight you on it! I show up, early, and you stroll in a half hour late with fucking McDonald's and not so much as an apology for being late! You are unbelievable.” 

He shakes his head as he sighs, “Jesus, you are sensitive-” 

“Jason!” You bite out, upset at the very idea you are sensitive for being upset at this, and he scoffs, “Fine, fucking sorry for being a little late-” He said it mockingly, it could turn your stomach. You wanted to fight him further, the idea that he was “a little late” was pissing you off, him acting as if he was just a touch behind schedule, but you didn’t want to be here all night. 

“Whatever, can we get started?” You asked, and he said, “Yeah, so long as you are done being a bitc-”

“Do not finish that sentence, Carvey.” 

He looked over at you and upon seeing how serious your expression combined with your downright venomous tone, he bit his tongue with a muttering of the word, “Fine.”

Thank the Lord, he was dropping it. Maybe now you can get some actual work done-

“Why are you wearing that?” He was staring at you, brow creased in question. You looked down at yourself, heeled boots, short skirt, low cut top and made up, you’d planned to go to a party with friends and due to his fucking shitty timing you didn’t have the chance to change. 

Your eyes draw back up and meet his as you inform him, “I was planning to go out tonight until someone texted me to come do the work I’ve been begging to do for weeks, and I figured I better jump at the chance cuz who knows when I’ll get it again.” 

He smiled, that stupid self-satisfied smile, he had his soda in one hand and a few fries in the other as he tells you, “Yeah, sorry about that, I’m a very in demand kinda guy.” 

“Yeah, I am so sure.” You sigh, and you lean forward, “Okay so here is what I have so far-” You click the space bar and let what you had gotten done solo play out. 

He, of course, hated it. 

Endless criticism with no real praise to be found, he was going on and on, spewing his usual bullshit, “This is a joke! Total amateur hour! Did you even follow the story board we drew up?”

“Yes, I fucking did! Look-” You hold up your sketchbook and go through the shot he was current critiquing and pointing out, “See?! These are all your stupid angles and notes, I fucking did it-”

“No way, if I handled it, it’d look much better-” You groan, a hand combing through your hair, dropping your sketchbook into your lap with your other hand, “You are impossible to work with Jason!”

“I’m not asking for much here! It isn’t difficult.” He insists, gesturing with his half empty soda, and you say with raised brows, “Taking a beloved rom com trailer and editing it to look like a horror film isn’t hard?”

He groans, and you swear he might just stamp his foot in indignation, “No! You just gotta do it with care! See the love interest is supposed to be the monster, the villain, he is a ravenous beast seeking to corrupt her, and you are not conveying that right!”

You don’t know why you ever agreed to this. You should have fought him harder on the genre.

“If it is so bad, why don’t you show me what you have so far?” You ask, and he says, “Gladly.” 

He pulls up what he has so far, and it isn’t much of anything, it’s a few disjointed shots, some cobbled together audio and music, and you say, “You’ve hardly done anything, and you are criticizing me?!”

“My vision is clearer than yours is thus far-” He defends, and you cut in, “What vision? I can barely see anything!”

He takes a deep breath to calm himself and instead of pushing further he offers,“It’ll take me like thirty minutes to get it together, just give me what you have so far, and I’ll fix it.” 

Your mouth gapes, jaw drops, “You want me to just let you do all of it? Trust you to do this solo? Fat fucking chance!” 

“We are gonna be here all night then.” He says firmly, and you sigh out, “Fucking fine, I guess so.” 

You both set to work in relative silence, you agreed to do the front end and him to finish it up, you and he steal glances at the others screens and more comments and barbs fly. You and he have this terrible habit of riling each other up, he just annoys you so much, it’s so hard to play nice and take the high road when he is like this.

“Really? You are using that as your transition-” You start, and he bites, “And what would you do? A fucking flash to black between shots bracketed by a sting of violin music?” 

You make a sound of pure disgust, “You think so fucking highly of me.” 

He spins in his wheelie office style chair and turns to look at you, he tells you, “Sweetheart, I don’t think of you in any way.” 

You spin in your chair to face him better, arms crossing over your chest, “Thank God for that, otherwise I might vomit, I’d hate to ruin the carpet in here.” 

Next you are up out of your chair, and you stretch your arms above your head, your eyes are closed, head back, so you miss the small detail of Jason’s eyebrows raising as the hem of your shirt does, enjoying the bit of skin you revealed with the action. Your arms come down and so does your gaze, his expression schools back into something more akin to hatred, and you say, “I’m going to the bathroom and gonna hit the vending machine.” 

“Yeah whatever.” He shrugs and turns away, you make your move to walk out and tell him, “Be right back.”

He was less than subtle this time around when checking you out, blatantly staring at your ass through the glass window of the editing bay, you weren’t going to call him on it. Walking down the hallway it made you laugh with a shake of your head, you were musing, “Mmmhm, he totally neverrr thinks about me.” 

You are still thinking about it while you are washing your hands, “Is this why Jason is such an asshole to me? Because he actually wants me? Shit, be more fucking cliche’.”

After leaving the bathroom and finding yourself in front of the vending machine, considering your options, maybe you were imagining things, maybe he wasn’t looking at you like that.

You put the money in and make your selection and watch the metal spiral spin and twist till the small bag of chips and the candy bar you selected fell. You fished them out and slid to the next one, keying in to get a can of something cold. Even if he was looking at you like that, who says you should do anything about it, maybe you could let ol’ Carvey suffer and stew. 

Once you were back in the room you open the can, you stride to your chair and sit yourself down, you are mid-sip and putting the food on the desk with your other hand. The way you sat made your skirt rise up a tad, your legs cross, the can comes down and your opposite and free hand smoothed the material down over the curve of your thigh and that is when you notice it, he’s looking again. 

Oh, he did want you. This was no wandering of a wild imagination, Jason actually was “taking in the sights”. You wanted to laugh until you realized something crucial. You’d swapped seats, you took the empty one without thinking, but this was his old chair, the crumpled McDonald's bag is what made it click. He was seated in yours now, meaning that he was editing your shit. You look over to the screen where his attention was fixed once more, and you see him doing some serious damage, you slam the can down and stand up, hand pushing on his shoulder as you exclaim, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!”

He half turns in the chair, the violent jerking of his body from the force of you putting your hands on him, his own hands up and away from the keyboard, he looked shocked you touched him in such a way, so sudden and violent, “What?!”

You point at the screen as you ask much too loudly, “Why are you in my chair and what the fuck are you doing?!”

“I didn’t know if you were actually coming back, thought I should help you out since you so clearly need it.” He spits, and you scoff, “My bag is still here Jason, like I’d leave my shit in the editing bay alone all night with you, it’s bad enough I have to be here.” 

“Again, you could let me handle it and you could go. I want to go a more found footage angle than you do anyway-” You suck your teeth indignantly, “You actually like that found footage shit? And how are you gonna make this look like that? Tilt shift it in after effect and slap some fucking filters on it?” 

He leaned in closer as he spoke to you in a harsh tone, “What did you say before? Accusations of me thinking highly of you? Why don’t you flip that mirror back around to look at yourself.” 

He was still looking at you in that annoying way that told you he was checking you out, and so you say, “No, I don’t think I’ll do that, I think you are looking at me enough for the both of us.” 

The word was almost coughed out, “What?”

And the word of the day is. You stare him down as you say, “I see you fucking staring at me, you son of a bitch. I’m not as stupid as you treat me.” 

“Are you sure about that? Because right now it sounds like you are delusional and convinced I want to fuck you.” He laughs but there is no bite behind it, he is trying and failing to cover himself up, he is struggling to meet your gaze. 

“I don’t think I am that delusional.” You state simply, and he questions, “Oh no?”

“No. In fact, I am sure you want to fuck me so badly that I could ride you right here, and you’d more than let me, I think you’d love it.” 

You decide not to let him get any more chances to argue, you reach down, fingers slip up your skirt, thumbs hook in your underwear, and you drag them down, stepping one leg out you said, “Get your stupid jeans open, right now.” 

His expression is confused, eyes are wide, but his hands scramble, belt open and undone, pants unzipped he is shuffling them down his thighs before sitting back down, now you take in the sights, and he isn’t a bad size, this could work. You certainly aren’t going to give him the satisfaction of complimenting him, he speaks up, half cocky smile, with a hand around the base of his shaft, “You like it?”

You swing one leg over and sit in his lap as you sigh, “It’s passable, I suppose it’ll have to do.” 

He frowns at that, and you grind yourself against him, hands coming to rest on his shoulders. Fingers curl in the material of the college branded shirt he wore, and you rolled your hips, dragging yourself against him, causing the head of his dick to bump over your clit making both you, and he shared a sharp inhale. You already hated this simply because that one simple move felt far better than it should, it pissed you off. You tested it again, you repeated the action, and it was better than the first pass, another proved to increase the feeling and so it goes and that just serves to fuel the fire of both rage and lust inside of you. 

“What the fuck-” You breathe out, head tipping back, hips rolling, and he ruts up into you, providing extra friction and asking, “What? What are you going on about now?” 

“This-” You grind again and let a breathy moan slip out, and he then moves again, matching you move for move, and you grit out, “-it’s too fucking good, it shouldn’t feel this fucking good, and it’s-”

You moan louder, “-it’s pissing me the fuck off.” 

It's honest and raw and vulnerable and, above all else, very fucking true. His hands are on you, one on your hip to help control pace and another on your back, under your shirt, fingers on bare skin as he ruts up into you as he stares up, meets your gaze as he says, “Take it out on me.” 

Now it was your turn to use the word of the day, “What?”

He moves slower this time, more purposeful, it makes you choke back a moan, and he reiterates himself, “Take your anger out on me then.” 

You think that is the first smart thing he has ever said. 

Enough is enough, and you figure that you should take him up on his offer, you raise yourself up, hand comes down behind you, fingers lock onto him and position him just so, you angle your hips, and then you do the most natural thing possible at that moment, you sit down, sliding him deep inside in the process. 

Your hands move, one remains on his shoulder and the other slides into his slightly too long black hair and threads, you pull as you soak in the feeling of him stretching your walls, a deep sigh leaves you, satisfied in some regard simply from being filled. You revel for a moment until he shifts below you, eyes flick down, and he is staring up at you still, brows pinched together as he insists, “Move already.”

You scoff and tug harder on his hair, force his head back as you tell him, “Shut up.” 

“That hurts-” He groused, and you roll your eyes as you start to move, heeled boots on shitty carpet you start to ride him, asking in a breathy but ultimately teasing tone, as if the question was rhetorical, “Better?” 

The shaky moan he let out, while incoherent, told you very much so yes. 

You start to find your rhythm with riding him, enjoying yourself, angling your hips to grind your clit and that sweet spot inside to get what you wanted out of this sooner rather than later. As his eyes slip closed, and he lets you do what you wanted, allows you to take your anger out on him, you have the thought that like this? When he isn’t running his mouth and when he is letting you ride him as if it is the only thing he was ever good for, he’s actually pretty attractive. Even if he could stand for a haircut. 

You wouldn’t tell him that though, again, why give him the satisfaction, especially when you are so concerned about your own pleasure. 

Mean jabs and hurtful words left you now, just laboured breathing and moaning as you rode him, intent on seeing to your own end, and he was doing a lot to ensure it actually, moving with you, rocking up into you, seeing to your satisfaction and enjoyment in a way you’d almost call uncharacteristic of him. After two seconds of thought, though, it’s obvious he was getting just as much out of this. 

The build of it isn’t quick per se, but it’s steady, one of those orgasms that builds in almost a steady arc, not really any valleys, just a consistent climb, up and up, until your pace becomes a bit uneven, thighs shaking, breath stuttering until it culminates and you cum. Your fingers are still in his hair, but there isn’t any serious tension there, no longer holding taut, grinding down onto him, shallow, fast thrusts of him in and out halfway as you ride out your bliss with a quiet and singular, “Yes.” on your tongue. 

You squeeze all you can out of your orgasm before you slow to a stop. Your eyes open, and you huff out a, “Fuck, I needed that.” 

And next? You get up. You stand, slip him out and swing your leg back over, getting off of him and breaking away. 

You are reaching down, going to fix your underwear and slide it back up, and he asks, “Uh, what are you doing?”

Eyes flick to him, a confused look on his face and his dick still out, painfully hard and soaked from you, “Well we still have a project to finish, I was gonna get back to work and then hopefully go back to my dorm to crash.” 

“What about me?” He asked, and you respond with a smile, a slight cock of your head, “What about you Jason?”

Your eyes drop, you are pulling your underwear back up when you feel it. His hand locked on your bicep and then him yanking on you, pulling you over to the desk, and then he pushes you down, hands finds your hips, and he moves you to his liking. One is on the back of your thigh and pushing your leg up, knee finds purchase on hardwood, and he is leaning down, his chest to your back, you feel his hair on the back of your neck, lips brush by your ear, “Yeah you are not gonna leave me with blue balls sorry.” 

He is slipping back inside, and you arch back into him, a shared moan spills forth, “You took your anger out on me, so now I’m going to do the same.” 

Second-best idea he’s had all night. Well you thought that until later on he was going down on you post fuck, making you cum on his tongue until you were almost sobbing, but that is something else entirely. 

You ended up staying in the editing bay all night but by the end of it you had the project done and, reluctantly, a new fuck buddy. At least Jason Carvey turned out to be good for something.