#and school is ending soon so i have finals and this is literally the worst time for me to feel like this

[tboyautism]

hey how the fuck do i get the motivation to keep trying

[periprose]

May i request a Logan x angel!reader fic where the reader had to get medical treatment after a mission because her angel wings (that are apart of her mutation) were burned and partially damaged after battle, and Logan comes in to check up on her?

anon I loved this ask ahhhh thank you. I'm like half considering making this a series if people want it (so send more angel requests if you're into it!) <3 I may have made it more angsty but there is fluff at the end :) also reader goes by Angel in this fic.

When Flight Comes to Fire (or, Logan Gains a Guardian Angel)

Word count: 4.5k

Genre: Best friends to lovers, mutual pining, X-Men stuff, idiots in love, angst, hurt no comfort, fluff, kissing

LGGA Masterlist

The first time your mutation made it’s appearance– sharp shoulder blades growing into thick appendages, soft, buttery white feathers extending from them in that unhuman way, your wingspan making it clear you would never be normal– your mother retched and said she would have done anything to chop them off of you. Would’ve done anything to have a normal kid.

In fact, she tried, multiple times, to do so. You were only twelve when she came at you for the first time, in your sleep, feeling falsely secure in your father’s platitudes about how she would never really do anything. You woke up to her reaching inside your blanket, grasping one of your wings as she brandished a knife in her other hand. Luckily, your wings were strong enough to shove her off, but you remember how you screamed at her.

Why, mom? It’s me! It’s me–

She didn’t listen, coming at you again, promising in delirious anger that everything would be okay soon if you would just let her fix it, and she had to be held back by your father, as he called the police. 

Because you were her kid, she got let off with a warning, and you were stuck. So you would often fly to the tallest treetops and take your rest there, trying your best to ignore your mother’s other attempts on your life. She didn’t seem to ever get it. You would never be normal.

The final attempt was probably the worst, and the one that caused you to fly away in the end to Charles Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters.

You were twenty years old, just old enough to legally leave home– you only stayed because your father insisted. 

She set your favourite tree on fire. You had no idea your mom had been in enough anguish to essentially murder you for daring to be different.

You awoke to the deep smell of smoke, of tree bark charring, and then you heard the cracking and sparks. The tree quickly caught fire, and you shrieked in pure terror as the heat of the flames approached you. The immense light emitting from the fire blinded you, and suddenly there was a sharp pain from your wings and back– you were getting scorched.

So you flew upwards, high enough that the fire dissipated off your back instantly in the cool night sky’s air, and you were fine. Nothing to show other than a little scar, and the sounds of mutiny coming from your mother below. 

You chose to forget her– no point in repairing a relationship with a woman who didn’t want you as you were.

But you’ve never forgotten the pain of being burned alive.

/

“Angel. You ready?” Logan is to your right in the foyer of the mansion. “Everyone else is waiting in the helicarrier.”

He’s your best friend, has been ever since you came to the X-Mansion as a runaway. It’s not an uncommon story among mutants, but Logan always felt you were like him. Rough, not the easiest to speak to, having a tendency to keep to yourself.

The major difference to him is that you’re a lot easier on the eyes. 

Seriously, it was almost like the universe was playing a joke on him. Here was a beautiful girl with literal angel wings, just missing a halo as she arrived at the door for the School for the first time, and he just happened to be the first ugly motherfucker to open the door.

Logan’s never quite sure why you keep up with him, why you stay friends with him, if he was just lucky enough to be the first person you saw and liked. It drives him nuts, the way in which you rely on him, trust him more than he thinks he deserves, you come to him at every moment just to talk over everyone else, when surely you could have anyone else’s attention.

Especially any stupid guy, like him. He’s not sure how you haven’t noticed– even now on the staircase, he can’t tear his gaze away from you. Logan feels bad to be so in love with you, too– he wonders if he’s reading into things too much, if he’s pushing for something that isn’t really there.

And he’ll never know, because you’re so damn flighty. Logan can barely keep up with your whims, and he only knows as much as you’ll tell him about yourself (he hardly knows where you came from that fateful first day), so he just lets you come and go as you please. He’ll keep his feelings deep inside, where you can’t possibly find out about it.

“Yup, I’m fine.” You have a brief smile for him, which gives him that familiar twist of the stomach. “Oh. You’re not wearing your uniform?”

“It’s better to be incognito for this one, according to Scott.” Logan says, adjusting his flannel, mildly enjoying how you check him out. 

You’re wearing the typical X-Men uniform– bright yellow, blue stripes down your sides, room for wings with a removable panel in the back. You let them loose, now, telling Logan you’ll be right back.

When you return, with quite a flourish, flapping wings in a true superhero-landing– Logan sees that you’re wearing a tank-top, and some jeans that really, really highlight your ass– but he tries not to focus on that.

“Hey. Tank’s inside out, Angel.” Logan says, waiting for you to fly off again, but you simply take off the tank top, and pull it back on the right way, exposing your bra-covered chest and lithe waist for the briefest of moments, while Logan loses whatever he was about to say. “I…”

“Don’t be a perv, Logan.” You jokingly side-eye him, never suspecting that that could actually be true as you tease him. “You’ve seen me change tons of times.”

“Yeah, but out in the open?” Logan stares at you. “You’re gonna have a shit-ton of admirers if you keep that up.”

“It’s just me, please.” You start up this whole I’m-not-pretty schtick that Logan is pretty sick of hearing, and he shakes his head. “Let’s go. They’re waiting.”

Yeah, Logan thinks, they are waiting, but he’s not sure you needed to be all quick and nonchalant about changing, just to get there faster.

That’s what he means by you being flighty– who knows what’s really in your heart, when you act so quickly?

/

“Listen up, X-Men. We’re gonna do our best to avoid damages today, right?” Scott speaks with the air of a leader who’s very fed up with his team members. 

There’s a resounding yes from everyone, including you, Logan, Jean, Storm, Bobby, Rogue, Jubilee, and Kitty.

“What’s our mission?” Scott says, and you answer first.

“Find the new mutant.” You state, and Scott nods, while Logan hides a smile at how adept you’ve gotten at these missions.

“Make sure he doesn’t defect to the Brotherhood.” Jean adds, looking at you and Logan, seeing how close you two sit to each other. She’s kept it to herself– but Jean thinks if you and Logan really do have something going on, that would be nice. For the both of you.

“No damages.” Logan chimes in, and Scott visibly loses a little composure.

“I already said that.” Scott points out, and Logan shrugs. 

“Well, it’s part of the plan, isn’t it?” Logan leans back in his seat on the helicarrier, nestling his head next to your shoulder, not noticing the way your eyebrows raise at the sudden contact. “Better than me not listening at all.”

“Sure, Logan. Fine.” Scott lets it go, knowing better than to ask more from the most “chill” (read: laziest) member of the team.

You laugh a little as Logan smiles a cocky grin.

/

The new mutant is kind of old– you’re looking for a 19 year old with severe singing around his clothes, pale skin, and black hair. You suppose he’d be extremely frightened.

Most mutants don’t deal well with becoming different all so suddenly, let alone at the very late age of 19, when you could assume that you’re pretty much normal. So you and Jean are hoping to find him first– you figure you’re the two that could calm him down.

Unfortunately, you find Jubilee talking to him first. She’s okay, but she has a tendency to be a little too bombastic, as Jean says quite often.

“And there she goes.” Jean grimaces as Jubilee taps the new mutant’s shoulder, and you pick up her saying that “she’s just like him,” which you’re not sure is a delicate way to deal with the topic.

There are crowds of people walking through the streets, too, and a lot of them are glancing at this yellow-jacketed girl talking to a boy with burnt clothes.

If you had found him, you would have brought him to the side, away from people, and–

“His face turned white. He’s freaking out.” You tell Jean, and her eyes narrow.

Bobby, Rogue, and Kitty are nowhere in sight, so this is just one weird young adult speaking to another one, and you really, really wish the rest were here. You, Jean, Logan and Scott are a bit older– perhaps comforting in your age– but you feel like the boy would’ve done well with more peers.

Jubilee raises her hand as you and Jean approach her. “Guys, I got it under control. See, Kyle, these are more people like us. More mutants.”

“...” Kyle looks on in disbelief.

“Kyle?” You try, and he looks at you– there’s something in his eyes that tells you he wants to trust you, but he’s scared– it reminds you of yourself. “We’re here for you if you want us to be. Take your time. Don’t worry.”

You smile, Jean smiles, Jubilee grins, and Kyle seems okay.

It lasts for about two seconds.

Someone drops what sounds like a glass bottle in the distance, and the shattering sound is enough for Jubilee to gasp, a little spark of fireworks launching from her fingertips, towards Kyle, who watches on in trepidation, and his body starts shaking, moving of it’s own accord, clearly reacting to being so close to another form of heat– and you and Jean move, as you yell out “Wait!–”

Kyle shrieks in fear as his body becomes overtaken with flames, combusting with such intensity that the flames roar at least 100 feet over, and Jean– Phoenix that she is– is able to withstand the heat, but you find yourself being pushed back by hot gusts of wind.

It hurts, it feels as if your skin is melting with every passing second. You grit your teeth, trying to breathe as Kyle loses control of his body, and you open your wings, deciding that flying off into the cool air would be a better alternative.

That was a mistake on your part.

The moment you open your wings, Kyle’s fire pushes you backwards, and up, into the hot air, and your wings catch fire as you come too close–

You scream, but it’s unheard through the roar of the flames, and you barely have time to catch yourself as you fall towards the ground, smoking, fiery tendrils engulfing you.

The last thing you remember is your mother’s face.

/

Logan sees it happen from a distance.

Scott wanted him to be as close as possible, something about keeping watch on him– and Logan gets it, he’s not always the most responsible, but later on, in hindsight, he wishes he was, because then he wouldn’t have missed what happened to you– and they both turn as a fire overtakes a block of the city.

“Shit, that must be him!” Scott starts running, Logan not far behind.

It’s only when he sees a pair of white wings, a woman flying up, up, up, the fire approaching dangerously close to her– to you– he starts speeding up, overtaking Scott, pushing people out of the way.

Logan wonders what he could do, anyways. He’s invincible, practically, incapable of taking on much damage as his regenerative abilities heal him– perhaps he could run to the kid and knock him out, sustaining burns in the process, but better him than you.

Never you.

Any second now– Logan sees the boy, and he’s got an open fist ready to lightly tap the back of his neck.

He’s not fast enough. Scott yells out, and Logan looks up to see you engulfed in flames, as you scream, and it’s awful to hear– usually you seemed so speedy, so ready to fly at a moment’s notice, that Logan forgot you could be hurt.

He calls out your name. It’s unheard by you as you crash on the ground, still burning– Bobby, Kitty, and Rogue have caught up to you from the other side of the street, and Bobby quickly makes an icy mist that subdues the flames on you, and Kyle’s roaring fire back into him.  

You’re unconscious as the X-Men approach you. 

Logan touches your face as he kneels next to you, the only one willing to come close right now. “Hey, Angel…”

There’s that unspoken fondness between you two, yet again. Everyone knows, even when Logan has tried to act cool about it. Even now, when Logan attempts to act like he isn’t totally hanging on to your potential words, searching for a breath, a little movement of your head. 

Jean, Scott, Jubilee, and the rest look on in trepidation.

You don’t respond, and he feels his heart plummet. You’re covered in burns, mostly across your stomach and back, and he inhales sharply as he turns you over– there’s fresh, scalded skin, crispy-red to the touch.

Your back, your wings– they’re damaged so badly, with feathers singed straight off, the muscular appendages more visible and wounded, and Logan doesn’t know if you’re alive. He almost removes his hands from you, the very thought seeming to scald him from the inside, and he glares at the kid– the one who looks terribly guilty, now, as he runs away.

“Get back here!” Kitty shouts at him, anger in her eyes, and Scott pulls her aside, explaining that it was clearly an accident of sorts– something that Jean confirms for him with a nod of her head.

Right, Jean. Logan knows that if anyone could confirm if you’re alive, it would be her.  

As Scott, Kitty, Bobby, and Jubilee go hunting for the kid– Rogue stays behind because she’s always felt close to you and Logan– Logan looks up at Jean in a solemn, teary-eyed look that has her understanding immediately.

“C’mon, Angel… stay with us.” She mutters, as she presses her fingers to your head, and she smiles comfortingly at Logan.

“She’s still here. Just barely, but still here.” Jean says, and Logan sighs, an angry, long sigh that tells Jean and Rogue that he’s going to be insufferably feeling at-fault here, even though no one is.

“Let’s go.” He picks you up, feeling the burnt skin through that damn tank-top, now barely being held together as tatters– for modesty’s sake, he takes off his flannel and wraps it around you.

Rogue lets Logan and you walk forward a bit, not wanting him to hear what she’s about to say, and then looks towards Jean. “He really loves her, doesn’t he?”

“Yeah.” Jean exhales. “Let’s hope for his sake that she’ll be okay.”

/

Stupid bitch! You’ve been nothing but a curse on this family– fuck you, I hope your future daughter is just as fucked up as you are–

You awake suddenly, with a loud gasp and yell, your mother’s last words to you flashing on your mind– you attempt to pull yourself forward restrained back by tubing in your arm. You’re stuck in a bed. In a hospital bed of sorts.

Not just any hospital bed, one in the hospital wing of the X-Mansion.

You’re calm, at first, until there’s a sudden ache echoing from your back, through your body, through your wings.

“Ah–!” You groan in pain. Trying to move suddenly has hurt you.

There’s a knock at your door. It’s Beast– or, Dr. Hank McCoy, as he’s better known around the hospital wing.

“You’re awake.” Hank says in relief. “It’s been a few days since your accident.”

“It has?” You widen your eyes in shock. “How, w-what… am I okay?”

The last thing you remember is Kyle exploding in flames, causing you to catch fire– then you blacked out, and– you’re having terrible memories of your mother.

“Hank?” You mutter, and he’s quick to come to your side, blue paw-hand holding your own.

“My mother didn’t…”

“No, she’s not here. She’s never come close to you. You’re safe.” Hank states, as Charles has told him to, remembering the few times you’ve had to come to the hospital wing for comfort before. 

So many mutants have troubled backstories, and he doesn’t quite understand why you don���t try to connect with others about it. Hank feels it could really help, but you’ve always changed the subject away from you.

You’re hurt, mentally, in a way that no one can really fix, and Hank is a big believer in letting people progress when they need to– but he’s so glad that you’ve bonded with Logan. 

“Am I going to be okay?” You tap the side of the bed, fears present in your eyes. “Last thing I remember is Kyle going crazy, and I– I got all burnt–”

“Yes, you’re going to be okay. We’ve administered lots of injections, topical ointments, everything that boosts your healing. You might have some scarring after this is all over, but no injuries. You’re very lucky, Angel.” Hank comforts you, and encourages you to lie back.  

“Lucky. Is that what you’d call a girl with a fucked up state of mind?” You murmur, and Hank shakes his head.

“We’re all fucked up.” Hank gets back up, leaving you in your room. “It’s a prerogative to being in the X-Men.”

You smile softly at that. He’s not wrong, but you wish, you really wish you could’ve just been that normal girl that your parents would’ve loved.

You look down at yourself. You’re wearing hospital scrubs, but there’s an unfamiliar fabric underneath the blanket.

Logan’s flannel is splayed across your stomach, a comforting, soft feeling that has you missing him almost instantly. Had he visited you, when you were unconscious, and decided to leave you this as a token, to help you feel at home? 

You lift it up, taking a deep smell of Logan’s signature scent– pinewood, smoke, and something kind of sweet, like… marshmallows? 

It makes you blush, but almost immediately after, you place the flannel back under the blanket. Logan doesn’t need your silly crush, your overt attachment, and you’re smart enough to keep that to yourself.

/

Logan hears from Hank that you’re awake, and although he wonders why Hank told him first, rather than Charles, or Jean, he’s glad to be the first one to see you.

“Hey.” He knocks on your door. To Logan’s surprise, he lets go of a breath he was holding– you don’t look horrific, you have some colour in your face, and there’s a soft smile on your lips when you see him.

You look just like Angel. His best friend. And he comes in real close, ruffling your hair as he often does, maybe more gentle because he doesn’t want to add any more pain.

“Hey, Logan.” You grab his hand, squeezing it with warmth, grateful to see him, before letting go suddenly and looking away bashfully, and he pauses, reminding himself not to think too highly of it.

“Angel. You’re feeling better?” He asks, and you motion for him to sit down on the edge of your bed.

“Yeah. Yeah, I feel okay.” You stare at him. It’s only been a few days, but Logan looks kind of awful– he’s got some serious dark under-eye bags going on, and stubble that is slowly turning into a beard, and there’s an apparent worry on his face that makes you just want to comfort him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Logan tries to ward off your answer with a stern, one word reply, but you’re not having it.

“Really? You don’t look so great.” You say, not without tact. “I hope you weren’t all cooped up in your room, worrying about me.”

Logan makes a sound that’s half way between a sigh, and a laugh at how close you always seem to get to the truth.

“Alright, yeah. Yeah, I was worried to hell about you. Is that what you wanted to hear?” He jokes, but your face falls.

“You don’t have to do that. I’m good now, I don’t…” There’s an air of seriousness coming from you, that Logan doesn’t typically see, something you usually don’t let yourself do. 

“Are you good? Let me see your back, Angel–” Before Logan can even move you to the side, you turn in defiance, letting him see that you are healing. There are still parts of your flesh, red and angry, but for the most part it seems okay, already far better than it was a couple days ago.

Logan breathes a sigh of relief, touching your wings with a tenderness that has you leaning into his touch, and he gently skims over a scar of yours, glad to see that you’re genuinely not as hurt as he thought– but you pull away quite quickly.

“See? You don’t need to care so much, I’m fine.” You sound accidentally very accusatory, but Logan is just as much of a stubborn asshole as you are sometimes, and he narrows his eyes.

“What the fuck does that mean?” He stares at you. “We’re friends, aren’t we? Friends care about each other. Jesus, you’re the one who always– you’re always checking up on me, sneaking into my room, touching my face and arms and– how else am I supposed to take that?”

It sounds romantic, Logan realizes, after he’s spit all that out– and it does sound like he’s putting the blame of your dynamic on you. And, even worse, it’s all just out there in the open.

“Really. I’m not the only one who cares, Logan, you…” You shake your head, and instead pull his flannel out from under the blanket. “You left this for me. Why do you make it sound like it’s all just me?”

“Okay, fine, it isn’t. Leave it alone, Angel.” Logan pleads a little, his face turning red.

“You’re always acting like I’m gorgeous, you constantly hug me and lean into me, there was that time you let me sleep on top of you–” You continue, feeling more and more confused. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to make you sound like an asshole.”

Logan blinks, feeling the argument dissipate, as it often does, whenever you get close to confronting each other about feelings– you always manage to fly away.

He won’t let you, not this time.

“You didn’t. I am an asshole– I’ve never bothered to tell you how I feel.” Logan mutters, and the way your face blanches in fear, shyness, tells him to keep going, to push the boundaries. “I let my own stupid ego get in the way of actually caring about you, and I’m not going to make that mistake again. I’ve always– I really love you, Angel. And I’m sorry I never made you feel like that was true, I’m sorry that it’s taken until you got hurt for it to be real.”

You have an incredulous look on your face, one Logan wishes he could take a picture of and frame somewhere, because it’s genuinely funny, but then your lip quivers, and he feels like an asshole again.

You feel like an idiot. You think, all this time, what’s bothered you is that you’ve been avoiding the fire– the real ones, sure, but more the things your mother fostered in you. Your trust issues, the way how you hold people dearly in your heart but you can’t let them get close because you worry you’ll never be enough, it’s all been burning for years inside you, and you’ve never had to confront it until Logan decided to stoke the flames.

“It’s always been real for me, too.” You whisper, trying not to cry. “I just… I don’t always believe if people care about me, I never feel good enough to be something for anyone. It’s not you, Logan, it’s my mom, my upbringing, really.”

You give him a short, brief explanation of what your mom did– something you’ll surely expand on later, when it’s not so fresh, when you haven’t been literally burned recently, and the memories pain you more than ever– and Logan’s face turns sharp, his brows furrow, he’s clearly deeply angry by whatever you’ve just told him. 

“I’m stupid. I just assumed– it was me putting too much pressure on you. You shouldn’t have been on this mission, that’s fucking awful.” He finally says, and then scowls. “I know you don’t want to hear it right now, but fuck that lady.”

You snort at that. “Yeah. Yeah, it was never you– I’ve always loved you too, Logan, more than you know. I’m sorry I’m always running from you.”

“Oh, so you’re consciously doing that?” He teases, trying not to react too much to your proclamation of love for him, although his brain feels as if it’s short-circuited. He squeezes your hand, and you laugh.

“Yup. I’m almost glad I got hurt, if it makes us more serious.” You comment, but Logan turns glum at that.

“Don’t say that, Angel. I still feel bad about it.” Logan holds your face, caressing your cheeks, staring into your eyes, glad now that you’re not going to shove him away. “Next time, I’ll try to take the hits. I’ll live.”

“You don’t have to–” Before you can start rejecting Logan’s offer, he leans in really close, almost kissing you but not quite, his breath hot on your own mouth.

“I want you to live.” He murmurs, and you feel yourself turn warm at that. 

When he presses his lips to yours, it’s almost chaste, because Logan still isn’t sure how many of your walls he can break down in one day– but for once you’re quick to act in the opposite direction now, lifting tubes out of your arm (irresponsible as hell, Logan would say later on) so you can better reach his face, and you run your fingers through his hair as you kiss him, again, and again. 

It’s soft, pliant, and warm, and Logan doesn’t quite know what to say when you come back up for air, breathing deeply, body sweaty from both recovery and how intense this is– he feels around you, around your waist as he leans in again, and you giggle, pulling away for just a moment before kissing him again.

His hands are gentle, skimming over your body without trying to hurt the burns on your back– but Logan feels you clamber onto him, onto his lap, and then he feels the soft feathers of your wings as they pull themselves outward, into the open.

He opens his eyes, and grins in a wolfish manner. Maybe you’ve been changed by what happened, maybe you aren’t the same, but you’re his Angel now, and he prefers that.

He kisses you again.

[lovingpiastri]

YOU ARE IN LOVE (op81 x female!reader)

ᯓ★ there is nothing more tormenting than watching two idiots clearly in adoration with one another & there is nothing more peculiar about how they realise it . ( drabble )

warnings : IDIOTS IN LOVE !? mutual pining & uses of y/n

it was safe to say you and oscar were attached at the hip and aren't to be disconnected , despite the contrast between your professions being out of this world irrelevant to the other's job. yet you still found a way to accompany the other even sometimes if it disturbed your schedules. but gosh no ! this relationship is nothing but platonic * wink wink *

whenever you required to purchase weeks worths of grocery shopping , oscar would be more than over the moon to tag along and occasionally show off that he can carry all your shopping .

on the other hand you , you would show up to all his races even though it would affect your working hours and if oscar placed then that would be the cherry on top . best believe you will be acting like a crazy lunatic of a fan girl whilst chanting his name . infront of all the other drivers to see .. and this is where the teasing begins !!

"just put us out of our *checks time* already ten minutes of misery and admit that you're in love with her."

"oscar likes y/n, oscar likes y/n !"

"grow some balls and go out with her??"

literal school children, possibly even worse . but the worst thing is whenever you walk up to oscar to congratulate him, all of the drivers gaze at you with shit eating grins.

"cough cough , y/n loves oscar." george mutters not sneakily at all to say the least. to which you hit them with "of course i love him, we've been friends for ages !" clearly oblivious to the context , making oscar's ear turn crimson due to the beginning of your answer.

however, after months of endless teasing the most bizzare scenario makes oscar realise that he is infact in love with you . it would be a random tuesday night out in the humid garden, most likely sometime in mid july where the ungodly heat would be trying to kill the both of you . yet on that casual tuesday you would gasp , "there's a typo in the crossword puzzle !" ( b99 reference )

to those words oscar revoked his attention from his phone to your aggrivatingly disturbed face , gazed at you with the biggest heart eyes and it hit him : he adores, cherishes and loves you. and during the weeks on end of knowing , oscar only wondered why he didn't come to the realisation a tad sooner . you're literally perfect for him .

for you however , it's a different story. a typically cliché one .

it would be a night head to toe adorned with booze , sweating and dancing after a successful race where oscar finished p2 , evidently so there would be waves of flirtatious girls swarming him to the point you felt forgotten and cast aside and jealous ? you'd be staring at him from across the dance floor , drink in your grasp squeezing so tight that it was moments away from crushing and smashing into shards . emotions coarsing through your veins mixed with misery, envy and vexation .

the pot of envy was bubbling and it was threatening to overflow or even explode but it cooled down as soon as you noticed oscar only gazing at you, almost yearning .

after that wildly feral night, you wanted nothing more in the world than to now be around oscar 24/7 so you knew what you had to do . admitting was not on the table so you attempted to hint it , but oscar is the definition of oblivious .

"my lip gloss tastes like strawberries wanna taste it?"

"yeah sure, strawberries are in the freezer ."

this would go on for weeks on end until you gave up , finally telling him or screaming in oscar's face to be exact so he got the memo.

"i feel strange when you're around."

"do you have a fever or something?"

"YOU FUCKING IDIOT I'M IN LOVE WITH YOU."

the formula one drivers were most definitely having a field day with the teasing !

©lovingpiastri

[w2mini]

INARIZAKI TEAM . CALL THE POLICE! HUH?!

inarizaki vb team x manager!reader

warnings ; swearing, but its just pure fluff, and they’re all just whipped for you 😋

SYNOPSIS ˎˊ˗ It was currently the students favorite time of the academic year, the intramurals. Unfortunately though, you got injured during one of your games, the Inarizaki vb team panics, chaos ensues.

╰ You honestly don’t know why you agreed to be in this position, but a classmate of yours listed your name on the players for the basketball girls team without your knowledge about it so now you’re quite literally forced to play to represent your class.

“PLEASE I swear it’ll be just one game” one of your class officers pleads for you to join.

“But I don’t even play basketball-“

“We barely have any players and most of us quite literally suck at sports!”

“no”

“yes”

“no”

“I’ll treat you a (favorite food)”

Now you were tempted by that offer, you paused for a moment before letting out a sigh and finally nodded in agreement.

“Alright fine I’ll play” you swore you saw your classmate having sparkles around them after you agreed.

And that is how you ended up in this situation as you were currently warming up on the basketball court and wearing the jersey your class designed, at least the color suited you nicely.

You couldn’t care less about the outcome of the game and you just wanted it to end as soon as possible, that is if it weren’t for them watching on the sidelines.

“GO [NAME]!!”

A certain piss blonde yelled from the audience, your eye twitched in annoyance and you could feel a vein pop from your head, good lord this is so embarrassing.

Although it was the Intramurals, varsity players weren’t allowed to join the games, hence why the volleyball club that you babysit managed decided to watch you play and embarrass you with their loud cheers (Atsumu).

“THATS OUR PRETTY MANAGER OVER THERE!”

“SHOOT THE BALL [NAME]”

You were mentally praying for the gods to take that annoying setter away and saying that he was ready for it, you didn’t even dare to give the group a single glance as your face heated up in embarrassment, your fist was screaming to pack a punch right now.

“Yer look good in that jersey!” why thank you Osamu for being the better twin but did it really have to be in front of half of the school?

And god forbid giving Suna a phone, you can clearly see that he has his phone up with the camera pointed towards you, what ever happened to media privacy these days?

The referee for the game suddenly blew their whistle, signaling to start the match, and gestured for the players to round up on the court.

‘It’s just intramurals’ is what you repeatedly told yourself, while you didn’t care about who would step out of the gymnasium as winners, you felt slightly nervous about making a mistake as you thought about the worst-case scenarios that could go downhill as you played.

One of your classmates noticed this as she approached you and gave a light pat on your back “Just take it easy and enjoy the game” Right, good point, you weren’t even a basketball player in the first place.

──── ──── ──── ──── ──── ──

The game was surprisingly going okay despite being four points away from the other section’s score, sweat trickled down your skin as your breath kept getting heavier. You placed your hands on your knees as you tried to regain your composure, damn since when was basketball this intense?

Meanwhile, on the sidelines, the volleyball club kept cheering for you as the game went on. Despite how worn out you were starting to feel, their cheers never failed to motivate you despite how stupid it’s gonna sound most of the time, a soft smile forms on your lips at the wholesome thought.

“[Name] is surprisingly doing good for a sport she doesn’t play,” Kita stated continuing to observe you, despite the lack of emotion on his face, he was impressed with your stamina and the ability to keep up despite how intense it gets and the disadvantage of your physique. (Atsumu and Osamu’s constant bickering was your stamina training)

Aran nods in agreement with Kita’s statement, unbeknownst to them, it was Aran who taught you a few tricks in basketball since you complained about not knowing the sport, although he wasn’t that much of a player of basketball, he was willing to help you learn since you’re their precious manager after all.

Aran taught back to the week before the intramurals, the volleyball boys had just finished their practice for the day and you were currently passing their water bottles to each one like the amazing manager you were. When it was Aran’s turn to receive it, you handed him the water bottle and proceeded to ask if he still played basketball.

“I don’t play that often anymore, but I still know how to, is something the matter with it?” He asks as he drinks from the bottle and wipes off the sweat from his face with a hand towel.

“It’s nothing serious, I just got forced to play for the upcoming intramurals, and well…” Aran made an ‘oh I see’ expression as he nodded in response.

He ruffled your hair and had a warm smile on his face “If you’re asking for help I’m willing to do so, we can start tomorrow after club practice” Sometimes you ask yourself if the man in front of you right now descended from the heavens.

“Really?! That really means a lot, thanks Aran!” he swore he saw your eyes light up. You got the ACE of Inarizaki feeling his knees weaken at your sight, you were just so adorable!

Atsumu abruptly standing up from his seat and cheering loudly snapped Aran from his thoughts, he can be so ironic sometimes.

The ball was passed to you as you dribbled away with it to go to the designated hoop your team was supposed to shoot in. Unfortunately for you, the disadvantage of getting the ball was getting cornered by the enemy team.

Fuck, this is what you hated the most, defense. You held the ball tightly as they cornered you from the back to prevent you from going further.

As you were about to attempt to pass the ball to another teammate, you felt a sudden force slam into your back, causing you to drop to one knee and gasp in pain as your knee collided with the ground, you swore you felt a bruising form there.

You were thrown off balance as your back was forced downward, propelling your body forward and sending a sudden shock through your spine with the sudden movement. You tumbled to the ground, hitting your head with a resounding thud.

It all happened simultaneously, a sharp, unbearable ache shot through your knee. You couldn't tell if it was bleeding or not due to your hazy vision. As if that wasn't enough, your back threatened to cramp up while your head throbbed with an intense, stabbing pain.

You could hear the referee's whistle signaling to stop the game. You clutched your head, trying to ease the pain, as your body shivered from the overwhelming intensity of the pain from head to knee.

“Oh my god are you okay? I didn’t mean to trip on you I’m so sorry!” one of the players from the other section that you were playing against with cries out, you could hear the visible guilt in her voice.

"[Name]!" Aran's urgent call rang out, prompting the entire volleyball club to spring into action. In an instant, they converged around you, their concern palpable as panic threatened to take hold.

“IS SHE OKAY? SOMEONE CALL THE POLICE!” Michinari panicked, not even realizing he mentioned the wrong department.

“Dumbass! yer mean the ambulance?” Atsumu replies as he had his arms protectively wrapped around your figure.

“Atsumu that’s enough, we should bring her to the nurse’s office.” Kita instructs as they all nodded.

“Can yer stand?” Atsumu assists you to stand on your feet and observed your figure, you weakly nod as you barely stood up straight, not when your knee was bleeding.

“Are yer a dumbass? Isn’t it obvious she can’t?!” says Osamu and this only fueled Atsumu’s anger until you spoke.

"No, I-I'm fine, I swear," you lied, trying to prevent them from bickering further. You feel your legs immediately giving up, so you quickly hold onto Atsumu's arm for support before you completely fall. "Okay, maybe not," you muttered weakly.

As your head spun and your whole body screamed for help, you found yourself holding onto Atsumu's arm for support like how a koala holds onto a tree. You rested your aching head on his shoulder, you couldn't help but release a frustrated sigh. Guilt washed over you as you realized you had dragged them into this mess. This was not how any of this was supposed to go.

The blonde's eyes softened when he saw you, he’s always had a soft spot for you after all. It was rare for you to ask for help from others, but this time was an exception. "I've got ya, princess. Yer can count on me," He said. You simply nodded in reply, not expecting what would happen next.

“Huh wait- what are you doing-“ You gasped when he swept you off your feet and held you in a bridal-style embrace as you held onto his shirt, drawing coos from the surrounding crowd.

“Yer so embarrassing!” Osamu cringed at the scene, Suna took a picture, the others just let out a sigh in disbelief, and you were too exhausted to protest and ask him to release you (you didn’t wanna walk anyway). Despite your weariness, you couldn't help but blush in embarrassment at the attention.

“At least be careful when carrying her yer pig!” the grey-haired twin calls out in concern and annoyance, he could never trust his brother with these types of situations.

“I am being careful! Would ya quit complaining?!” Atsumu retorted as he held onto you tightly as if he was scared to drop you.

“Oh my god, just go!” Aran stops them from fighting further as they all went to the nurse.

──── ──── ──── ──── ──── ──

You were currently sitting on one of the beds as the nurse tended your wound on the knee, “You should be more careful next time. It’s a relief it won't be that serious,” the nurse states as she sanitizes your knee before wrapping it up with a bandage.

You let out a hiss as the pain shot through you but soon collected yourself. You applied the cold compress the nurse had handed you to your forehead, and you felt a surge of cold, refreshing mintiness that eased the cramp in your back, thanks to the cooling patch the nurse had placed there.

Meanwhile outside of the nurse’s office was a bunch of guys who were waiting for you with distressed faces like they had just gotten their horrible exam scores, everyone who passed by them gave them a concerned look.

Although they may not always express it openly, they genuinely value and appreciate your hard work as their manager. Your significant contributions have made you an indispensable part of the club, and it's difficult to envision the team without your steadfast and reliable presence.

Who will refill the water bottles? Who will give them their towels after a match? Who will stop the twins from arguing? Who’s going to shower them with your lovely praises—?!

“You guys look depressed” Your voice suddenly cuts through the unbearable silence that loomed over them as you stood there at the door arms crossed, and a cooling patch on your forehead.

Not wasting a second later, the twins tackled you as they dramatically cried and rambled on how they couldn’t live without you.

“WE THOUGHT YOU WERE GONNA DIE!” chill out Atsumu.

“Please don’t do that again, I haven’t repaid your (favorite food) that I ate the other day” It’s okay Osamu– wait YOU DID WHAT?!

“I don't think you guys should do that-“Go tell them Omimi!

“Be careful with her! she just got out of the office!” Aran calls out in concern, poor him never getting a break with the twins’ antics.

“Andddd that’s going to the favorites album,” says Suna as he records the moment with his phone, what a bastard.

The pair of twins who were still clinging onto you are taken aback when they hear you let out a chuckle. Even Kita seems astonished, holy moly you were smiling? Their manager, who was always so serious and stoic around them was chuckling?!?!

"…Don't worry guys, it's just that my body isn't used to sudden physical activity, but the nurse assured me that I'll be back to normal in no time," you reassured them with a gentle smile playing on your lips, conveying the situation with a calming tone.

With the way they portray you in this moment right now, you probably wouldn't survive a Greek mythology story if Aphrodite was involved.

“Yer cute when ya smile,” Atsumu said as he rested his chin on your shoulder, shamelessly poking your cheek.

Aran approaches you and ruffles your hair, “We’re just glad you’re okay” he says with a warm smile.

Without warning, Michinari enthusiastically shouts, 'GROUP HUG!' and proceeds to pull everyone in close for an embrace.

You have consistently maintained a sense of distance from the boys, even though you are their manager, creating a substantial barrier that keeps you separated from them.

Becoming too personal and vulnerable with them was the last thing you wanted; it's not that you disliked them— you simply didn't want to appear as weak and delicate in their presence.

And not to mention their fangirls too, that burden alone was heavy enough to carry on your own, they were considered one of the best teams nationwide, and it was pressuring enough to just stand beside them, you weren't strong and outstanding like them, so you decided that it's probably for the best to stay hidden in the shadows.

Walking quickly past them in the hallways, only engaging in conversation if they initiated it, and maintaining a strictly professional relationship with them as classmates. These were the guidelines you set for yourself.

But seeing how much they were worried for you at this moment right now over an injury that would heal quickly tomorrow, you couldn't help but let a sense of vulnerability crack through your shell. You felt safe with them.

Maybe you could start getting used to moments like these.

NOTES ˎˊ˗ did i write this during our intramurals where i was supposed to be cheering for our team but instead wrote this? yes. Also I’m legit about the injury too btw, idk how my classmate survived that, shes a different breed😭😭

IKK im supposed to be updating love next door but i just had a thought, erm… forgive me🥹🥹

im never getting tired w/ these inarizaki manager fics, someone tag me on more 🔥🔥

hello mga fellow filipinos na intrams ngayon, kaya pa ba? HHAHAHHAHAH

sorry if i couldnt fit the rest of the inarizaki members and gave them more interactions… i may or may have not focused more on [name], whoops

[profoundbondfanfic]

Hey I have been looking for Dark Dean and Castiel fics where Dean is OBSESSED with Castiel do you have any recommendations?

Hey hey! Sorry for the delay, but I hope these recs are welcomed now just in time for Halloween.

A bit of a warning though -- some of these fics get really dark and involve very intense subjects so pls mind the tags before reading these.

all that’s sacred comes from youth by fullvoid (Mature, 8k words)

Teenage Dean has a dark, possessive streak he hides well. But when he and Cas agree to get married at age 35 if neither of them has by then, he finds he can't quite just leave it at that and spends years stalking Cas from the shadows and sabotaging every relationship he starts. Or Dean, in love with his best friend Cas and obsessed with a pact they made when they were 17 years old, gets rid of his boyfriends one by one through escalating means.

Between Love and Agony by Duckyboos (Explicit, 53k words)

Dean Winchester is in love. Like, bonafide heart eyes and deep sighs, hung-the-moon love. There's just one problem: the lucky guy is his husband's identical twin, Castiel. The two of them have been having a kinky affair for years, burrowing under each other’s skin and setting up camp. Which is why, after Castiel goes missing, Dean’s about ready to tear the world apart looking for him. When Castiel eventually returns to him, he’s been through literal hell, managing to drag himself out, bloody and raw, for Dean. Together, they discover a way to make Castiel whole again — though the price will be gruesome… and there will certainly be hell to pay.

CONventional Psychopathy 'Verse by Mayalaen (Explicit, 441k words)

Castiel Novak is a Cleaner. One of the agency's best. He and his Handler, Dean Winchester, have a high success rate in a world where the worst criminals aren't imprisoned for their crimes, but instead are captured by licensed serial killers who dispose of them, doing what they do best while getting paid for it. Cas doesn't form attachments, doesn't leave himself open for a risk like that, but Dean wormed his way into Cas' life and into his house. Does Dean realize what falling in love with a serial killer really means?

Do Anything For You by ImYourHoneyBee (Explicit, 7k words)

“How’re you feeling?” his earlier worry and fear have faded into the background because of how freaking good Jimmy looks right now, but that’s the thing to ask. Besides, even if he was planning on killing him soon, propriety has to be observed. Dean has a reputation to uphold as a fine, upstanding citizen in this city. Patrick Bateman wishes he was as smooth as Dean is. “Better than the guy who hit me,” Jimmy tells him with uncharacteristic bluntness, nodding toward the curtained-off bed, “I overheard the doctors saying he flatlined around the same time I did.” “Oh shit,” Dean says, glancing over to try and mask the sick roil that sets up shop in his stomach. “He make it?” The ghost of a smile plays over Jimmy’s chapped lips, “He’s in a better place now.” x The one where Cas's soul takes over Jimmy's body.

Free to Be You and Me by jhoom (Explicit, 49k words) --- This says incomplete but it's a satisfying ending so we think the author just didn't close it out.

Dean lost his parents in a fire when he was younger, and he’s never been the same since. Based on the prompt: "I was ten years old when I witnessed the murder of my entire family. The police told me that the person I saw commit the crime was a figment of my imagination - a result of the trauma - but I couldn’t let it rest. In a strange way, they saved me - with everyone else gone I might have gone to pieces, but I HAD to find the killer, so I held it together, I got through school, I rose through the ranks of detective, and now finally, finally, I’m on their trail. I have to find them. I have to meet them. I have to tell them that I love them."

Hello Night by almaasi (Explicit, 11k words)

Demon!Dean/Priest!Cas AU. Castiel summons Dean to the crossroads, and he only wants one thing: him.

Make Me by saltnhalo (Explicit, 4k words)

A beautiful man on a motorbike shows up at Castiel's business with a t-shirt that says Make me and a smirk that could put the devil to shame. How is Castiel possibly meant to resist?

Monsters by Miss_Lv (Explicit, 11k words)

Castiel prayed to God, to help them, to save them. God never answered. But Dean did. It was the monster who saved Castiel, not God.

Seven Heavenly Virtues by Strixes (Explicit, 108k words)

The Mark of Cain turns Dean into a demon once more. Dean is adamant that this time he's found a way to keep the mark under control but it's clear to Castiel that Dean needs help if he's going to fight the mark's influence until they can find a way to get rid of it. More than anything Castiel wants to save him, but if anyone needs to be saved it's Castiel as he tries to navigate where Dean ends and the Mark of Cain begins.

The Prodigal Bond by vipjuly (Explicit, 68k words)

In exchange for conjugal visits, Dean Winchester gives FBI Supervisory Special Agent Castiel Novak all the dirt he needs to bring down national crime rings. It's a tit-for-tat situation; primal, animalistic, and probably ten kinds of illegal. When a case is revealed to be closer to Castiel than what he considers safe, he and Dean must work together to make sure that Crowley goes down for good. Will Castiel be able to keep Dean at arm's length, or will the charming convict finally get what he's been asking for all along? What lengths will Castiel go to... at Dean's behest?

These Violent Delights by SomethingBlue42, xfancyfranart (Explicit, 43k words)

Dean Winchester, war vet and functioning alcoholic with a life that’s going nowhere, takes a job at Baltimore Hospital for the Criminally Insane. Dean had never heard of Dr. Castiel Novak notorious serial killer and cannibal given he’d been dodging bullets and performing field triage during Novak’s sensational trial. Seasoned orderly Rufus lays out the rules: Do not touch the glass. Do not approach the glass. You pass him nothing but soft paper - no pencils, no pens. Use the sliding food carrier only, no exceptions. If he attempts to pass you anything, do not accept it. And most importantly: don't tell him anything personal. But Dean was never much for following the rules and Castiel has a way of making Dean feel like he isn’t the grade-a loser his hot-shot FBI agent brother thinks he is. Then, a senator’s daughter goes missing, setting forth a chain of events that put Dean on a path that forces him to choose where his loyalties lie and just how far he’s willing to walk into the dark.

This Tainted Love You've Given by LazarusRose, xfancyfranart (Explicit, 17k words)

Everyone has their hobbies—Dean’s just happens to involve a lot more blood and screaming than most people’s. And sure, maybe murder isn’t the nicest way to blow off steam, but Dean’s always thought that being nice is overrated anyway. His latest victim, a pretty guy with startling blue eyes, should be nothing special, just another nameless body on Dean’s list. But then, after Dean kills and buries him, he turns back up at Dean’s house again the next day. What’s a guy to do when they’ve accidentally gotten an immortal witch convinced that they’ve got some kind of profound bond?

Happy Halloween!!👻🎃

[nvrsaidiwasinurcloset]

could you do ethan x fem reader smut where they aren’t allowed to see each other due to their families feuding??

like real romeo and juliet kind of this where he climbs up into the window while she’s doing skincare or something. i can literally imagine them just talking about how much they missed each other (because they aren’t allowed to be together) then it ends up escalating into like dom ethan smut 😋😋

sorry if that’s confusing!!

Hi! I hope you like this!💕 I had the worst writers block for the last few days and I'm trying to get back into it haha

Check Yes, Juliet - Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader

This contains SMUT - Minors DNI

Summary: Your forbidden to see Ethan after some drama between your family and his, so he sneaks through your bedroom window to see you.

Contains: Fluff, a hint of angst, Dom!-ish Ethan(Nothing super rough), I used "good girl" in this because I feel like Ethan would totally say that. oral - m and f receiving, p in v, Unprotected sex(Pulling out though:) Jesus, If I missed anything, let me know 💕

A/N: Ya girl loves pop-punk, especially from the 2000's so that's where I got the title for this lmao.

You grew up with Ethan, quickly becoming best friends because your parents were so close to his…until they weren’t. They had this huge falling out after Richie’s killing spree in Woodsboro. When you were both told you couldn’t see each other, you rebelled, and it only made the two of you even closer. So close that it turned into a secret relationship.

During summer break before you were both getting ready to start college, it got so much harder to see Ethan. Your mom worked from home, and your dad saved up his PTO so he could take time off to spend time with you before you left for university. It was the same one Ethan was going to, and you felt a little relieved that you’d finally have the opportunity to be with him without worrying about what your parents thought. They probably wouldn’t even let you go if they found out he was going to the same school, especially after they forced you to block his number and all of his social media. Ethan found his way around it because he couldn’t just not talk to you.

You’d just gotten home from dinner with your parents, excusing yourself to get ready for bed. You were so tired after a long day with them, and you couldn’t wait to talk to Ethan. You had this app your parents had no idea that you used to message him. You let him know that you were home, and waited for him to respond as you took your makeup off.

When he messaged you back, your eyes widened, wondering if he was crazy when he said he was outside of your house. You walked over to your window and opened the curtain to see your boyfriend standing in your front yard, a sweet smile on his lips as you quietly opened the window.

“What the fuck are you doing?” you whisper-yelled, as he held his finger up to your mouth for you to be quiet. He walked over to the tree beside your window, easily climbing up it as he made his way to you. “Ethan, this is crazy,” you said, as he crawled inside, his feet hitting the floor harder than he expected them to. You soon heard someone running up the stairs. “Shit. Hide under my bed.”

“You okay, sweetheart?” your mom asked as she opened the door. She glanced at the opened window behind you, a curious look on her face as she turned her attention back to you.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just tripped over the pile of laundry I’ve been refusing to put away,” you lied, as she rolled her eyes.

“I told you to clean that up. Goodness, I thought someone broke in here when I saw the open window,” she said, doing a double take of the room.

“No, I tripped on the way to close it. I forgot to before we left earlier,” you said, as she nodded. “I need to get some sleep if we’re getting up early tomorrow.”

“Okay, don’t forget to set your alarm. Wake up as early as you need to. Your dad is sleeping with the sound machine, so we won’t hear it,” she said, as you innocently smiled at her. You could only imagine the ideas your boyfriend had running through his head as he listened to your mom. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” you said, as she walked back out of the room, closing the door behind her.

You quietly walked over to the door and locked it as Ethan crawled out from under your bed.

“Hey, baby,” he said, walking up behind you and wrapping his hands around your waist. “I missed you so much.”

You turned in his arms to face him, “Ethan, have you lost your mind? If you get caught in here, we’re dead.”

“I thought you’d be happy to see me,” he said, pulling his hands off you. “I can’t believe this shit. We’re both eighteen and we’re still letting our parents control our lives.”

You sighed as you reached over to grab his hands and place them back on his hips before putting yours around his neck. “I am happy to see you, babe. I just don’t want our parents to not pay for school. That’s the only thing that’s kept us apart.”

“We could always run away together,” he said, before leaning down to kiss you. “I’d rather drown in student loan debt than keep doing this shit.”

“Just three more weeks. We’ll be a few hours from here with no parents to keep their eye on us,” you smiled, “Just think of all the dates, all the fun things we can do-“

“All the sex we can have,” he said, cutting you off as his hands started to rub against your hips. You started to blush as you thought about it. “We could do that right now…,” he suggested, gently squeezing you. “As hot as the nudes are that you send me, you have no idea how bad I’ve been craving the real thing.” He leaned down to start placing kisses on your neck, making you whimper. “I can’t wait to taste that sweet pussy.”

“Fuck, Ethan,” you gasped out, as his hand started to rub your pussy over your pajama bottoms.

“I know you missed this, too. How many times have you fingered yourself and wished they were mine?” he questioned, sliding his hand inside your pajama shorts. “You’re so wet, baby.”

“My fingers aren’t as good as yours,” you whimpered, as he slid one of his fingers inside you. He angled his hand just right so he could hit that spot inside of you, your legs almost giving out when he pressed against it hard enough. “Can you use two?”

He started to laugh a little, “You can barely stand up with one. I don’t know if you can handle two.”

“We could go to my bed,” you suggested, as he shook his head.

“No, babe,” he said, pulling his hand out and backing you up against the door. He slid your pajama shorts and panties down at the same time before he dropped to his knees in front of you. “Put your leg on my shoulder,” he said, as your eyes grew wide.

“What if I hurt you? Or what if I fall? My mom will definitely come back up here if she hears anything else,” you said, your tone nervous as Ethan smiled up at you.

“You’ll still have one foot on the ground. And you can put as much weight on me as you need to. I just need your legs spread enough for me to eat you out, babe.”

“Fuck,” you whispered, before doing what he asked. He teased your clit with his tongue before he started to sloppily eat you out. “Baby, that feels so good.”

One of your hands tangled in his hair as he pleasured you, making him groan into your pussy.

He kept going until your legs started to shake, letting him know how close you were. He pulled his mouth away as you pouted in response.

“I’m going to get you off, baby. Hang on,” he said, gently sliding your leg off him so you could fully stand up. He stood up in front of you, sliding two of his fingers into your pussy. You grabbed his shirt, pulling his body closer to you yours as he fingered you.

“I’m so close,” you whimpered, his face inches from yours. “I’m so scared I’m going to be loud.”

“Shh, you won’t be,” he said, leaning in to kiss you. His mouth caught all your sounds as his fingers pressed harder on that spongy spot inside you.  His free hand went to your hip to hold you against the door as your walls started to flutter around his fingers. You were tugging on his shirt so hard you knew you’d stretch it as the feeling washed over you, your legs turning to jell-o as he got you through it.

He pulled his mouth away from yours after you stopped whimpering, your hazy eyes connecting to his dark ones. Your hand reached down to start palming him over his jeans, the feeling making him gasp.

“Let me return the favor,” you smirked, dropping to your knees in front of him. He watched you, his breathing getting heavier after you freed his hard cock from his boxers.

You lazily started to stroke him as you looked at him through your lashes, your bottom lip in between your teeth. You looked so innocent in front of him, but he knew you were far from that.

“Look at you, being such a good girl down on your knees for me,” he said, running his hand through your hair. You whimpered at his praise, your pussy starting to throb. You leaned forward, licking the underside of his cock before swirling your tongue over his tip. “You seriously give the best head.”

He meant what he was saying, but he also knew what his praising did to you. Some of his best orgasms have come from you just sucking his cock, especially when he praised you the whole way through it.

You started to take him further into your mouth, your cheeks hollowing as you sucked. “Yeah, baby, just like that,” Ethan said, his grip tightening on your hair once his tip was far enough back to make you gag. “You make me feel so good.”

It didn’t take long for tears to be streaming down your cheeks from all the gagging, his cock soaked in your saliva as he started to thrust into your mouth. You knew he was close, his groans getting whinier.

“Fuck, that perfect mouth is going to make me cum,” he said, “Where do you want it?”

You grabbed the back of his thighs to keep him close, letting him know that you wanted him to cum in your mouth. His thrusts started to get erratic as he groaned, releasing into your mouth. His hand in your hair was shaky as your mouth kept moving, the slight overstimulation feeling so good for him.

“Baby, you gotta stop,” he said after a few more seconds. When you pulled away, your chin was covered in your spit as you wiped it on the back of your hand. “Did you like that?”

“Mhm,” you said sweetly, nodding as you took your shirt off.

“This sweet, innocent shit you do during sex just does something to me,” he groaned, pulling his own shirt off.

“Oh yeah? What does it do to you?” you asked, as you laid down on your bed to wait for him.

“It makes me want to not take it easy on you, because I know you can take it,” he smirked, as your hands started to massage your breasts.

“What if I can’t take it?” you asked, your voice soft as he stared you down.

“Then I’ll make you take it,” he said, as he crawled on the bed beside you. “You know if you tell me to stop, I will, but I think you’ll just beg me to go faster or fuck you harder.”

“Fuck,” you sighed, as you felt his hand cup over your pussy. “Just don’t make me be too loud.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he said, as he started to crawl on top of you. Your legs instinctively spread for him as you waited for him to fuck you, but he just teased you. He dipped the tip of his cock inside you, then pulled it out to rub it against your clit. He kept doing it until you finally started to whine. “You want it?” he asked, smirking at you as you started to squirm.

“I fucking need it,” you said, your eyes pleading with his. “Please, baby.”

“Only cause you asked so nicely,” he said, as he stuck more than the head of his cock inside of you, the feeling of him stretching you out making you moan. “So fucking tight,” he gasped, filling you up further with each small thrust, until he was fully inside of you.

He wanted to tease you with slow thrusts, but he couldn’t. You felt so amazing around him as his hips started to move faster.

“That feel good?” he asked, as you moaned in response. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

You were wrapping your legs around him so he could go deeper when he pulled them away, pressing your thighs against your tummy. The new position had him hitting the right spot, his cock filling you so good that you couldn’t hold in your whimpers.

“So deep,” you moaned, as his face tensed up, a feral look in his eyes as he started to pound into you. “Oh fuck!”

“That’s it, baby. You can take it,” he grunted. Your jaw dropped as you were on the edge of your orgasm. “Fuck, you’re already squeezing my cock. You gonna cum?”

“Mhm,” you whimpered, as you felt your legs being spread a little from the position he had them in.

“Rub your clit, baby,” he said, as both of his hands on the back of your thighs gripped you tighter. You did as he said, the euphoric feeling hitting you so hard that you cried out. “Fuck,” Ethan groaned, “Try to be quiet, baby.”

“I can’t” you whimpered, as he chased his own orgasm.

“Bite your lip, cover your mouth, do something. I’m so close,” he said, “I thought you didn’t want us to get caught.”

“I, fuck..I don’t,” you got out between your whimpers.

“Gonna cum,” he said, pulling his cock out and shooting his cum all over your thighs. His eyes kept fluttering as he caught his breath. “I need to find something to get this off you.” You felt his release start to drip down your thighs, towards your ass.

“Uh, I have tissues on my dresser,” you suggested, as he took a couple more deep breaths.

“I can’t wait to do this all the time with you,” he said, as he stood up to grab some tissues.

“Yeah, because dorm sex is going to happen all the time,” you joked, as he smiled.

“I don’t know, maybe my roommate will be cool,” he said, cleaning you up. “Shit, I’ll get to introduce you to people as my girlfriend.”

“You can’t wait for that, can you?” you asked, smiling at him as he shook his head.

“For real though, I think I’ll get so used to spending all my free time with you that I’ll just lose my mind whenever we’re home on break,” he sighed, throwing the tissues away before he laid down beside you.

“You could always just sneak through my window again.”

[justsomerandom-nerd]

Alfred taught Bruce how to drive and it was the worst experience of his life. He had less of a heart attack when Bruce decided to fight crime dressed like a furry.

Bruce tried to teach Dick but backed out after the car ended up wrapped around a tree. Dick was only fourteen but come on Bruce, you let me fight crime on a school night but you won’t teach me how to drive.

Alfred picked up the slack and within a couple weeks, Dick was a better driver than half of Gotham. There are no traffic laws in Gotham, so it’s not hard, per se.

Jason had the best understanding of how a car worked. He could barely reach the brake, but he could Hotwire a car in ten seconds flat and Alfred didn’t ask questions. Still, he needed hours to get his license, and Bruce wouldn’t just sign the form. (No Jason, driving the Batmobile doesn’t count.) He didn’t really need any guidance, he never so much as blew a stop light, and it was really just an excuse for them to talk. Jason died before he was old enough to get his license, but he had more than enough hours. Alfred has the log, crumpled and faded, stuffed in a box under his bed, signed, alongside Jason’s forgotten drivers permit. It’s got a little heart on it, he was a donor.

Tim learned to drive from Jack Drake, and Alfred almost regrets not getting to teach him. It was something he wanted to bond with him over. But then Tim goes to Alfred, sheepishly, can you teach me to drive standard? It only takes a couple sessions, and Alfred has a heart attack when they roll backwards, but they get a laugh out of it after. Tim’s not half bad at it, after all.

Steph is no protege. She never has been. Her mom is too shakey to drive, still recovering, and her dad, well it’s hard to teach a kid to drive from blackgate. She won’t ask Tim, he’s only fifteen, and Bruce she despises. But she needs hours and she needs someone to sign her log. Alfred agrees, a little hesitant, but hey, she needs help. It’s the first chance he gets to know her. They make a sudden stop, and her arm curls around her stomach, scared for a child that hasn’t been born. At some point she says, some days I have to stop myself from buying a car seat. I know if I did, I wouldn’t be able to let go.

Cass comes next, and it’s not like she’s never driven before. She’s just never driven with rules before. She blows past stop signs with shakey apologies, but he never yells. It takes her a couple days to get used to not driving like she’s in a high speed chase, and when she does, it’s so relaxing. She drives Alfred around Gotham on errands and they go out to lunch, and even when she has her license they make it a thing. She’s his only granddaughter after all, why shouldn’t they?

Duke isn’t half bad. Alfred shows him the ropes, and he’s a little more nervous than the others. Duke makes less mistakes, and finally, he relaxes. He points out places around Gotham he knows from being a kid living in the city, and Alfred hears how lovingly he speaks about it. They drive a lot at night since Duke patrols during the day, and Gotham at night is a very different story. It’s more alive. And Duke knows the streets like the back of his hand, because it’s his city. He belongs there, just as much as he belongs with the rest of the Waynes.

Damian is a difficult story. He’s known how to drive since he was a literal child, so he’s understandably pissed when Bruce still makes him get practice hours off the vigilante clock. Dick is conveniently stuck in Bludhaven, and Damian simply wants to get it done as soon as possible. Alfred is his second choice, the only person he can think of spending forty unbearable hours driving with. It’s quite pleasant, Alfred lets him pick the music and they bond over a love of classical music. Alfred’s errands take excruciatingly long but after, they grab lunch, and oh why don’t we stop and see the knew exhibit at the Gotham Art Museum. Damian spends hours ranting about his siblings and Bruce, and Alfred tells him stories of how insufferable Bruce was as a child.

(I just think it’d be funny if Bruce was like, I know you could drive at 11 but you should probably get your required hours in out of costume, but I’m busy and you’re grandpa wants to spend time with you)

[kazumist]

EPISODE 17 ✿ ENDEARING

YOU + ME = LOVE — A DILUC SMAU

masterlist / prev ep / next ep / wc: 794

it was silly, really. 

it was silly ever since diluc realized his feelings. he suddenly finds everything about you so endearing. he finds it ridiculous how he feels himself get all giddy when you’re not even doing anything. he finds it ridiculously endearing that the simple thought of you is enough to make him feel this way.

with finals approaching, all you and diluc do is technically just review the coverage of your exams. and when you’re lucky enough to finish early, you two would just stay at your spot in the library and kill time. “professor barnes is the literal worst, i swear!” you complained. professor barnes, your teacher for practical research, isn’t really the best. he tends to skip his class (you once thought it was ironic that he was the one cutting class instead of his own students). “let me guess, he didn’t turn up for your class with him again?” diluc asks.

“yeah, and as per usual, we just sat in the classroom like total idiots because we haven’t received any feedback yet about our draft for chapters one and two!” you complained to him again, groaning in annoyance as you felt diluc rub a hand against your back—his personal way of showing comfort.

“if you’d like…” he starts.

“nope! nuh-uh. you are not going to be the one who’s going to review our draft.” you knew immediately what he was going to suggest. and you shut him down as soon as you can. as much as you admire how diluc is so dedicated and hardworking, you don’t really want to be a burden.

“but i don’t have much on my plate right now.”

“liar. kaeya told me that you guys are busy with your capstone project these days.” 

he tilts his head at you, confused. “you’re friends with kaeya?”

“who isn’t friends with kaeya?”

“fair enough.”

“but seriously, diluc. you don’t have to do it. professor barnes will get the consequences of his actions soon enough. thanks for the offer, though; it’s appreciated.” a sigh escapes your lips as you lay your head to rest on the table, using your arms as a pillow. “i’m so tired," you mumble.

“you should rest for now," he says in a softer voice this time.

“don’t you have class after this?” you moved your head to his direction so you could look at him. diluc stares back at you. you had a few strands of hair covering your vision and diluc had to resist himself from brushing them away and tucking them behind your ear. “our prof just left us with an activity since she had an errand to do.” he said a bit late.

“are you done with it?” 

“not yet.”

“huh? why not?” your voice was a bit… muffled? or a bit hard to decipher because of your position. but diluc understood you word for word nonetheless.

“i guess you could say that i’m a bit lazy at the moment.”

“you? lazy? are you really the diluc ragnvindr that everyone loves and adores?”

“oh, shut it.” he playfully rolled his eyes at you with a smile.

not too long after, you dozed off. leaving you and diluc in a comfortable silence. no one was around the floor you guys were in as usual. this time, he finds the courage to brush those strands of hair away from your face.

it’s alright to be selfish every once in a while, right? he thought.

he glances at you and observes your sleeping figure. you looked peaceful as you slept. calm breaths came in and out of you. is it silly of him to think that you look so pretty right now, even though you were just napping? diluc couldn’t formulate the right words to describe you back then. but now he has one.

endearing.

everything that you do or say is just so… endearing to him. diluc didn’t know that one could have such an effect on him. hell, he didn’t even expect to fall in love in the first place. during his years in school, he was only surrounded by people who would fall in love. never did he expect that he would end up being included in its population.

but if he’s going to be honest? he wouldn’t ask for anything more.

time ticked by and diluc sat there by your side during your whole nap. he simply shot a text at one of his classmates, saying that he wasn’t feeling well (he thought of saying that he got diarrhea, but he thought that would be too exaggerated) and that he wouldn’t be able to accompany them on their errand. so maybe skipping is a bit worth it.

after all, he was with you. and that was enough for him.

taglist (open): @ryuryuryuyurboat @g4bbyyy @kizakiss @quackimilktea @mochiboo123 @thystarsshine @cerisescherries @jamieexistss @the-ghost-0f-t0m0 @aethion @dottoreworld-page @naishite @sleepyeri @staaarhin @eroxotckv @kiyiiaarchived @fallenssun @lolmeowing @dorryx @astolary @kissingkzuha @axerrri @a1-ic3 @lottierulez @livelaughlovekuni @sorcerersseestars @whipped-for-fictionals @morganadorodo @briluvspnk @venderretta @xiaosoneandonly @angeilix @morgyyyyyyy @kazioli @the-massive-simp @qtange @tiredjxnna @yuminako @acheronie @sn1perz @akitokisser @siu-ssi @artri-ad @hyeinszn @saeskiss @bubblegum-angelquartz @boomie-123 @moni11032 @sandwichmyonetruelove @cherrybb-ily @itztaki @dontmindtheevie @hotgirlshit5 [1/2]

[asklilmissrarity]

The Future of Lil Miss Rarity

Hello everyone, this is Jay Tonique (formerly known as Lil Miss Jay), the writer, artist, everything other than the music in the Lil Miss Rarity animation for the blog "Lil Miss Rarity."

As some of you know, Lil Miss Rarity was an ongoing outlet for my physical, verbal and emotional abuse I was suffering prior to and leading up to Lil Miss Rarity's release, October 11th 2011.

The blog took off so heavily that my entire artistic career became a viable future for me, allowing me to profit from my art, build a huge loving fanbase, and even allowing me to become something of a celebrity in the Brony community (even very much hated by a large portion of the community).

It's needless for me to say that Lil Miss Rarity not only changed but saved my life. I was on the verge of taking my own life around the time the blog was started, due to the abuse I was going through, and if it weren't for the success of the blog that fateful October week, I would certainly not be here, typing this right now. I owe my life to you all, and the support you've given me for this blog.

However, it's time for the news I know very few people want to hear. In fact, I'm sure just reading this line right here has people's hearts sinking, but please, don't be anxious, please read the full post.

I would like to say: Please read the full post, I am going to be very clear about the future.

Moving forward, Lil Miss Rarity will no longer be updated, and the blog is officially entirely over, as of this post.

I am still looking for a musician to commission a new song for the remake of the Lil Miss Rarity animation on YouTube, which will be my final major update involving the blog, and then I will be putting the blog entirely to rest. The animation will serve as a fond emotional farewell to Lil Miss Rarity.

However, that's not the end of the twisted grimdark storytelling. I have decided to make a spiritual successor, a new IP, entirely my own and not using My Little Pony as a crutch.

I won't get too into it, but I left the Brony fandom long ago. It was both the greatest thing to ever happen in my life, and the absolute worst thing to ever happen in my life. I met great friends, but also met unbelievably horrible sick people, many of which I literally got FBI involvement to deal with and many of which are literally in prison now.

Due to this, and many many more reasons I'm leaving out, I cannot and will not continue to be a part of the fandom. This is just a few reasons, as well, that continuing to have Lil Miss Rarity exist as a My Little Pony blog just doesn't make any sense to me.

So what am I doing moving forward?

A brand new IP called "Melodi." It's about a magic school student who is part of a wealthy family who goes on a magical twisted adventure in a horrifying grimdark world.

It will have characters either very slightly or very heavily inspired by the characters of Lil Miss Rarity, with Melodi of course being inspired by Rarity.

It will also be an ongoing web comic, similar to LMR, and will encourage fan feedback just as much as LMR did, but will not be an Ask Blog like LMR.

I plan to release character concepts for the cast of Melodi soon.

Now, there's probably a lot of questions moving forward, so I'll try to answer them now, as well as in asks on this blog, though I'd prefer you send the asks about Melodi to my main blog at http://www.jayisbutts.com/ask

Here's some questions I think will be asked, and I'll answer them here:

"Will this blog be on Tumblr?" - Yes, and on Patreon. Each update will be on Patreon first. When an update comes out on Patreon, the previous update will go public at the same time on Tumblr.

"Don't you think the LMR fanbase you've garnered for 12 years are gonna be upset about this?" - I'm 100% certain they will be, yes. However, I hope that most people who hear this news are excited to see Melodi in the future. I'm very proud of what I've created with LMR, and happy about how many lives I've changed and how many people have told me how much they love LMR. People with the heart-brand tattoo, people with LMR tattoos, people who cosplay as LMR, LMR fanart still being made regularly to this date, real-life Opal dolls, fan-dubs of the comic, fan animations, Anime Music Videos, etc etc etc. I love each and every one of you and I hope that I can one day garner the same amount of love for Melodi as I received for LMR. Thank you all so much for your support.

"What if someone else wants to carry on the LMR blog or use the characters to make their own?" - Please, do. LMR is officially Public Domain as of this post, and I strongly encourage LMR fan-fiction, fan-blogs, etc. I would love if someone could do LMR better than I did. I will very happily use this blog going forward to showcase new LMR blogs and fan-content that I like, and I will very gladly be a guest artist from time to time on an update or two to those blogs. You all have my blessing to take LMR and do with her whatever you want.

"Are you still remaking the LMR animation?" - Yes, I'm still actively seeking a musician to make an official LMR theme that will play in the background of it. It will be a glorious farewell to LMR.

"Is the heart-brand still a thing in Melodi?" - Absolutely, yes. The one incredibly major staple being carried over to Melodi is the heart brand. That symbol has become synonymous with LMR.

"What about the eye scars?" - Probably not. There will be facial scarring of some kind, yes, but considering the new story will not involve killing a cat (not yet anyway), she probably won't have the eye scars.

"Black eye with white pupil?" - We'll see! (It is a sign of Malice's corruption to have a black left eye, so almost certainly yes, but we'll see!)

"Ponies? Humans? Furries?" - I haven't fully decided. In my head, Melodi is a human, but I could also see her being a cat. I'm not sure what I wanna do just yet. However, she will not be a pony. She's gonna be far more human shaped. With boobies.

"Is this one gonna have porn?" - Nope! Not directly as part of the blog, no. Sexual encounters are going to happen in a very fade-to-black way, or a cropped-off-screen sort of way, yes. And there will be sexy characters, like monster girls or demon girls, and I'm sure people will find Melodi herself sexy, too. However, the blog is not going to contain actual porn. No full nudity. It will have what some would refer to as "fetish content," as with LMR, but it's not porn.

"Final question, so... LMR is just... dead? As of now?" - In terms of receiving updates from me, all that will be made is the LMR animation. But no, I certainly hope LMR is not dead. I would love to see the blog live on through other artists I've inspired. You all have my blessing to keep her alive forever.

Thank you all so much for your support.

More news involving Melodi and her twisted adventures coming soon.

I love you all, and I want you all to know how much your support of Lil Miss Rarity has changed my life.

I know it's cringe to type this, but, "I'm literally crying right now."

Mommy will always be pretty.

~Jay Tonique (Formerly Lil Miss Jay)

[hyuckwrlds]

>> caught up

wc: 1.6k you win some you lose some

There are three moments that Jisung will always regret in his life, no matter how hard he tries to forget them. In no particular order, those things are:

Letting Chenle give him a bowl cut before freshman orientation

Sitting with Jaemin during the Calc 122 final (their tests got flagged for cheating)

Meeting you (this might actually be the worst one)

Sure, he knows things could be even worse. In fact, he was really close to peeing himself in his organic chemistry lab once. But even that would be more favorable than his biggest regret—the day he met you.

That day, he’s working a shift at the student store when Chenle suddenly turns to him, gesturing to the tour of prospective students standing outside the glass doors.

“The next group that comes,” he begins, spinning the register keys around a finger. “Over or under fifteen people?”

Jisung snorts; surely the answer is obvious. “Over.”

“You sure?”

“I’ve literally never seen a group with less than fifteen people.”

“Wanna bet on it?”

Jisung snickers, already sensing success. “Bet.”

That was his first mistake.

Because soon enough, the next group arrives and he’s watching, mortified, as Chenle counts a total of fourteen people. Jisung was merely two bodies shy of a victory.

Next thing he knows, he’s trudging out of the storage room in a poorly-ventilated costume of the school’s beloved mascot: Neo, an oversized wolf in a neon green jersey. 

Chenle immediately bursts into a fit of laughter, earning a few stares from the freshmen nearby. Jisung considers smothering him right then and there. His next mistake was not doing that.

“Dude, this thing smells,” he gripes, voice muffled by the large head.

“Yeah,” Chenle agrees, clearly amused. “I don’t think anyone has ever washed that thing.”

Jisung winces at the thought. Then through the perforated plastic eyes, he catches Jaemin barrel into the store, undoubtedly arriving on behalf of Chenle’s erratic texts in their group chat. His face lights up once he sees the giant wolf figure.

“Oh, aren’t you cute?” Jaemin grins, nearly slamming his gym bag into someone’s mom as he makes his way over.

In response, Jisung tries his best to fold his paw into a middle finger.

“Ah—speaking of, I passed by another tour group on the way here,” Jaemin adds. “I think it’s only right that our lovely mascot goes outside to greet them.”

He reaches up to tug at the fake ears and Jisung swats his hands away, scowling behind his mask.

“I’m not doing that,” he groans.

But he stood no chance against the two of them. Chenle and Jaemin easily wrestle Jisung into going outside. They end up (quite literally) having to drag him out the doors and he blames all the time Jaemin spends at the gym.

Now standing at the top of the front steps, he’s held captive by a firm grip around each furry arm. The warmth (and smell) of the suit is starting to get to him so in hindsight, he kind of wants to get it over with as fast as possible. If he can just wave at the group then leave, it'll be fine. It’s not as if anyone will know it’s him anyway.

All of that changes though, once he sees you round the corner.

Fitted in that bright green ‘tour guide’ jacket, Jisung feels his knees buckle as you lead your group towards the store. 

He blanches. “You’ve gotta be kidding—”

There’s a desperate attempt to wiggle away from his friends but it only causes them to hold on tighter, their fingers pressing into the glossy gray fur. Chenle makes it a point to smile widely at him.

“Hey, we can’t have a wolf on the loose when there’s visitors,” he beams.

Jisung’s gonna kill him.

You stop just short of the stairs when you notice their presence, blinking up at Jisung (well, Neo the wolf) in surprise. His heart is pounding in his chest as your eyes flicker between him and his friends.

You’ve shared a few classes with Jisung, and while the two of you have never spoken to each other before, he’s always thought you were pretty (like, really pretty). Meanwhile, he’s not even sure you know his name.

Or that he exists at all.

Beside him, Jaemin coughs out a low, “Wave.”

Hesitantly, Jisung raises his stupidly oversized paw in the air. He can hear you start to tell the story behind the school’s prized mascot but even worse, he can feel Chenle’s hand on his back, pushing him to move closer. Tentatively, Jisung takes a small step forward.

And like the idiot he is, he trips.

With his giant wolf feet, he somehow misses the first step and is sent tumbling to the ground, landing on his stomach as he slides down the concrete stairs. 

This earns a chorus of gasps from you and your group which is soon followed by a stunned silence. He lays still on the ground, frozen under everyone’s stares. Yet that isn’t the most horrifying part.

The worst part was that in the midst of falling, the obscenely large wolf head had come off too.

With his face now smushed into the concrete, Jisung feels the embarrassment coil in the pit of his stomach. He hears someone kneel down beside him.

“Shit, are you okay?” you ask.

Even though the steps were small and the suit had cushioned most of his fall, the lack of a mask meant that he had, in fact, hit his nose at some point. He feels it start to ache. Though the last thing he wants to do right now is face you. He can’t get himself to do it.

Instead, he stays facedown and settles on giving you a thumbs up. You don’t immediately move, so after what feels like an eternity, he hears your shoes shuffle a bit against the pavement. From the corner of his eye, he sees you set down the wolf head beside him. It must’ve rolled away at some point (oh god).

“Jisung…right?”

He stiffens. That might’ve been the worst possible thing that could’ve happened next. He would’ve never expected his name to fall from your mouth and slowly, he lifts head up in humiliation. So much for remaining anonymous.

The sight that greets him, though, could’ve came straight out of a shoujo anime.

Bathed in the afternoon light, you’re hovering over him with knitted brows and a look of concern. He catches you sigh out in relief once his eyes meet yours. Now he’s stuck staring dumbly at you, suddenly at a loss for words. You’re somehow prettier up close.

“You okay?” you ask again, setting a hand on his shoulder.

Jisung is just about to respond when he realizes that his nose is very much going to start bleeding. He quickly pushes himself into a seat and reaches a paw (oh god) to his face. His mouth is uncomfortably dry as he looks at you, nodding sheepishly.

“Y-yeah,” his swallows. “I’m okay.”

Your eyes scan him and his cheeks burn. He looks away, praying you don’t notice how flushed his face probably is.

Unknowingly, you scoot closer. “Are you sure? I can call someone, if you need me to. I’m also First Aid certified.”

He nods again, only to pause at the feeling of blood rushing towards his right nostril and he really can’t risk getting it on the suit. He gives you a bashful look, “Actually…do you have a tissue?”

You smile at the sudden request, laughing softly. “Yeah, I do.”

His heart swoons.

Reaching into your tour guide backpack, you take out a packet of tissues, sliding one out before handing it to him. As best as he could, he presses it against his nose with the stupid paw. You help him stand back up.

“Thanks,” he breathes, giving you a small nod. 

“Yeah, no problem,” you say. “I didn’t know you were the mascot.”

“I’m not,” he admits, nodding towards the two idiots behind him. “I lost a bet.”

This earns another dazzling laugh from you. “Okay, good. I think you look better without the fursuit anyway.”

He blinks at you and suddenly, it’s your turn to blush, waving your hands frantically in the air. “N-not that you don’t look good in the costume. Because you do. You always do. I, um, I just meant that—you know...”

Your words falter and honestly, Jisung is still stunned that you think he looks good at all. He lets out a small laugh, one short and airy to ease you.

“It’s okay,” he reassures. “I know what you mean. Thanks.”

You pause for a split second then, looking up at him as if there’s something more you want to say. Only, your attention is snatched once you seem to remember the unfinished tour waiting for you. You look from the group back to him and take a step back. 

“I gotta go.”

With his free hand, he gives you wave, still a bit dazed. “Oh, right. See ya.”

Though just before you leave, you meet his gaze, adding a quick, “I’ll save you a seat in class tomorrow, yeah?”

He stills. This can’t be real. His pulse picks up again, thrumming against his ribcage.

“Y-yeah, sounds good,” he stutters, a smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll see you then.”

You resume your tour and Jisung turns to head back inside, but not without first smacking both Jaemin and Chenle with the stupid wolf head in hand. Even then, he’s undoubtedly smiling like an idiot.

So sure, while Jisung may always regret the way he met you, he can’t really say he’d change a single thing about it either.

After all, it brought him to you.

[fullofgutsndopamine]

What’re You After (Some Sort Of Disaster)

previous more

or: you and hasan are rivals for trivia night. Until one day, you come up with a plan.

TW/ cursing, drinking, dick jokes.

yes my trivia team did lose to this question last week and yes, i’m still mad about it

Sarah slams her elephant down with such force that you worry the cheap dollar tree glass elephant will break and send you all on another trip to muitlple stores for a new good luck charm.

it wouldn’t be the first time.

You groan and crumble up the paper and throw it in the middle of the table into a half eaten plate of french fries.

Annie speaks first, “what kind of fucking nerds don’t know stranger things is a tv show set in the 80’s but does know the year our town was founded in.”

“they have to be cheating,” sarah says, “there’s just no way.”

“you all are bitching but you aren’t the asshole who has to go get a drink with our literal enemies.” you groan, rubbing your temple, a headache on the horizon.

Annie, “i’ll buy your drink, at least. and if he’s a gentleman, he’ll buy you another one. Make it a little less painful. think of it as a mission for us, y’know? to get more intel.”

“you can take my elephant for good luck!” Sarah smiles and takes your hand, presses it gently into the middle of your palm like it’s some family heirloom passed on and on.

“Good luck won’t help if he’s a serial killer.” you grumble, turning in your seat to look at his table again, a final glare, “or a dick.”

“which one is the worst, though?” Annie indulges as she digs through her purse.

you’re half listening.

hasan is the odd one out of the group, you see this now.

while the rest of the group is hugging, shoulders touching, heads pulled in close, he stands just outside the circle.

you wouldn’t be able to see it if you weren’t looking directly for it, but something about it makes you think of him in middle school, a mop of messy, curly hair on top of his head, large crooked glasses on the brim of his nose-telling these random facts he has to other class mates so excitedly through broken teeth and then rolling their eyes or ignoring him is so vivid in your head you have to turn away before you start feeling bad for him or something.

“what if,” you finally hear Sarah’s voice again, “you end up having an amazing first date and this is the story we end up telling your children.”

she giggles and Annie laughs so hard people crane their neck to look.

“he wishes,” you snort, “he’s going to be pretentious, i can already tell.”

“He’s on his way,” Sarah points her chin up at him, “remember: her all the information out of him you can-“

“and call us as soon as it’s over-“ Annie adds, and Sarah interrupts her again, a never ending thing, “and turn your location on so we know where to look for your body at!”

you groan, taking your phone out to do so, just as hasan appears at your side.

“Well, it was a good effort today, guys.” he smiles as he rests his hands on the table, “i had no idea that song was from a theme song-“

“of course you didn’t.” Annie huffs under her breath, an eye roll.

“sorry, what was that?” he says it with such a genuine smile and lean in you half believe him until you see the smirk on his lips.

“N-nothing. We best be going,” Annie stands, pulls Sarah up, “You have drinks to get anyways. we lost, and all. you two have fun and be safe!” and she’s pulling her out so quick Sarah barely has time to grab her purse as she’s yelling over her shoulder: “don’t do anything we wouldn’t do!”

you groan and he turns just in time to see your red face.

“one drink,” he smiles, “c’mon. that’s it, i won’t make it too painful. i promise.” and he holds out his pinky in the air, actually waits for you to hook yours around his and shake.

“lead the way.” he smiles and acts like he doesn’t see your red face as you lead out of the room and weave in and out of people.

for a second, you think you lost him. he’s so fucking tall it’s hard to lose him, and he weaves in and out to the bar with you with such practiced ease, his hand hovers over the small of your back as you get to the bar, order your drink, add a casual: “and whatever he wants.”

he takes it well, leans in with an eye roll to the bartender and orders, slides him his debit card so quickly it’s hard to see for a second as he slides into the seat next to you.

“you bastard,” you gasp, “i’m suppose to buy your drink.”

he laughs, “it feels wrong making you buy my drink after losing too. like adding salt to a wound or something.”

you sigh, and he cuts you off before you can speak again, a gentle elbow to your arm, “you all did much better this game. it was close.”

“you’re just saying that.” you huff.

“so what if i am?” he teases back, “it doesn’t matter. besides, only nerds know what year the town was founded in. you all probably had much better to do than look into the towns history.”

something about that borders on sad, leaves a bad taste in your mouth like you want him to elaborate, you wonder how many nights he spent alone, books his only companion, finding solace or some sense of community into looking at the towns history-

“if you tell me you’re wearing an ear piece or you have an inside guy, i promise i won’t tell my friends.”

it’s half a joke, and you say it with a smile in hopes he knows and it earns a laugh out of him, one you haven’t heard before, loud and happy and free as he throws his head back and claps.

when he sits up straight he leans in closer to you, and you can smell his cologne, or maybe his aftershave, but you refuse to let yourself think too much on it, and he moves his curly hair behind both of his ears theatrically, “no ear pierce, i’m afraid. just a kid who spent a lot of time in libraries.”

“not the sob story,” you half tease with a groan as a beer is placed in your hands, “i’m not nearly drunk enough. if you start crying, i’ll start crying. and fair warning, i’m a crying drunk.”

he snorts as he lifts the lip of the beer bottle to his lips, lets it rest momentarily, “noted. i’ll cut you off far before then, i promise.”

you snort back, hold your bottle in the air: “to your win.”

a smirk finds it’s way on his lips, “to new friendship,” and before you can say anything back he clinks his glass with yours gently and downs it.

“c’mon,” you finally say after the burn of the alcohol settles in your chest, “i know a quieter place.”

“lead the way.” he smiles back, offers his hand and you roll your eyes back at him but your hand finds it’s way on top of his, gently cupping around his and you pull him through the crowd.

[possessedbyforcesunknown]

My Favourite Jooster Fics

Bertie's Blog (ongoing series)

The writing is so charming and whimsical. I've never read a Wodehouse story but I assume that if he wrote Bertie as a modern-day blogger he would write exactly like this. It gave me some Bridget Jones' Diary vibes if Bridget Jones was a gay man in his twenties with a career in blogging (influencing?). I just love picturing a cute blond Bertie and his tall, clever, solicitor boyfriend. They even have a meet-cute!

2. Refused Entry (probably abandoned)

(TW: sexual assault) Begging the author to release chapter 5 because this is just one of the best stories I have ever read. So much potential. Bertie catches the eye of a perverted male OC and Jeeves' protective side comes out. POV alternates between the OC and Bertie—their inner monologues are great. I just love reading about Jeeves from another character's perspective.

3. The Pianist (last updated Feb 2023)

Long fic about Bertie and Jeeves' paths crossing in different circumstances starting from childhood. Slow burn. Literally 'invisible string' coded.

4. My Man Wooster (ongoing series)

I can't wait to read the fourth fic!! Literally everything you want for a role swap, featuring Bertie as England's worst valet and Jeeves as the Olivia Pope of 1930s London. I need them to get together so badly!! There are also hints as to why Bertie has fallen so far from high society and my boy is going THROUGH it.

5. Something of Vengeance (15/15 chapters, Sherlock Holmes crossover)

The romance isn't very direct but it's still one of my favourite stories. Interesting plot and seeing old Johnlock react to oftentimes air-headed but always kind-hearted Bertie is so cute. I need to reread this soon!!

6. All's Well That Ends Well (4/4 chapters, Completed)

I'm a sucker for anything ABO. A classic 'Bertie gets himself into trouble and Jeeves saves the day' story. Jeeves really is a saint for having so much self-control because there are quite a few romance tropes like accidental lap-sitting. It just tickles my brain.

7. The Yaxley Affair (one-shot)

I was hesitant to read this because it's a crossover with The Man from UNCLE but I'm so glad I did. It's quite a long story at 57k words (novella-length) but very worth the read. The older, 'established relationship' version of Bertie (now Lord Yaxley) and Jeeves are perfectly-written. It's like Ilya and Napoleon are stuck in a generic spy thriller but they're constantly in disbelief at how Jooster don't follow the 'norm' and still survive. (Do you know what I mean?) The author (Mice) has also written a number of great fics in this fandom.

8. Jeeves and the Best Laid Schemes (6/6 chapters)

I haven't read a lot of stories from Jeeves' perspective. In this fic, Jeeves is trying to make Bertie take a hint about his true feelings but he keeps getting sidelined by other characters. I love it when Jeeves is the one who falls first.

9. Jeeves in the Shower (one-shot, E)

Short and sweet. I just love it when Character A finds Character B taking a shower and they proceed to have sex.

10. Jeeves and the Gadsby Filly (one-shot)

Bertie in drag meets Jeeves in a night club and are drawn together. Don't know how else to describe it but fluffy and cute.

11. Totleigh Academy (3/3 chapters)

I'm a reader of simple tastes. I will always click on a high school AU (which are hit or miss). This is a hit!! Teenage Jooster dynamic is just lovely.

Final Note: There are probably more fics out there because the writers in this fandom are so good at writing in this sort of Wodehousian style. They capture Bertie's voice so well and the dialogue in some stories is just sparkling!! I would recommend the entire catalogue of fics on AO3 tbh.

[twincaptains]

Obsequium: Part I: Chapter Two - Dipper's September

TITLE: Obsequium Part I: Chapter Two: Dipper’s September PAIRINGS:  Dipford (Ford x Dipper), Bipford, (Bipper x Ford), regular Billford (Bill x Ford) Pinecest (Dipper x Mabel), Stancest, (Stan x Ford), and possibly others. SUMMARY: Dipper writes to Mabel about his experiences back in Gravity Falls. He’s learning a lot! He is also suffering. I’m not sure he’s okay, actually. NOTES: I am posting to Tumblr for now, but eventually will be cross-posting to Ao3. I am in line to get an account, and should have one by the end of the month. Warnings for this chapter – as well as for the rest of the story – under the cut!

CHAPTER WARNINGS: Drug abuse, caregiver neglect, mind control OVERALL WARNINGS: Incest, sibling incest, minor, coercive control, mind control, caregiver neglect, physical abuse, emotional abuse, sexual abuse, dubious consent (dubcon), body horror, suicidal ideation, food restriction, sleep deprivation, self-harm, drug abuse, being drugged, lost time, and I’m going to specifically going to warn for “Ford being cruel to Stanley”, because it made me upset when I wrote it so I want to warn for it. If I forgot anything, please let me know and I will fix it IMMEDIATELY. I will add more if anything else comes up.   Chapter One is here!!

-

Sunday, September 4th Heyyyy Mabel!

I'm currently trudging around the woods looking for the source of a mysterious voice. What could go wrong, right? In all seriousness this thing is getting annoying. We'd at least like to find the source, if not a way to get it to be quiet.

I miss you already. It's kinda the worst. Even worse, I can't say that out loud or I'll get a stupid lecture. I love Great Uncle Ford, I really do, but he relates to other people the way a zookeeper relates to their animals. I'm not sure he's ever actually really loved anyone or anything. If he did, he forgot how along the way. I get that he's probably done that to protect himself, but what happens when we finish our work and there's nobody there to clap? I'm slowly trying to reason with him, but he is stubborn. More stubborn than Grunkle Stan, if you can believe that.

I'm really sorry I talked your ear off about that girl I have a crush on. I just hoped you knew what I should do, because I certainly don't. It's true, I can't ever tell her. She can never ever know how I feel. I think I'd literally die, and she'd never speak to me again and I don't think I could handle that. I get to spend so little time around her already that I don't want to risk it. Still. I can't stop thinking about her, even now, in the middle of the night, in the middle of nowhere, with wet socks and a dwindling supply of trail mix. So I figured ... hey. Why not write to Mabel?

I'm going to try and be more consistent with my letters this fall. I know I tend to sink into my work and time gets away from me, but I've already sat down and marked days in my planner to set time aside to write to you. I've also set eight million reminders in my PDA. Rumor has it that we might be getting an upgraded cell tower in town soon, which means I'll FINALLY be able to TIMEFACE you like a PROPER RESIDENT of the TWENTY-FIRST CENTURY!!!!!

I hope you're doing well in school; I know that math is hard but I believe in you. You just have to try your best, that's all. Your best is always good enough.

Anyway, back to the woods. Hurrah.

Love, Dip

-

Thursday, September 8th

S'up S'up S'up Maaaaaaaaaybeeeeee

So my week has already been weird. Apparently while I was gone, Great Uncle Ford made me this wild VR helmet that's helping me get my mind off that girl I like. I have to admit, it's kinda weird? It's function and purpose is actually a little dystopian, if I'm being honest, but it's really doing the trick for me right now so I'll question it years later when I'm unpacking this portion of my life to a therapist.

It's really freed up my mind in a way that I never thought was possible. Do you remember me telling you I was stuck on some of my school stuff? I got through it this afternoon no problem, like I'd known how to do it the entire time. Breakthroughs like that feel amazing, and are why I keep trying even when I'm struggling with something. I don't know how much I can credit to the VR helmet, or how much to credit myself, but somewhere in the middle I'm really starting to get a grip over here. As long as I don't trip and fall, I should be golden.

Bill's influence is still all over the place. I really hate it. I have tried, time and time again, to talk to Great Uncle Ford about my experiences with Bill and how they've messed me up, but he doesn't really seem interested. Or rather, it makes him actively uncomfortable. I don't know what he's hiding about his relationship with Bill, but it makes him want to throw up. I don't know who he thinks he's fooling, but it’s kinda obvious, right? Am I imagining things? They had a thing, right? Why wouldn't he want me to know that? We also had a thing ... sorta ... it's not like I wouldn't understand??? He just doesn't want to tell me too much. He doesn’t trust me.

Why not??????

I've worked insanely hard to prove myself and even now he still keeps me juuuust outside of the loop. It's really starting to grind my gears, I'm almost an adult and I should be treated like one. I'll just keep being a Good Little Assistant until he lets me inside of his head. Things will only improve from there.

I think I'm gonna try and sneak a nap. I'm weirdly tired lately, maybe it's the light changing.

Love, Dip

-

Monday, September 12th

Yo! Mabel!

I'm sinking my teeth into some new subjects for school and I'm having a really great time with it so far! I get to make three-dimensional models that have hidden fourth, fifth, and sixth dimensional sides -- it's absolutely wild and I cannot wait to start arranging my first array. You know how I feel about complex shapes, I'm going to have an amazing time with this.

Things with hidden dimensions are just so cool, Mabel. I think you'd really like them, because they're so beautiful -- like genuinely pretty. They remind me of how you doodle in your notebooks, especially in the margins. Can you doodle in the margins of your next reply a bit? Dumb thing to ask, I know, but I miss them. I even miss them showing up in MY notebooks. I'm sorry if I ever yelled at you for doing that.

To answer your questions about the VR Helmet: 1. It's called the OBSEC... bunchanumbers. Nothing cool. 2. I have no idea how it works, I just know what it does. 3. What it does is kinda really embarrassing, so I'm gonna try and do my best to get my point across without passing out or throwing this letter in the garbage. Basically, it lets you sorta play through little... scenarios, anything you could think of, and along with that comes a certain level of .... biochemical involvement. That is to say, your brain pumps a bunch of feel-good chemicals into your bloodstream because it thinks you're doing something fun -- even though you're really not! This is helping me become more focused and less distracted by my teenaged-boyness. Obviously, given my performance at school lately. Feels like I'm cheating the system somehow??? But I think that's the entire point.

One more thing: Have you been calling Grunkle Stan at all? He seems really, really lonely. Worse than usual. He's been leaving Great Uncle Ford messages on his answering machine this whole time, but in the last few months he's gone from calling a few times a week, to calling every day, sometimes twice. Great Uncle Ford won't even listen to the messages, he makes me delete them for him. Playing armchair psych here; I think he feels kinda bad about what a jerk he's being, but isn't ready to admit that yet. Hearing Stan's voice, and knowing that Stan refuses to just ... hate him the way Great Uncle Ford wants him to ... it's starting to get to him. I see cracks like that here and there, which is why I'm not giving up hope that they can maybe patch things up someday. I think Great Uncle Ford needs to figure out that he can trust us, and that he'll be safe here if he does.

Anyway. Miss you, love you ... all that stuff.

Love, Dip

-

Thursday, September 15th

Mabel

I wanna die right now. My unyeilding rage won't allow it.

I was really getting into my coursework, and I asked Great Uncle Ford if he had anything to keep me up a bit longer because I felt like I was close to figuring something out and didn't want to lose it if I went to bed. I see him take stuff all the time, and he had no qualms about handing me ... something.

What I expected was Adderall. Or at least, something LIKE that, you know?? I took those for years! They caused more problems than they solved, sure, but that was because I was taking them long-term. This was supposed to be a one-off thing, a normal all-nighter.

It was not like that. It was not like that at all.

Worst anxiety attack of my life. I don't have the capacity to calculate exactly how long I was awake? But it was too long, and I'm mad that I'm awake right now.

The worst part about all of this? Great Uncle Ford acted like this was somehow MY fault. Like I'm some kind of wimp for reacting badly to mystery space drugs. Like I lied to him about what I could tolerate, or something. He just stood there and huffed at me, shaking his head and asking me "Are you done?" about every 15 minutes.

I'm currently not speaking to him. At least not today. Maybe not tomorrow, either. He resents that I'm angry at him for not giving me any type of warning about what that drug was about to do to me, I assumed I was about to become awake and alert -- not achieve nirvana by being fired out of a canon at mach fuck straight into a glass wall. Very annoyed. Very annoyed that he's acting this way.

I think I'm going to have to get him back for this, somehow. I'll need to bide my time, but he'll regret the way he tutted at me like I was some kind of preschooler throwing a tantrum.

Love, Dip

-

Sunday, September 18th

-Maybee Baby- Ms. Mabel Mack,

Got a little sick and tired of the mood in the house being so chilly, so I offered an olive branch of sorts: using my audio equipment to try and capture those whispers we keep hearing. Great Uncle Ford said we should go out looking for them (I think he was just hoping to change the subject), and I countered with staying near the house and using my stuff to make sure we're hearing what we think we're hearing.

I was right, we didn't need to go out in the woods. We heard a lot last night, and I definitely got some on my recorders. Enough, in fact, that it was worth coming out for a second night. That's what I'm doing now, well, that and writing to you.

The whispers are making me uneasy, but in a way that makes me want to keep pursuing them, you know? I feel like that once I figure them out, a lot of other things will start to make sense. Not exactly THE answers I'm looking for, but the thing that's going to set me on the path that takes me to them. For the time being I'm grateful they've been getting us out of the house. I spent so much of the summer inside and underground. You saw me! Was I the crimson adonis I usually am? No. Pale as dough. And I'm only going to get paler as winter creeps in. I may be translucent by Christmas.

You said you've been e-mailing some old friends? Heard back from anyone? I sometimes run into people when I go into town, but nobody seems to want to talk to me. I think they're mad, and I guess they have a right to be, but it really reinforces how alone I am out here. I honestly thought it would take me less than a year to get Great Uncle Ford to see the light and reconcile with Grunkle Stan.

I really miss you.

Love,

   D I      P -

Tuesday, September 20th

Mabel

I'm so fucking angry right now that I want to scream. Grateful for the Screaming Closet Great Uncle Ford installed the first summer we were here, I'll tell you that much. I had to try and keep calm and be reasonable so that I didn't explode, WHICH WAS THE WORST.

UGH.

Oh. My god.

I caught him researching restraining orders. You can guess why, and for who. I don't even want to put it in writing because it's just going to make me angry all over again. I can't fucking believe him.

I don't know what it is, but he seems extra moody and distant lately -- and get this, he accuses me of the same thing. Yeah, you know what? I AM a little peevish. Miffed, even. And lately he's doing and saying things that make me not want to be around him, so I've been distant. I also have a lot on my mind that has nothing to do with anything in particular, but it's taking up time and space so I'm a little short on change for the Putting Up With His Bullshit Express.

As if that weren't enough, guess who's analyzing ALL of the audio we recorded over the weekend by himself? I had three devices running for almost 20 hours total over two days. Ghost Hunter Plumbers don't have to work under these conditions. Neither do the guys from Dudebro Ghost Show. He could very easily help but he is choosing not to, and I think that's what makes me the maddest, out of all of it.

He isn't great with computers? Not hopeless, but very rigid and unwilling to exit his comfort zone, which is a weird combination of things we haven't done in 30 years and things we won't be doing for another 200. I don't think my Fruitbook would be that hard to figure out, they're made to be intuitive, but what's intuitive for everyone else generally isn't for Great Uncle Ford. I think he gets embarrassed about that and would rather pretend it's beneath him than reveal he's bad at it.

Lots to think about. Aiee.

Love, Dip

-

Thursday, September 22nd

Mabelfish,

I'm doing a lot better, thanks. Especially since someone sent me a five pound bag of blue raspberry BubbHeddz.

Thank you, by the way.

I'm finishing up my analysis of all that audio I recorded, and I wish I could say I felt good about it. There is a message buried in the sounds we've been hearing, flipped and reversed -- so that we'd have to work to find it. The weirdest part is that I know, deep down inside, that this message isn't for me. It's for Great Uncle Ford.

"You'll trip and fall right in to me."

Is this why he's been acting weird lately? Is he at risk of a Bill relapse? I dunno. I almost don't want to tell him, but I know I should. Who knows, maybe this will shift his focus away from being mean to Grunkle Stan and back to being mean to Bill.

I'm gonna sleep on these findings and see how they feel in the morning.

Love, Dip

-

Monday, September 26th

Mabes,

I went a little longer than I usually like to without writing, but I was on a roll with my schoolwork. I haven't felt that 'in-the-zone' in a REALLY long time. Up until the end of last year, I hadn't really had much trouble with anything Great Uncle Ford threw at me. These last few subjects though, woof. I know they're going to be important later on, at least -- that's what Great Uncle Ford says, and I kinda have to trust him on that.

Shame that trusting him is harder and harder to do lately, but what can you do?

In addition to advancing my studies, we had to do some cleanup around the property. It's funny, I used to hate doing stuff like that, but I had a great time being outside and getting fresh air. I still ache in places I didn't even know it was possible to ache, but it's a GOOD ache, one that accomplished something. It certainly keeps my body from acting in ways I don't want it to.

Not that that's a problem I usually have! My body is definitely fine and I am in complete control of it at all times. But between my sleep being all weird and that pill I took earlier this month, I feel a little less than square sometimes. I'd like to say stress is also a factor, but with the OBSEC-8177 I'm not really experiencing a whole lot of stress. When I do, it's temporary, and usually Great Uncle Ford's fault.

I think you'd like the OBSEC-8177 a lot. If you're ever allowed to visit here you can give it a try. I doubt Great Uncle Ford would let me take something like this out of the house, so you'd have to come here. We should figure out a way to make that happen.

Love, Diiip

-

Thursday, September 29th

Maybe it's Mabel,

Against my better judgement, I'm sitting here decoding more audio. Great Uncle Ford grabbed my recording devices and started rolling when I stepped inside for a little bit and, unfortunately, he caught some things.

More backmasked talking, and it makes me feel kinda gross. It's nothing particularly threatening, though definitely threatening, it's just layered with a certain level of ... familiarity, I'll call it. It kinda comes off as flirty?? But that doesn't seem right, does it? Maybe I can somehow regain access to my e-mail and I can send you these clips so you can see what I mean.

It is 100% Bill, by the way. It wouldn't be the first time we've received weird little voice notes from him, but these are different than anything we've encountered in the past. Real "the call is coming from inside the house" vibes: "Don't be so sure." and "I'm closer than you think." Personally, I think we should stop engaging ... but Bill is making that hard. I have found that vocally acknowledging these noises makes them quiet down for a bit, but the longer you go without confronting them the louder they become. I think we should probably try and figure out a way to fortify the house a bit better? Hard to bring that kind of thing up, because Great Uncle Ford gets really tetchy if you imply something he's done isn't good enough.

Can it be Thanksgiving yet?

Love, Dip

[mitsua]

HELLO<3 I hope you are having a great day/night and feeling awesome♡♡

Today's my birthday! So is it okay if you wrote a short fic how the birthday celebration goes for F!Reader, the brothers along with the other characters in the game included? TYSM IN ADVANCE 🤍

THANK YOUUU!! AAAH I'M SO HAPPY FOR YOUUUU!! Happy birthdayyyy!! Hope I'm not getting too late haha

Hope you like it, a little present for you it is! <3

Birthday party for you

Warnings: none Genre: fluff & comfort

Series: Obey me! SWD? Pairing: MC × OM characters

MC's . . . FEM! Words' count: 0.64k

"Favorite food?" "Ready" "Snacks?" "Ready." "Presents?" "Ready." "Decorations?" "Ready." "Birthday hats?" "...do we really need to wear them?" Leviathan asked ashamed to use something so...weird? It seemed pointless to him if everything around the living room literally had printed, pasted or decorated with big letter saying 'Happy Birthday MC'.

"Yes! I've watched all about human birthday parties and this were mentioned a lot, so shut it!" Asmodeous argued with his older brother, punching him jokingly but hurting the purple haired one truly.

"Lights off! I told Simeon to bring her here after classes, which is anytime by now" Satan ordered to Mammon, who was the one closest in charge of the music and lighting.

"Yeah yeah, there." He mumbled grumpily. You see, Mammon had tried his best to convince his brothers to be the one to get you from school to this surprise party—but just as they know him, he'd get distracted on his way here and get you anywhere but the HoL—which is why he was in such mood.

After some minutes waiting for the door to open by Lucifer, who'd been the one leading the group of angels, humans and demons to the HoL, finally the clacking and struggling of the keys fitting opening the door were heard—just as Belphegor whisper-shouted to his twin to leave the cake alone.

This of course got the rest of the brothers scared as to Beel's uncontrollable hunger hitting right on the worst moment.

"So why are ya'll accompanying us to the HoL today?" You asked ignorant of the reason.

They all exchanged glances and a couple started laughing awkwardly, only feeding your curiosity and making you tilt your head in confusion, melting some hearts until Lucifer deigned to respond, "I thought it'd be a great idea to have them come for food here today, as I've put my brothers in charge of cleaning the whole house after Beel's last rampage, I thought they could see how impeccable they've left it."

To this you giggled, it seemed like valid argument since you were present the day Beel had ran out of food because a couple of the brothers hadn't read the labeled tuppers designed for each of them and had accidentally eaten everything at the end. 'Oh, how is it that they hadn't given Lucifer grey hairs yet? ...maybe he tinted his hair in secret?'

As you got lost on your thoughts, the oldest brother opened the door fully with a light push-party poppers going off and tons of colorful lights turned on, the six missing brothers coming out of their hidings holding different items. Mammon holding a headset to give off the whole 'DJ outfit', Leviathan had a couple of gift boxes, Asmodeous was holding his phone which you supposed was recording, and Belphegor was holding Beel back from the table.

Satan was the first to come closer to you and kiss your hand gently, "happy birthday dear."

Soon enough everyone came inside and Leviathan got on a fight with Mammon to put the best playlist for the party, Luke still hugged you tightly while smiling brightly to you, congratulating you endlessly.

Solomon made a portal where many gift boxes and bags were dropped from—tagged with the names of Lord Diavolo, Barbatos, Simeon and himself.

You got really emotional with the demons', angels' and human's attention towards your special day, making you spill a couple of tears when they finished half singing-half reading the happy birthday song to you and telling you to blow the cake's candles before Beelzebub did it—making all of them to worry as if you did not like their singing or what had happened.

"I've got it, but I'll wish for a little something else" you confessed grinning, returning to your normal carefree and jovial self.

'I wish to celebrate many birthdays like this in the future.'

Hope you've had a beautiful and treasurable day!

All writings' rights reserved © 2024 Mitsua. (Credit to the respective owners of the pictures and tagged anime character.) ⌇ my navigation!

[oddygaul]

Quick Hits #3 - Wendell & Wild, Triangle, Summertime Rendering

Wendell & Wild

Boy, what a weird movie. Look, it’s gorgeous, the animation was incredible, great character designs, the soundtrack fucking rules.

But there’s just so much going on here that it feels overstuffed. It’s like Wendell & Wild has 3 or 4 different A plots that they tried to shove into one movie, and the result is that none of the individual arcs feel fully cooked to me. There’s movies that handle this well, with certain elements left more subsidiary and subtle worldbuilding filling in the blanks, but that wasn’t that – there’s just straight up not enough screentime for all these different plots to land.

this was too funny. also I really love the flat, stylized faces W&W have in the underworld

Wendell & Wild themselves are charming, but their world is left fairly unclear – is that all of hell, or is it really just a roadside attraction they want to give a fresh coat of paint? Also, why are the humans so excited that the pair gets to renovate their torture chamber at the end? Are we just that supportive of our friend’s goals? Manberg and Helley were fully baffling, and we never seemed to get much of an explanation for how the two met, the origin of Helley’s powers, or why all the faculty seem to see her shadow walking around the school & not care one bit. While the prison folks are sufficiently evil, and we certainly see them killing off competitors or obstacles to their plans, it’s weird that we never see any of their prisons. It's such a missed opportunity for a show don’t tell moment – instead, Siobhan literally explains it to the viewer with a diagram. Similarly, Kat’s struggles in the foster system seem weirdly passed over. The villain’s schemes and the (intended) themes of the movie are meant to be about a corrupt criminal justice system and the school-to-prison pipeline, but all we really get to see is a 10-second flashback giving us the roughest outline of what happened to her. Hell, more time is spent on the city council vote getting rigged than is spent on the actual justice system.

honestly one of the hardest character feats I've ever seen

I dunno, I’m excited to rewatch this one day and maybe gel with it more… on first blush it just came across overwhelming and slapdash structurally.

Triangle

Man, worst first date ever.

This one really came around for me; I was pretty burnt out with the loops on the boat, but as soon as Jess makes it back to the mainland, holy shit… what a flawless final act. The way the conclusion immediately ties together all of the unanswered questions that have been stewing in your mind since the beginning, the immediate perspective shift we get on Jess as a character, the simple confidence of straight up repeating all the shots from the first act, and their totally different meaning now that we know the context… good shit.

It makes Jess a much more interesting, layered character: one that doesn’t fall neatly under categories of good or bad, just a flawed, stressed-out mother who made one mistake too many, unable to accept that it’ll be her final legacy and pass on. We see her good sides, her determination, her regret for her mistakes, but we also see the darker side in her temper and quickness to violence. Truly, as the movie alludes to many times, a modern Greek tragedy with a deeply flawed hero.

Hey, why was Heather in this movie, though?

Summer Time Rendering

I noped outta this one pretty quick. Things were already looking dicey when we got both a classic anime Oops Accidentally Bumped My Whole Face Into Your Boobs and a gratuitous panty shot by minute 3, and then it turns out this is a time loop story, and those are our time loop building block events, meaning every loop will start with the boob thing. Then, in loop #3, MC prevents his friend from crashing her bike – the event that leads to the panty shot – and we get the exact same panty shot anyway from her diving into the water?? nah fuck off

Anyway, normally I don’t record any thoughts for things I drop, but I kinda just wanted an excuse to post this exchange lol

[aloneinthehellfire]

Senior Prom

Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Masterlist

Summary: 20th April 1985 was the scariest night of Steve Harrington’s life. He may have battled with demodogs and abusive step-brothers, but the Senior Prom would really put his nerves to the test; he was about to confess his feelings to a girl he had taken for granted for too long.

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: swearing, fluff fluffity fluff

[A/N: i created something that wasn't angsty!!!! yay me! also i literally came up with this after watching a show where they had prom and i was like yeah, fuck it, steve x reader moments]

set between ST2 and ST3

SENIOR PROM

Steve had been looking forward to graduation for years.

He always wanted to prove himself, make himself proud rather than be awarded by the praise of his parents. So he made a name of himself. ‘King Steve’, they called him. It was fitting too, considering his running for Prom King. But people always told him high school wouldn’t last forever, that it wasn’t all about popularity. And by ‘people’, he meant you.

You were the girl next door, literally. The fact that your family was living next to the Harrington household proved to be one of the greatest successes of Steve’s life. He practically grew up with you, both of you constantly sneaking into the other’s bedrooms whenever you had to tell eachother something. You kept him grounded, reminding him that superficial things won’t bring him happiness in the end. Even when Steve fell into the wrong group of friends, you stuck by him.

Even now, as Steve struggles to perfect his bow tie, he knows you are just a window away from helping him.

With a sigh, he shoves the fabric into his pocket, locking his bedroom door and snapping the window open. He can see the faint glow of your bedside lamp lighting the room, practically already smelling the perfume you couldn’t resist. Perfume he couldn’t resist.

You had been his best friend for as long as he could remember, and Steve only just recently realised how grateful he was to have you. And that those feelings of friendship were something much more than he could ever admit to himself.

Senior year had proven to be his worst. His grades dropped, his girlfriend left him for another guy. And yet, it was somehow his best. He may not have gotten into colleges of his dreams, but he certainly found the girl of them. All he needed was a giant knock to the head to see that she had been stood in front of him the entire time.

You were fiddling with your earrings when you hear the faint tap of glass, quickly setting down your mother’s sparkles she insisted you borrow for tonight.

Picking up the bottom of your dress, you move towards the window with an amused frown and let go of the fabric to pull away the curtains, revealing a grinning Steve Harrington looking back at you.

Your heart skipped a beat as you unlock the window and slide it open for him, stepping back as he climbed through effortlessly. You had no reason to feel this giddy about it; he’s been climbing through your window for years. But every time he has, you couldn’t help the butterflies in your stomach just to see him. That’s what happens when you’ve been in love with your best friend for all those years now.

“Harrington.” You smile, crossing your arms as he brushes down his suit. He looked great in it, like he always did.

“So,” Steve says, fishing the bow tie out of his pocket as he turned around, “It turns out these things are evil…”

His voice trails as soon as he sees you. Your hair was twisted back except for the few curled strands that hung beside your delicate features. The emerald green dress shaped your body perfectly, dropping all the way down to the floor. It was a simple design, but you made it look so elegant. And the gold necklace that hung from your neck brought it all together; a locket that an 11 year old Steve gifted you all that time ago.

“Steve?” You wave your hands around and he finally snaps out of his trance, clearing his throat.

“Sorry, what?”

You let out a small laugh, dimpling your cheeks, and walk over to him to gently take the bow tie out of his hands. “I’m guessing you need help with this?”

“Y-yeah. Yeah.” Steve nods and he straightens himself, allowing you to slip the fabric around his neck and tie it much better than he ever could.

“You know, you should really learn how to tie one of these things.” You comment with a raised eyebrow, eyes flickering from the bow to his face.

“What if I just prefer knowing you’re there to save me?” He offers and he swears he notices just the faintest tint of blush on your skin.

Patting his chest, you look up with a grin. “All done.”

“Thanks.” He chuckles, looking down at you. Considering how close you were, he was sure he could feel the warmth of your breath, the rise and fall of your chest against his. He had to admit, he liked having you this close.

But, to his dismay, you clear your throat and move back over to your vanity mirror, picking up the earrings you left behind.

Whilst it was true that you were in love with the boy, you had made a promise to yourself years ago. Nancy Wheeler was one of your closest friends. You remembered the sick feeling you had in your stomach when Nancy shared her interest in Steve, but you had said nothing. You watched as Steve grew closer with her. You watched when they made things official, constantly hanging around eachother as much as they could. You even watched when they broke up at the Byers house. And through out all of it, you knew you’d only ever be a friend to him.

You had to protect your heart. And you did that by by being a good friend; to him, and to Nancy.

“Hey, you never told me who you’re bringing.” You say, putting your earrings in and watching him through the mirror.

You saw him shift uncomfortably before shaking his head. “Huh?”

“Who you’re bringing?” You repeat, and when you have no answer, you turn around and lean against the table, tilting your head. “Your date to prom?”

“Oh, that.” He frowns, nodding. “Yeah… about that-”

“You don’t have a date?” You widen your eyes and he whips his head to you, scrunching his face. “Steve!”

“I know, I know.” He dismisses, pacing the room. “I hadn’t really thought about it.”

“Steve Harrington didn’t think about his prom date?” You say doubtfully, crossing your arms. “Steve, you’ve been planning this night since we were freshmen.”

He stops his movements, closing his eyes and nodding. “Yeah, well, it all kinda fell apart when we started chasing monsters from another dimension.”

Steve sighs, sitting on the edge of your bed. He would never forget the day he found out about the Upside Down. You had dragged him to the Byers household to apologise to Jonathan after their fight, telling him that it was the first step to being a better boyfriend to Nancy. And you were right, as usual. But he had never expected to fight a Demogorgon that night, let alone watch you set the creature on fire.

He hated that you were dragged into this, too. The fight with Billy, the demodogs and the tunnels. All of that could have just been his burden to handle if he had made you stay home that night.

“Hey, it’s fine.” You try, crouching in front of him and taking his hands into yours. When your eyes finally find his, you smile. “No one’s gonna give a shit if you have a date or not.”

Steve simply squints his eyes at you in disbelief and you grimace.

“Yeah, okay, maybe they will but they’re just assholes.” You say and he laughs at your comment, “This is one dance. And then we never have to see any of them ever again.”

“In Hawkins?” Steve raises an eyebrow and you nod slowly.

“Okay, yeah- Look, I’m trying to be comforting here, take it or leave it.” You laugh and he surrenders.

“You’re right, thank you.” He smiles and you hum happily, standing back up. He watches as you made the final adjustments to your look in the mirror, “What about you? Is Dan Shelter still picking you up?”

You make a face at his reflection, earning a grin. “Stop saying his name like that. And, uh…”

You slowly turn around, avoiding his eyes and he frowns.

“Y/n?” He tries and you take a breath.

“No.” You simply say, turning back around and rooting for lip gloss in your top drawer.

“No?” Steve repeats, frowning. “What does that mean?”

“It means…” You begin, swiping the gloss on your bottom lip, “He found some sophmore to take instead.”

“Are you serious?” Steve couldn’t believe it. Dan Shelter had been constantly nagging him for your number, much to Steve’s dislike. That guy should be lucky to even breathe the same air as you.

“Uh oh, I know that look.” You smile, staring at the boy with furrowed brows, almost a murderous glint in his eye. He was always a little protective of you, something you always loved. “I’m a big girl, Steve. I’m fine.”

“He’s an asshole.” Steve comments and you smile at that. “Like a huge asshole. Like if there was a contest for best prom date, he’d lose cause he’s an asshole.”

“Okay, I get it.” You giggle, turning back around and stuffing your lip gloss into the purse you were taking. “So… neither of us have dates, then.”

“This is true.” He nods and you let out a groan, flopping on the bed beside him as he laughs.

“We’re so pathetic.” You mumble into the sheets and he lays back to meet your eyes.

“I thought no one was gonna give a shit.” He mocks your earlier words and you bat him away.

“Don’t use my words against me, it’s cruel.” You chuckle, sitting back up and Steve frowns at you before sorting out the curled strands clung to your glossed lips.

“I have an idea.” He shares as he pulls away the last strand and you patiently wait for him to continue. “We go together.”

You blink at him. “Go where?”

“Um… prom?” He says like it’s the most obvious thing ever and your heart almost stops. You search his eyes for any kind of hint that he was joking. He had to be joking.

You let out an awkward laugh, standing back up and shaking your head. “Yeah, right. Us? Prom? Okay.”

Steve watches as you continue to laugh, fanning yourself. The way you were avoiding his eyes confused him. Surely it wasn’t that bad of an idea?

“What’s wrong with that?”

You look back at him, meeting his eyes. This boy was deadly serious and you couldn’t believe it.

“As friends?” You question and you swear you saw his face drop just a little.

Steve wanted nothing more than to take you to prom as his date. After everything you’ve been through together, he just wanted to spend one evening with you without chasing shadows and running for your life. And he wanted to tell you how he felt.

But the longer you stared at him, the harder it became to just blurt those words out.

“Y-yeah.” Steve says as casually as he can, “Yeah, as-”

He stops himself, shaking his head. He couldn’t pretend anymore.

“Actually, no.” Steve stands up, looking at you as your eyes widen in surprise.

“You… you don’t want to go to prom with me?” You ask, confused.

“What? Yeah. Wait, no, I-” Steve sighed in frustration, taking a breath. This was definitely harder than he thought. “I definitely want to go to prom with you.”

You slowly nod along to his outburst, watching as he steps closer to you. You couldn’t ignore how fast your heart was beating in your chest right now.

“I want to go to prom with you.” He continues, another step and he’s barely a breath away, gulping down his nerves. “But not as friends.”

And just like that, it felt like you were dreaming. You’d imagined prom night a million times over, and you had always assumed it would end with you holding Nancy’s purse while she danced with the boy you loved. And yet, you were wrong. You were so wrong.

“Steve-” You start but he shakes his head, grabbing your hands.

“No, I- hear me out.” He says and you shut your mouth. Steve takes a deep breath, before letting it all out. “I wasted so much time caring about what those assholes at school thought of me when I really should have been caring about what you thought. You have been my best friend for years, and I- I always took you for granted. I always wanted to be with someone that loved me for me, that didn’t expect me to be perfect. Someone… someone that just cared. And I kept searching for that person when I should have just opened my stupid eyes because you were right there the whole time.”

“What are you saying?” You ask, eyes never wavering from his. Steve could feel your grip on his hands tighten.

“I’m saying…” Steve begins with a smile, chest lighter. “I am utterly and ridiculously in love with you. And I never realised that until I finally opened my eyes.”

There’s a smile playing on your lips before you finally speak, leaning close. “Took you long enough, Harrington.”

You close the distance, catching his lips in the sweetest kiss he’s ever experienced. Every part of him felt light as he cups your face and pulls you impossibly closer. All those years finally added up to this moment, him holding you without any intent on letting go.

When you both finally pull away, you’re breathless, mind fluttering with a million questions but always settling on one; Did that really just happen?

Resting his forehead on yours, you couldn’t help the giddy smile on your face, your hands finding his once again and threading your fingers through his.

“That happened.” You comment and Steve laughs, nodding.

“Yep.”

As you stare down, your eyes drift to the watch clasped around his wrist. You think nothing of it as you stare at the clock hand until realisation hits and you pull away from him.

“We’re gonna be late!” You exclaim, running across the room to grab your heels and hastily put them on.

Steve chuckles in amusement, shoving his hands into his pockets, just watching. You were cute when you were flustered.

When you finally managed to secure the last strap, you turn around to see Steve holding out your coat for you and you smile, letting him drape it over your shoulders.

“Yes.” You say suddenly and Steve raises an eyebrow, walking with you through your house.

“I’m sorry?” He blinks, confused.

“To your prom-posal.” You smirk, taking his arm as he grins down at you, reaching for the door.

“Well, thank god or this was about to get really awkward.”

You both laugh as Steve leads you to his car, knowing that senior prom night was going down in history as the best night of your lives.