#but also not i dont mind having a higher pitched voice i just want it to sounder more gruff if that makes sense

[vykko]

heh my dysphoria is really bad for the first time in ages

how fun

i feel wong

like and idk why i feel so much now, bc like i cant get the sutpid thought of "you're just a girl"

idk i feel like talking about it, so ive realised that ive been ignoring the feelings for a while but they get worse when i do that

like idk i just feel wrong

i cant point out excalty how but like i usally dont care bout my voice or my body but it just feels wrong right now

chest feels heavy in that way where i want to disaapear

i wish i was just amab

like im want to cry i hate dysphoria bc it cuases me to dissocaite like i dont want to feel this

im not sure what to do

they didnt give me a manual

[nataliesfirefly]

You and I Walk a Fragile Line - Farleigh Start x F!Reader - Part 6

a/n: hey guys!! im so sorry this part has taken me so long! im currently on a trip so i havent had much time to write! but i hope this makes up for it, im super excited for yall to read this!!! also i think im going to plan for this series to have a few more chapters, probably max 9 or 10! i love it sm i really dont want it to end 😭 but anyways enjoyyy and comment what you think! and again i apologize if the smut is mid.. btw this is not proofread LMAO

series masterlist

playlist

word count: 4.9k words

warnings: MDNI 18+, smut, fingering, oral (f!receiving), p in v, angst, language, smoking, afab reader

You’re sitting in your bed, reading a magazine, when your flip phone rings. You lean forward to pick it up from the corner of the bed, wondering who could be calling you this late. You raise your eyebrows when you see that it’s Lola. You haven’t spoken to her since school got out. Nevertheless, you answer it and put the phone up to your ear.

“Lola! Hey,” You grin. “Oh my God, I’m so glad you picked up. I’m so bored around here,” She groans, and you smile even bigger at the sound of her voice on the other end. “Around where?” You ask curiously.

“My parents’. I have to babysit my younger sister all the time. It’s exhausting, really,” She moans. “I just want to like, go to a party or something. Honestly, I would even prefer to be going to classes right now instead of this.”

“Wow. That must mean it’s really bad then, huh?” You continue flipping through the magazine, your eyes scanning through the apparently trending fashion and makeup choices at the moment.

“Yes. Ugh. You’re at Saltburn, right?” She asks. “Yeah.” You reply.

“How’s that going?” Lola questions, and you hear another voice in the background that sounds like her, only higher-pitched. “No, I’m on the phone. Go away. Shoo,”

You try not to snicker at her shooing away her little sister. “It’s…” You trail off, trying to decide the right way to describe how the summer is going so far for you. “I don’t know. Different.”

“How so?” You pause and wonder if you should tell her what’s been going on. You decide it’s probably better not to and keep some things to yourself.

“I think it’s just cause we’re growing up. I mean, we graduate in less than two years.” You shrug and reach over to grab your glass of wine. “Oh God, don’t remind me. My parents are still asking me what my plans are,” She sighs loudly.

“I can’t believe it.” You shake your head and close the magazine, uninterested in the latest celebrity drama. An idea suddenly forms in your mind.

“Hey, the Cattons are throwing one of their big summer parties in a few days. I could invite you?” You suggest. You hear Lola gasp. “Really?! I’d love to go. I’ve heard so many stories about the Saltburn parties.” She makes it sound so dramatic, and you giggle.

“And you’d get a chance to see Felix,” You grin as you hear her jumping around. “Yeah, I would! You don’t need to convince me any further. I’ll be there,” She pauses. “Wait, but they’ll let me come, right?”

“Oh, of course. They like me a lot, so I’m sure they won’t mind.” You assure her. “Okay, perfect. Thank you so much, my love. I’ll let you get some sleep. See you soon!” She squeals excitedly and you roll your eyes with a smile as she hangs up.

You set down your phone and sigh, looking around your dim room.

You haven’t been able to get Farleigh out of your mind since your little… moment two nights ago. He’s not avoiding you, but he’s not being nice either. He’s gone back to teasing you and embarrassing you in front of the Cattons. You should’ve known that if you got too close, he’d pull away and return to his old ways.

But every little glance you two share has your stomach fluttering and your heart pounding. Every insult meant to hurt or offend you has the opposite effect. In some depraved way, you like when he degrades you. The past two nights, you’ve laid awake and stared up at the ceiling, trying to relive that night when he made you feel so good. Just the thought of him had your mind reeling. You would do anything just to feel that way again. You’re hooked.

You can’t just keep wallowing in these feelings. You want to talk to him, work things out, and go back to how they used to be a week ago. More importantly, you just want to be in his presence. It gives you some kind of thrill to be around him. It’s like a game of roulette to see which version of him you’ll get each time, and you love it. You crave his attention.

You climb off of your large bed and walk determinedly to your door, opening it quietly and sneaking down the hallway. It’s quite a long walk to Farleigh’s room, but you don’t care. You pass Felix’s room, then Venetia’s. Both of their lights are out, telling you that everyone in the house is probably asleep by now. You can only hope and pray that Farleigh isn’t.

You eventually find yourself standing in front of his room. Dim light peeks through from under his door, and you sigh with relief. He’s still awake. Your decision catches up to you and you realize how stupid it is that you’re about to knock on his door. You shake your head to clear your doubt, raising your hand and gently knocking.

You hear his bed shifting and footsteps following close after. You swallow nervously, your throat suddenly feeling dry. Your heart races with anticipation as he finally opens the door.

Fuck. He’s shirtless with only a pair of sweatpants on. Your eyes trail down subconsciously before you blink and look back up to his face. Is he wearing underwear?

“Hello,” He says, his grin foxlike. “I can’t sleep. Can we talk?” You ask, your voice shaky. You curse yourself for sounding nervous. He crosses his arms and raises his eyebrows. “Talk about what?” He questions.

You pause, unsure of what to say next. What were you going to talk about? He would deny any feelings towards you, so what was the point of even coming here?

“Just let me in, please.” You step forward and avoid his gaze. He steps to the side wordlessly, opening the door further to let you into his room.

You breathe in the familiar scent of that candle he’s always burning, and the scent of his cologne. It’s musky and spicy, with notes of vanilla. You tried to memorize it everytime you were close to him. You walk over to his bed and sit down on the edge, looking up at him as he closes the door behind him.

“Can I have a cigarette?” You ask, pointing to the pack sitting on his bedside table. He nods, and you carefully take one. He hands you the lighter.

He stares down at you as you light the cigarette, taking a drag from it. He chuckles to himself and you exhale, furrowing your eyebrows. “What’s funny?”

“You always said you hated the smell. Yet here you are, asking me for a cigarette,” He replies with a scoff. “Maybe you’re just a bad influence,” You shoot back, and his smile slightly fades.

You can see his eyes traveling down your body, lingering on your thighs and your bare legs. You had outgrown these sleep shorts, but you never cared because you figured no one would see you in them. Well, there goes that.

“Are we not going to talk about the other night?” You mutter. “What’s there to talk about?” He replies, and you roll your eyes. “Are you-” You pause and let out a frustrated breath. “Are you serious?” You exclaim angrily.

“You can’t blame it on being drunk this time, Farleigh.” You tell him, and he freezes, his gaze faltering downwards.

“Can we not talk about that? Let’s just…” He sighs with exasperation and sits next to you. You turn away from him, looking out the window. You decide not to press the issue, since it’s apparently too much for him to think about right now. Honestly, you aren’t even able to fully process what’s been going on between you two.

“Let’s just… talk,” He says finally, and you face him again, exhaling a small cloud of smoke. “Okay.” You shrug. It’s what you both do best: Talking. About anything and everything, despite the strange history of your relationship. You guessed that it was because you had known each other for so long, that it just came naturally. He’s just… real. He’s never pretending or putting on a façade, at least around you he’s not. Around the Cattons, he has to, because to them he’s just the wild child, the comedic relief, the American. You feel like you are the only one that gets to see the real Farleigh, and it feels like a privilege. But you know that’s not true, and you choose to believe it anyway.

“So… Our third year at Oxford,” Farleigh says. You let out a breath and raise your eyebrows. “Can’t believe it’s already been two years,” You both smile, thinking of all the good and bad memories you’ve made so far during your years at university.

“Can I be honest?” You ask, and he nods. “I’m scared.” You say simply. His eyebrows knit together. “Of what?” He replies. “Graduating. You know, I’ll probably go to graduate school or something, but I need to start making my own money. Get a job. Do adult things,” You sigh just at the thought of all the responsibilities. “I can’t be on a scholarship forever. Or have my parents pay forever,” You continue, shaking your head. “I’m putting them through enough as it is.”

Farleigh nods again with a look of understanding. “I might go back to the states. See my mom, maybe stay there for a while.” He says. You can’t help but feel a little sad at the thought of him being away for so long. You hate to admit it, but you would miss him.

“But we don’t have to worry about that right now. You’re too uptight. Let yourself have fun,” He nudges you softly. “I’m trying,” You mutter. “Well, you’re smoking. That’s one step closer,” He laughs a bit and you roll your eyes.

It goes quiet and you stare down into your lap. You can feel his eyes on you, and your heart begins to race with anticipation. That familiar tension returns in the air between you and Farleigh.

You look up slightly, his eyes meeting with yours. Your stomach churns as you look down to see his hand inching towards your thigh, eventually resting on top of it. “I know why you came here,” He says, his voice lowered.

You look back up to him. “What?” You whisper. “Don’t play dumb,” He shakes his head. “I’m not.” You reply, trying hard not to break the intense eye contact.

You gulp nervously and finally look away, your face giving you away and burning red. “Hmm,” He hums, his thumb brushing across your thigh. You try to distract yourself by pressing the cigarette out on the ashtray on his bedside table, watching the little flame burn out.

He gently reaches up and grabs your chin, tilting your head back towards him. He drags his thumb down your bottom lip as you stare into his eyes. He grins slightly before moving his hand to cup your cheek, leaning in closer until your noses brush together. You know you shouldn’t be doing this. You know Farleigh is emotionally unavailable and toxic, and he won’t ever discuss his feelings or yours. But you can’t help but melt into the kiss, his touch, his aura. It’s like he’s magnetic, pulling you in everytime you try to pull away.

Somehow, every single time he kisses you, it’s better than the first time. Your tongues intertwine as your lips move in a perfect rhythm while both of you fall back onto his bed clumsily. One of his hands tangles in your hair, and the one that was resting on your leg moves up to rest on your waist, his fingers caressing your bare skin due to your tank top riding up. He eventually shifts his position so that he’s on top of you, and you turn to lay on your back underneath him.

His kisses begin to move down to your jawline, then your neck. He sucks and licks your skin so cruelly, but you don’t want him to stop. You breathe in the scent of his hair, his curls tickling your face, and you can already feel yourself becoming weak again.

You feel his hands start to trail down your body, resting on your hips, as he moves down the bed and you peer down to see him looking up at you from between your legs. Feverish heat burns across your skin just at the sight of it.

“Wait, wait. I’ve never-“ You start, suddenly feeling nervous. “It’s okay,” Farleigh replies, his eyes soft and warm as he gazes up at you. “Just relax,” He murmurs, gently pulling down your shorts and panties at the same time, shuffling them off your legs.

Just relax, you think. Easier said than done. You’ve pictured this moment so many times in the past few days, and you can’t believe it’s becoming reality.

And of all the times you’ve fantasized about this, none of them could ever do Farleigh’s beauty justice. His dark eyes are shining with something of lust and hunger, his plush lips slightly parted and his shoulders broad and golden. His curly hair is only slightly wet from his shower earlier, yet still perfectly coiled.

He looks up at you, trying to convey something through his gaze. “So pretty,” He mutters, tracing a finger along your thigh. Your breath catches in your throat and you feel your stomach fluttering already.

He lifts your legs up and places them over his shoulders. Your heart pounds in anticipation and you can hear yourself breathing among the silence.

Farleigh leans down and presses a few kisses along your inner thigh, and you don’t know how much longer you can stand his teasing. You watch him gaze up at you through his lashes as he dips a finger into your wetness and you see the smirk that tugs at his lips. He raises his eyebrows at you and your face turns red. “Stop,” You cover your face with both hands, your stomach doing flips. You can’t handle how perfect he looks right now, even as he teases you for how soaked you are already.

“Hey, look at me,” He says, his deep voice vibrating against your skin. You let your hands fall back to your sides, smiling shyly. His expression turns more serious as he furrows his brows, slipping his finger inside of you. He moans before you even can, his head falling against your thigh.

That familiar stretch around his finger has your mind reeling as you throw your head back. He pulls it out and you whimper at the loss, until you feel his middle and ring finger on your clit. Your hands instinctively move to grasp the sheets as he strokes your bundle of nerves perfectly, letting your head fall back down to watch him. He continues to maintain eye contact and it makes you so weak.

Your brain almost turns to mush as you see him leaning down, his head buried between your legs. A moan louder than you intended leaves your mouth as you feel his tongue greedily licking a stripe up your pussy.

“Shit,” You huff, your chest heaving up and down. No one had ever given you head before, until now, so you didn’t really understand your girlfriends when they would tell you how amazing it felt. But now, you completely get it. His tongue moves in long, slow strokes and his pretty nose nudges perfectly against your clit.

He barely lifts his head so he can stare up at you to watch your reaction. You grind up against his face, your hand reaching down to grab a handful of his curls. He groans at the feeling before inserting a finger again, moving at the perfect pace along with his tongue. The combination is enough to make your legs shake. The lewd sounds of him lapping up your cum and both of your wanton moans echo throughout his room.

“Farleigh!” You almost scream his name before letting out a long, drawn out moan. He glances up at you once more, his pupils huge with lust. He moans against you as he absolutely devours you, adding a second finger in. His long fingers brush against that divine spot inside of you and you whimper helplessly, your other hand gripping his sheets as if it could help ground you somehow. That delicious heat builds in the base of your stomach, spreading like a fire.

“I’m gonna-“ You gasp for air, your chest heaving up and down. His eyes are half-lidded and he seems completely lost in the moment, just absolutely pussy drunk. “Let go,” He says, his voice deep and raspy.

And you do exactly that. The pleasure shoots through your veins like a drug, your grasp in his hair tightening and your hips rolling as you ride it out. You eventually come down from your high, letting your legs drop from his shoulders as you let out a shaky sigh, your heart still pounding against your ribs.

“Fuckk,” You breathe out, resting your head against the pillow. Farleigh crawls over you, leaning down to kiss you. The lower half of his face is covered in your slick, but you couldn’t care less. He kisses you passionately, desperately, groaning into your mouth. You can taste yourself on his lips and his tongue, and it just turns you on even more.

He pulls away, his lips hovering over yours. You look up at him and suddenly feel an indescribable desire wash over you as you stare into his deep brown eyes. It’s like you can’t get close enough to him, like you need more than everything he’s already given you. You want him inside of you. You want to feel every part of him. You want him to feel every part of you.

“Farleigh,” You whisper, reaching up to touch his face. “What is it?” He whispers back, lightly touching your own face.

“I want you,” You say. You don’t care how stupid you sound right now. This carnal desire has completely taken over you.

“In what way?” He replies, smirking smugly. “I think you know which way I mean,” You mutter. You don’t have time for his teasing, although you love it.

His expression softens and he seems to understand what you mean. “Please, I need you,” You can’t believe you’re begging for Farleigh of all people right now. You know you’ll be regretting it later. His eyes widen and he seems shocked by your confession.

“Far…” You whisper, tracing your finger along his lips. He opens his mouth to speak, hesitating slightly.

“Do you know what you do to me?” He asks, his voice soft. You look up at him and tilt your head. He takes your hand and guides it down below his waist while still looking down at you. You gasp softly when you feel that his dick is so hard underneath his sweatpants. It has to be painful. You slowly rub your hand against him and his eyebrows draw together as he stutters slightly, and it almost looks like he’s in pain.

“Baby-“ Farleigh whimpers. “Please,” You beg once again, and he nods, quickly taking his pants off and throwing them somewhere on the floor of his bedroom. You look down at his dick, and you have to keep your jaw from dropping.

It’s definitely the biggest you’ve seen, and although you haven’t seen many in your lifetime, you know he would be considered above average. It’s long, with a bit of girth to it, veiny and already leaking precum from the tip. You feel yourself starting to get nervous. You aren’t sure if you could even take all of it, but hell, you’re going to try. You hope he didn’t pick up on your reaction, because you know he would tease you over it.

He places his hands on either side of your head and leans down onto his elbows. He never takes his eyes off yours as he positions himself. You wrap your legs around his waist, letting your ankles rest on his back.

He slowly begins to slide in, and you grunt quietly at the pain. He goes a bit deeper before you panic and place a hand on his lower stomach, stopping him. “I can’t-“ You wince in pain.

“Yes, you can. You can take it,” He nods and brushes the side of your face with his fingers. He takes your hand off of his stomach gently and places your arm back onto the bed. You nod in an attempt to encourage yourself, gritting your teeth to withstand the pain. You reach up to his shoulders, resting your hands on his shoulder blades, trying to keep your nails from digging into his skin as you hold onto him.

“Fuck,” Farleigh grunts as your walls grip him tightly, sucking him in. Eventually he’s buried inside of you to the hilt, and you can feel every inch of him. You’re still trying to adjust to his size, and the pain is slowly subsiding as he groans and drops his head and closes his eyes. You press your hips up against his, trying to get him to start moving. “Far,” You mutter. You can tell he’s trying to hold back. He breathes heavily and opens his eyes again, gazing into yours.

“I’m ready,” You whisper. His eyebrows knit together as he rolls his hips slowly, causing your eyes to roll back and drawing a short moan out of you. He shudders, slightly pulling out of you before thrusting back in. You wonder how he’s so good at this as your nails dig crescent moons into his back with each slow thrust and roll of his hips. Your mouth falls open and you try to be quieter but it’s no use.

He buries his head into the crook of your neck, his curls tickling your face. He’s whimpering and moaning your name and other incoherent nonsense right into your ear. He sets a beautiful rhythm, his bed creaking underneath you as you sink into the plush of the mattress. You think you hear the headboard hitting the wall but you don’t care about the loud sounds you two are creating. You just don’t want this moment to end.

He looks back up to you and you can see he’s already fucked out. His eyes are even more glazed over than before and sex sweat forms on his brow. He whimpers helplessly and pants heavily. “You’re so good,” He breathes. “So, so good,” You could probably cum just from his words alone.

You let out a wanton moan as he hits that spot again, deep inside of you. “Oh, fuck!” You gasp and claw at his shoulders. He drops his head again, kissing your neck as he thrusts into you faster and deeper each time, hitting your spot over and over once he’s found it.

“Yeah, that’s it,” He groans against your neck and you feel tears brimming in your eyes. “Farleigh- It’s-“ You can’t seem to form words, your brain turned to sizzling hot liquid. “I know, I know,” He whimpers, his voice slightly higher pitched and breathless. You try to hold on longer, but you’re already coming undone as your orgasm hits you sooner than you expected. Your body stills and you clench even harder around him. He moans, that pained expression crossing his face once again. “Oh God,” He chokes out, his thrusts beginning to become less steady.

“Where should I-“ Farleigh pants. “Inside,” You tell him. You’re on birth control, but you don’t have the mental capacity to explain that to him or explain why. His hips stutter and he stiffens, finishing inside of you, the warm feeling spreading throughout your lower stomach. He collapses on top of you, his head on your chest, resting on the soft fabric of your shirt.

You’re already sleepy and physically exhausted from what just took place. You breathe in his scent one more time and let out a sigh, staring up at the ceiling and trying to process what you just did. Then he’s wrapping his arms around you gently before pulling out of you slowly. You grunt a bit, feeling a dull ache between your legs, but you can’t help but miss the feeling of him inside of you.

He adjusts the both of you so that you’re both laying on your side, allowing you to stretch out a bit and cuddle up to him, tucking your head in the crook of his neck. He holds you, and for a moment, it feels like a real relationship. Something you had never experienced. Something deep. Something real. And then you remember that it’s not. After this, he will go back to avoiding you and acting like he can’t stand you. You just wish that he would put his pride away and admit to you what he really feels. But what does he really feel? Are you stupid for thinking that there’s something here?

Farleigh strokes his fingers through your hair, brushing away some of the strands plastered onto your forehead by your sweat. He seems to notice your silence.

“You’re thinking too much,” He says, his voice beautifully hoarse. You sigh, relaxing your shoulders. “Am I?” You reply, your voice weaker than you thought it would be.

“Just sleep here tonight,” He mutters, resting his chin on top of your head. You so badly want to ask him to be serious and have an actual conversation with you about your… relationship.

“Okay… but we need to talk about this,” You respond quietly. He sighs and shifts a bit, careful not to move you too much. “We can in the morning,” He says, but you know that won’t happen. You’ll just have to settle for no answers to your questions for the time being.

You curl up closer to him and let your eyes close, breathing slowly and peacefully. “Goodnight,” You murmur. “Night,” He replies, sounding just as tired as you are. You drift off to sleep in Farleigh Start’s arms.

ONE YEAR EARLIER

You were usually on okay terms with Farleigh. But you remember exactly when the dislike turned into hatred.

It was right before end of term exams and Felix convinced you to go to the pub to blow off some steam and relax after all your revising. You reluctantly agreed, then regret your decision when you saw Farleigh and Sasha there.

It was pretty far into the evening and you were beginning to get sleepy. You had spaced out for a moment, staring out the window and watching the snow fall before you heard something that peaked your interest.

“I mean, Felix, you have got to settle down,” Farleigh chuckled and nudged Sasha, pointing his cigarette at Felix.

Felix grinned stupidly and shrugged. “Listen, mate. I’ve tried.” Some other friends of his joined in with the laughter.

You sat up and leaned forward, facing Farleigh. “You’re one to comment on relationships,” You said, raising an eyebrow. Everyone else sort of quieted down after hearing your words.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Farleigh rolled his eyes at you and Sasha just glared. “You and Sasha. You’re dysfunctional.” You responded, unafraid to challenge him.

“Excuse me?” Sasha looked at you like you just committed a hate crime. “Yeah. He cheats on you, you cheat on him, you get back together, blah blah blah.” You took a sip of your beer and shrugged. “It’s gone on for almost a year now. It’s exhausting,”

Farleigh chuckled. “Ohh, you want to come after my relationship?” He smirked as if he was cooking up a plan in his mind of how to humiliate you best.

“Well, I bet you would like everyone to know that you lost your virginity to Joshua Brown,” Farleigh said, loud enough for even people from other tables to hear. A small chorus of gasps echoed across the room.

“You’re desperate, easy, and sloppy. You take anyone who wants you. I guess that’s what happens when you get no attention before you go to college, hm?” He just kept going, and the whole room went silent

“I’ve seen you walk out of so many dorms at six in the morning, it’s insane. You can’t even keep a fucking man,” Farleigh’s tone was harsher and colder than you’d ever heard before. Felix was staring at you in shock and Sasha was giving you that judgemental look.

You looked around to see all the pairs of eyes on you. “Fucking hell, Farleigh,” Felix muttered, shaking his head at him.

You stood up and grabbed your bag hastily, storming out of the pub with tears in your eyes. Why was he such a bitch? Why did he hate you?

Your reputation was officially ruined. All that time, he never told anyone about your situation with Joshua. Until now. He was doing so well. The whole class thought you were an innocent and pure, high achieving student, and now what would they think? You wish you didn’t care so much about how others perceive you, but you do.

You hated Farleigh. You hated him for ruining your reputation and your image. It was impossible to get him back or do something worse, since basically everyone knew he was a slut. But he got praised for it.

Ever since that night at the pub, other students would look at you sideways and whisper things about you as if you couldn’t hear them.

Fuck you, Farleigh. You decided you were officially done with him and your weird friendship. Even if that meant having to avoid him at every cost.

taglist: @isla-finke-blog @ibimbogrl @drunkmysticsquirrel @alonia-olivia @novemilady @saltburnsworld @florkt @i-love-ptv

[firefly--bright]

unearthed.

jean kirstein x fem!reader, modern a.u., buzzfeed unsolved a.u.

summary ; you dont know just how many watchful souls listen to you and jean speak, waiting, watching. maybe it's just you, but the prison air feels warmer. warnings ; mentions of violence, a little horror (? literally just the tiniest bit), talks of death. cringe humor. a/n ; happy halloween my beloveds. crazy that halloween and diwali were on the same day. kinda poetic lowkey. im DEAD TIRED so ykw that means! happy fireflyfic day! (and happy diwali to those who celebrate :)) taglist ; @holding-infinity-and-a-book , @mrsnobodynobody , @hopeless-anti-romantic , @jeanscremebrulee , @berrijam , @happxme , @cherrypieyourface , @imgayandshesanime , @moonmalice , @kivernova , @potaho3frog , @xakilicious , @katestrophes , @gojo-ana , @ppushable , @zombiefiedskeivy

masterlist is in pinned post! ✿ enter my taglist! ✿

The prison wasnt eerie, which should’ve struck you as concerning. 

No, rather, the opposite, the fact that it was a little too comfortable, a little too lived-in to be considered ghostly was what you found…weird. Or maybe it was jean’s presence next to yours, the coldness of the air masked by his warmth and stolen jacket perched over your shoulders that made the air feel a little more breathable.

Connie and marco are huddled over the camera, speaking in hushed whispers - some technical jargon that your brain is too tired to recognize. 

Jean shifted from beside you, adjusting his own coat - not stolen - and thumbed the straps over his chest that snuggly held a smaller camera so it fit better over him. He cleared his throat when he caught you zoning out, “know your lines?” he asked, a prompt for you to speak your mind. 

You smiled cheekily, looking at him under the dim, sole flashlight. “By heart. Scared, jean-boy?” 

“Dont call me that on camera, please,” he says, eyes screwing shut when you shine your light straight into them. 

“Have i ever embarrassed you? You do that to yourself more than i do,” “okay that’s…intentional. It helps with the character im going for.” you snort. “Damsel in distress?” he scoffs, “i had to save you last time, remember?” “that was just an excuse for you to hold my hand, you can admit it. The cameras arent rolling yet,” you tease, bumping your shoe with his worn-out converses. He lets you. There isnt much he doesnt let you do to him. 

“Alright, cameras are gonna start in three…two.. One!” marco’s voice is characteristically calming, even at a higher pitch.

 

Your shoulders stand straighter as you look into the lens, placing the flashlight right under your chin. “hello, watchers! Welcome back to another episode of Unearth - a series where we try to gather evidence of the paranormal to see who wins - a believer,” you say, pointing the light under jeans chin briefly before settling it back under yours, “or a skeptic.” “it’s not a competition,” “right. Of course not.” you say, winking into the camera. Its jean’s turn to speak, his voice a low baritone, and you can see his breath becoming foggy into the now november air. “We are here today at the Marley Prison, rumored to be the host of seventy percent of the state’s most wanted criminals since the early eighteen hundred's. And we’re standing infront of it now and it’s fucking creepy,” “right, and it was also incredibly overcrowded, so-” “-so just, a terrible place to live in.” “yeah, but they killed people,” “...right. Most of them.” “i’ve heard it smells like shit,” you say, almost forgetting that this might get broadcasted, but jean’s eyes on you seemed to have that effect. forgetting the size of your own beating hear, forgetting where you were, melting away any proof of life except his.

He smirks, looking straight at the camera once more. “Right, that’s why i have-” he pulls out a small spray bottle. From what you could read, the text flashed, “FLOWER POWER!” and your smile turned into a laugh. “- this air freshener right here.” “right. That’ll protect us.” “if i get possessed i’d want.. It to smell, like-” “-like flower power-” “right.” now the both of you are laughing, shoulders shaking.

“Great. Let’s head inside, guys,” marco says, smile on his face, and eren puts the camera down to view what he had gathered. 

“After you,” jean says, his shoes scruffing against the harsh stones underneath, spreading his arm infront of you as a guide.

“Pussy,” you muttered, making him sputter.

-

“Alright,” you say, settling on the cold hard ground. Cell number 509, holding the last inmate of the entire prison who passed away in the very same, cramped room. Only a mattress and a sink to keep him company, a small, hand-sized window on the wall opposite to the door, meant to be locked at all times. 

“Dangerous people in this place,” you say, mostly to yourself. Your partner was on the ground floor of the vicinity, in another building entirely, investigating by himself. You decided to split up to see if that might spite any spirits to act, planning on asking questions to the different people that were barely alive, living in the space so freely disturbed. The camera crew were also downstairs, waiting on the two of you to be done. All you had was an old walkie-talkie that connected to jean’s. 

“You there?” his voice - filled with static and concern - reaches the confines of the prison cell. “Yep. where are you?” you ask, sitting in the middle of the floor, pulling your knees up to your chest, your flashlight flickering. “Im at the uh… that punishment place.” “ah. Im in Dean Cooper’s cell.” “oh,” he says. “Why dont we just use our phones for this part?” he asks, a beep following him. You smile. “I dont know, actually. Do you- should we?” “yeah that’d be.. I mean, better communication. Audio..quality - there are so many bugs here,” he speaks as you switch your phone on, dialing his number. He picks up not even a second in.

“Okay, can you hear me better?” he asks, and you rest your back against the thick wall. The door - heavy and cold - is fully closed so you could get a better experience, the full creeps. You nod, knowing he cant see it. “yep. Its crazy that people had to live like this,” you speak, holding the microphone part of your device close to your mouth, his voice on speaker. Something alive to fill the walls, more than your own presence. “Yeah. well it’s crazy that they committed so many crimes, honestly,” “i know.” 

You’re supposed to be filming. Your camera is rolling already and youre supposed to be speaking to a presumed dead person but a holy one is roaming downstairs without you and all you have is his voice as proof. “Hey,” jean calls out, and you thank good network reception and technology to have his voice be so clear, without cuts, real against your hand. “Im at the uh… what’s it called? The place where they could talk to their loved ones right now.” “ah,” “it feels weird.” a beat of silence. “Weird how?” you ask, your voice quiet. 

“Like-” theres a shifting sound at the end of the line, followed by a slight creak. “- weird in the sense that… i dont know, like, people still loved and cared for quote-unquote bad people,” 

You hum. Your head now also rests against the wall, too unaware to keep it up, too comfortable to find your own muscles. “I dont know. You’re always better with the words and shit.” he says, and you give him a small laugh. “Words and shit?” “yeah like, you know what to say.” “i mean, these people are dead, jean, theres a real small chance they can even hear us.” “i know, but like, even to alive people.” its almost 3 am, your phone says, and your heart increases in size, a little too comfortable against your ribcage. 

Have you ever felt that before? the muscle that’s supposed to be contained in a confined space now opens itself up and you have no choice but to let it. It grows, bigger, until youre body is tattered and all that remains as proof is your heart, big and timid, still beating, waiting for jean’s eyes to look at it. You havent. You wonder if any of the people half-alive in this place have. 

“I mean, love is alot of patience,” you start, your fingers fiddling with the end of your jacket. A stray piece of thread. You hear him humming in agreement and continue, “maybe they just… couldnt say it. How many times have you been able to not say that you love someone, y’know? And then you get the chance to but then it gets lost in all the other unimportant things and maybe that… maybe that’s love. The unimportant things.” you say. Your fingers feel funny, tingly, hearing his voice saying something at the end of your sentence. Youre too caught up to say something important as a reply.

So you settle. Listen. “Like, imagining this place alive… y’know. Like not in a creepy way but in like… it’s - like so much time passed, and so much was said here.” he says. His voice holds importance in your hands, and you trace shapes into the side of your phone with your thumb as if its the back of his hand and you’ve taken it in yours, cold and patient, unimportant. Tracing shapes that cant be seen. He hears them though. It’s in every pause he takes, every breath he hears on your end of the line and he wonders if you know how your alive-ness makes him braver than the night. Brave enough to know that speaking is something to be accomplished, that you’re listening.

 

He stares at the glass window in front of him, sitting on the chairs that prisoners used to sit on with hope in their eyes. At least, that’s how he imagines it. Theres a small hole in the window, enough only to catch a couple breaths and silenced sentences and he can only imagine how the other person mightve felt, seeing their loved one behind a blurry and unkept screen.

“Im not going to empathize with them, obviously, but, i feel like… i mean, obviously this place was built to be inhumane. The fact that they even included that section of the prison, though.. I dont know. it's kinda nice.” you say, and he closes his eyes to pretend youre in front of him. Its not that hard, in all honesty, because your voice fills his ears and he’d rather listen to proof of the living - with her shoe kicking his, with her voice teasing his shrieks - rather than the minute but present proof of the dead. He knew someone - barely alive souls, watching - had to be listening to your conversation but he also knew that he was listening to it too and he’d rather commit to the cold of your familiar hands than the unfortunately lived-in warmth of this place.

“It is.” he agrees, his chin tilting up, his shoulders relaxing. One hand in his pocket, the other holding his phone, microphone to his lips with the speaker on. He wasnt alone. His phone’s screen is blurry and unkept, but he wasnt alone. 

“Y’know that’s what i find kind of… i dont know, comforting? About like, something this hopeless. That, like.. There’s a recreational room that they had. Like the option was there for them to sit down there and talk, maybe. I dont know how that wouldve gone-” you say, voice ending in a self-aware laugh, making him smile, “-but it was there, right. Same with this communication room…thingie. Like the option of loving is there.” 

Your voice floats against the walls of the room, touches the glasses separating him and the world, before coming back to him. His chest feels funny, more aware that it’s there. Not just as an organ and something trivial that helps him breathe but now as something larger than himself. Something less candid, hidden under layers of clothing and skin built to be thick, raised to be soft, and it almost lays there, in front of him, inhaling the sound of your voice like it’s a new source of oxygen. And it grows. Alive.

“Option of loving,” he echoes, eyes now fluttering open and looking at the expanse of the tattered ceiling above him, spotting shapes. Option of loving. “Like even now there’s like.. Im sitting here, and there’s notches on the wall. Like the… four standing lines and then a slash through them. Like the hope of getting out isnt gone. Its… cool how humans just do that.” you say. He clings onto every word, his own little prayer against the dark, unsaid but important. Option of loving.

He looks back infront of him, staring at the glass window again. Theres gunk in the corners of it and spiderwebs claiming it as their home in a place as haunted as this. “And even if i dont… believe in ghosts it’s like…cool to think about in the sense that, i dont know, everything is a proof of life. Y’know?” you ask, ready for confirmation knowing that he’d provide it to you. Anything you’d ask.

“Thats… i didnt see it like that,” he admits, “i mean i just saw it as like… confirmation that dead people are dead and that if there’s an afterlife we have to chose a right way to live, something we’re proud of, so that we dont regret it when we’re… dead and roaming the halls, waiting to be found, yknow?” “like grief.” you answer, and he shifts in his seat, getting a bit more comfortable. He nods, knowing you wont see it. “Yeah. kind of.” “that’s…poetic. We should start a podcast-” “-shut up,” and both your voices are broken up by laughs, short and warm and proof of being alive and roaming the halls, waiting to be found.

There’s a dog howling in the distance. No light in the room that you’re in, barely any air, coolness of november flush against your skin despite your layers. His voice holds you, a little blanket, cocooning you around yourself. “Hey, you’re supposed to come find me,” you say, reminding him of his task of peering into the halls, asking ghosts and bugs to come closer to him. Whatever’s alive or half-dead or half-alive or half-already-living. “And you’re supposed to play twenty questions with your hot date,” “i think he’s pretty cold, actually,” you say, he laughs. Another shift in fabric, another creak - he’s gotten up from his place on the chair, now warmed, soon to be claimed by the prison’s musty air, but for now it’s there. Fully alive. 

“My battery’s gonna die.” he says, voice a little solemn, his footsteps squeaking against the floor, rubber on hard cement. “We have walkie-talkies,” you provide, your voice full around it’s edges with your own smile and jean almost asks why youre smiling, but refrains. He’ll ask when he finds you. Or maybe he’ll tell you he’s in love with you. Or maybe the words will get lost under all the other unimportant things that he has to say to you. 

Or maybe that’s just what love is. The unimportant things, layered, hidden, chest and heart, large, warm, growing. 

[d0g0r0t]

Random Band!Mizu hc

Her Bass

This bitch plays bass change my mind

She played acoustic guitar first but liked the way electric bass sounded more

Her bass was a hammy down from Eiji

He taught her a little but told her "if you do not learn from your mistakes, you have learned nothing" and left her to it

She started when she was 14 and the first day she played after 15 minutes she yelled "I GIVE UP!"

Then the next day she played again

Then did the same thing

Over time she got really good at it but she played differently then others because she had no help involved and learned what was best for her

She snapped one of her strings once and thought she broke the whole thing. She didn't even know they COULD break

She ran to Eiji having a whole break down and he just laugh

She got it fixed and felt like a dumbass

Her bass is this matt navy blue color and has a Japanese wave design strap.

Reference ⬇️⬇️⬇️

The Band

She joined after meeting Ringo. He saw her bass in the corner of her room and bombarded her with questions and if she would join his band. She was anxious but said sure

But her first practice when she saw Taigen she wanted to break her bass over his fat ass forehead

Taigen is lead guitar

Ringo is lead drummer and side singer

Akemi is lead singer and plays the piano in some songs

First practice she spent it learning from Taigen which was super fun to watch

"So then it's a E string-" "Taigen for the last fucking time I play bass you idiot" "WELL I DONT OK GIVE ME A FUCKING BREAK!"

Akemi record so many fights between them its insane. She could ruin both their careers if she wanted to

She HATES being in the spotlight and thank God Akemi and Taigen take it.

She never liked being seen and normal stands near Ringo, away from the light.

And yet people still make edits of her

First time they played was for one of Akemis friends, birthday

Taigen got drunk before hand and almost ruined everything but some how it went well

Mizu dragged his shit after

Band members

Ringo

He has special prosthetics for his drum sticks so he can easily snap them in. He uses thicker drum sticks so they fit better

His drums are a mix of things friends gave him and his first drum kit. He likes the different colors of his drums, he uses the symbols from his first kit because he likes the sound more then new symbols

Akemi

She plays a shit ton of things that her father wanted her to play, but when she was alone she learned she could sing

Her dad HATES that she's in a band that isn't basic. But Suki always supports her

She has a more higher pitch voice a bit like younger Billie Eilish but she sings like Lacey Sturm from flyleaf ⬇️⬇️⬇️

Taigen

He learned on acoustic first like mizu but he stuck to it

He started playing when he was 12 after finding his grandpa's old guitar in his garage and kept it ever since

Although he prefers acoustic, he plays electric for the band

His acoustic is this basic beaten tan colored guitar with old strings and a basic strap

His electric is this gorgeous shiny sage green color with a dark green strap

Reference ⬇️⬇️⬇️

I disappeared again guys mb

Also if you guys want a bass player! Mizu x reader just ask and we'll see what happens 👍

[huenistar]

hey, I’m the pink haire anon. Can I ask you more about your txt DR and K-pop DRs in general? I just got into K-pop shifting. I used to be a furry and wanted to shift into being a wolf, howl, and shit like that, and get bred by my big alpha mate. I’ve outgrown that lowkey, but I’m into K-pop now. So, can you talk to me about your DRs—like what to script or just yappe about it? feel free to mention anything random you think is nice to script.

ooo okay (i love yapping abt my txt dr)

so my stage name is min and i know alot of languages and stuff and omg i want to yap about hueningkai so badly

ive had a crush on him the moment i saw him up till now (im shifting to january 2024) and hes so sweet and kind i js want to squeeze him into a ball and throw him against the wall, he also likes me buttt i dont know that :33

ALSO WE START DATING AFTER MINISODE 3 PROMOTIONS (didnt specify a date js said after minisode 3 promotions but before the next cb)

im super rich (dad is literally the owner (?) of samsung and mom is a famous fashion designer, sister is an actor and brother is an exmodel) so yes i am technically a nepo baby but HEY IM TALENTED AS FUCK

i was born in 2002 (nov 15th) so im the maknae of txt :3

im lowkey too lazy to continue yapping about my dr but if u send another ask i promise to start yapping again🙏

some stuff to script

- you dont get tired of your voice (youll be listening to ur song 24/7)

- you have good stamina

- u dont sweat/ if u do sweat it doesn’t smell bad and it smells like (scent)

- staff are nice and ur company is good

- ur songs always win soty

- ur fancams are always high quality

- (only girl in bg) ur voice fits even if it’s a higher pitch, ur not called a pick me, even though theres a girl in ur group u still count as a boy group

- stage malfunctions, outfit malfunctions, voice cracks, etc rarely/never happen

- ur fandom isnt toxic

- you can hit any note

- u have perfect pitch

thats all i have on my minds

[genderjeopardy]

This is a brief, kind of muddy and unreliable recollection of my coming out to my parents like an year ago so,

TW: transphobia, s**c*de mention

i still find it so incredibly funny that my parents waited MONTHS to have "The Talk" with me. when it happened, they started off by mentioning how they always noticed my "habits" (trying to grow my hair out, speaking in a higher pitched voice, using my mom's deodorant, etc.) but weren't explicit about their observations. they then reassured me that in that time period, they had became more "open-minded", "knew more about the world" and how they would accept me regardless of my "sexual orientation". me being me, i was obvs swept up in a newfound respect and love for my parents, and almost instantly decided to let go of any hatred or reservations about them that had been boiling inside me for quite some time.

alas, i made a terrible oversight and failed to pay close attention to their exact words. "Your sexual orientation". now, i dont and wont blame my parents for not being up-to-date with queer lingo, but the point remains that they were expecting me to tell them that i was like, idk, gay (mlm) or bi or wtv. at the end of the day, in their heads, i would still remain their son.

ofc, this realization sailed way over my head at that point in time. as a result of this, and me letting of my guard, i blurted out that i thought that i was maybe trans. like i just mentioned offhand about going to therapy to discuss abt my supposed dysphoria and wanting my parents to use my preferred pronouns.

as soon as i finished my sentence, i could just feel the entire mood in the room just do a full 180. my parents who were v committed to presenting a calm, rational aura till that moment, instantly gravitated to smtg closer to pure confoundment and, weirdly enough, grief (in retrospect this made way more sense). like i just told them their relative died or smtg. heads buried in hands, my father crudely commented abt me becoming one of the "psychopaths". mom just straight up warned me that she would end herself over this (i think this was just said out of frustration, but still), trying to talk while almost choking on her tears. it was rlly tough for me to process exactly what was transpiring but i subconsciously went from "open your heart out" mode to "damage control", reassuring my parents that i wasnt sure whether i was even trans, let alone ready and willing to socially and medically transition. the situation kind of came into more control from there, but the message was clear, from both sides. my parents knew that i was not "just gay", and i knew that my parents werent rlly approving of my potential transness.

from then on, i kind of subconsciously restricted myself; somewhat lowering my vocal pitch, not regularly shaving my facial and body hair, more compliant with my parents' requests to not let my hair grow too long (my mom would question me sometimes whether i was still considering "that thing" with the same tone one would use when discussing idk, a drug addiction).

i still like to think that its not rlly hatred, but just an apprehension of smtg alien, smtg so incredibly against everything that both my parents have been raised with. i still like to hope that maybe in the future, with time and effort from myself (in terms of understanding them and teaching them), things could very well change. but i also cant help but lie that obvs the things they said were hurtful. furthermore, my feelings abt my supposed transness have been way more inconsistent than what i'd hoped for. not regular enough for me to be confident that i desperately need to transition, but also not completely out of my mind to convince me that im cis. if i cant convince even myself, who am i to teach anyone else?

anyways, i just wanted to let it out for funsies, considering the wide (and funny) gulf between my parents working so hard to prepare themselves for me coming out as "gay", only for them to get blown away with a completely different concept.

[introloves]

idk what this is! but have it anyway :3

— mutual masturbation + pining + friends to lovers + male masturbation + male p.o.v + omg they were roommatesss trope once again + feelings of guilt + hand job + aone masturbates to the thought of you <3 + mentions of unrequited feelings (or so he thinks >:)) + f! reader

— word count ; approx 1.9k

aone doesn’t know how his thoughts always trace back to you.

when he’s alone, you’re always on his mind. it’s curiosity, he thinks to himself, you’re such good friends that it’s all curiosity, it’s natural to wonder what your friend is doing late at night. wondering if you’re content and asleep.

but friends dont think of eachother in the way aone thinks about you.

— when he’s alone, he thinks of your body, your lips, he thinks of how your small hands would look wrapped around his dick.

it’s all he can do, he’s too shy to do anything about the way you make him feel. so he sits by himself, and wonders, he dreams about you.

he wonders if you touch yourself.

it’s dirty and disgusting of him to think about you that way, but it’s a secret he’s harbored for a long time.

he wonders how you would feel under him, he wonders what your pussy looks like, he wonders what it’s heat would feel like, sucking his cock in deep.

you have him wrapped around your finger and you don’t even know, you don’t know how much he wants to stuff you full with his cum.

it’s a secret he swears he’ll carry forever, it’s never going to leave the confines of his room or head, but it’s not all unbridled lust that as him attracted to you.

its your laugh, the way you look when you’re fighting off futakuchi for saying something, or how shy you look when you’re looking up at him, lips curled up in a smile, your hand coming up to brush a stray hair from your face.

once again he focuses on your hand, he wonders if your short little fingers are enough to bring you any pleasure when you’re alone. he knows that his fingers could do so much better, he wants to stuff you full with just them, prepping you for a cock he knows is almost monsterous in size, but in his fantasies you’re begging for even more of him.

it’s all too much for aone, he’s dizzy when he blinks and sees his cock in his hand. he’s embarrassingly hard. against his pale skin, the throbbing of blood in his cock paints a painful hue of red and almost purple splotches all over it, the angry colors concentrate on his head that’s weeping with precum.

this happens every night, somehow his thoughts loop back to you and then he’s fucking his fist, biting back moans because even though you’re his friend... you’re also his roommate...

maybe that’s why you’re always on his mind, living in such close proximity with someone, it’s bound to happen, right?

he wants to laugh because he knows the answer to that.

there’s guilt etched in the very being that he is when he’s panting your name, shaping your name into the night.

he shivers at a particularly nice pull of his fist over himself, the build up is fast, he knows that with every slap of his palm against his pelvis, the higher the chance of you to catch him like this.

it’s thrilling, the idea of you walking into his room, to ask him... something, anything, and seeing how he’s leaning against the headboard, thighs splayed out, almost glistening with the moonlight.

he likes thinking that you’d clench at the sight of him, hands reaching down to tug that oversized shirt you wear to bed down, covering those tiny shorts that he loves- lusts over. he wants to pull those to the side and have a peak at what’s underneath.

his hips cant up at the thought, he hisses out into the stagnant air. he cant stop the rumbling of his groans as he lets your name tumble past, louder than intended.

he stops everything to listen, making sure you haven’t woken up, or heard the way his bed was groaning at the thrusts of his hips.

he swallows tensely, a hand coming up to run through his short hair.

aones so caught up with himself that doesn’t hear the soft padding of your feet walking towards his door.

you’re still warm with sleep, but after hearing the soft noises coming from his room, you rub the drowsiness out of your eyes and make your way to him, checking to see if he’s okay.

your pulse quickens as you reach it, the only light that’s present is the one filtering in from the moon, everything else is doused in a pitch black.

if he���s hurt then you’re screwed, having someone like him as a roommate makes you feel secure, he’s like a never ending beacon of safety and you’re not sure what else could be the cause of what sounds like pained gasping.

you reach out and push the already ajar door open slightly.

your eyes widen immediately, hand coming up to cup your gasping mouth.

you should turn away, you should close your eyes, you should do something other than just standing there gawking. but that shock turns into something hot and heavy, it’s almost suffocating in how much it turns you on, seeing aone like that.

his head is thrown back, thick neck prominent with veins and you can see he’s sweating. you look down to where his hand is pumping himself roughly, it looks like it hurts, looks like he’s doing that with the sole intent to cum, and not to enjoy it.

you’re almost panting, seeing him like this for the first time, you have a white-knuckled grip on your shirt, while your hand is still clamped firmly around your mouth, the only time you move your eyes from his dick is when you notice his movements have stopped.

your eyes flutter back to his face, and you nearly trip backwards when you make eye contact with him.

he looks like he’s ready to run, his expression mirrors your own, he can’t think of anything other than the pure mortification of you seeing him.

this is all so wrong, this wasn’t how it was supposed to happen- no, it was never supposed to happen. he was going to keep to himself and let you go.

there’s an error between his mind and actions, he thinks that he should cover up and immediately offer you his apologies, explain to you that he gets a wild need at night, nothing more.

but finally seeing you and not the you he’s created in his head gives his cock a twitch, it’s embarrassing how violent it is, the pulse of him watching you. he squeezes, hard, to keep from cumming. his upper body coming forward, in a feeble attempt to shield himself from you, and the only thing he can do is spit out a,

“sorry.”

it’s a pathetic rumble of words, aone should be offering himself to you, no wait- begging for you to turn around and leave, but in that moment it’s all he can do, so dangerously close.

it’s all been a crazy night, because when you step closer to him, he can hardly believe it.

you’re soft when you finally make his way to him, a hand just barely there- but warm against the milky skin on his back.

your knee is right next to him, he realizes, gulping when the weight of you is transferred onto his bed.

you’re right there, he can feel your body heat, it’s so nice.

he doesn’t know what to do when you finally break the heavy silence.

“i can help you.”

it’s nothing more than a whisper, words that hold more weight than they should, and yet you offer yourself to him.

it gets him to look at you, those intense eyes that you know so well look so pleading. in favor to save the jumping of your heart at the way he looks at you, you look down at the heavy dick still hard in his hand.

“can i touch you.” you inquire, still not brave enough to say it louder than just a small whisper.

he’s almost ashamed to admit the fact that you’d be the first, it builds already on the weight of his turmoil thus far.

but aone knows he wants it.

he keeps his eyes on you, letting them roam your body and how you’re really, actually here with him, looking at him with hungry eyes.

he moves his hand, and he’s so hard that his dick doesn’t fall.

he hates how eager he is to have you actually touch him, hates how well the picture of you touching him matches with the real you, just like in his head, your fingers barely touch eachother while you take him in your small hand.

he’s wet already, even wetter with the beads of precum that are rolling down his shaft, it makes your job easy.

“do you do this every night?” you ask, thighs clamping together because the weight of him feels so good in your hand, he’s so big.

he nods, sucking in breath after breath while you twist your hand over his swollen head.

he didn’t even do that, he didn’t know touching himself like that would feel so good.

he’s so receptive, so good in how you can feel the small rocking of his hips up into your hand.

it makes you travel on of your own into your sleeping shorts.

the sound of your fingers slipping messily over your obviously wet pussy has aone staring. he looks, looks at your hand and the movement underneath your covering.

he swears at that, there’s a loud ringing in his ears while you pump him.

“what do you think about?” your voice is wrecked, whiny and high strung. he thinks you sound beautiful.

“you.”

it’s too much, too much, too much.

you’re swollen and the confession he just gave you goes right to your cunt, there’s a moan that seeps out of you, and aone realizes that you’re cumming.

you shake while you continue on, tugging at him with the same desperation he had while you walked in, you want to see him come undone, you know the wield for him is going to be so good, you can almost taste it.

aone doesn’t think he’s ever been so lucky, so deserving, to marvel at the beauty that is you while you’re mid orgasm.

it was enough when you walked in and saw him, but now that you’re touching him and he can feel you with the shake of the bed, it has him wrecked.

his hands are digging into his thighs, just a little more of the pressure against them he might actually break skin.

he doesn’t ask your permission to touch you, but does so anyway, he clasps a hand over the one weakly working at him, guiding you so it’s just how he likes it.

there’s so much cum, the force of it has where you’re touching him covered, even with his hand over yours, it paints your own white, landing on his tensing stomach.

you don’t think you’ve ever seen anything so attractive.

you both sit there in a sort of daze, not sure how to process what happened, there’s a heavy pause when you touch base with reality.

and while aone has always held back, walked cautiously like he’s been advised his whole life because of his stature and face, he decides to be openly greedy and selfish.

aone grabs you, his eyes looking for you and kisses you hard.

he thinks that if there’s any part of his life where he’d break the many rules he’s set for himself, he’s going to say, “fuck it all” with you.

and just like the many times previously during the night, he thinks he’s dreaming when you kiss him back with the same intensity.

[thealmightyemprex]

Random movie reviews Treasure Island 1990

So Treasure Island is one of the first books I ever read ,and its a story I am fond of .I have seen multiple adaptations ,my favorites being Muppet Treasure Island and Treasure Island 1934 ,but each version has things I like and things I dont .

So this version is a TV movie that aired on TNT in the USA ,and it stars Charton Heston,Christain Bale ,Oliver Reed and Christopher Lee (Dont get too excited Reed and Lee are barely in this ) and its one I have wanted to see for a while

For those who dont know the story,it follow a young boy named Jim Hawkins ( Christain Bale) , who finds a treasure map that belonged to drunken pirate Billy Bones (Oliver Reed) ,and sets off on an adventure with Dr Livsey (Julian Glover ),Squire Trelawney (Richard Johnson ) and Captain Smollet (Clive Wood ) only to find pirates have infiltrated the ship lead by the ships one legged cook Long John Silver (Charlton Heston )

I really enjoyed this ,it had issues but I liked it . I think most of the supporting cast is really good:Julian Glover is pitch perfect casting for Livesey ,Clive Wood nails the serious minded Smollet ,Richard Johnson is the best Trelawney I have ever seen , and the great Pete Postlethwaite was born to play a pirate and is excellent as the oppurtunistic George Merry . Oliver Reed is good casting for Billy Bones ,though far from my favorite iteration (That would be Billy Connolly or Lionel Barrymore ) but he is very good in his limited screen time .Christopher Lee is amazing in his small role as the villainous Blind Pew,being quite frightening ,and almost unrecognizable ,even doing a higher voice then his signature bass ,it might be one of my favorite roles I have seen him in .Charlton Heston I think is a very good Long John Silver ,nailing the likable charm mixed with the fact he is a murdering pirate .I do have issues (I'll get into that ) and he's not my favorite Silver (Honestly there are too many good Silvers ) ,but he is excellent.The film might be my favorite looking Treasure Island ,having good production values,action scenes are well done (I like that we actually do get a fight between Silver and George Merry ),and it was pretty good

As for negatives I do have a few.One is this was too long (Its a short book ,and most versions I feel tell the story better in a about 100+ minutes or less,this is over two hours ).I am not a fan of Christain Bale ,and that is true here,he is way to intense for Jim .*I also thought Jims fight with ISeral Hands was staged badly ,I didnt like the actor playing Hands ,I dont think Bale plays it right ,and the music during that scene is bad .Also it has been a long time since I have read the book ,so I dont know if it is in the book....But it is my preferred interpertation ,I like when despite being a villain through and through,Silver cares about Jim ,and Jim being truly heartbroken to find out Silver is evil .....And there is just none of that friendship here and I dont buy when Heston's Silver defends Jim

Despite the flaws ,I did enjoy this ,this was an enjoyable pirate romp .I think it is worth watching for the performances and the production design/values are really good

@ariel-seagull-wings @metropolitan-mutant-of-ark @themousefromfantasyland @the-blue-fairie @storytellergirl @angelixgutz @amalthea9

[malfoysstilinski]

girl in the mirror | DRACO MALFOY

MASTERLIST

PAIRING: Draco Malfoy x Muggle!Reader

WORD COUNT: 2.1k 

SUMMARY: in which draco and y/n are soulmates and can hear each others’ music, and you’ve been blasting sad songs all week, worrying draco. 

WARNINGS: one mean joke about americans sozzles 

A/N: based on the tiktoks where soulmates can hear each others’ music. i dont think ive seen an imagine like that on here so i thought i’d write one :)) also set in 2010s 

In the Wizarding world, on your thirteenth birthday, you are officially bound to your soulmate. This means different things for different wizards and witches, depending on what they valued. For example, when Blaise Zabini turned thirteen, he was able to see his soulmate in mirrors-- fitting considering how self-obsessed he was. 

Draco, however, heard music. You must be obsessed with it, he realised. He found out he was right pretty quickly, waking up to the sound of your playlists muffled in his ears and falling asleep to them too. 

It was always Muggle music too. You must be a half-blood, or even… Merlin forbid, a Muggle-born. Realising that his soulmate wasn’t going to be a pure-blood like his parents had planned, Draco kept the news to himself and worked on his vocabulary. He tried his best to bite his tongue around Granger, ignoring his friends when they made fun of their ‘dirty’ blood.

He didn’t want to hurt you when he got to meet you. 

It took Draco longer than it should have to realise you definitely didn’t go to Hogwarts. How could you when he’d be sat in assemblies, the room so silent you could hear a pin drop, and all he’d hear is the thumping of your music in his ears as if he was underwater?

“She’s probably an American,” Pansy pretends to gag, the others laughing with her. 

“Could be a Beauxbaton,” Blaise suggests. 

Draco doesn’t like to make assumptions, but he thinks you are definitely a Muggle. It’s rare, but not unheard of in the Wizarding world, especially nowadays. For the Malfoys, though, it would be an outrage. 

You play your music the most when he’s eating dinner in the Great Hall or when he’s getting ready for bed. 

At first, he hated it. He hated your music, he hated how his head was rarely ever quiet, and he hated that he didn’t know who you were in order to beg you to take your headphones out for once. 

However, Draco learnt to love your music. Songs and bands he’d never heard of before quickly became his favourites and eventually, he found himself humming your Muggle tunes in the common room or quietly singing along in his dorm when the other boys were out doing whatever. 

He learned to love having your music in his head, especially as the years rolled on and his life became harder and harder. It made him feel like he was never alone, your muffled melodies making a home in his head and pushing out all of his anxiety and depression. 

Draco wanted to dance with you to them. He liked to lay in bed at night and listen to your songs and imagine that you’re lying next to him. He bets you have a nice singing voice. Maybe you can even play an instrument or two. Maybe you could teach him how to play the guitar, and maybe he could show you how to play his favourite pieces on the piano. 

Your music is never too upbeat, but today Draco feels like he hasn’t heard a single song that wasn’t about being sad. As he trudged from class to class, Draco couldn’t help but feel like something was wrong with you. It had been going on for the past few days, and the music stopped altogether on one of the days. 

He went to bed with an empty head for the first time in a few years, staring at his ceiling. He plugged his iPod in and went to the Muggle section, playing a few of your favourite songs. It wasn’t the same. 

“What’s up with you?” Blaise demands as Draco doesn’t touch his meal for the second time that day. 

Draco glances to his friend and looks away, shaking his head. “Mind your own business, Zabini,” he mutters weakly. 

Blaise’s soulmate, a Slytherin in the year below, joins them at sitting on the table and Blaise immediately forgets all about Draco, the two of them giggling as they hug each other. Draco thought he could throw up right there and then, shaking his head in disgust. 

Green was Draco’s colour and Merlin was he jealous. 

Why did you have to be a stupid Muggle?

Draco immediately feels bad for even thinking it. He wants to hug you and kiss the top of your head and mutter apology after apology. The soft feeling makes him feel weak. You did things to him that nobody else did, and he doesn’t even know who you were. The fact that you were most likely going through a rough time right now made it ten times worse. 

“What’s wrong with Draco?” He hears Zabini’s girl whisper. 

“Why don’t you ask me yourself?” Draco snaps, lip curling in disgust. “Instead of talking behind my back like a coward!”

“Draco,” Blaise growls. “I don’t know what’s up with you, mate, but you need to calm down.”

“It’s your soulmate, isn’t it?” Pansy quirks an eyebrow from opposite them. “Are they playing that rubbish song you hate on repeat again?”

“No,” Draco hisses in defence of you. “I like that song, thank you.”

Pansy holds her hands up. “Okay, whatever. Sorry, Malfoy. What has got your knickers in a twist, then?”

He hesitates. He doesn’t like talking about you to anybody else but he’s really worried and he thinks maybe one of them might be able to help. 

“She’s…” Draco’s eyes drift to burn holes in the table in front of him. “She’s been listening to sad songs.”

Goyle snorts, making Draco’s head snap to him in fury. 

“Sorry, Malfoy, sorry… But that does sound ridiculous, mate,” Goyle admits. “She’s probably just into that… genre?”

“No, you don’t understand,” Draco huffs and shakes his head. “You don’t know her like I do. Something’s wrong with her, I can tell.”

“Well, why don’t you visit her?” Blaise asks, grabbing a grape and popping into his mouth. 

“What?” Draco spits. “Is that a joke, Zabini? I don’t find it funny--”

“I’m not joking,” Blaise frowns. “Merlin’s sake, Malfoy. Do you not pay attention in Charms?”

“Of course I do,” Draco hesitates, lying. “But what are you talking about, anyway?”

…

Draco feels ridiculous as he stands in front of the mirror in the bathrooms later that night. It’s silent since it’s the middle of the night, but Draco knows you’re awake because of the glum music playing faintly in his ears. 

He wants to visit you like Blaise told him to do, and as he stands in front of the mirror and casts his incantations, he can’t help but wonder if this is a setup. He doesn’t give his hopes up, doesn’t hold his breath that when he opens his eyes you’ll be on the other side of the mirror. 

But he wants you to be. He wants you to be there so badly. 

Draco does sort of believe it so he put on his black turtleneck and black suit and combed his hair like usual, replacing the uniform and robes he’d been wearing all day. He doesn’t want you to see him and be disappointed. 

He knows he won’t be disappointed no matter what you look like or what you are. 

Draco takes a deep breath as he lowers his wand and closes his eyes. When he counts down and opens his eyes, he’s stunned into silence by the sight in front of him. His heart skips a beat and he nearly chokes on his own spit. 

Staring back at him in the mirror is not his own pale reflection but what looks like a bedroom. The mirror glows orange from the lighting and he can see that it’s decorated with posters and records and other Muggle things. Draco doesn’t even process that you’re a confirmed Muggle at this point, he doesn’t care enough about that. 

On a single bed in the middle of the room, sat up in the very centre with headphones in and a laptop in front of her, is a girl his age. She’s got beautiful y/s/c skin and y/c/h locks that have been thrown up into a messy bun, her y/c/e trained on the screen in front of her as she watches what he assumes is a film or a tv show. 

She’s wearing a school uniform, not quite as posh as Hogwarts’, and it’s slightly crumpled from sitting in her bed with it on. Her polished black shoes are nowhere to be seen, rips in the bottom of her tights no doubt from wearing them thin five days a week. 

Draco can’t believe he’s looking at you right now. He reaches his hand out, eyes widening when his fingers seem to slip past the glass and he’s sucked into another world-- your world. He wasn’t expecting it to happen, a small yelp leaving his lips as he tumbles straight out of the mirror hanging on your wall and onto your carpet. 

You both scream as you make eye contact and you’ve thrown your laptop about in a panic. There’s no music in his ears now that he stands in front of you. Draco breathes heavily, unsure what to say. 

“Um, hello?” He offers. 

“What the hell?” You yell. “What are you doing in my bedroom? Who are you? My laptop!”

You ignore him as you dive off of the bed and pick it up. The screen is smashed making you glare at him harder. 

“I’m sorry!” Draco practically squeaks. “I- I have Galleons--”

“Who are you?” You cut him off roughly. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Draco keeps repeating, hoping you will calm down. “I-I’m Draco Malfoy.”

“Draco Malfoy?” You repeat with a mocking laugh. “Is that a joke?”

“No,” he replies, voice pitched higher than usual with offence. “What’s your name?”

Normally you wouldn’t tell a stranger your name, but this situation is anything but normal. You stare at the boy for a few seconds, wondering why he feels familiar. There’s something about him that has you relaxing under his gaze, which is weird because he literally just appeared out of nowhere. 

“Y/N Y/L/N,” you reply sceptically. 

Draco smiles, “beautiful name.”

“Are you like a nonce or something?”

“Nonce?” Draco crinkles his nose in confusion. 

You narrow your brows at him. “You’re literally British-- how do you not know what that means?”

“I’m not… I don’t really come from your kind of England,” Draco doesn’t know how to explain there is an entire world she’s been hidden from-- this is the first Muggle he’s ever had a conversation with. 

“Are you Welsh?” 

“Do I sound Welsh to you?” Draco cocks his head to the side, already amused. 

“Sometimes I can’t tell the difference, not gonna lie,” you reply. “But no. I’m sure you’re English. You sound like you’re a private school kid or something.”

“I guess I am,” Draco replies quietly, looking around your bedroom and taking in all of the colours that it has. 

You seem to snap out of whatever daze you were in. “Hey! You distracted me. Now tell me what the hell you’re doing in my bedroom before I call the police.”

Draco’s tongue darts out to wet his lips as he contemplates his next words. He hesitates and sits down on your bed next to you. You can smell his cologne-- it smells much more expensive than the Lynx sprays the boys at college seem to be obsessed with. 

“Do you ever hear music in your ears?” He asks, watching your eyes widen in conformation. “You do. That’s… that’s me. My music. I hear your music too. You listen to it all the time. Um… normally a lot of bands and stuff.”

There’s a long silence. “Do you have me on Spotify?”

“What’s Spotify?” Draco’s nose crinkles. 

“You probably just see what I listen to on Spotify!” You claim, standing up as you become weary of the boy on your bed. 

Draco still doesn’t quite understand your Muggle terminology, but he gets the gist of what you’re trying to imply. 

“That doesn’t explain the music you hear in your head from me,” Draco tries. “Or how I just came out of your mirror.”

You look overwhelmed. “What are you?” You whisper. 

“We, Y/N, are soulmates.”

...

yuh

PART TWO HERE

[earth2068]

Do you have any voice headcanons for your characters?

i dont really have distinct character voices when i read/write dialogue, its mostly just my voice in my head, but i have imagined what their voices would sound like!

flynn has a pretty typical teen boy voice. his tone resonates at the roof of his mouth, and its kind of entertaining hearing his sort-of-awkward youthful voice spit out sentences much snarkier than youd think a voice like that could form. its like seeing a puppy bite someones leg. his voice is higher and cracks a bit when hes excited, and lower when hes being snarky, using a lot of vocal fry, if you know what that is.

leons voice has a bit of a higher pitch than youd expect from a man his age (he would sing tenor), mostly because he started HRT in his late teens. (in my mind, at least. idk if thatll make its way into the scripts) i imagine that his tone is really warm, and he has a tendency to laugh while talking. he has one of those dad-ish belly laughs. if youre sitting on a couch with him and he starts laughing, that whole couch is going to rumble with him

i think vermillion and phil have eerily similar voices. if either of them wanted to impersonate the other, they easily could. vermillion isnt interested in "passing" with their voice, and doesnt try to adjust their pitch in any way. theyre a baritone, like phil, and dont care to change that. both have the voice of someone very accustomed to public speaking, with a bright, sort of brassy timbre that resonates in their chests. the main difference is that phils voice is more worn out than vermillions, due to the age difference. vermillion is also much more confident with their speech than phil, who has more of a tendency to stutter, while vermillion is always talking slightly louder than they think they are

lucille and violet are the only characters i have actual voiceclaims for. violet sounds like mj rodriguez (if you dont know who that is, look her up, watch the video of her singing suddenly seymour with george salazar, then watch it again, then keep watching until you understand), and lucille sounds like me. if youve heard my voice before, she sounds like that. (i projected a lot of my gender stuff onto lucille around the time i realized i was trans. she has the same gender as me.)

viridian is a quiet kid with a very even tone. pitch-wise, hes in the tenor range, and hes still at that age where his voice will crack every once in a while. he speaks in a sort of flat, inexpressive way, always sounding ever so slightly confused, partially because thats just how he is, and partially as, like, a joke that hes silently entertained by. something youll see from him in later chapters is his occasional excited outbursts, when he suddenly expresses a LOT more energy than he normally has to ramble about something hes passionate about, and moments later he is back in his turtle shell as if nothing happened

[myvalzpival]

hi this isn't really about your album but also kinda is, uh i suffer from a big case of "i hate my voice" especially when recorded... is there a way to get over it? is that something you struggle with?

i hear this a lot, especially from people who want to sing and do music, but are too shy and this exact problem is holding them down. and in many cases, they are very anxious and can't really say why it is they hate it.

so my first advice would be to sit down and give it a thought. maybe record yourself singing/saying something short and listen to it a few times (i know you dont wanna but bear with me). try to figure out WHY it is you hate it. is it the pitch? is it the tone? is it the gravel? is there something missing that you want? once you get this down, try to figure out whether it is something that actually can be taught. remember, your voicebox is a muscle that works with muscle memory and you can train it and teach it new things in the same way you can teach your body to throw a disc or run hurdles. so if you want your voice just a tiny little bit lower/higher, work on your pronunciation, accent, whatever, you can totally do it! but you better do it with a supervision (just like when learning throwing or hurdling) and remember that you have to give it a solid commitment (just like when learning throwing or hurdling). no skill is learnt overnight and you need time, focus and supervision. nevertheless, there is a lot of singing and voice coaches on youtube too so pick wisely and you can use those.

what if it's just the general voice that bugs you? the sheer fact that it is you talking and you hate it?

well, then we need to talk about something a little different. again. try to sit down and listen to yourself. try to figure out what it is there that bothers you, and now, we're not talking just about the, eh... physical traits of the voice, let's say. as a trans dude, my voice used to be a big deal to me. but you know what? it didn't happen until i got sucked into this whole internet transgender machinery. i loved my voice, i've been a singer ever since i remember, my voice always used to be extremely high pitched and uncomfortable in certain positions, but i'd worked hard to make that voice work for whatever i needed it to. i'd never suffered from this hatred towards my recorded voice, ever, because i was used to hearing it all the time. but once i started transitioning, i started going through forums and all i read was "my voice is too high" and "i hate my voice because i sound like a girl" and "i will never pass because of my voice" and while all these concerns are totally valid, they made me absolutely HATE every word i've ever said.

so, again, listen to yourself and think. is it really the voice you hate? and is it really you who hates this voice? aren't you just scared that others will hate it? isn't it just the general idea that "a voice that is [this or that] isn't as attractive as a voice thst is [this or that]"? couldn't it be that you are shy? in other words, is it really the VOICE that is the problem?

while there are countless possibilities that can help you change whatever you need and want, sometimes we have to come in terms with the fact that some things just can't be changed. in most cases, you just won't sound like Morgan Freeman, Beyoncé or Michael Jackson just because you work hard on it and really really really want to make it happen. as a trans dude, i had to come in terms with the fact that, just as it was high pitched when i presented as a woman, my voice will still be high pitched now. and all you need is time, kindness, patience and understanding of your own body and mind to not get crazy from it.

in other words, if the problem isn't physical, sit on your butt and start working. record yourself every day. just a little. talk to yourself. just say something nice that happened that day. if you're a singer, sing a little. just a short verse. but do it every day. and listen. listen to yourself, once, then twice, pumo the volume up as time goes by. i promise you'll get used to it, you'll get used to yourself and you'll slowly get into practicing without really noticing. and once you start accepting yourself and your voice, there's just a small step to loving it. and then there's just a tiny step to other people loving it too.

❤️

[michi-hawkeye]

For the ask game first sentence - do your fav pairing, I don't mind. "I'm a much better liar than you are."

Established Ravi/Albert

Jee is around one years old

Albert had volunteered to watch Jee so that Chimney and Maddie could have a baby free day out, Albert had made that commitment before Ravi could ask him if he wanted to go out on a date, but thankfully Ravi didn’t mind spending time with Albert while they watched Jee together.

Then everything went to shit.

Everything was going well, Ravi was watching Jee play in her play pen while also talking to her as she babbled in the living room area. Albert was cooking lunch, but he was slightly distracted by watching his niece and Ravi because next thing he knew he had cut his finger with a knife he was using.

Albert made the logical response to that by saying “Ow shit!”, Ravi had then left the living room to help Albert with the wound, while they were focusing on making sure Albert didn’t bleed all over the counter.

The higher pitched voice of Jee called out, “Shit”, Albert then proceeded to panic

“How are we going to tell my brother and Maddie we accidentally taught Jee how to cuss!” Albert choked out, while Ravi was bandaging up Albert’s cut.

Jee on her part was looking at them from her playpen, Albert didn’t know if babies were capable of it but Jee had a shit eating grin that was reminiscent of Howie’s smile, “babe, breathe alright, we can always lie or something”

“nope not doing that, they’ll find out, Maddie will find out she’s just as scary as Athena ever since they had Jee” Albert said as he looked over at Jee calmly playing with her toys like she didn’t just cuss.

“then you dont have to lie, lying isn’t really a Han trait from what we’ve seen , I can lie while you just stand there, I’m a much better liar than you are anyways” Ravi said looking like he was already formulating a plan.

“you better not be thinking about throwing Buck and Eddie under the bus” since Buck and Eddie were the last to babysit Jee. Albert was going to tell Ravi that would be a even worse Idea until,

“who’s going to throw who under the bus” came Maddie’s voice from behind them,

“Shit!!!”

“Shit!”

“Jee NO!!”

[ellewords]

I CAN TOTALLY SEE OIKAWA BEING SUCHHHH A GOOD SINGER like he hums under his breath a lot and its the most beautiful sounding melody everrr and he does it all the freaking time and sometimes doesn't even realise he's doing it and it kind of annoys the people around him but it sounds so angelic they dont mind. i can also imagine him having a slight smile on his face when he sings and its just urghhhh literally panty melting lmaoo

+ also i can imagine his range being mostly higher pitched(?) and not very low but sometimes when he feels like it he can sing like reallyy low and it shocks everyone around him

this is basically my little brain rot haha enjoy💞

— from elle ! YES YES YES !! i will never shut up about oikawa being a good singer because i absolutely see it just sigh. and imagine being his s/o and just hearing his voice all the time and just ugh,, felt like writing a little drabble feat. yn because my brainrot for this man is actually endless (*´꒳`*) tysm for this anon aaaa !!

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

you’ve heard oikawa singing more times than you can count. not that you had any complaints.

he hums to himself in the morning, when he wakes up much earlier, on the occasion that he decides to make breakfast for the both of you. oikawa moves effortlessly between the kitchen counters, getting ready to brew a cup of coffee. the melodies are sweet as he flips a pancake with ease, a proud smile on his face. it’s barely audible but the corners of your lips still twitch up as you leaned your head against the doorframe, watching him.

oikawa’s humming grows louder when you wrap your arms around his waist, hugging him from behind. his voice fills the corners of your kitchen as he sings out his words, “good morning, my yn-chaaan.”

—

he’s belting out his favorite songs in the afternoon, when he’s cleaning around the apartment, his phone connected to a bluetooth speaker. he’s using a broom as a makeshift microphone, pretending like he’s performing to a crowd of thousands. he’s grateful that the walls between you and your neighbors are thick, he could be as loud as he wanted without receiving a noise complaint.

the songs are upbeat, the kind that made him want to jump around. but some of them are dramatic, and he’s taking the opportunity to imagine himself in a music video.

oikawa doesn’t even notice you walk in the front door, a little too caught up in his own imagination to notice you failing to hold in your own laughter. when he finally does notice you, he doesn’t get embarrassed. instead, he reaches a hand out, inviting you to join him in his antics.

and who were you to say no to him?

—

oikawa sings to you at night, when the stars are out and the rest of the world is quiet. he holds you close in the living room, swaying softly to his own words, honeyed and tender. you don’t recognize the lyrics, and you realize that he’s making it up as he goes along. you catch the references to your relationship in the words, all complimented by the sweetness in his tone, the gentle rhythm and melody.

any other song had no match for his. just like how any other love had no match for the one the two of you shared.

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

send me your hcs ! <3  |  written on the margins masterlist

taglist : @haikyuutothetop @crystal-lilac @tobioespresso @sushijimawakatoshi @itsmeaudrieee @pantherhappy @jesssobs @mysticstrawberryballoon @cloudedsky_29

join my hq taglist here. <3

[imagineurfavs]

Morning Sex with Pentagon

“i really like the pentagon cock warming post ♥︎♥︎ so i was wondering if you could do a reaction with pentagon about morning sex btw i love your work 🥺♥︎ can i be anon 🥺”

A/N I think i might have got a little carried away with a few of these i- sorry if theyre a little long. Also it’s just past 4am here as i post this...I started writing this at 11pm...wow...goodnight yall skjgsljg

(under a keep reading just bc smutty and long lmao)

----------

Jinho: You hear him grumble slightly as he began to wake up slowly, his hands immediately searching for you next to him. His warm fingertips resting lightly on your thighs, squeezing them slightly to see if you were awake. “Good morning~” you groan, barely awake, trying to turn to face him. His grip on you stops you from turning over, keeping your back against his chest. “Morning, darling” his groggy voice echoing throughout the room as he shifts him body closer to you, your butt now pressed up close enough against him for you to realise exactly why he was so touchy this morning. He’d push into you slowly from behind, planting open mouthed kisses over your neck and shoulder blades. A free hand snaking over your hips, rubbing light circles on your clit. The pace would remain slow and deep, low sighs mixed with declarations of love falling from his lips with every thrust. He tries to hide his moans as he cums by biting down on your shoulder, leaving a hickey that’s sure to last a while. He stays inside you until you both come down from your highs, only then slowly pulling out of you, letting out a soft giggle “it is a good morning, isn’t it...”

Hui: Hoetaek is surprisingly chipper in the mornings, and times like this are no exception. His hands wandering all over your body, resting longer and lightly tickling any bare skin he can reach. “How are you still so pretty first thing in the morning” he says between kisses, the smile evident in his voice. He rests his forehead against your own as he pushes himself slowly into you, your legs raising to wrap around his waist. His morning voice, soft yet gravelly, speaking quiet words of love into your ear as he rolls his hips against you. He lifts one of his arms up, grabbing the headboard behind you to help him hit that area inside you at just the right angle. Your legs begin to tighten around his body as you feel that familiar heat start to build in your stomach. Even the slightest clench of your walls around him was enough to send him over the edge, the snapping of his hips getting sharper and sharper until you're both a shaky, breathless mess. Even with your limbs tangled together, sweat sticking your bodies to each other, he refuses to move from you until you assure him you’re totally satisfied. “I love you y/n, but we’re both so sweaty and gross right now, you want me to run you a bath?” he remarks as you playfully smack his chest

Hongseok: On particularly bright days, when even the closed curtains couldn't contain the rays of the sun, something about how the soft golden light hit his skin stirred something deep within you. You plant a light kiss on his cheek, thinking he was still asleep, only to have him wrap his arms tightly around you, making you essentially fall on top of him. “I could feel you staring at me” he says with a low chuckle, eyes still closed. “Well, stop being so beautiful then, and I won’t have to stare” You reply, pushing yourself up to lean above him. But before being able to fully extend your arms, he clamps you in his embrace and flips the two of you over, his large form now hovering over you. His eyes still heavy with sleep, locked with your own as he trails his hands down and past your stomach. He placed his lips lightly on yours, shaky breaths fanning over your face as he lets out quiet coarse moans. Moving slowly inside you, every thrust pushing you closer and closer to the edge. He finished with one last sharp thrust before rolling to your side, keeping one hand locked with yours. You lay together, getting your breath back to normal, the small beads of sweat catching the morning sunlight which illuminated you both in the most beautiful way.

Shinwon: Say hello to lowkey submissive needy Shinwon lmao. Not opening his eyes even once, he’d pull you up to straddle him whilst keeping his lips locked with yours. He’d run his hands up and down your back, keeping you flush against his broad chest. With even the slightest bit of pressure from your hips down onto his, he’d let out the tiniest little whines, his eyes screwing shut. He was already hard just from making out so he’d try his best to get you to speed things up. “Please baby, I- fuck, please” he’d moan quietly starting to pull his boxers down his legs, hoping that you’d take the hint. As you sink yourself down onto him, he grips your hips so tightly the ends of his fingers turn a pale white colour, his formerly sleepy visage contorting with pleasure, as his breathing begins to catch in his throat. You can feel that he’s getting close to finishing as he starts to buck his hips up to meet yours, holding you in place above him. He cums with a series of sporadic thrusts, letting out a choked out moan of your name, before pulling you down to rest atop him. He rolls you over so you're laying opposite each other, tiredness coming back to his face once again. Good luck convincing him to get up lmao.

Changgu (Yeo One): He’s positioned himself above you, running his hands lightly down your side as his eyes bore into your own. “I love getting to wake up to sights like this...you’re so beautiful” he says as he brings a hand up to gently tuck some hair behind your ear. He’d throw the covers back over you both as he kissed his way slowly down your bare stomach, still feeling somewhat exposed even though you were the only two people present. Settling his face between your legs, he looks up at you with his large eyes as he works on you with his mouth, stopping just before you reach your climax. He’d make his way slowly back up your body, professing his love for you between each kiss to your exposed skin. His lips finally meeting with yours, tongues clashing as he pushed himself into you almost agonisingly slowly. His pace picking up slightly as he feels you begin to clench around him, his increasingly strained moans being swallowed by your mouth until he pulls away for breath. Your orgasm washing over you both as he stills inside you, remaining there together, catching your breath for what feels like an eternity. He flops over to lay beside you, pulling you into his embrace, his chin resting atop your head “I dont wanna get up...we can just stay in bed today, right?”

Yanan: His alarm was sounding in the background as he pulled his hands away from your body for a second to silence it “Don’t worry about it, I don’t mind being a bit late” he muttered as he brought his hands back to their position on your ass. His eyes return to their fixed spot on your chest, watching intently as you bounced on top of him. His eyes would start to flutter back closed, snapping open every time you moved on him in a way that sent jolts of electricity surging through his body. His breaths getting faster and higher in pitch the longer you remain on top of him. He pulls himself to sit up so you're in his lap, wrapping his long arms around your torso as you grind your hips against his. Your fingers finding purchase on his broad shoulders, digging your nails in slightly as he starts to thrust up to meet your hips with his. A long whine of your name signals his impending orgasm as he spills inside you, pulling you both down so his back is on the bed with your chest flush against his, a few final thrusts from him tips you over the edge as he holds you still against him. With his breath still shaky he looks up to meet your eyes “I’m already late...why dont I just take the whole day off...?” 

Yuto: Having you ride him in the morning is honestly Yuto’s favourite way to start his day. The sunlight breaking through the gap in the curtains casting shadows on your body, the sounds of the world waking up around you whilst being none the wiser about what was happening in this room. It made him feel on top of the world. His low morning voice guiding you through every move you made, giving you encouragement with every swivel of your hips “Fuck, just like that, princess” he says through gritted teeth, eyebrows knitted together “What did I ever do to deserve you” The second he found himself moving closer to orgasm, he wraps his arms around you and flips you both over so he now above you and has full control over the pace. He grabs your legs, throwing them over his shoulders as he increases the speed to his usual fast pace. Now that you’d fully awoken him, sleepy soft Yuto’s words of praise were replaced with stern remarks designed to push you over the edge “You just couldn't wait for me could you” “You really needed me first thing in the morning didn’t you, you naughty girl” He sucks hickeys into your chest as he thrusts himself into you over and over, a low growl coming from deep within his chest as he cums, working his fingers over your clit at an unholy speed, helping you reach your high alongside him. He lets out a quiet low giggle as he comes back to his bashful self, uttering a quiet “good morning baby” into your neck.

Hyunggu (Kino): Hyunggu’s sleeping form would be sprawled out across your own; his legs tangled with your own and his face buried in your neck. Thinking he was still asleep, you attempt to slide out from under him before feeling his lips press against the soft skin of your neck "good morning baby” he says with a groan “don't get up just yet" the neediness in his voice audible as he shifts himself so his face is centimetres from yours. He’d be surprisingly intense, given that the both of you had not long woken up. His kisses would be strong and fervent, his hands moving quickly down your body, past the waistband of your underwear. But there was still a gentleness to his touches. A softness in his eyes that let you know how how much he treasured getting to wake up beside you, to see you like this first thing in the morning. His movements are fluid and soft, but still hit the same magical spot he managed to on any other day; even half asleep Hyunggu truly knew your body like nobody else. Feeling himself get closer and closer, he moves his hand down your body until he reaches your heat, his thumb beginning to rub slow circles on your clit, trying to help you to reach your peak together. He watches for the signs that your orgasm is fast approaching, which he recognises well; suddenly increasing the speed tenfold for only a few seconds until he feels your walls clench around him. Resting his sweat covered forehead against your own he pulls his face away from yours “...shower?”

Wooseok: Your hand rests on his chest as you open your eyes to him quietly calling your name. He takes your smaller hand inside his and guides it down his body until you feel how hard he is inside his sweats, to which he looks at you with his big doe eyes “gimme a hand?” You begin to slink your body down his large frame, kissing his stomach as you go, only for him to stop you half way “no...not like that. I need you fully” his low voice sending shivers down your spine. He crawls on top of you, trapping you within his long limbs. He winces and his breath catches in his throat as you raise you leg, your knee brushing against his sensitive length. He kicks off his sweats and discards of any clothes of yours getting between him and your core. He pushes himself into you slowly, letting you adjust fully before continuing “you good?” his low, sleep filled voice asks before pulling himself almost all the way out. Your hands grab onto him, holding his biceps firmly as he moves in and out of you, your nails leaving small crescent shapes in his skin. His thrusts get more and more sporadic as his high approaches quickly, he was already half way there before you’d even woken now he was finding it harder to hold on much longer. He pulls out quickly, replacing his cock with his fingers as he helps you chase your high. He works you through your orgasm, your grip on his arms getting tighter as you cum on his fingers. “Fuck...thank you baby...I really needed that” he says with a sigh as he falls back onto the bed, eyes falling back closed.

[willadisastercry]

Keith relapsing and not being able to stop once he starts... pt 2

(((( Once again: please, please, please read the trigger warnings and proceed with caution before reading this. I vividly describe Keith’s internal struggle after he relapses... if anything even remotely regarding self harming or someone discovering a person who has is sensitive to you I HIGHLY RECOMMEND YOU DONT READ ))))

tw: in depth depiction of acting on self harm ideations/urges, scars, relapsing, becoming ill from blood loss, someone discovering a person after they relapse, rationalizing their self harm because the alternative is suicide, contradicting oneself and later very much deciding they would rather be unalived, panic attack symptoms, reopening a wound, allusion to surgery (stitches)

Keith is still very out of it after having a full fledged panic attack and the last thing he wants is to invite another spectator into the mix to watch him devolve further. So Shiro agrees to do something he hasn’t had to do in a very long time... courtesy of his battlefield medicine training.

Also again... YES klance and NO klance. You can interpret it however but their questioningly less and less ‘no homo’ behavior uh certainly ramps up and I suggest that they’ve had certain discussions/interactions before... definitely still not the main focus of this fic but there for context bc it just happened that way.

Part 1 / Part 2

The tension in the air was palpable as it hung on all of them. Lance watched Shiro’s entire body visibly relax, the grimace on his face the only tell that he was working through something in his mind, remembering something unpleasant.

Keith’s wimper pulled both boys back after a minute of terrible silence.

Several of the hardest cuts to close had broken free of the glue that held them and were gushing steadily. Keith was paling by the minute as he continued to breathe rapidly and tremble as if he was cold despite the sweat on his forehead.

He just wanted this to be over. To finally be asleep where at least then he could pretend that it had never actually happened and it was just a horrible dream.

Without saying anything more Shiro pressed the bandage back to his side and moved Lance’s hand to hold pressure there while he stood up and scanned the room, his eyes landing on Keith’s towel. It was hardly even damp then with how much time had passed since Keith had finished his shower.

“Keith, I know you’re not going to want me to,” he started with his jaw set as he pulled Keith towards him for a moment to lay the towel beneath him despite his meager protests.

“...but I have to tell Coran so that he can—“

He stopped when Keith let out a desperate whine as he released his hand from his mouth to tug on Shiro’s arm, his fingers digging in like he was trying to anchor them to something so he didn’t drift away as his chest started working double time.

“No. You can’t! You’re n-not t-tell-telling him.”

“Keith, I know that this is—“

“No, you dont,” Keith rasped, “you d-don’t know anything and you c-can-can’t tell Coran.”

The fear in his wide eyes was enough to make Lance want to cry for the umpteenth time that night, his chest hitching painfully as he pleaded with Shiro, getting himself more worked up as he did.

“Calm down, buddy. You know how this works. You know we have to get you fixed up.”

He shook his head back and forth as Shiro tried to rationalize with him.

“Keith,” he paused with a lengthy sigh because the last thing he wanted was to do something that Keith didn’t want him to do.

“Keith it’s bad. You need stitches, we have to.”

His purple saucers met Shiro’s grey pinpoints for a long moment, fear and desperation glistening in Keith’s and making Shiro want to pull him up into a bone crushing embrace.

“Then y-you do it...” he all but whispered through a heave as he tried to take in enough air to satisfy the ache in his chest so he could talk.

“Ke—“

“You’ve d-done-done i-it-it before Sh-Sh-Shi—fuck. P-please, j-j-ju-just-just-j—“

“Okay,” Shiro agreed, his voice pitching higher as he tried to assuage the budding panic evident in Keith’s anguished expression and worsening trembling.

“Hey, it’s okay. I will. Shhh, I will.”

He repeated the words religiously after Keith began to choke on his own, his face reeling with frustration when the full body trembling made him unable to get a proper sentence out and the effort of trying sent him spiraling further.

Shiro carded his hand through Keith’s still damp hair as his hands rose back up to his face, his feet kicking against the bed as the terrible dropping feeling worked its way through his stomach, gasping as it did. Lance watched in horror as Shiro tried to comfort him but any point of contact made Keith struggle harder.

He absolutely hated being so vulnerable, so reliant on others in such a fragile state. He knew he sorely needed the affection but his body instinctively cringed away from their touches, at war with itself as his mind lied to him, told him he was pathetic for needing such a thing. Another part wanting to melt into even the faintest brush against his shuddering body. All while feeling the consequences of losing a pretty descent amount of blood, the loss fogging his mind to a point that made it immeasurably harder to not succumb to panic, especially since he was still bleeding.

It was truly the perfect storm and he hated every second of it.

His lungs felt like they were being dripped dry of every ounce of oxygen in them as the phantom sensation of spinning returned and disordered his heaving breaths further as he fought the urge to vomit. The bone deep exhaustion seemed to be rather helpful then, the physical symptoms of his anxiety fizzling out in minutes as he quite literally just lacked the faculties to accommodate them.

“I’m right here, Keith,” Shiro assured when his grip on his arm tightened and then wavered as he began to sink back into the mattress, his hands settling restlessly on his chest as they shook.

“That’s it, you’re alright.”

Shiro griped his shoulder securely now, the metal of his prosthetic arm weighing with an oddly pleasant pressure on Keith as his whole body shook still.

Closing his eyes seemed a tad less dangerous once he could breathe somewhat regularly again and the intense dizziness had somewhat dissipated. They were also swollen like hell and heavy from all the crying so shutting them became less of an active choice then as well.

Lance’s hand moved to his leg after a beat, just to peek and make sure that those wounds hadn’t met a similar fate. He watched as Shiro’s face dropped when he saw the second wrapping, swallowing thickly and shifting where he sat on the edge of the bed to speak to Lance.

“Will you get him to eat something while I go grab a few things?”

He nodded and made his way to the forgotten tray of snacks he’d nabbed as Shiro took off for supplies. The sobbing had died down after the climax of his panic did but the tears didn’t seem to ever dry up, evident from the sniffling every few minutes as he tried to clear his airways.

“Hey,” Lance nudged his arm where it had moved to cover his blotchy face again, “why don’t you sit up a little, gotta eat something...”

He didn’t even try, just shook his head.

“N-nauseous,” he stuttered, the shaking impossibly infuriating as he tried to relax enough to do anything other than cry.

“Hmmm, well you could also have juice, I can water it down a little. That sound doable?”

He just sighed and Lance took his indifference as a ‘whatever’ and went ahead anyway, nudging him again when he had a modified juice pouch for him.

“You don’t have to sit up all the way, there’s a straw,” Lance noted when Keith tried to raise himself up on shaking arms before they gave out. He grunted defeatedly and tried to scooch back on bent elbows and sit up that way but found he didn’t have the core strength then to do that either.

“Here, what if I...” Lance mused with a shy smile as he moved to pull Keith up enough to slide in behind him, bringing the pouch up to his lips where his now propped up head rested securely in the crook of his arm, still racked by tremors but seemingly more at ease with the contact.

“That better?”

Keith didn’t answer, just sucked on the straw of the pouch like he was dying of dehydration. By the time he’d finished the pouch Shiro was walking through the automatic door with a whoosh that startled Keith, his breathing picking back up as he nestled his head further into Lance’s arm like he was trying to hide under it.

“He finished some juice,” Lance stated proudly as Shiro laid out the haul of medical supplies he brought back.

“That’s good, something solid would be better though. Hm, how bout the bread?” Shiro asked, walking back over to the tray and picking up a roll from the batch Hunk had made with a type of alien wheat they’d found.

Keith grumbled but took it from Shiro’s outstretched hand because he knew that he wouldn’t be able to win that debate, but more because he knew what was coming next and he wanted that more than anything.

“What?! You just give in for Shiro but with me it’s like pulling teeth? I’m offended, mullet. Deeply offended,” Lance scoffed and Keith made a noise as he bit into the bread begrudgingly.

“It’s not personal, he just knows not to be stubborn unless he wants to be awake while I stitch him up.”

Lance’s heart sunk impossibly further into his chest because Shiro had fully found him like that before... and done this exact thing after. This wasn’t new to either of them.

God he wanted to cry too.

Once Keith had made a sizeable dent in the roll from the dinner he’d missed Shiro handed him three pills of which Lance assumed were some variant of a sleep aid that took him a while to swallow with how choppy he was breathing still. The high sort of buzz had never really gone away and only worsened when his anxiety took over, leaving him both feeling floaty and trapped in a constant state of shaking.

Lance tried to comfort him now that he seemed more receptive to being touched, tracing light circles on the shoulder not tucked against him and leaving his other hand out where he could reach it in case he needed something to squeeze.

In the time being Shiro had set up a sterile tray for what looked like a literal fish hook and a whole bunch of gauze. Oh, jeez. Lance wasn’t sure he could stomach watching and tried to manifest being able to just hold Keith in his arms while Shiro worked, ya know for moral support. For Keith obviously.

“How ya doing? Tired yet?” Shiro inquired as he continued to ready the tray, fiddling with bottles of medicine similar to what Lance had used before.

“Mhmm, getting... sleepy,” he slurred, his trembling dying down a bit as the medicine helped his body relax.

“Good,” Shiro let out a hollow laugh at the way he sounded like a kid again, “Lance will you let me know when he’s out?”

The altean medicine was working quickly, aided by the fact that he was already utterly spent and leaving his eyes fluttering as his breathing evened out. He didn’t want to fall asleep still worked up or he’d probably be restless, maybe even come to and be more disoriented than before. So he dragged out the relief of slowly being pulled to sleep by the flick of Lance’s fingers on his arm, forcing his eyes to remain open as long as he could manage.

“Yep, shouldn’t be long,” Lance noted when Keith let out a hissing yawn and turned his face towards Lance’s chest, his cheek resting against the squishiest part he could find and making Lance stifle a gasp.

Keith wasn’t known for being cuddly and the gesture, though not really a conscious one, made Lance’s stomach flutter. He wasn’t able to dwell on it long though because Shiro was addressing him again.

“Can you pinch his arm...?”

Lance obliged and Keith didn’t make a sound.

“Perfect, okay, you won’t get squeamish will you?”

“Uh... glue is a bit different than a needle but even that sort of freaked me out.”

“Alright then, you can clean and dissolve what opened up while I handle what’s already free,” Shiro determined as he ushered the familiar supplies closer to Lance.

He took up the needle which was already threaded and sighed heavily before pulling Keith’s desk chair flush up against the bed.

“Help me get him more on his side.”

They managed to by Lance pulling him by the shoulders and more onto his lap as Shiro pushed.

Shiro breathed deeply then, something in his eyes flickering as he removed the soaked through bandage from the younger boy’s hip. His entire side coated again, the skin visibly raised and puffy.

Lance took up the wound wash and showed it to Shiro who nodded, bringing the towel up to catch the excess liquid as he poured. Once he’d sopped up what had bled again Shiro started with the widest gash, the hardened glue was easy to pull off with how horribly it had been secured over such a large area. Lance looked elsewhere, focusing on removing the glue from the other reopened wounds.

Shiro operated like a robot after that, known quite literally for a precise hand but what happened next took that generalization to a whole other level. His fingers moved swiftly, tying off stitches almost faster than Lance could wash out the gashes but definitely quicker than he could remove the blue tinted glaze. He had to scrub and scrape at the substance from the open wounds, the bloody mess they’d become making the task harder than it ought to have been.

In actuality only a few had reopened, but they were also the deepest. Some of them took upwards of five stitches, others two or three. The proximity of them to each other, especially to ones that were still glued, made it difficult for Shiro to figure out where to place the needle.

They were done after ten or so minutes but when Shiro sat back to analyze his work, he frowned.

“What’s up?” Lance questioned dubiously.

Shiro didn’t answer, just brought his hand down to examine the glue that was barely holding about a dozen more wounds together. They’d grown darker, the amount of red beneath the generous amount of blue visibly greater than the lesser wounds as more blood gathered and threatened to burst out as well.

“Some of these look like they’re about to go too, they haven’t clotted. I don’t think they’d heal right if I don’t stitch them up, they’d leave worse, uh—worse scars.”

Lance nodded transfixedly, not sure if his heart could take hearing more things like that, more direct acknowledgments of how one of his best friends had hurt himself so badly... how it hadn’t been the first time... how he couldn’t make sure it was the last if even Shiro had failed to.

“-nce. Lance, hey, don’t let me lose you now. I need you to work on dissolving the rest of the glue,” Shiro said, his tone gentle again as he brought Lance back from the depths of his weary mind.

“Right,” he affirmed more for himself as he brought the dissolving liquid back down while Shiro rethreaded his needle.

Opening a just about to burst wound was admittedly a lot harder on Lance’s stomach than freeing one that had already. There was so much more blood because when he was done with one side it’d spring open and pool immediately as he fought to dissolve the rest before it spilled out and got everywhere.

Both of them were coated then, the only saving grace that kept Lance’s nerves at bay was Shiro having the forethought to have them both wear gloves, but that just made it seem like a literal operation. And with the amount of black threading Keith back together it was seeming more like one each horrible minute it droned on.

Shiro had lost his vest and jacket somewhere around the third time he had to rethread his needle, Lance’s discarded too after some time, both of them uncomfortably warm as they poured over stitching Keith back together.

Oh, oh god.

That did it for him.

Lance huffed shakily and turned his head away as he nearly lost it again over how much he wished he could do more than just help heal his wounds, he wanted to mend every one of his broken pieces, put the parts of him back together that you couldn’t see.

He couldn’t stand the thought of slapping a bandage on what had happened and ever going about normally again.

“Lance...”

Shiro looked at him with sorry eyes, wanting to hug him as he blinked back tears but Keith was very much preventing that from being possible.

“I’m okay, sorry—it’s just a lot.”

“I know. We’re almost done if that helps, just need to finish up on this one and then I want to take a quick look at his leg,” Shiro offered as he got back to the gash that was almost closed.

“It wasn’t as bad, only a few were deep,” Lance noted, his eyes glossy as they stared at Shiro’s busy hands, not even registering the way they pulled on Keith’s skin as they tied off the last knot.

Shiro nodded, sneaking a worried glance over at Lance who didn’t meet his gaze as he finished applying an ungodly amount of tape over top the gauze he’d put on the area. He then manhandled Keith’s leg so he could get at his thigh.

Lance looked down at his arms. There wasn’t much blue of the medical gloves on his hands showing, blood smeared past even that and up his arms. He hurriedly yanked at them, peeling one off within the other and folding the outer one over itself.

“Just toss it, I’ll clean this all up later.”

Shiro suggested noticing how dangerously close Lance was to unraveling and hoping to delay it until he could actually help.

He was right though, only a handful required stitches and half as many as the ones on his hip had needed at that. Shiro was done in record time, taking over Lance’s job of removing the glue and cleaning up the mess that followed, finishing by wrapping a thicker bandage around his leg and taping it in place.

When Shiro finally sat back and started to clean up he was dimly aware that Lance was silently crying and had scooted further down the bed to hold Keith more securely in his arms. Though he was definitely out he had never fully stopped shaking, but now it seemed more like a nervous system response to the nowhere near healthy amount of blood he’d lost. Lance moved his hands up and down his arm in attempt to soothe him anyway.

Shiro brought the throw blanket at the foot of the bed over the two of them after he’d removed all of the trashed medical supplies from it. Lance’s eyes had fluttered shut but were open now.

“He shouldn’t be up anytime soon but you look wiped, figured you’d want to stay...”

He nodded absently, eyes bleary but understanding as Shiro moved about the room for a little before sitting down at the foot of the bed.

“I’ll handle talking to him about all this tomorrow but in the case that he isn’t entirely dead to the world when the morning drill alarm goes off, tell him that he is not only excused but barred from training and piloting Red until his stitches are out.”

Lance just nodded again and yawned, pulling the blanket over the rest of his upper body.

“And Lance... “

He eyed Lance with a sort of fondness then.

“I know how fucked up tonight was, it couldn’t have been easy. You didn’t have to help him, you could’ve just gotten me, but you did. And I don’t know what kind of headspace he’ll be in when he wakes up but I do know he’ll be grateful you were there for him... even if he has a funny way of showing it.”

The lump in Lance’s throat bobbed threateningly, his eyes stinging again as he whispered a meak ‘thanks’ as Shiro stood up and leaned closer to ruffle his perfect hair before he turned to leave, shutting the lights off before he did.

[countesskittymeow]

And here we are for episode two. Couldn't watch it last night cz my kid woke up xD anywho, first thoughts, Im kinda digging this green and gold marvel logo a lot more than the boring red one xD

Mind control? Evil Loki Variant does mind control. I wonder if this Variant ever faced Thanos. Also! They used the song! Its one of my favourite songs!!! Now i wanna sing along but unfortunately I can't because my kid is asleep and I dont want to wake her up in the middle of the night. I do wonder why the variant kept the hot commander alive unlike all the other attacks

Why does the TVA have such a retro vibe?

Loki definitely wants everyone to know how awesome he is.

There used to be a HULK LOKI??? Also the look on Loki's face 🤣

The one after the hulk is just... I honestly don't have words to describe that one.. just wut???

I love the geeky Loki telling them about the nuances of magic (Im already creating a headcanon that this is an act and he's only showing them what they want to see i.e. an eager to please, slightly duplicitous version of Loki who wants them to know he's super useful to keep around)

Professor Loki. I do like the sound of that even if I suddenly flashed back to all of the harry potter crossover fics i used to read where Loki became a teacher at Hogwarts.

Mobius just gave Loki an answer from Doctor Who!!! Well sorta like that, not the same one but its all wibbly wobbly timey whimey stuff!

Loki is making his attempts at manipulation very very obvious and somewhat desperate. I'm really really reallllllly hoping this is an act. Come on writer people dont make me regret my decision to watch this show. I really wanna love it but I'm in that once bitten twice shy boat regarding the handling of his character so I'm either gonna come out of this series absolutely loving it orrrrrr I'm gonna hate it FOREVER and happily live in my headcanons.

It was an act! We finally see the real Loki! There is hope for this show yet!

Also the way his voice goes from the higher pitched eager to please tone to that deeper, slightly sinister yet 'i know I'm powerful and you should fear me' tone was fun to see.

This had better still be an act. He's supposed to be awesome at playing the long game.

He got shushed! So he shushed her back!

So wait... The total population on Asgard less than 10,000? Really?

Yeah Loki. Stabbing people in the back is boring. Stab them in the face! Much more fun that way.

Total Doctor Who vibes! They went to Pompeii! Ohhh imagine how fun it would be to see Doctor and Donna strolling somewhere in the background. Not that that would happen but now its my new headcanon and you'll have to stab me in the face to pry this headcanon from my claws xD

Loki, I'm loving your enthusiasm but the word Volcano was coined AFTER Pompeii's destruction. I doubt they know what you're talking about 😂 also, there's a volcano 'splodin! In the background, where the hell are the earthquakes?

Magic lizards. Loki really has a way with naming things doesn't he

Existence is chaos. Loki is the god of chaos. Since in algebra if a=b and b=c then a=c=a SO Loki is the god of existence and the variant Loki has already reached that conclusion so now the magic space lizards are feeling threatened by variant loki's potential and they want the variant dead to keep being the most powerful magic space lizards inside and outside of existence! Guys! I've just solved this season's plotline. If I don't live react to the remaining series episodes, know that I was found by you know who and taken for giving out spoilers.

Mobius: You're very clever!

Loki: and that surprises you? O_o

Asgard getting destroyed was a class seven apocalypse but the thin in 2050 is a level ten? I wonder how these classifications work.

The grin! The grin! They're both doing the grin!

You guys mean to tell me that NONE of the product packagings or designs have been altered or upgraded in thirty years? Dove, Axe, Vaseline, Tresseme, its all literally the same as the stuff I saw on the shelves at the grocers this week 🤣 i know it's a minor thing but I find that kinda hilarious.

Whyyyyyyy does Loki keep getting knocked around so much. Also, why isn't he using any magic. Grrrr... I find this most displeasing

She blond?!? Why is she blond??

Poor Mobius. I feel kinda sorry for him tbh.

And that's wrap on this episode. Still having mixed feelings about the series. There are parts that I like and then there are parts which keep bugging me. I'm not familiar with the various plotlines in the comics so I dunno whatever happened in those to the Loki though I find it interesting that Lady Loki (why is she blonddddd??? Why not make her a redhead instead? Loki was a redhead in most of the depictions pre-avengers, wasn't he?) has that broken horn on her headpiece like that one version from the comics.