#but nope all settled in one episode

[misterbaritone]

That third episode of Scott Pilgrim got me thinkin thinkin

[rpfofficial]

character wrapped 2023 💥

tagged by @davidtennantpussytulpa ^-^ i didn't know how many to do so i copied tara and did top 10. i know the severance guys are Four Of Them but i can't separate them theyre all equally important to me

will graham (hannibal), em haywood (nope), aziraphale (good omens), mark & dylan & helly & irving (severance), hawkeye pierce (mash), martha jones (doctor who), ivan karamazov (the brothers karamazov), kim kitsuragi (disco elysium), stewy hosseini (succession), ruescott melshi (andor/rogue one)

i will tag... @fagician @britomart @libraryfag @roadwhores @majorbaby @globuspolski @hadleyfraserfaggot @tenderscience if u want to ^-^

[lay-z]

Kinda kinky, but made it domestic and fluffy. (I guess, idk...) Also, very long for some reason, sorry. MINORS, DNI! 18+ !!! Pairing: F!Reader x Simon 'Ghost' Riley Warnings/Info: Established relationship; domesticity; fluff; consensual smut; masturbation kink; praise kink; some dirty talk; explicit language; cussing

It's Friday evening, barely past 8 pm, inside your apartment in the private 141 apartment complex on base.

After a late dinner – homemade lasagna with fresh ingredients, because you always thrive to get something proper other than MRE's into Simon's and your own system – you and your boyfriend are sprawled out on your large deep brown leather couch.

Cuddling, resting, and relaxing after a tough week of training and "important" briefings on duty.

The atmosphere is filled with contentment and coziness, while the delicious smell of lasagna and the fresh shower steam wafting into the open living space from the nearby bathroom, still linger in your shared apartment. The lights are off, except for the vanilla-scented candle you’ve lit on the white sideboard and the flickering lights of the TV screen illuminating the spacious room.

With the both of you now suffering from a food coma, Simon is laying on his broad back, taking up nearly all of the couches’ space. One muscular arm tucked behind his head on the armrest casually, the other hand playing with a few strands of your hair on the back of your head, his eyes half-lidded and glued to the large flat TV mounted on the opposite wall, currently playing the first episode of Band of Brothers, after you two had finally settled on something to watch – something you'd both enjoy.

Meanwhile, you're laying between his spread thighs, draped over him with your cheek resting on his lower stomach, your right hand rubbing slow, soothing circles over his lax abs with your flat palm and tracing the many faded scars while his tight black shirt is rucked up to his chest; his belly now slightly round and full, sporting a food baby, and thus not as hard and ripped as it usually is.

You can hear his stomach work as your ear presses against his pale skin, his gut already processing the food and sounding like a bunch of whale calls while his strong heartbeat fades into the background noise like a steady drum. It's an odd concoction of sounds, and you swiftly find yourself paying more attention to your boyfriend's bodily functions than your favorite war show playing on TV.

"What's so funny, eh? We're laughin’ at WWII now?" Simon asks eventually after your second quiet snicker to yourself, his deep voice sounding gruff and heavy with beginning fatigue, though it still carries that familiar dry, deadpan humor of his.

"Nope. Nothing," you reply with another breathy chuckle, patting and caressing his lower abdomen reassuringly. Perhaps a little bit too close to his crotch this time.

The sudden movement makes his muscles flex below your palm, and a low groan escapes Simon's slightly parted lips and both actions immediately trigger something within you, like a house cat being taunted by its owner moving their hand below a blanket.

"Don't... don't do that, luv," he chides you gently, cupping his free hand over yours to keep it still on his stomach, "Gimme another good thirty minutes, and I'll rock yer world." Simon tells you, stifling a yawn.

While he keeps your ministrations at bay with his mammoth hand, you prop yourself up on your other elbow with a small pout before you wordlessly begin peppering wet and hot kisses along his belly, down to his naval and lower abdomen, inhaling his masculine scent greedily while your nose nearly digs into his milky, scarred skin.

"Bloody hell, lass – don't, I –" Simon protests half-heartedly, sucking in a sharp breath, before another low groan slips past his lips as he shifts his body beneath you.

"Watch the damn TV and let me do my thing.” You mutter against his skin, though there is no bite behind your words, only teasing and affection – and burning determination. You two didn’t have any time nor strength for sex all week and you suddenly feel like making up for it now.

A low grumble vibrates in his chest in return and you know he wants to object again, but then he doesn't, because Simon is low-key just as horny as you are – he was just trying to be mindful, thinking you’re too tired to engage in anything sexual with him tonight.

"Always so goddamn bossy when we're alone," he mutters instead, clicking his tongue in mock exasperation, though a small smirk tugs at the corner of his scarred mouth.

“C’mere then, lovey,” he murmurs in his deep, gravelly voice, swiftly pulling his black T-shirt over his head and letting it fall down on the fluffy carpet next to the couch haphazardly, before he audibly pats his now bared chest in silent command with the hand that was previously tucked behind his head.

He needs to feel your lips on his first; ease in to this slowly before he might come too quickly; it’s been a week after all and Simon is only now realizing how tight his balls are.

However, you shake your head with a cheeky smirk, nuzzling the tip of your nose into the coarse dark hair of his thin happy trail, feeling his muscles flex at the sweet touch, before lifting your head to gaze up at him through your lashes.

“I wanna suck you off, baby. Can I?” You ask in a sultry purr, almost innocently, batting your eyelashes at him as you tug on the waistband of his grey sweats, pulling at it playfully before letting it snap back against his skin.

A rough groan escapes Simon as he watches you play with the thick hem of his pants and he already knows, despite his stamina, it will be a quick first round tonight; he’s way too sensitive and you know exactly what to do to drive him wild with lust. That familiar heat of arousal is already pooling into his gut and making his blood rush south.

“If I say no, what’re ye gonna do, hm?” He counters gruffly, biting back a sly smirk; his dark eyes fixated on yours, burning and molten and filled with desire and curiosity – because he rarely denies you anything, if ever.

“Maybe I’ll just do it myself,” he adds after a beat of silence, “Make myself feel good.”

Simon can practically watch how you process, assess, analyze his words in the span of mere seconds, but then your pupils dilate comically large, like a cartoon characters, and a foreign look appears on your face, one he’s never seen before. His heartbeat accelerates and he grunts lowly as you push yourself off his stomach to sit back on your haunches between his spread legs while the soft leather of the couch creaks and shifts as you move.

“Okay,” you retort in a breathy, deadpan voice, your eyes never leaving his, “I’ll watch.”

Simon instinctively shifts on the couch as well, propping his large upper body up in a reclined sitting position when he hears that you mean business. His dark eyebrows raise slightly at your unexpected reaction – the fact that his joke-proposition seems to excite you so immensely. His cock twitches and throbs inside his boxer briefs in return.

His eyes roam over your curves briefly, noticing how your braless breasts rise and fall with heavier yet slow breaths, nipples already peaking behind the fabric of your tight black crop top. You’re clearly aroused and Simon is sure he can smell you already, sweet, slick and warm and, most importantly, all his.

A pleased growl rumbles through his buff chest, until he remembers what exactly made you react this extremely.

"Yer into that?" He asks incredulously, brows drawing together in disbelief and curiosity, though if he's honest with himself, Simon is not surprised in the slightest.

You always encourage him to be more vocal in bed, make sounds, let loose. The dirtier, the better. Plus points if he sounds like a goddamn caveman claiming you; grunting and groaning in your ear while his fat cock is buried inside your tight cunt up to the hilt. You always love that.

"Yes," you answer curtly, squirming in your seat already. "I used to watch blokes jerk off and fuck their pocket pussies all the time on the Hub. Looked up the biggest, buffest lad and imagined you being the one doing it." You confess bluntly, a wicked smirk creeping on your lips as his big doe eyes grow even wider.

"Pff, seriously?"

Simon tries not to show it too obviously, but that is, hands down, the hottest and most flattering admission you've ever shared with him. Gods, he bloody loves your bluntness.

"Yes, sir." You nod enthusiastically while he snorts and rolls his eyes in mock annoyance.

You only ever call him Sir off duty when there's a deeper meaning behind it – a plan.

"So... you – you wanna see that, innit? Wanna watch me have a wank in front of you and look all pathetic while I could also just...fuck you properly instead?" Simon enquires with a hint of sarcasm, scratching the stubble at his chin as he studies your beautiful face appraisingly, still obviously hesitant about the whole idea.

"Uh-huh," You nod again, smiling at him with a certain twinkle in your eyes, like a child finally receiving a toy it always wanted but never dared to ask for. “Please.” You add for good measure, tilting your head to the side in a playful manner.

Simon quirks an eyebrow at you, his eyes flickering over your pretty features to make sure you're really not messing with him. He's never done that before; it has never occurred to him that anyone would want to see him do that.

Masturbating has always felt pathetic and awkward to him; it's a means to an end to him and especially those Combat Jack’s are the worst. Feel sad and horny, jerk off, feel sad and empty afterwards. Done deal.

But how can he ever deny you that particular pleasure when you've always been so good for him? So incredibly patient, caring, and loving despite all his flaws and issues; way before you've become a couple, even.

"Fine. I'll do it," he finally huffs gruffly, his own heart skipping a hard beat, his brows creasing together in a slight frown while he can't hide the obvious tent already sporting in the front of his sweatpants at the sight of your beaming smile and sparkling eyes after getting exactly what you want – again.

"But ye're not allowed to touch me...or yerself. Understood?"

Oh.

Your nostrils flare as you exhale sharply, drumming your fingertips along his clothed thighs as you narrow your eyes at him, pondering briefly.

"Yeah... okay... sounds like torture, but... the fun kind." You agree reluctantly, giving a small shrug, though you quickly notice that his strict order only fuels your growing arousal and excitement. It’ll be like watching your own personal porn after all.

Simon moves his knees then, a silent warning to get your hands off like you agreed to, and you retrieve your hands from his thighs with a tiny snarl that makes him chuckle darkly while you rest your palms on your own thighs instead.

“Be my good girl then and take yer top off, lovey. Show me yer pretty tits, yeah?”

Yet again, a violent shiver runs down your spine as soon as Simon gives you another order in that deep, gravelly voice of his and you don’t hesitate to obey his request – peeling off your tight crop top to reveal your breasts to him at once and dropping the piece of clothing next to the couch, your skin flushed with arousal and carnal desire for him.

“Like this?”

Simon hums deeply in approval, his pink tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip, like a wolf licking its chaps, while his whiskey-colored eyes darken and gleam an inky black as they drink in your gorgeous, bare upper body, now only illuminated by the soft candlelight and the flickering lights of the TV screen, still playing Band of Brothers. You look like an absolute goddess and his fingers itch to reach out and touch, flick his thumbs over your perky nipples just the way you like it, squeeze and grope your tits until you mewl with neediness.

But, alas, he doesn’t.

“Aye, just like that,” he grunts out, shifting and adjusting his position until he’s comfortable on the couch and has a good view on you. “Bloody perfect, you minx.” He adds thickly in a low murmur.

And then, without a further word, Simon finally hooks his right thumb into the waistband of his sweats and boxer briefs and tugs both fabrics down until the stretchy waistbands are snug taut below his balls, right at his taint, adding some pressure to the sensitive spot. He grunts when his large cock springs free from its confinement and rests on his lower stomach, a droplet of pearly pre-cum leaking onto his dark happy trail from his blushing tip, making your mouth water on sight and a breath hitch in your throat.

The musky scent of his arousal hits your nose, and it takes all of your trained willpower not to pounce on him. No, this is special. You can't ruin it with your impatience.

There's a slight grimace on his ruggedly handsome face when he simply grabs his shaft, then his right mammoth hand wraps around his girth completely. It almost looks painful to you, but Simon bites his cheek and fights the immediate shudder of pleasure running down his spine at his own rough touch, giving himself a few slow, tight strokes.

"You're a dry guy?" You ask curiously, scrunching your nose up in surprise. You always use some kind of lube when you give him a nice hand job.

"Huh? Yeah?" Simon's eyes flicker from his throbbing cock to your eyes, then swiftly back again, shrugging his broad shoulders before stilling briefly, then he clicks his tongue in annoyance.

Great, now he feels like he's doing it wrong; something he's been doing to himself for years. It’s not his fault that his calloused hands cannot compare to your soft ones anymore and that you’ve completely spoiled him with your gentle yet firm touch; you’ve utterly ruined him for himself at this point.

“Mhm,” you hum appraisingly, practically buzzing with pent-up arousal as you squirm in your seat between his spread legs again and feel the fabric of your thong rub between your slick folds and against your pulsating clit in delicious torture.

“Spit in your fist, baby,” you advise him then, your own mouth filling with saliva at the sheer thought, completely self-conditioned, “Enjoy it for me. Relax.”

Simon nearly groans at your words, but suppresses the wanton sound again, all to your disapproval.

“Fuck –“ He grunts through clenched teeth, nostrils flaring as he's already crumbling beneath your smoldering gaze and bratty pout.

The urge to just pinch your pretty nipples in retaliation and grab you by the nape of your neck like a disobedient kitten, only to make your plump lips spread and open up over his needy cock, is becoming more unbearable by the second.

Eventually, Simon lifts his right hand, because he does want to put on a show for you, and spits into his rough palm generously.

The sudden choked whimper that spills from your lips at the lewd gesture of his makes it all worth it, tough, and Simon lets out a guttural moan this time, when he cups his leaking tip with his slicked up fist and twists his wrist for more friction.

“This good enough for you, luv?” He manages to ask in between guttural grunts and deep, deliberate breaths.

Meanwhile, you don’t even know where or what to look at as your feral eyes try to drink in and process this whole scene in front of you – his flushed cheeks, glazed eyes, how his abs and the muscles in his chest and arms ripple and flex with each heavy breath and movements, the way he works on his long, girthy cock for you. It’s still such a rare sight for you – seeing him this open and vulnerable.

If Simon would let you, you’d record and safe all of it for later.

“Yes,” you breathe out in return, voice hoarse and thick with lust and need, utterly captivated and amazed by his performance. “God, yes, baby. You look so fucking sexy right now.”

Your praise sends a jolt of hot, searing pleasure straight to his cock while Simon keeps fucking into his rough fist and his breath stutters briefly as he tries to maintain his fervent rhythm, muttering curses under his breath.

When his head lolls back against the armrest while a husky groan tears itself from his throat and his hips buck up into his own hand instinctively, right in front of you, you have to take several deep breaths to keep yourself seated on your haunches and, simultaneously, from reaching out to him – even though it’d be so easy to just…join him, perhaps fondle his balls and increase the pleasure.

Letting out another whimpery moan at the thought, your own fingers are now digging into the fabric of your gym leggings on your thighs, fidgeting and twitching restlessly while you move and roll your hips desperately, trying to find some release as your soaked thong keeps rubbing your swollen clit between your folds.

Simon can already feel how pathetically close he is and he knows it’s only because you’re watching him wank off right now, enjoying it – and praising him for it in that tooth-achingly sweet voice of yours, too.

It usually takes him so much longer to cum on his own, no matter how blue his balls are, but this is different – a good kind of different, and the tension in his lower stomach continues to rise at a rapid pace while he can barely hold eye-contact with your mesmerizing eyes when you’re looking at him like that, all aroused and needy with lust.

“’m close,” Simon huffs out, sounding like an angry bull as he bends one leg and puts the other foot down on the ground for leverage, readying himself for the inevitable.

“Play with yer tits for me, beautiful,” he requests through his clenched jaw as he watches you squirm through heavy-lidded eyes, “Help daddy come.”

“Oh…Fuck…” you practically gasp out as soon as you hear him calling himself that, and your head tilts back slowly with a breathy moan when your hands roam over your bare stomach sensually, up until they rest over your heavy breasts. You begin toying with yourself for him, groping and squeezing the supple flesh, tugging on your stiff nipples and rolling the sensitive buds between the pads of your fingers, until you’re panting for him like a bitch in heat.

While you’re playing with your tits like he asked you to, like the good, obedient girlfriend you are, Simon’s free hand finds its way slithering up his taut stomach, up his heaving chest, until it wraps around his own throat firmly, blunt nails digging into his scarred skin, tightening just enough to feel his own strong pulse flutter and thrum beneath his fingers, while he keeps stroking and fucking his cock into his tight fist with shameless vigor.

You and Simon moan simultaneously then – you at the sight of him choking himself suddenly, without warning, and he, because of all combined sensations bullying him to his peak all at once.

Eventually, his loud breathing keeps hitching, the vein in his temple protruding visibly as he keeps his grip around his throat, and your lips part with a wanton moan as you watch him climax, squeezing your tits harshly, as Simon’s balls tighten, eyes rolling back and fluttering shut and he finally comes with a guttural groan, spilling his thick, white release into his fist until it leaks and drips out from between his rough knuckles, making a mess on his lower belly.

“Fuckin’ hell, luv –“ Simon curses with a low chuckle, and swallows hard, still catching his breath as he releases his throat and lifts his head up from the armrest to look at you, feeling somewhat sheepish all of a sudden.

“That what you wanted?” He asks sarcastically, his voice all wrecked and gruff as he gestures at the mess on his stomach with his clean hand while his body keeps shuddering with aftershocks.

You need a moment to find your voice again, your heart still hammering against your ribcage just from watching him get off while your core is still fluttering and pulsing with want and a desperate need for attention.

“Y-yeah,” you admit with a few tiny nods, still blushing with arousal after heaving a deep sigh, “That was…perfect. You were bloody perfect, honey.” You utter another praise and watch his cheeks tint with a blush.

“Tsk,” Simon scoffs, shaking his head slightly, completely blissed out of his mind, “You better shut it, lass, and help me clean up this mess.” He grunts dismissively, though he’s grinning proudly.

“Gimme ten minutes, lovey.” He remarks with a wolfish smirk, the innuendo clear as he doesn't bother to tuck his half-hard cock back into his sweats, after you’ve retrieved some soft tissues from the box on the coffee table.

Making him cum now merely opened the floodgates, like shaking a champagne bottle and pulling the cork recklessly; his hunger for you has only been ignited and, boy, he is starving again, though not for your delicious lasagna this time.

When you hold out the tissues to him with an amused look, Simon grabs your wrist suddenly and hauls you on top of him again, up to his chest this time, wrapping one strong leg around your body securely to keep you caged in before he cups your cheek with his cum-slicked hand and finally captures your lips in a deep, sloppy kiss.

He knows you don't mind the mess.

[meazalykov]

play for the crowd

lauren james x english!influencer!reader : social media + fic

summary: a fake relationship never ends well.. or does it?

warnings: angst, very long chapter

for @pinkyqily + @jackiesunshines

“welcome back to ‘call her daddy,’ babes,” alex starts with her signature grin, leaning closer to the mic. 

“today, we’ve got the it-girl of england sitting across from me. she’s hilarious, she’s fashionable, she’s friends with basically everyone worth knowing—please give it up for y/n!!”

you laugh softly, adjusting your seating in the red fancy chair.

“oh, stop it. you’re hyping me up too much.”

“listen, i only speak the truth on this podcast,” alex replies dramatically, hands gesturing like she’s addressing an audience of thousands. 

“so, let’s just jump right in. your fashion—people are obsessed. i mean, half the girls listening are probably taking notes on your outfit right now as we speak.”

you smile, settling into your seat. 

“i feel like my style is a bit all over the place, to be honest. one day i’ll be in baggy streetwear, the next i’m in a full-on luxury brand look, then i’m in some scandi-inspired minimalism, and before you know it, i’m frolicking in a meadow in a cottagecore dress. i just wear whatever’s cute.”

“so, you’re telling me your closet must look insane.” alex leans forward, clearly intrigued.

“oh, it’s a disaster,” you admit with a laugh. 

“you know when people say, ‘if you can’t see it, you won’t wear it’? yeah, my clothes are in piles. i try to organize, but then i get new stuff, and it’s chaos all over again.”

“and yet you always look put together. how does that even work?”

“magic,” you joke, adjusting your oversized blazer. 

“or maybe just panic dressing.”

alex grins. 

“fair enough. okay, now—this is a call her daddy episode where i am the nosey host, so we have to get into your social life. you’ve got so many famous friends. who’s in your circle? who’s in the inner circle?”

you raise an eyebrow.

“you’re really trying to get the tea, huh?”

“always,” alex says without hesitation. 

“give us something.”

you smirk. 

“well, i’ve got a mix of people, you know? like, models, footballers, actors... it’s a weird little melting pot. i vibe with people who are chill and don’t take life too seriously.”

“what about jude bellingham?” alex’s grin widens, mischief sparkling in her eyes. 

“you’ve been seen with him quite a bit. are we finally getting confirmation here?”

your laugh is immediate, and you shake your head as you roll your eyes playfully. 

“oh my god, no no no absolutely not. jude is not my type at all.”

alex gasps theatrically. 

“wait, hold on. you’re telling me jude bellingham, literal dreamboat that maybe has a million edits of himself, is not your type? do you know how many women would kill for that chance?”

“i’m sure they would,” you reply, still laughing. 

“but, yeah, jude and i are just friends. strictly platonic. in fact, he’s hilarious.”

alex’s eyes narrow in mock suspicion. 

“so, what is your type, then?”

you pause for a moment, knowing the question is loaded. you take a breath, then grin. 

“well, just know that i don’t swing jude’s way.”

alex’s face lights up. 

“ohhh, so you’re into women?” her excitement is palpable.

“yeah,” you say, nodding firmly. 

“i mean, people have speculated for years, so… there you go. confirmed. i like women.”

“iconic,” alex replies, clapping her hands. 

“this is huge!!!! so, do you have a partner? because i feel like everyone’s going to be dying to know now.”

a weight sinks in your chest, but you plaster on a smile. you hate lying, but this is part of the game. 

“i do,” you say carefully, keeping your voice light. 

“but i’m not spilling anything just yet.”

“oh, come on,” alex pleads. 

“not even a little hint?”

you shake your head, laughing softly. 

“nope. but trust me, everyone will know who she is eventually.”

alex groans in mock defeat, throwing her head back. 

“you’re killing me, y/n. absolutely killing me.”

“i gotta keep some mystery, alex,” you tease. 

“otherwise, what’s the fun?”

y/n.l/n

{tagged: yourbsf}

liked by lj10, samanthakerr20, and 101,927 others

y/n.l/n hello 2025

view comments

y/nl/nluvr5 SO CUTE

yourbsf ily

ashley_lawrence10 pretty! 🤩

wosofan2719 why are all of the chelsea girls in her likes?? 🫣

user6282 I thought I was the only one who peeped

random12938 after her podcast with alex on friday, I am convinced y/n's girlfriend is known to the public already. you might be onto something since she is already close with english footballers

madelineargy 😍

~view all 2,039 comments~

you’re sitting cross-legged on your plush beige couch, the soft hum of a charli xcx playlist filling the quiet of your london apartment. 

a steaming mug of tea sits on the coffee table, untouched, as you absently scroll through your phone. your eyes flick to the clock—just past noon. you’re waiting on lauren to send over the ticket details for tonight’s chelsea vs. arsenal match, the anticipated london derby.

your stomach twists slightly at the thought. not because of the game—you actually enjoy football. it’s the situation you’ve been thrown into that makes you uneasy. 

a fake relationship. a pr stunt. your team’s bright idea to boost both your profiles. it’s not like you haven’t heard the horror stories: influencer friends venting about staged dates, awkward photoshoots, and scripted chemistry with people they couldn’t stand and hated. 

you swore you’d never do something so fake, yet here you are.

your phone buzzes, snapping you out of your thoughts. it’s a message from lauren.

lauren: hey, just sent your name to the list—tickets will be at will call under 'guest of lj.' fancy title, right?

you smile faintly, typing back.

you: wow, i feel so important. 

you joke. a reply comes almost instantly.

lauren: absolutely. “fake girlfriend to chelsea star.” major clout.

you laugh under your breath, appreciating her humor despite the absurdity of the situation.

you: i can’t lie.. this is all so ridiculous. have you done this kind of thing before?

lauren: nope. first time for me too. i feel like i should apologize in advance if i make this awkward.

you: i was just about to say the same to you. we’ll both be awkward… it’ll balance out.

lauren’s next text takes a second longer to come through.

lauren: for what it’s worth, i know this isn’t ideal. but i promise i’m not a complete nightmare in person like the media can paint me out to be. 

you pause, rereading her message. there’s something about her tone—genuine, almost reassuring. however, you frown at the last part of her message. you have seen the tweets and post that have villainized her about certain situations that have happened between her and other players. you don’t play football, but you understand how intense things can be.

lauren’s genuine personality makes you think that this won’t be as terrible as you’ve been building it up to be.

you: well, if you’re not a nightmare, i guess i can survive one football match. or how ever many as i will need to go to for us. as long as i don’t get smacked with a football in front of your everyone or something.

lauren: if you do, we’ll just blame it on the opposing team.

you laugh again softly, shaking your head. her dry wit feels disarming, and you find yourself a little more curious about meeting her in person. maybe, just maybe, lauren will surprise you.

the cool london air nips at your cheeks as you step out of the car, pulling your brown puffer coat tighter around yourself. the excitement hums through the blue and red crowds gathered outside the chelsea stadium. 

you glance up at the familiar facade, the blue and white banners waving proudly in the breeze. you’ve been here before, more times than you can count, but tonight feels… different.

you make your way through the gates, clutching the ticket lauren organized for you. your name’s on the guest list, which feels oddly official, even though you know it’s all just for show. navigating the stadium is second nature by now—you’ve been here for england matches, screaming alongside the fans, but you’ve never been here for chelsea. 

the thought feels strange, almost disloyal, considering most of your friends are manchester (city and united) fans through and through.

their reactions flash through your mind, the way they nearly lost it when you casually mentioned you were going on a "date" with a chelsea player.

"you’re joking, right? chelsea? you can’t be serious," one had said, barely hiding their disbelief.

"wait, who is it?" another pressed, practically bouncing in their seat. 

"don’t tell me it’s lucy bronze—no, wait, she just transferred here so i don’t think it's her."

you’d shrugged them off, offering nothing but a sly smile. “you’ll find out soon enough,” you’d teased, leaving them to spiral into speculation. you didn’t have the heart—or the nerve—to explain the truth yet. 

not until you’d met lauren in person, not until you knew how this whole fake relationship would pan out.

as you approach the friends and family section, a subtle wave of nervousness rolls over you. this is it—the start of whatever chaotic media circus your teams have orchestrated. you take a deep breath, smoothing the invisible wrinkles on your coat, and step inside.

you wonder if people will question your presence in that section, why you were here by yourself with none of your friends to accompany you. however, you decide to take the next 90 minutes to collect your thoughts while lauren plays her match.

taking your seat, directly where you can see the middle of the pitch, the noise of the crowd fills your ears as you settle. your focus is razor-sharp. your eyes stay locked on lauren as she moves across the pitch with ease, weaving through arsenal's defense like it’s second nature. 

the game already started three minutes ago.. and she’s good…really good. you knew that already, of course, seeing her play live is something else entirely.

you shift in your seat, trying to keep your expression neutral. the plan is simple: be here, watch the match, and appear supportive. it’s harder than you thought to ignore the weight of the cameras that occasionally pan away from the game and land on you instead. 

you know what the headlines will say. you can already picture the tweets that are posting on twitter as your eye move along lauren’s body.

the speculation is what you’re here for. you tap your fingers against the armrest of your seat, trying to drown out the chatter in your head. this is all part of the plan, you remind yourself. 

still, the questions buzzing online are ones you’re not ready to answer. not yet. this isn’t even real after all.

your eyes dart back to lauren. she’s on the ball again, making a sharp run from a sharp pass from lucy that sets up a near-perfect chance. the crowd erupts, and you find yourself caught between genuine admiration for her skill and the uncomfortable reality of why you’re here. with the cameras on you, though, you know better than to let anything too much slip. 

you lean forward slightly, keeping your attention locked on lauren, as though she’s the only thing that matters in the moment.

the game ends with a 2-1 win for chelsea. you stand awkwardly by the fruit stand in the lounge room area, pretending to be invested in the arrangement of grapes and orange slices. the truth is, you feel out of place. 

this isn’t your scene, and it shows. the other friends and family members seem at ease, chatting and laughing like they belong here. you, however, can’t shake the anxiety in your chest. of course, people recognize you—this is england, after all. your face is plastered on magazine covers and social media feeds. here, in this context, you feel more exposed than ever.

you shift your weight from foot to foot, glancing at the clock on the wall. lauren’s team has just wrapped up their post-match debrief, and any minute now, she’ll walk in. the thought doesn’t help your nerves; if anything, it makes them worse. 

you haven’t even met her in person before, yet the entire world will soon think that she’s your girlfriend. the absurdity of it all threatens to make you laugh, but the knot in your stomach keeps you grounded.

you’re about to reach for a piece of pineapple when you feel a light touch on your shoulder. the sensation startles you, and you turn around quickly, almost dropping the toothpick you’re holding.

“i didn’t know you could be so shy, y/n,” lauren says, her tone teasing but warm. she’s standing there, freshly showered, her hair damp and swept back. the post-match attitude has faded, leaving her looking relaxed, but there’s a spark of curiosity in her eyes as she takes you in.

you smile nervously, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your blazer. 

“well, i’m usually not,” you reply, your voice quieter than you intended. 

“but this is… a little out of my comfort zone.”

lauren’s brows raise slightly, and she steps closer, her presence somehow steadying. 

“really? you, out of your comfort zone? that’s hard to believe.”

you glance down, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. 

“it’s different when it’s not my crowd. football people, you know? i’m more used to influencer events or fashion shows, not… this.”

lauren chuckles softly. 

“well, for what it’s worth, you look like you fit right in. maybe too well. people are already whispering about you.”

“great,” you mutter, trying to keep the sarcasm light but unable to mask your discomfort. 

“exactly what i wanted.”

she tilts her head, studying you for a moment. 

“it’ll die down eventually,” she says, her tone more serious now. 

“but i get it. it’s weird, isn’t it? pretending like this? its going to be worse once we have to tell the media.”

you let out a small laugh, more out of relief that she said it than anything else. 

“weird doesn’t even begin to cover it,” you admit. 

“i mean, we haven’t even met before today, and now the world will think that we’re madly in love. it’s ridiculous.”

lauren nods, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. 

“yeah, it is. but hey, we’re in this together, right?.”

you meet her gaze. she’s genuine, at least, and that’s something. “you’re right,” you say softly, your smile more genuine now. 

“i guess we’ll figure it out.”

she grins, and the moment feels strangely natural despite the layers of pretense surrounding it. then she gestures toward the lounge area where the other players’ families are gathered. 

“come on. let’s get you out of the corner. they’re going to think i’m a terrible girlfriend if i leave you standing here alone.”

you laugh, following her lead, the tension still present but slightly eased by her presence. it’s strange, walking beside her, knowing that the world will see something entirely different from what you feel inside. 

for now, you push that thought aside and focus on surviving the night.

lj10

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random28383 IS THAT WHO I THINK IT ISSS??????

y/nl8vr MY BABY ON THE THIRD SLIDE

chelseafcwfan7 I KNEW IT WAS LAUREN THAT WAS DATING Y/N

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y/n.l/n 😘😘

user91010 oh that's not..

meazalykov ??

user91010 @/meazalykov i did not expect lauren and y/n no shade..

meazalykov well too bad..

lucybronze hard launch era

catarina_macario 😍😍

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the days throughout the next few weeks blur together in a haze of carefully curated social media posts and staged interactions. every picture, every story, every comment feels like a chess move, calculated for the public eye. 

by now, the world has accepted the narrative—lauren james and y/n l/n, england’s newest power couple.

behind the scenes, it’s a different story entirely. you and lauren barely talk, only exchanging the occasional text when coordinating your next “public moment.” it’s efficient, professional even, but cold. 

you can’t help but feel the growing weight of the disconnect between the facade you show the world and the reality of your relationship. or lack thereof.

yet, something about lauren lingers in your mind. she’s kind in the brief moments you’ve interacted—genuine, with a subtle humor that catches you off guard. you’ve noticed how her quiet demeanor shifts when she’s irritated, her sharp gaze and tense shoulders mirroring your own tells when you’re frustrated. 

it’s a trait that feels too familiar, like looking into a mirror.

sitting on your couch late one evening, your phone in hand, you scroll mindlessly through instagram. you pause looking at the instagram story you posted with lauren, staring at the image, at the way lauren’s hand rests casually on your back in the mirror picture. you’d both laughed during that shoot. the memory stirs something in your chest—a quiet ache you can’t quite place.

she’s fascinating in a way you didn’t expect. it’s not just her talent on the pitch or her rising fame; it’s the little things. the way her smile softens when she’s genuinely amused. the thoughtful pauses she takes before she speaks. the way she seems to carry a quiet confidence, even in the chaos of the public’s attention. 

you shake your head, exhaling sharply. this is ridiculous, you tell yourself. the truth is, you want to know her… the real her, not the polished version you’ve pieced together through brief interactions and online impressions. 

you open your messages, your thumb hovering over her name. for a moment, you consider texting her something—anything—to start a conversation. however, the thought of overstepping, of complicating an already convoluted situation, keeps you frozen. 

with a sigh, you lock your phone and toss it onto the couch beside you.

whatever this is, whatever it could be, will have to wait. for now, you’ll stick to the plan, no matter how much your thoughts keep drifting back to lauren.

y/n.l/n

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y/n.l/n good evening

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lj10 good evening 😍😍

lucybronze its 11:09am..

y/n.l/n again, good evening lucy bronze

lucybronze good evening ig 😒

catarina_macario 🤩

random2728 lj and y/n having a private but not secret relationship 🥰

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random2728 there's something off about this..

random10989 wym?

leahwilliamsonn 😍

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the bar is calming, music thrumming in the background as laughter and chatter fill the air. the dim lighting casts a warm glow over the group, everyone mingling and sipping on their drinks. 

you’re perched on a stool near the bar, glancing occasionally at lauren, who’s leaning against the counter, chatting easily with one of her teammates, millie. she looks relaxed, her posture casual, but there’s something about the way her eyes flick to you every so often that has your stomach in knots.

“another drink?” her voice cuts through the noise, her tone light but carrying just enough warmth to catch your attention.

you look up at her, a slight smile tugging at your lips.

“are you trying to get me drunk, lauren?”

she smirks, handing you the glass. 

“maybe. or maybe i just want to make sure you’re having a good time.”

you take a sip, feeling the burn of the alcohol mixed with something sweeter—the way she’s looking at you. 

“thanks,” you murmur. 

“but i can return the favor. what are you drinking?”

“water,” she says simply, holding up her glass. 

“staying hydrated.”

you tilt your head, studying her. 

“water? not even one drink? you’re playing it too safe.”

she shrugs, a playful glint in her eyes. 

“someone has to keep an eye on you.”

you laugh, the sound escaping before you can stop it. 

“oh, so now you’re my babysitter?”

“if that’s what you need,” she fires back smoothly, her grin widening.

there’s a moment, a charged pause, where the noise of the bar seems to fade into the background. lauren’s gaze lingers on you, and you feel your cheeks heat under the intensity of it. 

you lean in slightly, emboldened by the drinks and the energy between you.

“careful,” you tease, your voice dropping just enough to match the tension. 

“someone might think you actually care.”

“and what if i do?” she counters, her tone light but her eyes unreadable.

you blink, caught off guard. the banter feels easy, natural, but there’s something underneath it that feels heavier—real. you search her face for a clue, but she keeps her expression steady, a flicker of amusement playing at the corners of her mouth.

“then i’d say you’re doing a great job convincing everyone here,” you say finally, trying to match her confidence, even as your heart races.

her lips curve into a smirk. 

“convincing you, too?”

your breath catches, and for a split second, you don’t know what to say. she watches you, her expression calm but undeniably smug, as though she knows exactly the effect she’s having on you.

“maybe,” you admit, keeping your voice steady despite the way your pulse thunders in your ears.

she chuckles softly, the sound low and intimate, and it leaves you feeling both flustered and unmoored. then, as if sensing the moment tipping into something too real, she pulls back slightly, raising her glass of water in a mock toast.

“to good acting,” she says, her voice light but her eyes holding yours a beat too long.

you clink your glass against hers, your stomach twisting as you try to discern whether she’s teasing or deflecting. 

as the night wears on, you can’t shake the way her words, her gaze, her presence—all of it—lingers in the back of your mind. was it an act? or was there something more beneath the surface? you don’t know, and the uncertainty gets at you in a way you didn’t expect.

your drink—something sweet and forgettable—sits untouched in front of you, the condensation pooling around the glass on the counter. the room feels alive as you watch your surroundings again, as lauren’s teammates and your friends fill the dance floor, laughing, swaying to the music, completely at ease. 

you, however, feel like a misplaced puzzle piece.

you’re here for a purpose, after all—not to let loose, but to be seen. you and lauren were both instructed to attend, to sit in proximity long enough for someone to notice, snap a photo, and post it online. the public needed to see the happy “couple” out and about, living their seemingly charmed lives. 

that was the plan. it always is. however, something about tonight feels off.. or maybe it’s you that feels off. 

your eyes drift to lauren, who’s sitting a few stools away at this point, talking to sjoeke. lauren’s body language is relaxed, her posture casual, and she exudes that effortless charm you’ve come to associate with her. her laugh carries over the music, soft but genuine, and it’s disarming. 

you’ve seen her in a dozen different settings by now—on the pitch, in interviews, even in those staged photoshoots your teams made you do together—but she always carries the same quiet confidence. 

“why do i care so much about her flirting earlier?” the thought hits you suddenly, and you blink, startled by your own realization. you know you shouldn’t care. it’s not like there’s anything real between you two. this is business, nothing more. 

you’re about to take a sip of your drink when movement catches your eye. a brunette woman, her steps uneven and her smile a little too wide, weaves her way through the crowd and makes a beeline for lauren. 

she stops next to her, leaning on the counter for balance before sliding onto the stool beside her. 

at first, you think nothing of it. people approach lauren all the time; it comes with the territory of her being a footballer.. then you notice the way the woman leans in, her body language screaming flirtation. 

even over the music, you catch snippets of her words. 

“i’ve been watching you all night,” the brunette says, her voice slurred but still clear enough to make your chest tighten. 

you force yourself to look away, focusing instead on the condensation trailing down your glass. but your attention snaps back when you hear lauren laugh—a soft, polite chuckle that quickly morphs into something warmer. she’s flirting back. 

it’s subtle, nothing overt, but it’s enough to make your stomach churn.

you grip the edge of your stool, willing yourself to stay calm. this doesn’t matter, you tell yourself. this isn’t real. lauren is a footballer—a brilliant, talented, and undeniably attractive one. of course people are drawn to her. of course she’s going to flirt back.

you remind yourself that you’re just the one her pr team picked for this charade. nothing more. 

the tightness in your chest refuses to go away. watching lauren lean in closer to the brunette, her smile softening, feels like a punch to the gut and worse, it makes you question things you don’t want to question. 

like why you even care in the first place.

the noise of the bar feels suffocating, and before you know it, you’re sliding off the stool and heading toward the bathroom. the music dulls as you push through the door, and the quieter space is a welcome reprieve.

then, your eyes land on zion and amber. 

your two friends are tucked into a corner of the bathroom, lost in their own world. amber’s hands are tangled in zion’s hair, and zion’s lips are pressed firmly against amber’s. they don’t even notice you until the door clicks shut behind you. 

zion pulls back first, her face flushed. “y/n?” she asks, stepping forward. 

“you okay?”

you hesitate, the weight of the night pressing heavily on your chest. you don’t want to talk about it, but the lump in your throat makes it clear that you need to. 

“not really,” you admit, your voice quieter than you intended.

amber straightens, exchanging a quick glance with zion before walking over to you. 

“what’s going on?” she asks, concern evident in her tone.

just like that, everything comes pouring out. the fake relationship, the constant public scrutiny, the pressure to perform for an audience you didn’t ask for. you tell them about the brunette at the bar, how lauren flirted back, and how much it hurt even though it shouldn’t have. when you’re done, you feel a little lighter, but the knot in your chest remains.

zion crosses her arms, her brow furrowed in thought. 

“y/n,” she says carefully, “are you… catching feelings for lauren?”

the question hangs in the air, heavy and uncomfortable. your first instinct is to deny it, to brush it off as ridiculous. but the truth gnaws at you, undeniable and unrelenting. you don’t say anything, which is answer enough.

amber steps closer, placing a hand on your arm. “look,” she says gently, “you need to figure this out. either you tell her how you feel and end this whole fake thing, or you set some serious boundaries before you get hurt.”

you nod slowly, the reality of her words settling over you like a weight. “yeah,” you murmur. 

“you’re right.”

as you stand there, staring at your reflection in the bathroom mirror, the question lingers in your mind. 

how did i even let this happen?

the days pass in a haze of avoidance and overthinking. 

you bury yourself in work, content for tiktok, and anything else that keeps you busy enough to ignore the fluttering in your chest every time you think of lauren. it’s not hard to avoid her; after all, your only real interactions have been the orchestrated ones... lunches, coffee dates, the occasional walk in the park, all designed to feed the narrative. 

without the need for those, you manage to keep your distance.

your phone buzzes occasionally with texts from lauren. nothing accusatory or probing, just polite questions about when your next outing is or casual jokes about how your pr teams must be getting impatient about when the next outing will be. 

each message makes your stomach twist, the guilt poking at you. she doesn’t deserve to be avoided, but you can’t bring yourself to face her right now.

the bathroom conversation at the bar replays in your head on a loop. amber’s words, “set boundaries or tell her how you feel,” echo louder with each passing day. it feels like you’ve done neither, stuck somewhere in limbo, unsure of what to do. 

all you know is that seeing lauren flirt with someone else hurt more than it should have. and now, it’s painfully clear why.

you caught feelings. 

the realization had hit you like a train that night, leaving you panicked. you’ve spent years building walls around yourself, keeping relationships at arm’s length, unwilling to let anyone in after your last heartbreak. yet here you are, feelings growing for someone who isn’t even truly yours. 

lauren’s face lingers in your mind far more often than you’d like. the chelsea player’s quiet humor, her thoughtfulness, the way her smile lights up when she’s genuinely happy.. it’s all etched into your brain, no matter how much you try to push it away. 

the worst part? you know this is going nowhere. fake relationships don’t magically become real, and even if they did, there’s no guarantee lauren feels the same.

you sit on your couch, scrolling absentmindedly through your phone. the notifications pile up—comments on your latest post, messages from friends, an email from your team about your next public appearance. 

you can’t bring yourself to focus on any of it. all you can think about is how scared you are that you’ve made a mistake, one that’s far too late to undo.

hours later.. around midnight.. you’re curled up on your couch, a soft blanket draped over your legs as you dig into a bowl of rice and chicken. the dim glow of the tv lights up the room, the suspenseful soundtrack of squid game filling the air. 

it’s the perfect distraction, engrossing enough to keep your thoughts at bay, even if just for a little while.

then, a faint knock interrupts the quiet. at first, you assume it’s coming from the show, but when it happens again, you freeze. your eyes flick to the door. you weren’t expecting anyone, and frankly, you’ve been avoiding everyone for the last few days. 

the knocking persists, steady and deliberate, until you reluctantly pause the show and get up.

your heart races as you peek through the peephole. the sight of lauren standing there, hands shoved into the pockets of her hoodie, sends your mind spiraling. 

what is she doing here? how did she get my address?

you open the door slowly, your confusion evident. 

“lauren?” you ask, your voice wary. 

“what are you doing here? how did you even know where i live?”

she offers a small smile, almost sheepish. 

“hey. i asked madeline. hope that’s okay.”

you step aside, letting her in despite your confusion at why she would go so far to ask your mutual friend what your address was. lauren looks around, her eyes landing on the paused screen of squid game. 

“season two?” she asks, nodding toward the tv. 

“is it any good? haven’t had the chance to watch it yet because of training.”

“so far, yeah,” you reply, your tone cautious. 

“like the first season. but… why are you here?”

she turns to face you, her expression soft but serious. 

“i came to talk to you. you’ve been avoiding everyone.. me included.. and it’s not like you. i just want to make sure you’re okay.”

you try to brush it off, waving a hand dismissively. 

“i’m fine. just needed some space, that’s all.”

lauren doesn’t budge. she crosses her arms, tilting her head slightly. 

“come on, y/n. i know something’s wrong. you can’t just disappear like that and expect no one to notice.”

you let out a dry laugh, shaking your head. 

“what does it matter? you probably have a real date to get to or something.”

she frowns, her brows knitting together. 

“what are you talking about? i don’t have a real date. why would you say that?”

your heart pounds in your chest, but you push forward, your voice tinged with frustration. 

“do you have a real partner, lauren? someone you’re seeing while we’re doing this… this fake thing?”

lauren’s confusion deepens. 

“what? no. where is this even coming from?”

the tension boils over, and before you can stop yourself, the words spill out. 

“because it’s driving me insane, lauren! this whole fake relationship thing.. it’s messing with my head. i can’t stop thinking about you, and it’s not just for the cameras or the public or whatever. i caught feelings, okay? within these few months of pretending to be your girlfriend, i somehow…. god, i don’t even know. i like you and i know that’s not part of the plan, so if this makes things too complicated, we can stop. i get it.”

the room goes quiet, your words hanging heavily in the air. lauren’s eyes widen, and for a moment, you brace yourself for rejection. but then her expression shifts… softening into something that looks like relief.

“wait,” she says, stepping closer. 

“are you serious?”

you nod, your heart in your throat. 

“yeah. and if that’s too much, just say the word, and we can call this off. i’ll tell the pr team about the situation myself.”

lauren shakes her head quickly. “no, no. you’re not calling anything off.” her voice is steady, her gaze locked onto yours. 

“if we’re going to stop the fake relationship, it’s only because we’re starting a real one.”

your brows knit together, confusion washing over you. 

“what are you saying?”

she takes a breath, her lips curving into a small, genuine smile. 

“i’m saying that i’ve caught feelings too. you’re kind, funny, and beautiful.. completely yourself no matter the situation. you’re the kind of person who i love spending my time with, even for something as ridiculous as a fake relationship, this has been the best part of my year.”

you stare at her, your brain struggling to catch up. 

“you… like me?”

“yeah,” she says, her smile widening. 

“i like you, y/n. for real, nothing fake.”

the tension in your chest finally loosens, replaced by something warm and overwhelming. 

“so, what do we do now?”

lauren grins, her expression brighter than you’ve ever seen it. 

“first, i’m calling the pr team and telling them we’re done with this fake stuff. after that, we’ll figure it out. together.”

you let out a breathy laugh, relief washing over you. 

“okay. yeah. let’s do that.”

she glances at the tv, her grin turning playful. 

“before that, can we watch the rest of this? i’ve been meaning to start season two.”

you laugh, gesturing to the couch. 

“sure, but you’re sharing my blanket.”

lauren plops down beside you, pulling the blanket over her legs as the two of you settle in. for the first time in weeks, everything feels right.

also real.. 

masterlist

happy very early birthday aj 😆

[moonstruckme]

Hi! Could I request a plus size!reader with James? Maybe where she gets upset because she can’t wear his clothes and she can’t do cute little girlfriend things like him picking her up and stuff like that?

Thanks for requesting babe!

cw: size insecurity

modern au ig because new girl

James Potter x plus size!reader ♡ 956 words

“I’m kind of thinking of jumping back to season four,” you call towards the bedroom. “Jess is about to leave for jury duty, and I don’t like those episodes as much.” 

“Pretty sure you’ve got them all memorized anyway,” James says back. “Why don’t we just watch Friends instead?” 

Your mouth twists even though he can’t see it, but luckily, the feeling behind the expression carries in your voice anyway. “Because it’s not as good.” 

“Okay.” James rolls his eyes lightly as he emerges from your bedroom, now clad in pajamas to match you. “We can do New Girl again, but I need my pillow, please.” 

You sigh heavily, feigning reluctance as you uncurl your legs from underneath you and prop your feet on the coffee table. James hurries over, sprawling out on the couch and settling his head on the cushion of your thighs. He’s due for a haircut. His thick curls spread out around him like the sun’s rays. He smiles up at you, dopey, and you tamp down a grin as you start the episode. 

Not ten minutes in, there’s a flashback about when one character was in college. Bigger, dorkier, romantically inept. It’s played for a laugh. You glance down at James. He’s wormed a hand under your leg and is kneading the fat there like putty. It’s an absentminded gesture, nothing critical about it, but you wonder if he’s correlating you with the actor on screen, bumbling and the butt of the joke in his fatsuit. 

You comb a hand through James’ hair, and he looks up, catches you watching him. He’s never been one to mind being observed. He shoots you a smile, catching your hand with his other and pressing it to his lips. 

You smile back. “Do you ever wish you had a skinny girlfriend?” you ask him. 

If he’s surprised by the abruptness of the question, he doesn’t show it. “Nope,” he answers. “Never. What would I do for a pillow?” 

You consciously keep your smile in place, fixing your eyes back on the screen. The one character is telling the story of how embarrassing it was to lose his virginity. Like sex was borderline impossible, just because he was chubby. 

You feel James’ head shift on your legs, and look down to find he’s turned towards you. “We manage just fine,” he whispers conspiratorially. 

You exhale amusedly through your nose. “Yeah? I don’t near crush you every time?” 

“It’s really cute that you think you could, lovie.” 

You roll your eyes, letting them land on the TV. “Sometimes I wish I could do more…quintessential girlfriend stuff.” You can feel James’ eyes on you, but he keeps quiet. “Like when girls steal their boyfriend’s hoodies and stuff.” 

You look down, and James’ eyebrows have lowered slightly. “You could borrow my hoodies if you wanted to,” he says. “Angel, you know I think you’re the perfect size, don’t you? Do I not tell you that enough?” 

You give him a little smile, shoulders coming up bashfully. (He does. He makes little comments all day long—how pretty you look, how he loves your thighs, how soft and warm you are when you’re cuddling, how lovely and squishable your ass is in his hands.) “It’s not you,” you say, “it’s just hard not to think about those girls who, like, drown in their boyfriends’ clothes, you know? And your stuff fits almost tight on me.” 

James looks at you considerately, nodding. You and he aren’t vastly different sizes, with James’ bulky frame and wide shoulders. You just…he treats you like you’re precious, but sometimes you wish you looked precious standing next to him, too. You wish he could pick you up with one arm or make jokes about you being tiny like a chihuahua or whatever else it is the boyfriends of petite girls do. 

“I realize this is rather selfish,” James says, “but I actually quite enjoy that I’m able to borrow your clothes from time to time.” He glances pointedly down at his shirt, which you now realize has been pilfered from your wardrobe. “And if it’s baggy clothes you’re looking for, I could always get a couple loose-fitting hoodies, wear them around and get ‘em all smelled up, and then pass them on to you.” You must look about as lovesick as you feel, because his smile returns, brown eyes sweetly knowing. “Does that sound like something you’d like?”

“Yeah,” you say, biting your lip to keep from beaming too embarrassingly. “Yes, please. Thanks, Jamie.” 

“Course.” He gives your thigh a hearty squeeze, turning his head to press a wet smooch to your skin. “You know, those other girls are missing out on things, too,” he says. “I doubt their boyfriends spend so much time lounging on them, and I know how much you love it when I make your legs fall asleep.” 

You snicker. “You’re right, I do love that.” 

James’ smile spreads wider at your response. “I know you do, lovie. All for you, of course. Also, I know it’s not a hoodie, but I have that one red jumper that’s pretty big on me. You know the one?” 

“Oh my gosh, yes!” You sit up straighter. “I totally forgot about that. Could I use it?” 

“What’s mine is yours.” 

“Thanks.” You scoot out from under him, and James sits up, upset. 

“Oi! Where do you think you’re going? I was comfy!” 

“To change,” you call back from halfway down the hall. 

“Never change, angel!” You roll your eyes at the stupid joke, grinning to yourself. “I love you just the way you are!” 

[idkanymoreokay]

I have so many thoughts on the friendship between Flynn and Cassandra, I could write a million essays on it. But something that has really jumped out to me during my current rewatch is the way these two just easily understand each other without even trying.

They talk without having to verbally communicate most of what they're saying. They don't even seem to be aware of the fact everyone else in the room is looking at them in confusion because they can't hear the unspoken parts of the conversation.

They bounce ideas off each other so easily, instantly pick up on each other's trains of thought, and practically finish the other's sentences or ideas.

These two neurodivergent geeks, who never had anyone in their life truly grasp what goes on inside their head, suddenly found someone who knows and it's like they instantly latched onto that connection.

Cassandra also has her very close friendship with the other LITs, and Flynn has his relationship with Eve, but it's their friendship with each other that lets them both explore and indulge the parts of themself that other people just don't understand.

Cassandra is definitely the one out of the LITs that is most like Flynn, both in her skills as a Librarian and also in her personality and how her lightning speed thoughts tend to get translated into her words and interactions with others. (Which is a whole other topic I'd love to dive into another day.) But, yeah, it makes so much sense why they have no trouble at all understanding each other.

(Edit: Nope, that was supposed to be the end of the post but I have too many thoughts that need to be shouted into the void. Their friendship is very important to me. So...)

Jumping back to the very beginning - During the first two episodes, Flynn is perpetually annoyed by Ezekiel and just kinda ignores Stone. But Cassandra… He's absolutely fascinated by her from the moment they first meet. He takes a minute out of their incredibly urgent life-and-death mission to discuss her being a synesthete and geek out a little over the fact she has an eidetic memory like him. And Cassandra's immediate reaction of "Yes, wow" is like she can't believe someone is capable of immediately understanding what's going on inside her head and is 100% okay with that and not at all bothered by her being "different".

And then they get to Stonehenge:

And I think this is the moment Flynn really starts to appreciate how brilliant Cassandra is, and how very much like him she is. Flynn is a fairly competitive person with a genius brain like no other, but he doesn't get upset or offended when she takes over the calculations, and even carries them out faster than he could have. If anything, he looks genuinely impressed. He instantly understands what information she needs and readily gives it to her so they can continue solving the puzzle. They immediately settle into this easy back and forth, this rapid exchange of information and clues as they work at putting together the pieces. He's able to talk to her in a way he can't talk to anyone else. It's probably been a long time (if ever) since he's interacted with someone who can keep up with him.

Even after Cassandra has betrayed Flynn -- causing him to lose his home, the only family he had left, his best friend, and potentially his life -- he instantly accepts her back on the team and even sticks up for her when the others object. At this point, she hasn't apologized, shown any indication of remorse, or had a chance to make amends. And it doesn't matter to him. "She had her reasons" - and that's enough for him. He lets her out of the cell and immediately wants to hear her plan for stopping the Brotherhood.

And I think this is the moment when Cassandra -- similar to Flynn's realization at Stonehenge -- suddenly realizes that someone else can grasp her thought process. That someone understands the way her brain works. That someone is capable of following her trains of thought and not getting lost in the ordered chaos of her mind.

Just look at her smile!! She is trying to get across what she wants to say, and she's so used to having to break things down for others and still not being understood, and here's someone who instantly picks up what she's trying to convey. Look how utterly happy and excited she is when he gets it.

I love how much they appreciate each other's genius. I love how they can communicate on a different level. I love how much they genuinely care about each other.

And I absolutely love that it's through Flynn that Cassandra manages to have her moment for redemption, because he's already clearly demonstrated that he's the one member of the group she doesn't have to prove herself to.

I just... 😭😭😭

I love that Flynn has zero people skills and a very weak grasp on the concept of friendship and yet he meets this brilliant, weird, amazing young person and pretty much instantly connects with her. Because, like her, he also spent most of his life invisible and now someone actually understands him and is already so important to him, even if it's a while yet before he'll really fully understand the concept of friendship.

I love that Cassandra has spent most of her life feeling unseen and never truly accepted by the people around her. And then she meets someone who immediately sees her and understands how her mind works and appreciates and trusts her, and who introduces her to this life of mystery and magic where she can use her talents to save the world… and she already knows that he's important to her even if she doesn't realize just how much her life is going to change because of him.

There's SO MUCH more I could say about their friendship, but I should probably channel some of it into an actual blog post at some point. For now, here's some cute moments I grabbed while getting the screenshots for this post:

[scoobydoodean]

Sam and Dean are having a covert fight the entirety of 7.13 "Slice Girls", from the very beginning to the end over the very different ways they're coping with Bobby's death.

Sam is pushing them to hunt more (which is typical—also see: 2.02, 3.11, 4.09), while Dean is exhibiting the same depression symptoms we've seen all season, expressing deep cynicism about the job (ex: 7.05, 7.09) fantasizing about escape, and seeking drinks and conversation with strangers in bars as a distraction.

We open 7.13 with Sam driving and Dean asleep in the passenger seat, and it's immediately apparent that Dean didn't want to go on this hunt, and Sam really really did. It's also apparent that Sam is bothered by how Dean is coping, and Dean is bothered by how Sam is coping... Probably because Sam's way of coping (hunting) is the exact opposite of what Dean would like to do.

SAM: Is that Bobby’s? [DEAN takes a drink from Bobby's flask.] SAM: I didn’t know you kept that. DEAN: Yeah, mine sprung a leak. SAM: You know, most people would just carry a – a photo or something for a memento. DEAN: Shut up, man. I’m – I’m – I’m honoring the guy, all right? This is, uh, grief therapy, kind of like you and your wild-goose chase. SAM: Wild-goose chase? DEAN: Yeah.

Sam's clearly worried about Dean's drinking, and has been for a while, but he's too antsy to address the subject outright, so he teases instead. Dean reads the underlying judgement and argues that what he's doing is no less destructive than Sam pushing them to drive through the night for a case that might not be anything. The thing is, this is absolutely a weird situation that's right up their alley as a potential case. Dean just didn't do the reading, because he didn't want to go on a hunt to begin with.

SAM: Four guys murdered in two weeks, hands and feet cut off. DEAN: Yeah, well, some guy with a foot fetish run amuck. SAM: Grown men thrown so hard they went through walls. Did you – did you even read the article? DEAN: No, I was napping.

Sam then reminds Dean that they agreed the previous episode that it was best to stay busy to cope with Bobby's death... or rather—Sam said he wanted to work to cope with Bobby's death, and Dean agreed that that was best for him too but didn't mean it, then practiced fake smiles in the driver's seat.

SAM: Well, anyway, what else you got going on? Dick Roman’s a dead end for now, you might as well – DEAN: Stay busy. SAM: Exactly. DEAN: Yeah.

At the forensics lab, Dean has an odd interaction with the forensics expert, bragging about their health care benefits package as "FBI agents". This annoys Sam, who's all business. Dean's small talk full of lies feels odd—but might reflect his desire to escape to a job that provides them with actual pay and health insurance (hell—as Bobby's emergency contact, he might be dodging calls over Bobby's insurance over his stay in the trauma center).

Dean begrudgingly admits there's a case here, and Sam wants to begin research, but Dean nopes right out of that.

SAM: Let’s get a bite to eat, go back to the motel, haul out the laptop. DEAN: That’s a great idea. Actually, that’s a brilliant idea. Here’s my counter. You do that, I’ll go undercover, go mingle amongst the locals and see, uh, what kind of clues bubble to the surface. SAM: You’re going to a bar.

Sam tries to call Dean out for bailing, but Dean doesn't actually give a damn that Sam wants him to work, so he basically just goes, "yep" and takes off.

At the bar, Dean again imagines himself as a normal person, talking with Lydia about having a decent year in terms of income. Sam and Dean have spent a lot of the season squatting in abandoned homes because their money situation is so bad (Dean complains about this in 7.09 and 7.12), and Dean burned 15 grand he managed to scrape together (probably from Bobby's estate) on payments to Frank. Lydia talks about not being ready to settle down. Dean at least pretends to agree (this is 8 episodes after his last attempt at a one night stand required a pep talk to convince himself, "One night stands are what you do").

Next, the brothers fight at least two separate times about Sam finding an expert (Preofessor Morisson) to do some of the lore search they used to rely on Bobby for, with Dean grumbling (essentially) about how no one can replace Bobby, and Sam being annoyed that Dean's grumbling when they have no other choice if they want to solve the case.

After that, things start to take a turn from what happened at the beginning of the episode with Dean denying the obvious. Sam starts making some really weird accusations and denials that just don't make sense.

First, Dean contacts Lydia because he realizes he left his flask at her house. Sam insists on the narrative that Dean's catching feelings, when it's blatantly obvious that Dean just wants to retrieve a flask with sentimental value because it belonged to Bobby. Then Sam's teasing Dean over Lydia not answering his calls, inferring that Dean is wounded by rejection, instead of very clearly just wants the flask. Right after another complaint from Dean about Morrison:

SAM: Dean, you know what? I want to call him, too, okay? Believe me. But Bobby's not here. So we're settling [for Professor Morrison]. DEAN: Yeah. We sure are. [DEAN looks at his phone.] DEAN: Damn it, why hasn't she called? SAM: Who? Lydia? Wait, so some girl's actually dumping you the morning after? DEAN: I think you're enjoying this a little more than you need to. Screw it. I'm going over there and getting the flask.

I think we can make an argument here that Sam's denying the significance Dean assigns to the flask because it represents 1) Dean's worsening relationship with alcohol 2) How that relationship to alcohol in season 7 is attached to Dean's grief over losing people he loves (Cas and Bobby).

Second, Sam weirdly pretends that Dean's description of Lydia's toddler talking like an adult and growing to the size of a 6 year old with hours is not weird and that Dean is just being crazy somehow... and it's even weirder that Sam pretends it's not weird and that Dean is being crazy, given Dean shares this information about Lydia with Sam after Sam finds out that the bar where Dean met Lydia is directly connected to the disappearances of several men who met one night stands there.

One the phone, Sam complains that Dean hasn't met up with him:

SAM: You never showed. DEAN: I'm outside Lydia's. SAM: Oh, come on, man. What, are you obsessed or something? DEAN: No, I'm telling you. I have been eating at the buffet of strange all afternoon. SAM: Meaning what? DEAN: I'll tell you the second I know. But something ain't right. SAM: Or you're obsessed. DEAN: Shut up. I'm serious.

Then later in person, Sam repeatedly denies that Dean could possibly know what he's talking about:

SAM: So what? I mean, so maybe she has another kid she didn't tell you about. DEAN: Nope, just the one. Emma. But that night, when I was with her, she didn't have any. And I was at her place, man. There was no playpens, no blankets, no rubber ducks. SAM: Right. Like you would have been focused on that kind of thing.

and,

DEAN: Then, all of a sudden, boom – baby. SAM: Yeah, the one you thought talked. DEAN: Oh, it talked. And not baby talk, either. SAM: Now you know so much about child development?

Dean eventually gets genuinely irritated:

DEAN: Lydia's handing this kid who's calling her mommy over to these two women, right? But this is not a baby. No, no, this kid's got to be five. And same name – Emma. SAM: You know, George Foreman named all his sons George. DEAN: Are you deliberately messing with me?

Sam just shrugs. I think Sam's denying the stakes here because he doesn't want to believe yet another person he cares about might be in danger. He'd prefer to believe Dean is just playing Dean Winchester, Playboy Who's Caught Feelings. It's only after they get a lore update from Professor Morrison matching Dean's story that Sam relents.

Third, Sam blows up at Dean when he suggests Bobby is haunting them through the flask... except... Sam also clearly thinks there's something to it? Dean sees a paper move and immediately reports it to Sam as a sign of ghost activity, and Sam doesn't hesitate to take out the EMF meter... but then he notices there's a nearby powerline and gets condescending about how it's obviously interfering with the readings. Dean suggests maybe the flask is haunted, and Sam gets mad.

SAM: We burned him, Dean. DEAN: So what?

They know that objects can be haunted. They know that.

SAM: So, what are you suggesting? DEAN: I don't know. What are you?

Dean knows Sam thinks he's crazy.

SAM: Concentrate on something else. DEAN: Why? SAM: Because it's [raising his voice and stepping close to DEAN] not Bobby! DEAN: Could be. SAM: No, it couldn't be. DEAN: Why not? SAM: [loudly, very close to DEAN] Because we want it to be.

The thing is, Sam immediately does something that contradicts his vehement rejection of Dean's theory that Bobby moved the papers!!!

SAM snatches the piece of parchment from the bed. DEAN: Maybe it's useful. SAM: It's in a pile of "maybe it's useful." Besides, it's in Greek. Nobody reads Greek. DEAN: Yeah, except Greeks. Oh, and Bobby. SAM: And Professor Morrison. DEAN: Really? SAM: I'm going, Dean. You stay here, keep the door locked. Don't go anywhere. I mean it.

Wow wow wow.

Anyway though. Is it any wonder Sam lectures Dean at the end of the episode for hesitating to kill his own daughter, insists that she wasn't really his, and then when Dean says that is objectively false, Sam calls him crazy?

SAM: You know what? Bobby was right. Your head's not in it, man. When Cas died, you were wobbly, but now...

Finally, Dean snaps back.

DEAN: Now what? Oh, what, you're dealing with it so perfect? Yeah, news flash, pal – you're just as screwed up as I am! You're just... bigger.

Sam doesn't get to pretend he's fine just because his coping strategies involve hunting to escape instead of drinking. Like Dean, he is avoiding certain realities to cope with his grief and fears. Hell—one could argue he does that much more than Dean during this episode.

Excerpts from 7.13 transcript on the good SPN wiki

[echantedtoon]

A Lovers' Circle (Poly Haishira x Reader) Ch14 Halloween Party

(Or Alternate title Y/n gets to meet a LOT of inlaws all in one night. Plus obligatory Halloween episode! Next heart to be won is on the way!

If you wanna know what Halloween costumes most of the characters are wearing follow the links. Y/n's costume is the pic on top.

https://www.tumblr.com/echantedtoon/764252092271640576/demon-slayer-characters-halloween-costumes-p1?source=share

Taglist: @shadyd3ar @jcrml

@tengensangel @miniverse-zen @mysteri0uz @jjamsbangtan

@the-unknown-fandom

@lavenderdropp @mimisweetz. @purplesoulsapphire

@kksmush @denkpanda18 @whomisi @lessthanimperfect @silver-rin

@rotting-alone @namis-noodlebox

@k1ttyluverz @akiramente

@rascalraccoon @ravenclawkae1

Remember if you want to be added to the taglist lemme know

A party on Halloween. That sounded like a fantastic idea!

From what Gyomei told you after work, Kyojuro was hosting a large party at his family's house and had invited all of his partners and their extended families so it'd double as some kind of giant family dinner. Of course being Gyomei's girlfriend, Kyojuro was MORE than happy to invite you along as Mei's plus one. Your boyfriend did suggest that you invite your family as well but thankfully and unfortunately you didn't have much family and weren't close to most of the ones you did have.

Your father passed, your mother only saw you once or twice a year since you were abandoned on your great Aunt's doorstep, and your aunt-

"I'm afraid my Aunt Dakita can't come." You casually mentioned while pouring your boyfriend a cup of tea.

White eyes followed the distant sounds of the kitchen as you shuffled around. "Oh? You did ask didn't you?"

"I did," you answered truthfully before you sighed in relief. "She's running a 'future reading' booth for a client's party and then she's going out of town the next day for a wedding. Apparently she helped the groom meet his husband?"

"Oh. By reading tea leaves?"

"Nope. The groom works at the nearby cafe and his husband was looking for someone who cooked good."

"Ah. I'm surprised that she didn't try to match him up with you considering how well you cook. That meatloaf was delicious." You smiled at him before a deep chuckle settled in. "Or maybe I should consider myself lucky that no one snatched you up before I did.~"

"Are you flirting with me?"

"Depends. Do you like it?"

The sounds of footsteps came back into the living room and a second later a soft warmth of a kiss was pressed to his cheek and a warm cup of tea was gently placed in his hands. By the smell of it, it was camomile tea with honey and milk. The smile on his face only increased feeling the sofa dip next to him as a warm weight settled to his right.

"Yes.~ Who knew the gentle giant knew how to sweet talk?"

He chuckled as the glass was raised to his lips contently. "When you spend enough time around Tengen and Mitsuri you tend to pick up a few things over the years."

"Speaking of them, have you been noticing anything strange lately?"

He hummed halting his enjoyment of his drink to face you with a half worried half confused look. "Strange? Strange how?"

"Oh..I don't know. They seem to be acting a little bit more.." You scrunched up your face thinking of the right words to use. "They seem..uh..A little bit more different from when I first met them I guess? Does that make sense?"

Your boyfriend blinked before humming and turning away. His face scrunching into a genuinely thoughtful look as he sipped at his drink once more. "..Now that you mention it, there has been a few strange occurrences that I've noticed." One in particular with Sanemi crossed his mind. The day Jake showed up a second time.

"Im sorry for taking so long. The owner was very understanding of the situation. Apparently he was not the first person who caused a fight at the bar."

You continued to finish up wiping at your eyes face still red from crying and anger. Blinking before turning to toss the napkin in a nearby trashcan. This day was a disaster. It started out great but ended up being just a mess. You scowled at nothing but blinked when two large hands suddenly cupped your cheeks and tilted you up to the concerned look of Gyomei.

"Are you alright?"

You blinked before nodding. "Y-Yes. I'm ok. *sniff*" Although you did sigh and lean into the comforting touch of his hands.

"I'm sorry. I should've been there. This is the second time I wasn't there when he was around."

"I-It wasn't your fault."

"No. I should've been there. I have no excuses."

"Listen to her, Mei." A hand plopping onto his side had Gyomei turning towards Sanemi. "You were talking to your MOM. Sides you think a bastard like that cares about anyone else but himself? It's no one's dam fault but his and if he has at least one working braincell-" SMACK! He quickly smacked a fist into his palm. A strained smile on his face. "-he'll stay away. If not I have no problem knocking some more sense into 'em."

"I-I appreciate that."

"Tch. No one touches my girls and gets away with it."

... Gyomei turned his head with a brow raised to him. "'My girls'?"

"OUR girls!," Sanemi quickly corrected looking at him. "Kanae shouldn't have gone through that neither did your girlfriend! I'm not wrong!"

Gyomei raised a brow higher with a hum as Sanemi sweated under him.

Hmm... Perhaps he had meant it just as a platonic way. After all Mitsuri had 'girlfriends' who were just friends but still referred to them as her girlfriends. Perhaps Sanemi was also referring to his girlfriend as a friend who just also happened to be a girl? Most likely. But could it be possible that maybe just maybe that Sanemi-...?

"...Well, I can't deny that I have noticed one or two instances-," he admitted finally,"-but i don't think it's anything to worry over."

"Are you sure? Shinobu and Giyuu especially seemed to be a bit more...cheerful?"

Yes. He noticed that too. Both Giyuu and Shinobu were usually very stoic, somber, and reserved people even if Shinobu often smiled hiding her more.. upsetting emotions. But lately he's very much noticed a shift in their tones. Much more happy and uplifting, which was surprising. Not a bad thing but surprising for sure. Especially since Giyuu was so much more talkative. He wasn't the only one who noticed too. Rengoku had commented to him on Giyuu's new confidence to speak.

"Tomioka spoke a lot today about how best to treat a sprained wrist! I didn't know he could speak so much!"

Then again he noticed little changes in Kanae too. Not the sudden personality shift like her sister but he did notice that when he mentioned his girlfriend to them she'd always pipe up first asking how she was doing and if he would be BRINGING her anytime soon. Which was a nice gesture but he expected that kind of quirk to come out of Mitsuri or Suma. To be fair Mitsuri had asked him a dozen times the same question, but he already expected her to do that. Were the sudden changes bad?...No. But he was wondering why it was happening. He'd just keep an ear listening for now.

"I wouldn't worry about it like I said. But if it's making you uncomfortable-"

You held up your hands. "Oh no. I'm fine. It's just that I've noticed that they seemed more cheerful is all. I guess it's just because the party is almost here and this is going to be the last major project of this year."

"That could be it. Halloween is Shinobu's favorite holiday. I'm sure everything will be fine," he assured you with a smile. "In the meantime would you like to hear about my major? You mentioned wanting to know more about it."

You were thankful for the subject change. Gyomei's right. It was probably you overthinking it and the fact the party was coming up. "I'd love to!"

You had quickly brushed off your concerns after that. After all, if Gyomei wasn't concerned about it then why should you be? All progressed as normally as the days went on. You'd go to work, and see Sanemi twice a day dropping off his little brother and he seemed to be in a better mood than the time he threatened to rip the Karen into pieces. Sometimes Kanae would be accompanying him and you two would chat for a few minutes before they left. You still were doing the project with Shinobu and Giyuu. Sometimes it was all three of you, or just one of them, or you'd be by yourself and just send the video to Shinobu via email.

But you did receive your Tupperware back from Giyuu who looked sheepish when you thanked him and promised to make more delicious food for the couple. You also gave Mitsuri the food you promised to make for her. She was over the moon..and then proceeded to nearly end you in a bone crushing hug. Luckily you were saved by Mei and were able to continue breathing. However you still couldn't shake the feeling that there was something else you were missing with these interactions.

Like it was right there but you couldn't figure it out. Oh well. You were sure it'd come out sooner or later.

What mattered right now was just figuring out what to do for the party as Halloween was fastly approaching. It was hard not to notice with all the decorations hung on the streets and in stores, and the numerous costumes being bought out. But you weren't aware of the disaster that would soon befall you when it came to costumes. It was one of two days before the party actually and you were baking some sugar cookies in the shapes of pumpkins to take to the party, as a small thank you to Kyojuro for inviting you and it'd be rude to show up without bringing something in your opinion, when Gyomei Mitsuri asked you a question.

"Hey. Are you going to be dressing up for the party?"

You turned oven mitts on and hot tray in your hands. Mitsuri was there with her hair tied up and a pink apron thrown over herself. A little bit aways from her was Obanai making himself comfortable in a chair. At the moment he was drinking from a straw pushed under the medical mask he always wore and sipping on the tea you offered him. 

You hadn't invited him over but Mitsuri dragged him along in order for you and him to get better aquatinted as you both were Gyomei's partners. Her words not yours. Obanai was quiet but he was very polite. He seemed to be awkward just standing there, so you decided to offer him something to drink and sit down while Mitsuri helped you bake enough cookies. She'd offered to help you after you spoke with her about having a lot of stuff already on your plate so you gladly took her up on that offer. However you did notice that Obanai wasn't really drinking the tea-

"Do you not like it, Iguro?" He hummed looking at you in question. You nodded towards his teacup. "The tea. Do you not like camomile? I can make you something different if you want."

"Nah. M' fine."

You didn't say anything about it but he still continued to just sit there holding the cup as he watched Mitsuri. After a moment longer of him silently sitting there, you had paused in your baking to go rummaging through the kitchen drawers and a second later returned with a reusable plastic straw. Obanai was surprised when you just silently plopped it down into his cup before you went on back to business like nothing happened. He stood there staring at it before looking at his lovestruck girlfriend. But accepted the gift poking the straw under his mask to drink. 

But back to present you blinked at her before carefully placing the hot tray of cookies to the side. "Yeah actually. I have an old bridesmaid dress from my cousin's wedding. I can just wear that and throw on a masquerade mask." Maybe not the most creative costume ever but it was affordable. 

"Can I see?"

"Sure! Let's put the last batch in the oven and I'll show you!"

Mitsuri was happy to follow you. Practically bouncing off the walls as you lead her to a random closet and started to rummage through the small space. Pushing a few boxes around until you found the medium sized black box you were looking for. Pulling it out and blowing some dust off. You opened the lid-

And a squeal left both of you as moths fluttered out.

The fluttered about some going down the halls while others perched onto the ceiling. You both just blinked at the insects before Mitsuri bent down and slowly returned back, holding up the remains of what was once a nice white dress now tattered and ridden with holes. You both just stared at it before you frowned.

"My dress!" Hands gently grabbed at the barely clinging on fabric. "It's ruined. Now what am I supposed to do?...I guess I can just wear the mask."

Mitsuri still looked at the tatters before she smiled. "Y'know ..I think I have some old costumes from a few theater performances I danced in? I got one that'll fit you perfectly I think! You can totally borrow it!"

"Really?!"

She nodded. "Yep! I'll even come by before the party and help you get dressed!"

"Mitsuri, you're a life saver! How can I ever repay you?"

"Lemme take some of those cookies home and we'll call it even!"

You couldn't help but giggle at the happy look in her eyes. "Sure. Just don't take all of them."

Whelp!

Mitsuri kept her word for helping you dress up. However you couldn't help but feel a bit surprised by her sudden arrival. It was a couple hours before the party and you were busy packing up the many, many cookies when there was a knock on the door. Huh. Couldn't have been Gyomei. He wasn't supposed to show up for another hour or two. However you did take time out to go check the door. Opening it up to reveal a very dapperly dressed bubbly girl on the other side.

Oh wow.

Mitsuri looked stunning!

A very pretty bubble gum pink and white Lolita style dress was adorning her body with matching heels, and black stripes draped over her shoulders and middle securing two glittery white fake dove wings to her back while her face was all dolled up in a way that just highlighted her already cute features. A black duffle bag hanging from her hand.

"TADA!! Whaddya think?!", she proclaimed holding out her arms proudly. "I'm a Cupid!"

You smiled brightly. "Mitsuri, you're beautiful!" Your compliment earnt a delightful squeal from her. "What are you doing here? Mei's already taking me to the party."

"Oh I know that, Silly. However I'm here for a different reason!" Her smirk widened as she held up the duffle bag. "Once I'm done with you, the others are going to be forced to fall over themselves!"

You rose a brow confused by what she said, but didn't get a chance to speak before you were suddenly grabbed and hauled off to the nearest changing room. 

***************

Spooky sound effects were going off about the large room. A wolf's howl sounding off as the eerie fog rolled across the floor from the fog machine. Tiny footsteps were toddling along with each drag of the cloth gliding across the floors behind him. Edging closer and closer and closer to the target as they slowed down. Eyeing the man in sights from behind the chair leg. Before the unsuspecting man knew it, something dashed in front of her-

"BOO!"

Tengen blinked as Koto jumped out from behind the snack table. The cheap ghost costume made from an old kitchen sheet with two eye holes in it swayed as he held up his arms.  After a moment the toddler waved his hands again.

"Boo?"

The silver haired man blinked before smiling. "*GASP!* OH NO!" He 'gasped' dramatically clutching a hand to his chest. "It's a ghost! Whatever shall I do?!"

"It otay, Ten-Ten!" The sheet was lifted revealing the excited face of the tot. "It me!"

"Koto? Oh my gosh. I didn't recognize you!"

"I scare you?!"

"Yes! Very much! You look just like a real ghost!" Tengen smiled wider hearing the toddler giggle before redawning his costume and running off to 'scare' his next victim.

"Aw! That was so cute!" He turned from the snack table to the cooing voice and found himself staring at Suma cooing at him and clutching a couple snacks already. The fake blood around her mouth a bit smeared from her snacking. "You're so good with kids, Hun!"

That made him chuckle. "Well to be fair, the little tyke did surprise me. The fog machine Kyo set up makes him blend in." He was finally able to get some 'witch's brew' punch and took a look around the room. "He really went all out."

The giant living room AND kitchen were both filled up with his partners and their families...Well most of their families. Sanemi's siblings were only staying for a little bit before their mom and Genya took the youngest ones trick or treating. Oh they all had generic costumes that their mom got for cheap. Two just had a few fake vampire teeth shoved into their mouths and Called it a day, a pair of witches, and lil Koto running around in that ghost sheet. He couldn't help but chuckle watching Mitsuri's brother jumping as suddenly the toddler popped out from under the table. 

The place looked great!

Low lights. Fake fog. A dozen rubber bars dangling from the ceiling. And a few jack-o'-lanterns carved and placed around the rooms glowing brightly. Not to mention the great food all laid out for their enjoyment. Nothing alcoholic of course considering the influx of kids. He was fine with that, but he did wish the drinks included something else besides regular fruit punch. At least stock up on a few sodas. 

"When's Mitsuri gonna get here? She's like running super late which is totally unlike her."

"Eh. She said somethin' about picking up Mei? I think."

No sooner had he said that then there was a loud knock on the door. Loud enough to be heard over the spooky music and sound effects being blasted out of Kyojuro's speakers and attract the attention of said flamed haired host whom perked up immediately. Kyojuro excused himself from talking to Kanae and Shinobu's parents to quickly shuffle over and answered the door. Opening it up widely and smiling as Mitsuri and Gyomei stood there. Her lace and ribbon outfit popping out against the dulled colors of Gyomei's own outfit. Wrapped up in random bandages and shifting around a long strand of red prayer beads. 

"WE'RE HERE!", her loud voice announced their prescense causing a few heads to turn to them. "DO YOU LIKE OUR COSTUMES?!"

"YES! You both look stunning!," Kyojuro's also naturally loud voice echoed throughout the room as he happily smiled. "I'm glad you both could make it! But I don't see Y/n with either of you."

Mitsuri waved him off. "Oh she's right behind us. She baked some cookies for the party and just getting them real quick."

"How thoughtful! Please come in! Your family's already here!" They didn't have to be told twice. He gladly stepped aside to allow them inside before looking back out. Bushy eyebrows rose in surprise seeing who was walking their way slowly up the steps. "Well my goodness. Your costume is absolutely stunning, Y/n!"

"Thanks! I really like yours too!"

"Much thanks! Are those cookies I smell?" 

"Yes! You want one?"

"Why thank you!" No one could see past Kyojuro's frame in the doorway but his arm moved and a moment later he shouted. "UMAI!" A few giggles from a girl escaped. "It's quite delicious!"

"They're sugar cookies. May I come in?"

"By all means!"

His frame moved back revealing a pumpkin shaped cookie in his hand and then a second later a parade of glimmer stepped through the doorway- CHOKE!! A loud choke sound escaped Sanemi's throat as he saw the woman walking in through the doorway, nearly choking on the half eaten taffy he swiped from the candy bowl. A similar reaction rippling through the others in the room as she stepped into the room.

A beautiful white sparkly ruffled dress was thrown over her body as a beautiful crown of glass diamonds and dripping beads sat regally on top of her styled hair. A matching white fake gemmed choker slapped onto her neck as she smiled pretty. 

"Thanks, Kyojuro."

Said man nodded still chewing on the cookie in his hand. His costume was easy to guess. With the fake horns and ears he was obviously a dragon. Somehow seemed very fitting for the fiery haired man. Stepping inside you were immediately able to spot so many familiar faces. The first three being the sisters. All three of them dawned gothic like outfits minus a pair of pink or purple pretty plastic butterfly wings strapped to them the same way Mitsuri had her angel wings strapped to her. So they were fairies? Butterflies maybe? You greeted the staring trio with a smile before heading on over to the table full of food. Your other friends were crowding around there including Giyuu and Sanemi whom were both staring wide eyed and silently at you. 

"Hi, Giyuu! Hi, Sanemi!", you happily greeted the men as they stared before turning to the others. "Hello, Tengen. It's nice to see you again!"

Said white haired man winked and sent a finger gun your way. "That's a flashy outfit you got there.~"

"Thank you! Mitsuri's letting me borrow one of her theater costumes." Taking a moment you looked in up and down. He was just wearing a pair of black pants and a t shirt that was opened up at chest a little bit with either fake blood or the red punch e was drinking spilt all over his mouth. "What are you supposed to be?"

He smiled wider and happily showed off fake fangs. "Why I'm the most flashy vampire this side of Japan." With a growl he quickly turned around to three similarly dressed ladies in white dresses and more fake blood. "Along with his three beautiful flamboyant brides he's going to make love too later.~" Suma giggled at his bad vampire accent as the other two rolled their eyes at his flirting. 

"You guys look great!" You turned back to the other two staring men still smiling. "Nice Jiangshi costume, Giyuu! It matches your complexion. ...Um." Your brow rose at Sanemi placing the tray back down onto the table with the other food. Sanemi didn't look any different from his usual attire. Black pants, white button up shirt, black vest- The only difference was that he was wearing black gloves. "What are you supposed to be?"

Both still stared wide eyed making Tengen roll his eyes. "Romeo over here got lazy and just put on some gloves. Says he's supposed to be a 'body guard'." He made air quotations with the hand that wasn't holding a drink. 

That seemed to snap Sanemi out of it because he whipped around angry at Tengen. "Oh like your costumes any better! All ya got is some new dentures and smeared lipstick smothered all over your face! You look like you let my brother do your makeup!"

Tengen gasped. "How dare you? I happen to use my art skills and talent in this!"

"Yeah. The artistic levels of a preschooler maybe!"

Your hand held up to try to stop the arguing, but you were surprised when Giyuu calmly reached over to lower it. "Don't. They'll be making out with each other in the end anyways. They always do. Why don't you come speak to Shinobu with me? I bet they'll like your costume."

You did. Finding the sisters speaking to Mitsuri. The four of you complimenting each other on the pretty costumes they wore before Kanae insisted on you meeting their parents. ...Oookay? It was strange but the older couple was nice and they thanked you briefly for helping Kanao get the dress she wanted. You casually shuffled around to go back to Gyomei whom was talking to a man you didn't recognize at the moment. Mitsuri was OVERJOYED to use the opportunity to introduce the stranger to you as her father. ..And then dragged you all the way across the room to meet her mom. ..And then back across the room to meet her little brother who was stuffing his face with your cookies. Guess both siblings had appetites. 

She went on and on about how her parents owned a small business in town and how her brother was a senior in highschool but he wanted to study botany and on and on. It must've been at least an hour since you stepped in here and already were shoved into meeting with so many strangers. They all seemed like nice people though who welcomed you like you were just another one of them..

Oh goodness. You hoped they didn't mistake you for a new partner of theirs. 

F/c eyes blinked as suddenly a plastic cup filled with red fruit punch was held in front of your face suddenly. Blinking at the liquid you followed the hand holding said cup all the way up to Kyojuro whom was brightly smiling at you like a ball of sunshine. 

"Here! I'd be a bad host if I did not make sure all my guests were having a good time, and by the looks of it you could use something to drink," he politely offered.

With a smile you took the drink offered to you. "Thank you. Yeah. Mitsuri's dragged me around since I got here." 

He let out a few laughs from the statement as you took a drink. Hey. This was pretty good punch. "I would expect nothing else from her! She's very passionate and that's a quality I love about her!"

You nodded politely out of agreement. "Mm. This is really good punch."

"THANK YOU! It's actually homemade!"

"Really? I'd love the recipe."

"You can ask my mother." He turned and pointed a hand to point out the kitchen just as Obanai dressed up as a doctor strolled out holding up a plate of half eaten cake. Ah. So that's where he's been hiding out. "She's the one who made it for the party."

"Oh. Thank you."

He politely accompanied you over towards the kitchen area. You've been there before on your first meeting with Mei's other partners but it looked different. Like the large living room, it too had been decorated with a single jack-o'-lantern on the table and a few black paper bats tapped to the walls. Not as decorated as the main party room but you appreciated the effort Kyojuro took to decorate his home. 

Only four other people were in the kitchen area when Kyojuro escorted you in. Shinobu was one of them, digging around in the fridge before retrieving a soda can she wanted and left but smiled at you both. The other three were sitting and standing around the table and-...Well.

You could DEFINITELY tell Kyojuro was related to them.

How could you tell? Simple. They all looked EXACTLY alike! In fact you had to blink at first just to be sure you weren't seeing things, but no. Before your eyes was not one but TWO men that looked like carbon copies of Kyojuro with the only differences being ages. At the table sat a middle aged couple. A man whom looked like an older, annoyed version of Kyojuro and a woman with red eyes and black hair. Standing next to the woman and eating cake was a teenage boy who looked maybe around fifteen (and also looked like a younger version of Kyojuro) and similarly dressed up as a dragon. 

They all sat there but looked up as Kyojuro came in. He still brightly smiled as he greeted them. "Mother! Father! I don't think you've been introduced yet!" With a hand on your shoulder he happily gestured to you. "This is Y/n! She's Gyomei's new girlfriend and came for the party!" He then turned to you. "Y/n, these are my parents and my brother Senjuro!"

You chuckled. "I see the resemblance."

The older man grunted not bothering to change his expression or remove his head from his hand. Leading the woman to give him a sad glance before smiling at you. "It's nice to meet you. Are you my son's new lover?"

Well THAT was blunt. Your mind blanked a little bit at the question mouth opened slightly but Kyojuro only laughed her off. "Oh no. Nothing like that. She's only interested in Gyomei." 

You made a mental note to thank Kyo for the save later and sighed. "H-He's right. I was actually just interested in the recipe for the punch you made." Your cup was held up. "It's actually really good."

Her smile widened slightly wider. "Oh? Why thank you. It's a family recipe."

"Are you a cook then?"

"Actually I teach calligraphy at my youngest's school." She smiled at the man next to her. "And Shinjuro runs a dojo."

"You mean USED to run a dojo," the man grunted out still not bothering to look up from the table.

Immediately the air shifted to an awkward silence other than the background noises of distant talking and Halloween music. ..That is until Kyojuro coughed. "You still run it, Father."

"Not for long with the dwindling students."

"What do you teach?" The question escaped you before you could stop yourself.

The question got a surprised reaction from most everyone at the table, the man even bothering to look up at you slightly surprised but soon reverted back to that grumpy expression again. "Tch. Why do you want to know?"

You shrugged. "Curious is all."

A bushy black brow rose at you looking you up and down before he grunted and rolled his eyes. "Self defense. I don't even know why I'm here!"

"Because you need to get out of the house." Kyojuro's mother sternly but also softly said reaching out to give her husband's hand a squeeze. "Moping around isn't good for you. You need to socialize with people."

"What good would that do me? It's not as if anything will change."

"It might if you go talk and pass out the business cards we made together."

"Business cards?"

"Yes! Wait a second." Senjuro quickly paused his eating to look at the table and reached out to a decently sized stack of small cards you didn't notice before. He was quick to hold one out to you, which you slowly took. "Father teaches karate and kendo! One of his students even won the national kendo championships three years ago!"

"When I wasn't having bad luck." The older man's mumblings got worried looks and frowns from his family but you paid no mind to it.

The card was pretty standard. The presumed name of the dojo with 'Shinjuro Rengoku' written under it followed by a phone number and address. Presumably the phone number and address for the dojo. A flame design decorating the edges. Kinda reminded you of the cards your aunt would pass around promoting her matchmaker business. 

"Senjuro. Why don't you go around and pass out the cards, Honey? Maybe it might stir up some business."

"Okay, Mom."

You looked back up just as Senjuro pushed past you heading back into the living room. Your eyes looked back up and back towards the huge snack of cards still there. 

"Oi! Kyo, where's those dam treat bags?," Sanemi called out from the other room. "Ma's leaving and my sibs want their candy."

"Coming!" He turned back to you. "I'm sorry to leave you suddenly like this."

"Oh no. It's ok. I better get back to Mei before he thinks I ditched him." You politely bowed to the older couple. "It was nice meeting you two. Have a Happy Halloween."

There was a grunt from the man but the woman smiled. "Of course. If you ever feel like learning how to defend yourself please consider stopping by our studio."

"I will. Thank you."

Both of you left the older couple alone and left the room to tend to the other guests and to find your boyfriend before Gyomei came to find you himself worried. However you were bothered by something. 

"Kyojuro." He turned to you with a hum. "Your dad seems pretty upset. Is he ok?"

The flamed haired man paused for a second before sighing and a rare frown graced his features. "I'm afraid lately things have been hard for him. You see my father runs quite a big business, but within the last few years that business has slowed down quite a lot. Fewer and fewer students have been joining." He forced himself to smile again. "But I'm sure things will turn back around in no time! Things always have a knack of sorting themselves out."

You hummed again taking another glance back towards the kitchen. "I see..I hope things get better for your family."

"Thank you, Y/n! That's very kind of you! Please excuse me. I must tend to Sanemi's family."

The hours ticked away as the sun went down and the sky got darker and darker. Later and later it got and slowly people started to leave if they weren't staying the night. One after the other with goodie bags or boxes up leftovers to take home.

"Safe driving! Thanks for stopping by!", Kyojuro called out waving from his doorway as Mitsuri bounced off to drive her parents and little brother back home. "HAPPY HALLOWEEN!" 

Senjuro paused in his helping to clean up to gaze at his brother. "Was that everyone?"

With a nod the door was closed and he happily turned back to his brother. "Indeed! It was a fun night wasn't it?"

"Yeah! Do you think maybe Father will feel better now?"

A hum was given off. "We have to keep on the bright side of things. Why don't you take those dishes to the sink and clear the table? I'll get the broom."

Senjuro nodded before scattering off towards the kitchen. He was happy to help tidy up dropping off the dirty dishes into the sink before returning to the kitchen table to start picking up more dishes randomly left out.. Before he paused blinking at a specific spot upon the polished wood.

"Huh.. Didn't we have more cards sitting here?"

...He shrugged it off assuming he must've been mistaken or someone else already collected them up. 

[seventh-district]

update. i have spent the last seven hours trying every possible position i can situate my body in that will alleviate this god-awful pain and i have reached a rather fascinating conclusion

screaming shaking crying trembling wailing sobbing throwing up punching the wall in anguish and agony and angst etc etc etc

[makorragal-312]

Why the BuckTommy break-up fell flat narratively...

Disclaimer: I am not defending this ship. I hate it and I'm glad it's dead.

1. Prior to the break-up, he made a jab at Abby for dating a guy half her age and riding Buck off as "a himbo." Even though he's literally doing the same exact thing.

That, kids, is what we call "hypocrisy."

2. Tommy said that he "knows how the relationship ends."

Sir, if you know how it ends, why did you go for it in the first place? This just gives off that he was only dating Buck either for a good time or because Eddie wasn't showing any signs of interest, so he just settled for his bestie.

3. Tommy tries to pawn off the catalyst of the relationship ending on Buck, saying that he would "break his heart."

Even though HE was the one doing all the heart-breaking shit to BUCK throughout the entire goddamn relationship.

4. Josh's dumbass advice.

Okay, that's not fair. Josh's advice wasn't dumb per-say, but it was completely irrelevant to Buck's issue. I know that he probably doesn't really know who Tommy is, but making him sound like he was this gay pioneer who led the charge at Stonewall and that his scars should be respected?

Absolute nope.

It ended up making Buck's move-in proposal feel like he was doing it out of obligation because Tommy's been out longer than he has, so why shouldn't he ask him to move in with him?

And on that topic...

5. The return of the hamster wheel

You would think that after dumping Taylor the way he did, Buck would remember that he doesn't necessarily have to hold on to relationships that aren't working and he can just cut it loose, right?

Wrong.

Instead, they have Buck actually take Josh's advice and pull a Taylor 2.0 by asking Tommy to move in with him. This show continues to leave Buck on that fucking hamster wheel instead of letting him get off and it's working my nerve. Even if this was just the show's way of showing that Buck's toxic relationship tendencies don't change because he's with someone of the same sex, it's still redundant and annoying.

6. Buck.

The first and only time Tommy chooses to refer to Buck by his preferred name is when he's dropping him like a baked potato.

And the show never even gave Buck the chance to tell him off about it.

The fucking audacity.

And finally,

7. TOMMY KINARD HIMSELF

This whole scene, the narrative tries to paint Tommy out to be this sympathetic character all throughout, making him look all sad and talking about how "he knew the parking spot was too good to be true" and citing Buck to be the one who would break his heart.

Despite the fact that he literally broke Buck's again just seconds ago.

I'll never understand why the show decided to take this route with Tommy's character for the episode even though in past episodes, he's been canonically depicted to be insensitive at best and flat out bigoted at worse. And throughout the entirety of his and Buck's relationship, he has said and done things that have hurt Buck and he never even apologized for it. And if he did apologize, he gave a lame apology as to why he did do.

*cough* first date *cough cough*

And it definitely doesn't help matters that the show made the active choice not to bring up his past actions within the relationship or for Buck to even know about it. Instead, they made Abby the catalyst for the break up when it could've been Tommy himself being the catalyst.

Obviously, there were a million ways the show could've given the BuckTommy break-up a major impact and there were definitely ways they could've made the break-up solid with the Abby revelation.

All in all, the break-up could've been executed better, but at least the ship is dead.

[jinnie-ret]

STRAY KIDS MYSTERY INCORPORATED: WHO ATE THE LUCK?!

episode one

ot8 stray kids

❀ genre: comedy, horror, fluff

❀ content warnings: mention of hypnosis

❀ word count: 2.9k-ish

❀ summary: all eight of them were settled down and cosy, ready to spend halloween together as a group, but it's felix's mistaken purchase that lands them where they are

a/n: hi everyone! Really excited to post this first part to my Halloween series of 2024! If you would like to be tagged then you can always reply to this post, pm me or even send in an ask! Hope you enjoy <3

SKMI: WHO ATE THE LUCK? MAIN MASTERLIST

“-like, nothing is screaming out at me right now,” Felix shook his head, lips pursed in concentration and eyes flitting back and forth as he scanned the shelves in the downtown video shop. The unfortunate phrasing caused Jisung to decide to scream into his ear and then frighten him in the process, Felix turning around and softly punching him on the shoulder. Jisung just chuckled in response.

“I screamed at you,” Jisung laughed again.

“What? I can’t hear anymore,” Felix rubbed the left side of his head, one of his hands covering his ear in protection. The two youngest, however, didn’t even bother to look over at the bickering of the sunshine twins. They had bigger priorities on their maknae line shopping trip.

“No, nope, nah,” Seungmin boredly ran his finger across some DVDs, bored of the same old Halloween films.

“Oh we should watch Nightmare on Elm Street!” Jeongin suggested, picking the case up off of the dusty shelves.

“Really?” Seungmin turned to Jeongin, curious of his choice, “Freddy Krueger just isn’t that scary though.”

“Yeah, he is,” Jisung shuddered, taking the DVD away from Jeongin and placing it back on the shelf.

“Hyung!”

“What do you find scary then, Seungmin-ah?” Felix moved away from where he had previously been browsing, and stood next to his fellow member.

Seungmin’s gaze drifted up at the ceiling as he tried to think of something that actually did cause him fear.

“And don’t say Minho hyung,” Felix cut in just as Seungmin had experienced a lightbulb moment.

“Dammit… Well, I don’t know, then. Even Groundskeeper Willy is creepier as Freddy than Freddy is himself. The Simpsons really went all out, but it wasn’t scary,” Seungmin considered for a moment, sighing at the lack of selection in the shop.

“Oh yeah! The Simpsons was so good. We used to have those Halloween episodes on DVD,” Felix clapped his hands excitedly at the memory.

“I think we used to have some on tape when I was younger,” Jisung added. The boys continued to chat amongst themselves, sharing childhood favourites as they reminisced over the titles they saw. However, it was that keyword, ‘tape’, that caught the attention of the kooky old shopkeeper, thick framed glasses with an orange beaded chain that contrasted greatly with her curly, grey hair.

She ducked into the back of the shop, which was sectioned off from the public area. Most would assume it was just where spare stock was kept to replace items that would eventually be sold, but it was also for her special collection of items - ones that only a few select people she deemed as worthy for the challenge would receive. After climbing up her mobile step ladder and grabbing her chosen artefact, she brought it towards the members, ready to persuade them to purchase.

“-there’s nothing saying we can’t pick something lighthearted to watch,” Jeongin suggested. Even with a plethora of options before them, they were stuck in a cycle of one idea being suggested and then shut down within the next minute.

“Perhaps I could be of assistance,” the old lady made her presence known, standing behind them with a big smile on her face and a tape machine in her hands.

“Oh! All of a sudden?” Jisung’s head whipped around so quickly he could probably qualify as something from The Exorcist.

“Annyeonghaseyo,” the other three proceeded to bow politely.

“I couldn’t help but overhear you discussing tapes, so I thought I’d show you something from out back,” she presented them with the tape machine in her hands, an old silver coating with a circular logo, ‘INTA’, plastered in the middle. The boys were none the wiser and thought she was such a sweet old lady, just doing her best to give good customer service.

“Oh wowww!” Felix nodded and grinned, taking the machine from her hands and looking at the object with fascination. Sure, it was computers and keyboards he liked to take apart, build and rework, but there was something entrancing about what he now held.

“Thank you, but we don’t have any tapes,” Seungmin tried to shut down the unneccessary payment.

“I have one that was specially released alongside this machine. Although, boys, I must let you in on a secret,” she whispered, making the boys share concerned yet intrigued looks.

“What is it?” Jeongin asked.

“There is only one version released in the whole world. I’ve got it here for you if you like? Have you ever watched The Scooby Doo Show?”

“What a sweet lady! I can’t believe she gave us a discount too,” Felix cheered happily, clutching a bag of goodies to his chest.

“She must have really wanted to get rid of this old VHS player,” Seungmin mentioned as they headed back to Hyunjin and Changbin’s place, the former being excited to decorate for Halloween.

“I don’t know, I think it was just good customer service. She heard us talking about tapes,” Jisung said in defence of the whimsical old woman.

“Hyung… you probably think good customer service is when the owner actually gives you your change,” Jeongin poked Jisung on the shoulder from behind, as he walked side by side with Felix.

“Yah! At least I didn’t nearly end up in a cult!”

Meanwhile, back at the Hyunbin apartment, the hyung line of the group were setting up the place to get ready for their spooky evening. Chan and Minho were tasked with getting food ready, the latter preparing the hot food and Chan doing his best to arrange the sweet snacks in an aesthetically pleasing way; he was instructed by Hyunjin to do so. Said guy was on decorating duty and he had roped in his cute housewife Changbin to do the heavy lifting.

“Why is this skeleton so heavy? It’s a skeleton!” Changbin whined as he carried the large structure into the lounge area.

“You said you wouldn’t complain,” Hyunjin tutted.

“Just tell me where you want it!” Changbin huffed, a tinge of desperation in his voice. He would have placed it down to give his muscular arms a break but he would have only been further scolded by Hyunjin for not treating the figure with more caution.

“Hmm, let's put it next to the TV,” Hyunjin nodded with approval, arms crossed and one hand cupping his chin as he appraised the haunting scene that had been created.

Intricately carved, orange pumpkins were illuminated by lit candles, projecting silhouettes of either sharp, scary faces or the Stray Kids logo (that last one was Chan’s hard work). They rested on a side table, which had fake cobwebs strewn up and across to the ceilings, even trailing over the blinds. The sheerness of these delicate furnishings were highlighted by the glowing green fairy lights hung alongside them, each LED encapsulated by a Frankenstein head. Minho had insisted on purchasing those, as it reminded him of the lyrics to Maniac. Everything else in the room was placed to only heighten the mood, little trinkets and knick knacks like black plastic bowls shaped like bats, light up skull heads and an oddly cute haunted house ornament, the words Oddinary House branded on the bottom of it.

“Perfect!” Hyunjin clapped his hands surveying his surroundings.

“Wow… this looks great!” Chan brought in some bowls of sweets, Minho on his toes with steaming hot plates of savoury foods to balance everything out.

“This smells so good,” Changbin groaned from the sofa now, ready to recharge after following Hyunjin’s commands for the past hour or so.

“Hands off, Dwaekki,” Minho playfully scolded, tapping Changbin’s hands so he kept them to himself, “the others aren’t even back yet.”

Just as if it was on cue, the other four boys returned, Seungmin being the one to unlock the door after earning the responsibility to borrow a spare key.

“Wow!”

“This looks sick”

“Woah the food smells good too!”

“It’s still hot too!”

They instantly made themselves comfy amongst the sofas and blanketed carpet, excited for their evening. The eldest in the group couldn’t help but be curious by the bag Felix was rummaging through.

“How many films did you buy?” Chan looked over Felix’s shoulders.

“Just the one, but you’ll never guess what else we got…” Jeongin trailed off.

Felix sneezed as he brought out the machine, and the somehow pristine encased tape of ‘Scooby Doo Mystery Incorporated: Who Ate The Luck?’.

“A tape machine? VHS?” Minho raised a brow, but couldn’t stop his curiosity.

“Isn’t it so cool?” Felix grinned widely, now kneeling in front of the TV to set everything up.

“I definitely didn’t expect this,” Changbin thought out loud.

“Neither did we, but Lixie seemed pretty excited about it,” Jisung shrugged, and Hyunjin shot him a knowing look. It was hard to say no to the sunshine boy, all of the members knew this and felt the same way.

“What are we watching?” Chan excitedly asked, rubbing his hands together giddily. He loved having these moments where although the members were separated through living situations, they would ultimately always come back together.

“Scooby Doo!” Felix brandished the tape and held it in the air proudly, like it was a prized possession. It certainly was… something.

“Wait… they have Scooby Doo in Korea?!” Chan gasped in shock. Even though he had been living in South Korea from the age of 13, he had no idea.

“Yeah, I loved that show!” Changbin nodded along, now thrilled at the idea of watching a childhood classic, rather than a horror movie.

“This really wasn’t what I was expecting,” Minho chuckled fondly, a part of him finding it cute and endearing that his younger members had returned with this as the pick of the evening.

“I wasn’t either but the lady at the shop said it’s the only copy of this version,” Seungmin commented, sneakily picking at the popcorn on the table.

“Wahhh! It must be special then,” Hyunjin snuggled into his blanket on the sofa, watching as the machine started whirring, a small glow around it after Felix pressed play.

“Sit here, Lixie,” Jeongin patted the spot on the floor next to him, holding a cushion to give to the other boy.

The tape started to load onto the screen, the Warner Brothers’ logo eerily emerging into view, a swirling spiral behind the text. The boys didn’t even realise the trance they were falling into, the feeling of being utterly relaxed and enraptured at the same time was something that they would have explained as their enthusiasm to the evening. Each and every set of eyes in the room had their pupils dilating, the black and white swirls from the screen imprinted on them. It was weird. There were no verbal instructions given to make them feel so hypnotised, yet with the disappearance of the production’s logo fading away and the increasing vividness of the spirals snaking around the screen, it took one click before the screen went black, and the lounge was empty. The VHS player continued to glow, whirring away, and all the snacks were abandoned, no one to enjoy them. The decorations - no one to enjoy them. Just like that, each and every member of Stray Kids had disappeared, only to be trapped in a world they had no idea how to navigate.

Five teenagers found themselves stuck in a police cell, in the local station of Coolsville, a district in the city of Miroh. They all shared looks, having the same feeling of disorientation. Why were they here?

Fred Jones didn’t know that he was once Bang Chan. He felt the same as normal in that sense. He had a light blue denim jacket, white t-shirt underneath and a cheap, orangey gold chain visible underneath the collar. Fluffy blonde hair sat atop his head, shifting ever so slightly each time he looked over the gang, trying to figure out a way to escape.

Daphne Blake didn’t know that she was once Yang Jeongin. She felt the same as normal in that sense. She paced back and forth in her tall, violet heels, albeit she was stumbling occasionally, which ultimately led her to resting against the wall, arms folded. She had to tug down her dress, and found herself fussing at her own hair, adjusting the lime green necktie to rest more comfortably.

Velma Dinkley didn’t know that she was once Seo Changbin. She felt the same as normal in that sense. Oddly, she was pushing up her thick black glasses more often than she would normally like to, and pulling at the sleeves of her orange turtleneck to accommodate for her toned arms. She stood firmly looking through the bars of the cell, a book clutched in her arms.

Norville Rogers, better known as Shaggy, didn’t know that he was once Hwang Hyunjin. However, he was none the wiser most of the time, and simply found comfort in clutching onto the arm of his dog hybrid friend Scooby Doo. He didn’t know that he was once Kim Seungmin. Here he was, wearing a matching pair of a brown jumper and slacks, that Shaggy’s dad had leant him after taking in the poor boy to the Rogers’ home. Shaggy also had hand-me-downs from his father, choosing to go for a pair of maroon trousers and a fitted bright green top that he stole from the top shelf of his mother’s wardrobe.

It wasn’t their identities they were worried about, it was more so the fact that they had been arrested when all they were trying to do was seek out the villains causing havoc in their district.

“Are you finished with the celebrations now?” the sheriff finally made his appearance, coming right up to them and making his appearance known.

“Oh come on, sheriff! You gotta let us out,” Fred huffed.

“Let me just stop you there. You see this badge?” the sheriff proudly tipped up the shiny star pinned to his white shirt, PJY engraved onto it, “you know why it’s here?”

“It came with the shirt,” Velma pointed out boredly, completely done with any interaction they’d have with the man.

“If there’s a crime, then I’m the one to solve it, not some teenagers who should be paying attention in school,” he was quick to inform them, “and, oh, by the way, I’ve told all your parents you’re here. Got them on speed dial. I’m sure they’ll be pleased.” With that he turned around, his black hair styled with a middle parting from the 90s flapping about as he smugly left the room. His see through plastic trousers crinkled audibly with each step, mixing in with the sounds of disgust from Daphne.

“How is he our sheriff wearing that?” she turned up her nose in disgust.

“Like, I don’t know ‘bout you, but I think we got other things to worry about,” Shaggy shuddered in fear, tousling his dark blonde hair back.

“Mom and Dad are gonna be so mad,” Scooby looked around worriedly. Shaggy patted the head of his friend, closer to being his brother, in comfort.

“We need to find a way out. I’m not too good with these things though… I much prefer trapping than escaping,” Fred sheepishly admitted.

“I can do this,” Velma stepped up, about to unclip one of her red bobby pins before another voice interrupted them.

“I’m not trusting another thing you’re doing! We’re gonna do this Scrappy style!” a shorter dog hybrid, who had been previously crouched down in the corner of the cell, stood up. He didn’t know that he was once Han Jisung but that didn’t matter as much as bothering Scooby, who he insisted was his cousin. The Rogers family weren’t so sure on that one. Scrappy… he was a bit more of a wildcard. The gang knew this well. Half the time they’d never see him, the other, he was tagging along with them in aid to solve mysteries.

“Haven’t you done enough, Scrappy?” Daphne looked down at the boy, scanning the letterman jacket he paired with some brown jeans.

“It’s not my fault we’re in this mess! If it wasn’t for Shaggy dragging my cousin and you all into this, then we wouldn’t be here!” Scrappy frowned, stomping his foot indignantly.

“I don’t think I’m your cousin, Scrappy,” Scooby looked at the fellow hybrid. There were an amalgamation of different species in Coolsville, most commonly humans, yet you did find that there were a lot of different mixed hybrids around too.

“Guys, come on, let’s not lose focus of our task at hand,” Fred had to remind them all, “we’re gonna get out of this, Scrappy too.”

“Great,” Daphne sighed.

In a dark, dusty room, a large screen was displaying what nobody else in the world knew was a brand new recording. An old lady sat down with a cup of tea, blissfully enjoying the events unfolding right in front of her, after pressing the ��record’ button on her machine. She had done it again, fooled a sweet, trusting soul into playing into her deceiving schemes. There were still two of them yet to find their feet in their new roles, but she’d certainly have fun watching it all play out before her very eyes.

tagged: @night-storm7 @maisyyyyyy @imfoive @qwonyoung23 @linoalwaysknows @royal-shinigami @jolly04 @turtledove824 @yangbbokari @thisrandomgoofy15 @lieslab @hannamoon143 @arumlilyeclipse

[quinacridonered]

Rings of Power Recap - Season 2, Episode 6

Orc #1: All I wanted was to settle quietly in a suburb of Mordor.

Orc #2: You still can. 

Orc #3: Put a downpayment on an ox… 

Orc #1: Get a warg puppy for the wee ones…

Arondir: Nope.

—

Passing Mouse: You look like you’ve been subsisting on pizza, but apparently it’s all scrap metal?

Assistants: Good point. Lord Celebrimbor?

Celebrimbor: Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow… Creeps at this petty pace from day to day…

Mirdania: Shall we order some pizza, my lord?

Celebrimbor: Who the fuck are you?

Sauron: Perhaps you should stop spending the food budget on Red Bull and vodka.

—

Eregion Citizens: Lord Celebrimbor!

Sauron: I’m taking over. What’s up, citizens?

City Guards: The only inbound traffic has been dead bodies covered in foreign graffiti.

Sauron: All is well. You are getting very sleepy. 

Mirdania: I don’t feel sleepy. Your new dress is making me very awake indeed.

Sauron: Don’t worry, we’ll get you one just like it.

—

Orc Daddy: We both love-hate Sauron. Friends forever?

Galadriel: You are the only one who understands.

Orc Daddy: Look, I got you fresh produce and everything.

Galadriel: Aw. You’re really trying.

Orc Daddy: What’s new in your world?

Galadriel: *full disclosure of elven state secrets*

Orc Daddy: You know how Sauron makes you feel seen and understood, and then you give him what he wants, and then he totally fucks you over?

Galadriel: Uh-huh…

Orc Daddy: I did mention he was my leader and teacher for centuries, right?

Galadriel: What’s Black Speech for “fuck my life”?

—

Elendil: Traitor!

Pharazon: Takes one to know one.

Elendil: The Valar will show who’s right.

Pharazon: Brilliant idea. 

—

Homeless Wizard: What episode is it?

Tom Bombadil: Episode 6, why?

Homeless Wizard: Does time flow differently in Rhûn? My plot feels like it hasn’t moved in months.

Tom Bombadil: Fine. Here’s the next bit. Betray your friends or doom the world.

Homeless Wizard: Suddenly I miss when you were just forcing me to bathe.

—

Poppy’s Love Life: *occurs*

—

King Durin: Look who’s here!

Prince Durin: Annatar. You look… asymmetrical.

Sauron: What can I give you for more mithril? Timber? Grain? Eregion’s finest virgins every full moon?

Prince Durin: I need a shower just talking to you.

King Durin: I am knee deep in all the virgins I could possibly want.

Balrog, via Fire Zoom Call: Cousin! Missed ya, where you been?

Sauron:  Spent a millennium as evil goo. Not my best moment.

Balrog: Sworn enemies?

Sauron: Disloyal minions.

Balrog: Gets you every time.

King Durin: *taking notes* Watch out… for disloyal… minions…

—

Disa: Is he still…

Prince Durin: He’s worse.

Disa: I hear the League of Disloyal Minions is looking for new members.

Prince Durin: He’s my Dad. I can’t do it.

Disa: Who do you fear more, me or him?

Prince Durin: Tough call, but frankly, you.

—

Pharazon: We’re gonna feed you to the Sea Wyrm. 

Elendil: I’ll take that over your company.

Miriel: Over my dead body. I mean it literally.

Guards: Incoming!

Eldritch Marine Horror: I’m hangry.

Miriel: I am the rightful monarch of Numenor.

Eldritch Marine Horror: For fuck’s sake. This used to be a normal ocean. Now it’s crawling with the cosmically significant. Is there at least a fish and chips?

Pharazon: We can hook you up with some gumbo.

Crowd: MI-RI-EL!

Giant Eagle: My god, they are fickle here.

—

Eregion Citizens: Oh shit. Orcs. Many.

Sauron: Celebrimbor! Chop fucking chop! I can’t move this whole forge into a trebuchet projectile shelter now, can I? You wanted the world’s tallest tower and now you work in the world’s easiest target!

Celebrimbor: This is the point in our relationship where I normalise physical violence.

Sauron: Baby, I thought you’d never ask.

—

Hallucinatory Eregion Citizens: What a fine sunny day we are having in the middle of the night. 

Clock tower: *strikes thirteen*

Sauron: Asking nicely for the last time: make the fucking rings. Here’s your grandpa’s hammer. Go get ‘em, tiger, etc.

Celebrimbor: Rings… Gotta make some rings…

Sauron: Servants! New case of Red Bull and some Zero Age tequila! Let's party like it's 1999!

[stusbunker]

Spotless: Dolce

Chapter Twenty One

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean/Bela

Word Count: 1787

Warnings, etc: Mutual pining, minor backstory, they're idiots your honor, unbeta'd

A/N: Thank you all for your patience. Apart from being sick, I second and third and quintuple guessed myself on this chapter and then thoroughly ignored the difficult parts and just let them have a conversation on their own. That's it, it's just a phone call. xoxo Stu

Forgive me @lastactiontricia <3

Series Masterlist

You stood in your kitchen staring at the food in the fridge. It wasn’t much, but you had options.You just hated them all at that moment. You closed the door and slogged over to the pantry. It was the Friday night after Dean’s birthday and you wanted nothing to do with your phone or work or anything social media related. 

So you had turned off your ringer and left it to charge. 

You grabbed a bag of microwave popcorn out of the box and ripped off the plastic wrap. It was a poor excuse for dinner, but it at least would tide you over while you decided what you actually wanted to eat. Then you poured yourself a glass of wine, a sweet white because you were not a snob about it. No matter how many trips to Napa people took you on, you really weren’t going to spend an arm and a leg on a bottle that you only half-heartedly appreciated.

Once it was ready, you took the puffed up bag of popcorn with you to the living room because what was the point of making another dish? And decidedly resorted to turning on the tv.

The thing about streaming shows is that even though your attention wavered, the consistency of the characters on the screen made you feel less alone. You got through six episodes before you realized you never made anything for dinner. And at that point, it was too late to start. You stomped around trying to remember where you left your phone only to find a missed call from Dean and a dozen random texts from other people.

You double checked you didn’t have any voicemails and scrolled down to order delivery. Once dinner was finally sorted, you poured yourself the last of the bottle of wine and called Dean back.

The phone rang in your ear as you sat in the corner of your couch, criss-cross applesauce while turning on the next episode on mute. He answered on the fourth ring.

“Trouble, hey!”

“You rang?” You took a sip. Wherever he was was loud, but you could hear him moving through the buzz of passing conversation and cutlery.

“Yeah, you got a minute?”

“The night is my oyster, what’s up?” You leaned forward and set your glass on the coffee table, stretching back and settling in for whatever fire you were going to have to put out next.

The sounds surrounding Dean ended abruptly and he exhaled. “Not much, just grabbing drinks with some people from the label with Bela. You know, schmoozing the uppity ups.”

“Oh— good luck with that.” You shifted onto one hip and hugged your knee. “Tell her she has to pick where we’re getting brunch because the place I wanted is closed for remodeling—- and that she’s paying.”

Dean huffed a laugh. “I’ll fucking cover it, okay? Anything else you need me to tell her? Cuz I could go back in there and just hand her the phone if you want—”

“Nope— no, sorry. It’s fine. You okay?” Something in his voice was setting off a proximity alarm in your head, not full blown panic mode, but enough to let you know something had appeared on the horizon. 

“Yeah, ‘m good. It’s just not my kind of thing—- Bela’s great at these things— I just stand there wishing I could be anywhere else.”

“I’m surprised you even showed up— especially with rehearsals starting Monday.” You grabbed your wine again, waiting Dean out.

“Gotta play nice— you said so,” Dean teased, you could hear the soft hum of his smugness before he shifted gears. “Listen— that whole thing with Cas and the birthday bus— and the whole day actually—”

“Are you really gonna start bitching about that now? Dean, it is so not the time— don’t you have someone’s ass to kiss?”

“What?! I’m not— would you let me finish?! Jesus. I was trying to thank you!--- Don’t know why, now, but yeah.”

You bit your lips and perked up, straightening your back and wagging your head a little back and forth. “Oh? By all means— continue.”

“Yeah, okay, smart ass.”

You cackled and let him stew a bit.

“It was seriously the best, okay? Like, top five of all time.” Dean switched ears and you tried not to squee with the idea of making him so happy he’d been thinking about it for days. That he had to call you to tell you— even as an excuse to escape a less than stellar social situation. Everything seemed to sparkle on your skin, but that could have been the Reisling. “And about dragging Cas out— that was an unexpected gift. So, yeah, thank you— for all your trouble.”

You groaned.

“Oh come on! That one wasn’t that bad.” Dean pretended to be affronted and you pretended to be annoyed.

“Sure.”

He sniggered. “It was good to see him. It’d been too damn long.”

“Seriously. We had lunch and just getting to hang out with him made everything better.”

“Yeah.” Dean was thinking and you let him.

The television was frozen on the prompt screen, judging you for still watching, but you ignored it. You finished your wine and looked at the last drops through the curved glass, distracted by the reflection of your empty living room.

“You think he’s doing alright? I mean— he’s got a freakin’ kid. That’s got to have been a total mindfuck— you know?”

Naturally, Dean was worried about how Cas was, not about harboring grudges or blaming him for the rift between them. At least not out loud.

“I cannot imagine— and luckily we don’t have to worry about anyone trying to pull that again.”

“Yeah, tell me about it. Fuckin’ Lisa, I almost forgot about that. That was like the first big thing you had to bury when you started.”

You sat up and climbed onto your knees, like getting taller would help make your point. “Oh, I know! God that was such an uphill battle, even when she pretended to play nice. I still get the heebie jeebies when I pass her yoga studio on the way to Charlie’s.”

Dean chuckled. “Man— the things we do for fame. We are paying you, right?”

“Last time I checked.”

“Okay, good, probably should be more though, especially with all the Bela stuff.”

“Dean— I make well over the industry standard percentage with you guys. Plus, you barely even charge me rent. I’m doing fine.”

“Whatever—- still, want you to know your hard work is appreciated.”

You settled back down and picked at the seam of your leggings. “That is the weirdest way you could have said thank you, I hope you know.”

“Fuck off— Thank you, okay? THANK YOU. Should I spell it out? Maybe say it in Spanish?”

“Claro.”

“Como se dice ‘bite me’, huh?”

“Muérdeme.”

“Uhhh—- yeah, not gonna try that one while I’m standing in an alley alone.”

You rolled your eyes. “You should probably go back inside. People are waiting on you.”

“They barely even looked up when I stepped away— Bela’d message me if it was a problem.”

“Deeeeeean.”

“Trouuubbbllllle,” the way his voice rumbled with your nickname made it hard to remember you were even wearing clothes.

You climbed off the couch and decided to put your glass in the dishwasher for something to do. He wasn’t going back into the restaurant, but he wasn’t exactly keeping you from anything either.

“Why’d you call if you were out anyway?”

“Heh— I called you to talk me into going through with it.”

Oops. “Well good job on getting there on your own.”

“I was already halfway to Bela’s anyway. Paps perked up real fast when we rolled up. Gonna have to switch out Baby for a rental one of these days. Don't like the way they hone in on her.”

You rolled your eyes. “Probably a good idea, especially if you need privacy.”

“Not really the point of this little arrangement is it?”

“Okay, but still, be safe.”

“With my car? Always.”

You smiled to yourself when there was a knock at your door.

“Somebody there?” You hadn’t realized he could hear it over the line.

“Just dinner.” You beelined through the living room, suddenly starving. You pinched your phone between your shoulder and your cheek as you unlocked the front door. 

“So, what? Just another night in for you? Lemme guess, messy bun and no bra, maybe some leggings?”

You made sure everything was in the bag where the driver left it and dragged it back to the kitchen for a plate. “Is this you asking me what I’m wearing?”

“Maybe.”

You stopped short, and had to lift the bag up onto the counter a second time to keep it from becoming one with the floor. “Ha, ha.”

“Come on, it’s not like I’m gonna do anything here. Just making conversation.”

You ground your teeth, anger spiking from this sudden turn into teasing. “Yeah, well, when it’s the closest thing to a come on I’ve had in months— it feels a little bit more than that.”

You feel the penny drop.

“Dry spell, huh? I was wondering about that.”

“Oh shut it. You’ve got a fairytale fake girlfriend and I’ve got a band to keep relevant, neither of us is really out there mingling.”

Dean cleared his throat. “You can take time off—- if you need, you know that right? Hell, find somebody’s discarded boyfriend backstage and burn off some steam or something. ‘S one of the perks of a tour.---- But take care of yourself first, alright?”

You look up at the ceiling at the rows of spotlights Dean installed, once upon a time, that framed the island and sighed. “I’m not discussing my sex life with you— like— ever again.”

“Come on, it’ll be fun. We’ll have a sleepover and braid Sam’s hair.”

You sputtered and then went back to dishing up your food.

“Muérdeme, Dean. Then we’d have to listen to all the kinky shit him and Madison are into, no thank you.”

“Touche.”

You heard Dean’s phone buzz with a notification. The metaphorical clock struck twelve.

“That’s Bela, isn’t it?”

“Yep. Okay, well, it’s been fun.”

You inhaled and sent him off, “go get ‘em, champ.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks again for the birthday shenanigans. I’ll see you next week?”

“I’ll be at rehearsal, but I’ve got calls and stuff scheduled throughout the day.”

“Sounds good. Have a good one.”

“You too.”

Something lingered between you in the silence and before you could say something you’d regret, you finally ended the call. It almost felt like he was waiting you out, making sure not to be the one that hung up first.

Tagging:

@deans-spinster-witch

@mrswhozeewhatsis

@cosicas-cuquis

@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like

@suckitands33

@ladysparkles78

@deans-baby-momma

@stoneyggirl2

@sassy-pelican

@leigh70

@globetrotter28

@winharry

@lastactiontricia

@rockhoochie

[sunnywalnut]

Finished watching Dead Boy Detectives. Here are my honest thoughts.

-If you're going into it expecting another Good Omens, stop. Our protagonists are all minors. Teenagers. They cuss, they have total dirty mouths and sexual humor, but they are not eternal beings pretending to be middle aged men. They're ghosts. Dead Boys, if you will. Also this might be a stretch, but I'm assuming from the slightly less good CGI that the budget for this series was a LOT less than what it was for GO

-Edwin is kind of a dick in the first episode. But it's okay. Because character growth is swag.

-REALISTIC CHARACTER GROWTH!!! I liked Edwin a LOT more during the second episode BECAUSE of the character growth. And honestly? It's completely natural that bro is more than a little prickly after only being able to trust one guy for an extremely long time. Fair enough my guy. Carry on.

- this show kinda has Nimona vibes. If that makes sense. Witty humor, somewhat sexual dialogue, funny moments during serious times, though geared towards a younger audience. If you like those kinds of things, you will like this, I'm sure of it.

- In the early episodes, the pacing/character relationships feel a little off??? I'm not sure if that was because I was expecting another Good Omens or what. But after 2-3 episodes, the dust quickly settled and we got into the actual storyline. Which was extremely appreciated✨

-these villains are FUCKED up. I'm telling you. They are HORRIFIC. Had me squirming and cringing through their intense scenes. And gosh. That was a TRIP.

-TY TENANT PLAYS THE MAIN GUY EDWIN!!!! And he plays him WELL. I did not realize this going in to the show and thought his face was VERY familiar. Only after I looked it up did I realize why. He's our sassy son of Job. (EDIT: turns out Ty plays the Doom Patrol version. Not the one on Netflix. My bad! They do look pretty similar though, so ykw. Great casting. Also my point still stands. This guy is a pretty fuckin awesome actor. 10/10)

-Cat King is such a wild card holy SHIT.

-Charles is cute as fuck. His backstory HURTS. But also. I love the way his ears look. Like in the pictures that I saw of him they were of when the Cat King impersonated him so I was like oh chill. So he's got pointed ears bc feline but NOPE. He's just like that!! And honestly? Slay. I fuckin love it.

-oh did I mention tragic backstories???? Yeah we got those :D for everyone :D

-Niko is the best and I love her. Also I love how the letters on her desk are written in Japanese. That is a VERY nice touch of character building.

-hot butcher lady with throat tattoo

All in all. A truly delightful series and I genuinely hope it gets another season because I NEED to know what happens next. My little sister LOVED it and the ending had us all staring open mouthed at the TV screen in shock.

This 15yo girl is literally ranting my ear off, having adventures with the Dead Boys in her dreams and chatting with me about it, searching up fanfics and drawing fanart, the whole shabang. And it is DIFFICULT for this girl to get into shows like this. So honestly? This is perfect. Thank you, Neil. For giving us a whole other banger.

That being said. If anybody else has some younger siblings that are around 15-17 and are looking for shows to binge watch together, this is the perfect one. I'm telling you, you will NOT regret it (except maybe emotionally)

Thoroughly recommend.

[yuurivoice]

I loved all the new information we got of Thomas! Makes me more excited to finally meet him ❤️ Any information you would like to share of the other Evalas boys? I'm excited for Vale and Edwin as well! Love ya lots Yuuri!

I don't have a whole lot to share about Edwin, but can confirm that he is in two of the Evalas Origins series, one as a single episode appearance, the other as a multi-episode party member.

Vale has even less that I can share. Uhhhhhh. Hm. Nope. Nothing.

Also I think this is the first occurrence of me using the phrase Evalas Origins for these specific character-centric side stories. The general idea is the have audio-only (or simple one shot artwork) stories that follow key players before the events of Echoes of Evalas. I thought it might be a good idea to get people informed and invested prior to the big series rather than just introduce a bunch of folks an expect the audience to give a shit. lol

Currently there are three planned. I've been brainstorming how to do at least one more, but I haven't quite settled on how I want to do that yet.

[forever-rogue]

Heart Out

AN |  Once again, no one asked for this. Absolutely no one, but here we are - bone app the teeth. Basically - in which you meet Peter Parker, fall in love, accidentally fall pregnant, and have everything blow up in your face…or so it appears ❤️

Pairing | tasm!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language, Pregnant!Reader

Word Count | 6.3k

Masterlist | Main | Peter

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Hello there,” you shrieked at the sound of the warm voice, clutching at your heart as you turned to find the source of your heart attack. Turned out that the man standing across the hall with a cheeky smile on his was about to give you another heart attack. Holy fuck - he was gorgeous. You opened and closed your mouth a few times, any coherent thought already out of your head, “I didn’t mean to scare you. I thought you heard me coming.”

“N-no,” you stammered out dumbly, unable to say anything else. Well then; he probably already thought you were a complete idiot, “I just, umm, didn’t h-hear you.”

“I’ll be louder next time,” he grinned, and his face took on a boyish quality. Funny; he could go from ridiculously handsome to outrageously cute in a matter of moments, “I just wanted to introduce myself - you just moved in right? I’m Peter. Parker. Peter Parker.”

“Peter,” you repeated softly and oh. He shouldn’t have you feeling this type of way already. You offered him your name, which he also repeated, testing it out to get a feel for it. You liked the way it sounded coming from him, “I moved in last week. It’s nice to meet you.”

“You too, sweetheart,” and there he was, already hitting you with the nicknames. The audacity, “if you ever need anything at all, feel free to let me know. You’re welcome any time, day or night.”

“T-thanks,” your mind absolutely did not have to go and immediately think about going over to his place late at night when you needed something and then - no. Nope. You were definitely not going to let your thoughts go there, “that’s very kind of you.”

“You’re new to the building - it’s nice to know at least one person,” he shrugged lightly, “and maybe make a new friend. But I mean it, my door’s open - metaphorically - anytime.”

“Well, thank you again, Peter,” you opened your door and turned around to cast one last little wave goodbye, “see you around - have a good night.”

“You too, honey.”

Peter stood and watched you close your door, not moving until he heard you lock it. A soft little smile settled on his face as he went back into his own apartment. He didn’t mean to be so invasive, but curiosity - and his spidey senses - got the better of him and he listened to you shuffle around your apartment, muttering softly under your breath. Damn; he liked you already.

He’d known you when you moved but had been tempted to come over and help, but he also didn’t want to scare you off either. But he had also just offered himself up to you practically 24/7….maybe it was too late. Either way, he hoped he’d get to see you again. 

Meanwhile in your apartment, you were trying not to have a breakdown. How did you manage to fuck up a simple conversation? He probably thought you were an idiot; he probably didn’t even want you to come over. Peter seemed like he was the type of guy that was nice to everyone. Maybe you could just avoid him forever and pretend this never happened.

“Peter Parker,” you whispered to yourself, flopping on the couch and pulling out your phone. A little online…research wouldn’t hurt anyone, right? You cast a furtive look around, as though he was suddenly going to appear in your doorway, “let’s see what you’re about.”

Several background episodes of some old TV show, a helping of chocolate, and over an hour of online snooping, you’d found out a lot about Peter Parker. He was some sort of genius scientist by day, an amateur photographer on the side, and apparently a huge geek. Ugh. As if you needed more reasons to like him. How could he be hot, smart, and nerdy? Unfair. 

You closed out every app and tossed your phone to the side before sighing heavily. This might prove to be harder than you’d thought. Peter Parker was going to be a menace…you could just feel it.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

As fate would have it, your plan to avoid Peter Parker did not go well. It did not go well at all. 

From the first time you met him, you seemed to run into him all the time; leaving for or coming from work, in the laundry, even out in public. At first you had tried to play it off and keep interactions brief, but the more you kept seeing him the more you wondered if it was all a sense of timing…or was it fate? 

Either way, you stopped questioning; you allowed yourself to become friends with Peter. Friends that just so happened to be flirty with each other. Which was totally normal…who didn’t flirt with their friends every once in a while. Right? Right. What happened between the two of you would happen and you decided to let things flow naturally. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

That all came to a head one chilly winter night.

It was later in the evening and you were winding down for the day when your heating went out. And as luck would have it, it was just cold enough that you needed the heater. You had no clue how to fix it and it would be too late to call the maintenance line and your mind only went out to one thing, or one person rather, Peter. 

You pulled on a hoodie and toed on your slippers before padding across the hall. There was a moment of hesitation as you raised your hand but couldn’t quite bring yourself to knock. Before you could make a decision one way or the other, the door opened and Peter stood on the other side, “hi.”

“H-hey,” you hadn’t even made a sound and yet he still knew you were at the door…weird. But that was the least of your concerns at the moment. You were desperately trying not to stare at him too closely; he was wearing a pair of sinful gray sweatpants and a well fitted t-shirt. The urge to throw yourself at him was ridiculous.

“Everything alright, sweetheart?”

Right. You were here for something entirely different. You mentally slapped yourself before nodding, “I’m sorry for coming so late, and I don’t even know if you’d be able to help but my heating went out and I have no clue what to do. Umm...you know what, it’s okay. I-I’ll figure it out.”

You’d turned to leave, regretting your decision to bother him, but before you could run away, you felt his long, slender fingers wrap around your wrist. You turned to him with wide eyes and he shook his head lightly, “you’re in luck. I happen to be very handy with things like this.”

“Is that because of all the science-y things you do?” you blurted it out before thinking about it as he raised his eyebrows. Right. You weren’t supposed to know about what he did for a living…it had never really come up. You also weren’t supposed to give the fact that you’d stalked him on the internet, “j-just because you seem like a STEM guy. ‘s all.”

Smooth.

“I do happen to be a STEM guy,” he grinned, “let me come over and take a look. I’m sure it’ll be an easy fix - the heating here is just a little finicky.”

“Thank you,” you slinked back to your apartment, handsome man in tow. You were glad that you’d just cleaned up and everything was tidy. Peter looked so good in your apartment and it made the whole domestic daydream hard to ignore, “I’m assuming the heaters are in the same spot. So…yeah. Can I help with anything - get you anything?”

“I’ve got it,” he promised, already walking into the living room where your heater was, “it shouldn’t take too long.”

You made a small sound of acknowledgement as you retreated into the kitchen, deciding to finish up the dishes you had started…while stealing glances at him. It was hard to ignore such an attractive piece of art in your own home. At one point he stretched and his shirt rode up, revealing the patch of hair under his belly button that disappeared under the waistband of his sweats. A wistful little sigh escaped your lips, which you quickly covered up with a cough. You swore you could see a little smirk on his face. 

To your delight and chagrin, Peter really was handy and had the heating kicked on and working well in a short period of time. He turned back to you with a triumphant smile and jazz hands, “ta-da! All working again…and probably better than before. Simple circuit issue.”

“I…wow, thank you so much,” you smiled softly, “that’s really kind of you. How can I repay you? Whatever you want, name it and it’s yours.”

Peter’s smile grew bigger and he seriously wanted to answer with a simple you. But instead he shook his head and brushed off your concern, “don’t mention - really, it was nothing. Plus, it gives me a chance to see you again. It’s been a bit...almost like you were avoiding me. Did I do something to scare you off?”

He’d come over now and was standing across from you, arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the wall. Peter could read you like a book already and it was just all too easy for him. You bit the inside of your cheek and just shook your head, “n-no, Peter. Of course not, I’ve just been…busy. And didn’t feel the need to bother you.”

“You didn’t feel the need or didn’t want to?” he asked softly, his voice so warm and low that felt like he should be whispering those words directly in your ear. You swallowed thickly, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks, “tell me, sweetheart.”

“Didn’t want to,” you confessed shyly, “didn’t want you to get tired or annoyed with me.”

“I don’t think I could ever get tired of you,” how you’d come to be right in front of him was a mystery but you found yourself looking up into his pretty brown eyes. He reached up and touched your face, brushing his knuckles across your cheek before trailing his fingers along your jaw and down your neck, “sweet, sweet girl.”

“Peter,” he was still new to you, still so much to discover and learn but you already felt like you’d known him for a lifetime. It was such a strange feeling, such a magnetic pull and you didn’t even want to bother fighting it.

“Hmm?” his face was close to yours, and you could feel the warmth radiating off him. He smelled so deliciously warm and soft that you wanted to wrap yourself in his clothes and wanted him all over you, “tell me what you need, honey.”

“Kiss me?” you asked sweetly, “please?”

He answered your simple request by pressing his lips to yours in what started off as a saccharine, soft little thing. With even the slightest taste of him, you were already addicted to him. A little gasp escaped your lips as you looked back at him and found him watching with equal curiosity and tenderness. 

And then it happened so fast - he was all over you and you jumped into his arms, letting him kiss you dizzy and leave a lavender haze across your skin. His touch was electric and you couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt so alive. He picked you and carried you to your bedroom so effortlessly, and you felt so soft and delicate in his arms. Your lips barely broke contact as he gently laid you on the bed, looking down at you like you were the most precious thing in the world. 

He gently brushed your hair out of your face, resting his hand on your cheek and leaned into his touch, “we don’t have to-”

“I want this,” you promised softly, “I want you, Peter.”

That was all he needed before caging you in between his arms, leaning down to kiss you more. You could easily - and did - spend hours under him, letting him kiss you and touch every which way It felt like a dream, a sweet fantasy that your lust addled brain had conjured up, but the soft moan and whimpers you were drawing from him reminded you that this was all very real. 

“Peter,” his name had never sounded as sweet as it did when it fell reverently from your lips, “please.”

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he promised, nosing along your jaw before placing a kiss to your lips, “I’ve got you.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You’d believed him. You’d believed every sweet word whispered in your ear, every little moan and whimper exchanged that he’d meant them all.

But when you woke up the next morning, golden sunshine and soft bird chirps streaming into your bedroom, you rolled over and fully expected to find his warm body next to yours. But instead you found a chilly emptiness. Strange. You hadn’t even heard him get up, let alone leave you. A pang settled in your stomach as you slid out of bed, feeling the dull ache between your legs as you slid on your shirt from last night.

“Peter?” you padded your way into the hall and kitchen looking for any signs of life; unfortunately you found nothing. A pout worked its way onto your face as you looked around, and in a much smaller voice you spoke into the nothingness, “Peter?”

But he was long gone and you already knew that. There was no note, no anything. You scrubbed a hand over your tired face before sighing to yourself. You should have known - of course it was too good to be true. Peter Parker wasn’t into you and he hadn’t felt any sort of connection. He’d just wanted to have sex…and you’d given right in. 

“Dumb, pathetic girl,” you chided yourself before moving to the bathroom to take a long, hot shower. You wanted to scrub off every last bit of Peter from your body and home. You decided to let yourself cry and wallow in self-pity while showering; after that it was back to business as usual. Maybe you’d get an answer from Peter later. Maybe you’d find out that this was all some sort of weird misunderstanding. You still had hope that Peter would turn out to be everything you had dreamed he would be.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

But…you never got the chance to ask what happened or for him to give you a proper explanation. By mid-afternoon of the day he’d just left, you went over to his apartment and knocked on his door; there was no answer. You figured that he might not have been home, which was fair enough. You decided to just wait for him - he had to come home at some point. 

It just wasn’t that day. You didn’t hear him come or go, which just left you more curious than ever.

The day after brought about a new work week, and you knew, from your previous comings and goings that he worked a similar schedule to yours. And yet you still didn’t see him that week. Now you were just getting worried about him. In the few months you’d lived in the building, you’d seen him constantly; it wasn’t like him to just up and disappear. If nothing you figured he might have told you that he was leaving or going to be gone. 

It wasn’t until about three weeks later that you’d caught sight of him again. You experienced an odd combination of relief and annoyance when you caught him getting back into his apartment as you came home from dinner with some friends.

“Peter?” your soft voice caught him off guard and he tensed up immediately. He was so lost in his own thoughts that even his heightened senses didn’t detect you. He exhaled shakily as he turned around to face you. You looked so torn at seeing him again, “you’re here. You’re okay…”

“Yeah,” he nodded and cleared his throat. He seemed so different from the man you’d seen last time. He looked more tired too, his hair shaggier and stubble littered his face, “listen-”

“Where did you go?” he could hear the hurt in your voice and it broke his heart, “t-that morning…you were just gone. And then you were gone for weeks. I got so worried…”

He knew this was coming; that’s why he’d spent the last couple of weeks actively avoiding you. Peter hadn’t been gone - he’d just relied on Spider-Man prowess to be able to get into his apartment unseen. He’d spent more nights than he cared to admit sitting near his door and tuning in to you. He just…couldn’t bring himself to face you.

“I’m fine,” but he most definitely wasn’t, “I’m sorry about that night, okay? It shouldn’t have happened, but I’m fine. You’re fine. We can put it behind us and move on…”

“I…what do you mean?” your heart broke at his words and you wished the ground would open up and swallow you, “Peter - can we just talk about this?”

“I’m busy, I’m sorry,” he opened his door and stepped inside his apartment as you stared at him with teary eyes, “I’m sorry.”

He closed the door and locked it before you could say anything else. You stared at the door, processing what had just happened while tears pearled up and ran down your cheeks. How could he just play you off like that? Basically acting like nothing happened. This didn’t feel like Peter - not the Peter you’d come to know and, if you were being honest with yourself, love.

Peter leaned against the door sighing deeply to himself as he listened to your sniffles as you walked into your own apartment. He never wanted to hear you cry again, he especially never wanted to be the cause of your tears again. 

“Fuck,” he sighed to himself, “fuck.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You thought that things couldn’t get worse after Peter all but dumped you, as a friend and potential lover, but once again you had been wrong. 

Very wrong.

I’ve missed two periods wrong. You thought maybe the test was wrong, that the white plastic stick proclaiming pregnant was giving you a false positive. But the six other tests that said the same thing probably weren’t all wrong. 

“Fuck,” you tossed the test angrily into your trash can before doing the same thing with the rest of the tests. You couldn’t stand looking at them any longer, have them taunting you mercilessly, “fuck me.”

While it was real, it didn’t feel real real until you left the doctor’s office the following week. They had simply confirmed what you already knew deep down. You were eight weeks pregnant with Peter Parker’s baby. Talk about life throwing you for a loop. But, like without most things in life, except for what happened with Peter, you decided to be rational and figure it all out. 

You needed a plan - as long as you had a plan things would work out. 

You were at a good place in life and with your career that financially you’d be able to afford a baby. You had a spare room in your apartment that served as a makeshift office that could be a nursery. You had a few close friends and family members that would be able to support you throughout your pregnancy. Realistically, the biggest decision you had to make was whether or not you wanted to keep the baby. 

Would you be able to stand living across the hall from Peter while you had his kid? Would he even ask questions and put two and two together? Maybe you could look for a different apartment soon. There was much to think about and much to do, but as long as you made a plan and stuck to it, things would work out.

They had to work out…fuck, you hoped things worked out. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Three months later found you doing better than you’d thought. You’d decided to keep the baby but were still on the fence about moving. The more time that passed, the more you thought moving was the right idea. 

You’d tried to tell Peter as soon as you got confirmation of your pregnancy from the doctor. He might have hated you, but he still deserved to know. You wanted him to have the opportunity to choose whether or not he wanted to be in the kid’s life. Even if you didn’t get along, he deserved the choice. Part of you still wondered what had caused the sudden shift in his attitude towards you, but never found out. He avoided you like the plague and if he did see you for some reason he would give you a small hello or pretend that he didn’t see you. 

After all this time it still stung. And it was the only reason that he still didn’t know you were pregnant. The thing was, you wouldn’t be able to hide it much longer - but who knew if he would even notice. It almost felt like a weird, cruel joke at this point.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was a random Wednesday afternoon that you happened to have off, which led you to take advantage of the nearly empty laundry room. You were just finishing up your last load, putting it all in your basket when you heard someone walk in. The mountain of laundry was large and you didn’t bother looking to see who it was, “I’ll be out in just a second - sorry for hogging all the room!”

When you finally fished the last things out of the dryer, you turned around and found yourself face to face with none other than, “Peter.”

He looked like he’d just seen a ghost as he stared at you, soft honey brown eyes searching yours. Your heart raced, and you were surprised it didn’t burst through your ribcage. A slight look of confusion crossed his features and you caught the way his eyes looked over you before flicking down to your belly. You swallowed thickly, suddenly glad that you’d worn a pretty baggy old t-shirt; it hid the fact that you were definitely starting to show.

“Hey,” he choked out, raising his hand in a weak little wave. It was more than you’d gotten from him in some time, “h-how’re you?”

“I’m okay,” it wasn’t a total lie but it wasn’t the full truth either, “how are you?”

“Okay,” he admitted, and you wondered if it was a lie. He held up his hand and flailed it around, as if he was trying to magically conjure up the words he was looking for, “d-do you…I, umm…can we talk?”

“Not right now,” you felt your eyes welling up with tears as you  grabbed your basket and held it as best as you could in order to avoid resting it against your belly. How could he just so casually want to talk months later? He had all this time and now he was going to ask, “I’ve gotta go. I-I’ll see you around, Peter.”

You pushed past him, arm brushing against his and sending electric shivers shooting down your spine as he watched you go. He stared at you, finding himself unable to move or say anything else. He brought his hands to his face and groaned loudly; once again he’d managed to mess this up. But something had been…different about you today. Peter couldn’t quite place it yet, but there was something going on. And he was determined to find out - and beg for forgiveness if he had to. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

One of the many things that had come along with pregnancy were the lovely bouts of insomnia that popped every once in a while. Nothing you did - or didn’t - do seemed to help and it left you more restless than anything else. Some evenings you would bake, some nights you read, some nights you’d watch TV. But on this particular evening, you found yourself pacing around endlessly; instead of just walking around your apartment, you decided to go for a walk around the neighborhood. It seemed like a big of a crazy idea but the neighborhood and most of New York City was fairly safe and quiet these days, probably thanks to the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. 

You pulled on a pair of sweats and a thin zip up and headed outside, one earbud in with your true crime podcast of the moment in your ear. And for a while, nothing seemed out of place, and your suspicions weren’t raised.

Not until a red and blue blur passed in your peripheral and caused you to stop in your tracks. Out of nowhere Spider-Man appeared right in front of you, causing your eyes to widen. You pulled the earbud out and stuffed it into your pocket as you studied the man in front of you, “Spider-Man?”

“Last time I checked,” he responded cheekily, holding his arms out and pretending to study them with interest, “what are you doing out so late? It’s dangerous!”

“Umm,” the fact that he was talking to you like he knew you personally threw you off, “I was just going for a quick walk? I-is that not allowed anymore?”

“This late?!”

“I couldn’t sleep,” you shrugged lightly, unsure of why this seemed so important to him. Your hand had instinctively gone to your bump, and you stroked it gently, “and my back was hurting so I thought a walk would help?”

He tracked your movement and you were almost sure you heard him inhale sharply, “y-you’re pregnant?”

“Yeah,” you whispered with a small, fond smile, “this kid is very active and likes to be up at all times of the day and night. Makes it hard to keep a normal sleep schedule at times…I mean none of this is normal…but, you know what, I’m gonna shut up now because you definitely don’t need to hear about all of this.”

“What a-are you having?” his voice grew soft and you found yourself drawn into him. He was Spider-Man after all, he saved kids all the time, it shouldn’t have been a surprise that he cared.

“A girl…in about four months,” you told him excitedly, eyes lighting up with happiness, the white eyes of the suit narrowed as he studied you, a gentle silence falling over the two of you. You cleared your throat when he didn’t say anything, “I, ugh, I should get going. Maybe I will try and see if she’ll let me get some rest. She’s calmed down a little bit…since you showed. You must hold some kind of magic over her, she probably likes your voice.”

He stood there frozen, so you offered him a small wave before walking past him in order to loop around the block back to your building. It was quiet at first and you thought you were alone when you heard rapid footsteps coming after you, “wait! Please - wait.”

“Huh?” Spider-Man was there again and this time he took your hand and pulled you into a small walkway between buildings. He was breathing nervously, “are you okay? Do you need…something?”

He paused for a moment before raising a shaking hand to the back of his neck. You watched as he pulled the mask off slowly, revealing himself to you which caused you to gasp loudly as you stared at the man in front of you, “Peter?”

“H-hi,” he said meekly as you a hundred different emotions seemed to flash across your face, “I fucked up.”

“What is going on?” there were those overwhelming emotions again, bringing up those big, fat crocodile tears that rolled down your cheeks, “you’re Spider-Man? I…all this time? Why…I don’t understand.”

“She’s mine, isn’t she?” he asked, although both of you were well aware of the answer, “the other day, in the laundry room, I-I heard it - the two heartbeats but only saw you. It makes sense now…”

“Y-you left me,” was all you managed to get out before you were sniffling heavily and wiping at your eyes with the sleeve of your sweater, “I-I tried to tell you. Y-you just left and never told me why.”

“Sweetheart-”

“You broke my heart Peter,” you flinched out of his touch when he tried to reach for your hand; he hated the fact that he made you feel like that, “and you never even told me why.”

“Please, let me explain, I can-”

“No,” you shook your head fervently, as you took a step back, “no. I tried to talk to you so many times, and you just ignored me. I tried to tell you that I was pregnant but you just…shut me out.  It’s too late for that, Peter.”

“Don’t walk away,” he begged, his own eyes glistening with tears, “please.”

“Give me one good reason why,” you pushed back.

“I’m in love with you.”

“Don’t,” you held up your hand, shaking your head. Funny - you’d been wanting to hear those words for so long and now you heard them they felt wrong. The worst part of it all was that you needed him to be serious, “you don’t get to leave me for months and avoid me and just do this. That’s not fair, Peter.”

“I never meant to,” he insisted, groaning at himself, “I-I can explain, please-”

“No, Peter,” you took a step back, your own heart breaking all over again, “I’m not going to keep your daughter from you - if you want to be a part of her life. That wouldn’t be fair of me and I want her to have the opportunity to know her father and you to know your daughter. But us…we…I don’t know, Peter. I think it’s too late for that.”

“I understand why you hate me,” he insisted, trying his best to get to you to stay, “give me ten minutes, that’s all I’m asking for, to explain everything.”

You worried your bottom between your teeth, wanting to walk away but finding it impossible. After a few beats of tense silence you have him a singular nod, “ten minutes. That’s it.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The fact that you found yourself in Peter’s apartment again, after all these months, was oddly comforting. Everything felt and looked the same, which for some reason provided a weird sense of familiarity. You sat on the couch, grabbed the blanket off the back without thinking about it and curled up under it; the fact that you still did put a small smile on Peter's face.

“Go on then,” you raised an eyebrow, “talk.”

“I don’t even know where to start,” he sighed lightly, “it’ll be a mess but I want to get it all out there. I-I’m Spider-Man…obviously. I have been for a long time, and it’s not something people know for obvious reasons. There’s less than a handful of people that know who I am.”

“Oh,” you met his eyes and frowned slightly. Of course your first thoughts were worry about him getting hurt. But then it suddenly clicked, “all those times you got hurt…the bruises and scratches and - wow. It makes sense now.”

“Listen, sweetheart,” he rubbed a hand over his tired face, “the woman I thought I’d spend the rest of my life with…she knew. She found out, and she…she’s dead. She’s been for a long time now. I couldn’t save her - the reason she died was because of me. I got mad, angry…bitter and rageful. For so long, I was just so sad and angry all the time. It took years before I finally got it into my head that she - Gwen - wouldn’t want me to be like that. She would want me to be happy and move on with my life. So I did; I’ll never forget her or stop loving her.”

“Peter,” your eyes were welling up with tears as you watched him pace around the living room. You could tell that this was not easy for him, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“I also made myself a promise that I would never get someone involved again. No one was going to know that I was Spider-Man,” he gave you a soft, sad smile, “if no one got close to me, they couldn’t get hurt, right? That was my logic - the less people knew about me, the fewer people I knew, the better. The last thing…the last thing I expected to do was to fall in love.”

The two of you looked at each other, both of you on the verge of having tears spill your cheeks. You opened and closed your mouth a few times as he crouched down in front of you. He reached up and gently touched your cheek, wiping away the tears you hadn’t even realized fell. You leaned into his touch as you looked at him with the softest eyes, “I never expected to feel anything close to that. But then I met you. And I just knew you were going to be trouble from the first day I met you.”

“Good trouble?” you asked softly and he nodded.

“The best trouble,” he agreed, “and you made it so easy, and I stopped worrying about the consequences. It didn’t matter anymore…and then that night, when we had sex, I just…I realized that I did - do - love you. And I panicked, I panicked and ran away like a coward.”

“You did,” you agreed softly, “you didn’t even leave a note. I thought…I thought you regretted it and that you thought it was a mistake.”

“I can understand why you thought that,” he traced his fingers along your jaw, studying your features and refamiliarizing himself with them, “I didn’t think that at all. I just…all I could think about was you getting hurt. That someone would find out about you and they’d hurt you. And, in my very flawed logic, I thought that pushing you away was the best thing. If you hated me, you wouldn’t want to be around me, and then you’d be safe. That’s what I thought anyway.”

“I could never hate you,” you promised, wrapping your fingers around his wrist and gently taking his hand into yours, “never. Peter, you’re an idiot and a fool, but I can’t even be mad because your heart was in the right place. You didn’t go about it correctly but I get it.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, giving your hand a gentle squeeze, “that’s all I can say and hope that you can forgive me. I’m sorry that I’ve been such a dick that you’ve had to go through this on your own.”

“I know,” you swallowed thickly, “I tried to tell you, but…yeah. Listen, I’m going to keep her and I don’t want you to feel forced into being a part of her life. But if you want to be, I would never say no. Obviously, you know, I didn’t intend on having sex once and forgetting to use birth control and getting pregnant. It’s a mess really…but I couldn’t give her up.”

“I know I’ve been a dick and you don’t have to say yes, but I’d like to be involved,” his eyes grew nervous, “you’ve still got a while of being pregnant and I’d like to help however I can. It takes two to tango after all.”

“I’d like that,” you agreed and he felt his heart flutter happily, “Peter…I’m not saying things will just go back to how they were right away, but…I love you.”

“You…what?!”

“I love you,” you repeated with a small laugh and oh. He’d missed that beautiful sound so terribly much, “I have for a long time too. And if you…if you want to, I-I’m willing to work on things and try again?”

“Really?” 

“Really,” you grinned, “you know that old saying, don’t give up on something that could be great just because it’s not easy or whatever? I think that applies here. So, if you’re in, I’m in. But, Peter, my love, please just talk to me, okay? Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out, but we can’t do that if you shut me out.”

“I won’t,” he promised, bringing your hand to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles, “I swear it. I want this -  you.”

“Good,” you leaned in and pressed a delicate kiss to his cheek, “I want you too, Spidey. We’ll figure it out.”

“We will,” he agreed softly, “do you…have any pictures of her o-or anything?”

“Of course,” you took his hand and placed it gently on the swell of your belly. You watched as his entire body relaxed and his face softened, “I’ve got plenty of sonogram pictures of the blob. I’ve got a doctor’s appointment in a few days, would you like to come with me?”

“Yeah,” he leaned in, hesitantly for a moment, and you repeated the action, pressing your forehead against his, “I’d love to.”

“Peter? Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“Will you kiss me?” he laughed lightly as you beamed at him, “pretty please?”

“Yes,” he promised, “any time, sweetheart.”