#chicks dig lists

[fifthnailinstevesbat]

thinking about steve in that first scene in nancys bedroom back in season one. thinking about how goofy and flirty and charming and playful he was being. thinking about him being like that with eddie, and how eddie would react to that version of steve. the whole talking in a silly voice, acting as that stuffed bear, the whole “bad steve :( don’t do that to miss nancy :( “ and “you are beautiful nancy wheeler”.

eddie plays dnd, even more so, he DMs dnd games, he stands up on tables in cafeterias and makes big theatrical scenes to rant about issues he has strong stances on — that man knows how to put on a show, and enjoys to watch one too. see: immediately accepting erica into hellfire as a replacement after seeing her go on one of her tangents, showing off her attitude and how she isn’t afraid to get in your face to get her way. he LOVESS that shit. lives for it. seeks it out. so when steve starts getting like that around him he would just crumble immediately i just know it.

[wonryllis]

ʬʬ. ! POKER FACE ﹙ SHE'S GOT ME LIKE NOBODY ﹚

𝒏o𝓉ℯs. park sunghoon with fem!reader 𖥔 ݁ enemies but secretly in love and oblivious, fluff. LIB? word count `2375

prompt. wiping a bit of frosting (or smth else) off of their cheek while eating and taking it for themself from list 02. part of this event by @okwonyo

JAY VER. JAKE VER. SUNGHOON VER: one-sided

"you look like a chipmunk," and i wanna kiss you so bad right now. sunghoon really wishes he could do that, grab your jaw, fingers digging into your soft puffed cheeks, and pull you against him as he smashes his lips into yours.

he's been dreaming of it for as long as he can remember. for as long as he knew he shouldn't be dreaming of that. for as long as he knew you have hated him and for as long as he has been supposed to be hating you too.

look sunghoon doesn't really have a solid reason to hate you besides the fact that you crush on his best friend (especially when he's been here all along?) but if getting to talk to you and sticking close by comes at the cost of pretending to do, then he doesn't really mind it. though it doesn't do much because everyone, from friends to professors, everyone can see how he's been waiting on the opportunity to jump you.

and you? you are the most oblivious thing there can ever be. sunghoon could be right up in your face, whispering sweet nothings and everything in between and you'd refuse to believe he feels anything but hatred for you. if not that then annoyance? because you for sure are always annoyed at him and his flirty antics.

"shut-" he's suddenly reaching forward and across the table, hands cupping your cheek, oh god he's melting you're so soft, thumb swiping against your skin to wipe off the salad dressing. he puts it into his mouth next, sucking off the sweet sauce with an irritating smirk on his face,"so cute," a look of lure in his hooded eyes staring at you,"eat slowly baby no one's gonna take your foo-,"

"m nat yiur baby!" you interrupt immediately, speaking through the stuffed salad in your cheeks, eyes shifting back and forth to heeseung sitting beside him. praying he wouldn't misunderstand even though your insanely fast beating heart clearly knows who it's beating for.

"come on babies don't speak with full mouth, no matter how cute you look," i'm gonna die if you don't stop right now sunghoon feels like he'll combust any moment, blow his cover and mess everything up. he doesn't give a shit that your crush aka his friend, is sitting right next to him, if anything he's doing it in front of him on purpose even though he knows the boy has got no feelings for you. he has just got something for the way your face scrunches adorably when you get annoyed, and how your oh so kissable lips turn into an angry pout that does nothing to show your anger but tempt him even more.

"ou knww wat m levnig," grabbing your plate with you, you give heeseung a tight lipped cheery little smile and two short kicks under the table to sunghoon before leaving the area.

fuck park sunghoon and fuck his hotness and fuck how he gets to you every single time. your heartbeat keeps on getting higher and skipping beats with each step you take, repeatedly hearing his words in your head again and again. even more so when you hear the sound of his footsteps behind you, those very familiar clicking of his chelsea dress shoes that suit him devilishly well.

"enjoy," sunghoon leaves the table after you, patting his friend's back in a quick apology and rushing away.

"yo chipmunk cheeks! wait up for me!"

"get away!"

just fucking kiss already. lee heeseung has had it enough already. he can't stand third wheeling anymore, it's making him sick. he needs to get you two into seven minutes in heaven or something. just anything to end whatever this is you have going on with him stuck in between.

"whatcha doin baby chicks?" sunghoon's annoying ass voice has you looking up from your book, eyes following him as he drags out the chair beside yours and plops himself down smugly. he's alone. he's alone alone.

"where's heeseung?" you ask, remembering how he promised he'd bring along the boy for a study date. the sole reason you agreed to meet him in the library.

"somewhere between those shelves," sunghoon fingers point towards the rows behind your table,"probably getting you know what," he suggests, resting his head on his hands, staring at you trying to find your guy. "liar, he's not like you," you retort and it has sunghoon grinning from ear to ear,"hm, what do you think i am like?" there's a hint of amusement and a tone of teasing in his voice, it makes it hard for you to conceal your nervousness. so many times of it happening yet you still can't control the fluttering butterflies and sparks in your stomach. are you sure you're crushing on the right person? well heeseung is nice he helps you with notes from missed classes and most importantly doesn't taunt you for being second.

"a predator," nevertheless trying to outwardly stand your ground is something you have learned to do when it comes to him. do not show how weak he gets you. do not let him have the upper hand. that's been your motto since day one.

you almost feel your heart jumping out of your chest when he bends to grab the seat of your chair and pulls you closer, leaning so close to your face, you feel his breath hit your lips with every exhale,"so you must be my pretty little prey?" if you move just an inch forward you'd end up smearing your cherry gloss on his chapped lips, feeling hyper aware of every little movement from the touch of his fingers near the hem of your skirt to the little shifting you do in your seat. fidgeting and constant staring at each other's lips. the faint hovering of his palm on your thighs, the other lingering over hand resting on the table, like a cage in between,"you're gettin-"

"guys i finally found it!" you're snapped out of it when heeseung slams a pile of books on the table, hands flapping up to slap against sunghoon's chest and push him away with all the might you got.

it takes you a few minutes to settle yourself down into calm, ignoring the way sunghoon complains about being harshly shoved for apparently no reason. and smiling at heeseung as he explains how he'd been trying to look for some books on zoology which somehow happened to always be borrowed out, that is until today. you take a second look at the books he shows, hitting an embarassing realization, eyes switching between the two guys.

"wait- you were looking for these books over there?" pointing to the same rows sunghoon did initially.

"what else were you thinking in that tiny head of yours, chipmunk?" sunghoon wiggles his brows suggestively knowing exactly what you were thinking of, enjoying the way you come to the horrific realization of how you both were just flirting, more specifically of what you implied and what you didn't deny.

"nothing, shut up and do your own work!" a poor attempt at brushing it off but he'll let it go since you aren't really alone right now. a lovesick grin, eyes trained on you the entire time. only heeseung notices and once again wonders of when you'll knock it off.

"miss second place at a frat party? that's new," if there's hell, yours is definitely tied to sunghoon, your personal lucifer on guard. amidst a roaring crowd of people he still manages to find you and get on your nervous in a matter of seconds. time and again he's proven to be the bane of your existence.

"shouldn't that go for you, mr first place? don't you want to keep it?" against the counter on the far end of the kitchen, he has you trapped.

"keeping you? i think i already have it," his lips grazing over your ear as he whispers in a low voice, pulling away immediately to leave you wanting for more. "no i-" you shutter for the first time in front of him, shit.

"i meant the last assignment, i scored more than you," you sound much softer and tinier than you would have ever liked to, but your brain's in such a mess you can't think straight.

"you're so studious it's cute but chipmunk i couldn't give a shit about being second place to you, you can take my place any time you like," he gets so much closer again you start panicking, if you don't get out of here right now, losing all your pride and prudence to him wouldn't be impossible anymore.

pushing him away slightly you hope he'd give way to you,"i'm gonna go find heeseung," adding all the more reason to it. "let me help you with that," but he's adamant on not leaving you alone today. six months of watching you have a crush on his best friend and he's had enough.

dragging you out to the living room, he brings you to the couch on the other end of where heeseung stands surrounded by his group of friends. and sitting down on it, is immediately pulling you onto his lap, hands going around the waist to hold you close,"let's make him jealous," his lips brush against yours, getting a sweet taste of your lipgloss. just like how he's always imagined.

"kiss me,"

and heeseung sighs from across the room. fucking finally.

taglist. ( open ) @kangseulgithegreat @s00buwu @luvyev @pockyyasii @nctislifue @ashtxrie @miniature-tragedy @jayujus @nanabbg @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly

[casuallyanidiot]

Yantober Day 4

Homemade Meal [Yandere Girlfriend x Gn. Reader]

Using @ozzgin's prompt list!

yeah I'm like totally behind on yantober at this point, but I'm going to keep trying to write for it because I don't like the thought of quitting lmao. This one is kind of boring but I wanted to try something a bit different from what I usually do

Tipjar :)

TW! MDNI ! DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT! Abusive relationship, manipulation, isolation, toxic af relationship, yandere

You're girlfriend isn't really happy about the fact that you've got a job...

2.7k words

Recently, Dannica was obsessed with this domestic shit, and it was pissing you off big time.

“One of us should stay home and look after the place.”

Oh please. Like either of you could afford to take care of two people. You worked a night shift at a convenience store, and your on and off again girlfriend did god knows what. She could be whoring herself out for all you knew. It didn’t matter. You couldn’t survive on your own, and she always managed to bring in just enough cash every couple of weeks to make sure neither of you starved. 

“Dis’ is bullshit…” You grumbled out, an unlit cigarette pressed between your lips as you held a lighter in one hand and your phone in the other. It was blowing up like crazy, eating up your already precious break time. 

Where are you?

Send me a photo.

Are you with someone?

Are you cheating on me?

Pick up

Now

I’ll seriously leave this time if you don’t

I love you

“Ugh, shut up,” You huffed as you put your phone on do not disturb and slid it into your pocket. Shielding the stick of tobacco with one hand, you lit up your menthol infused vice. Your bleak eyes stared out into the near empty parking lot, only occupied by your beater of a car, a raccoon digging through a nearby dumpster, a swarm of moths enveloping a street light like a halo, and yourself. Everything was bathed in an eerie, cold glow from the buzzing LED sign from the store. You inhaled before you let out a plume of smoke into the open air. You tilted your head back, letting it rest against the concrete wall.

Dannica had been getting worse recently. 

It wasn’t like you didn’t know what you were getting into when you first started going out with her. She hit all the boxes of a crazy chick. Split dyed hair, tongue piercings, eyeliner so sharp it looked like it could kill a man. She had this look in her eye that had you drooling along like an obedient dog, pinning her to the wall and laughing at every other word she said. 

“You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

She was right, but you were far too drunk at the time to realize that.

You sighed and rubbed your eyes as you stepped back into the store after grinding the last of the embers under your muddy, stained shoes. The bright, cold lights sucked up any last vestiges of your mind. Check the cameras, check the register, check the shelves… you had done everything that you needed to for the rest of your shift. Well, at least until the small amount of people would trickle in after all the local bars closed. 

3am. You only had to wait until 3am before you could go home. You would normally be excited, but there was a familiar seed of dread that was blooming into a full blown nausea. You stared down at the old, faded clock, watching with a bleak stare as your free time dwindled.

You just didn’t understand why she was so fixated on having someone be home at all times. It’s not like your place was nice. All the furniture was shitty and second hand. If anything was stolen, it would be a pain in the ass to replace, but it wouldn’t be impossible per se. You had no pets and no, god forbid, kids, so what was it? Why was she putting so much pressure on this whole thing. Plus, although she acted like she would be fine with either of you staying home, cooking, cleaning, and waiting eagerly for the other to return, you knew that the one person she wanted to have as little contact with the outside world wouldn’t be herself.

You blinked as a paper was slid onto the counter in front of you. You blinked in surprise as you looked at the intimidating man standing before you, wearing a black face mask and a dark gray hoodie. The random tightness of the fabric as he moved suggested that he was probably fucking jacked underneath his baggy attire. You looked up at him with a slow blink. When had he come in? The bell to the front door hadn’t even chimed.

“Bring these home.”

“What?”

You jumped slightly as he spoke. You looked down at the paper. It was a list of ingredients all scrawled in Dannica’s handwriting.

“Bring those home with you when you close up for the night,” He repeated before lighting himself a cigarette. Your nose wrinkled. There were like 50,000 no smoking signs in here. “If I were you, I’d shutter down and head back right now. I mean, if you don’t wanna lose all your privileges and all… Here,” He said and slid another item across the surface. This one was an envelope filled with a wad of cash. “She doesn’t want you paying.”

So you ended up sitting in front of your apartment complex, your car’s shitty engine still thrumming. There was a bag of the groceries she wanted in the passenger seat, and you gripped the plastic bag with a shaky sigh. 

It was like you were in a trance like state. Turn off the car. Go up the steps. Put the key in the lock. Turn it. 

The bag felt heavy in your hand, and the faded number painted on the door before you seemed like it was growing blurrier and blurrier by the second. You didn’t want to open this door. You didn’t want to go inside and face her and whatever this was. You hadn’t even mustered up the will to turn your phone back on. 

You could only imagine all the things she had sent you. Would she call you a slut again? Or threaten to destroy all your shit? Would she go through with it, like she had one time when you found your clothes all shredded?

Dannica hadn’t done anything wrong today.

Yeah, your girlfriend had been a bit annoying, sure. That was putting it lightly, honestly, but she really hadn’t fucked up crazily. She’d only… She’d only sent someone to your job… and threatened you with some vague punishment if you didn’t come home…

That couldn’t be good, and it certainly wasn’t healthy. After all you put up with, she thinks she can push you around by sending some lackey or friend or whatever after you? Not to mention, it pissed you off to no end that she got someone else involved in all your toxic, messy shit. That was it. You couldn’t go through with this when you were so aggravated. It would only make things worse. She made you worse.

You turned away to go back to your car, to figure out where you would go tonight, to really process the fact that you probably, most definitely, were done with all of this-

“[Name]? What are you doing out here? Come inside already.”

You listened. You didn’t know why but you did. Dannica stood there with her hands on her hips and a slight frown on her pretty face. You just stared at her, unmoving for a couple of seconds, before she huffed and reached out to grab you by the wrist and pull you inside.

“Are you dumb or what, baby? Ugh, see this is why I’m telling you that you should be the one to stay home… That place has got you all spacey and shit… not listening to me…,” she grumbled and shut the door behind you with a resounding click. The apartment was dingy for the most part, but it had touches of where you tried to make it look and feel more cozy with some cheap fairy lights strung up haphazardly. It used to feel more vibrant and homey, but after every argument, you’d find that another trinket would be shattered, or another photo of a loved one would mysteriously disappear. 

“Did you at least do what I asked you to?”

“Huh?” You finally snapped out of it and looked at her. She was all up in your space, caging you against the cheap, linoleum counter. Her manicured nails drummed on the surface, and she narrowed her eyes. You cleared your throat and shrugged.

“Dunno’... you kinda lit me up there so I just turned off my phone…” You answered and brought the bag up to set it down and start putting away the fresh stuff. Dannica’s expression brightened when she saw it, though, and you paused as a big, cheshire cat grin stretched across her lips.

“You did listen!” She gushed and hugged you suddenly, and you had to stop yourself from flinching too much.

“Oh.” You said, standing there a bit stupidly. Oh, indeed. It was like you didn’t even want to really consider that she had sent someone, that she had gone that far.  “Yeah that… Danni, what the fuck was that?”

“What was what?”

“Don’t play dumb. What was with that guy that showed up at my work? Who was he?” You asked and shook her shoulders just a bit to emphasize how seriously you were taking this. As much as Dannica hated the fact that you worked so late, in such a ‘dangerous’ area, and really the fact that you worked at all, she had never stepped over the line that you had firmly set once she started showing signs of her paranoia and clinginess. 

Never, ever show up to your work unless it was something serious.

The only time she had even come close to doing so was when she followed you to and from work one day to make sure you weren’t off cheating somewhere, so having her do this felt too much. You couldn’t not bring it up. You couldn’t not be angry.

“Hmm? Him? Oh… he’s no one, really. Just a … colleague,” She hummed as if she was bored, like you shouldn’t even bother to ask in the first place. Her gaze sharpened all of a sudden, and you could’ve sworn you saw a thought be processed in her mind in real time. “Unless… unless you want to know more about him? Why? Is it because you think he’s cute or something? What did you two talk about, huh?” 

“What? No it’s not-! You know what? I’m not even going to answer that. This is fucking stupid…” You muttered despite how pissed her expression was. Her grip grew stronger, and you shrugged it off as you moved to start putting away the groceries.

“It’s not stupid. I’m just trying to make sure we’re okay. Don’t you want that?”

“I didn’t realize me going to work meant we weren’t doing well. You know usually it’d be a good thing if the other person in a relationship isn’t a deadbeat…” You snorted, and Dannica put her hand over yours to stop you from dumping the vegetables into the Crisper drawer. A frown was etched on her face, mirroring your own. She wordlessly pulled out a piece of paper and slapped it down in front of you. Your lips curled back in disbelief as she tapped it with a sharply filed nail.

“Look…” She relented, or at least pretended to. “Just make this for me, kay? You can do that, right? I just want a good night, baby. No more fighting, no yelling. Can’t we just have a good meal?” Her words were like honeyed poison. You didn’t understand how someone could switch their tone so quickly. You turned your head away, just to escape from having to look at her, and actually read what she was trying to prompt towards you. It was a recipe for a meal. It wasn’t anything complex, just roasted vegetables and pasta, and it fit what she had made you buy to a tee. You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose.

“Babe…” You mumbled. Your anger was being stamped out with every breath you forced yourself to take. You just needed to calm down. She wouldn’t stop bitching until you calmed down. “I’m tired-”

“You’re not that tired,” She jutted in, and you huffed. She brought out some pots and pans. “Just start the oven and cook,” she gestured to the crockery with an impatient, patronizing wave. You bit your lip in frustration.

“I don’t even want to eat right now. It’s 4 am. I just wanna go to bed.”

“So you don’t want to spend time with me then?” She accused, and you found your hands instinctively reaching for the cutting board and knife.

“What? I didn’t even say that.”

“But you meant it.”

“No? Danni, quit doing this shit. Just because you don’t get your way doesn’t mean I have to deal with you being all pissy. Look, I’m fucking making it, okay?” Each other word was enunciated with a swift thunk of a vegetable being sliced. You just wanted her to stop talking, to leave you alone, but you felt Dannica press up to your back. You felt her pouty lips against your shifting shoulder blades, and suddenly your already tiny apartment became a thousand times more cramped. Your skin crawled, and you tried to ignore how trapped you felt.

“Quit your job,” She said, not asked.

You stayed silent, though your muscles tensed and your heart hammered in your chest like a motor revving up. Your entire body was ready to spring, ready to just leave. You didn’t want to do this anymore, but it was like you couldn’t do anything but move with a molasses-like pace, grabbing the right ingredients, filling the pot, turning on the oven. You gripped the handle of the knife tightly.

Her hands slinked down over your waist, settling on the bones of your hips and clinging as a second skin. Her breath was hot on your neck, and you felt her teeth nibbling gently. Her efforts soon grew larger, and you couldn’t help but feel like she was just trying to get a reaction out of you, so she could have an excuse to smush you further down into whatever she wanted. Her bites became sharper. She was eating you alive.

“Hey, baby, answer me,” she said again once you stood back from the stove. You were at the point in the recipe where nothing else could be done except to wait.

“I like working Danni,” you stressed, and you flinched when you heard how desperate you sounded. 

“I know,” she cooed. You felt like you were crazy. Why did it sound like she was the reasonable one here? While you were what, a hysterical thing that she was so kindly taking care of?

“I know, but it’s not good for us. And I think I’ve been pretty patient and good about it so far, but I’m not going to let you just ruin everything because you want a little extra money. I know you like being independent, but I can take care of you. You know that? You don’t have to worry with me, baby,” she murmured. Dannica was calm, almost even elegant, while she was shutting down your life.

“But you don’t earn enough to support two people-”

“I do,” She insisted, and her arms looped around your waist and squeezed ever so slightly. You wheezed, and you felt her smiling. You just stared at the wall, hoping that if you blinked and turned around, magically she wouldn’t be there anymore. 

“I can, baby. You don’t even know what I’d do if you would just let me.”

The pit in your stomach grew despite the warm, inviting aroma that started to waft up from the oven, the little clock you hand winded up ticking away merrily. Her nails drummed over your clothing, teasing with the waistband of your pants. You jerked away, and she pressed her sharpened digits further in. You hissed out in pain, and she let out a disapproving hum.

“Quit your job, baby,” she repeated. This time, it felt like more of a placated threat. “Or else.”

By the time the timer finally chimed out, and the meal was ready to be plated, you knew that you had no more room to argue.

[finniestoncrane]

mm I’m haunted by so many visions. When. When Egon Splenger. Makes that joke. The penis joke. And he has that smile. That look. With the bookcase behind him. TUMBLR USER FINNIESTONECRANE! I have NEVER felt such a STRONG urge to shove a man against a bookcase. He just. I. When he. When. Just like. He. When. Mm.

Egon Spengler x Fem!Reader, word count: 1.6k anon you and me both i cant express to you how badly that scene made me want him and i wanted him pretty fuckin badly before that lmao BUT here's some reader who is actually able to prove his theory that the chicks dig his epididymus moore so👻 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: oral sex, flirting, handjob, good old fashioned ball gargling

"Studious, dedicated. Intelligent beyond need for the work I'd require you to do... Why do you want this position?"

You remembered the moment well. The interview with Egon that landed you the job in his research team. You'd fumbled over the words at first, your entire academic career flashing before your eyes. Ever since you had first seen him in those silly commercials, then watched him as he saved the world and went back to the field for his work, you'd wanted him. The opportunity to work with him was something you had waited your life for. And you thought you had ruined it in the moment.

"I'm a huge fan, Doctor Spengler."

Nothing about your academic achievements, your interest in this particular study, or any of his previous ones. No, you'd muttered a ridiculous statement with no substance that made you seem like a childish moron.

But Egon had raised an eyebrow, a smile raising on one side of his mouth in a knowing look. Almost flirtatious, definitely something behind it.

That's how your relationship had continued, the tension only building each passing day as you worked together late into the evenings and often on weekends, each others' only point of contact for days on end.

Nothing had ever come of it, though, past suggestive remarks and lingering touches, looks that felt like they lasted for minutes. You wondered if you were both far too shy to confront it, or if he felt it would push the boundaries of professionalism.

Either way, you harboured the crush still, and spent your days making sure you worked to his expectations, living to please him in at least one of the ways you wanted to. It was that level of concentration that meant you hadn't noticed when Egon's old colleague, Doctor Venkman, had entered the lab. At least not until he had begun making loud remarks and crude jokes, intended to be at the expense of Egon.

"Bet those science chicks really dig that big cranium of yours."

With a quick glance in your direction, Egon caught your eye. You looked away, trying to pretend that you weren't staring at him, but it was obvious he had caught you. And with a growing grin, he looked back to Venkman.

"I think they're more interested in my epididymis."

You blushed immediately, understanding the joke a lot faster than Venkman, who might not have gotten it at all. Trying to hide the reddening of your cheeks, you buried your face in your paperwork and didn't even bother to look up as Venkman said goodbye and left the lab. You only looked up when Egon cleared his throat, catching him just as he turned his back to you and continued filing through the paperwork and medical books lined up on the shelves in front of him.

That was a giveaway, a hint, securing the possibility in your mind. Egon had been talking about you. The joke, a reference to your clear interest in him, a sly but subtle nod at the unspoken attraction, an inside joke between you and him in front of his friend. The way he had looked at you, the way he always did. It was difficult to deny it. So you took matters into your own hands, a little bit sick of waiting for him to make the first move. You'd applied to the job, you'd complimented him first, you began the surreptitious flirting. You might as well be the one that started this too.

"Doctor Spengler..."

You spoke from the other side of the room, only beginning to walk towards him when he had turned away from the bookshelves and was paying attention to you.

"... do you have any evidence to that theory that you proposed?"

"Which theory?"

"The one about your... cranium, verses other aspects of your anatomy.

As you approached him, he smiled to you, a knowing grin that spoke volumes.

"I've observed a fair amount of evidence to support it, actually."

He turned from you again, filing the last of the files he held in his hands as he continued.

"Although, I suppose for it to be concrete, I would require some quantifiable data. An example that could-"

As he turned once more, he found you right in front of him, reaching your hand out to cup the front of his dark grey, woollen slacks. You stroked down the quickly stiffening length, letting your fingers reach further, teasing at his balls. Leaning into him, you pushed his back against the book case, watching as his eyes widened, his smile grew brighter, and his cheeks began to darken.

"Would this be sufficient evidence?"

Egon's voice shook on the first word, but he managed to compose himself.

"P-perhaps. Although, it wouldn't be much to write about in an academic or research sense."

"Oh, I can give you a lot to write about, Doctor Spengler."

You pressed your chest to him, hands around his neck and pulling him into a kiss. As your palms drifted around to his cheeks, they quickly fell to his tie, tugging on it as you brought him closer, feeling his own hands skimming over your side, settling on your waist as the kiss deepened. Satisfied that he wasn't going anywhere, you let go of your grip on him and began running your hands through his hair, playfully teasing at the curls before you pulled back, watching with glee as he followed you, lips outstretched, before opening his eyes.

"This isn't about your cranium, though, Doctor Spengler."

Sinking to your knees in front of him, you looked up as you unbuckled his belt and unzipped his fly. He reached behind him, resting his palms against the rows of books and files, trying to balance himself as he cleared the nerves from his throat. A short inhale choked in his throat as you gripped his cock, removing it from his underwear and letting it bounce free in front of you.

You wrapped your palm around his surprising, but slim, length and being stroking it slowly, watching the way his mouth moved, tongue pressing out, soft gasps emanating from his throat, as you felt him throbbing against you. And just as he adjusted himself to the sensation of your hand pumping his cock softly, you leaned forwards, tongue out, spread flat, and suddenly against his balls.

"Oh-ho... oh my."

With a soft laugh, you placed a kiss to his sack, lips wet from your drool, and let your mouth pull away for just a second before you went back in for another, tongue pushed out from your lips to lap at him as you kissed once more. On the third one, you let your lips enclose over a patch of skin, sucking slightly, tongue tip stiff and tracing over the skin in your mouth before you let go.

You stroked his cock a little rougher, placing your tongue just below it so his balls could bounce and slap on your tongue, the gentle impact rousing a heat in you, the sound almost electric in the air. Egon's fingers were stiff, tensed, tented against the shelves so firmly that his knuckles were white.

"This is... quite sufficient evidence... if you'd like to conclude the experiment."

"Do you want me to stop, Egon?"

He looked down to you, your gaze returned through your eyelashes as you blinked slowly.

"No. No. Absolutely not."

"Me either."

With a grin you kept going, fingers still wrapped tight around his cock, palm sliding against it as you pumped it rhythmically. You opened your mouth wide as you stroked, letting one of his balls rest on your tongue before you sucked it into your mouth, salivating at the taste of him, drool washing over his skin and dribbling down your chin as you hollowed your cheeks.

You let go with a pop, slurping as you released him from your lips, frothed drool spilling onto your chin as you tried to clean yourself up before diving back towards him, moaning as you jerked his cock and lapped at both balls now, futilely attempting to fit both of them in your mouth at the same time.

Instead, you let your tongue glide over them, flitting quickly from side to side as you tightened your grip on his length, only faltering with your speed when he stuttered out some words with a desperate, pleading tone.

"Ah... I think we have... sufficient evidence to... reach a... hmmm... conclusion..."

"Of course, Doctor Spengler. How would you like me to collect the results?"

A strangled laugh barked out of his throat, his eyes pressed tightly shut as he processed the words you had just said, so serious, so familiar, but so filthy.

"T-tongue... tongue, please..."

Still stroking his shaft, you picked up the speed and brought your other hand up to cup his balls, squeezing them firmly, easing up every now and then so he could feel the throb of pleasure as you tightened once more. Your mouth was open wide, a moan passing up and over your tongue which was laid out flat, ready for him.

It only took a few more seconds before his cum was painting your tongue, as well as the rest of your face. Thick, white ropes of his warm seed spattered on your skin, along your taste buds, a not unpleasant tang of salt lingering even after you swallowed what you had collected, still more of it dripping from the tip and onto your hand.

You stroked a few more times, until his body convulsed at your touch, and then you let go, standing up in front of him and wiping a drop of his cum from the corner of your mouth. He was unbalanced, his eyes half-lidded and hazy from the release, but he managed to speak through his lopsided smile.

"Wait until the scientific community hears about that."

[apdreadful]

What a day…

“I should get back to the firehouse, shower and change” Tommy says, his coat in his hand.

“Mmmm” Buck hums giving Tommy a heat filled look.

Tommy’s laugh was low and made things in Bucks stomach clench. “Evan babe. As much as the idea of sleeping wrapped around you sounds amazing” he presses his lips to Bucks, murmuring against them “because there is zero chance I would be up for anything else. I need to sleep. Are you free tomorrow? Maybe you can come over if you don’t have a shift”

“I’m free. No shift” Buck smiles “And that sounds great” Buck puts his hands in his pockets to keep from mauling him again “Thanks for coming today, even though you’ve been working all night.”

Tommy reaches out, cupping Bucks jaw. “I told you I’d do my best. And that welcome made it worth it.” His hand slips to Bucks nape bringing his mouth to his where he gives him a long slow deep kiss, his tongue sweeping into Bucks mouth eliciting a small moan from the back of his throat.

Tommy smiles against Bucks mouth “Looks like l can make you make that sound too”

Buck laughs throatily “That was dead sexy as fuck you know”

Tommy kisses him again, making Buck grab his overall straps “I look forward to seeing what other sounds we can pull out of each other” Taking Buck’s bottom lip between his teeth tugging gently on it before pressing another soft kiss to Buck’s lips and resting his forehead against his.

Buck nods “But, no tonight. You want me to drop you at the firehouse?” Buck asks.

Tommy leans back and looks down at his soot covered turn out.

“You can throw it in the back of the jeep, I got a tarp back there”

Tommy grins “I’m beginning to see one of those perks of dating a hot firefighter”

“Ready for everything” Buck quips.

“You sure you don’t mind?”

“You know I don’t” he replies.

“Then yes. That would be great” His look is full of amusement “But you might want to wash your face..again”

“I’d forgotten about that” Buck shakes his head with a chuckle “why bother at this point”

*

At the firehouse, Buck hesitates before pulling in, his eyes flicking to Tommy “Where you want me to drop you” He could see a bunch of the guys milling around inside.

Tommy points to the left of the doors “that’s good for me”

After parking Buck jumps out to grab Tommy’s coat from the back, coming around he hands it to him.

Taking it. Tommy grabs a handful of Bucks sweatshirt hauling him close for another kiss. Earning some whoops and cheers from the guys inside.

When they’re both breathless again Tommy let’s go and steps back with a grin “Thank god I’m wearing this. Or the team would read my right to the walls for walking in with a hard on”

Buck hums his approval “Now I get why chicks dig firefighters, because the idea of peeling you out of this is hot.” He steps back “Now go. Get some sleep”

“Well, we can add that to the list” Tommy teases with a wink, turning to head into the firehouse “Peeling each other out of our uniforms”

“Along with flying lessons and Muay Thai?This turning into quite a list, Firefighter Kinard” Buck retorts, his voice laced with mischief “It might take a while to complete”

“That’s what I’m counting on, Firefighter Buckley” Tommy calls over his shoulder just as he steps into the open garage of the firehouse “I’m sure we can come up with some more things to add to that list as well”

As Buck climbs back into his car he sighs with bone deep contentment, still smiling. This day just may be one of the best days he’s had in quite a while. But he has a feeling there are a lot more to come.

[hellish-sunsets]

You're an Asshole - Pt 2 - First Attempt

Pt 1

Summary: Adam goes to a concert and tries to win reader over.

Warning: swearing

Word Count: 1,302

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

This was fucking bullshit.

He glared at the stupid list in his hand, squinting at the smudged and blurry ink. The room was quiet save for the ticking of the clock on the shelf somewhere above his head. The only light was from the desk lamp, dim and just enough to light the old wooden desk. It wasn’t the grand mahogany desk of his office at work, but the worn pine of the desk shoved in the corner of his bedroom. The corners were covered in dust, telling of how rarely this desk was used. Why would he? There was plenty of better shit to do.

He was supposed to be going to a concert later tonight. That should be a fuckton more fun than agonizing over this bullshit.

Misogynistic, egotistical, sex obsessed, demeaning, condescending (he was almost certain those two were the same thing but whatever), hateful, violent, foul-mouthed all around rude.

He was sure he wasn't always like this, was he? He huffed, scratching at the stubble on his chin. He chose not to dwell on that thought.  What mattered right now was proving to that stuck up bitch he wasn't an asshole. Even if… he was starting to think maybe he was. But what did that matter? No one was perfect. Besides, he was the first man himself! He was allowed a few more assholeish mannerisms, right? 

Fuck that stupid bitch! This whole thing was fucking with his head. He would just got to this lame ass concert, prove to that bitch he was the most charming, not assholish person in existence, they would fuck and he could be over with this whole fucking situation.

He smirked at himself, leaning back in the chair, the old wood creaking under his weight. He would be sure this night would be worth it.

‐‐—--------------------

Just as he suspected, the concert itself was lame as fuck, some whiny emo bullshit he just couldn't get behind. He spent most of the time looking around for her. What even was her name again? He couldn't remember, not that it mattered. 

He didn't catch sight of her until the concert was almost over, the chorus of the last song clashing over the audience and drowning out their cheers. She was towards the front, the lights flashing and playing across her skin, lighting up her face and broad white smile, long white hair  and wings reflecting the various colors, mostly blues and purples. She almost looked like she was glowing, but that was corny ass couple shit or something. It was just another chick at a concert, just like all these other bitches. 

He let her enjoy the rest of the song before approaching her, the last clash of the cymbals his signal to swoop in.

“Watch this, Lute.” He said with a smirk, elbow digging into her side and making her scowl and roll her eyes. “I'm gonna have this bitch eating out of my hand.”

“I know, sir, just get going before she runs off.” She said with a huff, fighting off a smirk of her own. He gave her a mock salute and headed towards his latest victim, the picture of innocence as she happily chatted with the few winners around her, unaware of how hard she was about to fall for him. He shoved through the crowd, earning scowls he ignored. 

Just be nice. Don't talk about yourself too much. Pretend you care. He could do this, just for one night.

“Hey, ti- uh, toots!” He said with a cocky grin, sliding in next to her. He mentally congratulated himself for not calling her tits. Most chick's didn't like it. He wasn't wearing his mask tonight, figured it would be easier to win her over if he could use his naturally good looks. That, and maybe she was stupid enough to think he was someone else. 

The group around her seemed tense when he showed up. One of them, another chick, tried to grab her arm and drag her away, but she gently nudged them off and offered them a warm smile.

“Hi, Adam. Gotta say, bit surprised to see you around here. Didn't think you liked this type of music.”

Not stupid then. Good, more fun that way. 

“Ya know, just figured I'd try something new.” He said with a half shrug. 

Her eyes lit up, a sparkling sort of blue. He couldn’t make out the exact shade in the dim lighting of the venue. “Good for you! I love hearing new music, it's so interesting to see all the different ways humans come up with to make songs! I also just really like finding what new instruments they come up with! How did you like it?” 

He could feel the smirk slip from his face as he huffed. He had a lot of words to describe this donkey shit of a concert: whiney, pathetic, shit, stupid, fucking lame. But he couldn’t voice any of that. He had to be polite. Eventually he managed another shrug.

“Yeah, definitely not my thing. Still going metal and rock and roll all the way.” That cocky smirk of his returned to his face and she gave an understanding nod. 

“Yeah, fair enough, but I'm glad you gave it a try! Life’s boring if you never try anything new.” She said with that flashing smile. Her friend's hand was on her arm again, but she still wouldn’t follow their lead, not yet anyways. He smirked to himself. He was reeling her in nicely, he was sure. 

“Yeah? And what music do you find rockin'm?” It was a trick question, of course. He had already heard her music before, but he wasn’t about to let that slip. Don't want to give her a big head or something or give off the impression he was some fan. 

“Ah, I don't usually have a genre preference.” She said with a wave of her hand, feathers ruffling slightly as she thought. “It's more like… I have specific songs I like, but no favorite genre. I don't really have a favorite band either. That's kind of fucking lame though, huh?” She said that last part with a nervous chuckle, wings drooping slightly, finger scratching at her cheek.

“Of fucking course not, don't be fucking stupid.” He said with a frown. It was a rather lame attempt at reassurance, but that was the best he could do. Her eyes widened in surprise and he was sure he had fucked it up, but then she flashed that bright smile of hers. 

“Aw, thanks Adam! I guess you're right. Anyways.” She waved it off and continued. “I'm in a band and we do stick to a specific genre, I guess, but that’s just for image, you know? No one likes a band that's constantly changing genre. It's like… folk… punk? I think that's the best way to describe it.”

“Fuck yeah, sounds badass.” And he might have actually meant it? He wasn’t entirely sure. Probably not. “Anyway, want to take this party on the road or something?”

And for a moment he really did think he had her. She gave him that pretty little smile, her wings fluttering slightly.

“Nah, I can’t.” He could feel his face fall and she giggled at that look. “Awww, come on, don’t look so disappointed! I’ve got work to do before bed, but we can hang out another time, okay?” 

It took every fiber in his being to remind himself to keep his cool, play it off, it wasn’t a no. He could still win her over yet.

“Yeah, alright, no biggie. Catch you next time bitch!” He abruptly turned away and marched off, managing to hide the scowl on his face, at least from her.

Next time, bitch. He would fucking get her next time.

[eddiemunson-reader-shame]

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader: Space Oddity, Part 2

“Fuck the rest of them. Fuck ‘em all. Fuck ‘em all, but us.”

Word Count: 4,509 words (gahdamn)

Tag List (please lmk if you want to be added!): @melodymunson , @ali-r3n , @amandahobblepot , @twihard28 , @hiimjulie

[Chapter One]

Author’s Note: Fuck me Freddy, at last I have completed fanfic. This chapter was so much fun to write, especially after watching Dinner in America and feeling so seen and validated about the weird, off putting girl and the badass boyfriend relationship.

Interesting fact about this chapter, I actually did have two friends who decided one day to randomly exclude me from their friend group. They wrote me two actual, dumb ass letters I pretended to read about how they thought I was weird and they didn’t want to be my friend. The first one they put in my locker and I pretended I didn’t get it. The second one they handed to me in PE where I proceeded to laugh at them, rip it up, then throw the pieces in the trash. People think that only happens in bad 80’s movies, but some high school girls can actually be that stupid and comic book villain mean.

*****

“Mike! Jesus Christ, don’t just throw her!”

You and Eddie were fumbling with the spilled contents of your trapper keeper, trying to collect each sheet of xerox and graph paper. Every so often, Eddie would accidentally bump your shoulder or accidentally knock into you, and when you both went in to pick up a caricature you’d done of Angus Young, his head hit your nose.

Hard.

“Augh! Sorry, buttercup!” He said, quickly reaching out with his hands, “You okay?”

“My nose hurts…” you mumbled.

“Come here, lemme see.”

His hands were on your cheeks, you were in too much pain to realize Eddie Munson was actually touching you.

“Owie… Yup, I can see where I bonked you.” He winced in sympathetic pain as his thumb brushed your injury, “But you’ll be alright, it’s not broken. Come on. Upsy daisy.”

Mike and Dustin were at each other’s throats. Dustin was reprimanding Mike for turning you into a human football, while Mike was defending his actions for making sure you “stopped acting like a tool”.

“Knock it off, assholes!” Eddie snapped.

Mike and Dustin immediately ceased their caterwauling, and looked like scolded chihuahuas, ducking away from Eddie who looked like he was going to throw a chair.

“God dammit, you’re giving me a headache.” He hissed, then turned to you.

All you could do was stand there, awkwardly digging the tip of your shoe into the carpet. Avoiding any and all eye contact.

“You look real familiar…” Eddie said, pointing a ringed finger at you, “I know you… Where do I know you from?”

“… I sit behind you in Mrs. O’Donnell’s Economics class.” You whispered.

Pure, unapologetic joy made his face bloom pink, a dimpled smile gracing his features as his dark brown eyes sparkled with stars. Eddie clapped his hands, jabbing a finger in your general direction and then pacing side to side with his arms crossed.

“I knew it! I do remember you! You’re the funny chick who drew Figment the Dragon on the chalkboard, and then did the T. Rex thing with your hands when The ’Donnell tried to erase it!”

Eddie tucked his arms to his chest and made a terrific mimic of your high pitched screech, causing his friends to laugh hard and their eyes to light up in recognition. Your eyes widened, and you wanted to immediately die. Naively you didn’t think anyone had remembered your stand against O’Donnell and her dislike for Disney related media. She told you this wasn’t Mr. Miller’s art class. Of course, you let her have it, and it almost cost you a detention — and permanent placement in Hawkins High School’s joke of a Special Education program — until your mother came down to the school with her attorney from Indianapolis and raised hell, both of them threatening Principal Higgins, Mrs. O’Donnell, and the school Superintendent with a discrimination lawsuit. Since then you’d done even more outrageous shit to make everyone forget and keep away the bullying, surely this one time would have been buried in the numerous instances of other out of pocket things you did?!

Nope. Evidently the Figment Incident was the talk of Hellfire Club, and your crush could replicate your noises to a T.

“Oh shit! You’re the Dragon Lady!” said a guy in a Black Sabbath raglan with blue sleeves.

“The Badass herself in the flesh!” interjected one with curly hair.

“You’re a goddamn legend, dude!” laughed one guy that was eating Doritos by the handful, “We even made you into a character in one of our campaigns! She’s a wizard with a purple dragon — of course we named it Figment — and they communicate in Draconic Tongue to one another!”

“Like this!”

Eddie screeched again, and the guys burst into laughter.

You couldn’t help but cover your face with your trapper keeper. If there was a God, you wanted him to burst out of the sky in a puff of smoke and smite you and everyone else in the room with lightning bolts.

“After that time, you didn’t ever get out of your desk chair again.” Eddie said, crossing his arms after he stopped laughing, “Always sitting in back, keeping to yourself. I don’t think I’ve even heard you say more than three words to anyone all semester.”

Stepping lightly, Eddie began to circle you. Looking you up and down, cocking his head to the side and doing a little bit of an arrogant head waggle.

“Didn’t peg you for a D&D nerd, buttercup.” He said, his voice gaining a sudden confidence as he stepped to you, “By the look of this dandelion yellow sweater, I would have guessed you’d be more the Seventeen Magazine and like, naked slumber party pillow fights with fellow screamers kind of girl.”

You shook your head. You stopped buying Seventeen Magazine when your attempts to apply their makeup lessons to your everyday routine made you look like a KISS reject. And you’d never even had enough friends for a slumber party.

“You like to draw, huh?” He asked.

He was fishing for a reaction. Trying to make you talk.

You nodded.

“What else?”

“… I like to read…”

His head tilted to the side.

“Yeah? What do you like to read? You ever read anything by Rose Estes or Fritz Leiber?”

“Are you two gonna stand there flirting all night, or are we gonna roll some dice?” Cried out one of the boys, the one with the curly hair.

“Yeah man, does the lady even have a character?”

“Oh she’s got a goddamn character!” Mike interjected confidently while Dustin nodded.

“The best character, a tanky character, real hardcore shit.” Dustin said.

Eddie chuckled darkly, looking at you with a menacing grin as he got in your face.

“What’s your character, buttercup? Level one human fighter?” He teased.

“A cleric…” you whispered.

Eyebrows raised. He looked up, thought for a moment, pursed his lips and shrugged.

“Okay. Yeah… yeah I can see that.” He nodded, looking you over, “A little tough tootsie badass, but you’ve got a soft spot as a healer for a holy order. I can dig it.”

Rapid fire, he then began tossing a million questions your way, so fast and in a run on you had to stop to listen to keep up.

“You didn’t tell me your race though. What is it? Hengeyokai? Gnome? Half-orc? What domain did you choose? Life? Arcana? How about your weapon, did you pick a claymore?” With each question, his sneer grew.

Mike and Dustin looked on fearfully, worried that you could not answer him. They knew Eddie was sizing you up, setting a trap with his trick questions. The claymore was a clever way for him to catch you on your bullshit, to see if you were even paying attention.

Suddenly, as if possessed by a cambion, you began to unload on him in a trance-like monotone. Pulling out a character study where you’d spent all last period drawing the same Siouxsie Sioux-esque vamp beauty of a character that made up your D&D creation, you waved the character sheet in his face while you began monologuing.

“Um no… so, Shadowmoon is a level ten half-elf cleric of Shar — I picked Trickery domain for her — and she’s like cursed by the Lady of Sorrows so her morals are like, super flexible and kinda fucked up. And she’s got like, a Sharran morningstar because I know that clerics in Advanced Dungeons and Dragons can’t have any other weapons besides a morningstar and it’s really useful for her, and I wanted to make her a healer for the party because Dustin said everyone else mainly tanks but no one wants to play support, and I think a cleric could be useful because then maybe she could help be the face of the group — do you already have a group face? Shadowmoon would make a good face because she’s gothic and really pretty. And then like, Shadowmoon would be good at lying because she could like… cast Guidance to help with her high charisma modifier-…”

“How did you end up choosing Trickery?” Eddie interrupted, snatching your character sheet from your hands.

You paused, thought it over carefully, then tried again.

“Uh… Shadowmoon was already part of my story I’m writing, so, I thought Trickery fit her personality best because she’s like, pretending to be this honest healer to everyone when really she’s on a mission to deliver an artifact to her temple on a mission from her dark goddess. She’s um… she’s a Chaotic Neutral so like, she could get along with everyone and either murderhobo her way through encounters or maybe she can change into good halfway...”

You trailed off when you noticed that Eddie hadn’t really reacted at all to your lore dump. He wasn’t really paying much attention to you at all. Nose pressed to the paper, he was engrossed in your character sheet.

Immediately you panicked, thinking Dustin and Mike had been bullshitting and lying to you about Eddie liking girls who knew what they were talking about when it came to Dungeons & Dragons. He almost had that look on his face: the one you dreaded where the eyes would glass over, and you could tell someone wasn’t paying attention to what you were saying. As if they were bored of your rambling. Bored of you. It was the look that made you want to scream and cry, and lash out.

But to your surprise, Eddie handed you back your character sheet, and smiled.

“Not only do you have your backstory mapped out, but you’re making connections to your own story setting… You’re a full on closet nerd, aren’t you, buttercup?” He said.

“… I like fantasy and sci-fi.” You muttered.

Pause, and then he laughed.

“The cyberman fighting the chimera you drew in the corner near the Special Abilities area kind of tipped me off to that.” He smiled, pointing to the drawing on your sheet.

Quickly you snatched Shadowmoon’s sheet back. Tucking it into your body, you shrunk in on yourself and avoided looking at Eddie.

“So you wanna join Hellfire, yeah?” He asked, once again crossing his arms and pacing around you.

“You think you can handle sitting with the freaks at lunch? Take a couple hits to your social life? Maybe even take a few blows…?”

You nodded eagerly. Of course you wanted to join! Your heart was pounding, and your mouth started to salivate. He’d even offered to let you sit at the lunch table with him and his friends!

“You certainly seem like you’re okay with it, but let me ask this…”

Eddie got right into your face. So close, you could smell the lingering notes of Old Spice deodorant and Sea Breeze. Hell, you could even see the areas of his chin that were lightly spotted with acne and the blue of his incoming beard. His breath was warm on your face. Steaming even. A waft of sweet tobacco hit your nostrils.

“What makes you think a mousy little buttercup like you would even fit in with a group of degenerates like us?” He asked, voice so low you had to lean in to hear him better.

“We’re not the chess club, and we’re not the Doctor Who club. This is nothing like you’ve ever experienced before. We’re the freaks, the underdogs of Hawkins High. The losers with too much time and imagination on our hands to do shit else.”

You gulped. He was pressing almost nose to nose with you. Staring you down and following your gaze when you looked at the floor.

“We are the weirdos your momma warned you about, little miss. You think you can handle us?” He murmured.

“… ‘malreadyweird…” you mumbled.

Immediately he pulled back, blinking.

“Huh?”

“I said: I’m already a weirdo.”

The rest was automatic. Shoulders up, arms and trapper keeper tucked further to your chest as you turned away from Eddie, insecurity creeping up into your heart as you grimaced.

“I’m the weirdo bitch who doesn’t have any friends, and who according to Shelley Warab in first period is ‘a fucking lunatic who is always drawing attention to herself’.” You said.

Eddie had looked confused, until the weight of your words sunk in.

“Drawing attention to yourse—… oh, hell no…”

“Drawing” attention to yourself, that was Shelley Warab’s attempt at a double entendre. But it was the furthest thing from the truth. If anything, you hid your drawings after the Figment Incident, and only drew during lecture on your own paper, when no one would talk to or look at you.

“And because Shelley Warab thinks you’re “drawing” attention to yourself, the other girls pick on you too, don’t they?” Eddie asked softly.

Your silence was all the confirmation he needed.

A large hand engulfed your shoulder. Shaking, with righteous fury. You looked up at him.

Eddie looked ready to burn down the school.

“They’re jealous. You know that right? Those jealous bitches are lost souls.” He hissed, “All they know how to do is steal daddy’s money to pay for acid, because they can’t come up with one goddamn original thought while sober. You can conjure up these elaborate, creative pieces like magic, and they hate it. Your talent makes them feel inadequate, so they try to drag you through the horseshit to make you stop. Don’t listen to them.”

You didn’t know what to say. You looked down shamefully, the Bitch of Hawkins High had her walls ripped down at last.

“Come on Eddie… look at her.” Dustin said softly, “You told us to look for the little lost sheep who didn’t fit in.”

All of your classmates said you were worse than the freaks. To them you were a mean girl. A bitch. The weird asshole who screamed at people and didn’t let boys like Tommy Hagan or Billy Hargrove come within five feet of your person before you started throwing sharp things at them.

“You’re damn right, Henderson.” Eddie responded, his voice just as soft as the fluff on a kitten.

“She’s exactly what we’ve been looking for: a shivering, lost little lamb… with no flock of her own to follow.”

His grip loosened, and he began to gently massage your shoulder.

“What say you, buttercup?” He asked, voice sweet and smooth as mulled honey wine, “You wanna be my little sheep?”

…

It had taken four years.

Four long, arduous, horrible years… Four years of screaming meltdowns. Uncontrollable rage bubbling up in your throat at the frustration of being excluded. At the lack of understanding. Nobody ever invited you to anything. No parties. No sleepovers. Not even to go to the bathroom together in solidarity.

Four lonely, long, miserable years… and someone had finally invited you to their group, saying you could belong…

The tears spilled out of your eyes in microseconds.

“Hey, hey! Sweetheart, don’t cry…”

Calloused ringed fingers were immediately wiping tears from your soft cheeks, patting you softly to calm you down. Eddie’s expressive, dark cognac colored eyes looked almost watery — like he was going to cry too — his brows furrowing into a frown as his facade of an intimidating freak immediately dropped.

“No…! None of that, sugarplum. You’re alright. There’s no crying in Hellfire Club, okay? You belong here, don’t cry…”

“R… really?”

His dimpled smile was so genuine, it made you ache.

“Really. You’re one of the black sheep now, buttercup. Welcome to Hellfire.”

The leather of his Schott jacket squeaked as his arm wrapped around your shoulders, free hand rubbing your deltoid as you instinctively pressed closer to him. You would have never guessed, but Eddie was particularly touchy. It was as if he wanted to be close to you at all times. Even if you pulled away a little bit to readjust, his hand came right back to the same position.

“Come on, let’s introduce you to the rest of the weirdos.” He said, leading you towards the others.

You rode the high of the night. You made new friends in Jeff, Frank, and Gareth, as they were chomping at the bit to get to know the infamous “Dragon Lady” who had doodled a near perfect copy of an obscure Disney character. Frank was in the middle of asking you to design a tattoo for him of Maleficent in her draconic form when Eddie called the session to order.

“So we’re going right into our main campaign for tonight, and I’ll give everyone an opportunity to introduce themselves to our new party cleric…” he looked at you and held out a hand from behind his DM screen.

“Shadowmoon.” You corrected him.

“Ah yes, the ever so cunning and duplicitous Shadowmoon; our very own half-elf Cleric of Shar, the shadowy seductress that is Our Lady of Loss.” His voice took on a low, deadly tone, as if evoking the name of Shadowmoon’s goddess would provoke divine wrath, “Hope you and Shadowmoon can handle a few good curveballs tonight, might be overwhelming… but any girl who can pick Lady Shar as a patron can handle my brand of freak.”

“I’ll work hard.” You nodded.

“Good girl.”

The campaign’s overall atmosphere was a success. You asked genuine questions, feeling comfortable when you noticed Dustin was right. No one had all the answers. The boys still looked at their character sheets and flipped through the handbook if they needed to look up an effect (even Eddie did it a few times when a player question gave him pause).

You got to name the party. Gareth had drawn a rather regal coat of arms for your ragtag group, and because he’d added the silhouette of a game bird that Frank argued looked like a chicken, you began to giggle.

“What’s so funny?” Eddie asked, his serious facade slipping when he saw you smile and show teeth.

“We… it… with that chicken on our coat of arms… We’re the Band of the Cock!” You shrieked.

Immediately there was a cacophony of screams, chaos, laughter, and a few d4’s launched at your spinning, grinning head as you laughed into your hands. Playing with the boys, belonging to a group… it was all so fun!

Eddie laughed at your jokes, even when they fell a little flat. With the group’s combined social awkwardness and typical behaviors, your own tics didn’t even phase them. If you popped your mouth in a certain way, it would set off the person next to you until everyone was doing it. The guys helped you with math if you fucked up adding modifiers, but they did it in a way that didn’t make you feel stupid. Even Eddie helped you look up spell effects if you didn’t know offhand.

Hellfire Club was fucking fun.

And you were having a blast showing off and earning the affection of Eddie the Freak.

You were sorry when the two hours were up, and everyone was packing their things up and heading home for the night.

“Do you need help cleaning up…?” You asked.

Eddie looked up from rolling up his butcher paper map.

“Hmm? Nah, I got it.” He said, shaking his head as he continued, “You did good tonight, you know. Your timing was perfect, you did well managing your spell slots for Healing Word, and you even took Cornell Notes for our party. None of my little misfits even writes down their damn inventory, let alone takes Cornell Notes for the party.”

You shrugged, chewing on a hangnail.

“I just wanted to be of help… to really try.” You said.

“You didn’t just try, you killed it out there! Now I know I can rely on you to mother hen this gang of muppets that makes up our party.”

There was comfortable silence between the two of you. Even though it was late, you were willing to walk home in the dark if it meant you could just be around Eddie for a little while longer.

But something had been nagging the back of your mind… Ever since you had found out that Eddie Munson was DMing this campaign, the memories of the inception of your middle school crush on him had come back in full force.

“Um… Eddie?” You ventured.

“What’s up, buttercup?” He looked up.

“Um… do you… in middle school… do you remember finding a note in your locker…?” You asked softly.

“… I do, yeah.” He said cautiously, “Why do you ask…?”

“Do you… do you remember the poem in it?”

He stopped what he was doing, looked up at you with wide, dark eyes.

“It um… it was about light and stuff, and uh… it didn’t have a name signed on it, but there was a picture on the bottom of a fairy holding a lantern…”

“How the hell do you know about that!?” He asked.

He began to approach you, his chest heaving.

“I never even told anyone about that poem-… Did… did you write that note? Is that how you know about it?” He demanded.

“… yes…” you whispered.

“Why didn’t you sign it?!” He asked.

His face was contorted. A desperate look. As if he was going to cry.

“… because I was scared…” you said.

“Scared of what? Of me?!”

“No…”

Never. You could never be scared of Eddie. He was amazing. He was the definition of cool. You desired him biblically.

“No… I was scared that… that you wouldn’t like me…” you said softly, “I loved your performance at the talent show so much… and I wanted to talk to you after, but then you got sent to Mr. Coleman’s office for playing Exciter. So I wrote the poem for you, and… I didn’t ever find out if you liked it because I was too shy to ask if you’d read it. Then you went on to high school, and I didn’t see you anymore.”

There was silence. Backing away from you, he wiped his mouth, exhaling a deep sigh.

“I can’t believe it…” he said, shaking his head and running his fingers through his shaggy hair, “I thought about that poem for years… First I thought it was someone playing a prank, but it wasn’t mean. It was so… it was earnest, and heartfelt… and you didn’t even sign it.”

He looked back at you.

“How could you think I wouldn’t like you after you wrote something like that for me?” Eddie asked.

“You always stared at every other girl but me.” You said, “And then I heard a rumor you almost left for California with this punk rocker chick during senior year, and I thought… Well, I knew I didn’t stand a chance because I’m not stylish. And when I heard you got held back, and that you’d be in my year, I wanted to talk to you. But… freshman year I tried making friends, and because I fucked that up, all the rumors started and everyone called me a creepy, angry bitch...”

It all in the end came back to Shelley Warab. She had been the first person you’d tried to make friends with. Moderate popularity, middle class, dirty blonde hair, she should have dominated in the halls as the queen bee. But the cheerleaders hated her because she always tried to hang off the arm of the nearest quarterback or point guard, and the cheerleaders happened to already be dating said sportsmen when Shelley tried to get in their pants. Her locker was often decorated with the word “WHORE” written in red Maybelline lipstick.

So Shelley decided to form her own clique if no others would accept her. That included you: a bright eyed freshman from the middle school that everyone overlooked because you never talked to anyone, along with several other girls of varying degrees of loneliness. She ruled over all of you with an iron fist. Trying to mold you all into her own idea of a clique that would make mean girls like Carol Perkins (the main culprit of the Maybelline insults) kowtow to her self-made band of bitches.

One day at lunch forever changed your fate. Shelley decided to go through each girl’s knapsack and dump out the contents on the lunch table, judging her subjects on the personal effects they kept within. A particularly timid friend was being dressed down for balled up gym socks, and you stood up and asked how Shelley would like it if you took her Avon tote bag over to the garbage, tipped it upside down, and dumped every single bit of its contents into the slop created from a mixture of coleslaw and uneaten sloppy joes.

Justice was swift. Carol Perkins overheard your threat and laughed at Shelley for “getting gutted by a freak”. Shelley told you to leave, and the next day at lunch had the audacity to present an honest to god manifesto written in purple pen about how no one at the table wanted you to sit with them anymore, complete with signatures. Carol had of course laughed at you next for this rejection, so you lunged at her and screeched like a pteranodon in her face, ripping up the letter like confetti and dumping it all over Carol and Shelley’s watery cafeteria spaghetti, before turning over their trays in their laps.

It was a chain reaction of outbursts afterwards. Then the Figment Incident happened, making you untouchable, because the students knew your mother wielded her attorney like a sword. Even bullies like Billy Hargrove who didn’t care about any authority figure or law enforcement officer avoided you like the plague because you weren’t afraid to threaten to use your pencil to blind them.

Your rage kept everyone away. The one armor you possessed.

“You think I give a shit about rumors?!”

Eddie once again had you by the shoulders, his grip tight as he almost shook you with rage. His eyes burned with hurt, betrayal…

And… desire?

“Those rumors… that’s all just fucking bullshit!” He snapped, “You’re not a creepy bitch. You’re funny, you’re exciting, and you make all these adorable noises-…”

“… I am angry and bitchy all the time though…”

“Okay maybe a little, but I am too.” Eddie conceded, “But that’s because everything and everyone in this town sucks. But you don’t suck. You’re smart, and sweet, and kind… and… damn it… you’re beautiful.”

He was so close… So indignant, his righteous fury lighting a spark in his eyes that made you lean into him.

“All of that hellfire in you, that anger… god, it makes you a bonafide badass.” Eddie said, pulling you in close to his chest and rocking you side to side.

When you felt his fervent kisses pepper your scalp, you began to cry again. He pulled you in tighter, his kisses trailing down to your forehead, thence to cheeks, thence to capture your lips in a fiery, passionate make out session where he bit your lower lip to slip the tongue. You both pulled away breathless, and he kissed you one more time before pointing a finger right in your face.

“You’re the most metal fucking girl in all of Hawkins High. And anyone who says differently is a goddamn moron.”

[shardechance]

𝖏𝖆𝖜𝖇𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖐𝖊𝖗

ao3 link | playlist | detailed content warnings | masterlist

pairing: feysand rating: explicit wc: 23k warnings: non con

Feyre’s a big fan of scary movies. So much, in fact, that Halloween night spent curled up on the couch and watching Poltergeist while the kids she’s babysitting sleep upstairs doesn’t sound so bad, even if it means missing out on a party or two. It’s a relatively boring night, until a real ghost appears. Rhysand, in the shittiest costume she’s ever seen, picked the wrong house to trick or treat... but scary movies aren’t scary until they’re real.

[FREAK WEEK DAY 1]

read on ao3 or proceed below for small snippet.

The movie is better than Feyre remembers it, which isn’t exactly a surprise. The first time she saw it, her sisters stole dresses from Mom’s room and dressed Feyre up as E.T. so they could stuff her in a closet. They’d instructed her to hide, and after too long spent in the dark, Feyre eventually wandered out on her own. She found her sisters downstairs, seemingly having forgotten their little sister, with the credits already rolling on the TV.

By contrast, the boys let her have her own blanket, and laugh along with her even when they don’t get the joke. They leave the last bit of popcorn for her, and even though it’s hard in the middle and the chocolate’s gone, it tastes good. There’s fifteen minutes left in the movie when Feyre’s phone buzzes in her pocket, and she’s more than a bit disappointed when she gets up to answer it.

“Be right back, boys,” Feyre sighs, flinging the blanket off her lap.

She stands in the foyer, where she can see into the living room to keep an eye on the boys and the movie, and brings the phone up to look at the screen. FaceTime Video. Lucien Vanserra.

“Hey, Lucien,” Feyre says, a bit distracted. What greets her in full and glorious outdated iPhone resolution, is half an opera mask, an open dress shirt, and the smug grin of her best friend.

“Sing, my angel of music!”

Her thumb hits the end call button before Lucien can embarrass himself further.

She doesn’t get the chance to roll her eyes, let alone head back to the boys and their movie. Before she’s even lifted her thumb from the red reject call button, his picture flashes across her screen again. Against her better judgment, her thumb slides across to green.

“Why are you such a bitch?” Lucien asks by way of greeting.

“Mind your manners, potty mouth. Tiny ears present,” she warns, turning her back to the living room as if to shield the kids from his bad language.

He snorts, shooting back something from a red solo cup. “Oh yeah? Fu—”

“Shut up!” She snaps. Her shitty phone speaker is no match for surround sound, so it’s unlikely the boys can hear from the other room, but Feyre doesn’t want to be the reason they learn their first swears. “You look like a loser.”

“What do you mean?” He lifts the mask, revealing his scarred cheek, and half a smirk. Usual golden prosthetic eye switched for a scarlet alternative. “I’m told it plays to my strengths.”

He’s gorgeous. Unfortunately, he is very much aware of that. Scars and all. Chicks dig it, she’s told. Feyre takes the last few steps to the kitchen, dropping a couple of stray candy wrappers in the garbage on her way past.

“What do you want?” she says. “I’m working.”

“Yeah, about that,” Lucien says, his tone dripping with the promise of trouble. “Ditch the kids! Come play!”

And lose the easiest hundred bucks of her life? No way. Yeah, seeing Lucien in his element, chasing the highs of what little nightlife there is to offer, flirting with boys, dancing with girls—

“Negative.” Feyre inspects her cuticles. “This is easy money.”

tag list: @velidewrites @melting-houses-of-gold @popjunkie42 @secret-third-thing @separatist-apologist @the-lonelybarricade @jon-snows-man-bun @iftheshoef1tz

[fandomfluffandfuck]

Things that drive Bucky insane,

Steve's itty bitty waist, his plump lips that buck wants to bite like a strawberry, Steve's inability to shut up while watching TV

Oh, ho, ho, do not tempt Bucky to list the things about Steve that drive him insane sexually and generally because Steve's a little shit because you will be there for literal days if not years.

This is a nonehaustive list that you have begun, and we can add so many things:

Steve's itty bitty, teeny tiny waist that his fingers can't help but dig into while they're fucking doggy style, Bucky pulling Steve back onto his cock at the same time that he shoves as deep into him as possible. He wants Steve to wear a bruised-in corset of his handprints across his waist at all times, healing factor of the serum be damned.

Steve's plump lips that he wants to bite until they're puffy, hot, and glistening wet from the abuse.

Steve's inability to shut the fuck up during TV episodes and movies meaning that Bucky has to have subtitles on so he doesn't miss critical plot points. The only thing already supersized about Steve before the serum was his mouth--the fuckin' loudest mouth in Brooklyn. Bucky hates to love that mouth so much.

Steve's blush. Enough said.

Actually, no, not enough said about Steve's blush. There can never be enough said about that pretty, baby pink to dark, deep red color. Bucky gets unspeakably hot seeing the flushed, burning red shells of his ears when he's fucking Steve from behind. Bucky could watch the way his blush spreads in slow motion for hours, days, weeks--he could watch it on loop if Steve would let him video it. It starts high on his cheeks as blotches of color, spreads over the crooked bridge of his nose, floods his entire face from his hairline down to his cut jaw, leaks down his throat, finds its way to his chest, crests the hills of his tits, surrounding his perky, pink nipples, and fades down to the lower part of his flat, smooth stomach. If Bucky's lucky, he can get Steve to blush so hard, so feverishly hot with embarrassment, that the small of his back gets colored, too.

Steve's whole hobby of running off into alleys to get into fights. No longer getting into it with men three times his size, mostly because that's physically very hard to do these days, yet all the same in principle and ego.

Steve's golden hair fresh from a lay--sticking up in tufts from having Bucky pull at it, hands in his hair, directing Steve's empty-headed, glazed-over stare wherever he wants it or pulling his whole head onto his dick, fucking his fucked-out face. That look makes Bucky feral. The dumb look in his eyes and the dumber look of his gaped-open lips, all his muscles gone slack in his face save for the carved-in depression between his drawn-together eyebrows. Sprawling pleasure.

Not just after they fuck, though, Steve's golden hair when he wakes up in the morning. Ruffled like a baby chick. That look never fails to make Bucky crush him into a full-body hug, cuddle session because he's out of his mind with affection. There's something about all those achingly familiar cowlicks.

Steve's golden hair darkened after a shower, seeping rivers of water that eagerly streak down his squeaky-clean, hot-water-red skin, conforming to every curve and dip of his body. Bucky will never stop wanting to lick every drop of water off of him when he's fresh out of the shower or bath or pool or--you get it.

Steve's body.

Steve's tits. Bucky is a caveman, thinking about Steve's tits. They're ripe and so fucking grabbable, leaving Bucky with no words, just a low, hungry growl in the back of his throat, and if he keeps going on about them, if he keeps thinking about them, he's going to seek out his man like a predator stalking prey. Then, Steve won't be able to peel his teeth off of him for hours, being gnawed at like a bone to a wild dog.

Steve's whole goody-two-shoes, golden-boy act around people who don't know him but know Captain America. It always gets under his skin, frustrating him, making him huffy and wanting to start cracking jokes that would make army boys from back in the day do a dull spit take with how disgustingly dirty they are.

Steve's waist deserves a second mention.

And if his waist gets two mentions, then maybe his ass needs three. He looks ripe there, too, a work of art designed to leave everyone who admires it drooling, full of primal hunger. He's sculpted like a Roman statue. A young God.

Steve's stubbornness, a fucking donkey, an ass, gets a hundred mentions if his waist gets two and his ass has three. Bucky can't believe he volunteers to run after him on the regular.

Jesus wept, Steve's stomach. Bucky wants to kiss his stomach and feel the way it clenches and contracts under his mouth. Reacting so beautifully to the force of overwhelming pleasure, squirming until he's shaking, spasming on Bucky's cock shoved deep inside him.

Those miiiiiiiile long legs. Strong and smooth and carrying him with determination that's dragged them both outta hell.

Those legs drive Bucky insane for another reason, too, not just how shapely they are--that determination. If Steve would learn to walk away from a single fucking fight, Bucky would be saved another lifetimes worth of years in stress alone. Steve's legs always seem to propel him toward danger. Steve's legs, tender and vulnerable, with Steve's penchant for only using his shield to protect his upper half.

Steve's ability to, without fail, misplace his phone and then make them late out the door when they need to leave because he can't find it. He always has to resort to pouting until Bucky calls it, unveiling the fact that it's right where Bucky told him to look but he didn't. Obstinate fuck.

The fat, soft little pillow of his perineum, obscenely cute and pink and oh-so sensitive, between his legs, tucked behind his balls but before his hole. Hidden from prying eyes other than Bucky's. And pry Bucky does--

Steve's cheeks. Bucky has to pull his cheeks apart, spreading him until he squeaks with embarrassment, his cute, tight little hole clenching, winking at Bucky like a hidden treasure between his fat asscheeks. Bucky wants nothing more than to pry that sweet hole open. He wants to lick it, to finger it, to fuck it. He knows he owns it, and that drives him insane. He wants to own it again and again and again. He wants to overpower the serum that knits Steve back up tight after ever fuck and leave him ruined and gaping.

Steve's dick always gets him to that feral intensity, whether Bucky's just looking at it in all its objective beauty--its girthy thickness, its length with that slight curve, its dusky-pink color, its eagerness, twitching, leaking, swelling, its veins, its fat head, all of it--or whether Bucky is feeling it, tasting it, using it, whatever. Anything. Everything. Everything about that dick is insane. Bucky's insane for it.

Steve's balls. Bucky slurps at them and teases Steve when he goes without an orgasm for a day, two, three, or maybe even a whole week when the missions get nasty, for how swollen and full they must feel. He's a fucking spiller. He overflows with cum when he orgasms. It's the hottest shit.

Steve's feet, even. The handsome, high arches of his feet, the skin surprisingly soft like a baby's. Sweet and vulnerable. Bucky can't help but want to dig his thumb into the soles of his feet to make Steve moan with relaxation, reflexively kicking his leg out like he has since he was a kid. Foot rubs that turn into tickle fights are totally worth the accidental kicks to his chin that Bucky suffers.

Steve's never present survival instincts. Bucky will always be a little angry after he pulls a stunt where his self-sacrificial bullshit is on display. It doesn't matter if it's a grenade, a lacking parachute, or whatever else, it always drives Bucky up the fucking wall. Goddamnit, Rogers.

Steve's seeming need to crawl out of his own skin with an orgasm--arching his back, shaking from head to toe, screaming through his teeth or gasping in a silent, open-mouthed scream, clawing at Bucky or at anything within his reach, acting like it's bigger than him. Bigger and enough to give Bucky an ego, fueling his fire, making him want to do it again and again and again until there is no way Steve can keep going, so he collapses. Crumbled. Overwhelmed.

To cut this short, shorter than the hours, days, weeks, months, years long list Bucky has for each bit of Steve that makes him turn into a mad man: everything. It's everything about Steve. The man's too much.

I blacked out and wrote this. I was just moving some asks around, saving them as drafts, and, uh, got carried away, I guess, lol. I hope you enjoyed 😘

[worldstarz]

shinjiro defends your honor against stupei

pairing: shinjiro aragaki x fem!reader (sees member)

summary: your leader wants to show you a video of the stone-cold shinjiro aragaki getting into a debate with junpei over ranking the girls. he gets very passionate over you.

tags: kinda shitpost ; feat. junpei + protag ; not proofread ; spoiler-free ; mutual pining

notes: just got to october 4th! wrote this to cope! i am not okay! also protag is called leader bc im not looking up his name to avoid spoilers. i’ll edit when i finish the game !!

———

“so if you press this button, the footage should start playing,” the leader points to the console, directing you on how to play the recordings. other than for meetings and before missions, you’ve never been in the command room before. hell, you didn’t even know there were cameras in the building until now.

the specific recording your leader wanted to show you is labeled ‘september 23 - lounge’. as you press the play button, the lights of the command room dim down as the video begins to play on the screen.

———

as expected, the recording shows the first floor lounge. shinjiro and junpei sit on the same couch, but at different ends.

“so, aragaki-senpai, what’s your ranking of all the girls in the building?” junpei leans back, hands behind his head. there is a considerable amount of distance between them, both physically and interpersonally, and junpei decided talking about the ladies is the best way to bridge that distance.

“why would i care?” shinjiro scoffs, his crossed arms not helping the already-tense air.

“oh, come on! with so many beautiful ladies here, you’ve gotta have a ranking by now! like, who’d you rather be alone in a room with? or see in a bikini?” junpei begins listing off the girls in an attempt to convince shinjiro to dig deep into his thoughts and desires. “there’s kirijo-senpai, with that air of elegance and maturity; yuka-tan, a pretty chick very popular among guys our age; fuuka, an all-around cutie; [name], who is… hm…” he didn’t even reach aigis before running out of adjectives. trying to think over his very limited dictionary, he briefly hesitates.

shinjiro visibly perks up upon hearing the last name listed. noticing this, junpei exaggerates his struggle to think.

“hm… what is there about [name]…” junpei rubs his chin, staring at his senpai as his face morphs from an expression of indifference to one of annoyance.

“you’re kidding me, right?” aragaki scowls, sitting up slightly. “you seriously can’t think of anything for [name]?”

“well, she’s just… eh…” junpei trails off. “i wouldn’t rank her very high.”

“i know you’re a moron, but i didn’t know you could be this much of a dumbass,” he leans forward. without even raising his voice, the simple action caused an air of intimidation around him that could be felt even through the screen. “the hell do you mean ‘you wouldn’t rank her very high’? are you fucking blind?”

“nonono, man, she’s attractive-“ junpei frantically tries to explain himself, backtracking on his original plan of getting a reaction out of shinjiro because finding out his senpai’s type was not worth getting his ass beat. but, aragaki continues.

“don’t tell me you’d rank her lower than a goddamn robot!” this was possibly the most passionate he’s ever been, and it was over a casual conversation of ranking the girls in their dormitory building. “she better be in at LEAST your top three or i’m mopping the floors with your ass.”

“no, dude, she’s in my top three, i swear!” junpei’s attempts at damage control were getting more desperate. “she’s probably number one!”

“…number one?” aragaki repeats, as the two sit in a heavy silence for a moment. “you don’t deserve to have her in your number one spot,” he mutters.

“…what?”

“i SAID you don’t DESERVE to have her in your number one spot!!”

“OKAY THEN SHE’S NUMBER TWO!!!” junpei raises his hands up in an act of surrender. “she’s second! [name] is second!”

———

“…”

unable to listen to anymore, you hurriedly hit the pause button. you feel hot, and as the lights turn back on, you make a futile attempt to cover your burning face with your hands.

your leader clears his throat. “so, should i set you two up on a date, or-“

“no!” you exclaim, cutting him off with a wide-eyed expression on your face. “no! no.” you calm yourself down with a deep breath, trying not to imitate junpei’s desperation shown in the video. trying to collect yourself, you add, “that won’t be necessary. shinjiro didn’t even say his own ranking, so all of that probably could have meant nothing. absolutely nothing. right.”

“i mean, if you finish watching-“

once again burying your face into your hands, you yell into your palms to cut him off. a typical response from a teenage girl finding out her crush laid his pride on the line to advocate for her attractiveness.

the leader, ignoring your wishes, presses the play button.

———

“where would you put [name] then?” junpei asks, his signature shit-eating grin on his face. the video seems to have skipped ahead, as evidenced by junpei being much more calm than earlier.

shinjiro hesitates.

the quality is a bit fuzzy, but you can see junpei having a perplexed expression as he leans in to get a better look at shinjiro’s face, who turns his head away.

“are you…” junpei squints, then his eyes widen in surprise. “are you blushing??”

“the hell? no way i am!” shinjiro turns his body away.

“oh man, you should’ve just said you like her!” junpei grins, trying to be a supportive bro!

“i-i don’t even think of her like that! just lay it off!”

“so, what about her, huh?” his excitement shows in his voice. “she’s pretty cute and all. oh, those eyes are gorgeous-“

“i said lay it off!” shinjiro exclaims, and junpei jumps.

“ok man, ok! that’s my bad!” junpei backs up, and the awkward silence returns once more. without saying a word, shinjiro gets up and leaves.

———

at this point, you’ve sat down. the leader turns around to look at you, your face buried into a pillow. your ears are practically glowing red.

“my offer earlier about setting you two up still stands-“ he begins, but as you did before, you cut him off.

“shut up!!!!” you scream into the pillow, kicking your feet. you lift your face from the pillow to meet his gaze.

he can’t help but laugh. “should i get yukari? she probably knows more.”

admitting defeat, you nod.

[mooredanxieties]

It takes one to know one

Article: The FBI isn't just hunting psychopaths, they're head-hunting them too, offering competitive pay and benefits in the hopes of using one demented mind to catch another. Sure, we're familiar with the stereotype of the FBI profiler, swaggering onto a crime scene, fitting the pieces together like a master puzzler with his 1000-piece jigsaw. In reality, these profilers should be likened to harridans reading a cup of spent tealeaves- passing off their active imagination as incisive fact.

Fact Check: Drunk Iowa Driver's Alcohol Level Was Nearly Eight Times Legal Limit Article: Florida Woman Busted For DUI Tells Cop, "This Is What I Get For being a bridesmaid" Press Pass: South Carolina Man Attacked Grandmother Over Bizarre Chick Salad Mix-Up Press Pass: Open Gown, A Universal Hospital Indignity, Leads To Indiana Man's [unreadable]

Another Shrike In the Nest?

by Frederica Lounds

As reported before by Tattlecrime, the FBI maintains jurisdiction in the case of Garret Jacob Hobbs, the Minnesota Shrike. But as days turn to weeks, desperation has begun to take hold amongst the investigators. An embarrassing truth is beginning to emerge: There are no new leads on the whereabouts of the Shrike's seven missing victims. As families await any word at all about their lost daughters, the case looks as though it has stalled. Tip lines are open, but they have so far yielded little to nothing. Where lie these poor women who deserve a proper funeral? When approached for comment on the investigation, things with Graham took a surprising and dark turn. Upset at the probity of the questions at hand, Graham threatened, "It's not very smart to piss of a guy who thinks about killing people for a living." A statement like this calls into question the very mind and method of Will Graham and his FBI apologists. This is a man who skirted normal FBI... Read More

It Takes One To Catch One?

PHOTO EXLUSIVE - INSIDE THE LEEDS HOME

Exclusive photos of house where the Jacobi family was slaughtered.

The Jacobi home nestled in a sleepy suburb of Chicago that was startled awake by the shocking murder that has changed the area forever. Residents that have lived in the area for almost twenty years have said that they will now consider moving. See the disturbing exclusive photos inside.

Insane Fiend Consulted in Mass Murders by Agent He Tried To Kill

by Freddie Lounds

FEDERAL MANHUNTERS, stymied in their search for the Tooth Fairy, have turned to the most savage killer in captivity for help. Hannibal the Cannibal has gotten a call from a very special visitor- none other than Will Graham himself. I saw it with my own eyes, Graham coming form the main entrance to the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane on a recent afternoon. This mysterious visit had this reporter curious to its nature. What could Graham, who was almost a victim of Lecter himself, have to discuss with the Mad Doctor? A bit more digging lead me to face to face discussion with Will Graham. Needless to say he was evasive. But I was able to suss out that Graham has begun working for the FBI again on the Tooth Fairy investigation. And he was in fact visiting Lecter to help him get information on the Tooth Fairy murders. Is this really where to FBI has sunk? Hiring a man with questionable stability to get information form a clinically insane psychotic? If this is where the FBI has been able to take this investigation, this reporter is worried. Worried for the family left behind by the Leeds and Jacobi murders. And worried for the next family on whatever deranged list the Tooth Fairy has made. For surely there will be a next family. There have been three so far the the Tooth Fairy shows no sign of stopping. And frankly- what's to stop him? Certainly no local police agencies. Certainly no the FBI who have done nothing to further the investigations since they took over several months ago.

CANNIBAL KILLER FEEDS THE FEDS

[alt] FBI IN BED WITH THE DEVIL

[alt] TOOTH FAIRY INVESTIGATION BUNGLED BY FEDS?

Desperation Leads to Partnership with Cannibalistic Killer The recent apparent partnership between the FBI and Hannibal Lecter has this reporter wondering if there is anyone with whom the FBI won't partner. One wonders the validity of whatever information can be gleaned from someone who is so clinically insane as to devour those around him. How much can Lecter be trusted not to give misleading information to protect perhaps a fraternity of killers with whom he would most definitely be a member. And what does Lecter get from all this? Special privileges? Or maybe just the excitement of getting inside information on the violent nature of the Tooth Fairy crimes. This would no doubt a source of great pleasure for someone so diabolical in nature. I wonder how this makes the families of the victims feel. To know that Hannibal the Cannibal is drooling over the bloody remains of the lost loved ones. Is whatever little information can be provided by this this 'expert' killer worth making the victim's families continue to suffer?

[justauthoring]

and i wonder... who? [2]

somehow, you find yourself torn between the two hottest guys at your school and you have no idea who to choose. loosely based off of operation: true love where geto is eunhyeuk and gojo is dohwa :)

a/n: eeee i finally posted the next part :)) thank you for your guys' patience! im almost done the semester too, so expected more stuff soon!

pairing: geto suguru x f!reader, gojo satoru x f!reader

tag list: @username23345 @anxious-chick @novacaneformybrain @mandysfanfics @rottmntrulesall @voiceofnoreturn @rh-tg1 @ky0mybeloved let me know if you'd like to be added! please make sure your settings allow you to be tagged!

you can find the masterlist here!

“Shit—"

“What?”

“Y/N texted me.”

Mei Mei scoffs; “who cares?”

“I said I’d meet her after she was done cleaning duty,” Sukuna grounds out, pushing himself back so that Mei Mei can slip off the desk and onto her feet. “She texted me five minutes ago.”

There’s a brief pause, before; “you think she saw?”

“Nah,” Sukuna shrugs, “she would’ve come barging in. She’s annoying like that.”

“Hah,” Mei Mei laughs, loud and obnoxious. “I don’t know why you’re even dating her if you find her annoying.”

“She’s consistent,” Sukuna shrugs. “I know she won’t leave. Besides, she’ll do anything I ask if I just give her a little bit of attention.”

“Whatever you say.”

“I’ll text her and reschedule but we should leave,” Sukuna rushes out, the distant sound of feet shuffling and thumps echoing across the otherwise silent hallway. “Quick. Before she sees.”

“Thought you just said she wouldn’t care,” Mei Mei points out.

“Still.” Sukuna offers simply, shaking his head as he ushers her forward.

Mei Mei giggles, glancing at him sultry over her shoulder, “wanna see a movie?”

“...Sure.”

Geto watches as you stand there, listening to every cruel thing the both of them spit out. Their words echo, loud, the both of them completely oblivious to the two pairs of ears listening. But Geto keeps his eyes trained on you, standing before him, curled into yourself. Your hands are clutching your arms, nails digging into the skin, and Geto frowns. 

You don’t move, you don’t say anything—your head is dipped down, your hair covering some of your face so that Geto can’t see you clearly. 

But—but he sees the way your shoulders shake.

Two pairs of footsteps echo across the hallway, growing quieter and quieter as both Mei Mei and Sukuna slip away.

Both of you stand there, frozen.

It isn’t until a minute of silence passes that you move.

Your head lifts and Geto meets your eyes briefly as you offer him a small, bleak smile before turning and walking off. Your steps are quiet but you’re quick, as if desperate to get away.

Geto wants to say something but he doesn’t. He stands there, watching as you grow further and further away until your back disappears around a corner.

And he can’t help but think—you weren’t pathetic. Sukuna was.

-

Your door slams shut behind you, barely paying any attention to your parents who'd watched you come rushing in and had called out for you in concern. You hear their voices trail after you, your mother follows you as she tries to get you to stop.

You don’t. 

You don’t stop until you collapse onto your bed, pathetic and pitifully, tears streaming down your cheeks, trying to hide yourself. Trying to make your bed swallow you whole and allow you to hide yourself from everyone and everything. Geto who’d witnessed one of the most humiliating moments of your life, Sukuna who’d cheated on you, Mei Mei who’s always hated you, your parents…

You didn’t want to talk to them and face the inevitable embarrassment of having to explain why you were crying.

And the worst part was you weren’t even surprised.

Sukuna barely paid attention to you as it was—practically bullying you, letting his friends tease and make fun of you, not caring when you were hurt or injured or upset or jealous or—so what was stopping him from adding a cherry to the top of it all and cheating on you?

Nothing, clearly.

How stupid were you to fool yourself otherwise? To think despite the way he’d been treating you for the past few months, that somehow, in the midst of it all, he was being loyal? 

That he wasn’t kissing and making out with someone else entirely behind your back?

You just couldn’t get that image out of your head.

You’d seen it for approximately five seconds before Geto's hand raised to cover your view and yet, it was long enough to haunt your thoughts .

You think even a second would’ve been enough.

Your heart panged and your chest hurt and yet, it felt like this was something you’d been waiting for. You’d known your relationship with Sukuna had been dying anyways, if his actions weren’t telling enough (which they certainly were).

You guessed what hurt the most was that once it had felt like Sukuna really had loved you.

Because, at the beginning, he really had… hadn’t he?

-

“You’re so cute.”

“Ryoumen,” you whisper, cheeks warming as he smiles brightly down at you, all tooth and cheek.

“It’s true,” he shrugs, as if the words were obvious. “You are. You’re adorable.”

And your heart races at his words, feeling yourself elated at such a simple compliment. It makes your heart soar and your whole body feel like it’s on fire. His voice is charming as he speaks and he smiles down at you, eyes dark and lidded and intoxicating in a way you’ve never quite experienced before.

He makes your whole body tingle and your stomach flutter with butterflies.

And he barely does anything.

“Thank you…”

-

“Here, you’ve got something—“

You freeze as his fingers brush against your cheek, soft and gentle as a tingle travels up your spine at the touch. Your eyes are stuck solely on him, watching as he leans forward, a soft grin on his face as his eyes flicker from the edge of your lips to your eyes.

The icecream that you’d missed on the corner of your lips is swiped up by his fingers and placed in his own mouth.

Your face heats up, burning hot as he smirks at you.

“There,” he says once he’s done, hands falling to his side as he leans back with suave.

You can’t help but let your eyes drift across him, taking him in as your heart hammers against your chest. 

Everything about him was so—

Hot.

“Thank you,” you whisper, touching the spot he had, as if in a daze.

-

His hand reaches out before you, halting your movements with a blink before he grabs the handle of the door for you. Your eyes meet his as he opens the door, stepping back to give you room as he lets you step in first.

You smile at the action, biting your lip.

- 

His fingers thread through yours. Warm and gentle, despite how rough his skin is. His hands are large enough to envelope your hands completely, fingers pressing against your knuckles firmly as you stare ahead of yourself, giddy at the action.

-

His hands brush across your cheek, tucking hair back and behind your cheek, shivers running through you.

-

His arm feels strong around your waist, a feeling of safety coursing through you as he tucks you into his side.

-

His lips are soft, pressing against yours as he tugs you flush against his chest, dominating the kiss in every way that has your legs feeling like jelly beneath you. You’d collapse right then and there if he wasn’t holding you.

But you don’t care.

You just want to lose yourself in him.

-

“Yeah,” you whisper to yourself, hugging your pillow tightly against yourself as you sniffle. “He did love me once.”

Those moments weren’t fake. You knew they weren’t.

They couldn’t be.

And then thought occurs to you before you can stop yourself;

Maybe he will again.��

-

You’re walking to class the next morning when Geto sees you next.

He’s a few steps behind you and you’re alone, walking with your arm wrapped around yourself and eyes trained on your feet.

It’s instinctive. His feet move to quicken their pace and he moves to catch up with you, then—

“Hey, babe!”

A heavy figure flanks itself around you, arm wrapping around your shoulder, causing you to stumble from the sudden weight. Geto watches as your feet work quickly beneath you to catch your balance, watching as Sukuna is oblivious to it all, simply grinning as reaches out and ruffles the top of your head, messing up your hair.

“You didn’t text me back last night,” he hears Sukuna call out, smirking down at you. “Was worried something happened.”

Geto’s too far away to hear your response, your words mumbled, but he sees the look of discomfort that crosses your face as you curl into yourself.

Sukuna doesn’t let you pull away though.

It pisses him off, he realizes. The way Sukuna acts as if nothing was wrong. But of course, for him, nothing was wrong. He was blissfully unaware of you knowing about him cheating on you.

Still, it’s maddening.

It’s infuriating.

Geto acts before thinking.

You’re just about to enter the classroom when he calls for you.

“Y/L/N.”

Both you and Sukuna pause at the sound of his voice, the smirk on Sukuna’s fades as his eyes briefly meet his before Geto focuses his attention on you. His face distinctively softens as he regards the shocked look on your face staring up at him.

“The principle was calling for you,” he explains, blatantly lying and yet, the facade never wavers as he gestures back the way you came. “Said it was urgent.”

Your brows furrow, confusing flickering; “I—“

“We shouldn’t leave her waiting.”

You pause, lips left parted as your eyes dart from Geto to Sukuna, who stares back at Geto, ignoring your gaze, with a nasty glare. Geto effortlessly ignores it.

“O-Oh, okay,” you mumble and finally Sukuna pulls his grasp off of you as you shuffle back. You move to step forward, before pausing when Geto takes a step with you.

You meet his eyes.

“I’ll walk you.”

Sukuna grunts from beside him, “I’m sure Y/N can manage on her own.”

Geto merely shrugs at him.

Sukuna wavers when Geto doesn’t back down, staring back at him, as if daring him to argue further. His eyes narrow, glancing at you briefly before scoffing, spinning around to head into class.

“Whatever.”

You watch him with a hurt expression and Geto is quick to distract you.

“Come on,” he calls over his shoulder, heading back the way you came in.

You rush to follow him, and Geto hears a small squeak of panic leave your lips as you have to practically run to catch up with his long strides. A moment later though you’re next to him, silence surrounds you both as you make the short walk to the principal's office.

Geto stops right outside of it, though.

“Geto?”

He glances at the office, before shifting to face you. Might as well be honest. “The principal didn’t call for you.”

He hears you sputter, eyes widening; “w-what? But—!”

Geto turns to look at you, head dipping down as his expression softens considerably. “You looked like you wanted to get away.”

And his words make you stop. The panic fades as your eyes widen up at him, shoulders falling. Geto watches as the realization sinks in, registering through your mind as your lips part.

“Sorry,” he suddenly calls, feeling a little embarrassed now that the truth was out.

He’d done all of it without thinking, if he was being honest. It had happened before he realized he’d said any of the words and by then it was too late to back out—at least, too late without looking like a fool.

But now with you staring up at him like that, with this shine in your eyes and not an ounce of anger—despite his apology—and rather appreciation… Well, quite frankly, he feels embarrassed.

Turning his head away, Geto covers his face.

“No, no—!” You call out, stammering over your words once again as your hands shake wildly before you. “No, I—uh? Um… thank you? Thank you. That’s… no one’s really ever cared about the way I’ve felt before, I guess.”

Geto pauses at that, eyes snapping back to you and he watches as you shrink under the heat of his gaze.

“I-I mean… besides, like Shoko and my parents, I guess but—“

You halt when you realize you’re rambling.

And for the first time, Geto smiles at you. A chuckle bursts itself past his lips and he feels his eyes crinkle with warmth as he shakes his head.

Instantly, you frown at him; “don’t laugh at me!”

He waves you off; “sorry, sorry. It’s just… you ramble a lot.”

He watches as you cross your arms over your chest, pouting up at him. “I do it when I’m nervous.”

Nodding, Geto smiles down at you.

Then, your eyes widen; “wait! If you were lying then…we’re gonna be late!”

You turn, panicking, to run back to class but Geto is quicker, reaching forward and taking your arm in his hand, halting your movements. He feels you freeze under his touch, muscles tensing, as your head slowly turns to glance back at him.

“We still have time,” he assures with ease. “You’re early.”

“I always am.”

Geto nods. “I know.”

And oddly, he finds himself pleased when he sees your face burn red

“We-Well, you’re usually early too.”

He nods again. “Yes.”

You promptly turn your head up and away, Geto smirks at the sight.

Then his face falters, remembering the way your body had been shaking.

“You should break up with him.”

And slowly, you turn to face him again. 

“He was kissing another girl,” Geto says to your shocked face. “Not to mention, you heard what he said.”

Your face twists into an expression of discomfort, eyes falling to the ground as Geto slowly lets go of you.

“Y/N,” he calls, noting the way you freeze at the use of your first name. “I’m serious.”

“I know, okay?” You burst out, voice pitching loud enough that students walking by glance towards you both, glaring. Geto ignores them. “But… but it’s not that easy.”

Geto’s brows furrow. “Why? He cheated on you.”

“Because—!” And you turn to him, eyes blazed but Geto just frowns when that fire quickly dies and you glance at your feet. “What if nobody else wants me?”

Geto barely hears it and when your words finally do register in his mind, you’re turning away from him.

“Just forget it,” you huff. “I’m going to class.”

Geto’s eyes widen, and he steps forward; “Y/N!”

“Why do you even care?” You cry, a few steps away from him. Geto pauses, hand left hovering before him at the sight of your tears, eyes watering as your bottom lip trembles.

“Don’t you hate me?”

And then you’re walking off before he can say anything else.

-

You're walking with a blurred vision, not paying attention to where you are as you hastily wipe at your cheeks.

Asshole, you hiss in your mind.

Who did he even think he was? Telling you to break up with your boyfriend ? Wasn’t he the one glaring at you just yesterday and for every day before then?

Wasn’t he the one telling you how pathetic he thought you were every day just with his eyes since you started dating Sukuna?

Didn’t he hate you?

And now? Now he was concerned? Now he wanted to be nice and a friend and try to help you?

“Screw him,” you whisper, it being a half sob that breaks past your lips. “He doesn’t know anything. He’s just as bad as—ugh!” 

You’re crashing to the ground before you even realize it, a loud huff leaving your lips as your bum hits the ground hard. Pain ricochets through your body, eyes squinting shut in pain before you slowly flicker them open, hands sprawled beside you to balance yourself, only to see a brilliant blue staring back at you.

“What—?”

“Watch where you’re going.”

Excuse me—

You blink, confused and dazed before you realize just who those brilliant blue eyes belong to.

Gojo Satoru.

One of, if not the most, popular guys at school.

He was known for his good looks and charm. He was tall, just slightly shorter than Geto, standing at six foot three, with white hair that had an almost purple shine to it. As mentioned before, he had bright, beautiful eyes that almost felt as if they were staring into your very soul.

All this tied together, he was very attractive.

One problem?

Apparently, he wasn’t as charming as people said.

He’s moving to step past you and you slowly push yourself up to your feet, eyes narrowed; “hey—! You bumped into me.”

That makes him pause.

Back turned to you, he glanced over his shoulder at you. 

You suddenly feel self conscious. His eyes really did make you feel like they were staring into your soul, as if he could see everything. He doesn’t say anything, and instead lets his eyes drag across your figure, flickering down, then up again, before he smirks.

“Pretty sure that was you, sweet cheeks.”

Your lips part at the nickname, appalled. 

He’s walking off before you can say anything else, not bothering another glance back at you as you stand there, miffed and in absolute disbelief.

How dare—

“Y/N!”

A new voice hisses at you and your head turns, finding Shoko staring at you through the doorway to the classroom.

You stare at her and she shakes her head.

“What’re you doing?” She asks, brows furrowed in confusion and your eyes drift past her, realizing everyone is in the class already, staring at you. “Why are you just standing in the hallway?”

You move to say something but then a shadow falls in front of you. Your lips parent when you realize it’s Geto who chances a small glance down at you before slipping into the class past Shoko.

She glances at him briefly before reaching forward, tugging you forward.

Tucking you into her side, Shoko frowns; “what’s going on with you? You didn’t respond to me at all last night and you’re usually early to class as well, but instead I find you out in the hall looking crazy.”

She’s falling into her seat in front of you as you take your seat, glaring at her—you're not crazy.

“Sorry,” you mumble though, after a moment (because it was true you'd ignore all her texts last night), glancing behind you instinctively only to see both Geto and Sukuna looking at you.

You instantly look back ahead.

“I—uh, bumped into Gojo outside.”

Shoko’s eyes narrow. “That pretty boy?” She all but scoffs, rolling her eyes as she flips her hair back. “What’d that asshole want?”

You shrug, “I bumped into him when I was coming back from—uh, the… the washroom.” You ignore the look of confusion on Shoko’s face when you stumble. “He knocked me to the ground and then wanted me to apologize.”

Shoko huffs; “typical” she shakes her head. “He’s such an ass. I was in his class last year and got partnered with him for a project. It was the worst! He made me do everything.”

That makes you laugh, despite everything. Then again, you always felt the most at ease with Shoko.

“You?” You tease, pointing a finger at her. “It’s hard to believe you’d ever do work.”

She shrugs. “I needed the marks.”

You laugh, falling silent as she continues to chat your ear off, just as you feel a buzz in your pocket.

Frowning, you pull your phone out. Who could be texting you now?

hey sweet cheeks ;)

[swarvey]

paper rings | harvey x f!reader

Harvey returns to his friends for more advice; you overhear an interesting conversation.

a/n: a.k.a., you two are unbelievably oblivious to each other.

btw, please lmk if you'd like to be added to the tag list for this fic!

ch. 2 | ch. 3 | ch. 4

paper rings masterlist

chapter three: how you get the girl -> "remind her how it used to be."

Elliott nodded slowly after listening to Harvey's recap of his meeting with you. The doctor had called both Shane and Elliott for a "quick meeting" at his apartment as soon as he left your farm — though, Shane, unsurprisingly, did not pick up, so he sent him a quick text to come by when he had time.

"So, what do you see as my plan of action?" Harvey asked, fidgeting with his hands. "Should I be . . . direct with her?"

Elliott hummed. “Well, you’ll have to be more than direct, my friend,” he decided, a thoughtful glint lighting his eyes. “It’s been years since you’ve seen her, yes?”

“Yes, I haven’t seen her since she graduated college.” The singular sentence itself saddened Harvey, deflating in his seat. “I’m a horrible friend, aren’t I?”

“Precisely!” Elliott exclaimed, only making his guilt worsen. “After such a prolonged period of time away from each other, does it feel fitting to simply tell her your feelings? No,” he said, before Harvey could put together an answer. “The time you two spend together now is imperative — you must spoil her, cherish her, show her how much you care before you tell her.” 

Suddenly, three knocks sounded throughout the apartment, and Harvey quickly stood to answer it. He opened the door to reveal Shane, a six-pack of beers in hand.

“I was asleep,” he explained bluntly, walking in and taking off his shoes, “but after I heard Marnie going on about the new farmer, I figured we’d need these.” He lifted the drinks, walking over to Elliott before setting them down on the table. “Anyway, I could hear your spiel the entire way up the stairs, pretty boy,” he huffed to his friend, already starting to open three cans. “Can’t say you’re too far off from what I was thinking, which is a first.”

Harvey returned to his seat, gladly taking the beer offered to him. “So, you agree?”

“Pretty much.” 

“My point stands,” Elliott said proudly, taking a victorious sip of his drink. “Now is not the time to rush your sprouting relationship  — good things come with time, as they say.” Shane grunted in agreement, visibly displeased that he was on the same page as him.

Harvey fidgeted with the tab on the can, brows furrowed in thought. “I should get her gifts, then? Or buy her meals?”

“That may prove to be too much,” Elliott replied, shaking his head. “The last thing you want to do is scare her away, friend.”

“Don’t be a kiss ass,” Shane summarized.

The doctor pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. “This is helpless — what am I supposed to do, then?”

“Talk to her,” his friends said in unison, though one sounded much more exasperated than the other.

“Recall the past,” Elliott continued, leaning forward. “The good, the bad; the exhilarating, the mundane, remind her of it all! Then, after remembering the wonderful times the two of you had, she will realize what she has been missing all along has been right in front of her.”

Harvey laughed lightly at the thought. “I doubt she’ll think that,” he sighed. “It’s been so long since we’ve spent time together, not to mention I have no idea if she’s seeing anyone or not.”

“And what if she is?” Shane asked, perking a brow. “I mean, honestly, is the world gonna end? You’ll live, bud, believe me — there are plenty of chicks who dig doctors.”

“I guess you don’t understand,” Harvey replied, shaking his head and staring down at the table. “She’s really been the only one I’ve truly seen myself being with.”

“Bull,” his friend replied, leaning forward in his seat. “You went to college in Zuzu City, didn’t you? No way you didn’t find any girls over there.”

“That’s beside the point.”

“So you didn’t date anyone? ”

“Did I not just say that isn’t the point here?” Harvey looked up to meet Shane’s smirk. “No matter who I’ve seen in the past, no matter who I see from this point forward, my mind has and always will return to her. It’s like I’m drawn to her, like my body gravitates toward her, it doesn’t make sense.”

“My bad, doc,” Shane apologized amusedly. “Didn’t realize you were such a sap.”

“With the right person,” Elliott started, smiling knowingly, “anyone can be a romantic, dear friend. That, I can guarantee.”

Groaning, Harvey leaned forward and let his head drop in his arms, remaining still as his friend comfortingly patted his back.

What have I gotten myself into?

-

You hummed absentmindedly as you walked back into the heart of Pelican Town, the sun finally starting to feel a little warmer on your skin as it steadily rose. You were amazed at how colorful and lively everything looked — the strikingly blue birds, the merrily pink flowers, and even the townsfolk seemed to be blossoming in the spring. You eyed the clinic as you walked past it, noting the makeshift ‘Closed’ sign taped to the door, smiling slightly at the thought of Harvey closing it just for your arrival.

As you made your way into Pierre’s General Store to look at what’s in stock, you were immediately greeted by Pierre himself, his face lighting up as you stepped through the door.

“Hey, it's the new farmer! I'm Pierre, owner of the local general store,” he introduced, meeting you in the middle of the store to shake your hand firmly. “Though, if you rack your brain a bit, you might remember seeing me from time to time as a kid.”

Mouth agape, you scanned the storeowner up and down before exclaiming, “It’s you! Your girlfriend had short green hair, didn’t she?”

“I guess it was shorter back then, so yes! Once girlfriend, now wife, of course,” he corrected, arms crossed proudly as you quietly applauded him. “Glad to see you back in town. Now, I’m sure you know a great deal more about farming than I do, but I do know that my stuff is the best in town.”

And really the only stuff in town, you wanted to say, though you kept your mouth shut. “Good to know,” you replied instead, starting to slowly make your way around the store. “Oh, wow, these are just beautiful! I didn’t know you sold flowers, too.”

You stopped in front of a stand near the register filled with bouquets. The colors ranged wildly, some being a simple white while others flaunted a flash of red. All of them, though, were equally stunning, not to mention they smelled amazing. You immediately thought of Harvey helping you move in, how he had even been willing to close his beloved clinic for a day to set aside time for you.

“How much are these?” you asked, pointing towards the flower stand.

Pierre’s eyes widened slightly as he glanced between your finger and the flowers. “The bouquets?” he clarified. “You’re wondering about the price of a bouquet?”

Confused, you tiled your head. “Yes. Why, are they expensive? I just thought it would be nice to get Harvey a thank-you gift for this morning—”

“Ah, I see!” Pierre exclaimed, cutting you off and laughing loudly. “You know, I typically don’t do this — and don’t expect any more special deals — but I’ll give you one for half off.”

“Thanks, I guess,” you said, mumbling the latter half of your response as you half expected to get one for free. Still, you picked a bouquet with a good mix of all the colors and handed a few coins to Pierre. “Could you point me towards Harvey’s house?”

“Oh, he lives above the clinic,” Pierre replied, quickly counting the coins in his palm before dropping them in the register. He looked up at you with an odd smile, as if he knew something you didn’t. “There’s a door all the way at the back that leads up to his apartment.”

“Thanks. I’ll see you soon, Pierre!” With that, you left the store happily. You were slightly worried Harvey might have locked the clinic’s door, but after tugging it open, you wasted no time finding the door Pierre had told you about.

As you walked up, though, an all too familiar voice made you stop mid-step.

“I guess you don’t understand,” you heard Harvey say. “She’s really been the only one I’ve truly seen myself being with.”

She?

“Bull,” another voice said. “You went to college in Zuzu City, didn’t you? No way you didn’t find any girls over there.”

“That’s beside the point.”

“So you didn’t date anyone? ”

“Did I not just say that isn’t the point here?” You couldn’t say you weren’t stunned. You’d never heard Harvey sound so peeved. “No matter who I’ve seen in the past, no matter who I see from this point forward, my mind has and always will return to her. It’s like I’m drawn to her, like my body gravitates toward her, it doesn’t make sense.”

“My bad, doc. Didn’t realize you were such a sap.”

“With the right person, anyone can be a romantic, dear friend. That, I can guarantee,” a third voice chimed in.

You were shocked. No, more than shocked — in complete, utter disbelief. Harvey? Feeling that way for a girl? You huffed in annoyance, crossing your arms and looking up at the door. For a moment, you were angry your childhood friend hadn’t mentioned anything about this girl of his, but you could hardly blame him. Why would he, after the two of you stopped keeping up with each other regularly? 

You quietly made your way back down the stairs, trying your hardest not to slam the door. As you started to head back to your farm, you ran into the green-haired woman you recognized as Pierre’s wife.

“Oh, hello!” she said happily, smiling brightly at you. “You must be the new farmer! I remember when you were this tall, you know.” She put a hand on her hip, and you smiled as normally as you possibly could back to her.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you replied, desperately wanting to go home. Before you could make your escape, Caroline gasped, looking directly at the bundle of flowers in your hand. Shit.

“My, a bouquet already? Who—”

“They’re for me!” you quickly explained, cursing yourself as you felt your cheeks begin to warm. “I, uh, needed some decoration for my house, and I thought these would do!”

She nodded slowly. “Of course.” Caroline touched your arm lightly before walking towards the store. “Let me know if you need any help settling in, okay? We live right at the back of the store!”

You yelled a quick thanks and practically bolted to the path toward your house, swearing under your breath. Your heart beat heavily in your chest as Harvey’s words kept ringing in your head, for some reason making you more flustered than you normally get.

It’s like I’m drawn to her, like my body gravitates toward her, it doesn’t make sense.

If something didn’t make sense to Harvey, you knew it had to be bad. As you finally opened the door to your home, you collapsed on your bed, bouquet falling beside you. After a few moments, you sat up abruptly, scowling at yourself. Why’d you care so much anyway? You laughed humorlessly at yourself. Honestly, who knew the thought of him having a crush would be that bewildering? He was a grown man, after all, feelings like that were normal. Perfectly normal.

That night, you hung the flowers upside down beside the wall on your bed, hoping they’d dry nicely and make their beauty last.

[izzythehutt]

I think it's hilarious that Rhett Butler is the model for every subsequent alpha male romance hero, because he's actually one of literature's most desperate simps. Rhett is only saved from the appearance of simp-hood because the woman he's simping for has the emotional intelligence of a potato.

Evidence!!!

Pays $150 (equivalent to $5.5k in today money) in gold to dance with object of affection he knows hates him. Implied he shells out more gold for subsequent dances. This is 1860s equivalent of OnlyFans subscriber behavior.

Stays in a dangerous war-zone purely to save object of affection/simp-hood from invading army in the hopes of a gratitude hookup. Risked life to steal a horse for her, only to get one brief make-out, a slap on the face and a death wish as reward.

Risks getting arrested by returning to city where he's just to see the chick who when he last saw her said she hoped a cannon ball fell on top of him. Upon seeing her is so desperate he nearly proposes marriage despite her clear gold-digging motives.

Only saved by sight of her need money gold-digging work hands, then is a sulky bitch about almost being honey-trapped. Can't resist asking if there are other backup men his goddess is about to con in place of him and even gives advice on how to trick them more effectively. PEAK SIMPING. Laughs it off two weeks later while also rushing to give her the money anyway!

Drives object of affection/simp-hood to and from dangerous job while she is married to/pregnant by another man!!! This is Richard Nixon driving Pat to and from dates with other men behavior!!!

Proposes marriage to object of simp-hood on day of her last husband's funeral, threatens to sing outside her window if she doesn't say yes. Bullies her into a yes, despite her pointing out she doesn't love him and is mostly agreeing to have access to his money.

Tries to play it cool but then passive-aggressively points out that she should at least pretend she loves him and, you know, say the words or whatever. Makes extremely pathetic joke about how "some wives falling in love with their husbands." RHETT. STWAP.

Tries to play the whole marriage proposal off like it's FWB/FB situation, as if he hasn't had a massive obvious crush on her for six years and doesn't have financial interest in a brothel and plenty of access to other women that he's not offering marriage to.

Builds her a tacky McMansion and enables all her worst tendencies of taste in the vain hope that NOW she'll love him.

When she's caught "cheating" on him finally gets so drunk that he can admit his own self-loathing at his simpitude and the weight of it breaks him free into true alpha status. Only saved from marital rape accusation by the fact that it's the one time his wife actually enjoys sex, probably because he's not simping for once!!! You should have tried this years ago Rhett!!!

Can't resist listing off his entire history of simping even when he's leaving her.

[domreader-headcannon-scenarios]

Kinktober day 3: Naga: Leviathan (slight pred/prey, handjob) ((continuation of this!)

-

You hadn’t returned back to the town after your ‘successful’ hunt. You didn’t even bother trying to claim the reward, you didn’t have a body so it would be hard to anyway. It had only been maybe a few months to a year since then and you moved on to ‘hunt’ in a different region.

You didn’t want to run the risk of running into Leviathan, even if he seemed timid you didn’t want to slip up and let your guard down only to be gutted by him. Naga are strong and realistically, he’d probably bite you and then suffocate you or just…let you succor to the venom.

The amount of naga you’ve hunted since then have gone down and you have gotten to the point of debating if you wished to quit. You enjoyed the conversation and ‘company’ Levi had given you so it did sort of spur your thoughts…

Your ‘helper’ had said there was a pretty naga, not best in size but its scales would catch a high enough price that you wouldn’t have to do this again. You had him help you dig up a trap and place it, though once you had it set up you dismissed him and secured the vines.

You could feel something watching you, so you quickly hop up and climb up the nearest tree. Flashes of purple scales slip through the grounds below you before a familiar looking face comes into your view. “(M/c?)” He asked quietly, looking up and spotting you quickly. “Ah-there you are!”

He’s careful to avoid the trap, he curls around the base of the tree. “Haven’t seen you in a bit, I’m surprised to see you here. What are you-“ You almost fall back as he suddenly springs up and levels with you, his tail curled around a few branches to support him as he makes his way to seat himself beside you. “I…didn’t know naga could climb trees.”

He laughed in response, to your relief he didn’t seem interested in hurting you…he definitely remembers you though, you feel his tail secure itself around you, holding you against the base of the tree. His grip was gentle and just enough to prevent you from falling.

“Y-yeah, it’s pretty common to learn it while young. H-how have you been? D…do you remember me?” You nod and a see a look of relief spread across his face. “I was w-worried you’d forgotten me. D-do you mind…if I stay with you for a bit?”

You sit up, with a nod you feel his tail loosing around you. “You seem…clingy. Oh, do you perhaps want to continue where we ‘left off’?” You see him excitedly nod. You lean forwards and feel him double over to meet you. You were surprised to have him press his face against you in an attempted kiss.

You reach down, feeling just below his stomach. Once you feel the slit you gently press against it, rubbing gently until his cocks spilled out. You take one in each hand, earning a hiss from Levi. “H-hold on maybe we wait till-till we are out of the tree?”

You feel him trying to loosen his tail around you, only for you to release his cocks and earn a weak whine. “Well, we are safe here, right? You won’t drop me, will you?” Levi paused and quickly nodded. His tail held you carefully once again.

“Y-yes! I will p-protect you!” You laughed at his response but don’t press. You lean down enough to blow on his bigger cock. To your amusement it jumps in response and he mewls. “A-ahh, wait how do I-what do humans like? W-what do I do to make it up to y-you?”

With a click of your tongue you shrug and tell him not to worry about it. “It’s fine, I never helped you finish the first time, let’s make this my ‘sorry’, ok?” He purrs in response, excitedly bowing his head to try to give you another kiss.

-

Tagging list: @anxious-chick

[nerdgirljen]

Just throwing these out there, but here are some country songs I think would make amazing song fics for Tyler Owens that I plan to write:

Sounds Like Home by Blue County

Lasso by The Band Perry

You Shouldn’t (Kiss Me Like This) by Toby Keith

Boot Scootin’ Boogie by Brooks and Dunn

Gone by Montgomery Gentry

Slow Me Down by the Willis Clan

Chicks Dig It by Chris Cagle

Why Don’t We Get Drunk and Screw by Jimmy Buffett

Chattahoochie by Alan Jackson

She Thinks My Tractor’s Sexy by Kenny Chesney

Heads Carolina, Tails California by Jo Dee Messina

I Wanna Do It All by Terri Clark

Now That I’ve Found You by Terri Clark

And that’s just the country songs I’ve picked. My alternative list is quite extensive and will remain secret (for now), but you can bet your ass Crazy Train by Ozzy Osborne is going to be on there. (Same with Thunderstruck from AC/DC and Thunder by Boys Like Girls.)