#i can hear which one is getting up to shit so i know whose name to yell lol

[orcelito]

I got Cassy a tag (finally) to match Tally's. He hates me now

Hatred and war on planet earth

[wifelinkmtg]

TUMBLR POST EDITOR WON'T LET ME TITLE THIS POST ANYMORE SO I GUESS THIS IS THE TITLE NOW. WEBBED SITE INNIT

So let's say you grew up in the nineties and that The Lion King was an important movie to you. Let's say that the character of Scar - snarling, ambitious, condescending, effeminate Scar - stirred feelings in you which you had no words for as a child. And then let's say, many years later, you're talking about it with a college friend, and you say something like, "oh man, I think Scar was some sort of gay awakening for me," and she fixes you with this level stare and says, "Scar was a fascist. What's the matter with you?"

The immediate feeling is not unlike missing a step: hang on, what's happening, what did I miss? You knew there were goose-stepping hyenas in "Be Prepared," but you didn't think it mattered that much. He's the bad guy, after all, and the movie's just pointing it out. Your friend says it's more than that: the visuals of the song are directly referencing the Nuremberg rallies. They're practically an homage to Riefenstahl. This was your sexual awakening? Is this why you're so into peaked caps and leather, then? Subliminal nazi kink, perhaps?

And then one of your other friends cuts in. "Hold up," he says, "let's think about what Scar actually did in the movie. He organized a group of racialized outcasts and led them against a predatory monarchy. Why are you so keen to defend their hereditary rule? Scar's the good guy here." The conversation immediately descends into a verbal slap fight about who the real bad guy is, whether Scar's regime was actually responsible for the ecological devastation of the Pride Lands, whether the hyenas actually count as "racialized" because James Earl Jones voiced Mufasa after all. Your Catholic friend starts saying some strange and frankly concerning shit about Natural Law. Someone brings The Lion King 2 into it. You leave the conversation feeling a little bit lost and a little bit anxious. What were we even talking about?

INTRODUCING: THE DITCH

There is a way of reading texts which I'm afraid is pervasive, which has as its most classical expression the smug obsession with trivia and minutiae you find in a certain vein of comic book fan. "Who was the first Green Lantern? What was his weakness? Do you even know the Green Lantern Oath?" It eschews the subjective in favor of definitively knowable fact. You can't argue with this guy that, say, Alan Scott shouldn't really count as the first Green Lantern because his whole deal is so radically different from the Hal Jordan/John Stewart/Guy Gardner Corps-era Lanterns, because this guy will simply say "but he's called Green Lantern. Says so right on the cover. Checkmate." This approach to reading a text is fundamentally 1) emotionally detached (there's a reason the joke goes, oh you like X band? name three of their songs - and not, which of their songs means the most to you? which of them came into your life at exactly the right moment to tell you exactly what you needed to hear just then?) and 2) defensive. It's a stance that is designed not to lose arguments. It says so right on the cover. Checkmate.

And then you get the guys who are like "well obviously Bruce Wayne could do far more as a billionaire to solve societal problems by using his tremendous wealth to address systemic issues instead of dressing up as a bat and punching mental patients in the head," and these guys have half a point but they're basically in the same ditch butting heads with the "well, actually" guys, and can we not simply extricate ourselves from the ditch entirely?

So, okay, let's return to our initial example. Scar is portrayed using Nazi iconography - the goose-stepping, the monumentality, the Nuremberg Lichtdom. He is also flamboyant and effete. He unifies and leads a group of downtrodden exiles to overthrow an absolute monarch. He's also a self-serving despot on whose rule Heaven Itself turns its back. You can't reconcile these things from within the ditch - or if you can, the attempt is likely to be ad-hoc supposition and duct tape.

Instead, let's ask ourselves what perspective The Lion King is coming from. What does it say is true about the world? What are its precepts, its axioms?

There is a natural hierarchical order to the world. This is just and righteous and the way of things, and attempts to overthrow this order will be punished severely by the world itself.

Fascism is what happens when evil men attempt to usurp this natural order with the aid of a group or groups of people who refuse to accept their place in the order.

There exists an alternative to defending and adhering to one's place in the natural order - it consists only of selfish spineless apathy.

Manliness is an essential quality of a just ruler. Unmanliness renders a person unfit for rule, and often resentful and dangerous as well.

And isn't that interesting, laid out like that? It renders the entire argument about the movie irrelevant (except for whatever your Catholic friend was on about, since his understanding of the world seems to line up with the above precepts weirdly well.) It's meaningless to argue about whether Scar was a secret hero or a fascist, when the movie doesn't understand fascism and has a damn-near alien view of what good and evil are.

There's always gonna be someone who, having read this far, wants to reply, "so, what? The Lion King is a bad movie and the people who made it were homophobes and also American monarchists, somehow? And anyone who likes it is also some sort of gay-bashing crypto-authoritarian?" To which I have to reply, man, c'mon, get out of the ditch. You're no good to anyone in there. Take my hand. I'm going to pull on three. One... two...

SO PHYREXIA [PAUSE FOR APPLAUSE, GROANS]

We're talking about everyone's favorite ichor-drooling surgery monsters again because there was a bit in my ~*~seminal~*~ essay Transformation, Horror, Eros, Phyrexia which seemed to give a number of readers quite a bit of trouble: namely, the idea that while Phyrexia is textually fascist, their aesthetic is incompatible with real-world fascism, and further, that this aesthetic incompatibility in some way outweighs the ways in which they act like a fascist nation in terms of how we think of them. I'll take responsibility here: I don't think that point is at all clear or well-argued in that essay. What I was trying to articulate was that the text of Magic: the Gathering very much wants Phyrexia to be supremely evil and dangerous fascists, because that makes for effective antagonists, but in the process of constructing that, it's accidentally encoded a whole bunch of fascinating presuppositions that end up working at cross-purposes with its apparent aim. That's... not that much clearer, is it? Hmm. Why don't I just show you what I mean?

Atraxa, Grand Unifier (art by Marta Nael)

In "Beneath Eyes Unblinking," one of the March of the Machine stories by K. Arsenault Rivera, there's a fascinating and I think revealing passage in which Atraxa (big-deal Phyrexianized angel and Elesh Norn's lieutenant) has a run-in with an art museum in New Capenna. The first thing I want to talk about is that, in this passage, Atraxa has no understanding of the concept of "beauty". A great deal of space in such a rushed storyline is devoted to her trying to puzzle out what beauty means and interrogating the minds of her recently-compleated Capennan aesthetes to try and understand it. In the end, she is unable to conceive of beauty except as "wrongness," as anathema.

So my first question is, why doesn't Atraxa have any idea of beauty? This is nonsense, right? We could point to a previous story, "A Garden of Flesh," by Lora Gray, in which Elesh Norn explicitly thinks in terms of beauty, but that's a little bit ditchbound, isn't it? The better argument is to simply look at Phyrexian bodies, at the Phyrexian landscape, all of which looks the way it does on purpose, all of which has been shaped in accordance with the very real aesthetic preferences of Phyrexians. How you could look at the Fair Basilica and not understand that Phyrexians most definitely have an idea of beauty, even if you personally disagree with it, is baffling. This is a lot like the canonical assertion that Phyrexians lack souls, which is both contradicted elsewhere in canon and essentially meaningless, given Magic's unwillingness or inability to articulate what a soul is in its setting, and as with this, it seems the goal is simply to dehumanize Phyrexians, to render them alien, even at the cost of incoherence or internal contradiction.

Atraxa's progress through the museum is fascinating. It evokes the 1937 Nazi exhibit on "degenerate art" in Munich, but not at all cleanly. The first exhibit, which is of representational art, she angrily destroys for being too individualistic (a point of dissonance with the European fascist movements of the 20th century, which formed in direct antagonism to communism.) The second exhibit, filled with abstract paintings and sculptures, she destroys even more angrily for having no conceivable use (this is much more in line with the Nazi idea of "degenerate art", so well done there.) The third exhibit is filled with war trophies and reconstructions from a failed Phyrexian invasion of Capenna many years prior, which she is angriest of all with (and fair enough, I suppose.) But then, after she's done completely trashing the place, she spots a number of angel statues on the cathedral across the plaza, and she goes apeshit. In a fugue of white-hot rage, she pulverizes the angel heads, and here is where I have to ask my second question:

Why angels? If you are trying to invoke fascist attitudes toward art, big statues of angels are precisely the wrong thing for your fascist analogues to hate. Fascists love monumental, heroic representations of superhuman perfection. It's practically their whole aesthetic deal. I understand that we're foreshadowing the imminent defeat of Phyrexia at the hands of legions of angels and a multiversal proliferation of angel juice, but that just leads to the exact same question: why angels? To the best of my knowledge, the Phyrexian weakness to New Capennan angel juice is something invented for this storyline. They have, after all, been happily compleating angels since 1997. We could talk about the in-universe justification for why Halo specifically is so potent, but I don't remember what that justification is, and also don't care. Let's not jump back in the ditch, please. The point is, someone decided that this time, Phyrexia would be defeated by an angelic host, and what does that mean? What is the text trying to say? What are its precepts and axioms?

Let me ask you a question: how many physically disabled angels are there in Magic: the Gathering? How about transsexual angels? How many angels are there, on all of the cards that have ever been printed for Magic: the Gathering, that are even just a bit ugly? Do you get it yet? Or do you need me to spell it out for you?

SPELLING IT OUT FOR YOU

There is a kind of body which is bad. It is bad because it has been significantly altered from its natural state, and it is bad because it is repellent to our aesthetic sensibilities.

The bad kind of body is contagious. It spreads through contact. Sometimes people we love are infected, and then they become the bad kind of body too.

There is a kind of body which is good. It is good because it is pleasing to our aesthetic sensibilities, and it is good because it is unaltered from its (super)natural state.

A happy ending is when all the good bodies destroy or drive into hiding all of the bad bodies. A happy ending is when the bad bodies of the people we love are forcibly returned to being the good kind of body.

Do you get it now?

ENDNOTES

It's worth noting that the ditch is very similar to the white American Evangelical hermeneutics of "the Bible says it. I believe it. That settles it," the defensive chapter-and-verse-or-it-didn't-happen approach to reading a text, what Fred Clark of slacktivist calls "concordance-ism". I don't think that's accidental. We stand underneath centuries of people reading the Bible very poorly - how could that not affect how we read things today? We are participants in history whether we like it or not.

I sincerely hope I haven't come across as condescending in this essay. Close reading is legitimately difficult! They teach college courses on this stuff! And while it is frustrating to have my close readings interrogated by people who... aren't doing that, like. I do get it. I find myself back in the ditch all the time. This stuff is hard. It is also, sorry, crucial if you intend to say something about a text that's worth saying.

I also hope I've communicated clearly here. Magic story is sufficiently incoherent that trying to develop a thesis about it often feels like trying to nail jello to the wall. If anyone has questions, please ask them! And thank you for reading. Next time, we'll probably do the new Eldraine set.

[rafeandonlyrafe]

finding freedom

words: 4.2k

warnings: emotion abuse (not from rafe), potential physical abuse (again not from rafe), friends to lovers, brief violence, brief mention of fatphobia/readers body size, soft!rafe (but he still punches someone bc rafe is gonna rafe)

“can we please just not do this today?” you sigh, smoothing your hand down your freshly straightened hair, needing every strand to be set in place for midsummers tonight.

“i’m not doing anything, can you not be a bitch?” scott groans, fixing his tie in the mirror.

you sigh just quietly enough for scott not to hear. the start of your relationship was perfect. he never called you names or hurt you’re feelings, but that changed quickly, and now you’re numb to his insults. you love has faded into nothing, feeling like you’re more of a glorified maid than an actual girlfriend.

“i just don’t want any problems at midsummers tonight.” you say. “the whole town will be there.” at least everyone in the town whose approval you care about.

“i won’t start any problems if you don’t.” scott says, walking out of your shared bedroom. you never should have agreed to move in with him so quickly, but you were getting tired of your parents overbearing nature, only for them to leave for florida permanently a month after you moved out, giving you no other option on where to live.

you check your teeth for lipstick in the mirror once more before following him out.

you ride to the country club in silence, scott staring at the road ahead while you gaze out the window, eyes turning glassy as you slip out of focus like you have more and more lately.

you arrive at the celebration, knowing scott won’t open the door for you. he hasn’t in weeks. you step out, adjusting your dress that had ridden up from being sat down in scotts sports car.

you walk side by side with scott, instead of hand in hand. you wonder if people even know that you’re a couple. if they would ever suspect it when you certainly don’t act like it.

“what do you want to drink?” scott asks, already eyeing the bar.

“i don’t want anything.” you say, hoping that will stop scott from drinking too early as well, but instead he walks away, leaving you alone.

“hey.” a familiar voice purrs out as you turn around quickly.

“rafe!” a smile spreads across your face as you see one of your oldest friends. he quickly wraps you in a tight but still appropriate hug.

“no scott?” rafe asks, looking around hopefully.

“he’s um… already at the bar.” you laugh gently, feeling the awkward tension rise already. scott loves to have you all to himself, which caused you to lose touch with a lot of your friends, even rafe who you used to see at least every other day.

“already.” rafe hums out, words stinging.

“yeah, i should probably catch up with him…” you trail off, walking away leaving rafe looking at you with evident disappointment. 

you find scott amongst the crowd, but don’t bother making your way towards him as you spy kelce and his sister sat at a table in the corner.

“hey!” you smile and take the open seat.

“girl, its been so long! where have you been?” kelces little sister asks. 

“uh-” you’re about to make something up, when thankfully kelce saves you.

“oh shit, i love this song!” he hops up from his seat, chair clattering against the sun bleached hardwood. “dance with me, y/n?”

“yeah, sure.” you take kelces hand, happy that you seem to have slipped back into your natural rhythm as you dance, his hand high up on your waist to avoid any cries of indecency by the other attendees.

you dance with kelce through a couple songs before being passed off to one of his friends you don’t know very well, but you’re happy all the say, laughing as the crowd of younger folk grows as the songs shift more modern.

“y/n, can i have your next dance?” rafe asks, scooping you away from your current partner with ease.

“of course.” you feel your cheeks blushing unwillingly from the way he holds you close to his chest.

“babe, lets go home.” scott suddenly appears next to you.

you take an obvious step away from rafe, putting distance between your bodies for both of your sakes. “i’m not ready yet.” you say, attempting to keep your voice soft.

“well i am. so come on.” scott grabs your forearm, pulling you away.

you manage to look back at rafe as you get dragged towards the door. “sorry.” you mouth, hoping he doesn’t rush after you and cause a scene, even though you can see the anger on his features.

scott finally lets go when you’re out the door as you follow him across the parking lot towards his obnoxious bright yellow sportscar.

“give me the keys.” you say.

“i can drive.” scott says, waving you off.

“you are drunk!” “i said i can drive, woman!” scott shouts at you, ripping open the drivers side door and depositing himself in front of the wheel.

“then im not going with you!” you yell.

“fine, stay here for all i care!” scott slams the door shut and doesn’t even glance back at you as he backs out of the spot, wheels squealing as he leaves the parking lot.

“fuck.” you curse, heading back towards the country club. you make it to the front step before you even realize that you’re crying, tears escaping down your face. you quickly brush them away, hoping kelce or maybe topper or sarah can give you a ride home.

you take a minute to calm yourself before stepping back in, the atmosphere so different to how you feel inside.

you see rafe stood in front of the window to your right, clearly watching everything that went down in the parking lot.

“rafe-”

“are you okay?” he questions, head tipping forward, staring at you with intense eyes.

“i-” you clear your throat, holding back the tears as you force a smile on your face. “of course im okay.”

“i see the way he treats you. its wrong.” 

“we’re fine.” you shake your head, voice as loud as you can make it without cracking, yet still a whisper.

“do you want to spend the night at tanneyhill? the guest bedroom is open for you always.”

“i-i guess that would be fine.” you shrug. “just cause hes drunk. he… he isn’t drunk often.” its a bold faced lie, yet you still tell it, covering for your boyfriend and dampening the anger still sketched across rafes brow.

“mhm.” rafe leads you back outside. he doesn’t talk to you for the ride back to tanneyhill, but it doesn’t feel the same as the oppressive silence that fills the car whenever you’re with scott.

“thank you. i’ll leave in the morning.” 

rafe just nods.

--

you sit on the edge of your bed, staring at scott. “well?” “well what?” he questions, throwing his hands in the air.

“you really don’t know what today is?” 

“no, and you won’t tell me!”

“forget it.” you push yourself off the bed. “i’m taking the jeep.” you call out, not bothering to tell him where you’re going.

you’re not even sure at first as you drive around before you ultimately decide to drive towards the tennis courts. you have none of your equipment, but you can at least sit in the stands and watch others play as a way to pass the time.

“what are you doing here on your birthday?” 

you let out a squeal in shock, almost closing the door on yourself. “rafe! you scared the shit out of me!” “sorry.” he holds his hands up, wide smile on his face. “but seriously, you’re playing tennis on your birthday?”

“scott forgot.” you blurt out. “so… i was just kinda driving around aimlessly.” you shrug.

“well, let me take you out then birthday girl. lunch?” you realize after rafes suggestion how hungry you are and nod quickly.

rafe takes you out to your favorite restaurant, immediately telling the waitress it’s your birthday and you’ll be having dessert first, making you giggle and roll your eyes as an ice cream sundae is brought out for you to share.

“hey.” rafe says, bringing you back to the tennis courts to pick up your car now that the sun has set, having spent the entire day together. “i got you a present.”

“really?” you gasp. “rafe, you didn’t have to!” 

“you’re my friend, its no problem.” he shrugs, reaching into the backseat and handing you a thin wrapped box.

“oh my god, thank you.” you reach across the center console, pulling him into a hug before ripping into the colorful paper, eyes widening when you realize what you were just gifted.

“absolutely not, its too much!” you lift up the beautiful gold bracelet, stone embellishments inlaid into the pattern.

“come on, you deserve something beautiful today. let me help you put it on.” rafe doesn’t give you any time to argue, taking the bracelet and slipping it around your wrist, fingers gently touching your skin as he clips it.

“i-i seriously can’t thank you enough.”

“all i want in return is for you to be happy.” rafe says, looping your fingers together. 

you squeeze them back, holding back your tears as you mutter a goodbye, promising to call rafe soon before heading back home to scott. any time you feel upset on the ride back, you just look at your gift and think of rafe.

“you still don’t know?” you call as you enter the house.

“it’s your birthday.” scott appears from the living room, handing you a gift bag.

“are you serious?” you follow him deeper into the house as he flops back onto the couch, eyes on the television.

“i got you a gift, what more do you want?” scott groans.

you can’t help but laugh, a mean, bitter laugh as you look into the bag. “you’ve got to be kidding me.” it’s an eyeshadow palette with a $2.99 sticker on it. you don’t care about the cost of gifts, but this is clearly something he just picked up from the dollar store with zero thought.

“its makeup. you like girly shit.” scott shrugs.

“yeah, thanks.” you say sarcastically, throwing the bag onto the coffee table as you stomp away. you hear scott following you, and you almost make it into your room before his hand wraps around your wrist, tugging you back towards him.

“what the fuck is your problem?” he shouts.

you want to yell back, want to scream in his face and let go of all your rage, but as his hold tightens on your wrist, you don’t dare to speak up.

“i tried to get you something you liked.” he reasons.

“i know.” by some sick standards, he did.

“i can give you something else you like.” scott guides your hand to his crotch, placing it there before you snatch your hand back.

“i’ve got a headache.”

“of course you do.” scott rolls his eyes, walking back down the stairs without another word.

--

“you could have at least asked me before you agreed to dinner.” scott says, changing out of his sweatpants into an old pair of jeans.

“you don’t have to come.” you shrug, adding the bracelet rafe gifted you last, your favorite accessory to every outfit, no matter how casual. “its just gonna be rafe, topper and kelce.”

“of course im coming. you think im going to let you go out to eat with three men without your boyfriend?” “do you not trust me?” you raise an eyebrow.

scott just shrugs, and leaves his answer at that, grabbing his car keys as you follow behind.

you’re the last one to arrive, a small apologetic smile on your face as the boys see scott following right behind.

the waitress comes to get everyones drink orders now that the party is complete. you order a lemonade, with scott getting himself a beer, as usual. you notice rafe gets just a cold glass of water, his eyes meeting yours from his spot across the table.

“alright, what can i get yall to eat?” the waitress pulls out a notepad and pen.

everyone orders for themselves until it gets to scott. “ill have the stake, medium well. she will have a side salad.”

you furrow your brow, you never talked about wanting a salad beforehand. “um, actually i’ll have the chicken parm.”

the waitress glances between the two of you before nodding and scurrying away.

“god, you’re getting so fat.” scott says under his breath, yet you still clearly hear.

you wait a few minutes, attempting to listen to whatever sport kelce and topper are going on and on about, when the urge to cry becomes too overwhelming and you have to excuse yourself, walking towards the bathroom before slipping outside.

you are leaned up against the exterior of the building, chest rising and falling as you attempt to control all the feelings you have building inside of you.

“why don’t you say anything to him?” 

“god, rafe.” you place your hand on your chest. “you’ve got to stop sneaking up on me like that.”

“i heard what he says. i see the way he treats you, and i can’t just sit back and watch that happen.”

“what am i supposed to do?” you look up at rafe in desperation.

“break up with him.” he says simply.

“we live together. i-i have no place to go. this is a small island, and we have mutual friends. i can’t just walk away and never see him again.

“so how long are you going to put up with it? because i am seconds away from smashing his face in.” rafes fist clenches in anger, like hes visualizing punching scott this very moment.

“i… i’ll do it today. at home so i can get my stuff then i’ll go to a hotel-”

“tanneyhill. you’ll come to tanneyhill. i told you, the guest bedroom is always open for you.”

“thank you, rafe.” you wrap your arms around him in a tight hug, allowing the minutes to stretch by as he holds you.

“lets get you inside, yeah?” 

you nod, allowing rafe to lead you back into the restaurant. scott has a suspicious look in his eye but stays silent.

--

“we need to talk when we get home.” you say, scotts foot pushed down on the accelerator as he speeds home.

“what is there to talk about?” he questions.

“just some things i want to get off my chest.” you leave it at that, returning to the silence you’ve come to know well.

you can barely wait until you’re through the door before the words spurt out. “i want to break up.”

scott stands there with a blank expression, causing you to doubt whether you actually verbally said anything. 

“i want to break up.” you repeat.

“no.” scott says, face flushing with anger.

“what do you mean no?” you question.

“is this because i called you fat? well, im sorry for that. i just think you could lose a little weight.” scott throws his hands up in the air like he’s the victim.

“i just can’t take this anymore. i’m not happy. you’re not happy. why are we torturing ourselves?” “you’re not leaving.” scott takes a step closer to you. “i won’t allow you to fucking leave.”

“scott, please.” you shake your head.

“you’re mine!” he yells, bursting forward to grab your shoulders, pushing you against the wall as you let out a shriek.

your eyes closed, accepting that this is the time. this is when you will be hit. you just hope it doesn’t break anything as you wait for your fate, but it never comes.

your eyes open to see rafe burst through the door, immediately accessing the situation and shoving scott away from you.

“what the fuck!” he shouts, charging towards rafe, but it's no use as rafes fist rises and meets his nose, knocking him onto the ground and out cold.

“are you okay?” rafe wraps you in his arms as your body crumbles, holding you up like your weight is nothing as you sob.

“i-thank you.”

“i’ve got you. come on, lets go get your stuff. im taking you to tanneyhill.”

you nod, in a haze as you gather up your belongings, leaving behind anything that can be left as you get just the essentials, rafe helping you carry them out, even as you step around scotts still body, lying on the floor. you check to make sure his chest is rising and falling, and then don’t look at him again.

--

“ive never seen you so happy.” sarah laughs as you flit around the kitchen, making the biggest breakfast you can for the entire cameron family. eggs prepared in every way, toast, waffles, pancakes, anything and everything. it’s really all for rafe, your savior.

“what is there to be upset about?” you shrug. “i’m single!”

“and youre spending lots of time with rafe again.” she eyes you up and down as your hand shakes slightly pouring a glass of orange juice for wheezie.

“shut up.” you whisper, but the smile doesn’t drop from your face, especially as rafe enters the room. you transformed in the night, the shackles of scotts emotional abuse finally falling away, allowing your true self to reappear.

“im taking you out to dinner tonight, y/n.” rafe says, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“you haven’t even had breakfast yet and you’re already thinking about dinner?” you laugh, shoving a plate full of his favorites into his hands.

“to celebrate.” he shrugs. “maybe i’ll convince top to throw a party.”

“ugh, i really don’t want to be around drunk people.” you admit. you want to celebrate, but preferably without alcohol at least for a month. rafe just nods, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before taking a seat at the island next to sarah.

“after you’re done eating, you can help me look for an apartment or a condo.” you tell rafe. “maybe i could ask ward about-”

“you know you don’t need to be in a rush to leave, right?” rafe interrupts you.

“yeah, but i don’t want to take advantage.” you shrug.

“you’re not.” rafe says, that serious, intense look back in his eye.

“okay.” you nod, soft smile on your face as he takes a bite of his waffle. you turn back to the stove as the timer goes off.

“oh, and maybe we could look for some place to move in together.” you glance back at rafe as he speaks, not caring that your bacon is getting crispier and crispier. “probably time for me to leave the nest anyways… and there’s no one i’d rather live with than you.”

--

“gosh, y/n, you can talk about something else.” rafe laughs as you launch into another discussion about what kind of house or condo you could move into together, what features you’re looking for and renovations you want to avoid.

“i’m excited!” you whine, taking another bite of your food.

“its cute.” rafe says, making you almost choke as you take a quick sip of your water.

“i just really can’t wait to live together. it’ll be so refreshing after…” you don’t need to say his name, not so soon after. 

“of course.” he nods. “do you want dessert?” rafe asks, seeing the waitress walking over.

“maybe we could split a hot fudge cake?” 

“here’s another water, sir.” she winks at rafe, handing him another glass even though his is not even half empty. “and can i get you anything for dessert?” she leans down, feigning to be reaching into her apron for her notepad, but is clearly just showing off her chest.

“one hot fudge cake, two spoons.” rafe barely pays attention to her as she scribbles it down and walks away disappointed.

“well, she’s bold.” you huff, glaring at her back until she rounds a corner.

“jealous?” rafe smirks, making your eyes widen.

“i never said that!”

“mhm.” rafe takes a sip of his new water. “don’t worry, you’re cute when you’re jealous too.”

--

“really, thanks for this topper.” you smile, accepting his hand as you step onto his family yacht, taking you and a couple friends, of course including rafe, out for a day on the water.

“just happy to have my friend back.” he says. you feel so lucky to have such amazing people surrounding you, supporting you after your breakup and not holding the way you treated them while in your relationship against you.

you take a seat next to rafe as topper begins to pull the boat away from the dock, allowing your eyes to close and head to rest against rafes shoulder as you feel the sun warm your skin.

you lay like that until topper navigates the yacht into deeper waters for everyone to jump off and swim. you hang back for a moment, watching everyone throw in floating pads or inner tubes as you smile, feeling more relaxed than you have in months.

“ready?” rafe asks.

“oh, yeah.” you pull off your coverup and jump into the water, laughing when you come up as rafe cannonballs right next to you.

you spend the next couple of hours in the water, only getting out to dive right back in. you swim around with rafe, but manage to break away from his attention to talk to your other friends for a bit as well.

your stomach rumbles as topper calls for lunch, having packed sandwiches into the fridge in the yachts kitchen before you left. you sit on your towel on the deck, rafe bringing you back a sandwich and bag of chips as everyone begins to talk.

you watch happily, content to sit back and just be in the moment. you tense up slightly when topper brings out a cooler of drinks, relaxing only slightly when you realize it’s only enough for everyone to have one or two beers or white claws and no one will be getting plastered.

“wanna head back in the water?” rafe asks when you're finished.

“actually…” you look at one of your friends screaming as kelce scoops her up and jumps into the water with her in his arms. “wanna go lay on the sundeck?” “yeah.” rafe follows you away from the crowd until you reach the large white cushions and spread yourself over them, arching your back and stretching.

rafe sprawls out next to you, but turns himself to the side so he can look at you.

“i like you, y/n.” he says.

“i-” its so sudden, so forward, yet so rafe.

“you don’t have to say anything back. but you should know, especially if we are buying a place together.” you nod slowly, taking in his words. “i like you. and i want to kiss you.”

you just nod, a smile spreading across your cheeks as rafe moves closer, placing his hand on your cheek as he leans down, lips pressing against yours.

you’re elated for a moment, until your nose catches the smell of alcohol and you freeze, realizing there’s still the sticky sweet taste on his lips as you’re suddenly transported back to feeling what it’s like kissing scott.

you pull away suddenly.

“i’m… shit. i’m sorry.” rafe stands quickly before you can even process.

“wait!” you call out, legs feeling like jelly yet you force them to work, standing as you rush after rafe, but by the time you reach the main deck, hes taken off on one of toppers jetskis, heading towards home.

“what happened?” topper asks, seeing the tears in your eyes.

“we-we kissed and-” you let out a sob. “i got a flashback of scott because of the beer smell and i pulled away and-” another sob racks through your body. “he thought i was rejecting him but… i love him topper! i need to go and find him and tell him and-” “calm down, okay? you can’t do anything in this state.” topper places his hands on your shoulders, moving you to sit in a chair.

“everyone back on the boat!” he yells, his tone unusually authoritative as everyone scrambles to get the floaties back into the boat.

the yacht moves faster than you thought possible as topper races back, knowing how important this is to you, and to rafe. he’s not going to let his friends miss out on true love just because of a misunderstood trauma response.

thanks to the slow jetski, you reach the dock only a minute after rafe. you’re off the boat and running after him before the lines are even secured.

“wait!” your feet slap against the wood until you reach rafe, grasping his wrist and pulling him to face you.

“just-” rafe sighs. “let me go, y/n. you can stay at tanneyhill of course just… i don’t need you to reject me again.” “let me explain!” you shout, taking a deep breath before continuing. “i wanted to kiss you, i swear. i just smelled the beer on you, and i got a flashback to scott. i got freaked out, it had nothing to do with you. im just… still recovering.”

“shit.” rafe groans, head tipping back at he stares at the sky for a moment, collecting his anger. “i’m so fucking stupid. of course you need more time, you just left him a couple days ago.” “no im… i like you too rafe. i know i need to heal, but i want to do that with you. i love you.”

rafes face turns briefly to one of confusion before a smile takes over. “im going inside to go use toppers mouthwash real quick then im coming back to kiss you. don’t move.”

sfw taglist: @bejeweledreverie @winterrrnight @ladyinbl00d

[runariya]

The Auction (JJK) • Chapter 6 FINALE

pairing: wolf hybrid!Jungkook x cat hybrid!female reader genre: mafia!AU, hybrid!AU, dystopian!AU, S2L, dark romance, slow burn, angst rating: 18+, MDNI warnings: foul language, angst, being held hostage, obsession and possessiveness, fluff, smoking, OC's parents are still shit, scorpion hybrid (sorry angel, I had it already written lol), multiple murder, mentions of bodies, semi-graphic description of beating someone to death, blood, wounds, explicit sexual content, smut, oral (m. receiving), JK whines a lot but not sub, unprotected sex, marking and bonding, knotting, love confessions <3, lmk if I forgot smth word count: ~ 3K

a/n: This work is purely fictional. All characters and events are entirely imaginary and do not reflect reality. No translations are allowed without permission. Thank you for understanding! 💕

1 • 2 • 3 • 4 • 5 • masterlist

Three things.

There are three things you realised while living with Jungkook.

One—you’ll never, ever, under any circumstances, humiliate him again in public. Not because he doesn’t deserve it sometimes, but because it’s the dumbest and most dangerous thing you could do. Not just for him and his whole organisation, but for you too—it puts your life at risk.

Sure, him killing someone in that nightclub didn’t change much, but his friends seeing him like that, howling, has strained their relationship, and you’re not sure how he’s managed to keep them in line since. You know killing them off wouldn’t be an option to regain his control though. 

Of course, you’d apologised to Jungkook more than once, and he brushed it off like it was nothing, like even though you’d hurt him, he’d still forgive you.

Which brings you to the second thing you realised.

As much of a lunatic as Jungkook is, he’s kind and loving to you. After the branding—that was the first and last time he hurt you physically—he’s never laid a hand on you again or said anything cruel. You still don’t fully understand why he feels the way he does about you, but you’ll get the answers out of him soon, once he emerges from his study to join you by the fireplace.

Just yesterday, you’d asked Jungkook if you could call your parents. To your surprise, he let you without much thought, but stayed right beside you, insisting the phone be on speaker so he could hear.

The call didn’t last long, no. After a few rings, your dad picked up, and you couldn’t help but cry and call his name, only for him to hang up straightaway. You tried again, but no one answered after that.

That’s when you knew Jungkook had been telling the truth all along. And that’s when you finally saw him for who he really is: someone whose only goal in life is to keep you safe and loved, even if it started in a way you hated.

“Don’t think about it,” Jungkook says, sitting down next to you, his arm draped behind you on the headrest as he kisses your temple.

“About you being whipped for me?”

“That you can think about.”

He pulls you close, and you lean into him, soaking in his warmth and scent. The penthouse is still too cold for you; you only feel warm when you’re near Jungkook or the fireplace. One day, you’ll have to ask him to turn up the heating a bit more.

“Jungkook?”

“Hm?”

“Why me?”

There’s an ease in the way you both speak, in how comfortable he seems, and you wonder if it’ll last. Jungkook knows exactly what you’re asking, like he always does, so there’s no hesitation in his voice as his hand moves absentmindedly, tracing soothing circles on your shoulder.

“You don’t remember, do you?”

“Remember what?”

Jungkook stares off, a nostalgic smile tugging at his lips as he lights a cigar.

“Beomseok’s little shop around that dodgy corner. You were sixteen, I think. Always working, every shift it seemed, just to help your shitty family when you should’ve been enjoying life.”

You sit up, startled that he knows about your past.

“One of the many times I stopped by, you cleared out the whole shelf because a bug got stuck in your fur or something.” He chuckles, as if picturing it. “And I helped you. Always did after that.”

“The scrawny boy in the black hoodie and face mask! That was you?”

“That was me.” He nods, locking eyes with you, his gaze full of adoration.

“You made my life so much better back then.” You smile, your hand moving up and down his thigh.

“Back then, I swore I wouldn’t drag you into my world, but I’d keep you safe. Neither worked out, clearly.”

��But I’m safe,” you cut in, unable to bear the sadness in his eyes.

“No, as long as you’re with me in this world, you’re not.”

“Jungkook, I am safe with you,” you insist, determined, because it’s true. You’ve never felt safer than when you’re with him. Not back then, and not now.

Jungkook just nods, as if he’s not entirely convinced but doesn’t want to argue. It’s enough for now, you reckon, and with a bit of courage, knowing you’ve never thanked him properly for all he did for you, you lean in just as he takes another puff of his cigar and kiss his cheek.

“Thanks for saving me, Jungkook.”

He smiles, pulls you against his chest, kisses the top of your head, and mumbles, “Anytime, love.”

You know Jungkook brought you catnip just yesterday when he came back from ‘work’. You also know it should be with your baking supplies, but there’s no trace of it now. You’ve been through every cabinet twice by this point, even pulled out all the tableware just to be sure. But nothing.

There’s no way you’re going out now to buy the ones you’ve been snacking on up until a few days ago, especially after learning from some TikTok that they’re unhealthy because of… well, you don’t even remember anymore. But you’ve looked up a recipe since, and you need to bake some asap before the withdrawal hits too hard.

Knowing Jungkook definitely knows where the catnip is, and that he’s currently two floors down—a floor he’s actually banned you from entering, though he did give you the passcode, your birthdate, in case of emergencies—you head straight for the lift, figuring this is the very definition of an emergency.

You’re shocked when you step out; the floor’s empty of furniture, the walls bare, like an unfinished building. Still, you make your way to the only visible door, soft grunts coming from behind it, and you reckon it’s just his gym.

You walk in without knocking—and freeze, eyes wide at the sight in front of you. It’s not a gym at all, but a floor dedicated to torture.

There are several dead, bloodied bodies off to the side, with Jimin standing nearby, his bored eyes fixed on the brutal scene unfolding before him.

A man’s tied to a chair, barely conscious, as Jungkook, his back to you, hammers down bloody fists over and over into the guy’s face.

It doesn’t take long for Jungkook to stop abruptly and turn, his eyes locking onto yours in shock, sensing your presence before he even hears you.

“Leave!”

But you can’t tear your gaze away from the scorpion hybrid slumped in the chair—the very man who sold you at the auction. Looking again at the bodies, you recognise each one of them now.

The one who kidnapped you and every single person you crossed paths with during your captivity.

“I said leave!” Jungkook barks again, but when you meet his eyes, it’s not anger you see—it’s worry.

You just shake your head, walking silently over to stand beside Jimin, who doesn’t dare say a word. Jungkook looks unsure, but when you give him a nod, something shifts in his expression, like a curtain falling over his very soul.

He turns back to his victim, fists resuming their precise rhythm, as if nothing had interrupted him in the first place.

You’d always thought watching Jungkook work would make you sick, would make you feel something. And while there’s still anger bubbling inside you at the sight of the men who wronged you, you don’t feel much of anything else. There’s not a single part of you that’s repulsed by the sight of death caused by Jungkook, not even at the blood or the life slowly draining from the man in front of you.

Jungkook’s assault isn’t anything dramatic, either—it’s like he’s training on a punching bag, nothing more. No show, no curses, no shouting—just the unrelenting, wet clap of fist meeting flesh.

With one final uppercut, it’s over. The sickening crack of the man’s neck rings out, and Jungkook stops, panting quietly, his body still as he stares at what he’s done—for you.

“Let’s go home, Jungkook,” you call softly.

“You *are* home!” he snaps.

“I am,” you reply, your voice and eyes loving as his gaze meets yours, finally registering your words.

Jungkook’s tense muscles relax at that, and with a single nod, he walks with you to the door, keeping a small distance as he instructs over his shoulder, “Take care of the rest.”

“Yes, boss.”

There’s nothing said on the way back to the penthouse, and you reckon Jungkook needs a minute to calm down, adrenaline still too prominent in his scent. His clothes are soaked in blood, the smell slightly bothering you now, but it’s the ticking of his jaw and the worry in his eyes that has you more concerned.

Sure, you can read him—his eyes and scent give him away without much thought—but you never fully know what’s going on inside. He’s the first to enter the bedroom, and before you’ve even had the chance to close the door, he’s already disappeared into the bathroom and locked the door behind him.

You leave him be for now, giving him space to literally wash away his sins before you need to talk, not about the catnip, but to finally tell him what he means to you, to thank him.

It doesn’t take long before Jungkook emerges from the bathroom, towel wrapped low around his hips, happy trail on display, and for a second, you lose track of what you wanted to say, though you quickly recover.

“Sit down,” you say, already perched on the bed.

He’s hesitant, you can see it in the way his eyes dart around, but he still obliges.

Again, he doesn’t sit right beside you, leaving a bit of space you can’t stand. So, you shuffle closer, taking his hands and inspecting the split knuckles. There aren’t many, and the few that are split are minor, probably because he’s used to this—knows how to throw a punch without hurting himself.

“Thank you, Jungkook.”

“It’s not enough.” He shakes his head.

“It is.”

“It’s not.”

You think for a moment, and then it hits you. “You are enough, Jungkook.”

His head snaps to you, searching your face for a lie that isn’t there.

“You are enough. This is enough. I want to stay. This is my home, and you’re right—I don’t hate you.”

Jungkook’s hand reaches for your face, cradling it softly, as if he needs to touch you to believe it’s real.

“I love you, Jungkook, and I’m sorry for being difficult.”

“You’re not, love, never were.”

There’s a moment for everything, and you reckon this is the moment you want to kiss him, to be kissed by him. You press your hands to his bare chest, leaning forward until your breaths mingle, barely any space left between your lips and his.

You see his eyelids flutter shut, and with that, you close the distance, capturing his soft upper lip. It feels like your life has finally clicked into place, like you’ve been waiting for this moment forever without knowing it. 

You straddle his lap as your tongue plays with his, not in a battle for dominance but as equals, moaning softly into the kiss like a song composed by only you. Occasionally, a whine escapes his throat, and you don’t mind in the slightest, knowing it’s just his genes, just as your purring is from yours.

“Please touch me, Jungkook.”

This time, he listens, his hands cupping your ass and giving it a firm squeeze, pushing your clothed cunt against his hard-on. You want him, want him to claim you, so you speed up the process of undressing, not only yourself but finally pulling off the towel around his waist while kneeling between his legs.

Looking up, your purring louder now, you meet his dilated eyes, seeing your reflection in his pupils. He wants you just as much as you want him, and the knowledge feels so damn satisfying, you can’t help but wrap your tiny hands around his thick cock.

Jerking him off is easy, his precum already slicking his shaft, making your strokes smooth.

“Yes, kitten,” Jungkook breathes, his eyes never leaving yours, too captivated by what you’re doing to close them.

The sight of him has you practically drooling, unable to swallow the saliva pooling in your mouth. It’s your cue to take him properly. You stick out your tongue, licking from his balls to the tip, then taking him all the way into your mouth until you can’t breathe anymore. Your purring gets louder from the taste of him, drawing an approving moan from his lips.

“Fuck, you’re so good to me. So fucking good, kitten.”

Spurred on by his words, you try sucking from your throat rather than your mouth, massaging his tight balls with the excess saliva as you gag slightly from his size. It’s exactly what he wants, what he needs, his abs clenching as his breathing becomes ragged in seconds. 

You feel invincible, like a goddess, taking him in like a champ, not stopping until he grabs your face and pulls you back, both hands cupping your cheeks.

“Enough,” he pants, his eyes burning into yours as he helps you up, too dazed to do it yourself.

Jungkook’s mouth is on yours in an instant when you fall onto the bed, not caring about his own taste as he devours you, his tongue tracing along your lips and neck. He pauses there, snapping out of his instincts for a second, as if he’s debating whether to mark you.

“Mark me,” you moan, your cunt grinding against his thigh, pulling his head closer by his hair.

Jungkook doesn’t respond with words. Instead, he kisses your neck, squeezing your tit, his fingers toying with your nipple.

You never tire of the sight of his back, the way his muscles flex with every movement of his head, while his touch sets every nerve ending on your body on fire.

“Let me love you right first,” he murmurs against your lips, lining up his cock with your soaked cunt and pushing inside as he kisses you.

The stretch and burn are familiar, but it’s different now, with him finally touching you, holding you. It’s not rushed or wild like it was when you fucked yourself on him before. It’s slow and loving, his thrusts deep until he’s buried fully inside you.

Jungkook doesn’t stop kissing you, doesn’t stop kneading your breasts as he picks up his pace, his cock sliding out just enough to keep you connected before thrusting back in, uniting your bodies over and over again.

You love this side of him, love every side of him, and it’s all you can manage to moan, his name like a prayer on your lips. Not knowing how long you’ll last, even though you never want it to stop, you grip his head, pushing him up slightly to meet your eyes.

His brows are furrowed, his rosey lips swollen and shiny, begging for more kisses, but you hold back for just a moment.

“Please mark me, Jungkook.”

“I won’t control you, kitten,” he pants, his thrusts not faltering.

“No, please bond with me.”

Jungkook almost collapses on top of you, his whine so loud it drowns out the wet sounds of his cock driving into you.

“You sure?”

“Yes,” you cry out as he hits just the right spot.

You expect him to go for it immediately, but instead, he kisses your neck again, taking his time, almost reverent in how he prepares to mark you.

He takes one last deep inhale of your scent before finally sinking his fangs into your neck, growling, “You’re mine.”

The added rush of arousal from his bite, combined with the way his hips move faster, has you seeing stars behind your eyelids. You hope Jungkook feels the same, wanting to share everything with him.

When he pulls back to admire the mark, he kisses you again, harder this time, the taste of your blood on his tongue not dampening the moment.

“Mark me too,” he moans against your lips, his sweat dripping down his perfect nose onto your face.

Your hand runs up his back, tangling in his hair as he exposes his neck for you, and you guide him closer to your mouth.

Taking a deep breath, his scent making you dizzier than ever, you sink your teeth into his neck—not because it’ll do anything permanent, just leaving small marks from your tiny canines—but it’s symbolic, and that’s all that matters for both of you.

“I love you,” he whines out, and it’s your bite that gives Jungkook the final push. His cock swells even more, his thrusts becoming irregular. “Where, love?”

“Inside!” You mewl, the added sensation of his cock growing inside you pushing you over the edge too, your legs wrapping tightly around his hips to keep him close.

“Fuck, ___, I love you so much,” Jungkook shudders, coming just as forcefully as he entered your life, nearly paralysing you with the sheer amount of cum filling you.

It’s the last push you need as your orgasm bursts with his, your cunt clenching around him like second nature. 

Jungkook starts to pull out, but you hold him in like a vice, wanting him to knot you and affirm again that this is final. That he is your finality.

There’s not much said but the soft love confessions whispered against your lips and skin, not much done but lying together, basking in the safety and love you’ve found in each other.

1 • 2 • 3 • 4 • 5 • masterlist

a/n 2: tysm for reading and being patient with updates 🥹 lmk what you think in any way you like! Character asks and drabble requests for this fic are still open 💕

Check out my other work here!

All Rights Reserved © @/runariya 2024

taglist: @jksusawife, @kookiewithluv, @justjkkkkk, @staytinyville, @jaiuneamesolitaiire , @ericawantstoescape , @mjuser, @sp1derk0ok , @fluttershyvanilla, @lachimolalajeon , @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni, @llallaaa , @m00njinnie , @passionandsuga , @scuzmunkie , @lerasi , @11thenightwemet11 , @bts-ruu , @metalheadfangirl2001 , @unadulteratedwitcher , @qmsvpx, @minghaosimp, @kittycatkrissa, @weareatthebadlands, @fluttershy-vanilla, @bangtannie7, @closer-to-jungkook, @dreamcatcherluvr, @blueofocean

[zillatastic]

rapper! ony x singer! reader

summary: good girl gone bad ; you just can’t get enough of rapper ! ony who has made a name for himself for participating in a plethora of (usually) one-sided rap beefs, being a creative lyricist/producer, & being such a bad influence to your heart.

(I suck at summarizing ಥ_ಥ̥)

this post contains: head-cannons, cursing, n-word usage, smidge of smut, spelling errors, lowercase grammar, semi-toxic ! ony or wtv, crybaby ! reader, vague description of reader’s body, lowk clickbaited summary, not proofread.

▬▬ rapper! ony who “accidentally” leaks a snippet of his new song with your moans as the intro melody.

much to your horror the audio blows up on tiktok and now every time you open the app, that accursed audio plays.

the worst thing about it is that every time you bring up the audio to ony and question how it even got leaked in the first place, you’re met with a..

“mmcht, ma, for the last time I don’t know how it got leaked. connie’s dumb ass must have did something stupid and posted the wrong shit.”

or a..

“fatbutt, I don’t know why you complaining. you sound sexy as fuck and the fans wanna hear more of the track once i release it. you don’t wanna disappoint our fans, right ma?”

“n-no, I don’t wanna disappoint them but I just don’t feel comfortable with it. maybe you can call connie one more time and try to get it taken care of ?”

“ight.”

it never gets taken care of, in fact three weeks later ony drops the song with eren as featured artist which doubles the song’s popularity and makes it on the billboard hot 100.

“whose pussy is this, ma ? ~ mhm tell me ?” ony asks while delivering slow harsh strokes into your trembling body. your hair wrapped tightly in his hands as it helps aid his assault into your weeping cunt while his free hand is gripping your midsection equally as tight.

“f-fucknmhm, it’s yours pa,” ony’s abusive thrusts to your pussy force your words to ball up in the back of your throat as you try to concentrate on listening to his commands and hold the phone recording the intimate moment.

watching the phone slowly start to slip through your half- boneless hands, it urged him to re-wrap your hair (tightly) into his hands and harshly lift your body onto his chest while continuing his now- upward thrusts into your cunt. the new angle allowed a deeper reach into your cervix as ony heartlessly knocked into it. “say it louder for the camera baby. whose owns this pussy ?”

“ony does, ony owns my pussy. fuck~ please pa I’m so close.”

“good girl, ma. you so pretty when you cry. now cum for me.” ony commands as he watches your body tremble in pure overstimulation and pleasure. biting his lip as he gently wipes the tears from out the corner your eyes and leans down to kiss your cheek.

▬▬ rapper ! ony who can sense when someone is making his girl laugh.

“ony what is your opinion on the Kendrick vs Drake beef?” a reporter asked while shoving her mic into his face.

ony who was tired of being asked this question sighed and tried his best to formulate a sentence that would not offend either rapper.

“well you know I be-” he stops mid sentence to turn around before hearing the soft chuckle of his girlfriend from across the garden of the regal event.

the reporter who was standing there unanswered lifted a brow and tried to gain ony’s attention back on the question for it’s live broadcasted audience.

“umm, ony ?” the reporter asked until she heard a feminine chuckle from the other side of her. the reporter and the cameraman turned swiftly to what caught ony’s eye to see you laughing hysterically at something thee Brent Faiyaz said.

“I’ll be back.” ony mumbled.

(damn.. someone stole my bitch.)

▬▬ rapper ! ony who promotes your music to his hardcore fan base.

▬▬ rapper ! ony who cannot keep his hands off your body.

he is stuck to you like white on rice.

you physically cannot escape this man because his strong arms are always securely wrapped around your waist, neck or arm.

ony isn’t a controlling person, but he is very clingy. he likes to feel the presence of his girl around him and having a body part of his connect to yours-

It sedates him.

cheesy? I know.. but he’s your man, so you’ll deal with it.

▬▬ rapper ! ony whose mean mug is nasty.

he does not play when it comes to people besides him being handsy with you.

ony’s sideeye has become a stan twitter icon.

in the earlier stages of your blooming relationship ony did not want to come off as too overbearing (he is) and let a lot of of his boundaries be overstepped. he never wanted to cause a big scene, so he always used his face to project his emotions instead of his words and fist.

a particular event where you had been pulled to the side to be interviewed had blown up all over social media because of ony deviously standing in the back- mugging the fuck out of the reporter whose hands were on the small of your back.

retweets of the incident had you delighted while ony was rather annoyed.

▬▬ rapper ! ony who dedicates an entire album to you.

▬▬ rapper ! ony who corrects your behavior.

ony has eyes all over. never forget that.

you two had gotten into an argument the day before over something small. at this point you had already forgotten what you two were arguing about, but the impact of the altercation was still there.

you despised when ony bested you in an argument and in retaliation you decided to attend a not-so little house party that ony advised you not to attend.

so what did you do?

you went to the party.

that night you’d tell ony that it was all sasha’s fault, but this was a conscious choice made by yourself.

that night you were spent bent over ony’s leg being spanked till tears then finger fucked.

▬▬ rapper ! ony who can’t stop talking about you during interviews.

▬▬ rapper ! ony who verbally dragged another artist who decided it would be cute to throw shade at your new single.

“ony, delete the tweet.” with your hands on your hips you let out a deep sigh. you two have been bickering back and forth all evening about the tweet-simply because you didn’t care what someone with barely 500k streams had to say.

“no, she’s gonna learn to pick her battles wisely today, ma.”

“oh my fucking god onyankopon put the phone down.”

(end of rapper! ony x singer! reader headcannons pt. 1)

author note: thank you so much for reading and noting. I have not written in years (2019-22) and I wanted to jump back into something new. usually I would’ve written a 10k fanfic on naruto but I’ve been tuning into a lot of aot/jjk content and I’ve decided this is my new era of writing. I cannot wait to find my own comfort and flow with this new fandom !!

[perfectly-imperfect82]

Is that a kid? - Name

"Where's the munchkin?" Alana asked as soon as the door opened, Macca pushing pass Caitlin with Jordan right behind her

"In the living room" caitlin said following her friends there

Katie had you by your feet upside down as you giggled, you being gently dropped on to the couch once Katie saw the others

"Kiddo, want to meet some of our friends?" Katie asked, getting a nod in return as you sat on the couch with everyone joining you

"I'm aunty Alana"

"I'm aunty macca"

"Jordan" said with a wave

"Aunty Jordan" Katie said causing Jordan to smile widely as you waved back before climbing down from the couch to start playing with you stuff animals

"The girls went overboard with gifts for her" Caitlin said with a smile as they watched you play

“Munchkin, can I join you?” Macca asked, climbing down to the floor next to you. You nodding and handing her a stuff animal

"You never said, what's the muckins name?" Macca asked causing caitlin and Katie to share a look

"No clue" Caitlin said

"Have you really been calling her kid all week?" Alana asked shocked

"I don't see a problem with it" Katie said with smirk as Caitlin hit her

"There police can't match her to any missing kids or caseworkers so we don't have a name. We were hoping she would eventually say it" Caitlin defended

"And I'm not calling her Jane, for Jane doe" Katie said

"We need to figure out a name for her" Alana said

"We say random names and see if she answers" Jordan said

"She's not a pet!" Katie exclaimed

"Do you have a better plan?" Macca asked

"Fine" Caitlin said

"I'll start! Makenzie" Macca said hopefully, only to get no reaction

"Alana"

"Jordan"

As Katie and Caitlin just laughed as the hope left all there eyes from not sharing a name with you

"It was worth a shot" Macca said

"Now what"

"There's more names besides your guys" Katie said

"Sam"

"Bethany"

"Ashely"

"Leah"

"Emily" Jordan said and you turned around, all the girls eyes widening

"Could be a coincidence" Katie said as you turned back to your toys

"One way to find out" Macca said, "Emily" and once again you turned around

"Emily, is that your name?" Caitlin asked  causing you to smile

"Holy shit, it worked!"  Alanna said causing Caitlin to hit her

"Just because she isn't speaking now doesn't mean she won't repeat them later" Caitlin said

"Later problem, we got a name!" Katie exclaimed picking you up and kissing you check as Caitlin placed a kiss to your head, causing you to giggle

"I've got gifts to get my niece" Alana said looking things with Emily on it or E as Jordan and macca moved to the floor to play with you

"Whats her last name?" Alanna asked causing Caitlin and Katie to look at each other

"You can pick her middle name if foord goes first"  Caitlin said with a smirk

"In your dreams, McCabe is going first"

———————————————

You were sitting on the sideline bundled up, playing with your toys as the girls practiced. The girls smiling when you would clap for them when you thought they did something good

“Why do you guys keep saying your last name?” Viv asked confused after hearing it multiple times

"We can't decide whose last name to go first for the kiddo" Katie said

“Flip a coin” Jen said

“We aren’t flipping a corn to decide which name goes first” Caitlin said

"Why not let her decide?" Kyra asked causing them all to look confused

"She isn't going to understand what we are asking her to do" Caitlin said

"Doesn't mean she can't decide" Kyra said with a shrug

"How will she decide then?" Katie asked, only making Kyra smile brighten as she explained her plan and put it into action

Alessia was recording, knowing everyone would love to see this later

"Okay Emily, pick a piece of paper"  Kyra said holding the two papers in front of you, one with McCabe and one with Foord

"No pointing" Jen said grabbing Katie hand and Steph grabbing caitlin hand as you were glancing at Caitlin and Katie with an unsure look

"Grab one of the papers darling" Caitlin said giving you a reassuraning smile

The team looked on as you started reaching for one and grabbing it, causing the aussies to cheer at the one you grabbed

"Emily Foord-McCabe" Kyra said happily as Caitlin smiled brightly, picking you up and placing you in her hip as she littered kiss on you face, laughter escaping you

"Sorry babe, but she has chosen" Caitlin said Katie looked a little sad

"And her middle name?" Alessia asked looking at Katie

"London"

"It's where we met and where we found her. Seems fitting" Katie said looking at Caitlin who looked back with lovefilled eyes

"Aren't you a big softie" Leah said with a grin as Katie shares a chaste kiss with caitlin before placing a kiss to you cheek

"Emily London Foord-McCabe" Kyra said with a giant smile "I would prefer Kyra, but London is fitting" causing Steph to gently smack Kyra arm as everyone laughed

[betterthana-six]

| MUSIC TO MY EARS - [ABBY ANDERSON] - CHAPTER TWO |

PAIRINGS: stoic!rugby player abby x fem!reader

SUMMARY: you and your new(ish) roommate, Abby Anderson, have gotten into an argument. about what? unclear at the moment. but it's got Abby in a fit of shame. until late one night she hears you outside with someone whose voice she doesn't recognize and listens in.

WARNINGS: yall. whats up. let me know if you like it pffffft. this is definitely a slow burn, but lots of pining, yearning, and, yes, smut to come. TRUST. so, mdni. there are a lot of flashbacks between now and when they met so we get the full story eventually. this is more of a light hearted story but it does deal with coming to terms with sexuality (and who best to help you along that journey but rugby playing and stoic Abby Anderson?). anyways, i hope that the five people who might read this like it.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Music To My Ears: Chapter 2

.・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。.

Without a plan for what to say nor a thread of rationality, Abby swings the door open. She half-expects you to fall back on her feet when she does it, but you are nowhere to be found. Only in your absence does she realize how hard her heart is pounding.

She takes a beat, feeling dumb in surprise. In all of the heat of her anticipation, Abby must have waited too long. Too late, she realizes. 

To the left, she peers into an empty hallway. The overhead lighting forces her eyes closed. The walls are covered in paper flowers where students wrote their plans for Spring break in permanent marker. 

To the right, Abby sees a group of people she somewhat recognizes all crisscrossed on the floor, encircling and packing what she presumes to be joints. Spearheading them is her friend, a fellow rugby player, who sees Abby and playfully lifts a joint in the air, gesturing an invitation.

Abby closes the door gently behind her and walks over.

“Care to join? We’re going to the balcony once we’re done here,” her friend says. Abby just looks over her shoulder.

“Nah. Nah, I’m good. Hey, did you guys see anyone out here a minute ago?” Abby asks.

“If you’re looking for your roommate, pretty sure she went to the bathroom. She wasn’t looking too hot.”

“What did you see?” Abby nearly hisses. 

The friend raises their hands up in the air so as to claim innocence. “Shit, man, I don’t know. I think her date went bad or something.”

By the time the friend stops talking, Abby has already turned the other way, headed straight for the bathrooms, mumbling a vacant ‘thanks’. 

She peers around the corner and slowly pushes the door in to listen for movement. All the lights are on. The motion sensors had been activated, which is strange considering the floor is usually dead at this hour.

The bathroom stalls are empty but there’s a shower going. 

Abby calls your name faintly but gets no answer. She walks closer to the sound of running water, and through it, a distant voice singing. 

“More than a feelinnnnnnnnnn’, more than a feelin’, when I hear that old song they used to- more than woaaah woahhh’, I begin dreaminnnnnnn…’”

Abby’s heart settles a bit as she walks down the white, linoleum hall. She calls your name again.

The singing stops abruptly but someone sniffles.

“What-uh?” You call out. It is the perfect sound to Abby. A sound she’d grown accustomed to hearing whenever she pissed you off. She doesn’t have to guess for a second that it’s you. And, the exaggerated “-uh” you added to your words when she teased you only confirmed it.  

“I didn’t know there was a concert going on. I would’ve come earlier.”

You stay silent, knitting your brow.

She knocks on the tiles outside your stall. “It’s Abby.”

“Abby… Abby… what can I do for you, Abby?” You ask, your voice illuminated drunkenly as you roll her name over in your mouth. 

She laughs. “Um, are you decent?”

“Are you decent?” 

“Okay, princess,” Abby says a bit more sternly now. “I’m trying to make sure you don’t drown. Either by vodka or the shower. Now, can I, please?”

“Come in, come in.” Abby draws the curtains open to see you finally. She hides a smile and adjusts to the sight before her. She can feel her heart swell a bit. Your legs are sprawled out on the floor, heels still on. That can’t be comfortable. She sees the redness around your ankles. There’s mascara running down your face and not an inch of you is dry. You’re wearing your special occasion maroon dress, as Abby suspected, which now clings to your body with the weight of the water that drenches you completely. Abby has to avert her eyes. She knows you’d never let her see you like this if you were sober. “Hey, crib. Welcome to my MTV,” you say.

Then Abby sees the flask in your hand.

“Alright, hand it over,” Abby says. She kneels down to you with an open hand.

“Hand what over?” You smile big and clutch the flask closer to your body. “I’ve never realized how big your hands are,” you lie. Deflect.

You have Abby. Just like that. Her ears bent to every one of your words and her entire body enslaved to your stare. She is taken aback from how much you affect her. 

She feels it in her stomach. 

Your lips are full and dark, stained vibrantly with some berry. Maybe wine, she thought. You look up at her now, with that full deep smile, and Abby forgets for a moment that you were ever crying on the floor outside your room. 

You look acutely into Abby’s eyes, testing her. 

“Princess…” She elongates the word, staring at you. “Come on, now.”

“Alright, alright,” you concede. You take another swig and give in, handing Abby the flask. “Those damn puppy dog eyes.” 

Abby laughs. She smells the flask and grimaces a bit. She turns the shower handle until the water no longer flows.

“Bad night?”

“Best night of my life.”

“It sounded pretty grim.” She shoots you a knowing look. 

“Shit, how much did you hear?”

“Enough,” Abby says, looking at the floor. She’s almost skittish. “Enough to understand why you’re laying underneath a running shower at almost midnight. I mean, shit, you were right outside the door. It was kind of hard not to listen in.”

“Okay, fuck you very much,” you laugh. “I figured you were asleep.”

“I pretended to be,” she admits with a guilty smile.

You scoff. 

“Well,” Abby says. “I’m glad you have a sense of humor about it now.”

“Yeah,” you hiccup. “Totally hilarious. God, I look fucking pathetic.”

“You look fine,” she says, looking you over, slowly making way up to your eyes. When she gets there, she can’t read your face.

“I don’t want to talk about it. So, don’t ask.”

She nods her head like it was the simplest thing. 

“Let’s go,” Abby says. 

She reaches a hand out to you. You lean into her for stability, soaking her clothes with your own wet mess, but Abby doesn’t shy away from it. Rather, she grabs your waist and puts your arm around her shoulder, squeezing you tight and concentrating ahead to ensure a clear path.

You, however, are looking up at Abby, though her gaze is fixed elsewhere. 

In her arms, you feel like you’re floating. There might as well be a halo of stars swirling above your head. Your legs trail a bit behind hers as she guides you down the bathroom hall. Suddenly, it’s all so incredibly simple. Or, perhaps, all the happiness vodka afforded you is working its magic tenfold, pulsating a warm thrill through your body. It overwhelms you in a dreamy state of mindlessness. You stare at the sharpness of her cheekbones. Her mouth, downturned and focused. Her arms, her arms…

“Wow…” you whisper, eyes locked on her face, arms messily draped around her. Your nose is inches from her neck. Abby just grins.

“I somehow actually didn’t know,” she says, “you curse like a sailor when you’re drunk.”

“Yeah, well, there’s actually a lot you don’t actually know about me actually, so...” You boop her nose with your free hand and shine a wide, stupid smile at her.

.・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。.

Once you get to your dorm room, Abby sits you down on her desk chair and covers you in one of her towels. She brings you her water bottle and nods to you, indicating a command: sip. 

The only light in the room is her desk lamp, and it shines a warm and dusky yellow onto your face so Abby can see your puffy eyes and wine stained mouth in clear view. Abby contains herself as best she can. This is not the first time she’s caught herself staring at you, far from it; she turns her head away when you look up at her, keeping her composure, as always. 

She takes a small rag and starts dabbing the makeup running down your face. 

A sudden pang of guilt permeates your floating feeling. It sobers you up a bit, letting in the very feelings you were trying to avoid. As quickly as you were starry-eyed, swept up in Abby’s hold, you are washed over in a wave of grief, a twinge of pain piercing your heart.

“I’m sorry,” you say, straining your voice. “I’m a mess.”

“Don’t worry about it, seriously.”  Her eyes focused everywhere but yours. She continues to dab your cheeks softly.

You huff, tears threatening to make their way out. You hiccup and take another sip. “I don’t want to go to bed,” you say. “Not yet.”

“That’s fine,” Abby says. She kneels at your feet now, unbuckling the tiny straps of your shoes delicately. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t-”

“Abby, please, can you look at me?” 

The question came out more impatient and whiney than you planned. But Abby obliged, her hand resting on your ankle. 

“Abby,” you say, shaking your head in defeat. “Abby, I screwed everything up tonight.”

“You didn’t screw anything up.”

“I did,” you insist. You place your hand on her face and she stays still, afraid to move or even breathe.

Then, Abby sighs, her eyes soft. “We can talk about it in the morning. I’m sure everything’s fine,” Abby says lightly, smiling at you.

She goes back to taking your shoes off.

“You were right about me, Abby,” you whisper. She looks up at you again and you don’t break eye contact. You tell her everything in those few words. You repeat, “You were right.”

Now, Abby stops what she’s doing and looks up. You see her in full. The light from behind consumes her in a shadow but it strengthens her definition and the fine edges of her face. 

She moves her hand and clasps your wrist, the wrist that cups her own cheek. 

She takes in your serious look and returns it with softness. 

Finally, black tears come spilling down your face, but you don’t necessarily sob. You don’t close your eyes or keel over on the floor. Instead, your face is resolute and still, as though you are simply lost in thought. Eyes on Abby but somewhere else entirely.

“Hey,” Abby says. She instinctively pulls you in. “It’s okay.” Her arms wrap around your body, sheltering you with her own. She breathes you in, holding you tight while tears fall down your face and onto her shoulders. “It’s okay.”

You succumb to her embrace and let your body go a little limp. It’s a warmth you haven’t experienced in years. The room is spinning; you can’t tell if it’s from the alcohol or the catharsis of being held by her. Either way, you breathe deep and shiver on the exhale, and, as if responding to you, Abby squeezes tighter. There’s no sense of urgency from Abby to end this embrace. It could go on forever, and you both would let it. 

It was clear. 

This is what it felt like to surrender to yourself, your burning heart linked inarguably to the fire in Abby’s. Pressed against each other like old friends, finally reuniting after being apart for too long, in an act of true intimacy. 

All of the tension and anxiety you felt around her these last few months dissipates. You can’t even remember why it was really there to begin with. You tilt your head into her, smelling her, digging your face into her neck like a child.

When finally you pull back, Abby looks at you as if seeing you for the first time again. As if her eyes were divinely predisposed to not simply look at you but really see you.

.・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。.

This wasn’t a new sensation for Abby. 

It had even become somewhat of a mindfulness practice to contain herself around you, if anything, which was a problem she’d never experienced before. 

If December Abby could watch tonight’s spectacle, the irritated way she eavesdropped and the tenderness when she touched you, she would likely be mystified by this soft version of herself.

Her December self was far more regimented. Disciplined. Focused. 

Especially during season, Abby had to excel.

You do what you need to do to get it done. Keep your head down. Study hard, lift harder.

This was her mindset, philosophy, way of life. Whatever you want to call it, she navigated it with steadfast conviction. 

Her days were filled with routine. She woke up early and headed to the gym. Her protein shake waited in her bag after an hour or two of conditioning and her fifteen minute ice bath. She showered, and then she was onto her classes. Rugby practice lasted until early evenings most days. Then it was dinner and bed. 

Weekends were almost her own; she spent most of her hours reading.

Distractions did come every so often in the form of girls. Who doesn’t need to be a little distracted sometimes? 

They come and go. It’s never anything really serious. Abby had made peace with that. She preferred it, actually.

Abby wasn’t the type to force anything.

Her outlook was that if it was meant to happen, it would. She let it all fall into her lap. 

Just like Gillian did, and Ally. And Mara.

She’d been told by her teammates that that’s what makes her “quite the magnet”. Girls always like the quiet thing, a friend once said, someone fierce on the field and tender in bed. Talented in both areas.

All of that, Abby very much knew, was a tad disingenuous on her end. She just wasn’t invested, so naturally there wasn’t much for her to say. 

Get her laughing with an old friend, though, or anyone she’s really comfortable with, maybe when she’s drunk, and she becomes a talker. All silly and red in the face from giggling. It didn’t happen too often. 

So, at first, it didn’t cross her mind to be concerned with you. You two would be good roommates, she thought. Maybe friends, if it happened naturally. 

That was her rationale talking. Shower thoughts crammed her head not so long after she found you perusing her rugby trophies. She involuntarily assembled every view of you that she got from that brief introduction. 

Abby pictured your cheeks and nose. They were still pink after coming in from the cold. And your hair was pulled back with strands windswept messily over your face. You looked like a storybook character, someone totally imagined, pulled from the page into real life. 

And, there was something in the way you squirmed at the sight of her body. How your breath hitched when she bared her chest to you. It made something so completely obvious to her, but you seemed oblivious to it.

She couldn’t help but smile to herself like a fool while she thought it over. For fuck’s sake, Abby was grinning each time she turned away from you. She grinned all the way down the hallway on her walk to the showers.

You were intriguing to Abby. Undoubtedly. 

.・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。.

When she got back, you were sat down on the floor unpacking your clothes into small, wooden drawers.

Abby had her towel wrapped around her whole body.  She nodded to you as a short re-greeting and searched through her closet. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a guitar case. She noted the stickers on it - some obscure bands, some random abstract art.

“You play?” She asked. 

You looked up to what she was pointing at.

“I’m studying classical guitar.”

“Cool,” Abby responded absently. “You sing?”

“Uh, to myself. In the shower. Sometimes.”

“I’ll have to stop by for a concert.”

You laughed, shaking your head. 

“What about you? What do you study?” You forced out. You knew you sucked at small talk, and, god, you were so fucking awkward it killed you sometimes. The words came out like sludge. Abby didn’t seem to notice, or, if she did, she didn’t let on.

“Marine biology,” she answered. “Actually, it’s ichthyology. I study fish.”

“Marine biology sounds way cooler.”

“Yeah. That’s what I usually tell people. Makes it seem like I don’t just stand around all day hunched over a microscope. People tend to envision me in a scuba suit taking photos of massive animals, like, a hundred feet deep in the ocean, so I let them.”

“I’m still impressed,” you said. “I was never good at science, but I love aquariums.”

“I love aquariums,” she agreed, earnestly. 

You both looked up at each other then.

You were about to say something else, but Abby started drying herself off, revealing her body, muscular and lightly tan.

“Oh,” you blurted and turned sharply away from her. “I- sorry.”

Abby laughed, and asked, “Am I offending you?”

“No, no. Sorry. I didn’t realize you were doing that. I’m good, though. Let me know when you’re done.”

“I mean, we’re gonna be roommates ‘til June. This might be something you have to get over.”

“Yeah! No, I know,” you trip over yourself trying to explain. “You’re very…comfortable… being naked in front of strangers. I wasn’t expecting it.”

She chuckled at that. “I didn’t know I was in the presence of royalty.”

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

“You’re squeamish,” Abby pointed out. “You’ve never had a roommate before.” 

She literally pointed her finger out at you, like she finally decided on your guilty verdict.

“Fine, you got me. My last dorm was a solo. I didn’t want you to think I’m some creep, okay? We met, like, an hour ago.”

Your voice went all high-pitched in a way you could never control when interrogated.

Abby stayed quiet for a moment, letting your words sit in the air as she grinned to herself and wrung out her hair.

“I definitely don’t think you’re a creep,” she said eventually. “A bit innocent, maybe…”

“I’m not in- ” You snapped, whipping your head around. 

Abby stood tall and relaxed staring at you. She was fully clothed now, wearing a tight shirt and sweats. Her arms were bulging from the sleeves. 

Something about her demeanor was sweet though, even with her “who me?” face. She wasn’t trying to be mean.

“Sorry, sorry,” Abby said. “You’re just very polite is all. Like a princess.” 

You felt your face get hot. You turned away from her again and went back to organizing your stuff. Abby plopped on her bed indifferently and cracked open her book. 

.・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。.

An hour passed in complete silence. You worked away, slowly unraveling your belongings into neat separate storage units. 

You thought about calling your mom. No. How many times will it take for you to remember that she only makes you feel worse? There was really no one else to call then. It’s fine, you reasoned. You understood well by now that self-reliance had its growing pains.

Every once and a while you snuck a quick glance at Abby. You didn’t mean to, of course. It was more to see what she was reading. You couldn’t look too long. It was almost like she knew exactly when you were doing it, like she could feel your eyes on her, and she would instinctively catch you in the act, only to recoil nonchalantly in her book as soon as she spotted you.

Eventually, you stood up on your bed to string fairy lights across the ceiling and stick your posters on the wall.

“Is that Janis Ian?” Abby asked, breaking the silence and startling you. You turned around. Abby’s face peaked above her book. You looked back at the poster. 

“You know Janis Ian?”

“I think…” Abby says thoughtfully. And then she sang in a quick and quiet mumble, “I learned the truth at seventeen, that love was meant for beauty queens… right?”

You couldn’t help but beam a bit as you nodded a hesitant ‘yes’. She really didn’t look the type to start singing Janis Ian. 

You turned to stick another poster up when Abby laughed aloud. 

“What?”

“No, nothing, nothing,” she said, concealing a smile and hiding her head behind her book again. 

You cocked your head at her. “What?”

“Nothing. I just didn’t realize that you were a 60 year old lesbian.”

The light on your face suddenly went dim. You scoffed and looked up at your wall. You had stuck a pink 1994 tour poster with the Indigo Girls posed casually on it.  

“They’re all really great guitarists,” you said, plainly. “I grew up with their music.”

“You don’t have to defend yourself to me,” Abby said. 

“They just happen to all be old lesbians, it doesn’t mean that I am one.”

“I’m not judging,” She said, and threw up her hands. “I fuck with it, really. Old school gay vibes. That’s awesome.”

“I’m not- ” You said, raising your eyebrows at her. “I’m not.”

“Okay,” Abby said. She was agreeing with you. Truthfully enough on paper, but you still couldn’t tell if she was fucking with you. “I got it.”

Abby tried to decipher something in your face, but you shot her a chiding stare and dropped down from your bed.  

“I’m going for a walk.” 

You felt Abby’s eyes following you as you left. 

You walked around your dorm floor aimlessly until you reached an exit. It was the post-dinner lull of the night where some students were already in bed and some were already out.

Right or left, it didn’t matter where you went. You had no real idea of where you were anyways. All memories of touring the place weeks ago had flown from your head as soon as they’d entered. The ‘where’ of your transfer wasn’t the point at the time.

It didn’t matter. You walked to a bench a few blocks down and pulled out your pack of cigarettes. You only had them because they looked cool but always felt a little stupid every time you smoked one. They also came in handy when you needed one. Which you did.

You couldn’t put words to exactly what was bothering you about her. 

She hadn’t said anything outright offensive. She was joking around.

Abby just seemed like someone who thought she knew everything about everything and everyone. Yes, that’s what it was. She was too confident in her own intellect. And far too proud of her body. It annoyed you. And, you weren’t looking for friends who put you on edge anymore. You weren’t interested in being tested.

Abby knew she was testing you, however clueless an act she put on for you. 

It wasn’t something she did often. Not with strangers. At the very least not when she was sober. 

It was something drunk Abby does at parties. The drinks go directly to her head thus emerging a butch Casanova who shamelessly flirts with straight girls. 

“Straight.” 

Not that the goal was to hook up with them necessarily. The thing is, Abby just had a little theory that everyone’s a little gay. Some people just try to hide it, if they can help it. And many people can succeed for a while. Unless the closet door were to be cracked ajar by an innocent, drunken conversation or two…

“Are all the rugby team fucking each other?” They’d ask. “Be honest.”

To which she’d respond: “Why, are you trying to join?”

Or, something like that.

She didn’t know why it was coming out around you on a random Monday evening. She felt weirdly invigorated.

You so quickly became imperative to her, though she tried to refrain from taking the feeling seriously. She couldn’t explain it to herself well enough, but it felt as though something new was beginning.

Everything about your demeanor said you wore your heart on your sleeve yet you acted like a closed book. It was obvious in the way you spoke, like you had some secret to hide and were aching to scream it. And there was something to your features. Starkly beautiful, that was obvious to Abby, but it was more than that. She felt she needed to see your face again and again to remember the details. Even in two conversations, she felt an urge to fix her gaze on you repeatedly. 

.・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。.

She feels the very same thing now. The absolutely fatal desire to look and look and look at you until she was acquainted with every feature.

Even with bitter sadness written across your face, you are gorgeous. 

The light grazes your skin. Your hair still drips small water beads, and tears fall from the corners of your eyes like diamonds. You shake slightly in her arms.

You pull away, inches from Abby, breathing in her air. 

“I don’t want to go to bed yet…” You say again, and the only thing you can hear is her breath and the buzzing in your ears.

Your faces are just inches away from one another. Abby’s blood pumps so hard she thinks you can hear it. 

You tilt your head up to hers, lost in a trance. 

How wonderful it would be, Abby thinks, to take your face in my hands and kiss you.

She wants to. God, and she’s wanted to. For longer than she’s willing to admit. But she retreats.

You look up at her with hungry, eager eyes. 

Abby clears her throat.

“So, let’s not,” she says. You snap out of it. Your hungry eyes turn confused. Abby’s face changes per something that dawned on her. 

“Let’s not go to bed, princess,” Abby says and grabs your hand. “I have an idea.”

Chapter 3

Comment if you want to be on this story's taglist!

Tag babies: @soupycloud @femme-historian @ichokedonmyoreo @paleidiot

.・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。.

[house-of-lovin]

legally binded

Jenna Ortega x F!Reader

masterlist | next part

Summary: After getting caught in some hot waters with the press, you are forced into an unexpected agreement with America's sweetheart, Jenna Ortega to save your career.

Warnings/Tags: famous!reader, mentions of hard substances, intoxication, mature language, real people (do not read if any of these makes you uncomfortable)

Note: Wrote a quick one, I don't usually write about real people so (this is all fiction, don't take it seriously) Can you tell I'm procrastinating on my other WIPs.

Word Count: 2.1k+

“Blacking out at a strip club in Vegas, are you fucking serious?”

Jake, your manager’s voice thunders around the office. 

You sink lower into the armchair, casting your eyes down – ashamed. From your peripheral, you can see Jake pacing up and down behind his desk and yanking at his tie; roughing up his usually neat-suited appearance. 

“Is it bad?” You gather the courage to ask.

There was a lot of shit that Jake lets you get away with. He’s known since you were a young teen with starry-eyed dreams. Except, your dreams did come true. You were living it, working with respected directors and actors on prestigious sets and projects; it was a shot in the dark that you would ever become a working actor much less a critically-acclaimed one but Jake took a chance on you.

But no one had warned you just how much you had to give up in order to keep succeeding at your dream. Work breeds more work, is that what they say?

Well if that’s the case, it certainly felt like it. Since your first big break, you haven’t stopped working. Seemingly flying to every crevice of the Earth to show face at yet another event they had scheduled on your calendar. 

You could barely name the day of the week.

Being in your teens in the public eye was not easy and it hasn’t gotten any easier as you entered your 20s. So they can sue you for trying to have some fun for once in your life. Granted, you may have gone overboard with it… that much you can own up to.

“Is it bad?” He scoffs, reiterating your question in a mocking tone and if it were anyone else you wouldn’t have been able to stave off your annoyance. “Try the end of times… you got locked up in jail. For possession of coke. You can imagine the headlines.”

You wince, clamping your eyes shut. Yeah, that is bad. “It wasn’t mine! It was–”

“Oh, I know whose it was!” Abruptly stopping, he swipes a finger in your direction shutting you up. “You and your little boy-toy can say goodbye to each other ‘til Liv and I fix this goddamn mess.”

“I didn’t know he had it on him, Jake. And he’s not my boy toy.” Your nose screws up in disgust. 

“It doesn’t matter anymore. The media caught wind of your weekend away in Vegas with that singer. Did you really think no one would recognize you with a famous musician in a strip club? They have pictures of you in cuffs, Y/N – you’re lucky you didn’t get pressed with charges for drug possession.” 

You hear the tired disappointment in Jake’s voice and feel guilt crawl around in your chest. No words seem to be good enough to fix the mess you created so you stay silent. You can add this to the list of headlines he has had to clean up recently. You keep your head down, like a petulant child called into the principal’s office – which in this situation, was an accurate comparison.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me, Y/N.” A higher-pitched voice echoes behind you and theoretically, if it were physically possible to pass through atoms, you’d be 6-feet under the Earth’s crust.

Far, far away from Liv.

“I already gave her the talk, Liv. We haven’t got the time. What’s the plan to fix this?” Jake crosses his arms, one elbow propped to hold his heavy head up. The bags under his eyes were a clear indication that like you, he also hasn’t slept since he bailed you out of Clark County Jail – a mere 10 hours ago.

All you knew is that you were waking up in a cold, dingy cell with a nasty hangover and an officer shouting from behind steel bars that someone had posted bail for you. Next thing you knew, you were being escorted out the side entrance of the building and into a blacked-out Escalade then driven to a private tarmac where a jet was waiting to take you back to Los Angeles.

Liv is also someone you accredit your success to. Jake and Liv are partners and often represent clients together. You liked to call them each other’s work husband/wife. Liv is a tough lady, only in her early 30s and already one of the most sought-after PR agents in Hollywood; has a boss-ass bitch attitude and a resting bitch face to match. Where Jake often played the good cop with you, Liv was guaranteed to be the complete opposite. 

Liv rounds the desk, standing beside Jake. She was dressed in business casual clothes but her hair wasn’t done like it usually was – a sign she had rushed over here upon your arrival. Staring you down with a menacing glare before rolling her eyes. “You’re not gonna like it, but I don’t care because we’re way past doing things your way.”

You sit up, a little scared. Liv is not one to mess around with. If she says it’s something you won’t like, you might as well go dig up your own grave. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I have an idea as to how to get some heat off your shoulders. Just until the press can find something else to fuss over.” She waves with a hand, furiously typing on her phone.

You and Jake shared a look, waiting for her to continue. 

“Well, are you going to tell us or not?” Jake huffs, throwing his hands in the air. Was he the only one in this damn room that felt like the sky was falling?

A knock interrupts before Liv can respond. “Hold that thought… Come in!” She holds a finger up, shoving her phone in her back pocket. 

You turn around, curiosity getting the better of you. Only, it was Jake’s assistant popping her head in. “Sorry for interrupting, sir. I know you said not to disturb you unless it was urgent.”

Jake runs a tired hand on his face. “Just get to the point, Em.” He says, not unkindly.

“Miss Olivia’s guests are here for the meeting. I was wondering if I can let them in?” The young assistant says timidly. Anyone can feel the thick tension in the room. No doubt she also saw the headlines plastered all over the internet of your face. There was an urgency in her mannerism that told you she wanted out of this conversation as soon as possible.

“Yes, let them in! Don’t make them wait.” She waves frantically. The door closes, leaving the three of you alone for a moment.

“Liv, what is this?” Jake asks before you can.

“Y/N, control your anger and be kind to our guests. This is for you, remember that.” She plasters a large smile with her last words as the door opens; multiple voices can be heard behind you. What the hell does that mean?

“Miss Ortega, great to officially meet you and Sarah, thank you for meeting us on such short notice.” Your head snaps to the side as Liv steps out from behind the desk to greet the people behind you.

The sight has you struck dumb. Why is Wednesday Addams in your manager’s office?

Granted, you know who she is. Who doesn’t? You can barely drive down any highway in L.A. without seeing her face plastered on some sort of billboard or building. But why is she here, in this office?

“Y/N I’d like you to meet Miss Ortega…” You were still rooted in your chair, just staring at them like an idiot. An uptick of a brow is raised as Jenna watches you remain unmoving. 

“Get up.” Jake kicks the back of your chair as he rounds the desk to greet Jenna and her manager, gritting under his breath. You spring up at the thud, rubbing your back in annoyance. 

“Nice to meet you, Miss Ortega.” You extend your hand when she finishes greeting Jake. 

She stood a good few inches under you, dressed casually in loose pants and a hoodie. She had a pair of sunglasses pushing her hair back, which was tied in a messy low bun; headphones around her neck.

You two have never crossed paths in all your years in Tinseltown – which was surprising considering you two are around the same age. There might have been an event or two that you had attended at the same time but you have never had the chance for a formal introduction. It wasn't difficult to see why the whole world was buzzing about Jenna Ortega.

“Just Jenna is fine.” She slides her hand in yours, sending a small, shy smile. The sparks you feel when your palms connect has you flinching almost imperceptibly. You see Jenna’s eyes snapping toward your connected hands telling you she may have felt it too. But before you can think too hard on it, you’re pulling away from her grasp. 

“Let’s all sit down, so we can tell you why you’re both here.”

Jenna takes the armchair to your left, and you fight to keep your sight straight ahead. “There’s no easy way to break the news. But here’s the CliffsNotes version. Over 24 hours ago, Y/N was arrested in Vegas. The press is having a field day, they already have the paps planted outside her house and every location she frequents. Our solution… a PR relationship, just until all of this has died down.”

You stare deadpan at Liv. Out of all the years, you have known her, this has to be the most balls-to-the-wall, bonkers shit she’s ever said to you. 

“What?” A sweet voice piques beside you, voicing out the shock you weren’t able to verbalize.

“A fake relationship, sweetie.” Her manager, Sarah says in a much sweeter tone than Liv could ever muster.

You can see her shake her head from your side eye. “We agreed to no PR stunts like this, Sarah.”

“I know, Jen. But with the recent controversy online… we just think this may be a good look. Liv called me last night and we came up with this plan and thought it couldn’t hurt with both of your situations.” At least her manager sounded apologetic. 

Jenna scoffs, feeling irritated and ambushed. “No offence, but I can handle a few nobodies online. And my situation is nowhere near as bad as hers. If anything how would pairing me up with someone who does drugs be good for my image.”

Your head snaps to her, nearly growling, “Watch it. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She bites back, turning to glare at you. “Is it not the truth?”

“No.”

“We got a drug user and a liar, great.” She mutters under her breath.

“Okay stop! You two don’t have a choice,” Sarah speaks up, sending Jenna a look you didn’t care enough to decipher. 

“Get someone else,” You say to Liv, ignoring everyone else around you. “Literally anyone else, please.” 

Jenna puffs out an incredulous scoff. “Screw you, dude.”

“Screw you too!”

“Jenna!” “Y/N!” The adults of the room shout over one another, chastising you both.

“That’s enough!” Jake shouts, getting you to break your intense glaring at the other actress. Jake’s tone slightly scared you, he was never one to raise his voice. And you knew you were balancing on some very thin and fragile ice with him at the moment. 

“This is the plan and that’s final! Jenna, everyone sees you as America’s sweetheart after the success of Wednesday. As much as it sucks, everyone is watching your next move, personally and professionally. And Y/N, you’ve been in the press for literally all the wrong things this year, and yet, the public can’t get enough of you. It’s good publicity on both sides… So you two will learn to get along – for the sake of both of your careers.” He says with a tone that leaned on threatening and you didn’t have the balls the challenge him on that. 

You had worked too hard for the life you have today just for it to be thrown away by a careless mistake. So if you had to buckle down and act in love with one of the most annoying people you had ever met, in world-record time, then so be it.

“How long…” You mumble, dropping your head in defeat.

“Three months at most. Less the quicker people forget about your night at the county jail.” Liv answers.

“Fine…” You conceded.

A few seconds of silence ring out before she answers, “Fine…”

●●●

Jake and Liv @ Reader:

I swear there's a SpongeBob meme for everything.

:)

[matan4il]

911 ep 704 first watch reactions

IDK if anyone else will talk about this, but Josh and Maddie were a great comedic start to this ep! XD Also. Interesting choice to give Josh, the currently only openly gay male character on the show, more lines again. Is it a reminder he's there, so he can be a part of Buck's journey later on? *eyes emoji* We'll see.

All of these pretty women (I should also mention that as a non-American, all the gasped, "It's Joey!" "It's you!" "It's me!" are missing me by a kilometer. Whoever Joey is, he's not Madonna yet, if you want me to get excited about him, 911, you're gonna have to give me a bit more than a single name), hitting on Buck and Eddie, and the ease with which both men turn them down... Sure, this is a part of the set up regarding Buck, and Eddie technically has an excuse, but also. Most straight, taken men would at least be tempted. They'd at least bite their lips with frustration. Have some reaction. But not Eddie. And when you remember that he was distinctly not taken in ep 204, but still had the same reaction to pretty young women hitting on him and Buck... I know this ep is all about celebrating the 'oh' moment of another guy, but that's not gonna stop me from rooting for Eddie to have similar realizations eventually (and get together with that certain other guy *cough*).

LMAO So, Buck is meeting up with the guy who's gonna be his sexual awakening, a man who's good looking, gave him a thrill already, is an impressive fighter pilot, and the first thing he can think of to say, is blurt out Eddie's name? LMAO Oh, this boy really is down bad...

Man, that bit where Tommy tells Buck he can have it both ways, he can get certified and continue to serve with the 118. Thanks for the beautiful foreshadowing, 911. Buck saying he's keeping his options fluid... Holy shit, the show really wasn't holding any punches back.

OMG, why is Harry old enough to be making Bathena waffles (and then turn out to be involved in an altercation)? I swear, he was still on baby formula just a second ago. How did 7 seasons just fly by!?

Buck getting jealous over Eddie and Tommy sparring. Considering the fact that Buck was the one getting all hot and bothered over semi-naked Eddie in the gym in 201, and ready to jump into a boxing match with him, this is making me wanna punch a wall myself. The symbolism in this ep is NOT very veiled. Add to that Eddie mentioning how he and Tommy met and just... clicked. In the same conversation that reminds us of Buddie' in 201's first meeting, where they clicked? (even though they were both too dumb to realize in what way) 911, just let me catch my breath for a second challenge! Also, Eddie is dating Tommy more intensely than he is Marisol? Okay. Duly noted. These firefighters are both so freaking hetero, I'm sure that's exactly what every casual viewer was telling themselves at this point. And poor Buck, getting his hopes up that Eddie is asking him when he's free, so they can go on a date themselves, only to be let down. Poor baby boy. But this feels like it's spelling out the answer to whether Buck's jealous over Tommy or Eddie. So, yay for Tommy helping him with his bi awakening. But it's clear who's really occupying Buck's heart and mind, and whose time he wants. FOR SIX FREAKING SEASONS NOW.

Oh, it's continuing, the show really is trying to kill me, having Buck complain to Maddie about how often Eddie has been seeing Tommy. The annoyance with how cool Tommy is, that's exactly Buck's reaction to Eddie in 201. So, if Buck and Tommy will then kiss, what does that say about what Buck didn't even realize he wanted to happen with Eddie back then, hmmm? I also love that Buck wants to be the cooler "dad's friend" in Christopher's eyes. That's his son, you can't take that away from him. And of course, Maddie was his first confidante about his feels for Eddie, she was the first one to call out his boy crush (in 204) and to hear Buck automatically think about Eddie, when he hears, "He's cute!" (in 206). It's so freaking right that she is now the witness to Buck's bi jealousy meltdown. I love her calling him out on it. "Is it circled with a heart around it?" Honestly, this is better than front row seats at the Bachelor mansion. I'm just disappointed in Chimney and his imaginary popcorn that he doesn't get to witness all of this firsthand and get what it means. Letting down all Bachelor fans out there, Chim. -_-

And then Buck's back in the gym, staring at Eddie, feathers ruffled. Am I going to make it to the end of this ep? Who cares? This is fantastic! XD He tries to catch Eddie's attention with the little weightlifting without a spotter stunt, and it's specifically him. Chim turned out to also be impressed by how cool Tommy is, but Buck is circling Eddie, like a clueless Jane Austen heroine, about to become a hit teen romance movie. Ravi falling for Buck's weightlifting attention trap is just getting in the way. Chim asking about Buck's weird basketball hugging session is nothing but a way to get to the ball game with Eddie. Okay, I'm at the point where I need to be chewing on imaginary popcorn.

Athena is one of the strongest characters on television, ever. Precisely because she's not just tough when she has to be, she has a heart, too. The scene where she told the woman she accidentally killed her own son was hard to just watch. IDK how she actually did that. I'm not sure if viewers who aren't moms get it, 'coz I didn't until I went with my sister through her pregnancy. Motherhood changes you forever. You feel your kid moving inside you. You bond with them in the most intimate way possible before they're even born. You go on a wild journey with them after, where every second counts, let alone every hour and every day, when they're hungry, when they're cold, when they struggle to sleep, when they finally do, when they take their first step, when they fail and fall... The love and protectiveness are something different to anything else in life. IDK how Athena, who gets all of this, managed to break the news to this mother, that she had unknowingly killed her own kid. I think to me, this has to be the most devastating scene in the entire history of the show. IDK if I'll be able to watch it again.

When basketball game scene starts, and Chimney knows something's up, I was already chuckling. But then Eddie sees them, and the first thing isn't expressing joy that his best friend is there, it's asking how did Chim talk him into this. "He always says no to me." They BOTH always talk about each other in romantic coded language, it's not just Buck, and in the same ep where we get bi Buck confirmed, that makes me froth at the mouth...

"So I'm your basketball beard. I feel so bonded." Not Chimney calling Buck out, while using the term for closeted gay guys using someone as a cover. I AM SCREAMING. Thank you, 911 gods!

That montage with Eddie and Tommy high fiving each other right in front of Buck's salad face, while their muscles glisten in the sun, and Top Gun-like music plays in the background, like the biggest nod to the volleyball scene from that gayest movie ever made, which we already had Buddie paraphrasing in 201. I am fine, this is fine. I love this burning kitchen I'm sitting in.

Buck causing Eddie's injury because of his jealousy (which again, is not about Tommy. He made an impression on Chim as well, who was screaming, "Buck, I'm open! I'm OPEN!") and not even getting to offer some help, because Tommy's already on it... I hope ABC is happy with their viewership dropping next week, because they've killed every Buddie shipper in the fandom.

"Well, I'm not a 14 year old girl..." Both Buck and Maddie together: "So stop acting like one." Love this scene, love these siblings, love that the reference with the two blonde Sarahs sounds platonic, but it's also from a past season on the Bachelor. 911 really wants you to know this is romantic, and Buck's going through a late sexual awakening in his 30's, instead of in his teens, even before he's able to see it.

So, the conclusion to Buck and Maddie's convo is that he needs to talk to Eddie, to make it better, yet the person he ends up talking to is Tommy, and that leads to the bi awakening kiss... It's a classic rom com switch, we hear a knock at the door, we expect it to be THE love interest, showing up at the right time, and it's someone else, making the protagonist's romantic journey so close, but about to get longer. It's further emphasized by a shot over Tommy's shoulder, in a way that he can easily be confused for Eddie, and which is reminiscent of moment when we saw Buck standing at Eddie's door, or both of them there toegther.

It was a nice talk, I loved Tommy saying he can't replace Buck, I def noticed how he went to talk about it in the context of Chris instead of Eddie (hmmm... I wonder why), but my fave part was how Buck glowed when he heard his son doesn't shut up about him. ^u^ He even took a second to look away from Tommy, to take it in with a huge grin. Then Buck and Tommy start warming up to each other, moving towards flirtation, and what comes out of Buck's mouth? "You don't have to tell me how great Eddie is." That's not how you flirt with a guy, Buck. I liked Tommy kissing him, and Buck not recoiling. Like he's always known on some level, but could never do anything about it. "That's better than fake mouth static." LOL The stuff that great romance is made of.

I'm SO happy Buck is getting this storyline of realization he's bi, I've thought it would be important and that the show has laid some groundwork for it since 107, and I don't mind that Tommy is the "romantic other" who helps him with it. I do believe this is important bi representation in and of itself, away from Buddie, and if nothing else ever comes of it, this is still beyond wonderful. In 2024, we still barely have any characters who start out presumed straight, and are allowed the freedom to figure out that maybe their sexual orientation is different than what they thought, despite the fact that in reality, human sexuality is complex and confusing and a mess. So this really matters to me, as a human being, and as a queer person. That said, I can't ignore the past 5 seasons, and the way this storyline played out, with Tommy kissing Buck, but the whole thing being emotionally centered around Buck's feelings for Eddie, it means that whether they go canon or not (and at this point, I find it hard to believe they'd make Buck canonically bi, taking this HUGE risk of homophobic backlash, and not go there with him and Eddie, but just in case they don't, I wanna say this), it'll always be Buddie for me.

Thank you for reading! If you're looking for more, you can find my s7 reactions tag here, and more of my Buddie meta and content in my pinned post. xoxox

[remushrts]

evan or barty comforting the reader after they hear someone talking about them??

Catharsis

— pairing: barty crouch jr x reader

— a/n: hii, thank you for the request!! you didn't specify if you wanted that platonic or romantic, so it can be read either way! also i chose barty because this is a little self indulging and i took it in a bit of an other direction, hope it's okay anyway

— warnings: inciting violence (because it's barty), reader (literally) breaks a tv (don't try this at home please), not proof read

When the bedroom door unlocks with a soft click, you don't know who you'd expect to enter, but definitely, it was not Barty. He walks over to you, eyes falling to your watery ones as he gives you a smile, only a bit softer than usual. "So, who do I need to beat?" He asks, sitting on the floor by your side without a care in the world.

"Nobody." You sniff, chuckling softly. "Good to know you're up for it though."

"Yeah, hell I am." You can tell his a bit stiffer too, he's not used to the whole thing, you think. Comforting people, being gentle with them, it was never Barty's strength. "Wanna talk about it? Or smash a tv?" You frown, his offer is tempting, but strange.

"Whose tv?" You ask, laughing softly. The sound is almost a huff, the only hint of humor in the soft curls of your lips.

"Don't worry about it." He smirks, propping himself up on his feet and holding out a hand for you, his eyes exhibiting a dangerous glint to them. "So, you wanna smash a tv? We can find the fucker's house too if you feel like breaking a window."

And yeah, maybe you do.

For Barty's credit, he did tell you you could break a tv. Still, you're a bit surprised as he walks you to his backyard and a full television stands on two bricks, looking brand new except from a few scratches on the led screen. Barty smirks at your reaction. "It's like a rage room, but I don't have a room to worry about cleaning up after." He explains, picking a bat from the floor and swirling it lazily, pretending to hit an invisible ball.

"Did you steal this?" You can't help but ask. Following after him, you can't help but notice the glass shards and wood splinters littering the floor, as well as a few bottle necks here and there.

"Of course not!" He feigns offense like the worst actor in the world. "It was on Evan's flat when he moved, but it's broken. Also, it reeks of beer, he thinks the bastard that owned it dumped a few cans on it and it broke down. He said it's not worth fixing, thus this baby sitting on my yard."

You only nod. Breaking a tv with Barty was not how you imagined your day would end, but you were not one to complain. At least you weren't crying yourself to sleep in your room.

"So, what's it gonna be, princess?" You open your mouth to ask what he's talking about, only to see him holding out the baseball bat and another brick on his hands. "Choose your weapon." You pick the baseball bat, and he handles you a pair of safety googles, to which you raise a brown. "What? I'm not an animal." As soon as you've secured the googles on your eyes, Barty lowers his own. "To who do we own the honor?"

You know what he's asking, the name has been stuck in your throat since he first asked, aching to get out like an ich you can't reach. You don't mean to feel as frustrated as you do with them, but you can't help yourself. You shout their names loudly, raising your bat in the air.

"And their little fucking shit talking friends!" Barty completes loudly, because of course he cracked it the moment he saw your state, raising a crow bar in the air, red painting chipped at both ends, you're not sure why or how he came do possess one of those, but you don't question either.

Instead, you swing your bat in the air, smashing the tv screen with a loud noise, glass shattering at your feet. Barty smiles by your side, and for a moment, you forget why you were so upset in the first place.

[anticanonsposts]

heyyyyy

can you do sum with the task force 141 going out to train in a BIG ASS field but Yn used to be a cheerleader so she starts busting out handspring’s and the 141 is just flabbergasted

also I LUV YOUR HEAD CANNONS SM

mwaaa !!

ok yes ofc babe, i did make it slightly könig centric, but still included a few of the other guys 

Cw: none?? sfw allusion to sexual behaviors at the end a little bit so a little nsfw

Sooooo

141 gets to the newest training facility and there happens to be a very large open several acre sized field that you can only imagine is going to be used for some horrific suicide runs or drills of some sort

after everyone gets settled, and trained on what they will be doing when recruits arrive the next day you all go out to the field for lunches

you ofc sit with your affectionately named ‘bunk buddy’ König, who you weren’t officially dating because of fear it might negatively affect your jobs but you guys banged like bunnies and he was completely enamored with you

anyways

you’re minding your own business, eating your sandwich, listening to König ramble on about some new obstacle drill he wants to try out when you hear maybe the cockiest out of the 141, Soap, get a little too noisy

‘Mate there is no way you could do backflips on this terrain….My arse soap!!!’ 

clearly the men a few feet away were having a heated debate on each other’s skill sets

getting a wicked idea, you continue eating your lunch, listening to König, tell yourself that you won’t go there, its not worth it

that is until Ghost gets a little too boisterous saying ‘oh you really think anyone here can do that? That would take years of training dumbass’ he was directing his speech towards Soap and Price but he did say ‘anyone here’ 

calmly you ask König if you can show him something cool, and of course he says yes

So you get up and try to remember a combination that you often did when you were younger during cheer practice 

Taking one last deep breath you perform a mix of front flips, back handsprings, twists, turns, you name it before landing dozens of feet away from where you started

when i say it was silent

it was deafening 

peripherally you could see nearly everyone’s mouth completely agape, other than Ghoast whose jaw is clenched out of what you can only imagine is pure jealousy

it felt good, you won’t lie, to be envied, for your skills to be on display

you felt like you were still having to prove yourself, your worth, your skills for the group 

then with a shit eating grin, not looking at anyone else you sauntered back up to König who had stood up at this point, grabbed his hand and started making your way back to the facility

all you could hear behind you were explanations of ‘bloody hell, oh my god, I can’t believe it, eat shit ghost’

‘You truly are a marvel’ könig says looking down at you, shyly grinning

‘Why don’t i show you other ways I can be that flexible’ you reply which makes this man audibly gulp as you skip with him to your room 

hehe i hope this was at least kind of what you wanted (i truly don’t know shit about the other characters lol) 

that being said, my requests are still open <3333

[clawsdevour]

hi, i love ur fanfics and headcanons <3 i wanted to ask if u can write a fanfic in which reader is in love with Tsukishima, but he's still fictional. reader buys a Tsukishima plushie and one day we find out that the plushie can transform into real Tsukishima. kinda angst at the start but fluff at the end. (im sorry if i didn't explain it correctly, English isn't my first language) no pressure, have a good day/night ❤️

not an illusion

wc: 1.4k content warning: angst, fluff, reader x tsukishima, plushie tsukishima turns into real tsukishima, not proof read, shitty writing

note: thank you soooo much for reading my imagines and headcanons it means so much!! i kind of struggled trying to include a short storyline that included angst, so this may not suit your taste. nevertheless angst, and fluff are still included into this story !!

༉‧₊˚.

Recently you’ve been into this sports anime. Specifically an anime about volleyball, Haikyuu was the name. Your favorite character was no one else but Tsukishima Kei. He’s a tall blonde with glasses, whose position on Karasuno was a middle blocker. He’s a calm and intelligent character which you loved. Your liking towards him grew over time, collecting official merch of him, your profile pictures on social media were all a photo of him. 

Your family thought your interest in Tsukishima Kei to be.. quite odd. Almost like an obsession of this fictional character you loved so much. Whenever they walk into your room, you’re either laughing at a silly TikTok about him or scrolling through photos of him on Pinterest as your room had posters sprawled out on your walls with his drawn out face on it. Sometimes you’d hear your siblings taunt you and call you weird for this which you always brushed off.

“Why are you so obsessed over Tsukishima?? He’s not even real!” Your sibling would shout at you. Of course you ignored their tauntings and mockery.

Deep down you somewhat knew that your liking is a little out of hand, but his character is like a reflection of yourself growing up. Maybe that’s why Tsukishima’s my favorite. Sometimes you can’t help but ponder about why you’re so interested in him as a character throughout the show.

One day you were out at a mall with a friend, specifically in the arcade. A Haikyuu themed claw machine caught your eye. The slogan was kind of cheesy and made you walk up to it as it sparked your curiosity. It read, One chance to collect him! Peering at the plushies at the bottom of the machine, trying to seek out a Tsukishima one. When you spotted his crow with blonde hair and glasses you’re frantically pulling your friend, pointing and showing them Tsukishima out of excitement. There was one left and you needed it in your possession. 

Failure after failure, you’re watching the black bird fall out of your grasp multiple times. Your friend’s watching from the glass, trying to help you move the claw inch by inch to get it in the right position. On your last coin, you had to get him. Holding in your breath as the claw cages the blonde crow, you successfully were able to get it down the slot. Reaching out from under to grab him out, you can’t help but squeal out of joy.

“Oh my gosh!! We did it!! We got Tsukishima!” You’re holding up the crow as you jump up and down, showing your friend who’s beaming with happiness for you. 

“I’m gonna take the best care of this Tsukki plush.. overall I did spend a butt ton of money on coins just for this.” Your friend can’t help but laugh with you as you both headed to the cafeteria of the mall to grab some dinner.

You arrive back home late, trying to not let the door creak loudly while you slowly close it behind you. You’re holding onto the Tsukishima plush with all your might as if someone was gonna take him from you. The door didn’t creak, however the wooden floorboards did. Your loud steps echoed down the hallway all the way to your room, waking up your parents whose room is besides yours. Shit! They’re gonna know I was out late again. Hurriedly tippy toeing back in your bedroom, you let out a sigh of relief when you were able to softly shut your door. That was until you heard a sudden knock, making you jump.

“HEY! We know you just got back home. It’s so late, where did you go off this time??” Your parents were awake and heard the whole thing as they profusely pounded at the entryway of your bedroom. You’re blocking them from entering with your weight on the door, holding your Tsukishima plush tight against your chest wishing this wouldn’t go on longer. Unfortunately they were able to pry open the door using all their might, knocking you down to the floor. You’re absolutely horrified once they start to yell at you.

“What did you do that made you come back home so late? Have you gone insane, it’s basically time for bed! What- what is that..?” Your parents stopped their furious shouting to look at what you’re holding tightly onto. It was the blonde crow that was getting crushed alive by your overwhelming grasp.

“No.. don’t tell me you spent more money on your silly fictional character that you’re so obsessed with. You have to stop this, this fixation you have on a man who isn’t even real is too much, you hear me!?” Their words start to bring you to tears, your eyes were glazed with tears that quickly blurred your vision, creating blobs that fell off and onto your cheeks. Taking all their insults and nasty remarks, you can’t help but start crying hysterically after they left your room to head off to bed.

Setting aside Tsukishima on your bed, you can’t help but curl into a ball to sob for a good long minute. Your eyes felt so dried out the more you wept. Your nose was dripping, making you sniffle every second that passed. A slight shuffle was heard on your bed, you were too caught up in your ears to hear. That was until you felt this warmth radiating around your shoulders.

Looking down you realized, someone was in your room hugging you from behind. Long muscular arms were wrapped around you. W-Who is this? How’d they get into my room?? You’re in total shock and freaked out thinking someone broke in while you were busy letting out all your built up tears, immediately breaking out of the hug to turn behind you. 

It was no one else besides Tsukishima Kei, the tall blonde volleyball character from Haikyuu. Wiping your eyes to make sure you’re seeing things right. How did— How is he real.. is this another illusion? Surely not, his arms were warm and real. You’re backing away, trying to understand the situation that’s taking place, completely baffled.

“Y-You.. you’re. You’re Tsukishima Kei..” your voice was shaking due to all the crying, pointing at him with your quaking finger. You can’t tell if you’re going insane or if you just need to go to bed, or both. 

“Umm.. Hi, are you okay? I saw what your parents did there. Looked harsh.” His low monotone voice spoke at you, he was actually talking. He’s the plushie from the arcade.. this can’t be real, realizing when you looked back at your bed where the blonde crow was missing.

“Uh.. I—yeah. I’m okay. If I can ask.. um, what’s going on here?” Wiping your tears off your wet lashes, your hoarse voice croaks at him in confusion. So much was going on, you were so lost. Your face was hot and wet from crying.

“Well.. you can see that I’m real, erm.. I guess to put it that way” scratching his head, he’s kind of embarrassed to be seen like this. 

“Do you need a hug or something? You look like you could really use it.. from you know, your parents’ shouting,” Tsukishima’s sitting on your bed with his arms slightly open. Seeing you get yelled at for a while made him take pity on your situation. Overall, you just wanted to support the show he was in but purchasing official Haikyuu merchandise and he could tell by the looks of the way you decorated your room. Eyes still glossy, you shuffle towards him, accepting his nice gesture of comfort. 

“This is embarrassing and probably really strange for you too. But thank you. It’s weird to know that I’m hugging a fictional character that I somewhat.. maybe, have a slight obsession with. Thanks.. I-I guess.” You’re speaking into his chest, face buried into his scent. Absorbing his warm embrace he so graciously provided you. Looking up at him, still in disbelief that he’s real. He’s looking down at you with a faint smile.

“I-It’s nothing,” Tsukishima mutters out, looking away with a shy look on his face.

masterlist here

[jackassbrainrot]

nasty new compulsion [dunn x f!reader]

desc: you're a part of the jackass crew. you and ryan are totally just friends ;)

a/n: another ry fic! touchy tease ryan >>>, can't stop writing him and oh my god this is so much longer than I expected it to be I just got sucked into it

warnings: smut, teasing, p in v, unprotected sex

word count: 1129

Being Tremaine's assistant is a pain in the ass, or more accurately, he is. Despite having to listen to him bark out orders the entire day, working on the movie has been fun, especially since meeting Ryan Dunn. He's somehow the most normal of the cast and you two clicked the moment you met. Everyone knew you'd become the best of friends due to Bam's constant bitching about Dunn replacing him. You'd reassure him saying you'd never be as close to Ryan as he was, which was true, but you'd never tell him you were closer in other ways.

You were fumbling with some mics behind a trailer, when you felt Ryan's arms wrap around your waist. He rested his head on your shoulder, his beard scratching your soft skin as he places teasing kisses on your neck. "Aren't you supposed to be filming?" You try to shake him off gently, not wanting to get caught by the others, though you couldn't resist tilting your head to give him more access to your neck. "Mm, no, they're doin' the muscle stimulator thing, they won't be needin' me for a while." You can feel his sly smile against your skin, his lips travelling up your neck to whisper in your ear. "C'mon, I need you."

"Don't say that!" You finally turn around, breaking away from his grip, your voice coming out as a squeak. He chuckles lowly, looking down at you with lust filled eyes as he pushes your body against the trailer. One hand on your waist, the other holding the side of your neck as he kisses down it again, making your breath hitch. The warmth of his body leaves yours suddenly and you look up at him with confusion.

"I mean, if you're not up for it, I guess I'll go join the guys." He's gone before you even get the chance to say anything. You hear Jeff yell your name and you quickly straighten yourself out before getting back to work. For the rest of the day you stare daggers at Dunn, watching him wink at you with a knowing smile across his face.

You're sitting in the passenger seat of Tremaine's car, Knoxville and Kosick in the back, arguing over who knows what. "Hey, Jeff, can you do me a favor?" You ask quietly, trying to keep your conversation far from your other coworkers' ears. "Depends." He replies, suspicion in his voice. "How long do you think you could keep Bam out of his room when we get back to the hotel?" He pauses for a moment before speaking again. "You owe me."

When you get to the hotel, you jump out of the car, smiling at Tremaine before running up the stairs to Dunn and Bam's room. Bam opens the door, a half empty beer bottle hanging from his tattooed hand already. "Jeff told me to come get you." You blurt out before he even gets to say a word and he groans "Now?" He whines, sounding like a teenager whose mom just told him to clean his room. You nod, trying to hide your smile as Ryan steps up behind him. "Go, before he goes all directorzilla on you." Ryan says, earning a groan from the younger man as he walks out of the room. You watch him go down the hallway before Ryan pulls you into his room.

"He's gonna come back in a minute when he realizes Tremaine doesn't actually need him for shit." He says with a smug look on his face, contrasting the hands softly holding your waist. "I asked Jeff to keep him distracted for a bit." A wicked smile spreads over your face as you look up at him, draping your arms around his neck. "Oh, you little minx." He looks down at you, his light eyes dark with lust, as he walks back until his legs hit the bed, sitting down and pulling you onto his lap.

Your lips meet his in a desperate kiss, your hands tangling in his hair. "Aren't you desperate?" He mumbles against your lips as his hands slip under your shirt. "Your fault." You breathe out and he chuckles before unclasping your bra and taking it and your shirt off in one smooth movement.

"Let me make it up to you." He says, flipping you onto your back on the bed. He hovers over you, kissing down your chest as he unbuttons your jeans. You help him take them off and he unhooks the towel hanging around his waist, throwing it across the room. His mouth latches onto your nipple as his fingers rub your clit slowly, making you whine out his name.

Your hand drops down to his hair again, pulling at his golden strands, making him groan. He trails kisses down your torso, sucking a hickey over your hipbone, making you squirm. Going lower, he makes sure to kiss everywhere except your pussy. You let out another whine, trying to push his head down when his movements still, looking up at your desperate expression. "Can't even take a bit of teasing, huh?" He mocks. "I've been taking it the whole day, asshole!" You cry out in frustration.

"Alright, alright." He puts his hands up defensively, kneeling between your legs, wrapping them around his waist. He leans down to kiss you as his dick enters you agonizingly slow, dragging a moan out of your occupied mouth. Your hips buck up but he holds them down, pinning you down on the mattress as he keeps his thrusts slow and deep. "Ry, please, I need you to go faster, please!"

"You need it?" He teases, watching you nod frantically under him. Suddenly you feel yourself getting picked up off the bed as he flips you so you're on top of him. "Take what you need, then." You move your hips at a pace much quicker than his was, holding onto his tattooed arms to keep yourself balanced. His hands roam over your body as he watches you ride him with half lidded eyes.

As you feel your body going taut, tightening around his dick, you lean down to kiss him to silence the scream threatening to slip from your lips. His dick twitches inside you, pushing you over the edge as you moan into his mouth, feeling his cum spill into you. You collapse, falling on his chest.

"I'm not sleeping there, that shit's contaminated!" Bam's scream rings out through the hallway, Knoxville's cackle following right after. Both you and Ryan laugh, lying next to each other, exhausted. "Well, no need to sneak around anymore, huh?" You ask, making him laugh again, before you both fall asleep to the sound of Bam whining about you stealing his best friend and his room.

[starberry-cupcake]

I could have just gone ahead and finished the book, but I adult life is interrupting so I stopped mid-fight and that's what you're getting, since I think it'll be a more sensible length this way.

previously, in gideon the ninth

this happened (also, this is the tag for all of the stuff)

currently, somewhere before ending the penultimate chapter, I think:

WELL, WELL, WELL

GUESS WHO WAS RIGHT ABOUT DULCINEA DEL TOBOSO SORAYA MONTENEGRO SEPTIMUS

I GOT YOU, BITCH

YOU DIDN'T GET PAST ME

ok, let's back it up a bit, but I needed to get that out of my chest for a sec

out of my guts, like the key she hid in the 5th necro bride's body

(too soon)

anyway, after yandere simulator w/inner chad left the room, gideon, harrowbean and my qp wife realized palmolive was gone

and everyone knows where he went because his dick has been a compass the whole time

or, like gideon puts it, he's been a weenie

camilla, the light in the dark, the sun to my moon, tells gideon and harrow that palmolive has been corresponding with dulcinea since he was like 8 and she was like 15 and he's been in love with her the whole time

and that he's made his lifelong purpose to save her life

there are many levels of Issues here

but at this point, we don't have time to unpack any suitcases

all this just proves to me that camilla has been carrying all the weight of the world on her shoulders even more, but anyway

they also feel confused as to why dulcinea has been ghosting palmolive massively since HE PROPOSED TO HER

palmolive, my man, my dude, just...what the fuck is your life

what are you doing, my guy

anyway, I immediately started thinking some soul possessing or some stuff like that could be going on, like she's not herself, but there's no time to theorize much

gideon feels terrible because she's been flirting with dulcinea in front of palmolive's salad all along and says something like "why do I have to be so attractive?" to which harrow answers something like "if you weren't, people would deck you after 5 minutes" which is a very good read

so gideon goes to find palmolive and he stops her with necro magic and enters dulcinea's room and outs her as the murderer

who is surprised??? not me, of course

so, basically, ducinea The Real One died at some point before arriving like protozoa, and this bitch here is a previous lyctor whose name I cannot remember so we will call her not!dulcinea

the real dulcinea was the other roasted body in the furnace

and protozoa was killed by her also which, again, the sword through the heart was a good indicator it wasn't an accident, but harrow was the only one who saw the body

non!dulcinea is a lyctor of the seventh that served the emperor and did the soul slurping thingy and already has her cav within her ("inside her" sounds...not great)

and she wanted to stir some shit up to get the man of the hour to show up and get revenge and whatnot

the emperor, coming back to canaan house from some holidays that took longer than he expected

it's not totally clear, because there's still a lot we don't know, but it sounds a bit like a toxic relationship with an authority figure

palmolive then proceeds to immolate himself like superman going super solar flare, but not being able to heal himself after, unlike superman

after that, all hell breaks loose

not!dulcinea tries to kill gideon

camilla tries to kill not!dulcinea

harrow also enters the fight and brings gideon's sword

like, the real one

you can hear the audience cheering when she catches her sword like it was filmed in front of a live studio audience

gideon and harrow team up against the mega massive monster junji ito concoction that killed isaac

they do the mind mesh thingy

harrow unlocks a new power

like in the sims

she also passes out for a bit

gideon gets her knee and shoulder fucked up

camilla is amazing and does amazing things

non!dulcinea seems to be too tough to win against

yandere simulator twin w/inner chad enters the chat

they fight like goku and vegeta for a while but non!dulcinea ends up using her like a battery

which is, to me, the revenge of duracell bunny nephew from beyond the veil or wherever he went

like, poetic cinema fate

I have no idea where regina george twin is at this point

last we saw of her, she was crying in a corner

which, mood tbh

so, where I left off for now, we've got three survivors accounted for: gideon, harrowbean and my qp wife, there's a lost twin somewhere in there and then there's yandere simulator twin being used as a charging pad by non!dulcinea

I want to take a moment to point out something, though

I want to briefly point out how MASSIVELY FUCKED UP EVERYONE WAS COMING INTO THIS

like, harrow was "oh no, we mustn't let people know you're not actually my cavalier and that I puppeteered my parents and that there's a frozen barbie in the ninth" and gideon was "oh no, I mustn't let people know I'm not a ninth cav and I don't use a rapier and I have a complicated relationship with my necro"

and everyone else LITERALLY EVERYONE ELSE WAS BEYOND FUCKED UP

maybe the second weren't because they were ignorant asshats, but EVERYONE WAS MESSED UP

NOBODY HERE WAS FINE

you got the third, with a non necro princess and a feral real necro doing the work of both and chad as their support, look how that turned out so far

the fourth, who weren't tall enough to reach the top shelf and weren't even allowed their keys

the fifth who knew too much so they were goners after throwing a party

the sixth, with a guy who had the hots for a woman twice his age that he had a grey's anatomy fantasy to save that powered his entire reason to be there (and a cav who didn't use the right equipment but is great 10/10 no notes)

the seventh, who's THIS MESS

and the eight, who were doing the creepiest thing possible at all times and couldn't even do it properly

the only ones here who came in without dirty laundry were the second and that's why they were easy targets

everyone else was shady af

the best reality show you've ever watched

anyway, see you for the next one when we'll know who wins between one old lyctor and 3 bad bitches (or 4, if yandere twin is still alive, or 5 if regina george twin shows up again)

[meaninglessrambles]

everything has changed.

ship: spencer agnew x reader.

summary: you move in next door to spencer.

warnings: none!

author’s note: not at all what i was meant to be working on but, hey, when inspiration strikes… kinda went into this with the idea that neighbor!reader may be a recurring character, so if there’s any scenarios you wanna see, let me know. 

'cause all i know is we said, "hello" and your eyes look like comin' home.

the first time you meet your neighbor, it’s with a plate of homemade chocolate chip cookies and a smile on your face. you’re nervous—desperate, really, to make a good first impression and worried one last minute gathering will ruin it—but damn near giddy at the idea of meeting someone new. always the people person, you look at every introduction as the chance to make a friend.

you knock, confident, loud, and if possible, your grin gets bigger when the door slowly opens and a man appears, angling himself so carefully in the entry way you have to assume there’s at least one pet lurking behind him. “hi! i just moved in next door.”

“hello?” it’s more of a question than a greeting.

you continue on, undeterred. “and i wanted to introduce myself.” which you did—finding out the person whose night you interrupted was named spencer—but that wasn’t your only goal. “there is one more thing…”

“okay…” spencer breathes. he’s not trying to be rude—really, he’s not—but it’s been a long week and he’s tired and you’re far too pretty to just show up at his door like this. 

“i’m having a few people over.”

that get’s his attention. “you’re having a party?” with the quirk of a brow, he really studies you now—he’d been keeping strong eye contact until this moment—if you’re not exactly his age, you’re close enough he would have expected you to age out of apartment ragers a decade ago.

“worse, actually,” you admit, almost sheepish. “having some friends over for the real housewives of oc premiere and, uh, bravo really brings out the worst in us.” you just your chin towards the cookies. “these are a bribe.”

“ah,” he nods. “cookies in exchange for no noise complaints.” a pause. “i like your style, dude. i’m no narc but since you’re offering…” he pulls the plate gently from your grip.

well, at least that was one less thing to worry about. “enjoy!” you turn, ready to go back to your place, and give him a quick wave. “see you around!”

“yeah,” he says, “see you around!”

─────────────────────────────

and you do see him around. you give polite smiles and quick hellos when you pass each other in the halls or run into each other in the mail room. but you don't really talk to him again until a week later.

you'd just step into the lobby when you hear a familar voice yell, "shut that door! don't let her out."

you come to a stop right as a big blur of fur comes running right at you, careening off your shins and bouncing back. you don't give the cat even a chance to do it again; with ease, you scoop the feline up, doing your best to be gentle while keeping it restrained.

it's only seconds later that spencer comes into view, curls dishelved, breathing labored and cheeks pink. chasing a four-legged friend down three flights of stairs will do that to a person.

"shit, thank you, seriously," spencer says once he catches his breath, extending his arms so you can give the little escape artist back to her rightful owner. "you're an actual life saver. if she had gotten out..."

he doesn't even need to finish the sentence. while work kept you too busy for a pet of your own right now, you'd grown up with them. losing one was akin to losing a family member.

you reach out, meaning to give a comforting pat on the shoulder, but your hand rests there a little longer than you intended. when spencer's eyes meet yours, for a minute you forget what your intentions even were.

you'd hadn't touched him before—why would you? he's just the guy in the apartment next to yours.

you blink.

once.

twice.

then a distraught meow pulls you back to reality and you shake your head. "no sense in thinking about the what-ifs. just get houdini back under lock and key, yeah?"

the two of you make your way up three flights of stairs. the whole time you're silent, while spencer mutters sentiments ranging from intense frustration to deep relief to the cat who, with his attention solely on her, seems quite content.

─────────────────────────────

when you part ways at your respective doors, you expect this to be the last of it. until spencer shows up at your door the very next day, your plate in hand, with some precariously placed brownies on top.

"hey, uh, just wanted to return your plate and the favor after you thwarted zola's escape attempt yesterday." he's a little nervous, a little on edge. "and don't worry, i didn't make these so they're edible."

"you really didn't have to do that," you assure him, although you're glad he did.

"actually, i'm pretty sure i did. and i still owe you, like, a million favors after this too."

you laugh at that. "you really, really don't. that's just what neighbors do."

"well, still... thank you."

with yet another expression of gratitude, silence falls over the two of you and you can sense with it's arrival, spencer is getting ready to say his goodbyes. before he can, you surprise even yourself by asking, "do you like thai food?"

when you get a nod of the head in affirmation, you continue on. "'cause i've got a delivery coming any minute now and i think i went a little crazy. if you're hungry..."

you've never needed help finishing takeout before, but you decided right then in that very moment, that you would like his company just a little bit longer.

"you got some pad thai coming?" spencer's first reaction is an immediate yes and he has to say something, anything, to sound less eager.

"duh."

"in that case, hell yeah i'm hungry."

that's all you need to hear. you step aside, giving him access to your humble abode and shut the door behind him.

in all the places you've lived, you've never once invited a neighbor over—let alone for a meal. it's about time that changed.

all i know is a simple name, everything has changed.

[honeeslust]

Toji…

Toji whose a menace and a killer and has the emotional availability of a potato. but that doesnt mean he doesn't know when he's got something good.

Toji who really didn't know what the fuck were you even talking about. Some shit about how he's incapable of love and affection. That was the dumbest shit he ever heard. He was absolutely sure of the exact moment he knew he'd never let you go. From the moment gushy lil cunt sucked him in deep until he could feel himself knocking you're Mirena loose, he knew for sure he could never let a pussy as sublime as yours get away.

Toji who's not accepting what you're saying to him. You don't love me Toji…clearly, you need reminding that you're his. Doesn't matter if he can't give you what you're asking for. You're the only pretty little thing he wants wrapped around his cock. Isn't that enough?

Toji who gets in your face and reminds you why you put up with his shit. His dick game changes the way you walk and you love it.

Toji who needs to give you a dose of that act right so he fucks you until you’re too swollen and abused to move. Not that you needed any strength to do so. Because it's...

Toji who handles yo thick ass easily. tossing your body to the mattress so he can mount you like the beast his is.

Toji who forces your legs so far back to the bed until your chubby stomach is hunched in behind your thick thighs. The position hinders your ability to breath... Which is perfect because now you're so completely fucked out of your mind that you’re incapable of spewing all that bullshit about how you’re not sure he’s the right one for you.

Toji who thinks Fuck that shit. When he slide his tongue over that fat wet mound between your parted legs. Savoring the taste of your attitude melting away with every flick of his tongue.

Toji who bullies his cock back into you. Making your teeth gnash and your voice change while you groan like a feral cat….Yet another orgasm tearing you in half as he taunts you.

Toji who’s pissed youd ever even thing of trying to take that pussy away from him.

Toji who’s driving that heavy cock in and out of you with such purpose. Your pleaful whines for him to slow down only making him meaner. He has something to prove. Toji who’s shutting you up with his lips on yours. Pulling away only to look you in the eye and sneer at you… Dont you fucking move… Oh you want me slow down princes?? Hmm. Too fuckin bad. Shut up and let me fix you… You don't really wanna go anywhere, you just needed daddys dick…

Toji who’s going feral as he drags his hips back, snapping them tight against yours. His composure slipping with every thrust, a throaty rendition of your name spilling from his lips along with his I love the way you take this dick or I love the way you squeeze me like that. Everything but what you wanted to hear.

Toji who loves how your pussy wrings so tight around his cock that he almost says it. Those three little words that wouldn't change a damn thing. Three little words that hold no meaning compared to the way he feels about you. Love isn't strong enough a word. Even if its all you need to hear to know your not just some girl who fucks into oblivion on the regular. he’s him so instead of just coming out and telling you he loves you hell knudge his dick into that spot. torturing you with how easily he can ruin you. Reveling in the wake of your undoing.

Toji who’s digging deep in that gushy lil pussy. Bottoming out just to see the way you whine when yoi feel him filling you with his seed.

Toji who won't pull out. He needs his cum to stay right where it is.

Toji who grabs your thighs and wraps then around his hips. A brute through and through, shifting his hips to drive his dick so deep you squeal.

Toji who kisses you hard. Sucking your lower lip into his mouth and cleaning up the drool that ran down your cheek with his tongue.

Toji who‘s barely satiated. Grinning down at your fucked out expression. He clutches your pretty face, his thick fingers digging into your cheek, his dick still embebedded in your warm embrace when he tells you to quit ya worryin lil mama. You're my obsession. And that kind of love never fades. Do you hear me?

Yea… I think that's the best you're getting outta him lol. What you think?

Haven't tagged anyone in a while…🥴

Hey yall☺️

@littlemochabunni @blkkizzat @biscuitsngravie @ryomens-vixen @i-literally-cant-with-this @thecookiebratz @residentfromnowhere @crescentmoontsuki