#if i had to keep all my thinking inside to myself i would pop like a firecracker. play spark NOW.

[carmenpeach]

the nights -> sonic -> spark interest slide. balan is there too but like to the left

[gloomwitchwrites]

Per a suggestion from an Ao3 follower:

A/N: I had a lot of fun with this one. It's silly. It's a little mean, but really all in good fun. I did try to keep on theme with the requester's suggestions about the guys. Anyways, enjoy!!

Presented in four double drabbles.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Reader (can be read as gn!reader)

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): brief swearing, domestic fluff, established relationship, brief suggestive themes

Word Count: 800

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

“Sorry, love. But I need you to repeat that.”

You clear your throat, putting more strength behind your voice. “I would like you to step out of the bedroom.”

John crosses his arms over his chest. He leans forward a bit, amused. “And why is that?”

“I’m changing.”

“I don’t believe it,” he mutters, more to himself than to you.

“I want privacy. And I would like it if you stepped out.”

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” you shrug.

John’s mouth opens slightly like he’s about to say something—but promptly shuts it, exhaling loudly. “Okay. I’ll go.” He starts to walk away but then turns around. “I’ll be right outside.”

“Thank you, John.”

He shakes his head as he exits. You wait a few seconds, before testing what he said.

“John?”

He promptly returns, standing inside the door. “Yes?”

“Just making sure.”

“Fucking hell,” he mutters just loud enough for you to hear.

Once you’re dressed, you go out into the hall, and find him leaning against the wall. His neck twists slowly, his gaze pivoting to you. There is a bland, mostly unamused expression on John’s face.

“What?” you ask, all innocence.

“Never ask me that again.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“Kyle?”

“Yeah, love?”

“Could you step out?”

Kyle turns. “Step out? Step out where? To the store?”

“No,” you laugh. “The bedroom.”

“Why?”

“I’m changing.”

Kyle blinks. “For what reason?”

“I’m changing.”

He shrugs. “You change in front of me all the time.”

“Yes. But right now, I want to be alone.”

Kyle completely turns in your direction, arms crossed over his chest, concern creasing his brow. “Is that what you want, love?”

“Yes.”

He doesn’t look happy, but he starts to make an exit.

“Are you okay?” he asks suddenly, turning on his heel.

“I’m fine,” you tell him.

Kyle starts to pivot back to the bedroom door but stops. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No.”

Kyle’s gaze narrows. “Are you hurt?” he asks, tone soft. And then, with a little growl in it, “Did someone hurt you?”

“No, Kyle. I’m fine. Really. I just want privacy.”

Frowning, he takes one step backward. “Everything is fine?”

“Everything is fine,” you confirm.

With another nod, Kyle leaves the room.

You think you’re alone, but then you hear his voice from out in the hallway.

“Is it a new outfit?”

“No.”

Silence. Then, “It’s not my birthday.”

“No, Kyle. It’s not.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

“Can you leave the room?”

Johnny turns, his toothbrush sticking out of his mouth. “What?”

“I need to change,” you reply. “Could you leave?”

The middle of his brow furrows. He pops the toothbrush out of his mouth. “Serious?”

“Yes,” you affirm.

“Why?” he asks.

“I need to change, Johnny!”

“So?” he counters, and then, with a sultry voice, “I’ve seen you naked.”

“I want privacy.”

He laughs softly, and promptly plops himself onto the edge of the bed. “No. Staying right here.”

“Johnny.”

“I’ll close my eyes.” He returns the toothbrush to his mouth, crossing his arms over his chest. “See? Not looking.”

He does close his eyes.

“Promise?”

“Promise,” he says.

As you remove your robe and begin to reach for the first article of clothing, you glance over at Johnny. One of his eyelids is open. He’s sneaking a peek.

“Johnny,” you scold, smacking his arm.

He smirks, returning to his original state.

You put on the next piece of your outfit. This time, Johnny steals a quick touch.

“Johnny!”

His eyes pop open and then he leans back on the bed, muscles on full display. “Couldn’t help myself,” he replies with a shrug and cheeky grin.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

“Simon?”

“Hm?”

“Could—could you leave for a moment?” You put some nervousness in your voice.

Simon is fresh out of the shower. Water droplets still remain on his skin. A crisp, white towel is wrapped around his hips, but it looks so small on him compared to his large frame.

“Leave?” he asks, turning in your direction.

“Yes. I need to change.”

The corners of his mouth turn downward. “To change?”

“I would like it if you left the room while I dress.”

Simon blinks but his features don’t change. “We just had sex. And you want me to step out of the room?”

“That is what I’m saying,” you affirm with a nod of your head.

He shrugs. “Okay.”

Without hesitating, Simon exits the bedroom. He doesn’t come back in or attempt to steal a glance. You’re completely alone, left to do whatever it is you need to.

Once you’re dressed, you call out to Simon. “I’m done.”

You hear is heavy footfalls, and then he returns. “Good?”

“Yes.”

He nods. “I’d like you to leave now.”

“You—what?”

This time, Simon smirks as he reaches for the towels tied at his hips. “You make me nervous, love.”

taglist:

@glitterypirateduck @km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus @beebeechaos

@no-oneelsebutnsu @smileykiddie08 @whisperwispxx @chaostwinsofdestruction @weasleytwins-41

@enarien @saoirse06 @unhinged-reader-36 @ravenpoe67 @sageyxbabey

@mudisgranapat @lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza

@nishim @voids-universe @iloveslasher @talooolaaloolla @sadlonelybagel

@haven-1307 @itsberrydreemurstuff @spicyspicyliving @cod-z @keiva1000

@littlemisscriesherselftosleep @blackhawkfanatic @sammysinger04 @kylies-love-letter @suhmie

@dakotakazansky @kadeeesworld @umno-yeah @daemondoll @jackrabbitem

@lxblm @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez @ash-tarte @spookyscaryspoon

[nerdy-novelist017]

i'm so in love with your little bunny series and i'm so glad you're writing for benny! i was wondering if you could write something about reader being a yapper, always talking a lot about things with so much excite and benny finds this the most cutest thing ever, but one day someone says that she's annoying for that, which makes her feel very self conscious and she starts to think that benny might feel the same since he's a very much quiter person, and benny assures her that is not the case? just fluffy and comfort to warm my heart <3 thank you already!

Anon, this is literally the cutest request ever omg!!! Thank you for the request, I had so much fun writing this! I paired this as another one shot for my Benny x Bunny series, hope you enjoy!

Word Count- 2k+

Summary- See request above.

Sweet Talking (Benny Cross x Shy!Reader)

You pressed a kiss to Benny’s cheek, whispering to him that you’d be right back as you stood and made your way around the bonfire. You pulled Benny’s jacket tighter around you to fend off the chilly evening air on your trek back to the house. The night was still young, the sun having just set an hour ago and these bikers would be up until the sunrise, all having caught their second wind from the race held earlier in the fields. The loudness of the bikes and the sheer excitement from the crowds was something you were still trying to get used to, but you found that you actually liked talking to these people. Once they included you in their conversations and picked topics that you could relate to as well, you found yourself talking a lot more than you ever have in your life. They laughed at your jokes, they called out to you when they saw you approaching, they really seemed to just adopt you into their club. You supposed, in the beginning, a majority of that was from Benny probably intimidating some members into being nice to you, but regardless of that, they still seemed to enjoy your company and your silly stories and random facts – especially the women of this club. 

Stepping through the back door, you were immediately greeted by the scent of cigarette smoke and booze, things you were also still trying to get used to. Several members were lounging on the couch, smoking and talking as you passed them on your way to the kitchen. You went to the fridge, opening it and lowering yourself to search for a cold pop for yourself. Voices filtered into your vicinity from the adjacent dining room. Just as you grab another beer for Benny, your ears perked up when you heard your name being said in passing and you froze behind the refrigerator door. 

“–She does have a sweet piece of ass on her though,” a male voice, sounding muffled most likely by a cigarette hanging from his lips. You smiled to yourself, biting your lip. You probably shouldn’t be listening to this, but curiosity rooted you to your spot as you tried peeking over the door to catch a look at who was speaking. 

“Jesus Christ, you can’t get her to shut up anymore.” another voice replied, much deeper and raspier than the first. “I miss when she would just stand there shaking like a leaf, all nervous and quiet.”

“Would it even be worth it to hit that? C’mon man, she’d gab your fucking ear off during it, totally kill the mood for me.”

Your smile slowly at their words, heart sinking. You should get up and leave, you told yourself. But you couldn’t force your legs to move.

“I’d put that mouth of hers to work on something else,” the first man said, chuckling darkly. You squeezed your eyes shut at the insinuation. 

“Don’t know how Benny–boy puts up with it. I’d have to gag her just to hear myself think–”

You stand abruptly, unable to listen to anymore of their hurtful words. Using a bit more force than you intended, you slammed the fridge door shut, the glass bottles rattling harshly inside from the force. Tears stung your eyes as you rushed back through the living room to the backdoor. You paused once you rounded the side of the house, sniffing in order to keep the tears at bay. They were just drunk assholes, you tried to tell yourself. Who cares what they think of you? 

But a few traitor tears escaped your lashes at the thought of Benny finding you annoying too. Benny– that quiet, easy-spoken man who you loved with everything in you. That quiet man who maybe didn’t like how you squealed with excitement when you saw someone you knew from across the room. That quiet man who maybe didn’t like when you giggled loudly at jokes told around the bonfire. That quiet man who was your exact opposite.

******

Benny could tell there was something wrong the second you came into view again, your figure illuminated by the orange flames of the bonfire as you moved to sit back down by him. Your hands were shoved in the pockets of his jacket, head tucked low. And beside him? It was rare that you didn’t sit on his lap anymore. 

You handed him a beer and he tried to catch your eyes because was that tears he saw coating your lashes? But you avoided his gaze, instead curling into his side and that’s how you stayed for the rest of the night, quiet as a mouse, until you eventually tugged on his sleeve and asked if you could go home. The ride home was also weird. You didn’t tap his shoulder and point to things that interested you like you normally did on the back of his bike. You stayed glued to his back, silent. 

Benny watched, brow furrowed, as you went about your nighttime routine in silence, the house you shared no longer filled with your usual chatter. He sat on the edge of the bed, wracking his brain with the possibilities of you being upset with him. (The silent treatment was often a go-to method of torture you used when Benny pissed you off) but he was at a loss. Something had to have happened when you left the bonfire. Anxiety spiked through him at the thought that maybe someone had done something to you, but no, you would have told him. He made you promise to always talk to him if someone at the club was bothering you. 

You changed into your nightgown and Benny’s heart squeezed at the sight of you avoiding his gaze once again as you turned and began brushing out your pin curls in the mirror. 

“Did you have a good time tonight?” he asked, unable to bare another second of your silence. 

“Mh-hm.” Came your short reply.

Benny swallowed. You were definitely upset. “You seem . . . quiet.”

That was definitely the wrong thing to say because you’re shoulders stiffened for a moment and he thought you might turn around and throw your brush at him. But instead, you responded in a small voice, “Just tired.”

He frowned. He’d seen you when you were tired, this was something else. He tried a different tactic. “Tell me about your day, Bunny.” 

You shrugged. “Not much happened.”

“Well, tell me about it. I wanna hear it.” He tried to catch your eyes as you put the brush down and stepped away from the vanity.

“Well, maybe I don’t wanna talk about it? I just want to go to bed, Benny.” you tried to move past him to go to your side of the bed but Benny reached out gently tugged on the hem of your nightgown, stopping you.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, looking up at you. 

You nodded, but still refused to make eye-contact.

“What’s wrong?” he questioned. “Did someone do something to you tonight?”

You shook your head quickly and relief swept through him. “No, no. Nothing like that.”

His hands slid up to your hips and he pulled you closer to him. “Talk to me, Bunny. Please. I don’t understand what’s wrong.”

You swallowed, chin wobbling slightly. “Nothing happened . . . I just–I overheard some guys talkin’ is all.”

He remained silent and you continued hesitantly. “When I went to get a drink . . . they didn’t know I was there. And–and I should have left as soon as I heard them talking but . . .”

“What were they saying?”

You clenched your jaw and gave him a distressed look. 

He squeezed your hips encouragingly. “What were they saying?”

“It doesn’t matter–”

“It does to me,” he was quick to say. 

“They . . . they were talkin’ about how I talk . . . a lot. They said it was annoying. They were saying crude things about using my mouth for . . . other things.” you said slowly, voice wavering and you looked down in embarrassment.

Benny nodded and breathed out of his nose, counting to ten in his head to cool his suddenly white hot anger which bloomed in his chest. He had worked so hard to get you to feel comfortable around the club, to get you to come out of your shell and now someone had something to say about his girl—his sweet shy girl—talking? “Who was it?”

“Oh, Benny–” You pulled back from him. “Don’t go saying anything to them!”

“Why not?” He planned to do much more than talk to them.

“Because!” you cried, your voice going an octave higher. “That would make it worse! Besides, they’re–they’re right anyway.”

“Right about what?” he asked, bewildered at how they could possibly know you like he did.

“Well, I do talk a lot. A–and I know it can be annoying for someone who’s a lot more quiet.” 

“Annoying?” He laughed at the inaccuracy of that statement and you must have thought he was laughing at you because you took a big step back from him, out of his reach.

“I just don’t want to embarrass you,” you murmured, looking down at the carpet below you. 

Benny’s stomach fluttered apprehensively. There had been only a few times in his life where he wished he was better at talking, at communicating his feelings. He wanted to console you, to reassure you, that you could never be annoying or embarrassing to him. He wanted to tell you just how much you gave him purpose and helped him in his life. How you were his life. This was one of those times. 

He rose from the bed and approached you passively, trying to gather his thoughts. “I like when you talk. When we spend the day apart, I look forward to hearing about your day and what you did and what you saw while I was gone. And when we’re riding and you point to the little things like the flowers on the sidewalk or the sunsets, I like that. I really like that. And when you tell stories, you get so immersed and you start talking with your hands, I like that too. You’re so friendly to everyone, no matter what they look like or how well you know them and that’s one of my favorite things about you. You talkin’ could never embarrass me, Bunny, because it’s one of the reasons I love you.”

Tears welled up in your doe-eyes and he swallowed nervously. “Why are you crying?”

Suddenly, you were pressed so tightly to his chest, face burying into his shirt, hands holding onto him with such grip that Benny stumbled. He recovered quickly, wrapping his arms around your small frame.

“Oh, Benny,” you choked up. “You’re so sweet!” 

He wasn’t so sure about that, maybe only when it came to you. He sure as hell wasn’t going to be so sweet to those guys that spoke about you like that. He’d take a trip tomorrow to visit them personally, but for tonight, he belonged to you. He’d discovered that about himself from your relationship, from you. Even though he wanted to do things right when he wanted to, he couldn’t always. That’s what love was, putting others’ needs before your own. And tonight, you needed him, so he would be here.

His hands found your jaw and he tilted your head back to press a kiss to your forehead. “Will you come lay with me and tell me about your day?”

You nod, sniffing and Benny nearly melted at the smile you gave him. That was the smile he’d come to recognize as the one you had reserved for only him. Soft, sweet and totally perfect in every way. He pulled you gently back to bed and relished as you curled up against him. His heart was filled with warmth as he listened to you chatter on about your day and your friends and your thoughts, anything that came to mind. He’d ask questions every once in a while to keep you going, but he mostly stayed quiet, because to him, you were so captivating and cute. You both talked throughout the night, you slowly getting lower and lower into his side until finally falling asleep, your conversation temporarily paused until the morning.

-Tag List-

@imusicaddict  @elizabeth916  @jaiuneamesolitaiire  @dudii4love @ironmooncat  @beebeechaos  @astrogrande  @pearlparty  @themorriganisamonster  @sillylittlethrowaway  @ughdontbeboring  @penwieldingdreamer  @charmingballoon  @eugene-emt-roe  @sunnbib @semperamans  @groovyangelkisses  @killerqueenfan @cynic-spirit  @pomtherine  @tranquilty  @m00npjm  @twisteduniverse5  @justsomewritingblog  @nhlfs  @thepassionatereader  @rebecca-hvnstn  @nethanybear @dreamlandcreations  @buckysteveloki-me  @simsiddy  @zablife  @sansaorgana  @autumnleaves1991-blog  @charmingballoon  @butler-trouble @lindszeppelin @jaiuneamesolitaiire  @wavyjassy @real-lana-del-rey  @cynic-spirit @pomtherine  @ilovehyperfixating  @xcallmetaniax  @lovenewfandoms  

[mrsshabana]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞

꒦꒷‧₊ Content Mr. Crawling x gender!neutral!reader, fluff ꒦꒷‧₊ Note 800 words. I wrote this just now, I wasn't planning on writing for him so soon but I couldn't help myself. I hope those of you that know of him enjoy it. ♡

It all started at those stupid abandoned apartments. Your friends dared you to go in, and for some reason you did it. Sure it was spooky inside but there really wasn't any threat. Only when you got lost and wandered around the building for hours, trying to find an exit. 

While you were in the building you felt like someone was watching you. Occasionally spotting a shadow moving out of the corner of your eye, or hearing the sound of something shuffling on the floor. 

However, even after you left the building, you still felt like someone was watching you—every second of every day. This feeling was stronger while you were at home, but it would linger out in public, too. 

It was strongest though when you were trying to go to sleep. In your bedroom, with the lights off, and no sound but the night outside your window. You tried to ignore it, not let it get to you, but you'd be lying if you said it hadn't kept you awake most nights. Only falling asleep when your fatigue was too much to ignore. 

And tonight was no different. You lay in your bed desperately trying to get some rest but the feeling of someone else in your room keeps you awake. 

“You okay?” a strange voice calls to you from the darkness. You have no idea what it said but you're certain you couldn't have imagined the sound. 

You shoot up from your bed to see where the sound came from, but you don't see anyone. 

“H-Hello?” you mutter in a shaky voice.

Suddenly a head pops up from beside your bed, “Hello!” A high-pitched giggle emits from the creature's mouth, a sound that doesn't match its appearance. 

The head rises, and it grips the side of your bed with cold-looking hands. Pulling itself onto the bed with its arms instead of standing up and climbing on normally. 

You scream at the sight, instinctively backing away.

The creature frowns, “You scared?” it says as it retreats slightly, “Me sorry.” It has an apologetic tone in its voice, but it's speaking some kind of language you're unable to understand.

It doesn't come closer, staying at a distance so as to not startle you further. As the panic slowly subsides, you take a closer look at the creature. 

It looks like a man, but his hair is extremely long. Stark black and has a silky straight texture - hanging in front of his face and covering his eyes. Though you can see blood on his skin where it looks like his eyes should be. His skin is pale grey, and void of any warmth. And his clothes, though hard to see since he hasn't stood yet, appear to be a tattered black Yukata perhaps? 

He stares back at you with a wide grin. It's that smile that makes him look creepy and inhuman. Though not entirely unfriendly. 

“Wh-who are you?” you whimper, “What do you want?”

He tilts his head to the side like a curious puppy. It seems like he doesn't understand what you're saying. 

“Me not hurt you,” he smiles, reaching out his hand to pat your head. 

You flinch at his touch, not sure what he just said or what his intentions are. Though he doesn't seem malicious. He may look scary but he hasn't shown any hostility when he's certainly had the opportunity to. 

“Um,” you try to think of what to say to him, “Are you the one that's been watching me?”

“...?” he tilts his head again.

“N-Never mind,” you smile awkwardly, “Erm, I'm going to go to sleep, ok? You can sleep on the couch if you want to stay…”

You put your hands together and make a sleeping motion on your pillow, trying to tell him you want to sleep. 

“Rest?” he looks at the pillow then back to you, “Alright. We rest!”

With a smile he lays his head on the pillow next to yours, looking at you expectantly. 

“N-No! I mean - you can sleep on the couch, not in my bed!” 

He just smiles, your words going in one ear and out the other. 

“Ok, fine,” you sigh and lay down beside him, “You can sleep here I guess…”

You try to sleep, but you can feel him staring at you. And when you open your eyes to see that wide smile of his, it doesn't help. So you turn around, facing your back to him. “G-Goodnight,” you mutter. 

“You rest bed… Me rest bed,” he mumbles, “Me grateful.”

You don't know what he just said, but for some reason, you feel safer with him by your side. Who or what he is is still a mystery. For all you know, this could just be another dream.

But a part of you really hopes that it isn't…

[corroded-hellfire]

Food, Football, and Friends - Eddie Munson x Reader

An As You Wish story

Summary: With so many people coming over for Thanksgiving dinner, it's no surprise things get a little chaotic.

Note: Happy Thanksgiving!

Warnings: chaos that is typical of this family, Eddie's breeding kink doesn't take a holiday off, Dustin is married to someone that is not Suzy sorry

Words: 3.7k

[As You Wish masterlist]

Not bothering to knock, Steve opens the front door to the Munson household and pops his head inside.

“This looks like a nice house,” he says as he pushes the door all the way open. “Might be able to steal something nice.”

A huff comes from behind him and Mia pushes in the house past her father. The six-year-old scowls as she leans down to unbuckle her shiny Mary Janes.

“We’re not thieves!” Her voice carries throughout the house, summoning the little person who has been waiting all day to see her.

“Miaaaaaa!” Eliza’s heavy tread thumps down the hallway as she runs into the living room at full speed. The friction of her white tights against the carpet halts her when she reaches her destination. 

Before Mia can answer, Steve crouches down in front of the youngest Munson. He frowns and tilts his head, a few chestnut locks falling in his eyes.

“What about me? Am I chop liver?” 

Your toddler giggles and leaps into her uncle’s arms. She wraps her arms around his neck for a hug, but before she can pull away, Steve stands up, hoisting her over his shoulder in an attempt to keep her from her best friend.

“Noooo!” Eliza whines, her little legs kicking. 

“Oh, fine,” Steve sighs as he lets her down.

Eliza straightens her black and white dress before looking up to see Wayne walk in the door right behind Nancy.

“Grandpa!”

“There’s my girl!”

Wayne scoops her up and peppers kisses all over her face. The small girl giggles and tries to push his face away, his scruff tickling her.

“Where’s Daddy?” Wayne asks.

“Dunno,” Eliza answers with a shrug.

“He’s outside,” Luke says as he strolls into the room.

Nancy can’t help but notice how her youngest’s face lights up when the twelve-year-old Munson walks into the room. She clamps her lips together, trying not to giggle at Mia’s adorable crush on Luke, acting like she doesn’t notice the hearts in the young redhead’s eyes.

“Should we lock him out?” Steve asks about your husband.

Wayne sighs. “Eh, he’s scrappy, he’ll find a way back in,” he says as he sets Eliza back down. 

The moment her feet hit the ground, the toddler runs over to Mia and throws her arms around the girl’s sparkly silver dress. Concentration on Luke broken, Mia laughs and falls to the ground with Eliza, giving her a hug in return. 

“Yeah,” Steve says as he watches the girls. “I think the little munchkin would let him in.” He nods towards Eliza.

“She can’t reach the door,” Danny points out to his dad.

“Eliza finds a way to do anything,” Luke says, his tone conveying all the experience he’s had in that regard.

Before anyone else can add to the conversation, the sound of clinking and clanging pots and pans rings out from the kitchen. Automatically, everyone's heads turn in that direction. 

“Shit!” Your voice echoes out into the living room.

Immediately, Nancy brushes past her husband, patting him on the chest as she goes by.

“Play nice,” she tells him as she continues into the kitchen. The sight before Nancy has her biting her lip to keep in a grin for the second time in a matter of minutes. There you stand, holding a pot lid in one hand, holding the top of your head in the other. Your friend cocks an eyebrow at you. “Everything okay in here?”

Lamely, you raise the pot lid and give her a small wave with it.

“Gave myself a concussion looking for this so the mashed potatoes better taste damn near perfect.”

“I’m sure they will,” Nancy assures you, coming closer to take the lid out of your hand. She gently sets it on the pot simmering on the stove and turns back to you. “Anything I can do to help?”

Steve’s voice booms out from the living room before you can respond.

“You’re on, Munson!”

Eyes rolling skyward, you heave a sigh and shake your head.

“Keep our husbands from injuring themselves before dinner?” you ask.

“I’m afraid not.” Nancy winces. It’s an impossible task, you both know that.

As you open the refrigerator to grab the milk, Luke runs into the room–never one for just walking–with a grin on his face. 

“We’re going to play football!” he announces.

You raise an eyebrow as you measure out the cup of milk to add to the mashed potatoes.

“Who exactly is ‘we?” you ask.

“Me, Ryan, Theo, Danny, Uncle Steve, Grandpa, Daddy…and uh, maybe Natalie.”

The mention of your husband has you turning to give your son your full attention, letting the measuring glass of milk clank down on the counter.

“Your father is going to play football?”

“He’s gonna try,” Luke says with a mischievous snicker. You completely agree with your sports-loving son’s disbelieving and amused tone. You’re not even sure Eddie knows what the different positions in football are called.

“Is that what he and Steve were bickering about?” Nancy crosses her arms over her chest and rests her hip against the edge of the kitchen table.

“Yeah,” he affirms. “Mia is gonna stay in the living room with Liza.”

“Luke, come on!” Theo calls out.

“My daughter is a little mother hen,” Nancy says with a smile as Luke runs out to join his new team. Mia may be the youngest sibling in her family, but that means she takes the responsibility of having a toddler best friend very seriously. 

Noise clatters from your backyard and you take a few steps to look out the large window over the kitchen sink. Through it, you can see Steve and Eddie standing next to each other, pointing at the mass of children that are in front of them—all of them except Ryan and Natalie.

“Come on, it will be fun,” Ryan says from the next room just as you’re wondering about him.

The unmistakable sigh of a teenage girl is heard before Natalie agrees, “Fine.”

Their footsteps fade out the door and Nancy raises her brow at you.

“I’m impressed,” she says. “No one can get Natalie to do anything anymore.”

“Hormones?” you ask, turning back to the stove as some boiled water sloshes over the side of a pot. The steam hisses and floats off into the air.

“Oh, yeah. Having a teenage daughter is great.”

“Oof, I do not miss being a teenager,” you say.

“What, you stopped, like, last year?” 

You spin around to see Nancy smirking at you, and you whip your kitchen towel at her in an attempt to wipe the shit eating grin off her face. She laughs and swats the rag away, affectionately wrapping an arm around your waist as she comes to stand beside you.

“Come on, now let me help you,” she chides.

“Fine,” you relent. “Want to chop those carrots?”

“No problem.”

Loud footfalls stampede towards the kitchen, but they’re not quite as heavy as Eliza’s usually are, so you’re not surprised when Mia comes racing into the kitchen. One of these times these running children are going to hurt themselves.

“Auntieeee?” she asks you as she comes to a stop.

“Miaaaaaa?”

“Eliza is hungry,” she tells you. “Can I get her a snack?”

“Sure thing, cutie.” You wipe your hands off on the towel and walk over to the pantry. The Cheerio box is right at eyelevel as you reach for it and hand it to Mia. “Just make sure she doesn’t eat too many, okay?”

“Okay!” she calls over her shoulder as she runs out with the box.

Just as you’re about to reach for a knife, the doorbell rings. You head out to the living room, smiling when you see Eliza and Mia sitting in front of the television, sharing Cheerios and watching the rerun of the Thanksgiving Day Parade. The big Snoopy balloon passes by as you grab the doorknob. There stand Lucas and Max with their daughter Tiffany, and Dustin with his wife Anne and their baby girl, Molly. The moment she sees you, Tiffany launches herself forward with a squeal. She wraps her arms around your hips and hugs herself against your body.

“Well, hello there,” you greet her. To allow everyone else into the house, you pick up the six-year-old and take a few steps back from the door. “You wanna join Eliza and Mia?” When she nods, you let Tiffany down to go join the other girls.

The moment your arms are free, you’re being pulled into more hugs with everyone and wishes for a happy Thanksgiving. Last but not least, you pluck Molly from her mother’s arms and give her a big kiss on the cheek.

“I can’t believe how big she is!” you coo. Now well over a year old, the last time you saw the youngest Henderson was when she was nine months. 

Dustin grabs her walker from the car, since she’s still new to the whole walking thing and not the steadiest. He sets it down in the living room and you plop her down in the Minnie Mouse themed rover. She instantly takes off in the direction of the television, as if knowing she wants to be a part of this little girl gang.

“Eliza?” you call. “Do you want to come say hi?”

It takes her a second, but finally, Eliza finishes the Cheerio that’s in her hand and pushes herself up on to her feet. She toddles over, smiling when she sees her Aunt Max—who is arguably her favorite person who is not a Munson or Harrington. Her aunt gives her a big hug. Then, Eliza stops in front of Dustin. Saying nothing, she just stares up at him, her big brown eyes blinking a few times.

“Hi, Eliza!” When your daughter doesn’t answer, Dustin kneels down to be at her level. “Remember me? Uncle Dustin?”

She just keeps staring.

Lucas laughs at the little girl’s nonreaction and snatches her up into his own arms. “Mwah!” he presses a kiss to her cheek. Instantly, Eliza grins and wraps her arms around his neck for a hug.

Dustin pouts up at the scene before him, lower lip jutting out dramatically as he stands back up.

“Hey! I’m the cool uncle!” he protests. And it’s true; if the other kids were in the house right now, they’d all be climbing over Dustin until the poor man gets lost in a sea of children.

“Guess not anymore,” Lucas says with a shrug.

“It’s gotta be because I live further away,” Dustin argues. “She sees me less.”

“Sure,” Lucas says, his tone far from sincere.

Max rolls her eyes at the two men’s bickering, presumably tired of it after hearing it for almost a decade and a half. The redhead takes Eliza from her husband’s arms and turns to face Dustin’s wife.

“These stilly boys,” Max says to Eliza. “Say hi to your Aunt Anne?”

Your daughter gives a small wave, but it’s clear from the blank look on her face that she just wants to be put down to go back to Mia. Sensing this as well, Max grants her wish.

“Where’s Ed?” Dustin asks.

“In the backyard,” you say. “Playing football.”

“Football?” Dustin almost chokes on his own spit out of shock.

“I know,” you say.

“I have to see this,” Lucas says, looking towards the back door and rubbing his hands together in anticipation. 

He and Dustin go to join the game in the backyard while Max and Anne follow you into the kitchen. Nancy greets the new arrivals while you take up your previous position at the stove. As you lift the lid off the pot on the back burner, you listen to the women behind you talking and laughing. It brings a smile to your face to be surrounded by women friends. Besides a two-year-old, the only others in the house are guys. And as much as you love them, it’s not the same as having other ladies around.

Two sets of running feet zoom past the kitchen and the sound of the squeaky hinges on the backdoor let you know the two six-year-olds have gone to join the fun outside. You peek back out the window and chuckle to yourself when you see Mia and Tiffany cheering on the sidelines. Unsurprisingly, they seem to be cheering for the team that Luke is on. Mia’s idea, no doubt.

There are only a few more potatoes to add to the pot in front of you, so once those are in you go out into the living room to check on the younger girls. A gasp strangles out of you when you first see the two. Then as your brain has a moment to adjust and see that everything is okay, you break out into laughter.

“What did you do, little girl?” you ask your daughter. You shake your head in amusement as you walk over to the two of them, both covered in Cheerios that are also scattered around the living room floor.

Eliza grins up at you, small pieces of Cheerios still sticking to her baby teeth.

“Molly hungry!” she tells you.

“Oh, okay,” you say with a nod. “So, you thought to give her a snack like Mia did for you?”

“Mhmm!” She sounds quite proud of herself, and it makes your heart melt.

“Well, that was very thoughtful of you.”

Laughter erupts from behind you, and you look over your shoulder to see Max walking into the room. She takes in the mess before her and looks between the two babies.

“What’re you troublemakers doing?” she asks as she comes up beside you. 

A timer in the kitchen drags your attention away from the conversation and Max waves you on in that direction.

“Go ahead, take care of that. I’ll clean this up, then take these two outside. They can be the referees.”

“Thank you.” You give Max’s shoulder an appreciative squeeze as you walk past her.

Back in the kitchen, you turn off the timer and pull the green bean casserole out of the oven. 

Cheers ring in from the backyard, bringing a smile to your face. Anne steps up to look out the window at everyone.

“I think I’m going to go make sure no one is doing anything stupid,” she says.

“Nurse is never off duty, huh?” Nancy asks with a smile.

When Anne steps out of the room, you turn to Nancy and raise an eyebrow. 

“She wants to make sure no one is doing anything stupid?” you ask. “She clearly doesn’t know that is most of what our husbands do.”

Nancy laughs and nods her head in agreement.

“We should keep her here as an on-call nurse.”

“She’d be busier here than in the ER,” you joke. 

You and Nancy work silently side by side for a little while, before Nancy notices you starting to buzz around the kitchen more, a hectic mood settling over you. She licks over her lips before looking in your direction.

“Is something burning?” she asks.

“What?”

You whip your head around to stare at her before looking at the stove. 

“Smell it?” she asks, grabbing a paper towel to wipe her hands off on.

You take a few deep inhales, and a frown pinches your face.

“No,” you admit.

“That’s because there’s nothing burning,” Nancy says, taking a few steps closer to you. She rests her hands on your shoulders and looks you in the eye. “But it got you to take some deep breaths. Take a few more, okay?”

Catching on to her scheme, you narrow your eyes at her as you do indeed take a few more deep breaths.

“You’re sneaky,” you tell her.

“I have to be with four kids,” she replies. 

It’s not long before the game outside comes to an end and people start coming back into the house in waves. Eddie finally comes in and your heart stutters in your chest when you see him. His face is flushed from the exertion, his breathing a little labored for the same reason. His hair is frizzier than usual and when he comes closer to you, you can feel the chill coming off of him. It’s only confirmed when you put your hands on his cheeks and feel how cool they are to the touch. His smile makes you dizzy, not even registering how cold his lips are against yours when he leans in for a kiss.

“Everything smells good,” he mumbles against your mouth.

“Did you win?” you ask, reluctantly going to check on the turkey.

His sigh tells you the answer before his words do.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” he grumbles.

Both you and Nancy share a chuckle as he sulks out of the room. Ryan pops in right after, going over to the sink to wash his hands. His face is flushed like his father’s, but his hair is faring far better. Wayne, Theo, and Danny come in behind your son and Wayne goes into the fridge to grab water bottles for all the boys.

“Can I help?” Ryan asks you as he dries his hands.

“Of course, sweetheart.” You press a kiss to his head as you slip by him to grab the salt. “Do you want to get started on the stuffing?”

“Sure.”

Danny wrinkles up his nose as he takes a sip of his water.

“Cooking is for girls,” the eight-year-old declares.

“Danny!” Nancy immediately snaps. 

“Hey,” Wayne says, nudging the boy on the shoulder. “I was a cook in the army. That don’t sound girly, does it?”

Danny shakes his head, looking cowed.

“No,” he says softly.

“What do you say?” Nancy asks.

“I’m sorry.”

Ryan ruffles the boy’s hair before pretending to spill the bowl of breadcrumbs he’s carrying all over him. Danny laughs and runs away before Ryan can actually make a mess of him.

“Hey, all available squirts!” Eddie calls from the next room.

“I’m not available,” Ryan mumbles, obviously not keen on whatever his father has planned.

Luke trails into the kitchen and looks around, confused like he hasn’t lived there for years.

“Uh, I’m supposed to set the table. Where’s the stuffs?” he asks.

“By yourself?” you ask, showing him where you already have the cookery and cutlery out and ready to go.

“Nope.” 

Luke lets out a small chuckle but before you can ask what’s so funny, Mia follows in behind him. It’s clear she volunteered to be your son’s assistant.

“I’m here to help!” she announces. 

Carefully, you load up both kids with as much as you think they’re able to handle. Luckily, a parade of other small humans comes in to finish the job.

“Quite the operation you’ve got going here,” you say to your husband as you step into the dining room. “Putting the kids to work.”

“They’re my elves,” he says with a shrug. 

You giggle and press a kiss to his cheek before walking back into the kitchen.

Ryan and Natalie amble in, neither looking too happy. Eddie doesn’t ask why; he knows they’ll tell him.

“I don’t want to sit at the kids’ table,” Ryan whines. For a fourteen-year-old, Eddie thinks Ryan gripes more than his literal baby sister.

Natalie looks at the adult table, then at the kids’ table. There are nine chairs seated at each and she’s clearly trying to figure out how two can be added to the larger table.

“Me neither,” she says while mentally calculating. 

Lucas steps into the room behind the teens and Eddie sees a great opportunity. 

“Okay, you guys can sit with us,” he tells them. “As long as you contribute to the conversation.”

“Really?” Natalie asks, instantly perking up. It amazes Eddie how quickly she goes from looking like Wednesday Addams to Pippi Longstocking.

“Yeah,” Eddie says. He looks over at his former Hellfire Club member and nods at him. “By the way Lucas, did you see that the DOW is down three points today?”

Lucas doesn’t miss a beat.

“Huh,” he muses. “You know, I was just talking to my broker about that over a rousing game of golf. He suggested I take another look at my portfolio.”

“Ugh fine, we’ll sit at the kids’ table,” Ryan groans.

The two of them slink off to the other side of the room as Eddie and Lucas share a quiet laugh.

“Don’t even know if I got all the terms right,” Lucas admits.

Eddie, Ryan, Nancy, and Max all help you take the food out to the table—well, tables. Eliza watches it all as Wayne settles her in her highchair at the kids’ table. She’s practically salivating as her chocolate eyes move from dish to dish. Even Mia taking the seat between her and Luke doesn’t take her attention from her dinner. 

Annie settles Molly into her own highchair—Eliza’s old one that she outgrew. When Eddie had gotten it out of the garage both of you got a little misty-eyed that your daughter is getting so big.

The turkey is placed at the head of the table, right in front of Eddie’s seat. He picks up the large carving knife and Luke over-dramatically gasps from his place at the kids’ table. You finish scooping some mashed potatoes onto Eliza’s plate and playfully tug on one of Luke’s curls.

Eddie glances up from time to time, watching as you make sure each kid has a little bit of everything on the plate in front of them. 

“You’re gonna lose a finger, boy,” Wayne warns. The older man smiles though, at the way his nephew looks at his wife. 

Eddie sets the knife down and discreetly pops the wishbone out of the bird. If he doesn’t set it aside now all the kids will be arguing over it and Eddie isn’t sure there’s enough wine in the house to deal with that. This way, Eddie can show the kids the carved-up turkey and point to where the wishbone “should be” and shrug, telling them they’re out of luck. He looks forward to using it with you after the kids go to bed. 

You giggle as Molly reaches up and puts a dab of cranberry sauce on your nose. Eddie grins as he watches you. He had thought that seeing you with a baby wouldn’t hit him in quite the same way after Eliza was born, but it hasn’t quelled the yearning. 

Taking advantage of the kids grabbing the rolls in a frenzy, he slips the wishbone into his pocket. He already knows what his wish will be.

[anjellaufeyson]

I could treat you better - Bellamy Blake

Time stamp: 1:38

My boyfriend was lovely–his friend wasn’t. Bellamy Blake was the rudest man I’ve ever come across; I only tolerated him for my boyfriend. 

Murphy kissed me before he got pulled away for work, he was doing guard watch. I sighed, why couldn’t Bellamy do this? He always had Murphy doing everything for him, and I’m sick of it. Whenever Muphy comes back to our tent he’s exhausted or too tired to even spend time with me. I left my tent and walked inside Bellamy’s, he was shirtless and a girl was lying on his bed. I immediately left with a disgusted look on my face. 

Soon he came out searching for me, “What do you want, princess?” 

I palmed my face while we strolled together through Arkadia, “I’d prefer if you wouldn’t call me that, Blake. Especially since some people say that when they’re together.” 

He tilted his head, his eyes gazing into mine, he glanced down with a bit of a smile, “Right, whatever you say, princess.” 

The need to correct and argue with him was there but I ignored it for the sake of Murphy. “okay–can you please stop keeping my boyfriend working late? I’m aware of how things are, like it or not I’m one of the smart ones and I think he’s being overworked and–”

Bellamy’s face showed confusion in itself, “Murphy gets off at the same time as everyone else. I work the late nights, I’m who stays up all night, every night.” 

I stopped moving, trying to process my indecision and incoming sense of betrayal. “Wait, you haven’t been keeping Murphy late or hanging out with him late?” 

He shook his head and crossed his arms, his muscles clenching to his tight shirt. His veins popping out. My eyes tore away, my emotions were my only focus. “No, I don’t think anyone has. We’ve been on a lockdown since Clarke went missing.” 

My brain racked everything Murphy’s ever told me since he began ‘working’ late. I thought of the girl I assumed he had a relationship with but when I questioned him, he brushed me off. Out of anger, I took off leaving Bellamy, who ended up following behind me calling for my name. I moved the tent side and immediately saw Murphy and the girl kissing. They stopped once they noticed me and how distraught I looked. 

I backed up and accidentally bumped into Bellamy’s chest, I didn’t cry. I felt like I should cry, my body begged to cry, but when you did here–it made you seem weak. And I’d never want Murphy to see me cry even though my heart did in return. I turned and tried to shield myself with Bellamy’s chest, but hesitantly he put his arms around me. Trying to comfort me but I knew we both detested each other. He never liked me with Murphy for a reason I am unaware of, and I just never liked him. He brushed his hand up and down my back, almost in circular motions. 

Murphy’s voice appeared from behind me but I didn’t dare to look back because I felt so vulnerable, I knew I would cry. “I need to talk with her, I can explain!”

Bellamy stepped in, holding me closer. His voice was demanding, his tone was deep, “Murphy, you should go. Now. If she wants to talk to you, she’ll do it later.” 

I could hear Murphy protesting before easily giving up, he didn’t care to try. I pushed away from Bellamy who almost looked shocked at how quickly I switched up. 

We had to go on a mission, and I found myself in a difficult position. A hand covered my mouth and once I realized I didn’t know the person whose hand it was I began to get a bit scared. I tried to fight them off but couldn’t–it had to be a grounder. 

The grounder pulled a sword on me and dug into my back, but not enough to hurt me but it pierced the skin. He pushed me onto my knees where my friends were–including Bellamy. The whole hunting group was in. Murphy seemed nervous. I guess I should be too, especially since it’s my life on the line. 

“Who’s valuable to her?”

What an odd fucking question–is this supposed to be leverage? Might as well let me die. 

Bellamy not even a second later stepped forward, “She’s with me, that’s my girlfriend.” He spoke so truthfully that even everyone we knew was aware he was lying through his teeth. 

“What are you willing to give me in turn for her life?” 

His eyes almost turned vulnerable, his words coming off as pathetic as his tone came off as pleads. “What do you want?” 

The grounder moved the sword which caused me to wince, “I want Wanheda.” Everyone shared a confused glance, who is that? “Give her to me and I won’t kill her.” 

“Take me instead, she has a better chance of getting through to Wanheda than me.” What is he doing? He’s going to get himself killed–I’m aware he can handle himself but this is almost suicidal. The grounder pushed me into Bellamy’s arms. He squeezed my hand for the quickest second and moved to the grounder who hit him immediately. 

I wanted to help him but I didn’t know how to, Bellamy could’ve attacked but stayed down, taking another punch with ease. I stepped forward but he put his hand up, “Don’t,” he demanded while blood ran down his cheek. 

Why was he willing to do this for me? We’ll never find her, I mouthed. He did a tiny nod. They need you, I mouthed once more. He got kicked in his ribs and I knew I lost his attention but while the grounder was distracted I quickly stole Murphy’s gun and shot the grounder. My aim was good, but I hated shooting, killing wasn’t something I wanted to do. But I had to–for him. 

Without processing what I did I went to Bellamy’s side. I hated his stupidity and I hated how he saved my life. “I hate you,” I said as I helped him up. He spit out blood, “I know,” he said while wincing from getting up too quickly. 

While Bellamy was getting medical from Abby, I was talking with Octavia and Jasper. Murphy approached grabbing my arm, “Were you and Bellamy seeing each other behind my back?”

His breath reeks of Monty’s moonshine, “Are you serious? You’ve been cheating on me, Murphy?”

“Were you yes or no?” 

Before I could say anything Bellamy put his arm around my waist. His hands slipped around my stomach. Holding me tight but just to keep himself steady from behind. “Yes,” he said in a raspy voice, still clearly in pain. I couldn’t turn my head, I’d be too close to his face. He groaned a bit in pain but still managed to keep his posture strong and himself looking composed. Bellamy pulled me in closer to him and that got a bit of a reaction from Murphy. 

“Fuck you both,” he said as he stormed off. Everyone else decided to leave us alone, I was going to Bellamy back to medic. There was a zero percent chance he was let out yet. 

He stopped me from walking, his tight and bloody shirt doing him every bit of justice. His hands took control so easily, “Why’d you do it,” I asked. 

His fingers traced along my neck, “Save you? Or help you?”

“Both,” I spoke breathlessly. His eyes were fixated on my lips and I wondered if Abby gave him painkillers or something for this type of behavior. 

Bellamy stared down at me, tension felt like it was rising, and the heat was radiating off our bodies. He kept one hand on my waist, holding me. His right hand pulled my hair to the side he leaned in, “because we both know I could treat you better,” he whispered into my ear.

[sister-lucifer]

“You’re Really Not Cut Out For This…”

A Toby x Gender Neutral Reader Drabble 

Content/Warnings: Porn with no plot, bottom/sub Reader, degradation, a bit of mean Toby, heavy discussion of Reader basically being a free use sex toy, no specified genitalia for Reader, Reader + Toby are both proxies

This is not fully proof read! Please let me know if you see any typos

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORKS TO BE REPOSTED, USED COMMERCIALLY OR FED TO AN AI. IF YOU DO THIS I WILL HUNT YOU DOWN AND FUCKING KILL YOU.

“You know, y-you’re reeeaaaally not cut— c-cut out for this-ss-s…t-this ‘job,’ I mean.” 

The sudden admission would make you pause if had the lucidity to do so. You can’t do much of anything with the rabid way Toby’s pounding into you from behind, shoving his cock into you with the whole of his strength without so much as a single thought to your wellbeing. You barely manage to babble out something that sounds like a question. You can feel him smiling despite the forced wrenching of his face. 

“I-I’m just saying,” he continues, punctuating that last word with a particularly acute thrust that makes you squeal, “You d-don’t—shhh!—don’t seem like y-you really enjoy this-ss-s…line of-fff-f work…hell, you’re not good at i-it— it either, if we’re being hones-ss-st-t.” 

There’s no ignoring the cheeky giggle in his voice as he insults you to your face. He leans over you a bit, putting more of his weight on you and practically trapping you beneath him. He keeps talking before you even get a chance to protest. 

“You’re definitely n-not my equal,” he growls with a chuckle, as if highly amused by the idea of your inferiority, “You’ve hardly su— s-succeeded at any mission th-the ‘Boss’ has given you— y-you…but you are so good at this—“ 

He laughs at the way you choke on nothing when he angles his hips upwards just right, hitting that sensitive spot deep inside you that makes you see stars. You can feel his body shudder on top of you, a series of involuntary tongue clicks and whistles interrupting him for a moment before his endless chatter continues on. 

“You’re sooo— s-so fucking good at taking my cock…” 

He can’t contain the flood of sick giggles that burst from his throat before he can truly finish his thought. 

“…Tell you what I’m gonna do.” 

You shiver at how deathly serious his voice becomes suddenly. He’s speaking lowly into your ear, making sure you hear every syllable clear as day.  His stutter even pauses for that moment; he’s focused, suddenly, and a focused Toby is rare, but horrific for anyone who happens to be in his line of sight. 

“I’m gonna talk to the ‘Boss’…y-yeah, that’s what I’ll do. I-I’ll tell— t-tell him myself, ‘I don’t t-think the n-new— new— new one is cut out for this.’”

He grabs at your arms, pinning them to the mattress as he uses his body to hold you down. He’s starting to lose his steady pace as his excitement builds, his fingers flexing and popping in ways they shouldn’t be able to as he grasps your wrists.

“And he’ll l-listen to me, you know? H-He’ll lis— l-listen-nn-n to me, I know he will, be— b-because— beep! beep!— because I’m his f-ff-favorite.”

The word ‘favorite’ echoes in your mind, making you dizzy and sick. As much as you and the others are convinced that creature can’t feel emotion at all, it does show favoritism. It doesn’t love Toby, it doesn’t even care about him; on some level, Toby has to know that, he’s smarter than he lets on, but… 

…He doesn’t care. 

All he knows is that he’s getting positive attention from something, and it’s going straight to his ego. The only saving grace is that he’s usually too juvenile and short sighted to use that power against his fellow proxies. 

Usually. 

Unless he can get something he really wants out of it. 

“I-I’ll tell him, I’ll tell him-mm-m you’d be better off as my toy.” 

You nearly choke as Toby rocks you forward with a particularly hard thrust. You can feel your legs trembling, nothing more than jello underneath you, barely holding you up. Toby sucks in a breath through his crooked teeth as he watches you put the pieces together in your mind, though you can do little to show it. 

“That’s right, that’s-ss-s right!” He repeats, sounding far too pleased with himself, “I’ll tell him you’d be b-better off-ff-f being used, just-t something I can use— u-use— use to unwind after I do all the hard work that y-you— you could never.” 

He breaks out into giggles again, wrapping an arm around your neck and stifling your air without warning. You grasp onto his sleeve, clawing at his arm, but you’re far too shaky and weak to pull it away. He forces you to look him in the eyes, not wanting even a scrap of your attention to not be on him. 

“That’s right, you h-hear that?” He manages to choke out between his laughter, “I’m gon-nn-a get you demoted to a fucking hole!” 

He pushes—throws, really—your head back into the mattress before even have the chance to argue. He shoves your face into the bed, hand tangled in your hair as you whimper pathetically, exactly how he likes. He runs his tongue over his lips as he looks down at you, completely helpless underneath him, and it sends a surge of sick pleasure through his body.

“Just enjoy it,” He hisses through gritted teeth, “Because when I-I get m-mm-my way, this is all you’ll ever do.”

Like my writing? I take requests! NSFW or SFW for any fandoms in my bio (request rules + masterlist in pinned post)!

Also, please reblog! it’s free, takes two seconds, and really helps me out. 

Feedback is encouraged and appreciated. 

[jakeypaws]

mine to keep 🔒

yandere bf niki x fem!reader

content: yandere behavior, stalking, obsession, kidnapping, manipulation, smut later on

chapter 1

i met niki through a dating app, and swiping right on him was the biggest mistake i’d ever made. at the time, it felt harmless—a quick match with a guy who was just a year older than me at 19, which i didn’t mind. his profile had been charming, his messages even more so, and when we met in person, his confidence and charisma swept me off my feet. i didn’t realize then that behind his captivating smile was a possessiveness i wasn’t prepared for—a side of him that would slowly, but surely, consume me.

when i told my friends—momo, tzuyu, and jay—that i finally had my first boyfriend, they were ecstatic for me. momo practically squealed, tzuyu smiled softly and called it “about time,” and jay gave me a playful nudge, saying, “he better treat you right, or he’ll have to deal with me.” since niki was my first boyfriend, i had no idea what to expect. the butterflies, the nervousness, the constant overthinking—it was all new to me, and my friends were my lifeline through it all. they offered advice, shared their own experiences, and told me to take things slow. “just be yourself,” momo had said. “if he’s the right guy, everything will fall into place.” at the time, i believed her.

niki invited me over to his house for a movie date, and i happily agreed. we ended up watching a horror movie, and every time a jumpscare popped up, i found myself gripping his hand tightly. he chuckled softly at my reactions, and i couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed. but then i noticed something—niki wasn’t watching the movie at all. he was watching me. i turned to him, catching his gaze, and asked if something was wrong. “nothing,” he said with a small smile. “you just look so pretty.” his words made my cheeks burn, and i quickly turned back to the screen, trying to focus on the movie. before i could settle, niki gently turned my face back toward him, his hand soft on my cheek, and leaned in for a kiss. my mind raced, unsure of what to do, until i remembered what my friends had told me: just be yourself. with that in mind, i closed my eyes and accepted his kiss, letting myself get lost in the moment.

as the night went on, i realized it was getting late and told niki i should probably head home. he looked at me, his expression soft yet persuasive, and offered for me to stay the night instead. “it’s late,” he said, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “you’ll be safer here.” i hesitated, unsure if it was too soon for something like this, but then i reminded myself that this was probably normal when you start dating. after a moment of debating with myself, i nodded and agreed. “okay,” i said quietly, trying to ignore the nerves fluttering in my chest. niki smiled, leaning in to kiss my forehead, and led me to his room, where i couldn’t help but feel a mix of excitement and uncertainty about what was to come.

that night, niki and i cuddled in his bed, his arms wrapped securely around me as we drifted off to sleep. the next morning, i woke up to find him still sound asleep, his peaceful expression making my heart flutter. i gently shook him awake, whispering that i needed to go, but instead of letting me go, he pulled me closer, his voice groggy as he mumbled, “no, don’t go yet.” he pressed soft, sleepy kisses across my face, his warmth making it impossible not to smile. i giggled at his reaction, feeling my cheeks heat up as i relaxed into his embrace, savoring the moment a little longer.

a few minutes later, niki finally got up and offered to drive me back to my house. i didn’t think much of it at the time and agreed, not realizing this was another mistake—now he knew where i lived. when we arrived, i said goodbye and thanked him for the ride, waving as he drove off. the moment i stepped inside, i pulled out my phone and texted my friends’ group chat, giving them a full update about what had happened. momo sent a string of heart emojis, tzuyu told me she wanted every single detail, and jay jokingly asked if niki had passed “the big brother test” yet. i couldn’t help but laugh at their responses, feeling like everything was falling into place perfectly.

chapter 2

i had finally decided it was time to introduce niki to my friends. after all, things were getting more serious between us, and i knew my friends would want to meet him. we all planned to hang out at the mall, and niki was eager to join. when we met up, momo and tzuyu immediately started making ‘oooh’ sounds, teasing us about our relationship. niki just chuckled, his arm wrapped around my shoulders as if it was the most natural thing in the world. i couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed, but i was happy to see them getting along so well. jay, on the other hand, wasn’t as open with his emotions. he smiled and gave niki a friendly nod, but i could tell there was something in his eyes—a hint of jealousy, maybe? it wasn’t surprising, considering jay had been my childhood friend, and i knew he’d always looked out for me. still, i appreciated that he wasn’t letting his feelings get in the way of our fun. throughout the day, niki spoiled me by paying for all my things, something that made me both grateful and slightly uncomfortable. i didn’t want to feel indebted to him, but the way he smiled at me made it hard to refuse.

it had been a month since niki and i started dating, and while things were still good, i began noticing some subtle changes. he had become more protective of me, constantly telling me that i didn’t need my friends and that i deserved better. at first, i thought it was sweet, a sign that he cared about me, but then it started to feel a little... off. i didn’t think too much of it, chalking it up to the fact that he was my first boyfriend, and i didn’t know much about relationships. what really started to unsettle me was how he became more possessive, constantly checking in on me and questioning where i was or who i was with. i brushed it off, thinking maybe it was just his way of showing affection. what i didn’t know, though, was that he had already crossed a line. while i was asleep at night, niki had snuck into my house and inserted a chip into my phone, silently spying on me without me realizing. i didn’t suspect a thing, and i thought his possessiveness was just a normal part of being in a relationship. but in the back of my mind, something felt like it was slowly shifting.

as the days passed, i began to feel a growing unease about niki’s behavior. i couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right, but i didn’t know how to confront him about it. so, i turned to my friends’ group chat, sharing my concerns and asking for their thoughts. momo, tzuyu, and jay all told me that it sounded like niki was becoming a little too overbearing, warning me to be careful. but i brushed off their advice, convincing myself that they didn’t understand. after all, niki was just being protective, right? he was my first boyfriend, and maybe i was just overthinking things. eventually, i stopped paying attention to their messages, silently pushing their concerns aside as i convinced myself that everything would be fine. niki’s love was just... intense. and i figured it was just part of being in a relationship.

niki’s words began to linger in my mind more and more. he started saying that i should move in with him, so we could be together all the time. at first, i hesitated, unsure if it was too soon for such a big step in our relationship. i didn’t know if it was the right decision, but the thought of always being close to him, never having to leave his side, started to feel comforting. niki promised it would be the best thing for us, that it would only bring us closer. my friends, however, didn’t feel the same. they warned me that moving in so soon was a huge leap and that i was rushing things. but i pushed their concerns aside, convincing myself that it would be fine. after all, niki was just looking out for me. so, i packed up my things, moving into his place. as i settled into our new life together, a strange feeling nagged at the back of my mind, but i ignored it, telling myself it was just the excitement of being in love.

another month passed, and niki’s possessiveness grew stronger with each passing day. he started insisting that i couldn’t see my friends anymore, claiming that they were a bad influence on me. if i wanted to go out, he wouldn’t let me leave without him by my side, always making sure he was there, watching my every move. at first, i thought it was just him being protective, but the constant surveillance and control began to wear on me. i started to feel trapped, suffocated by his need to always be around. regret started to creep in as i remembered my friends’ warnings, and i couldn’t help but wish i had listened to them. but now, i was too deep in the relationship, too tangled in his web of control. i wanted to talk to someone, but i was scared—scared of what niki might do if i did.

chapter 3

one evening, after yet another argument with niki about his possessiveness, i finally snapped. i told him he was being way too controlling, that i couldn’t breathe anymore with him always watching my every move. i tried to explain that i needed space, that i needed my own life outside of him. but as always, niki’s expression darkened, and he just stared at me, silent for a moment before walking out the door with a simple, “i’ll be back soon. i’m getting food for us.” as soon as he left, i quickly grabbed my phone, feeling a wave of desperation wash over me. i needed help, and fast. i texted my friends’ group chat, explaining everything that had been happening and asking them to help me get out of this situation. i even sent them niki’s address, hoping they could come and get me. no sooner had i sent the message, i heard niki’s car pull out of the driveway. i breathed a small sigh of relief, thinking i had some time. little did i know, niki wasn’t really getting food—he used the chip he put in my phone to track my every move. he saw my friends' car pull into the driveway, and without hesitation, he followed them in his own car, a sickening feeling of dread building in my stomach.

as jay drove, my friends quickly noticed a car following closely behind us. they exchanged nervous glances, and jay’s grip tightened on the wheel. he pulled into his driveway, trying to shake niki off, but it was too late. niki parked his car and got out, storming toward us with a look of fury. without a word, jay jumped out of the car, ready to confront him. the two of them squared off, words turning into shoves, and it escalated into a full-on fight. i watched helplessly from the car, heart racing as the sounds of punches and grunts filled the air. the fight was intense, neither of them giving an inch, but in the end, it ended in a standstill. both of them were exhausted, bruised, but neither had emerged victorious. with a final glare, niki retreated to his car and sped off, leaving us in the quiet aftermath. i rushed out of the car and ran to jay, who was standing there, catching his breath. “are you okay?” i asked, my voice trembling. jay gave me a small, reassuring smile, though i could see the tension in his eyes. “i’m fine,” he replied, but i could tell he was more worried about me than about himself.

once we were inside jay’s house, the tension didn’t ease. momo and tzuyu immediately started helping jay with the cuts and bruises, but the weight of what had just happened hung heavily in the air. they exchanged a glance before turning to me, their faces serious. “y/n, it’s time,” momo said softly, her voice filled with concern. “you need to break up with him. he’s not good for you. this isn’t healthy.” tzuyu nodded in agreement, her usual calm demeanor replaced with an intensity i hadn’t seen before. a sense of dread pooled in my stomach. i didn’t want to lose niki, but i knew deep down that this wasn’t the person i had fallen for. i swallowed hard, my heart aching as i pulled out my phone. i couldn’t ignore it any longer. taking a deep breath, i typed the words that felt like they would shatter me: “niki, we’re over.” my fingers shook as i hit send, but as soon as the message was gone, a wave of sadness and relief washed over me. i couldn’t help but wonder if i had just made the biggest mistake of my life.

a few weeks passed, and niki never responded to my breakup message. while i still felt a mix of relief and guilt, i found myself growing closer to jay. we spent more time together, doing everything from late-night talks to spontaneous trips. jay was there for me in ways i hadn’t even realized i needed, and i couldn’t help but appreciate the comfort he brought. momo and tzuyu noticed the change and were happy for us. “you two were always meant to be,” tzuyu said, and momo teased, “finally, after all these years.” their support made me feel at ease, but deep down, i couldn’t shake the feeling that niki’s silence wasn’t the end of it.

little did i know, niki had been planning something far more sinister while he was away. he wasn’t done with me yet. niki was working behind the scenes, finding ways to drive all my friends away, one by one. after all, he still had the chip in my phone that no one knew about, tracking my every move, watching my conversations, and using it to manipulate the situation. it was like he was always lurking in the background, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

chapter 4

after a month of planning and scheming, niki finally set his traps in motion. his first target was momo, who had unwittingly walked into his trap when she returned to her house. niki had been hiding in the shadows, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

with momo distracted by her daily routine, niki snuck up behind her and knocked her out cold. he then dragged her back to the living room and tied her securely to a chair. a sadistic grin spread across his face as he began to explain why y/n was his. "you see, momo," niki sneered, "y/n was always meant to be mine. and you took that away from me." the air was thick with tension as niki began to torture momo, leaving her writhing in agony. as the sun set over the city, niki finally left momo to die in her own home.

i had been staying at jay’s house for safety, trying to keep my mind off the lingering fear of niki. but the fragile sense of security shattered when the news blared through the tv, announcing the discovery of a body found in a nearby home. my heart stopped as the screen showed momo’s house. the anchor confirmed what i dreaded—it was her. i froze, my chest tightening as tears welled up in my eyes. jay and i exchanged panicked glances before he reached for his phone. "we need to call tzuyu," i whispered, my voice shaky. jay nodded, quickly dialing her number as i sat in silence, my mind racing with fear and disbelief.

tzuyu picked up the call almost immediately, her voice calm but firm as she reassured us, “don’t worry, i have pepper spray and other things to protect myself. i’ll be fine.” her words brought a small sense of relief, but it wasn’t enough to erase the growing dread in my chest. jay and i exchanged uneasy looks, both of us thinking the same thing—if niki was behind this, who would he target next? the thought of losing someone else made my stomach churn, and i clenched my fists, silently wishing this nightmare would end.

a couple of days passed, and tzuyu decided to take a stroll in the woods near her house, hoping the fresh air would help clear her mind from the tragedy of momo. she hummed softly to herself, trying to shake off the unease that lingered. little did she know, niki was right behind her, moving like a shadow. before she could react, he shoved her to the ground, catching her completely off guard. panicked, tzuyu fumbled for her pepper spray and quickly aimed it at him, spraying without hesitation. to her horror, it had no effect—niki was prepared, wearing protective glasses and a ski mask. her mind raced in confusion and fear. how could he have known? what tzuyu didn’t realize was that niki had overheard everything through the chip in my phone, listening in on every word of our conversation.

niki ended tzuyu’s life right then and there, with no hesitation, ensuring there was no escape for her. he left her lifeless body in the woods, arranging it in a way that would ensure it would be found by the authorities. a few days later, the news broke: another body had been discovered. this time, it was tzuyu. the room fell silent as jay and i watched the broadcast in shock. jay turned to me, his expression serious yet soft, and said, “everything will be alright. i’ll protect you, no matter what.” despite his reassurance, a cold fear gripped my heart, knowing niki wasn’t going to stop.

the next day, jay told me he needed to step out and grab some food for me. he reassured me that all the doors and windows were locked, double-checking them before leaving. i gave him a small, nervous smile as he left, trying not to let the fear of being alone consume me. after some time, i decided to take a nap, hoping it would calm my racing thoughts.

unbeknownst to me, niki had been watching, waiting for the perfect moment. he skillfully unlocked the back door with a pick, quietly stepping inside. his dark figure loomed over my sleeping body, a twisted smile forming on his lips. leaning down, he whispered softly, "don't worry, everything will be fine soon." i stirred slightly but didn’t wake—until he pressed a cloth over my mouth. my eyes flew open, locking onto niki’s cold, calculating gaze. i tried to move, to fight back, but the chemicals took hold. my vision blurred, and the world faded to black as i fell unconscious.

niki tied me up and placed me in the backseat of my car before heading back into jay’s house to wait. when jay returned, groceries in hand, he froze at the sight of niki casually sitting on his couch. “what did you do to her?!” jay shouted, dropping the bags in a panic. niki smirked, standing up slowly. “i’m only taking back what’s mine,” he said coldly, pulling out a pocket knife. before jay could react, niki lunged forward and stabbed him. jay gasped as his body crumpled to the floor, blood pooling beneath him, while niki looked on, completely unfazed.

chapter 5 (smut)

i woke up in a daze, my head pounding as i tried to regain my composure. blinking a few times, i looked around and quickly recognized the room i was in—niki’s bedroom. but it wasn’t how i remembered it. the walls were plastered with pictures of my friends, each one crossed out with bold red x’s, and beside them were papers filled with detailed plans of what niki had done to them. my stomach twisted in horror as my eyes shifted to another section of the wall. there, amidst the chaos, were pictures of me—hundreds of them, all jumbled together with a massive heart drawn around them in bright red ink.

i tried to move and was relieved to realize i wasn’t tied down or restrained in any way. my legs were shaky, but i pushed myself to stand, summoning every bit of strength i had. slowly, i staggered toward the bedroom door, my only chance at escape. as i opened it, my heart dropped—niki was standing right there, his 6'1" frame towering over me. my breath hitched as he took a step forward, forcing me to retreat back into the room. his eyes burned with an unsettling intensity as he gestured toward the pictures plastered on the walls. "do you see how much i love you?" he began, his voice low but filled with venom. "i hate seeing what's mine being taken away. i had to do this. you should’ve listened to me before. you should’ve stayed with me. none of this would’ve happened if you just listened." each word dripped with possessiveness, his twisted devotion sending shivers down my spine.

niki backed me up until i stumbled and fell onto the bed again, his movements swift and deliberate. before i could gather myself, he was on top of me, pinning both of my hands above my head with just one arm. i gasped, my body trembling as my heart raced in my chest. "i-i’m sorry, niki... please! don't hurt me!" i begged, the tears streaming down my face, mixing with the panic that gripped my every thought. his expression was cold, but his voice remained eerily calm as he leaned closer, his breath warm against my ear. "no," he said, his words almost a whisper, "you should’ve listened to me. you wouldn’t be in this position otherwise." his grip tightened, and the fear bubbled up inside me as i realized how much control he had over me.

niki's grip on my wrists tightened, his voice low and almost possessive as he spoke. "i have to punish you. i have to," he muttered, his words barely a whisper against my skin. "i told you those friends won’t protect you the way i do. i have to do this so that you listen to me." my heart raced, and i could barely think straight through the overwhelming fear. "no—niki, please, don’t!" i begged, my voice breaking as i tried to pull away, my chest tight with terror. before i could say anything else, niki cut me off, his mouth suddenly on my neck, biting down hard enough to draw blood. a sharp cry escaped me, and i whimpered in pain as the searing sensation hit, my body tensing in shock. the sharp sting of his teeth left me trembling, unable to escape his grip.

as niki continued to mark me, i couldn't help but whimper in submission, his groans of satisfaction only fueling my desire for him. he then started to undress me, leaving me fully exposed and vulnerable before him. despite the danger and uncertainty of our situation, i couldn't help but feel a twisted sense of pleasure at being completely under his control. he undressed himself as well, revealing the hard lines of his body beneath his clothes. the air was thick with tension as he gazed down at me, his eyes burning with a fierce intensity that left me breathless and wanting more.

niki then dipped his finger in me, expertly working their way inside me, his thumb circling my entrance as he slowly pumped in and out. i felt a mix of pleasure and discomfort as he began to stretch me, preparing me for the size that was to come. his eyes never left mine, burning with a smoldering intensity that made my skin prickle with anticipation. "you're so tight," he whispered, his voice low and husky, sending shivers down my spine. he continued to work his magic, gradually increasing the pressure until i was gasping for air, my body trembling with need.

niki let go of my arms, hovering over me, his warm breath touching my ear, “i’ll teach you to listen to me.” his eyes locked onto mine, his gaze burning with a fierce dominance as he aligned his massive cock to my trembling entrance. i felt a wave of uncertainty wash over me as i wondered if it would even fit, but niki was undeterred. he slowly began to push forward, the head of his dick breaching my opening and sending sparks of pain through my body. i winced at the initial discomfort, but niki didn't stop, instead continuing to thrust in and out in slow, deliberate strokes. with each passing moment, the pain gave way to a growing sense of fullness and pressure as he stretched me further than i ever thought possible.

he then gripped my hips as he pounded into me with reckless abandon, his thrusts growing more brutal and unforgiving. i begged him to slow down, but niki just laughed, his voice cold and detached. "this is what you get for not listening to me," he repeated, his words dripping with malice. i clung to his back for support, my fingers digging deep into the flesh as i tried to anchor myself against the onslaught of sensations coursing through my body. tears streamed down my face as niki leaned in close, his lips brushing against mine in a cruel kiss. his eyes gleamed with a dark intensity as he whispered the question that sent shivers down my spine: "do you understand what happens if you don't listen to me?"

as i felt myself approaching climax, i whispered to niki that i was close, but he sternly instructed me not to come unless he gave permission. this command only served to heighten my emotional distress, and i broke down into tears as i begged niki to let me release the pent-up tension in my body. however, niki remained unmoved by my pleas, his expression unyielding as he continued to thrust into me with deliberate precision. it wasn't until he spoke again that any sense of hope arose—"listen to me," he growled, "listen to me and maybe...just maybe...i'll reward you."

after what felt like an eternity, niki's relentless pace showed no signs of slowing. i was a quivering mess, my body screaming for release as i struggled to hold back the inevitable. but it seemed that fate had other plans, and with one final thrust, niki's words pierced through the chaos: "you can come." a wave of relief washed over me as i let go of all control and allowed myself to surrender to the orgasm. it was only moments later that niki joined me in his own climax, his groan echoing through the air as he pumped into me with renewed ferocity. and just when i thought it was all over, niki's voice cut through the haze once more: "i'm not done yet.”

i gazed up at niki through tear-stained eyes, my body still reeling from the intensity of our first round. i was spent, exhausted, and overwhelmed by the relentless pace he'd set. but niki seemed to have other plans, his hands moving with a newfound ferocity as he flipped me onto my stomach and positioned himself behind me. my ass hung in the air, exposed and vulnerable as he grasped my hips and plunged into me once more. i moaned softly, my body protesting the sudden invasion even as it responded to his touch. i arched my back in an attempt to escape the overstimulation, but it only seemed to fuel niki's desire for more.

i clung to the bed sheets, my fingers digging deep into the fabric as niki continued to drive himself into me with ruthless precision. his words cut through the haze of pleasure and pain, a cruel reminder of why i was in this position in the first place: "see? if you listen to me, you wouldn't have to be punished." the words were like a spark that ignited another wave of orgasmic intensity within me, and before i could even process what was happening, i came again without warning. my body went limp, exhausted and spent as niki's thrusts slowed to a stop. he chuckled softly, his breath hot against my ear as he whispered something that sent shivers down my spine, “again.”

i felt myself reaching the breaking point, my body screaming for mercy as niki continued to thrust into me with relentless precision. it was like he had a sixth sense, knowing exactly when to push me over the edge and send me tumbling into another abyss of pleasure. and yet, i couldn't help but succumb to his will, my body betraying me once more as i came again not only a few minutes after. the sensation was almost too much to bear, my mind reeling from the sheer intensity of it all. niki's own climax followed shortly after mine, his groan echoing through the air as he pumped into me one final time before collapsing against my back in exhaustion. his breath hot against my skin, i could feel his heart pounding in time with mine as we lay there together in silence.

niki's arms wrapped around me, pulling me close as he whispered words of reassurance into my ear: "i'll protect you forever, i promise." the warmth of his body and the gentle pressure of his embrace were like a balm to my exhausted soul. as we lay there together, i felt a sense of safety wash over me, as if nothing could ever harm us again.

as the silence stretched out between us, our breathing synchronized in time with each other's. my eyelids grew heavy, and before i knew it, i was drifting off to sleep. niki followed suit soon after, his soft snores mingling with mine as we both succumbed to the exhaustion that had been building all day.

[cybernaght]

The fandom echo chamber: fanon, microanalysis and conspiracy brain 

As someone who has been in fandom spaces, on and off, for 20 years, I find some fascinating trends popping up in the last decade that I thought to be fandom-specific but clearly aren’t. So, I would like to do a little examination of where those things come from, how they are engaged with, and what it says about the way we consume media. This is a think piece, of sorts, with my brain being the main source. As such, we will spend some time down the memory lane of a fandom-focused millennial.

This is largely brought about by Good Omens. But it’s also not really about Good Omens at all.

Part one. Fanon.

The way we see characters in any story is always skewed by our very selves. This is a neutral statement, and it does not have a value judgement. It’s simply unavoidable. We recognise aspects of them, love aspects of them, and choose aspects of them to highlight based entirely on our own vision of the universe. 

Recognition comes into this. There is a reason so many protagonists of romance novels have a “blank slate” problem. Even when they do not, we love characters who are like us or versions of us that we would like to be. And when we say “we”, I also mean, “me”. 

(I remember very clearly this realisation hit me after a whole season of Doctor Who with writing which I hated utterly when I questioned why I still clung so incredibly hard to Clara Oswald as my favourite companion. Then I looked at myself in the mirror. Oh. Well. That would do it, wouldn’t it?)

Then, there is projection, and, again, this is a neutral statement. Projection exists, and it is completely normal and, dare I say it, valid way of engaging with — well, anything. Is the character queer? Trans? Neurodivergent? Are they in love? Do they like chocolate? Are they a cat person? Well, yes, if this is what the text says, but if the text does not say anything… You tell me. Please, do tell me. Because, in that moment of projection, they are yours. 

And then, there is fandom osmosis, and that is the most fascinating one of them all, the one that is not very easy to note while you are inside the echo chamber. It’s the way we collectively, consciously or not, make decisions on who or what the characters are, what their relationships are, and what happens to them.  

(Back when I was writing egregiously long Guardian recaps on this blog I actually asked if Shen Wei’s power being learning actually was stated anywhere in the canon of the show. Because I had no idea. I have read and reread dozen of fanfics where that is the case, and at some point through enough repetition, it became reality.)

We are all kind of making our own reality here, aren’t we? 

Back when things were happening in a much less centralised manner - in closed livejournal groups, and forums of all shapes and sizes - I don’t remember there being quite as much universally agreed upon fanon. Frankly, I don’t remember much of universally agreed upon anything. But now, everything is in one place: we have this, and we have AO3, and it’s wonderful, it really is so much easier to navigate, but it’s also one gigantic reality-shifting echo chamber, with blogs, reblogs, trends, and rituals. 

Accessibility plays its part, too. If you were, say, in Life on Mars (UK) fandom between seasons, and you wanted to post your speculation fic, you had to have had an account, and then find and gain access to one of the bigger groups (lifein1973 was my poison, but ymmv), and then, if you feel brave you may post it, but also, you may want to do so from your alt account if you wanted to keep yours separate, and then you would have to go through the whole process again. And I’m not saying that fan creations then were somehow inherently better for it than fan creations now (although Life on Mars Hiatus Era is perhaps a bad example - because some of the Speculation Fic there was breathtaking), but there is something to say about the ease of access that made the fandoms go through a big bang of sorts.

(I mean, come on, I can just come here and post this - and I am certain people will read it, and this blog is a pandemic cope baby about Chinese television for goodness sake.)

The canon transformations that happen in the fandom echo chamber truly are fascinating to witness as someone who is more or less a fandom butterfly. I get into something, float around for a bit, then get into something else and move on. I might come back eventually when the need arises, but I don’t sustain a hiatus mind-state. This means that when I float away and return, I find some very intriguing stuff.

Let’s actually look at Good Omens here. Season two aired, and I found it spectacular in its cosy and anguished way; deliberately and intelligently fanfic-y in its plot building; simple but subversive, and so very tender. (I will have to circle back to this eventually, because, truly, I love how deliberately it takes the tropes and shatters them - it’s glorious). And, to me - a person who read the book, watched the first season, hung around AO3 for a few weeks and moved on - absolutely on-point in terms of characterisation. 

So imagine my surprise when the fandom disagreed so vehemently that there are actual multi-tiered theories on how characters were not in possession of their senses. Nothing there, in my mind, ever contradicted any of the stated text, as it stood. This remained a strange little mystery until I did what I always do when I flutter close to an ongoing fandom.

I loaded AO3 and sorted the existing fic by popularity. And there it was, all there: the actual earth-shattering mutual devotion of the angel and the demon; willingness to Fall; openness and long heart-aching confession speeches. There was all of the fanon surrounding Aziraphale and Crowley, which, to me, read as out of character, and to one for whom they became the reality over the last four years, read as truth. 

Again, only neutral statements here. This is not a bad thing, and neither this is a good thing, this is just something that happens, after a while, especially when there are years for the fandom-born ideas to bounce around and stew. I can’t help but think that so much of what we see as real in spaces such as this one is a chimaera of the actual source and all the collective fan additions which had time and space to grow, change, develop, and inspire, reverberating over and over again, until the echoes fill the entirety of the space. 

Eventually, this chimaera becomes a reality. 

Part two. Microanalysis 

Here are my two suppositions on the matter:

1. Some writers really love breadcrumb storytelling. 

Russel T Davies, for instance, on his run of Doctor Who (and, if you are reading it much later - I do mean the original one), loved that technique for his seasonal arcs. What is a Bad Wolf? Who is Harold Saxon? Well, you can watch very very carefully, make a theory, and see it proven right or wrong by the end of the season. 

Naturally, mystery box writers are all about breadcrumb storytelling: your Losts and your Westworlds are all about giving you snippets to get your brain firing, almost challenging you to figure things out just ahead of the reveal. 

2. We, as humans, love breadcrumbs.

And why wouldn’t we? Breadcrumbs are delicious. They are, however, a seasoning, or a coating. They are not the meal. 

Too much metaphor?

Let’s unpack it and start from the beginning.

Pattern recognition colours every aspect of our lives, and it colours the way we view art to a great extent. I think we truly underestimate how much it’s influenced by our lived experiences.

If you are, broadly speaking, living somewhere in Western/North-Western Europe in the 14th century, and you see a painting in which there is a very very large figure surrounded by some smaller figures and holding really tiny figures, you may know absolutely nothing about who those figures are, but you know that the big figure is the Important One, and the small ones are Less Important Ones, and the tiny ones are In Their Care. You know where your reverence would lie, looking at this picture. And, I imagine, as someone living in the 14th century, you may be inspired to a sense of awe looking at this composition, because in the world you live in, this is how art works. 

If you, on the other hand, watch a piece of recorded media and see the eyes of two characters meet as the violins swell, you know what you are being told at that moment. You don’t have to have a film degree to feel a sort of way when you see a green-tinged pallet used, when cross-cuts use juxtaposing images, or notice where your focus is pulled in any given shot. This stuff - this recognition of patterns - has been trained into us by the simple fact that we live in this time, on this planet, and we have been doing so long enough to have engaged recorded media for a period of time. 

As humans, we notice things. Our brains flare up when they see something they recognise, and then we seek to find other similar details and form a bigger picture. This often happens unconsciously, but sometimes it does not. Sometimes we do it on purpose: finding breadcrumbs in stories is a little bit like solving a mystery. It allows us to stretch that brain muscle that puts two and two together. It makes us feel clever. 

So yes, we love breadcrumbs, and, frankly, quite a lot of storytelling takes advantage of this. It’s very useful for foreshadowing, creating thematic coherence, or introducing narrative parallels and complexity. It’s useful for nudging the viewer into one or the other emotional direction, or to cue them into what will happen in the next moment, or what exactly is the one important detail they should pay attention to.

Because this is something media does intentionally, and something we pick up both consciously and not, it is very hard to know when to stop. We don't really ever know when all of the breadcrumbs have been collected. It becomes very easy to get carried away. There is a very specific kind of pleasure in digging into content frame by frame, soundbite by soundbite, chasing that pleasure of finding. 

But it is almost never breadcrumbs all the way down. They are techniques to help us focus on the main event: the story. I truly believe those who make media want it to reach the widest possible audience, and that includes all of us who like to watch every single thing ever created with our Media Analysis Goggles on and those who are just here to enjoy the twists and turns of the story at the pace offered to them. And I think, sometimes in our chase to collect and understand every little clue we forget that media is not made to just cater for us.

One can call it missing a forest for the trees. But I would hate to mix my metaphors, so let’s call it missing a schnitzel for the breadcrumbs. 

Part three. The Conspiracy Brain. 

If you are there with me, in the midst of the excited frenzy, chasing after all those delicious breadcrumbs, then patterns can grow, merge together, and become all-encompassing theories. Let’s call them conspiracy theories, even though this is not what they truly are.

So, why do we believe in conspiracy theories?

One, Because We Have Been Lied To. 

All conspiracies start with distrust.

If you are in fandom spaces - especially if you are in fandom spaces which revolve around a queer fictional couple - especially-especially if you have been in such spaces for a period of time, you have most certainly been lied to at one point or another. 

We don’t even have to talk about Sherlock - and let’s not do that - but do you remember Merlin? Because I remember Merlin. Specifically, I remember the publicity surrounding the first season, with its weaponised usage of “bromance” and assertions that this whole thing is a love story of sorts, and then the daunting realisation that this was all a stunt, deliberately orchestrated to gather viewership. 

And, because we were lied to in such a deliberate manner for such an extensive period of time, I genuinely believe that it forever altered our pattern recognition habits, because what was this if not encouragement to read into things? Now we are trained to read between the lines or see little cries for help where they might not be. Because we were told, over and over again, that we should.

(Yes, I think we are all existing in these spaces coloured by the trauma of queer-bating. I am, however, looking forward to a world where I can unlearn all of that.)

Two, Cognitive Dissonance.

The chain reaction works a bit like this: the world is wrong - it can’t possibly be wrong by coincidence - this must be on purpose - someone is responsible for it.

Being Lied To is a preamble, but cognitive dissonance is where it all originates. In so many cross-fandom theories I have noticed a four-step process:

A) this is not good

B) this author could not have made a mistake 

C) this must be done on purpose

D) here is why 

(Funny thing is, I have been on the receiving end of the small conspiracy spiral, and it is a very interesting experience. Not relevant to this conversation is the fact that a lot of my job revolves around storytelling. What is relevant is that my hobbies also revolve around storytelling. And one of them is DnD. Now, imagine my genuine shock when one of the players I am currently writing a campaign for noticed a small detail that did not make a logical sense within the complexity of the world, and latched on to it as something clearly indicating some kind of a secret subplot. Their thinking process also went a bit like this: this detail is not a good piece of writing — this DM knows how to tell stories well — this is obviously there on purpose. It was not there on purpose. I created a clumsy shorthand. I erred, in that pesky manner humans tend to. And, seeing this entire thought process recited to me directly in the moment, I felt somewhere between flattered and mortified.)

This whole line of thinking, I think, exists on a knife’s edge between veneration and brutal criticism, relentlessly dissecting everything “wrong”, with a reverent “but this is deliberate” attached to it like a vice, because it is preferable to a simple conclusion that the author let you down, in one way or another. 

Three, Intentionality 

I believe that there is no right or wrong way of engaging with stories, regardless of their medium, and assuming no one gets hurt in the process. While in a strictly academic way, there is a “correct” way of reading (and reading into) media, we here are largely not academics but consumers; consumption is subjective.

However, this all changes when intentionality is ascribed. 

The one I find particularly fascinating is the intentionality of “making it bad on purpose” because, as open-minded as I intend to always be, this just does not happen.

It certainly does not happen in long-form media. Even in the bread-crumb mystery box-type long-form media. 

When television programs underdeliver, they also underperform, and then they get cancelled.

If all the elements of Westworld Season 4 that did not sit together in a completely satisfactory way were written deliberately as some sort of deconstruction for the final season to explore, then it failed because that final season will now never come.

(There will likely never be a Secret Fourth Episode.)

And look, I am not here to refute your theories. Creativity is fun, and theorising is fantastic. 

But, perhaps, when the line of thought ventures into the “bad on purpose” territory, it could be recognised for what it is: disappointment and optimism, attempting to coexist in a single space. And I relate to that, I do, and I am sorry that there is even a need for this line of thinking. It’s always so incredibly disappointing that a creator you believed to be devoid of flaws makes something that does not hit in the way you hoped it would. It’s pretty heartbreaking. 

Unfortunately, people make mistakes. We are all fallible that way. 

Four, Wildfire.

Then, when the crumbs are found, a theory is crafted, and intentionality is ascribed, all that needs to happen is for it to catch on. And hey, what better place for it than this massive hollow funnel that we exist in, where thoughts, ideas and interpretations reverberate so much they become inextricable from the source material in collective consciousness. 

Conspiracy theories create alternate realities, very much like we all do here. 

So where are we now?

I am not here to tell you what is right and what is wrong; what is true, and what is not. We are all entitled to engage with anything we wish, in whichever way we wish to do it. This is not it, at all. 

All I am saying is… listen.

Do you hear that echo? 

I do. 

[kiiwiigii]

Table Sex

Emmett x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Emmett make the most of your alone time... unfortunately for Esme's table.

Warnings:

NSFW 18+

Smut

Cuteness

Word Count: 1.7k+

Requested?: For Kinktober!

Playful and happy table sex with Emmet like it'd be so sweet but also definitely result in a broke table 🤣

A/N: That poor, poor table.

I gave a small shriek as I did my best to out maneuver Emmett, which considering how big and burly he was, wasn't all that hard. However, he did have the advantage of speed, which I sorely lacked. I was only human after all. It wasn't long before I felt his giant hands catch me around the middle, swinging me around in a backwards bear hug.

"Okay! Okay! I give!" I giggled.

He twisted me around, lifting me up by my bum as I wrapped my legs around his waist and draped my arms around his neck.

"I told you that you couldn't escape from me." He grinned up at me, nudging my chin with his nose. "Now, what's my prize."

He gave my buns a little squeeze and I wriggled and gasped, pretending to be scandalized.

"Why Mr. Cullen! What makes you think you win anything?"

"Ooh, Mr. Cullen. I like the sound of that." He wriggled his eyebrows at me, to which I just rolled my eyes.

"You know what I like the sound of? Freedom. Now put me down, you heathen."

"Not till you tell me what my prize is."

I looked into his golden eyes, doing my best not to become mesmerized, a battle I was quickly loosing.

"Me." I sniffed, looking away rather snootily and trying not to smile. "What else would you need?"

"Perfect."

He was practically purring and my heart leaped a little in my chest. That purr usually signaled some rather… intimate activities and I looked back at Emmett with narrowed eyes.

"Emmett." I warned.

"Yes?" He replied innocently as he began to walk toward the dining room.

"What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking that everyone else is out hunting for the weekend." He began. "And I have my beautiful girl all to myself. Completely alone."

Emmett sat me down on the dining room table, keeping himself wedged between my legs as he wove his hands into my hair and tilted my head back to kiss me. I giggled, letting my hands drop down from his neck to grasp at his shirt. Which I would very much like to see gone. As if reading my mind, Emmett broke the kiss and leaned back for a moment, swiftly removing his shirt. I barely had time to admire his muscled torso before he swooped back in and kissed me again.

His cool tongue swept across my bottom lip before delving into the heat of my mouth, and I couldn't help the moan that bubbled up from inside me. I could feel him grin against my lips, giving me a playful nip. I let my hands wander across his rock hard skin, the iciness sending goosebumps through my body, my nipples tightening and begging for attention. Emmett's hands cupped my neck, his thumbs stroking across my jaw softly before exploring further downwards and cupping my breasts.

I sucked in a breath, whining a little as he gave my nipples a light pinch through the fabric of my shirt and bra.

"I think you are wearing far too many clothes, Y/N." He whispered, nipping at my ear.

"Funny," I breathed. "I was thinking the same of you."

"Hands up, baby. Before I rip your shirt off you."

"You wouldn't dare."

There was a sudden tearing sound, and my mouth popped open to see that my shirt had been ripped right open, exposing my rather lacy bra. Emmett eyed my chest greedily, licking his lips. I just glared up at him as he went to grope my breasts.

"You know Alice is gonna kill you right?"

Emmett stopped, his hands in midair as his eyes went wide in horror.

"I… I obviously did not think this through."

"No. No you did not."

"Maybe I should start running now." He smirked.

"Don't. You. Dare." I hissed at him, grabbing him by the neck so he was eye level with me once more. "You're going to finish what you started. And then you can fuck off into the wild blue yonder, and if you're lucky, you might avoid Alice's wrath."

Emmett snorted, bringing me in for a soft kiss. "I love you."

"I love you, too, baby."

He kissed me deeply, his hands slowly peeling off my shredded top and my bra following along with it. His icy hands kneading my warm flesh before pinching and rolling my nipples between his fingers. I let out a small gasp, my head falling back to expose my neck, which Emmett took full advantage of, his lips latching on and sucking. There would be bruising hickeys there in the morning, and I was certain Emmett was purposely leaving them in places where they could easily be seen.

I dug my nails into his skin softly, and suddenly I wished I was already a vampire, just so I could leave marks along his back, laying my own claim.

I felt his hands finally trail their way to other areas, one around my back and the other to cup my soaked mound through my shorts, rubbing me rather harshly with his thumb. He then kissed his way down my neck, licking and nipping until he found my nipple, sucking it into his mouth with one long swift move.

I gasped, my back arching of its own accord, silently willing Emmett to touch me more. His hand continued to rub my mound, my clit getting just the slightest bit of stimulation from the combination of the jean material and the lace of my panties rubbing against it.

"Fuck." I moaned, threading my fingers through Emmet's hair, letting my hips begin to gyrate against his hand.

Emmett groaned, biting my nipple gently before pulling back and holding his fingers to my mouth. I took them without a second thought, eyes widening when I tasted my arousal on them. I had soaked through not only my panties but my shorts as well. His eyes darkened.

"I don't think I can wait much longer, love." His voice had gone husky with need.

"Then don't," I replied, my tongue snaking out between his fingers.

Emmett growled, lifting my ass off the table and pulling my shorts and panties off swiftly, followed by his own pants and boxers. My eyes widened at the sight of him, hard and erect, just for me. He lifted my legs, pulling me right to the edge of the table. He didn't even bother trying to stretch me out before the home run. He simply slid right into me, and I gasped at the sudden intrusion.

"Emmett!" I groaned, my head falling forward onto his chest.

"Sorry, babe. I can't help it."

"Bullsh-"

I yelped as he thrust into me, setting a pace that was fast and hard. Just the way I liked it. I let out a little gasp with every thrust, the very tip of his cock brushing along that sweet spot that had me seeing stars. Before I could comprehend what was happening, Emmett had me flat on my back against the table, and he leaned all the way forward to nip at my lips and jaw. I shuddered beneath him, letting out a ragged moan as the new position caused the heat in my belly to coil, tighter and tighter with each thrust.

Emmett's hands were everywhere, stroking along my thighs, reaching to pinch and pull at my nipples, and even one hand finding its way to the juncture between my legs, rubbing and swirling around my clit, sending sparks of pleasure straight to my pussy.

I could feel something happening, something building up inside of me and I couldn't hold back the moan when it finally crested. My pussy clamped down on Emmett's cock, grinding down on it as I let the orgasm hit me full force, my body shaking with the intensity of wave after wave of pleasure.

"That's it, baby." He breathed, eyes darkening. "Keep coming for me."

"Emmett." I whined.

My body was almost electric as he continued to pump into me and I could already feel the coil beginning to tighten up again, the warmth turning into an almost unbearable heat as he continued to hit my sweet spot. I panted, pulling his lips to mine.

Emmett's next thrusts were almost brutal, slamming me down onto the table and driving himself even deeper into me.

"Fuck!"

The coil snapped again, and this time Emmett came with me, the coolness of his seed bathing my walls and dripping out of me. Suddenly Emmett was catching himself before he collapsed on top of me.

We both paused, breathing hard, and in that moment we both heard a rather ominous creaking. Emmett had just enough time for his eyes to widen before the poor table collapsed from underneath us, sending us both crashing to the floor, him still buried inside me.

For a moment we were too stunned to move.

And then the laughter set in.

I was honestly surprised it hadn't collapsed sooner.

I was completely red with embarrassment but I couldn't stop giggling. Emmett slid out of me and picked me up, careful of the debris and my delicate skin. He held me in his arms, chuckling as he assessed the damage. The table was completely ruined beyond repair, only halfway standing on the other two legs that hadn't given way to our rather… rigorous love-making.

I finally calmed down a little, my cheeks hurting from the silly grin on my face.

"Forget Alice. Esme is gonna skin you alive."

Emmett immediately stopped laughing, looking at the table with wide eyes.

"Fuck."

Suddenly I was standing alone in the dining room, and not even a second later a fully dressed Emmett was back and helping me dress in some of his clothes, since you know, he ripped mine. I spotted the suitcase next to the door and looked up at Emmett quizzically after he helped me into on of his shirts.

"Are we going somewhere?"

"Yeah." He muttered, genuine fear in his eyes.

I raised my brow at him.

"Esme would actually skin me alive and I'd rather not experience it."

Emmett started ushering me out to his Jeep and I just stared at him.

"You're at least gonna clean it up right?"

{Kinktober} // {Masterlist}

Taglist: @alecvolturi @alecvolturiswifeforever @belladonna-xox @hyperuseless @jana-jaeynneee @itsmytimetoodream @lack-lust-3r @lucansmina @pawspurpaw @pooka167 @rosedpetal @targaryenmoony @twilightlover2007

Wanna be notified when I post a new fic? Ask to join my taglist!

[fandom-lover2]

So This Is Christmas

Miko brings Christmas to the base

Word Count - 2395

AN: Merry Christmas!

“Miko, what is that?”

I glanced over lazily to the Groundbridge. Bulkhead and his charge had just stepped through the swirling green marvel of science, and said Cybertronian was, for reasons I was sure we were about to discover, holding a tree.

It was comically small, held by two of his digits like a bushy toothpick. The pine, it appeared to be, still had its roots attached and was losing soil with every step the green titan took.

“A Christmas tree, duh.” Miko answered Jack, like he was an idiot.

To be fair, he often times was. But I also wouldn’t have guessed that either so.

I pulled the lolly pop from my mouth. “Why the hell did you bring it here?”

“Dudes!” Miko exclaimed, spreading her hands out and looking at us like we were the bane of her existence. “It’s Christmas! We have to get into the spirit.”

“Halloween was yesterday.” Raf answered, not looking away from the TV, he and Bumblebee deep into a new video game he got for his birthday.

“And we don’t have anything to decorate it with.” Jack added.

“It’ll be dead by Christmas.” I ended, putting the candy ball back in my mouth.

“You all suck.” Despite that, she still continued up the stairs towards us.

Bulkhead was still holding the tree, looking extremely uncomfortable as he tried to not jostle it too much.

“You can put it down Bulk.” I gestured to a spot in the corner of the base, getting comfortable in my seat again.

“What is wrong with you?” Miko started, marching over to us humans. “It’s gonna be Christmas soon. We gotta get this place ready.”

“For who, Santa?” Jack teased, and Raf snickered. I rolled my eyes at them, looking down at my book again.

“Miko, Raf is flying to Mexico for Christmas, Jack’s mom has the day off and I’m going to Texas. No one is gonna be here to celebrate with-”

I cut myself off, the realization slapping me in the face.

Miko was alone for Christmas. Yes, sure she had her host parents, but they weren’t family. I didn’t even know if they celebrated the holiday. They definitely wouldn’t let her pull a 10 foot tree from Canada and stick it in the living room.

I didn’t know what the Japanese traditions for Christmas were, but I understood the seasonal depression that came with this time of year, especially when you were away from family for it. Even in sunny Nevada, it had nothing to do with the weather bringing down people’s moods.

We were her family. And Primus help us all, we would support her.

Snapping my book shut, I stood up with an unnecessary grunt and placed my half sucked lolly pop back in it’s wrapper. “Alright Meeks, you’re right. It’s gonna be Christmas soon and this place is huge. We gotta get started somewhere.”

I wouldn’t trade anything for the memory of how her eyes lit up.

“Why are you on board?” Jack questioned, side eyeing me as if I’d grown a second head.

“Because I’m not The Grinch.” I shot back, beginning down the stairs behind Miko.

It took about an hour and back-up from Bulkhead but we finally had the tree somewhat standing off to the side of the base, its roots messily sawn off and balancing inside an old empty energon cube, desert sand keeping it lopsidedly upright.

“We’ll have to get some ornaments.” I said, taking a couple steps back to size up the challenge.

“Can I make some?” Miko pleaded.

I shrugged, “Do whatever you want.”

“I don’t think I have enough at my house to cover the whole tree.” Jack chimed in, coming to stand beside us.

“Nice of you to join us after the work is done.” I mumbled to him. “I can bring some from my place to. We don’t decorate anymore.”

“I’m sure I can find some too.” Raf spoke up, having walked with Jack.

The four of us stood, admiring our bare tree when Optimus and Ratchet walked into the main area, both deep in conversation as they read over the data pads in their servos.

“What is that?” Ratchet quired, stopping abruptly.

“Christmas tree.” Raf answered.

“Naked Christmas tree.” Jack added.

“And why is in here?” The medic asked, the disgust dripping from his tone. I could imagine the lecture incoming.

“These humans have no respect, turning this base into a junk yard with all their scrap and human nonsense!”

Had to hand it to Optimus, he did a pretty good job of handling the grumpy bot most days. But once this tree started losing pine needles everywhere, not even he would be able to get Ratchet to chill.

“We’re trying to get into the Christmas spirit.” I supplied.

“What’s Christmas?” Arcee asked, having just emerged from the tunnels as well, having been on inventory duty this morning.

“An old fat guy dressed in red breaks into your house and leaves presents or coal, depending on if you’ve been good or bad.” Jack helpfully explained.

The look of horror on each bot’s face was pure comedy and I was sad I didn’t been filming it.

“And that tree allows him to break in?” Bulkhead questioned.

“Kinda. It tells him we want him to.” Raf pushed his glasses on his nose up again.

“Why would you want him to break in?” We’d finally done it. We had Ratchet questioning our sanity for real.

“Duh! Presents!” Miko smirked at the medic, and I briefly wondered if I’d need to warn her to duck.

I glanced over to Optimus and he was visibly going through a crisis. I guess confessing that we were trying to get someone to break into his super secure base would do that to a team leader.

“We’re just kidding.” I decided to finally intercept. “It’s not real. Those are just stories based on an old legend. Really, we decorate a tree and then exchange gifts. It’s just a time to spend with family and friends, to prepare for winter and bring some joy before the hard months ahead.”

This seemed to relax the bots a bit.

Bumblebee spoke, though I did not understand him.

“Right Bee, it’s just a story. Santa won’t actually break in.” Raf answered the scout.

“Why would you have such a story then?” Ratchet snapped, moving to his work station.

“Human nonsense” was pissing him off again. He should expect this stuff from us by now. Just trying to get through Halloween last week had been a mission. You’d think for his own sanity he’d just accept humans were weird.

“Tradition. Legends. Something to keep the magic alive and keep kids full of wonder and innocence.”

To humans, those notions made sense. To him, it was just a cruel trick of sugarcoating the hard truths because the adults didn’t have the guts to tell it how it was.

“It’s a waste of time.” he grumbled, turning his focus onto his consol.

“We haven’t even begun…”

Jack’s warning had him turning back to us with a raised brow.

------

“Y/n.”

I hummed in reply to Optimus, continuing to look out his passenger side window at the desert night rolling past. Optimus was decided he’d drive me home tonight, rather than me catching a ride with one of the others like usual.

“Are you certain that this… tree will not invite anyone to attempt to enter the base?” The Autobot leader questioned, sounding unsure of himself as he asked this.

I fought the smile, turning in my seat to look at his rearview mirror, which he turned towards me as his way of ‘looking’ at me in this form.

“I promise you Optimus. The tree is just a tradition. Nothing and no one is going to be invited by a lit up tree and try to get in.”

“If you are sure.” The Prime replied.

It was silent for a few more minutes, but I could feel Optimus burning to question me on it.

“Many cultures have different origins of Christmas, how it started, what it means. For the most part nowadays it’s just a holiday where people eat good food with friends and family and exchange gifts as a form of expressing gratitude for the love and support shown during the year. The decorating is just part of the deal, getting everyone in the mood to celebrate.”

I could feel Optimus thinking over what I’d said, making it make sense in his mind as he turned what I’d said into Cybertronian terms and trying to match it to any customs he’d had on his home planet. Apparently he came up empty because he didn’t mention any.

“So, Christmas is a time of leisure?” he questioned finally, summarizing what I’d said.

“Yes. A time to relax and look back at the year passed. One final big holiday to give us a push to make it to the end of year before we begin the new one in January.”

Optimus was quiet for a while, only the steady rumble of his engine and his tires rolling across the road to let me know he was still awake.

“Can you describe more about Christmas?” he finally asked.

Still a data clerk at heart, I smiled.

I began telling Optimus all I knew, what traditions from different cultures I could remember, how my family did the holiday as opposed to other families I’d heard of. I chose to not comment when I noticed Optimus was taking the long long way to my house, wanting me to keep talking as long as possible. I would have stayed up all night talking to him if that’s what he wanted.

Finally, after he’d spent an hour aimlessly driving through town, he pulled to a stop at my house.

“And that’s Christmas.” I ended, taking a deep breath.

Optimus remained quiet for a few moments, then released a deep hum, as if I’d dropped some deep wisdom on him. “Thank you.”

“Don’t worry too much about it.” I leaned over and opened his door, preparing to jump down. “It’s still almost two months away.”

“Plenty of time for Miko to cause all kinds of trouble.”

My laughter echoed down the street as my feet hit the side walk. “Goodnight, Optimus.”

“Goodnight, Little One.”

------

“Merry Christmas!” the four of us cheered, all pulling at the same time.

Four snaps, and four Christmas crackers popped open. We all laughed, opening up our obnoxiously colored cardboard cylinders. We put on the tacky crowns, Raf removing his Santa hat and Miko taking off her antler headband. Jack was wearing tacky plastic glasses with little Santa hats on them. I had an elf’s hat on, and took it off in favor of the crown.

We each wore knitted Christmas sweaters, hand made as a gift from Raf’s mom for ‘his good friends’.

All around us, the base looked like Rudolph threw up. Lights, streamers, tinsel and garland. Who knew Agent Fowler was such a Christmas fanatic?

After he found out about the tree, he’d dropped off crates of supplies. It’d taken hours, and I thought at one point Ratchet might actually act on his threats of violence, but in the end the base was nicely illuminated for the holiday.

Our tree was, to my surprise, still alive and now on the catwalks, lit up and with a crudely drawn (curtesy of Miko) Starscream as the tree topper.

Four different households, plus the military contribution, made up the ornaments. It looked good, if you liked complete and utter chaos. But it had been a fun day decorating it. Optimus had even helped hang a ball or two, lifting Miko so she could place her Star(scream).

Now, the last weekend we had together before Raf and I were set to fly Tuesday, we were having a sleepover and having an early Christmas.

We each took a turn to read the bad jokes, trying not to laugh at how bad they were. Then, we moved on to the games that came with them. And then, dinner.

Mrs. Esquivel and Nurse Darby had provided most of the meal, both happy to contribute to our good time. Agent Fowler had stopped by earlier today to play Santa (yes, he wore the red suit and fake beard and everything. Bulkhead almost swung at the poor guy. Apparently, he’d been having nightmares about Santa coming into the base and leaving coal at his berthroom door) and dropped off enough desserts and treats to last us a lifetime.

The meal was accompanied by laughter, and shared stories of previous failed Christmas stories from different families. The bots stood around, some actually paying attention and asking questions, one pretending he wasn’t.

And finally, to the gift exchange. Somehow, all four of us had gotten stuff for the bots, without actually discussing whether or not we would. Most of them were impractical, and useless (why would Ratchet even want an air freshener Miko?) but they nonetheless showed appreciation, and actually seemed to really enjoy the gifts. Optimus in particular seemed pleased with the mythology and holiday traditions book I got him, questioning when we could begin reading it together.

Miko had gotten Bulk a new CD for their favorite band so they could rock out together. Jack got new, better helmet, so he and Arcee could “go faster”, like they didn’t already. Raf got Bee a poster of a video game they both played often.

The gifts us humans got for each other were stupid, nothing of value or anything we could actually use, but it was fun and they became prized possessions.

After hours of screwing around with our new gifts and playing some Christmas games, I made the popcorn while Jack got the lights and we all cuddled under the blankets, settling in for Home Alone with all the bots seated behind us and invested in the movie.

Slowly, one by one, everyone began to drift off or sneak away to their berthrooms. I could feel the pull of sleep and shifted slightly, trying to get comfortable with Jack on my left shoulder and Raf’s head in my lap.

Then, a gentle servo reached over and caressed my forehead. “Sleep, Little One.”

I looked over to my guardian, a dopey grin on my face. “Goodnight Optimus. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas.”  

[kaces-graham-crackers]

Stirring the Quiet - Tangled Thoughts, Clear Hearts

Jenna Ortega x Female Reader

Summary: Days have passed since the run-in with Jenna's friends, and Y/N is still reeling from the unexpected "grilling." With the fall festival next weekend, there's excitement but nerves, too. Amid taco nights and family teasing, Y/N's mind keeps circling back to Jenna and where things might be headed. But just when Y/N thinks they’ve got it figured out, a simple text from Jenna hints at something more—if Y/N's ready to take the leap.

Word Count: 3.8k

The familiar chime of keys jingling in my hand as I unlocked the doors to The Daily Grind felt like the start of any other morning. Wilma and I stepped inside, the café still bathed in the soft, early morning glow. It was peaceful, calm—before the chaos of the day began.

Wilma flicked on the lights and headed straight for the kitchen. “I’ll start on the pastries. You got the coffee?”

I nodded, already moving toward the espresso machine. “On it.”

The morning routine was easy, familiar. It helped distract me from the whirlwind of thoughts that had been swirling in my head since the run-in with Emma and Melissa. I knew why they’d grilled me that day—testing my character, sizing me up to make sure I wasn’t playing games with Jenna. The whole thing still made me laugh a little, now that the intensity of it had passed.

But still, it left an impression.

Wilma popped her head out of the kitchen, eyeing me as I spaced out again. “You good? You’re staring off into space like you’re waiting for something to happen.”

I shook myself out of it. “Yeah, just thinking about the other day.”

Wilma raised an eyebrow. “You mean when Emma Myers and Melissa Barrera came in? You still stuck on that?”

“Kind of,” I admitted, pausing to lean against the counter. “I know they were testing me. You know, for Jenna. Just wanted to see if I had good intentions or whatever.”

Wilma smirked, wiping her hands on her apron. “Sounds like they take protecting their friend seriously.”

I nodded, a small smile creeping up. “Yeah, I get it. But they really threw me off. I wasn’t expecting it.”

She chuckled, disappearing back into the kitchen. “Well, it sounds like you passed the test. Guess they know you’re not a player.”

“Yeah,” I muttered to myself. “Guess so.”

Even though I knew they were just looking out for Jenna, it still weighed on me. Jenna was a big deal—bigger than I’d ever thought. And having her friends throw me into an interrogation, even under the guise of acting, made me realize how seriously they took her happiness.

And now, here I was, not just thinking about what Jenna might feel—but how I felt too.

I busied myself with brewing coffee and prepping the counter for the first wave of customers, trying to focus on the normal rhythm of the morning. But it was hard to shake the weight of it all. I didn’t mind that her friends cared so much. In fact, it made me admire Jenna even more, seeing how loyal and protective her circle was.

What I couldn’t figure out yet was how I fit into that picture.

Sure, Jenna had shown interest—at least, I was pretty sure she had. The lingering touches, the way she looked at me, the way she’d said I was different. All signs pointed to something more than friendship. But there was still that little voice in the back of my head, the one that nagged at me, questioning everything.

Would this really go anywhere? Did someone like Jenna, with her fame, her life in the spotlight, have room for someone like me? And even if she did, could I handle it? The attention, the scrutiny—it was all so far from the life I was used to.

I wiped down the counter, trying to shake the thoughts away, but they clung to me like stubborn shadows. As I finished prepping, Wilma popped up beside me, holding a tray of fresh pastries.

“You’ve been in your head all morning,” she observed, her tone light but probing. “Wanna talk about it?”

I glanced at her, shrugging slightly. “It’s just... everything with Jenna. I don’t know, Wilma. I feel like I’m overthinking it.”

Wilma raised an eyebrow, placing the tray on the counter and leaning against the wall. “Overthinking? What’s there to overthink? She likes you, right? And from what I can tell, you like her.”

I sighed, leaning against the counter. “Yeah, but it’s not that simple. I mean, look at her life. It’s so different from mine. I’m just a barista, and she’s... well, she’s Jenna Ortega.”

Wilma gave me a sympathetic smile. “Y/N, you’re not ‘just a barista.’ You’re you, and that’s why she likes you. You don’t have to fit into her world perfectly. If anything, she’s probably looking for something real, something outside of all the Hollywood craziness. And that’s what you give her.”

Her words made sense, but there was still that lingering doubt in my chest. “I guess. I just don’t want to get my hopes up, you know? I’ve been burned before.”

Wilma’s expression softened, and she reached out, placing a hand on my arm. “I get it. But you can’t let fear of the past ruin something good now. Jenna seems like she’s really into you. You just have to trust that and see where it goes.”

I nodded, appreciating her support. “Thanks, Wilma. I just... I don’t want to mess this up.”

“You won’t,” she said with a reassuring smile. “Just be yourself. That’s all you need to do.”

I smiled back, feeling a little lighter. Maybe she was right. Maybe I was overthinking things. Jenna had been clear about wanting to spend time with me, and her friends had given me the third degree—which, in a weird way, was a sign that they cared about her and maybe even wanted to see if I was the real deal. That had to mean something.

The bell above the door chimed, and the first wave of customers started trickling in, pulling me back into the routine of work. But even as I poured coffee and rang up orders, the thoughts of Jenna lingered, like a low hum in the background of my mind.

Later that afternoon, I was taking a quick break in the back when my phone buzzed. I pulled it out, expecting a text from Wilma or one of my brothers, but my heart skipped when I saw Jenna’s name pop up.

I unlocked my phone, and the message made my heart flutter.

Jenna: Hey, what are you doing this next weekend? There's a fall festival in town, and I thought would be fun to check it out. Want to go with me?

A festival? The thought of walking through a fall festival with Jenna, surrounded by cozy autumn vibes, sounded perfect.

I quickly typed back, immediately.

Y/N: That sounds amazing. I’m totally down. What day were you thinking?

A few seconds later, my phone buzzed again.

Jenna: Saturday afternoon? It’s supposed to have food trucks, live music, and carnival games. We could just hang out and see where the night takes us.

I smiled, the excitement bubbling up inside me.

Y/N: I’m in! I can’t wait. Saturday it is.

After sending the message, I found myself grinning like an idiot, unable to stop thinking about how much fun next weekend was going to be. The idea of spending the day with Jenna, surrounded by the crisp fall air, pumpkins, and carnival lights, felt like something out of a dream.

As I tucked my phone back into my pocket and returned to work, my mind was already racing with thoughts of what the day might bring.

Two days later, I was back in the kitchen with Marcus and Caleb, prepping for a taco night instead of our usual routine meals. Mr. Noodles, as always, was perched on top of the fridge, his eyes darting back and forth between us as if supervising our cooking process. Caleb was working on the seasoned beef, adding his special blend of spices, while Marcus was busy chopping up vegetables, humming some random tune.

The smell of fresh tortillas and sizzling meat filled the air, making the kitchen feel warm and homey. But as much as I tried to focus on cooking, my mind kept wandering back to the fall festival and the fact that I’d be hanging out with Jenna.

“I can practically see the gears turning in your head,” Marcus said, breaking my thoughts. He wasn’t even looking at me, still focused on chopping tomatoes. “Thinking about your big day with Jenna?”

Caleb, always the more thoughtful one, glanced over from the stove. “He’s got a point, Ken. You’ve been pretty quiet for someone with a big weekend coming up.”

I shook my head, trying to brush it off. “I’m just... thinking. And it’s not a big deal.”

Marcus grinned, clearly not buying it. “Uh-huh. Just a ‘casual hangout’ with a mega-famous actress. Totally not a big deal.”

I groaned, rolling my eyes. “You guys are making it sound way bigger than it is. It’s just a festival.”

Caleb smirked, stirring the taco meat. “Sure, but it’s not every day you go to a festival with Jenna Ortega. It’s okay to admit you’re nervous.”

Before I could respond, my phone buzzed with an incoming FaceTime call. I glanced down and saw it was from Mom. “Uh-oh,” I muttered, grabbing my phone. “Mom’s calling.”

Marcus’s eyes lit up. “Oh, this should be good.”

I answered the call, and immediately, my mom’s face filled the screen, her usual bright smile greeting me. “Hey, sweetie! How’s everything going?”

“Hey, Mom,” I replied, trying to keep the conversation casual as Marcus and Caleb exchanged amused glances. “We’re just making tacos.”

Dad’s voice boomed in the background. “Tacos, huh? Save some for us!”

I laughed, and just as I was about to respond, my little sister Layla’s face popped into view, her excitement practically vibrating through the phone. “Y/N! Marcus told us you have a date with Jenna Ortega! Is it true?”

I shot Marcus a glare, and he just grinned innocently, continuing to chop vegetables. “Seriously?” I mouthed at him.

Layla’s squeal of excitement pierced the air. “I knew it! You’re going on a date with a movie star! This is so cool! Can you get her autograph for me?”

My face heated up, and I rubbed my temples, trying to keep calm. “It’s not a date, Layla. We’re just hanging out.”

But before I could explain further, Mom’s face appeared on the screen again, her smile even bigger now. “Ken, that’s wonderful! I’m so glad you’re getting out there again. It’s about time.”

Dad chuckled in the background. “You better make a good impression. Who knows? Maybe she’ll be the one.”

I groaned internally, feeling the weight of everyone’s excitement. “Guys, please, it’s not like that. We’re just going to a festival. No big deal. Casual hangout”

“Right,” Marcus chimed in, clearly enjoying this. “Just a casual outing with one of the most famous actresses in the world. Totally normal.”

Layla squealed again. “Y/N, this is awesome! You’re dating someone rich! Can you imagine all the fancy places you could go?”

I facepalmed, the teasing from my family getting worse by the second. “Layla, please. I’m still figuring things out.”

Mom chuckled, her voice softening. “We’re just happy for you, sweetie. You deserve to have fun.”

Layla was still practically bouncing off the walls. “You have to tell me all about it, okay? Even if she’s not Tom Holland, this is still huge!”

I sighed, finally giving in. “Fine, I’ll tell you about it. But seriously, it’s not as big of a deal as you’re all making it.”

Dad grinned, giving me a playful wink. “We’ll be the judge of that.”

As the teasing continued, Caleb and Marcus were grinning from ear to ear, clearly loving every minute of my embarrassment. Mr. Noodles, meanwhile, had managed to sneak closer to the plate of cheese, and Marcus had to shoo him away quickly.

After a few more minutes of chaotic family chatter, I finally ended the call, feeling both exasperated and oddly comforted by their excitement.

I turned to Marcus, narrowing my eyes. “You just had to spill the beans, didn’t you?”

He shrugged, not even pretending to be sorry. “Hey, where’s the fun in keeping secrets?”

Caleb chuckled, handing me a taco shell. “Don’t worry, Ken. We’re just happy for you.”

I sighed, taking the taco and rolling my eyes. “You guys are impossible.”

Marcus raised his taco in a mock toast. “Here’s to your ‘casual hangout’ with Jenna.”

I couldn’t help but laugh despite the embarrassment. Deep down, though, I was already feeling a mix of excitement and nerves about the weekend.

Whatever was going to happen, it was clear that my family—and Mr. Noodles—would have plenty to say about it.

Later that evening, after the chaos of dinner and the endless teasing had died down, I found myself curled up on the couch with Mr. Noodles resting comfortably on my lap. His steady purring was a welcome comfort after the whirlwind of emotions the past few days had stirred up. I absentmindedly scratched behind his ears as I scrolled through my phone, trying to unwind.

It wasn’t the festival yet, but the anticipation still hung in the air, making it hard to focus on anything else. My mind kept drifting back to Jenna, replaying every conversation, every moment we’d shared. Was I reading too much into things? Or was there something real between us?

My phone buzzed with a notification, and I glanced down, expecting it to be another message from Marcus with more teasing. But to my surprise, it was a text from Jenna.

Jenna: Hey! Hope you’re free this weekend. I was thinking we could check out this new art exhibit downtown. I heard it’s really cool, and maybe grab some coffee after?

A smile tugged at my lips. It wasn’t a festival or anything grand, but the idea of spending time with her, doing something as simple as visiting an art exhibit, felt… right. I quickly typed a response, trying to play it cool even though my heart was doing little flips in my chest.

Y/N: That sounds great! I’d love to. What time were you thinking?

She replied almost immediately.

Jenna: How about Friday around noon? We can make a whole afternoon of it if you’re up for it.

Y/N: Sounds perfect. Can’t wait!

As soon as I hit send, a wave of nervous excitement washed over me. It wasn’t just about hanging out with her anymore—it felt like something more.

I spent the rest of the evening thinking about how things had shifted between us, from casual coffee shop chats to this. It was strange, but in the best way possible.

Friday came faster than I expected, and by the time I was getting ready, the nervous excitement had hit full force. Caleb and Marcus, of course, were no help as they hovered around, watching me like vultures.

“So,” Marcus started, leaning against my bedroom doorframe with a grin. “Big day with Jenna, huh?”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t hide my smile. “It’s not a date.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Caleb said, smirking as he fluffed a pillow on my bed for no reason at all. “But if it were a date, hypothetically, you’d want to look good, right?”

I glanced at them both, trying to suppress a laugh. “Hypothetically.”

Marcus gave me a once-over and nodded. “Well, you’re looking date-ready to me.”

“Guys, it’s just an art exhibit..”

“Uh-huh.” Caleb exchanged a knowing look with Marcus. “Whatever you say, Y/N.”

I sighed, grabbing my jacket and throwing it over my shoulder. “Okay, I’m heading out before you two drive me crazy.”

Marcus gave me a mock salute. “Good luck, sis. You’ve got this.”

“Thanks, I guess?” I muttered, shaking my head as I headed for the door. Mr. Noodles meowed from his perch on the windowsill, watching me go with what I could only describe as mild disinterest.

When I arrived at the art gallery, Jenna was already waiting outside, dressed in a casual yet effortlessly stylish outfit, as always. She spotted me and waved with that signature smile that always made my heart skip a beat.

“Hey!” she greeted as I approached. “You ready to be blown away by some modern art?”

I grinned. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

We spent the next couple of hours wandering through the exhibit, making comments about the more abstract pieces and laughing at our completely amateur interpretations. Jenna’s knowledge of art was impressive, though she played it down, explaining how her mom had always taken her to galleries when she was younger.

It was easy being with her—comfortable, even when the conversation dipped into deeper topics. As we moved from room to room, I couldn’t help but feel like this was the kind of moment you didn’t get often—something simple, but meaningful.

After the exhibit, we grabbed coffee at a nearby café, sitting by the window as we sipped our drinks. The conversation flowed as naturally as ever, and before I knew it, hours had passed.

So,” Jenna said, her tone a bit more serious as she swirled her cup. “I’ve been meaning to ask... how are things going? You know, with The Daily Grind, and everyone?”

I looked at her, sensing that she wasn’t just asking about my day. “Things are... good. Busy, but good. And you?”

Jenna smiled softly, her eyes meeting mine. “Same. But it’s been nice... having someone to talk to. Someone who gets it.”

I felt a warmth spread through my chest, a feeling that seemed to be happening more and more whenever we talked. But there was something different in the way she said it this time. Her gaze lingered on mine, and for a brief moment, I thought I saw something flicker in her eyes.

Before I could respond, Jenna shifted slightly in her seat, her fingers tracing the rim of her coffee cup. “Actually, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.” Her voice had a softer, more hesitant edge to it.

I tilted my head, intrigued. “What’s up?”

She bit her lip, almost like she was searching for the right words. “You remember when we first started hanging out? It felt... I don’t know, casual. But lately... I’ve been thinking it’s something more than that. Maybe it always has been, and I didn’t want to admit it.”

My heart pounded in my chest as I tried to process what she was saying. Was she about to say what I thought she was? Was this actually happening?

“I know I’ve been careful about keeping things... low-key,” she continued, her eyes still locked on mine. “But I’ve realized I don’t want to pretend anymore. I don’t want to overthink everything just because of how complicated my life is.”

I swallowed hard, my voice barely above a whisper. “What are you saying, Jenna?”

Jenna let out a small, nervous laugh, running a hand through her hair. “I guess what I’m trying to say is... I like you, Y/N. More than just a friend. And I’ve been trying to figure out if you feel the same way, or if I’m just imagining things.”

I blinked, stunned for a moment. Of all the things I’d imagined happening today, this was not one of them. Jenna Ortega, the girl who had been the subject of all my daydreams for the past few months, was sitting across from me, confessing her feelings. For me.

A grin spread across my face as my nervousness faded. I leaned in, gently placing a hand on hers. "You're not imagining things, Jenna," I said softly, my heart racing. "I’ve felt the same for a while. I wasn’t sure if I knew fully or was ready for it."

Jenna’s eyes widened in surprise, but a bright smile broke across her face. “Really? You’ve... felt the same?”

I nodded, my own smile growing. “Yeah. I didn’t want to push anything, especially since I know your life is crazy and complicated. But... yeah. I like you, Jenna. A lot.”

Her smile softened into something more tender, wrapping her fingers around mine and holding my hand. "I'm really glad you said that."

For a moment, we just sat there, the world outside the café falling away as we looked at each other. It was like everything had shifted between us in the span of a few sentences, but in the best possible way.

“Does this mean...” I started, trying to piece together what this meant for us. “That we’re...?”

Jenna laughed softly, her eyes twinkling. “Let’s just say we’re taking a step forward. I don’t want to rush anything, but I also don’t want to hold back anymore.”

I nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over me. “I’m okay with that.”

We both sat back, the tension in the air replaced by something lighter, something that felt like the start of something new.

“There’s something else I’ve been meaning to tell you,” Jenna said, her tone shifting to something more serious.

I tilted my head, curious. “Yeah?”

She hesitated, fiddling with her bracelet for a moment before looking up at me. “I’ve been offered a pretty big role. It’s... out of the country, though. And it’s long-term.”

My stomach did a small flip. “Out of the country? For how long?”

Jenna sighed. “Six months, maybe longer. It’s a dream project, but I didn’t want to bring it up until I knew for sure. And now it’s official.”

I blinked, trying to process the information. “Wow. That’s... amazing, Jenna. But... six months?”

She gave a small nod, her eyes searching mine for a reaction. “Yeah, I know. It’s a lot to take in. I don’t even know how to feel about it yet. On one hand, it’s such a huge opportunity, but on the other...”

I didn’t know what to say for a second, my mind racing with thoughts. “You’re going to take it, right?”

Jenna looked down, biting her lip. “I think so. But I wanted to tell you first. I didn’t want to just... disappear without you knowing what was going on.”

I sat back, taking in her words. It felt like a heavy shift, something neither of us had been expecting. Six months was a long time, and part of me wasn’t sure how to feel about it. But at the same time, this was a huge step for Jenna, and I knew how much her work meant to her.

“I’m glad you told me,” I said, my voice steady. “It sounds like an incredible opportunity. I’m proud of you.”

Jenna smiled softly, relief washing over her face. “Thanks. I just didn’t want you to think I was... leaving, you know?”

I nodded, understanding the unspoken weight behind her words. This wasn’t just about the project; it was about us—whatever this was it was getting serious. And while the news felt like a curveball, it didn’t change how I felt. Not in the slightest.

“Well, we’ll figure it out,” I said, offering her a reassuring smile. “Whatever happens, we’ll figure it out.”

Jenna’s smile grew, and I saw a flicker of hope in her eyes for the first time since the conversation started. “Yeah. We will.”

[vengefultakeover]

Should Have Been Faster

I pushed my coworker down on the bed and was unbuttoning his shirt after ripping it out of his waistband. He moaned and pulled my ear to his mouth, saying, "Fuck, I've been waiting all week for this."

"Me too," I grinned, my hands tossing his tie to the side, but it fell down against his open shirt. I stepped back and crossed my arms, looking him over. We had this arrangement where I would pick up some of the work he didn't want to do, and on the weekends, he would let me possess his body. We have been doing it for so long that now he likes taking the passenger seat every week, and it's less of a trade-off for me.

"So you really want this?" I said, standing there.

"Come on dude, you know the deal." He tried pulling me in, but I pulled back.

"Nah, I think you get more out of this than I do now." I smirked.

"No way." He shook his head.

"Yeah, I think we need to change our terms." I pointed at him.

"Can you just get in me please?" He was starting to get irritated leaning back with his tie keeping his shirt around his neck.

"Fine, fine," I rolled my eyes, jumping onto him. I rubbed my hands together before pushing my whole weight onto his chest. His head fell back, and he was moaning as his skin absorbed me. I rippled into him, his muscles tightening as he grinned. The feeling of ecstasy made it much easier to slip my limbs into his. My legs disappeared inside, and his body bulged out in areas as I slid my body into a comfortable position inside of him. He opened his eyes and gasped as I kicked out what I called his essence. It was something like his spirit or his consciousness, invisible and floating without a body now that I inhabited his.

"Every time it feels amazing." He said. It was easy to smile as the rush of possessing him tingled along my borrowed skin. My cock twitched as I looked up at the for of the original owner of this body. He liked to watch, admiring what he had done to keep his body in shape as I enjoyed it. I would sometimes jump inside and then he would allow me to invite someone over, using his body in ways he never intended.

"And you feel so good every time." My abs tightened when I brushed my fingers over them, lightely tracing them before I slithered my fingers around my hard manhood. I felt it pulsing in my grip, stroking and moaning. I was putting on a show, flexing and moaning like I was doing this for views. A pornstar exaggerating the sounds of his pleasure for those that enjoyed a passionate moan. Each stroke sent a rush of feeling throughout my body, and the closer I got the edge the more I was feeling myself detach from him. This is what I liked doing, entering him and then once I use his cock I let myself get kicked out. I'm actually quite good at keeping control through the pleasure, but there was something about exiting his body and leaving it limp as he leaks out the load I milked out.

"Fuck you're gonna cum." He was floating above me.

"Fuck yeah." I liked that he knew, that he could see how his body would react to my touch and realizing I was about to bust. Just as I felt the shivers of pleasure, I released, my load landing all over his abs as I squeezed myself out of him. I popped right out, a burst of energy as I landed on my feet right in front. His body went limp with his hand tight around his cock. He laughed as he looked at me.

"I should try to get in you like this." He laughed.

"You better hurry before - " I pointed towards the window and in came a large burly essence. It was another spirit of some sort, one that must have been watching. There was just enough time for the large ghost to dive into his body, a bright light emitting from his chest before a random ghost took control.

"Holy, it worked!" He looked down at himself, his hands sliding over his muscles and his fingers becoming slick from my load. 

"What the fuck?" My co-worker tried to get back inside his own body, but it was too late for him.

"You should have been faster." The guy said, looking up at the spirit of the real owner and then over to me.

"Hm. Interesting." I said, stepping closer.

"Wait!" He stopped me just as I was getting ready to kick him out.

"Dude, what are you doing? Kick him out and let me back in!" The spirit was floating behind me now, begging me to get his body back.

"What if you let me keep him and I become your personal little slut." The large ghost now inhabiting the body of my coworker reached out and cupped my bulge. I felt it pulse as he squeezed. I was squinting at him as the all of the possible outcomes of this situation flashed before my eyes, all of them making me lean towards letting this random spirit keep this body. 

"Are you really thinking about it?" My co-worker was getting agitated.

"Anything you want, I can make it happen." The stranger was unzipping my fly and slipping his fingers inside. I reached out, jamming my fingers into his abs and making him gasp as he felt himself getting kicked out, but just as he looked afraid I went in and made out with him. 

"What the fuck?" My co-worker was trying desperately to get back inside, his essence bouncing off his body.

"That kind of tickes." The stranger said, going back into the kiss.

"It's just a little fun. Stick around and watch or maybe there is someone out there willing to let you in." I looked up at the spirit of my co-worker, grinning evily with his real body being inhabited by some other ghost. I was grinding against him when the ghost pushed me off.

"I'm all yours." He said, his eyes full of lust.

I got close to his ear, my breath hot against his skin, and said, "He's all yours. But you are all mine." I reached down and squeezed his cock, making him squirm underneath me as I was pushing myself against him. The essence of my co-worker was gone, having desperately gone out into the world to find something to inhabit. This new arrangement was definitely going to lean in my favor.

[weebsinstash]

You know, as a series that keeps popping back up inside of my mind every so often, and a series I hope Studio Orange continues, I think one of the most niche "Reader x yandere/yandere community" ideas I've ever had was the idea of Reader being the very last human on Earth, either through cryogenic freezing or some other sciencey bullshit, and the gems being extraordinarily fascinated by you and everything that you do while trying to take care of you, thinking you're just WAY too fragile and cute to risk getting hurt

And by "the gems" I mean THESE gems

The gems are just very intriguing and entertaining explicitly nonhuman characters, especially if you read the manga (which was still running when I was reading it but I think has since finished, so I still need to finish it myself) where it starts going into deeper themes of the gems wanting to find a purpose and the reason for why they exist, but also the very nature of how they came to be and where the former human civilization has gone and what the formidable Lunarians want by kidnapping them

I always liked the idea of these curious joyful often goober-ish shiny little murder machines running into a human and being oh so curious about you, wanting to play games with you, ask you all sorts of questions, and of course your primary caretaker would be Sensei, who basically won't leave your side since protecting humans is one of his core functions. He would have to make sure none of the gems got too rough with you, since you can't be simply glued back together

Just imagining all of the gems in happy peaceful bliss and then something extremely accidental happens. You fall down a set of stairs and sprain your ankle. You get accidentally pushed down a hill and break your arm. Suddenly all the Lustrous have their little fantasy world shattered as you lay there screaming in pain. None of them know what physical pain is. None of them can understand what you're going through. All they can see is that, it really, REALLY doesn't take that much to... break pieces of you

So long, the days of you being left alone, hello the days of being manually examined for any scratches, bruises, or bumps to make sure you "don't get broken again". God forbid some horrible accident happens where you lose a limb or a finger or something because NOW they know it's not just a matter of how easily you can be broken, but how, you can only heal so much, and some parts of you can break... forever. You'll be under the watchful eye of the Lustrous until you die of old age or natural causes, and that's IF you don't perish in some Lunarian-related disaster first, and even THEY might have a vested interest in taking you to the moon (where you would realistically immediately suffocate, freeze, and die, but like, we can pretend they have oxygen up there or something--)

[fuzzyautumninmetal]

Loving Husband pt 5

Olderhusband!Price 🤝 YoungerWife!Reader 🤝 Slight angst

I lowkey kinda made myself cry writing this also writers block sucks ass!!

Cw - slight mention of birth, being cut (not self harm!)

Part 4 Part 6

You and John had been living in your new home for three months now, the excitement of moving and setting up your life together still fresh in your mind.

At six months along, you look and feel like you're ready to pop any day now. The doctors have told you to take it easy, and John has taken this order to heart. You're only allowed to walk, nothing more strenuous than that. It's frustrating, being confined to such a limited range of motion, but John's dedication to your health and the health of your unborn children is unwavering.

It's this selflessness, this love, that makes you fall in love with John all over again. You had no idea when you married him that he would be such a devoted husband and father. But here he is, taking care of you in every way possible, always putting your needs above his own.

Standing beside you, John watched as you carefully moved around the house. The pregnancy glow suited you, highlighting the curves of your body and bringing out the softness in your features. Even when you were irritated by the restrictions placed upon you, he found himself unable to tear his gaze away from you.

There was a time when he thought he'd never find someone who could handle the rigors of his life. Someone who could deal with the constant danger, the long periods of separation, and the stress of being married to a soldier. But then he met you, and everything changed.

Seeing you like this, so vulnerable yet so resilient, made his heart ache. But it also filled him with pride. Pride in knowing that he had chosen well, that he had found someone who loved him despite all his flaws.

As you walked around the house, you couldn't help but notice the way John looked at you. There was something about the way his blue eyes took in every detail of your body that sent a thrill through you. "You're staring darling," you smiled at him as you waddled towards the sofa.

Following you to the couch, John couldn't help but let his gaze wander over your form once more. The sight of you swollen with his children was enough to make his heart race.

"Can't help it, sweetheart," he said with a shrug, sitting down next to you. "You're looking even more beautiful these days."

His hand hovered near your belly, tempted to touch the bump where their babies were growing. But he resisted, instead choosing to content himself with watching the gentle rise and fall of your stomach as you breathed.

"How are our little angels doing today?" He asked softly, his voice filled with paternal concern.

You saw John's restriction when he came to touch your swollen stomach, it made you chuckled honestly. "You can touch my stomach you know" you smiled softly as you grabbed his hands to place on your stomach.

"They're kicking up a storm today" You replied with a smile. "I think they're going to be just like their dad. Always full of energy"

Feeling the subtle movements beneath his palm, John couldn't suppress the swell of emotion that welled up inside him. His kids were alive, thriving, and already causing trouble.

"I'm glad to hear it," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "Full of energy is good. Keeps them strong."

He leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to your stomach before pulling away. The sensation of those tiny kicks against his hand was enough to send shivers down his spine. "Are they going to be as stubborn as their mum?" He teased, trying to lighten the mood.

Your cheeks flushed slightly at his words, but you couldn't stop the chuckle that escaped your lips. "I am not stubborn" you said with a grin as you grabbed his chin to bring him in for a gentle kiss.

Caught off guard by your sudden move, John felt a jolt of desire course through him. The kiss was sweet and tender, making him wish that he could pick you up and carry you to bed, where he could worship every inch of your body. But he knew that wasn't an option right now, so he settled for the kiss. "Mmm..." he hummed against your lips before pulling away. "Still stubborn, I see."

After the kiss, you pulled back with a smirk on your face. "Maybe a bit" You murmured as you pulled him for another kiss.

Caught off guard by your sudden forwardness, John found himself responding to your kiss eagerly. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer into his chest. His hand slid down to cup your thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"But I love you anyway," he whispered against your lips before kissing you again.

You pulled back from the kiss with a grin, "you better!" You kissed the tip of his nose before propping your feet up onto the coffee table, "will you massage my feet please, they feel like balloons." You chuckled as you looked at your swollen feet, so swollen you have to wear crocks when you go out now. Fucking crocks.

With a chuckle, John obliged, taking one of your feet into his large, calloused hands. He began to gently massage the arch of your foot, applying pressure to the sensitive spots.

"Gladly, love," he murmured, focusing on the task at hand. Despite the situation, he couldn't help but admire the softness of your skin under his rough palms. "It's hard seeing you like this," *he admitted after a moment, "but I wouldn't trade it for anything else."

You sighed softly as he massaged your feet, feeling the tension leaving them as he worked on each toe individually. "Just thinking of the 3 beautiful children we'll have" you replied softly as you closed your eyes enjoying the massage.

Continuing to work on your feet, John couldn't help but marvel at the changes that pregnancy had brought about in you. Your body now rounded and lush, carrying the fruit of their love. "It's strange," he mused aloud, "how something as miraculous as childbirth can also be so terrifying."

As he massaged your feet, you closed your eyes letting out a sigh of relief. "You're telling me," you said with a small laugh. "You're not the one that will have to push them out....or get cut open to get them out" you couldn't help but laugh slightly again as John began messaging your other foot.

At your laughter, John's own chuckle rumbled deep within his chest. He couldn't deny there was some truth to what you were saying. "But don't forget who will be there by your side when it happens," he reminded you, switching to massage your other foot. "Who will hold your hand and tell you everything will be alright." His fingers traced over the sole of your foot, finding all the tender spots until they reached your toes.

You let out a contented sigh as he continued to massage your feet. "That reminds me. I have a midwife appointment tomorrow for a check-up, I can't remember if you're on base or not tomorrow." You asked with a smile as you wiggled your toes.

Hearing about the appointment, John's expression softened. He loved these moments, listening to the heartbeat of their unborn children. It was almost magical, in its way.

"I'll be there," he assured you, his tone firm yet gentle. "I wouldn't miss it for the world." His fingers continued to work on your toes, giving them a gentle squeeze before moving back up towards your heel.

You smile at his answer, feeling happy knowing he would be there with you. "Good," you say, "I'd hate to go without you." You smiled lightly as he moves to your other foot, the massage feeling amazing, and you find yourself sinking deeper into the couch.

Once John finishes massaging your feet, he parts your thighs slightly so he can kneel in between them. He gently places his hands on your swollen belly and rests his forehead on your stomach. He lets out a soft sigh, one sign that something is wrong.

"I know you John. What's wrong?"

"This job," he begins, his voice low and thick with worry. "I'm going to miss so much, I might miss their first steps, their first laugh, their first words…" John always acts strong, he has to being a Captain, but you know him. You know him better than himself.

"I knew what I was getting myself into when I married you," you say, your voice firm but laced with love. You cup his cheeks with your hands so John would look up at you. "Our children won't mind anyway. You want to know why?"

He lifted his gaze to meet yours, his blue eyes shimmering with unshed tears. The vulnerability in those eyes only made you love him more. "Why?" he echoed, a hint of curiosity mixed with a heavy dose of scepticism in his voice.

"Because," you continue, your voice softening, "they will know that their daddy is a hero. They will know that he's out there fighting for the world, fighting for their future. They will be proud."

John nodded slowly, his grip tightening on your hips as he took in your words. There was a part of him that wanted to believe you, to take comfort in the thought that their children would understand. "And what about you?" he asked quietly, "How will you explain it to them? How will you tell them that their father wasn't there because he chose to be away?" Even though he knew it was a rhetorical question, he needed to hear your response.

You place a finger on his lips silencing him momentarily. "I'll tell them the same thing," you say, "that their daddy is a hero. That he fights for people he doesn't even know. And that while he does that, he thinks of us. Always."

"You're my hero John. I've never doubted that. And our kids won't either."

He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes as he savoured the warmth of your finger against his lips. In that moment, he felt like the luckiest man alive – to have found someone like you, who could see past the uniform and the rank.

"Damn, I love you," he murmured against your skin, his voice barely above a whisper. "More than anything else in this world." He then placed a gentle kiss on your belly, his affection for the three little lives growing inside you evident in every movement he made.

Your heart swells with love for John as he whispers his love for you. You reach down and run your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer to your body. "And I love you, more than anything else in this world too."

You kiss the top of his head, inhaling his scent. You are both silent for a moment, just enjoying each other's company.

The weight of your love pressed down on him, grounding him in a way nothing else could. His arms tightened around your waist, holding onto you as if you were the last piece of sanity in an otherwise chaotic world.

He looked up at you, his blue eyes shining with a mix of love and admiration. "You know, I sometimes wonder if I deserve you." There was a hint of self-doubt in his voice, something he rarely showed, especially not to you.

You tilt your head, looking down at John with a small smile playing on your lips. "Why would you ever think that?" You ask, genuinely confused.

He shrugged, his brow furrowed in thought. "I mean, here I am, off fighting wars, missing milestones, while you're here carrying our children, preparing for their arrival..." His voice trailed off, as if he was unsure whether he should finish what he started. But the truth was, he had plenty of reasons to doubt himself.

"It's not fair to you," he finally said, his voice low and sincere. "You deserve better than a husband who's always away. A husband who can't give you what you need..."

You gently grabbed John's cheeks to look at you. "Don't," you whispered, your thumb stroking his cheek. "Don't say that."

He sighed softly, leaning into your touch as if seeking comfort from your hand. He closed his eyes briefly, savouring the sensation of your thumb against his skin.

"Don't what?" he asked, opening his eyes to meet yours again. "Tell the truth? Because it's the truth, sweetheart. You deserve a husband who can stay home, who can be there for you and the babies..."

As your trembling voice whispered, "Shh," silence enveloped you. Your breath hitched, tears threatening to cascade down your cheeks. "I want you, John."

John's glassy eyes held a mixture of pain and longing. "You deserve better," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper.

"No," you protested, your voice a feeble plea. "I don't want better. I have you." Warm tears escaped, trailing down your face. "You're not just my husband. You're my best friend, my lover, my partner...my everything."

He watched as the tears rolled down your cheeks, and his heart clenched painfully in his chest. He didn't want to cause you pain, but he also couldn't deny the truth.

"But I'm not there for you, sweetheart," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "Not like I should be..."

You shook your head, wiping away the tears with the back of your hand. "You're here now," you said softly, reaching down to cup his face in your hands. "That's all that matters."

He let out a shaky breath, feeling the warmth of your hands on his face. He gazed up at you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of deception. "I don't want to hurt you," he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion* "But I can't help but feel like I'm failing you. Failing our family..."

You leaned forward, pressing your forehead against his. "Stop it, John. Please," you whispered. "You're not failing me. Failing us."

He exhaled deeply, trying to calm the storm of emotions raging within him. The weight of his duty was heavy, but the love he felt for you and the unborn children was heavier still. "Sometimes I wish..." his voice trailed off, the words dying on his lips before they could fully form.

He hesitated, clearly struggling with his thoughts. After a long pause, he continued. "Sometimes I wish I could leave it all behind - the war, the danger, the constant uncertainty. Just so I could focus on building a life with you, raising our children together..."

His gaze drifted over your features, committing every detail to memory. The way the light danced in your eyes, the curve of your lips, the softness of your skin beneath his fingertips...

"But that's not reality, is it?" he asked, his tone tinged with resignation. "Reality is me being called away, leaving you to handle things on your own...again."

You grab his hand, pressing it against your stomach. "But it will be in the future," you say, your voice firm. "When you retire. We'll be together finally, you can chase our children around the garden, spoil them rotten. Finally treat yourself to that bike you've always wanted." You chuckle, the sound light and carefree.

John's eyes flicker to your face, a ghost of a smile forming.

"But not yet dear," you continue, cupping his face in your hands, forcing him to meet your gaze. "You're not done saving the world, you're not done being the hero everyone needs."

His face softens, his gaze melting into yours. The weight of the world is there in his eyes, but so is love, a deep and unwavering love that knows no bounds. You know he's fighting a battle, a war within himself, but you also know that he'll choose you, always. He will come back to you, your haven, your love. He will come home.

A faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he listened to you speak, your words washing over him like a soothing balm. He knew you were right - he wasn't ready to retire just yet. There was still work to be done, lives to save, threats to neutralize.

"You're right," he conceded, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm not done yet. Not by a long shot." He paused, swallowing hard past the lump in his throat. "But I promise you this, sweetheart - when the time comes, I'll be here. For you, for our family. Always." He sealed his vow with a tender kiss, pouring all his love and devotion into the simple gesture. "I love you more than anything in this world. Never forget that."

[cherry-burst]

Rafayel Sexting F!MC

Love & Deepspace

🔞 MDNI... Or else

2:07 AM

Rafayel: Hey cutie, are you still up?

Rafayel: Just 3 more days until my flight. I can't wait to see you again.

MC: I will put a countdown on my phone for when you get back!

Rafayel: You dun already have one? Woooow

MC: Do YOU have one?

Rafayel: Of course. I set it up the second I left.

Rafayel: *Calls MC*

Ringing...

<1 Missed Call>

Rafayel: Are you too busy to talk on the phone? It's already 2 AM and I can't sleep

Rafayel: Hearing your voice would be nice and it would help me fall asleep. You won't leave me hanging, right?

MC: Sorry! I just got back to my apt from a mission and I needed to eat something real quick before I shower.

Rafayel: Ooo, video call me from the shower

MC: Nooooo! It's going to be a QUICK shower. Then I need to sleep. If I vid call you, it wouldn't be a quick shower anymore.

Rafayel: You know me so well.

Rafayel: Fine fine, but I'll leave you with some messages to read for when you get out.

MC: Deal. I'm hopping in now

Rafayel: I can't believe you're naked right now and I don't get to see it.

Rafayel: You know, I went to a pop-up art exhibit and they had a big canvas with paint smeared all over it. It looked random at first glance

Rafayel: The plaque said the artist and his lover covered themselves in hues of pain then made love right there on top of the canvas to make the art piece.

Rafayel: Totally unelated, but I have a new date idea when I'm back home :)

Rafayel: I can only imagine how beautiful the painting would be that we could make together

Rafayel: I wish I was there with you. I miss you

Rafayel: I want to hold you in my arms. I want to kiss your soft lips. I want to watch you blush when I bully you ;)

Rafayel: And don't try to protest. I know you like it. Why else would you be so wet afterwards?

Rafayel: Please call me when you get out of the shower. I need to hear your voice

Rafayel: I can't stop thinking about your taste, you scent, and how your body heats up when I lick you in all the right places.

Rafayel: Fuck, I want to taste your pussy so bad right now. I miss the way you gasp and moan when I push my tongue inside you.

Rafayel: I can't stop from touching myself, sorry. I'll hold off untill your phone call

Rafayel: Please let me kiss you between your thighs

Rafayel: I love how much wetter you get when my tongue is inside you. You seem to like that very much

Rafayel: I can do that all night if you want. I never want to stop

Rafayel: Do you like my tongue that much? You always grab my hair and force me closer. It's so sexy when you do that

Rafayel: Don't worry. I wont stop until you're shaking.

Rafayel: You should be out of the shower by now, cutie.

MC: Yes but, I need another one after reading your texts

Rafayel: You like my words? Want me to keep going?

MC: Yes...

Rafayel: If that's your wish

<Incoming Call From MC>