#it SOUNDS like a vaguely reasonable thing to ask for. but it isn't. it really fucking isn't. my chair isn't built like that.

[racke7]

Oh yeah. Update on my back.

Rib-pain is mostly receded, side-pain pops up in sparks. Still can't sleep at all during the night (2h blocks), but I can get back out of bed with minimal pain (improvement).

Started noticing my spine complaining a lot more (probably because it's not being shouted down by my ribs).

Talked to the physiotherapist and he basically went "oh, you adjusted your chair and the rib-problem mostly went away? interesting. let's see if we can ignore that and let it heal. and let's instead focus on your spine."

So now I have a single stretching-exercise that I should be doing morning and evening (until I'm comfortable enough with it that I can do it a few times per day), and some possible-adjustments to my sleeping-position.

[todayisafridaynight]

HAVE BEEN ROTATING Y7 ARAKAWA IN RGGO ARAKAWA'S DRIP IN MY MIND FOR AEONS YOU SEE THE VISION....................

Listen. I think. I think it would work. I think we could've still won. The physics probably would've been a pain, but if I think about it as an echo of the red iin his costuming in the play at the start, and link it back to how the plot of the play comes to represent part of his life, it would [unintelligible]

But no for real, the sliver you can see of the snakeskin on Jo and the fact it's the lightest thing you can see on his whole outfit feels purposeful. It's still incredibly funny to me that whole thing was treated as a twist at all. But.

And the progression on account of the timeskip is sick too from a symbolic perspective. It's things like the 2019 tie having the exact same pattern as in 2000, but it's also now the only real color in his entire ensemble, the purple from his shirt relegated to the tie and the pink completely gone. Hanging on to the past (although I guess this is more RGGJo's thing), forcing his "self" into a smaller and smaller space, that kind of thing. If we go with Sololiquy for a moment, maybe there's also something there about things being livelier when Ichi was around, for better or worse.

All the leather is ostensibly much more luxurious, befitting of his rise in status, but it's also burying him further in these additional layers of security. The gloves DO pull it together, and they also leave him basically completely covered-up from head to toe, which I can't help find fascinating.

So, you know, he looks sick with the gloves on, but there's also a different Flavor when recognizing he had them on the first battle when he was hiding so much from Ichi, but in the second battle, where he hopes to come clean, he's bare-handed ("Ichi-vision" notwithstanding).

And I think it's also worth recognizing that the gloves would've offered some protection when he went to grab the blade, but he grabs it anyway in his bare hand. With the amount of force you apply when you swing a blade and it actually connects, that'd hurt him just as bad, but it shows he's past the point of caring about what happens to him even before he says so. (I still think we should've probably seen his hand cut and bleeding when out of Ichi-vision, but y'know.)

Much to think about...

NO I SEE YOUR VISION I SEE WHERE YOU'RE GOING they could've done that.... true the physics would've been a pain but I think we can trade some of the effort that went into The Bread and put it towards the scarf and coat.....

The evolution of Jo's outfit in conjunction with the surrounding environment and circumstances really is mad interesting, and as someone who really enjoys 'storytelling' (idk if that's the exact word rn but i aint ever been good with words in the first place) through character design/wardrobe. Any note I coulda said you've already said for me, yet I still wish I had some more words to express how much I love the changes in his outfit and how it reflects himself and the story at that particular point 😷

[lacyblades]

౨ৎ virgin!reader who really wants fratboy!satoru to take her v-card.

"just the tip," you breathe, the words a soft plea against his lips. they're swollen and tender from his kisses, and his fingers gently brush a stray strand of hair from your flushed cheek. you're perched so prettily on his lap, your pupils blown wide, face flushed.

satoru clicks his tongue, shaking his head, a small, regretful smile playing on his lips. "sorry, cherry. no can do."

a frustrated whine escapes you, a puff of warm air against his skin. "but… why?"

"because," he says, his thumbs lightly tracing the curve of your jaw, "it never ends up being just the tip. the second i try to do what you want, i know i'll cave." he playfully squishes your cheeks together, forcing a pout that doesn't quite reach your heated eyes.

"well, is that such a bad thing?" you ask, your voice thick with lust. "don't you want to have sex with me?"

"obviously, i want to have sex with you," satoru says, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest as he rolls his eyes. "i just… i want us to take it slow, okay?"

you groan, throwing your head back in exasperation. "seriously? we've been taking it slow. just. the. tip. baby steps, right?"

satoru chews on his bottom lip, feeling shameful for even considering it. he'd promised himself he wouldn't rush this, that he'd give you the best first time possible. you deserve that.

but then there you are. his girl. right here. your discarded shirt lies on the floor, and the lace of your bra does little to hide the tempting press of your perky nipples. it isn't entirely his fault if his resolve is crumbling.

and crumble it does.

"just the tip," he repeats, his voice a husky murmur, his gaze dropping and then flicking back to yours, heavy with unspoken need. he's hovering over you now, the slick head of his cock aligned perfectly with your glistening pussy.

"yeah, yeah," you mumble, impatient, your hands reaching up to hook around his neck, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist.

"cherry, i mean it," he says, his eyes locked on yours, a warning and a plea all in one.

"uh-huh. can you just… can you put it in now?"

satoru sighs, the sound laced with a mock reluctance that does little to hide the tremor in his hands as he grips your thighs. it's just the tip, a gentle press against your slick folds, and a gasp escapes your lips, a feeling of fullness hitting instantly.

he finds himself mentally reciting the names of this year's football teams, a desperate attempt to cling to some semblance of control, to not climax this early. and he's supposed to be the experienced one.

"'toru," you whine, your inner muscles clenching around him, a delicious squeeze that sends a jolt of pure pleasure through him. his hand comes up to gently caress your cheek, his thumb stroking the soft skin, and you lean into his touch.

"shit, cherry," he grunts, his control fraying at the edges. "please don't squeeze like that. i c— can barely…"

"you— you should just put all of it in," you whisper, your fingers tangling in his impossibly white hair, tugging gently.

"no," he mumbles, the denial a weak protest. keeping you away from this sweet release, even though you could probably come from this alone. "you feel so good. so… so tight."

"all the more reason—"

"no." this isn't how it's supposed to happen. your first time deserves more than a stolen moment in the middle of a forgotten study session. there should be flowers, maybe candles… it should be perfect.

he's already made up his mind, the decision firm despite the insistent throb of his cock. satoru’s thumb brushes lightly across your swollen clit, and a small whimper escapes your lips.

"satoru, i really need you." and then you look up at him, your eyes glossed with unshed tears, desperate and raw.

fuck it.

as long as it's here, with you, it'll be perfect. besides, he vaguely remembers seeing some dusty candles in the back of the storage closet.

[queers-gambit]

Shower Shenanigans

part one: Perpetual L's and Overwhelming Dubs

prompt: midnight callers turn your quiet night upside down, but at least it ends with you riding your stranger in the shower.

pairing: Tangerine x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Bullet Train

word count: 4.7k+

note: nobody asked for this but he's my muse now

warnings: cursing, smut (unprotected, in the shower, she's on top), blood, wounds, brain rot, author isn't British, probably setting up for part three, wonky brain doesn't care what warnings are missed.

A storm had rolled over Osaka, a steady thrumming at your hotel window creating a calming ambiance as you lit a couple of the candles you ordered from the front desk. Curled up on the tiny loveseat offered in the small living space, you flipped through your latest novel you grabbed before running into Tangerine at the train station. Speaking of, you glared at your phone for the hundredth time in an hour, feeling a sort of overwhelming dread that he hadn't called yet - or at the very least, texted.

Was it silly? Oh, you KNOW it was.

But he had said some really pretty things that rang in your ears on a haunting repeat the rest of the train ride. Then the whole taxi ride through Osaka, and the three days it's been since meeting him - he just wouldn't leave your conscious. Every meeting you had was vaguely interrupted by some sort of thought about your mysterious stranger, driving you up the wall.

Sure, you could call him, but the idea of calling a stranger for no reason other than to hear his voice felt a little too vulnerable to you. Yo could ask where he was, if he wanted to come for a visit - or hell, even before you departed Japan back for London, England, you could come see him... If he so wanted.

But your mind refused to let you dial his number, which was left in your recents after he had texted himself in the bathroom. The memory of your ex was still so fresh, making you feel silly for having such vivid, intense fantasies about a man you've met once. And for the love of Christ, you didn't even know his real name! Just his silly, fruity codename!

Man, if you hadn't been embarrassed before, the memory of moaning a fucking fruit surely made you cringe to the point you wanted the Earth to open up, swallow you whole, and never spit you out.

Your trip was soon to end with your departing flight tomorrow night, giving you just a day of leisure time in the city - but you didn't feel like doing much since the storm. Your book was interesting enough, keeping you entertained with a cart of hot food from room service within arms reach. Your tea was lukewarm by now, being much easier to drink, bowl of air-popped popcorn sat in your lap. Over the sounds of thunder, there was a knock at your door.

More like a banging, but hey, logistics. This was odd considering it was close to nine in the evening and you hadn't called for anything.

With a sigh, you marked your page and stood; annoyed by the continuous knocking, oversized tee shirt falling back over your thighs, socked feet stuffing into your slippers before traveling to the door. You called in Japanese, "Who is it?"

There was a small scraping, making your brows furrow and call your question again - but with much more urgency. "'S me, love, open the door, please," a raspy, British accent croaked seemingly through the crack. You left the chain lock in place, slowly opening the door a fraction to discover Tangerine - bloodied to high hell - leaning on the doorframe of your hotel room with two other bloody men behind him.

"What the fuck? Jesus Christ," you hissed, shutting the door, snapping the chain off and yanking it open once more. "Get in here, are you okay?" You asked, gasping right after when Tangerine stumbled a little, making you catch him; assualting your sinuses with the smell of citrus, metallic blood, and cigarette smoke. "All right, all right, you're safe now, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon," you muttered, helping him over your shoulders and into your decently spacious hotel room. "C'mon, you two! Step lively before you trigger hotel security!"

You shuffled your stranger into the room and deposited him on the sofa; hearing his grunt of exaggerated pain. You looked at the others, sighing as you moved things out of the way, inviting the other two men to sit around the furniture. You tried not to worry about the cleaning bill you would surely get for all their blood.

"Jesus Christ, did you get shot?" You asked, seeing the fleshy wound in his shoulder that was very poorly staunched.

"That arsehole did it," he panted, pointing at the blonde stranger.

"Hi," the arsehole waved, "it was an accident, for whatever it's worth. I, uh... I have bad luck, don't really like guns," he shrugged meekly.

"You lot look like hell," you sighed, shaking your head and standing to your feet to take a few steps away. You asked over your shoulder, "Guess I shouldn't bother asking what happened?"

"Train wreck," the man Tangerine had been with earlier answered.

You blinked in shock, the men all wincing as they were seemingly finally able to relax. Only now, you noted they were all in the same clothes as days ago, just tattered, torn, burnt and singed, soaking wet from the storm, stained with blood. You looked at Tangerine, demanding, "Is that why you told me to get off the train? You were gonna crash it!?"

"No, no, darlin', that wasn't the plan," Tangerine coughed, head tilted back. "Just... Happened."

"Call it his bad luck, huh?" You shook your head and moved for the hotel's phone, dialing the front desk and waiting. When they answered, the cheery front desk girl asked how she could help and you asked her what first aid supplies the hotel kept stocked. She answered and you asked if you'd be able to get enough for three kits - claiming you were practicing for a medical school final. She was more than happy to oblige, telling you her brother did much of the same, and she'd send the kits right up.

Thanking her, you hung up, and turned back for room. You found a pair of shorts and hopped into them for modesty, using your ice bucket to fill with water, grabbing whatever hand towels and washcloths you could. You set the bucket to the coffee table, dipping the cloths in for the two strangers, asking, "You guys wanna clean up a bit?"

"Please," the blonde wheezed.

You nodded, handing over the wet towels and moved the bucket a little closer for them to reach. You introduced yourself to them, offering a smile, turning for Tangerine and taking a seat beside him to start cleaning him up. "Lemon," your companion's counterpart introduced.

"Ladybug."

"More fucking codenames," you mumbled, shaking your head, trying to mop up Tangerine's forehead. "Jesus, fuck, sweetheart, what did you do? Bash your head through a glass wall?"

"Window, actually," he mumbled, reaching up to caress your wrist and cracking his eyes open. "Thank you, darlin'."

"Hush," you smiled, wiping the blood from his mouth. "You guys are gonna need showers and new clothes, huh?" You looked at the other two, who were scattered around the room to use whatever reflective surface they could find.

"That'd be nice," Ladybug nodded. "Anyone any cash?"

You sighed, "I've got you guys, 's all right."

As you reached for the bucket of warm water again to rinse the washcloth and wring it out, you missed the looks Lemon and Tangerine exchanged; both mildly impressed with your generosity and kindness. Certainly, someone who would never get tangled up in the lot of them on regular circumstances.

The knock at your door made the entire room still, you sparing them a skeptical look and reprimanding as you stood, "Relax, it's just the supplies."

Still, Lemon and Ladybug made sure they were out of sight as Tangerine just couldn't move once deposited on the sofa. You greeted the service worker, strategic in how wide you opened the door, and accepted the supplies; thanking the man, closing the door, and depositing the materials on your still-made bed.

However, a new thought occurred and you picked up the phone once more. When it connected to the front desk, you asked if your conjoining room was vacant - and to your shock, it was. You asked if they would add the room to yours because your friend suddenly decided to join you (not a total lie), and some 20 minutes later, you were giving Ladybug and Lemon their own room keys. You propped the conjoining door open, the two men using the first aid kits and the other room's shower as you got Tangerine to a point you didn't think he would bleed out.

"Okay, sweetheart," you caressed his jaw, "I'm gonna pop over to the shops across the street, okay? Grab you guys some necessities."

"You don't have to, we shouldn't burden you like this," he whispered.

"You guys can't walk around in these clothes," you chuckled.

"Have been."

"Yeah, on the side of the road, huh?"

"Back of a tangerine truck for a bit, too," he chuckled.

"Well, that's fitting. Look, just," you sighed, leaning in to peck his lips softly, "stay here, rest, eat, I'll be right back. Get a shower if you feel able, yeah?"

He nodded, just looking you over for a moment. "I'm sorry," he whispered, shaking his head, "I didn't know where else t'go. Whole plan went t'shit, we were out of options, love, just... Didn't know where t'turn ta."

"How'd you even find me?"

He shrugged, "I have my ways."

"Well, that's doesn't vaguely make you sound like a stalker." Another peck to his amused smile. "I'll be right back, promise," you stood, found a pair of sweats, a hoodie, and changed your shoes before heading out the door.

Was it stupid to leave three strangers alone in your hotel room? For sure. But you still went, you were a caring person by nature and the idea of making them fend for themselves felt wrong.

Especially after the state they showed up in, Tangerine's soft words about not knowing where to go; you just wanted to help since you had the ability to.

Across the street, splashing through puddles, you zipped around what was available and gathered three sets of sweatpants, shirts, jackets or hoodies, and figured their shoes were fine for now until they could change them later. You grabbed a few snacks and bottles of water, sports drinks, and energy drinks, paid, and made it back to your hotel room.

"Oh, blessings, you sweet girl!" Lemon gasped when you presented the change of clothes and snacks. "Oh, fuck yeah," he whispered to himself, taking the gift and going to change as you tossed Ladybug his own set.

When you found Tangerine, he was in the same place - but at least he didn't look worse. Just exhausted.

"Hey," you cooed, caressing his head and watching his eyes crack open.

"You're back," he smiled.

"Mhm," you hummed, "and you need a shower. C'mon, then you can get in bed, get some rest."

"Nah, love," he groaned when you took his wrists, "let's jus' go t'bed."

"Tan, you're absolutely disgusting right now, you'll feel better under the water. C'mon, there's a shower seat, you don't have to do anything, I'll help you."

He winced when you helped him on his feet, hobbling into the bathroom as Ladybug and Lemon were chowing down on whatever they could get their hands on. In the bathroom, you shut the door, set a clean towel on the counter, and turned to see him leaning on a wall, just watching you. You offered a soft smile, starting the shower to hea up, and then approaching him.

"Easy," you whispered, helping him unlatch his belt, step from his shoes, and then shed his trousers. His waistcoat followed, then his button-up, you gasping lightly, "Oh, fuck! Oh, my God. Yeah," you gently pet his side, prodding the dark wound, "you've got some broken ribs, sweetheart. Fuck's sake."

"That arsehole did that, too," he mused.

"Seriously? Damn, how'd you get your arse handed to yah by a lad named Ladybug?" You joked, dropping his boxers and pulling him from the wall. You made sure he was on the shower seat before stepping back and stripping yourself, joining him in the heat and getting to your knees.

With another washcloth, you gently suds over his body, the soap helping sweep away from grime. He let you work, scrubbing his feet, then working up his legs, rinsing, reapplying the soap, and continuing on your way. You washed his thighs and up his hips, to his waist, ignoring the way his cock stirred to life, bobbing into your elbow as it swelled. You were gentle over his bruises, the water feeling nice over your tired bodies; the soft scents of the soap soothing.

When you straightened up to wash his chest, you missed the way his eyes scanned over your soaking wet form. Feeling your hands on his collarbones, he reached down to seize your hips and heave - making you yelp. "The hell are you doing?" You gasped, needing to stabilize yourself on the wall and his non-shot shoulder.

"'S been three days too long, just wanted yah close," he whispered, sighing as his hands smoothed down your hips; gripping the flesh until indentations appeared.

You tisked, "You're hurt, you don't need t'fuckin' lift me. Use your words next time, won't you?"

He chuckled, "And what? Risk you sayin' no 'cause you don't wanna hurt me? Nah, love," he sighed. "Just wanted yah close, t'feel yah."

You hummed, "Close your eyes."

"Hmm?"

You held up the shampoo bottle, squirting a generous amount into your hand before starting to lather it into his scalp. He groaned, hissed at a few intervals, but overall let you work your fingers through his curls; pulling out any knots, shards of glass, and loosening the dried blood.

"You all right?" You checked, lifted on your knees to work; breasts all but pressed into his face.

"Mhm," he hummed, coiling his arms around you so he could literally just press his face into your cleavage. You chuckled, giving him a quick cuddle as he pecked your skin slowly, and continuing your work. When you lowered yourself back to his lap, your bare cunt drug down his shaft, making you both groan. "Baby," he seethed through his teeth, gripping the back of your neck to keep you close, "please, just - get on me, yeah? Need yah - on a biblical level, darlin'."

"You're hurt," you weakly refused, your resolve barely hanging on by a thread.

"Not so hurt that I can't enjoy this, huh?" He argued, licking over your lips to halt all rational thought. "C'mon, love, we hiked it three days here - after a fuckin' train wreck. I would've dropped if not for the thought of you, seein' yah, touchin' you again. Don't even gotta move, just sit there, love."

"If I do, will you finally just sit still and let me clean you up?"

"Whatever baby wants, she'll have, swear it," he grinned, hoisting you into his arms so he could grip his throbbing cock, lower you, and line himself up until you were impaling yourself on him. "Jesus, fuck!" He snapped, mixing with your whimper at his impossible stretch. "Ah, you feel so fuckin' good, doll, this is it - this is what I needed, huh? All I fuckin' needed - fuck - right fuckin' here."

"Hush," you whispered with an embarrassed smile, glancing back. "I need the shower head."

"I got us," he answered, holding you tight and standing with a small grunt. He easily grabbed the shower head, handing it to you, letting you rinse his hair out as he turned to pin you against the wall with his hips for balance.

"This isn't just sitting," you mocked, soap flowing down his shoulders and chest. "Close your eyes, please," you whispered, wiping the frothy suds from his face as he did. "God, your curls are magnificent, seriously, why does God give the best qualities to men - who don't even appreciate what they have?"

He laughed lightly, "Gotta get your attention somehow."

"Mhm, these lashes? Not even a drop of mascara," you mused, pecking the tip of his nose while one hand held his jaw. "And this jawline? Baby, this alone could cut glass."

"Like your nipples, right?" He teased, nipping your collarbones; both acutely aware of your pebbled nips dancing across his flesh each time you moved. He chuckled, readjusting you when you reached to set the shower head back in the holder; making sure it could cascade over the bench still. "We done?" He asked softly.

"Nope, got the conditioner," you rolled your eyes, holding his shoulders when he moved back for the seat; still firmly inside you. When he sat again, you released a high-pitched breath when the position pushed him further into you; your legs folding beside his thighs to keep the ideal grip.

"In a second," he smirked, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. "Just need this, yeah?" He spoke against your lips, licking into your mouth. "Been hiking with a fucking hard-on for days, love, just fuckin' need this," he hissed into your mouth, teeth raking over your bottom lip in a possessive bite. You moaned quietly, lost in the ministrations of kissing him like a drunk teenager, barely aware when he started moving your hips over him.

"Tan," you tried.

"C'mon, love, we both need it," he shook his head. "Tell me to stop and I will, but I think we both need this."

With a long sigh, you pet his cheek, deciding, "Fine, but we're taking it easy, you're still - " But then there was a loud knock at the bathroom door, Lemon calling your name in question. You slapped a hand over Tangerine's irritated mouth when he looked ready to yell his protest, answering, "What is it, honey, are you guys okay? What's wrong?"

"Yeah, just, uh... Can we order a couple things from room service? Bit starving, thinkin' something hot?"

"Oh, yeah, whatever you guys need!" You encouraged happily, Tangerine biting your palm and making your hand retract with a small whine and pout.

"Oi!" He called over the shower stream.

"Yeah?" Lemon was heard laughing.

"Don't run up her bill, mate!"

"It's okay," you whispered, pecking his forehead. "Get what you need, Lemon," you called, "but order Tangerine something to eat, too, please!"

"On it, love! Thank you!"

"Oh! Of course!" You beamed back at Tangerine, who offered you a mild look of annoyance.

"Now, why do that?" He asked, grinding your hips on his again. "Huh? Those two will eat you outta house and home, love."

"It's fine, you guys have been through a lot," you promised, connecting your lips in a long kiss. "Now, you wanna keep talking financials or put the rest of this hot water to use?"

"There's my girl," he grunted, standing from the bench to move fully under the water; pinning you to the wall again.

You grunted when you collided with the cold tile, but the warm tongue in your mouth was plenty distraction. You held his neck like it was your single tether to life, teeth clashing, tongues wagging, lips wet and creating obscene sounds the more intense the kisses turned.

"Fuck," you felt the air punch from your lungs when Tangerine pulled his hips back to start thrusting; brows furrowed together in concentration as he worked in and out of you at an already brutal pace. You didn't complain - he obviously needed this, and by God, it felt otherworldly.

"'Ats my girl, so fuckin' good for me," he muttered, needing this more than you have ever before; each hand holding a thigh to keep you spread open for his taking, hips hammering into yours as his balls slapped the apex of your cunt to echo around the room.

You felt incoherent when he picked up his speed, dropping his forehead to your shoulder when your head was thrown back as he worked you closer, closer, closer to your release. There was no thought in your mind, just Tangerine; drunk on his smell, taste, touch, never wanting this feeling to end.

Just outside the bathroom, Ladybug was accepting the room service order when he heard the messy, obscene noises coming from the bathroom; looking wide eyed at the closed door. Lemon laughed, "Might wanna walk away, Joburg, he don't like nobody listening in."

"Kinda hard to when they're that loud," he blanched when you released a pornographic moan as Tangerine readjusted his stance so his cock was piercing what felt like straight through you. Lemon laughed at Ladybug being startled so much he literally scurried away.

"C'mon, love," Tangerine panted.

"Go back," you moaned, pawing at his shoulders as you felt too slippery in this position.

"Huh?"

"Sit!" You insisted, him pulling back from the wall and backing up until the bench hit the back of his knees - dropping him. "There's my boy," you mocked, a hand on the wall, the other on his good shoulder, supporting you to vigorously ride him. You felt renewed energy now that he was obviously okay, only his bullet wound still weeping - something you'll patch up once out of the water.

"Oh, holy fuck," Tangerine moaned, louder than you would've thought; his head thumping back to the wall and losing all composure. "That's it, doll, keep like that - ohhh, fuck me!"

"Exactly what I'm doing, yeah?" You teased, moving your hand to his throat and keeping pressure enough not to fully choke his air supply, but enough to make him moan at the feeling.

His mouth dropped open as you rode him enthusiastically, feeling determined to reward him for coming all this way to track you down. Yeah, sure, for a moment, it was concerning, but now, you simply didn't care that three strangers had found your hotel room and now crashed with you.

Nothing mattered when this deliriously delicious cock was inside you.

"Jesus!" Tangerine moaned, hands to your hips to help you move, but it seemed the years in your youth as an equestrian was truly paying off. Call it muscle memory, but years after mastering the posting trot and the correct canter diagonal, you were riding Tangerine as if you'd drop dead if you didn't. And he felt it, he felt all of it. "Yeah, you're too good at this," he groaned, "so fuckin' good - Goddamnit - fuck me. Just like that, love, keep going - fuck, I'm right there."

You smirked, pushing his neck back so we was pinned to the wall now, his eyes locked with yours, mouth agape, your breasts bouncing with vigor. You squeaked when Tangerine braced his feet, his own hips thrusting up into you to match your movements; adding to both your mounting pleasures as the shower created a cloud of steam around you both in a welcomed lung-choking heat.

You honestly didn't mean to, but the absolute gut-wrecking pleasure you felt was enough for you to moan in Tangerine's ear, "Daddy."

It seemed the right word as Tangerine groaned in an echo, thrusting faster to the point you couldn't keep up. You could only moan, groan, squeak, cry-out as he jackhammered up into you - something that made Lemon and Ladybug exchange looks, gather their things, and rush back over to their adjoining room to leave you both a fraction of privacy.

"Yeah, tell Daddy how good it is," he seethed in your ear, opening his mouth, and biting down on your neck; hand tightly wound in your hair.

"So good."

"How good?"

"Too good, Daddy, please," you sobbed, braced on his shoulders and chest as his arms held you tight to let him thrust with abandon. "Oh, my God, oh, my God, oh, my God, yes, yes, yes," you praised, your orgasm rushing higher and higher to a new height. "Fuck," you moaned in his ear, "need this cock everyday. Went three days without, felt like I was losing my fucking mind."

"Feelin's mutual, love, so fuckin' mutual," he agreed, his cock swelling, "just needed t'get here, find yah again. Shit, fuck," he looked to where you were conjoined, praising, "gonna need yah home address - ain't no way we're goin' without one another, huh? Hey?"

"Yes, yes, yes," you squeaked, "there - there - there!"

His thumb pressed to your clit and you were done for. Grinding and humping into his hips, you crashed over the other side of your orgasm; feeling mildly limp as you slumped against his shoulder, letting Tangerine thrust a few more times.

"YES!" He shouted your name through clenched teeth, holding you with a vice grip as he bottomed out, balls contracting, squirting his full load inside you with shuddering breaths.

"Oh, my God," you sniffled, holding onto him as your legs were spent and you knew, the odds of you moving any time soon were slim to none.

"Yeah," Tangerine chuckled, leaning back to the wall as he panted; keeping hold of you. "Yah all right, love?"

"Uh-huh," you breathed, still absentminded.

"Yeah," he mused, pecking below your ear. "Just what the doctor ordered, huh?"

"Think the doctor would want your wound closed," you slowly sat off him, looking to the bloody hole and frowning as you pet around the irritated skin. He winced gently, making you frown, "Let's go, love, you need this tended to."

Only, when you dismounted, his cock flopping out of you once released, you tried to find your feet but only found the floor.

"C'mon, love, you just sit," he sighed, scooping you up and switching spots. He set you on the bench, stood, rinsed off under the water, readjusted the stream so it hit you a little better as he lathered conditioner into his curls with one arm.

"You're supposed to leave it sit for a bit," you tisked when he washed the conditioner out; shaking his curls.

"'S all right, still does the job."

"Your girlfriends never taught you haircare?"

He cleared his throat, looking a bit sheepish as he avoided your eyes. "Never really had one outside of secondary school. Job doesn't make dating the easiest, yeah?"

You furrowed your brows gently, then nodded, "Okay, well, just means you've room to learn, right?"

"Yeah, sure. You gonna teach me, love?" He mused, slicking his hair back in the water before shutting it off; wringing a few strands out.

"Why not?" You smiled. "But you gotta teach me something in return."

"Hmm? What's that you wanna learn?"

"How to shoot a gun."

He offered you a long look, seemingly skeptical. You accepted his hand and got from the bench, squeezing when the weight of your body made them tremble lightly. Stepping out, you both dried off with towels as he offered, "Why d'you think I know how to shoot a gun?"

"Tellin' me that Ladybug fellow is the only one? That's fine, I can ask him," you quipped, making him instantly respond,

"Nah, nah, nah, nah, don't do all that, I'll teach yah, love."

You smiled softly, wrapping your hair in a towel and approaching him - still naked. "Thank you," you whispered, kissing his lips in a soft, sweeping motion that made him hum in the back of his throat and reach for your bare arsecheek. "Now, c'mon, let's get you stitched up before you go startin' something you can't finish."

"You met me, love? I always finish," he gave a cheeky squeeze.

"Mhm, might be the last time, too, with this blood loss. Huh?"

He relented in a head nod and wrapped the towel around his hips, watching you shrug on a fluffy white robe and tie the sash. He took your hand, laced your fingers together, and exited the bathroom - only to come to a shocking halt.

There was blood trailed all over the room, medical supplies strewn around, and several food wrappers. "Told yah, love," Tangerine sighed.

"It's okay," you smiled, "they'll clean it."

"You're so sure?"

"I'm very persuasive," you eased. "C'mon, sit," you ushered him back to the bloodied sofa, figuring damage was already done and anymore blood wouldn't make much of a difference. You grabbed whatever material you could, snapping on rubber gloves and taking a deep breath. "Ready?" You asked Tangerine.

"One more kiss and you can have at it," he sighed, leaning in until you met him happily; offering several swipes of his tongue before resting his forehead on your own.

"It'll sting for a bit," you warned, holding the bottle of alcohol.

"C'mon, darlin', 's all right, I can handle - OH! FUCKS SAKE!" He cursed when you poured the disinfectant over his bullet wound.

In the next room, Ladybug and Lemon shared a look before snickering as if two juvenile boys at a sleepover. And honestly? Spot the difference.

requesting rules and masterlist

Bullet Train masterlist

[crazy-pages]

I'm going to throw my two cents in to the conversation about why James Somerton didn't get caught earlier. Part of the answer is of course that he did get caught, he just bullied and lied to get away with it for a while, but I know a lot of people still express confusion. And of course he went out of his way to make sure his audience didn't know about other queer history sources other than himself. But still. How could he have so many viewers of his videos and none of them had seen X source material?

Well. To be blunt, most of his videos were pretty basic. He tended to copy the highlights of what he was plagiarizing, not the really advanced stuff. And insofar as he copied the advanced stuff, he had a tendency to chop it up and serve it out of context alongside other plagiarized work. The material he was presenting was revolutionary to an audience unfamiliar with queer history, but like. I'm guessing 'Disney villains are queer coded' is not exactly a new concept to the kind of people who read multiple books about queer coding in film.

Now I'm not a film studies person, I'm a physicist. But you know what I do when I get a video in my YouTube recommendations about some fairly basic physics concept?

I skip it. No shade to the creator, but like. I hit that topic a decade ago and I've added literally thousands of hours of studying and research to my brain since. I'm just going to give it a pass, all right?

These kinds of videos self-select for an audience which isn't going to be familiar with the source material. The people who know it are unlikely to keep listening after the first minute or so.

And you've got to remember how much of this content the experts have consumed! With very few exceptions for weird little things that stuck in my head after all these years, I would probably not notice a physics explanation plagiarized from one of my textbooks! Not because I wasn't intimately acquainted with the textbook, but because I was intimately acquainted with many such textbooks. Spend enough time learning this stuff and it all blurs together a little bit. Does this explanation sound familiar because you've heard it before, or because you've just read books which cover this specific topic seven different times? And does that wording or that example ring a bell because it's plagiarized, or because it's common to the field?

Catching this kind of plagiarism requires having the kind of people who are already familiar with these sources, and therefore uninterested in video summaries on the topic, to watch the video. And among those people who do, it requires them to match Somerton's words to one specific source on the topic out of many, that they probably read quite some time ago. And then you have the filter of how many of those subject matter experts have the source on hand to check, to turn a vague "...hmm" into something solid.

If you know enough about queer history to say that some of his plagiarism was obvious, now that you've watched the video, then you should remember that there is a reason you probably weren't one of the people watching his videos! And because YouTube promotes videos through algorithmic engagement, none of this stuff has to pass the sniff test for any other expert in the field before it gets released. No experts have to like it for it to get published or for it to get good reviews or for it to get a recommendation in, I don't know, the New York Times.

The only people who have to like the videos for them to get traction are people who are just trying to learn introductory queer history and film theory. The exact people who aren't going to notice this. And for those of you who to whom it is obvious, ask yourself. When was the last time you watched a basic level queer history introduction on YouTube?

[clarkeybabey]

❝ no seriously get your hands off my man ❞

summary; you don't like the way she acts around him playlist; miss possessive - tate mcrae word count; 1.2k note; this is for @raekensluver as she is in her miniminter era rn, no one else asked for this so its very much self-indulgent, back to our regular scheduled program after this one.

You and Simon enjoyed many parties in your time, much more when you were younger but, if you hadn't shown up for the charity match after-party he would've been given quite a bit of shit as he took charge of setting up almost everything. He's not stopped beaming since he woke you up yesterday with a coffee in hand for you, ensuring you knew it was nearly time to get going so everyone would be checked into the hotel before training.

Danny makes his way over, Ten's arm hooked with his, a blonde girl whose face is vaguely familiar in tow, "Simon!" Danny dabs him up pulling him in to aggressively clap him on the back, Your husband stumbles slightly before straightening up. They go into a loud conversation about the match attempting to speak over the bass-boosted music.

Tennessee and the nameless girl ogling at Simon sidestep around the two men over to you, "Ten, darling, you are glowing," you pause to kiss her cheek before continuing, "And admirable, can't believe you're out. I'd rather be under several duvets and I'm not pregnant." She smiles, shaking her head, "Glowing, no, oily, absolutely. Wouldn't miss it, Danny's floored." The girl behind her clears her throat, reminding you both of her looming presence.

"This is Emma Moran, she was on locked in with us," and that's when it hit you. The insufferable woman from Locked In who couldn't seem to keep her hands to herself when it came to the guys on there with even the slightest bit of clout or interest in anyone but her. She wanted attention, negative or positive, in her eyes any of it would do.

You nod along as she fangirls over your husband and his friends, he had fans so this was nothing new but she seemed to discuss solely followers and how she had been trying to get in on a Sidemen shoot or their podcast since the end of the show but never had success. "Maybe you could put in a word," she smiles too big for it to be real, you find yourself unable to control the way your face twists.

Her blue eyes flit from you to him a few times before settling on his face, "Uh, I can't really do much, I mean, I can mention you?" The words come off your tongue sounding unintentionally bitter, "They honestly do their own thing guest wise, I'm just his wife."

"That'd be nice, thank you," you smile, albeit tight-lipped, the next thing she says catches you completely off guard and based on how her brows knit together, Tennessee was thrown off just as much as you: "He is very nice to look at isn't he?" You narrow your eyes in her direction, doing your best to let the comment roll right off your back, he gets that from hundreds of thousands of girls daily. "Yeah, he is. One of the reasons I married him."

Silence quickly falls among you, and Simon, being only an arm's length away, picks up immediately on your now stiffened form and the abrupt ending of the conversation. Emma senses the awkward tension within the circle "Think I'm gonna go get a drink." Her grin resembles the Cheshire cat as she saunters off to the drink table, and poor Arthur Hill gets roped into a conversation with her.

The hazel-eyed girl watches her slip through the crowd of people and once she deems her out of earshot she's quick to let apologies flow, "I'm so sorry about her, she's so odd." You shake your head, giving her shoulder a squeeze, "Her actions are not your responsibility, you have nothing to be sorry for."

"No really, I knew I shouldn't have introduced her," she fidgets with her fingers quickly becoming anxious, "Ten, it's not your fault. I'm fine, I promise." Fine, yes, shocked at her audacity, absofuckinglutely.

Warmth creeps up your neck and soon your whole face feels hot, but you continue the lighthearted conversation with your friend, trying your best to relay how fine you thought you were. You're partial to crashing out in the middle of a party celebrating your best friends but if you could see her undressing Simon with her eyes at that moment, that feeling might just change.

Your ears perk as Danny excuses himself, wanting to mingle with some others Tennessee mutters more apologies as she follows behind her fiancee. "What was that about?" He quickly asks after they've stepped away. Rolling your eyes at the thought of what she said, your hand finds the back of his neck, ushering him down to your height.

"You see that girl over there?" He hums leaning into your touch, "She's your biggest fan, you know that?" another grunt of acknowledgment rumbles against your back, "Said you're nice to look at."

His bottom lip juts out and his brows shoot up, "Oh, really?" You tell him about how she was eyefucking him while you spoke with Tennessee and while you do so Simon's lips meet the exposed skin of your shoulder, his fingers graze over where his mouth just was, sliding the sequined strap of your little black dress down but not completely off.

Public displays of affection like this were few and far between, not due to a lack of admiration but because you loved so deeply it felt too nice to let the negativity of the outside world taint it. Even in the early years of your relationship back in school, you saved it for when it was just you two, now you keep it for when you know there are no cameras to be shoved in your face to capture such intimate moments. At this very second, something within you was staking its claim over him so everyone was aware he was not up for grabs.

"She's definitely watching," his warm breath fans over the place where your neck meets your shoulder, goosebumps rising in the wake of his words. You meet her baby-blue eyes from across the room, watching as her tongue darts out to wet her lips. He speaks up again, rubbing down your sides, to your hips getting dangerously close to the hem of your dress, "Why don't we get out of here?"

You sigh leaning back into him, "Yes please." He laces your fingers together, his thumb fiddling with your wedding ring, keeping you close as he makes his way through the sea of people.

You stop in your tracks unknowingly close to the refreshment table where she was last seen, "Shouldn't we say goodbye before," you cut yourself off at the sight of Emma's manicured hand on his bicep, "Simon, right?" she plays into faux oblivion, "I never got to introduce myself," before she can continue, he removes her hand from his arm stepping back from her.

He doesn't bother exchanging pleasantries, "I'd love to stay and chat, but we've really got to go." Her mouth hangs open before she can rack her brain for some form of rebuttal he's turned, tightening his grip on your hand. You can't help but turn giving her the same sickeningly sweet smile she shared with you earlier, following it up with a wave as you round the door and are out of sight.

[rainebelowzero]

Steve Harrington x Male Reader

not a request

notes: I think this is the first time I've written something where you're explicitly dating the person, yippee 🥳 also this is supposed to take place between S3 and S4, I think it's kinda vague but that's what I was thinking of when I was writing this

♡ blowjob (reader receiving), multiple orgasms, facial, nipple play, a few mentions of angst but nothing serious ♡

.....

..Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen…This isn't helping. You think, staring up at your ceiling in the dark, trying to tire yourself out. It had been...exactly 4 days since you've slept a full 8 hours, and the people around you have been starting to notice.

After everything that's happened, it was hard for you to sleep, so you normally stayed in bed, unable to close your eyes. What made it worse was that you were home alone. Your parents respected you as a responsible adult, which was good but you really didn't want to be home alone.

You had considered calling your boyfriend or one of your friends, but it was late and you didn't want to wake them up. You felt guilty asking one of them to come over.

So you lay there. Dealing with it on your own. You'd fall asleep eventually. Hopefully.

That's until a faint sound comes from downstairs. You try to ignore it. Maybe it was from outside, it happens sometimes. Or maybe the house was settling. Or maybe-

The sound happens again. The creaking of the wooden floor downstairs. Your parents weren't supposed to be home until later the next day, so it couldn't be them.

You stayed still for a second, hoping, praying you weren't about to be taken by some kind of monster. You think about the others. You'd be gone without a trace. Alone. You refuse to go out that way.

You reach out into the darkness, knowing exactly where your bat is. You creep down the stairs, seeing the vague shape of a figure moving in the almost pitch black of your living room.

As you get down the stairs, you notice that it's pretty..human shaped?

You lean towards a lamp, yanking the chain to turn it on. You and the figure jump seeing each other, the man spinning around to face you. Your eyes need to adjust to the light, though it's faint, but you squint at the man.

“Steve?”

He grins sheepishly. “Hi.”

You let out a relieved sigh, dropping the bat down next to you. You didn't realize, but your hands are shaking, Steve drawing your attention to it as he notices and grabs your hands, squeezing them. His hands are warm, very warm, and he looks at you with guilty eyes and a frown.

“I'm sorry I scared you, I just..I couldn't sleep and I wasn't really thinking about how that would scare the shit out of you. I just needed to see your face.” He apologizes profusely.

You smile at him, wrapping your arms around him tightly. He returns the action immediately, and you take in his weirdly super soft sweater and his warm, inviting scent.

“It's okay. I couldn't sleep either.” You respond, your voice muffled as you stay close to him. You pull away a little bit, suddenly confused. “Wait, but, how'd you get in?”

You knew he had a thing for crawling in through windows, but none of yours were open.

“You gave me a key, remember?” He says, pulling out his bundle of a bunch of keys, jingling it a little bit.

You nod. You genuinely forgot you did that. Pulling fully away from him, you drop down onto the couch, sliding closer to him as he does the same.

“Is there a reason you couldn't sleep?” You ask. He shrugs, running a hand through his hair.

“I'm not sure. I've just been pretty restless, I guess.” He looks away from you, and in the dim, warm light of the still, silent living room, you can tell there's something he doesn't want to tell you. Maybe it's the same way you feel. Like you'll close your eyes and suddenly one of your friends will end up missing. Like you won't be there in time to help.

You slide a hand over his and give it a squeeze the way he did for you. He looks back to you, smiling softly. You glance over to your TV, before standing, stretching your arms a little bit. You grin at Steve.

“Let's watch a movie.” You say. You pick a random comedy to lighten the mood and slip it into the VCR, sitting back on the couch. The two of you stay snuggled together, enjoying each other's presence. The faint sound of rain against the ground comes from outside, and you feel way better than you did before with Steve there.

A little further into the movie, you feel the urge to be closer to him, so you hold him tighter, your arm around him and your other hand on his arm, gently running your fingers along it. You can feel the muscle underneath his sleeve, and you give his bicep a small squeeze.

He glances over at you and you laugh softly. He gives you a grin and goes back to watching the movie as you lay your head on his shoulder. Throughout the movie, your hand moves from his arm to his chest, running your hand along his body. He doesn't mind, just turning to press a kiss to your temple and letting you basically feel him up. You slip your hand under his sweater and the shirt underneath, and he jumps a little bit before laughing.

“Your hand is so cold. What are you doing?” He asks playfully.

You shrug, feigning innocence. “Nothing. I can't touch my boyfriend?”

He gives you a suspicious eyebrow raise and looks away, back to your TV.

You move your hand up a little bit underneath his sweater and shirt, and he shudders a little, but doesn't acknowledge it. You pull your hand back, and he sits forward, lifting the sweater over his head. His shirt rides up a little too, and you can see the start of his happy trail, eyeing his body as he tosses the sweater aside, then pulls his shirt off too and sits back down.

You go back to touching him, and he laughs a little bit as you give his chest a soft squeeze. He turns towards you, kissing your forehead. He raises a hand, gently cupping the back of your head as he presses kisses to your face.

You lean forward, kissing his shoulder. Sliding into his lap, you place your knees on either side of his legs, kissing up his chest and then to his neck. His hands go to your waist, holding you as you kiss up to his face, purposely kissing everywhere but his lips. He gives you a fake pout when you pull away.

“What?” You laugh, and he laughs with you, dropping the facial expression.

“You missed a spot.” He responds.

“Did I?” As you say that, he pulls you closer, capturing your lips in a needy kiss. You hold his face gently, Steve kissing you like it's the last thing he'll ever do, like he's dying of thirst and you're the only thing to relieve it.

Your other hand rests against his chest, and your fingers run over one of his nipples a few times, making him groan into your mouth. You knew how sensitive they usually were, and you keep flicking your fingers against his nipple as the bud starts to harden and perk up. You do the same for the other one, switching hands. You pull away for a second, taking a breath before going back to kissing him, rolling his nipple between two of your fingers.

His hips buck up a little bit, and you roll your hips against him to pull more desperate sounds out of him. He gently puts a hand over yours to stop you as he catches his breath.

“Can I suck you off?” He asks, his voice almost a whisper. You grin and nod, climbing off of him. You shove your pants down eagerly while Steve gets on his knees in front of you, hands resting on your thighs. He presses a kiss to your inner thigh, pushing your legs apart a little bit. One of his hands strokes you through the fabric of your boxers, and he gently pulls your cock out, pressing his lips to the head. His lips wrap around the head, tongue gliding along it as he slowly strokes at the base.

You run your fingers through his hair as he takes more of you into his mouth. He lowers his head more and more, until you're fully into his mouth. He pulls your cock all the way out before swallowing it down his throat, bobbing his head and using his tongue to lick against the underside of it. He gags a little, but keeps going, his eyes tearing up a little. You thrust into his mouth, pushing his head down lightly, still letting him do it himself for the most part.

His lips are slick with his spit, dripping down his chin as he releases muffled moans around you. You groan, holding his head in place for a moment, and he lets you thrust yourself into his mouth roughly, staring up at you. The eye contact makes the heat in your stomach grow, and you pull out before you can get to your release. Steve catches his breath, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He grins up at you while you calm yourself down.

“Getting excited already?” He asks teasingly. You laugh, rolling your eyes.

“Shut up.” You respond in a joking tone, leaning down and kissing the man on the lips, tasting yourself on his tongue. He sits back on the couch, and you're instantly back on him, kissing his neck and squeezing his thigh.

He sighs in pleasure, and he pulls his pants off, dropping them on the floor. He turns onto his stomach, pushing his hips back against your dick. You grab his hips, grinding yourself against him a little before pushing his underwear down, revealing his plush, hair covered thighs and thick ass. You spread him open, showing his tight hole, already slick with what you assume is lube. He lets out a soft whimper that he tries to cover.

“Did you already prep yourself?” You ask, kind of surprised.

He turns his head back a little to look at you, half nodding. “I tried to make myself tired, but it didn't work and then I was super..” He trails off, looking for the word.

“Needy?” You finish, giving his ass a squeeze. He moans softly.

“Yeah. For you.”

You giggle lightly, grinding your cock against his hole as it clenches and unclenches around nothing desperately. Steve lets out a few soft gasps, burying his face in his arm as his heavy cock hangs between his legs, tip rubbing up against the couch. You notice and pull your shirt off, sliding it under him so he doesn't ruin the couch. That'd be really hard to explain to your parents.

You almost want to stay like this forever, watching this gorgeous man beneath you grind his ass back against your cock, hole slick and ready to take all of you. You hold him still, guiding yourself into him. Steve groans as the head pops in, and you slowly, almost painfully slow, slide your cock into his ass, his walls inviting you in, holding you snugly.

He has to resist the urge to whine, your dick stretching him out so good, nothing like his fingers. It was exactly what he was craving, legs shaking as you push in to the base and pressing so deliciously against his prostate.

You start to move, thrusting in and out of him before pulling out to the head and slamming yourself back into him. He moans loudly, back arching. His fingers claw at the arm of the couch as you pound into him, your thick cock bullying its way into the man's tight hole each time, pounding against his prostate.

Steve is practically seeing stars, and you have to reach forward to cover his mouth, not wanting your neighbors to hear how loud he's being. He moans loudly into your palm as you dig the nails of your other hand into his hip. He fucks himself back on you and you feel him tense up as he cums without warning, spurting all over the shirt you placed under him. You don't slow down even a little, completely abusing that sensitive spot inside of him and making him twitch and whine from the overstimulating pleasure.

You keep stretching his hole wide, and Steve swears he can feel you in his stomach, knowing he definitely won't be able to walk afterwards. The sound of skin against skin fills your living room, Steve's muffled moans bordering on full on yelling sounding like absolute music to your ears.

He lets out a loud, heavy sob as he tenses again, squeezing tight around you and cumming again. His eyes roll back before his head falls against the arm of the couch. You stop covering his mouth, the only sounds he's letting out being soft, breathy whimpers and desperate gasps for air.

You pound into him a few more times before pulling out and getting off the couch, pumping your cock as you grab Steve by the hair, yanking his head back. He looks so thoroughly fucked out and he sticks out his tongue as you jerk yourself off over his face, groaning as you shoot your hot load all over his face. He moans weakly, swallowing what he could catch in his mouth and dropping his head back down when you let go of him.

He pants heavily, as do you, catching your breaths, when you notice that he's still hard, cock rubbed red against your bundled up t-shirt. He lifts his head enough to look at you, and wiggles his hips a little, silently begging you to keep going. You get back up. You had a lot of time before your parents got back, after all.

[unclewaynemunson]

Pt2 of the badly kept secrets of Eddie's heart monitor

After the first two weeks, Steve seems to have suddenly decided to stop visiting Eddie. No explanation, no goodbye: one day he's there, and then he... Isn't. It takes a few days, sometimes, Steve has a life of his own after all, but a whole week goes by with nothing. And another one. Eddie only knows he's alive – and in town – because the others told him when he asked. Maybe Steve's gotten tired of being surrounded by all that hospital sterility. Or maybe he's gotten tired of being around Eddie. Or maybe... Eddie groans and takes up a stare-down with the fucking heart monitor that's still attached to him at all times, his biggest enemy.

Unfortunately, he has way too much time on his hands, alone in this room and unable to do anything but lie in bed and stare at the ceiling. It makes it far too easy to let his thoughts spiral. Maybe – no, probably, certainly, undoubtedly – that goddamn heart monitor was the ideal help for Steve to decipher Eddie's biggest secret without any difficulties.

Yes, that must be the reason why Steve is staying away. Sure, the guy could tolerate being around “the freak” for a few hours a week out of pity, but of course he wouldn't want anything to do with him anymore upon finding out exactly what kind of freaky thoughts he really has about Steve. Steve was polite enough to pretend like he didn't notice the heart monitor speeding up every single time he got in Eddie's proximity, but of course, of course he noticed. He noticed and now he hates Eddie.

And honestly? He has every right to hate Eddie, with the way Eddie has been exploiting every opportunity to get Steve to touch him. Even though he'd regret it right away whenever the heart monitor couldn't shut the fuck up, Eddie never learned from his mistakes. He was even stupid enough to find meaning in the way Steve's touch would linger after helping him lie down or sit up, stupid enough to find tenderness in the way Steve held his arms when helping him out of his bed and to the bathroom. Obviously, Steve never wanted any of that. Obviously, that only made Steve uncomfortable, but the poor guy was too polite to lash out to the dude chained to a hospital bed healing from having all his organs chewed inside out.

Eddie sighs and closes his eyes; not because he wants to sleep, but because the staring contest with the heart monitor isn't really getting him anywhere. Maybe it's for the best that Steve is staying away. That way, Eddie might be able to get over him more easily. He doesn't deserve Steve's friendship anyway.

***

“I wanna visit Eddie today.”

“Alright, have fun,” Steve answers. “Tell him I said hi.”

Robin sighs dramatically. “No, dingus, you're coming with me. I need a ride.”

“No!” It comes out of his mouth a little too quick, a little too loud, and Robin raises her eyebrows at him.

“No, I can't,” he explains in a calmer voice.

Robin raises her eyebrows even further, making them disappear beneath her bangs altogether. “You literally just told me you don't have plans after work.”

“Yeah, but...” He lets his voice fade out and settles on muttering something incomprehensible.

“I did not understand one single word of what you were saying,” Robin points out. She sounds annoyed, but there's a vaguely amused smile playing around her lips, betraying how she really feels about the whole thing. “Seriously, what's up with you and Eddie? Did you have a fight or something?”

“No...”

“Until two weeks ago, you were at the hospital basically every spare minute of your time. You even canceled two dates just so you could spend more time with Eddie! And now, all of a sudden, you'd rather spend your evening on your own at home watching TV than visit your friend?”

“He's not my friend,” Steve protests.

She gives him a punch against his shoulder.

“Okay, I'm pretty sure he hates me, Rob.” Steve finally caves in. “He gets, like, very uncomfortable whenever I'm around. And I don't wanna add to his discomfort any more than necessary, so it's better I stay away from him.”

“Well, I don't know what on earth gave you that idea, but that is by far the biggest load of bullcrap I heard all week,” Robin says matter-of-factly. “He's asked about you every single time I visited him. He'll be happy to see you, dingus, you're coming with me today. No excuses.”

***

Like clockwork, the steady beeping of the heart monitor falters as soon as Eddie locks eyes with Steve. To make things even worse, what little color that is on Eddie's cheeks leaves his face immediately.

Despite the paleness of Eddie's face, Steve can't help but notice how good he looks in comparison to when he last saw him two weeks ago. He's sitting straight up, leaning against a pillow, and the look in his eyes is far from drowsy.

“S-Steve,” Eddie stutters out. “Hi.” He clears his throat. “And – and Robin, of course, hi! Good to see ya, Buck.” He stretches out his arms to embrace her, and Steve awkwardly comes up behind her. It feels weird not to follow Robin's example and give him a hug, but when he bows over the bed and wraps his arms around Eddie, the beeping immediately picks up speed again. To make things even worse, Eddie quite literally recoils from his touch, leaning away as far as possible and letting his arms hover in the air around Steve more than actually hugging him back.

When Steve looks at Robin, he notices that her eyes have grown about twice their normal size while they flash back and forth between Eddie, the machines around his bed, and Steve.

He locks eyes with her and tries to silently convey a See, I told you so about Eddie resenting him. She answers with a barely visible nod and relief fills Steve's chest. He's lucky to have Robin right by his side, his best friend, the one person he can always count on understanding him. She'll get them out of here in no time and leave Eddie in peace and –

“Oh shoot, sorry, I forgot I need to get a, um, a thing from the car,” Robin says. “I'll be right back.”

As she stumbles out of the room, Steve wants to scream at her that that was very much the opposite of what he wanted her to do, but she disappears before he can do anything about it, only leaving an awkward silence in her wake. So Steve has no choice but to turn back to Eddie and take his familiar place in the chair beside his bed.

“I kinda didn't expect to see you anymore.” Eddie is the one to break the silence. He sounds more distant than the last time Steve saw him. It must be worse than Steve thought: Eddie had been happy to be rid of him and now here he is again, after a meager two weeks of peace.

“Sorry,” Steve mumbles. “She insisted I come with her.”

“So you didn't wanna come?”

Steve chuckles darkly at the irony in that question, not really knowing how to answer that.

“Alright, I'm just gonna say it,” says Eddie when it becomes clear that Steve doesn't quite know what to say. “You figured out what I – how I felt about you, didn't you? Cause of the heart thing.”

Steve looks away, stares intently at the ugly dark blue linoleum carpet under his feet.

“Yeah,” he quietly confesses. There's no use denying it now, he figures.

Eddie heaves out a long sigh.

“For what it's worth: I'm really sorry, Steve, I didn't mean to make you-”

“It's fine,” Steve quickly interrupts him. He doesn't think he could bear Eddie's pity right now. “Don't worry about it. I just wanted to give you some space, y'know, get outta your hair for a bit. I didn't want to make this any more painful for you than it has to be.”

“Really?”

The heart monitor stutters again and Eddie's voice sounds weirdly strained. Steve can't help but look up. He's met with big brown eyes that are looking at him like Eddie actually cares about him. For a moment, Steve imagines to see tears, but then Eddie blinks and the illusion is gone.

“I um... I appreciate that, man,” Eddie says.

Another awkward silence dawns over the room.

“Wait,” Eddie says after a few seconds. “So you're not angry?”

“No!” Steve immediately replies – and it's true. He understands why Eddie doesn't like being around him, that too much has happened in the past for them to just move on and hold hands or some shit.

“It's not your fault,” he tells Eddie. He looks away again, back to the floor in front of his sneakers. “If it's anyone's fault, it's mine, right?”

Eddie huffs out a sound of disbelief. “Why, cause you're just too damn sexy, Harrington?”

Steve frowns. “Well, no, cause I was an asshole and I was mean to your friends during all of high school and it's stupid of me to expect you to just get over that shit and-”

“What the fuck does that have to do with anything?”

There's that stutter in the heart monitor again. It makes Steve wonder if he's putting Eddie's health at risk by simply existing next to him. Maybe it would be better to leave Eddie alone and wait in the car until Robin is done with her visit. What the hell is taking her so long anyway?

He keeps his eyes stubbornly focused on the blue floor. “Isn't that why you got so uncomfortable having me around?” he points out. “Look, I get it, man. I was an asshole, it's true. And it was selfish of me to keep showing up here only because you were too polite to say to my face what you thought about me. I was only thinking about myself and about how much I liked being here with you, it wasn't fair.”

All of a sudden, the soft touch of a hand lands on his shoulder. He hates how that makes his own heart speed up. If he were the one attached to a heart monitor, Eddie would've seen right through him in an instant, that's for sure.

He looks up and meets Eddie's wide-eyed, somewhat shocked face.

“You - you thought you were making me uncomfortable?” Eddie asks him, sounding like he's completely gobsmacked.

Steve frowns. “Isn't that what we've been talking about for the past five minutes?”

“Steve,” Eddie says. “I am so sorry. I didn't – I never – Look. Listen.” He removes his hand from Steve's shoulder and roughly wipes it over his face. His heart monitor accelerates even further. “Please don't hate me for what I'm about to tell you, okay?” He doesn't wait for a reaction, only uses his pause to take a deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before opening them again and looking right into Steve's.

“I'm gay, Steve. And that evil computer over there-” He points towards the heart monitor, “-keeps betraying my big, fat, gay crush on you. Every time you walk in here, or read my book to me, or do so much as smile at me, I just – God, I'm such a goner for you and there was no hiding it because of that stupid fucking thing.”

This time, Steve is quite sure he is not at all imagining the tears in Eddie's eyes.

“I thought that's why you stopped visiting. Cause you figured out how gay I am – about you – and you didn't want anything to do with that. With me. Being gay. For you.”

Eddie swallows. He lifts a hand and pulls a strand of hair over his face in a poor attempt to hide the truly terrified expression that's all over his features.

“Jesus, Eddie,” Steve breathes out. He can't even begin to comprehend how spectacularly wrong he has been about everything. It's almost like he's in shock. Only a minute ago, he thought Eddie despised him. And now, he has to process the revelation that the guy in fact has had a crush on him – a “big, fat, gay crush” – all along. That the reason his heart was behaving so weirdly was because Steve's proximity made him lovesick. That he recoiled from Steve's touches out of fear that the monitor would give him away and make Steve realize he was gay and in love with him.

“Please say something?” It sounds like a question, small and so afraid of what is about to come.

“Eddie, I – Jesus. This is... A lot. To process,” Steve manages to choke out.

“I know,” Eddie says. “I'm sorry I made you think I hated you. But... Please don't hate me. I really missed you visiting. We can be friends, right? You won't even have to touch me ever again, we can just hang out like bros, and I'll try to get my feelings for you under control, and you can-”

Steve finally gains control over his body again: he leaps forward and presses his lips against Eddie's with slightly more force than he had meant to do.

A surprised yelp escapes from Eddie's mouth, and the beeping of the heart monitor goes even crazier. It makes Steve's own heart do a goddamn cartwheel, that audible proof of what he is making Eddie feel.

He completely understands why the heart monitor is going batshit crazy right now; everything about this is fucking amazing. One of his hands finds its way to Eddie's surprisingly soft hair, and he revels in the feeling of touching Eddie again and in the taste of Eddie's lips against his own, and maybe he should just climb into Eddie's bed to–

“Thank God for that.”

They quickly jump apart to find Robin standing in the doorway, an annoyingly smug grin on her face.

“You two could really not be more stupid if you tried, huh?”

Steve squints at her while his hand blindly finds Eddie's on top of the sheets and curls itself around it. He feels his cheeks heat up, but he doesn't care. Nothing matters anymore, except for Eddie's hand warmly resting in his own.

“Did you even need anything from the car at all?” he asks Robin, raising an eyebrow at her.

“No, of course not,” Robin scoffs. “Just needed you idiots to finally get your shit together. I don't think I've ever met anyone more dense than the two of you, seriously! There were at least three moments when I almost barged in here to just smash your faces tog-”

“You were eavesdropping on us?!”

“Obviously.”

Steve opens his mouth, indignant and ready to tell her exactly how mean and evil she is, but she merely raises a hand and the look in her eyes is terrifying enough to shut him up before he has even started speaking.

“Hey, listen,” she says. Something in her face softens. “I'm really happy for you guys. Seriously, no matter how stupid you are, you two deserve every bit of happiness in the world.” She takes a step backwards towards the door. “I'll go wait in the car, dingus. Go kiss each other some more.”

And before Steve or Eddie can say anything, she winks and closes the door behind her.

Taglist: @estrellami-1 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @saramelaniemoon @lololol-1234 @carlajim98 @7-starboi @acedorerryn @hallucinatedjosten @goodolefashionedloverboi @zoeweee @resident-gay-bitch @my2amgaythoughts @didntwant2come @steveshairspray @noodle-shenaniganery @thedragonsaunt @finntheehumaneater @queerriotgrrrl @co5m0 @dino-nuggets-posts

[disguting-girl-reads]

Mina's Favorite Wincest Fic Recs: Sex Pollen, Fuck Or Die, Magic Made Them Do It

do i really need to warn yall there's so much dubious consent in this list? no? yea, i thought so

the constant vow by deadlybride

With Crowley apparently dead and Sam's soul back in place, even though Eve is a worry and Castiel's fighting a heavenly war, Sam and Dean at last have some space to get back to what passes (for them) as a normal life. They've just finished up a pretty standard job and are killing time in snowy Wisconsin when Dean wakes up no longer looking like Dean. That's just the start of their problems.

Mina's note: starting with my ABSOLUTE FAVORITE oh my god I love this one sooo much !! it's not only a fuck or die story, it's a case fic and a genderswap one as dean is cursed to turn into a girl (most accurately, multiple girls lmao)

You put the Magic in Me

“This is the weirdest thing we’ve ever done for a case,” Dean says under his breath, leaning into Sam and scouting the crowd gathered around a dozen tables inside the little café.

“Dude, relax,” Sam says back, eyebrows raising at his brother’s nervous energy. “I thought this would be, like, your thing.” He gestures vaguely to the women milling around inside. A long, vividly red banner hangs across the open french doors that lead into the space, emblazoned with the words The Oolong Tea Room Presents: Lonely Hearts Club Speed Dating! Feb 11-14th!

Or; in which Sam and Dean learn a thing or two about chemistry.

Mina's note: magic made them do it AND breeding kink, sooo delicious I couldn't even be mad at the baby-eating villain

Shenanigans by dreamlittleyo, leonidaslion

The funny thing about true love potions is that they only work if it's destined to be. The funny thing about destiny is that it has a funny way of deciding things without giving anyone a head's up beforehand. Dean Winchester isn't laughing.

Top This by leonidaslion

Dean's sure he's a top. Only problem is, Sam's pretty sure that's his job...

Mina's note: basically the boys fighting mid fuck to see who tops even while suffering through the sex pollen effects, funny and hot.

Just Say My Name by leonidaslion

Dean turns into a complete and utter nympho. It takes Sam a while to notice the difference.

Mina's note: again, so funny and sooo hot.

Forbidden by bloodwrites

Dean's dying, and the only way to save his life is to act on his most forbidden desires.

Aftertaste by Saiorse_Irvyne

A hunt gone awry leaves Dean afflicted with a lethal curse that requires its victim to indulge its darkest sexual desires for it to break free. The horrid nature of Dean's most depraved fantasies, being the reason for a decade of crippling self-hatred, make him seriously consider choosing death.

Sam, however, doesn’t want to accept his brothers demise and proposes heading down a different path.

A path that may lead the brothers to salvation; or straight into the pits of hell themselves.

Dream fuckery by Goshen

"The spell's giving you nightmares?" Sam asked. "How bad?"

The guy in Dean's dream looked like Sam and sounded like Sam, and he'd never felt Sam’s teeth tugging at his lower lip but he figured that felt like Sam, too. His internal screaming reached a fever pitch.

"Fucking vile, dude. Can we please figure this shit out?"

Mina's note: I decided to add this one bc I LOVE IT, but it's not really fuck or die/sex pollen. I mean, they're fucking (kinda off) and dying, so it kinda of counts, I guess.

The Operative Word by road_rhythm

The procedure to break a succubus curse is not overly specific: it requires another person and an orgasm.

No problem, Sam thinks.

Mina's note: proceed with caution with this one, it's not your typical fuck or die fic. It made me cry.

[antispopausandstuff]

one thing that really sticks with me about how SPOP mishandles Adora's character is that they pretend they care about Adora's emotional and psychological sacrifices, but really largely focus on her physical sacrifices. and even then, they focus on it in a very specific, unconstructive way.

yes, they make Catra ask Adora what she wants, but it's not for her own health. it's because the writers, and Catra, want Adora to say that she wants her, regardless of how abusive the relationship is.

in terms of Adora's emotional and psychological sacrifices, she's made plenty for the sake of others, but mainly Catra. and that's never questioned or brought up.

there's not a single scene in the show where Glimmer, Bow, or anyone close to her is frustrated that Adora is constantly sacrificing her own mental health by taking the blame for others actions or inactions. it's only vaguely touched upon in the Perfuma introduction episode, but it's nothing intricate or deeper. they just say "oh, you don't have to be perfect all of the time! that'd be obnoxious of you, anyway!" and that's it. and i never liked the message that sends. it always sounded like they were blaming the 'perfect one' for being that way, not the ones who conditioned them so that if they aren't perfect, they're nothing.

yes, Adora stands up for herself against Catra, but, though it's a great moment for her character, it doesn't exactly feel... natural. in my opinion, anyway.

the reason why i say this is because her support group rarely handles Catra themselves when Adora's in danger, call out Catra for her behavior, notice when Catra's words or influence are negatively affecting Adora, etc., etc. her support group does this with Shadow Weaver, but not Catra, and the writers don't make it great even then, i.e, Shadows of Mystacor.

so, while every beatdown of Shadow Weaver does more or less feel 'earned' ( that's not a great way to phrase it, but i can't think of a better word atm ), Adora standing up for herself in s3 feels almost out of focus? like, i know it likely meant she's not responsible for any of Catra's actions, but it felt more like "i'm not responsible for you making the Portal and breaking the world".

because of how limited the focus of 'sacrifice' is in this show, they don't consider how difficult and taxing it is to give everything to a person, not just your physical health and safety.

it's another reason why i got really annoyed when Glimmer brushed off Adora being angry that Catra was ungrateful and spiteful for all of them saving her. not only because Glimmer has seen Catra be... 'nice', but because it just goes to show that the writers don't actually care what Adora has to sacrifice, physical or otherwise.

C//A isn't just abusive because Catra takes advantage of Adora at every turn and Adora has no escape. it's abusive because every single choice Adora has to make for Catra is, essentially, always going to be a sacrifice, whether she knows it or not.

[4pologygir1]

through the lens | s.r.

pairing: spencer reid x photographer!reader

genre: fluff!

warnings: none! sickeningly sweet <3 no y/n! reader is able-bodied but the description is vague. no gender is specified, but note that i usually have fem!reader in mind unless an ask specifies otherwise >_<

a/n: hi! okay so this was originally going to be twee!reader but reader ended up staying a bit nondescriptive, so i just went with photographer!reader!

w/c: 798 (short & sweet!)

the living room smells like incense and coffee, the kind you drink out of old ceramic mugs from thrift stores. spencer’s sitting cross-legged on your couch, looking like he’s lost in the pages of a book that he's most likely read six times before. you’re on the floor, surrounded by cameras—some vintage, some new, digital, and film–most decorated with small indications of you. scratched lenses lay scattered around your feet, too sentimental to be tossed away. a love for the imperfect, maybe. the tiny things that no one else notices.

you've spent your afternoon together, helping him organize your shelf full of worn books you've loved since middle school, and dancing around your kitchen to belle & sebastian records you bought as a young adult. the little pieces of your world that you choose to share with him open up a whole new kind of intimacy between the two of you– the gentle understanding that comes from knowing.

you’ve been staring up at him for a while now, not in a creepy way, just... you can’t help it. his unruly curls, the way his lips press together when he’s concentrating, the soft hum of his voice when he speaks, like the world is too loud for him and he’s trying to turn it down. you want to preserve the way the orange glow from the window catches on his face, illuminating his sharp features in a way that can only be described as homely.

the click of the shutter is so soft you almost wonder if he heard it. he does. spencer blinks, suddenly sort of self-conscious, his hand combing through his hair like he's not quite sure what to do with himself.

you lower the camera, grinning. “you're so photogenic, it's almost unreal.” you say, soft and full of affection. “like a perfect little snapshot of a sunday afternoon. cozy." you continue, the mumble of your voice softly contrasting the crackle of a vhs playing on the tv behind you.

spencer shifts a little, looking down at the picture in your hands. his cheeks flush, a gentle pink creeping up his neck. “i, uh... really? i think i look a bit odd.” his voice has that nervous, endearing edge to it, like he's unsure whether he should laugh or be embarrassed.

you scoot closer to him, crossing the floor in a few slow, careful movements, until you rest your cheek against his knee, the fabric of his pants soft against your skin. you can feel the warmth from his body radiating toward you, grounding you in the quiet of the room.

you glance up at him through your lashes, your voice almost a whisper. “i think you look lovely. a proper muse, i'd say."

spencer’s breath hitches, and his hand hesitates for a second before it comes down to your hair. his touch is gentle, like he’s testing the waters, his fingers running through your hair slowly, each touch even softer than the last. it's tender and almost shy, and you can’t help but smile against his knee.

“i don’t know,” he murmurs, his voice a little unsure. “i don't think i'm a work of art, exactly.” he admits, his lips pressed together in a way that's vaguely vulnerable but awfully endearing.

you giggle, a small, quiet sound, and you feel his fingers pause for just a moment as if he's waiting for something. “oh, but that's exactly what you are,” you say, your words light and teasing. “you don’t have to be perfect to be perfect. the photograph isn't beautiful because of the way it was taken– the only reason it's beautiful is because of who it was taken of."

there was a beat of silence, and spencer didn't respond right away. you could feel his gaze on you, warm and curious, as if he was processing your words in a way only he could.

you shifted slightly, looking up at him, your heart fluttering a little as you took in the way his expression softened. he didn’t say anything, but the way his eyes lingered on you—full of something unspoken—made your chest tighten with affection.

he reached down, his fingers brushing through your hair, and gently pushed back some loose strands. the movement was tender, careful, like he was afraid to break the fragile moment between you.

and then, without a word, he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, lingering for just a second before pulling back with a smile that was barely there, but full of warmth.

it wasn’t a response he needed to say out loud. his actions were more than enough.

you closed your eyes, cheek returning to its place gently pressed against his knee. spencer reid, your muse, the boy who never quite realized just how special he really was.

[sokkastyles]

It's very weird to me that people will talk about the scene in "The Awakening" as if Zuko is dumping his trauma on Mai, when what he says is like, incredibly subdued and dancing around the actual issue. I also had someone tell me today that he was "probably venting the whole time" during the journey, and the thing is, I very much doubt that considering the context.

Not only is Mai the one who prompts the conversation by asking him if he is cold - because she noticed something was wrong and that being out on deck at night was unusual - but what Zuko says sounds like he actually hasn't said anything about going home before this point.

I've got a lot on my mind. It's been so long, over three years since I was home. I wonder what's changed. I wonder how I've changed.

He doesn't even talk about the real issues, just vaguely says that it's been a long time and he wonders if anything has "changed." Of course, the audience knows, because of what happened in the caves, that Zuko is starting to realize that he made a mistake by choosing to come home. The audience also knows that Zuko has started to realize that what his father did to him was something he did not deserve, which also means that it wasn't about his honor, which also means Ozai might hurt him again even if Zuko comes home victorious. But Zuko doesn't actually say any of that. What he says is actually very similar to what he said in the war meeting to Ozai when asked how to defeat the earth kingdom. It's a neutral statement that is masking what Zuko really wants to say. Which implies that Zuko hasn't talked about it before, and doesn't know how Mai will react to it, has reason to believe she might turn on him if he were to voice the things he voiced to Katara in the caves.

So the idea that Mai shutting him down is like, the result of her having to listen to it the whole trip (which isn't an excuse in the first place) is just obviously not true. And if Zuko was testing the waters to gage her reaction, she pretty much proved that she wasn't a safe person for him to confide in with her dismissive response.

[withleeknow]

for the requests — i'll send two songs that i've liked for quite a while and you can choose the member that you see who fits the vibe?

sand by dove cameron

and

make you mine by madison beer

conversations with strangers.

pairing: seungmin x gn!reader genre/warnings: exes to ??, non-idol au (i wrote this with seungmin in mind as a celebrity/singer or musician of some sort so it's pretty vague and it's not explicitly mentioned what he actually does, so if you wanna imagine him as an idol it still fits the narrative. i can't tell you what to do lol), Angst™️! (i think. i liked this at first but then i was looking at it so much that i became desensitized to it and idk if it's that sad anymore lol); the ending is a little ambiguous maybe?, mentions of drinking, mentions of sex, could've been more edited word count: 2.9k note: this might be one of my favorite things that i've written lately but i am also in my fish freshly dropped on land era so i am fully prepared for this to flop like ass lol bye

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation / request masterlist / ko-fi

I saw the end when we began You couldn't love the way I can I tried to bargain with the stars For more than half of your heart But you have more pieces of me than the desert has sand And I have less pieces of you than I can hold in my hand

Sand - Dove Cameron

"Why did you call me?"

"Why did you come?"

There isn't a good answer to his question, so you choose to ignore it in favor of keeping your eyes on the road, your fingers holding tightly onto the steering wheel. You don't know what to tell him. You yourself aren't even sure why you came to that bar, why Seungmin is sitting in your passenger seat right now just because he was drunk and he wouldn't let anyone take him home but you.

"I asked you first," you say. It takes an effort to keep your voice even, an effort not to look over at him.

"Don't know," he sounds like he couldn't care less, but that's always been Seungmin for you. "Old habits die hard, I guess. You were the only one I used to call."

You round a corner without even having to look at the GPS. The route to his place is still ingrained in your brain even after all this time. On some nights when you feel too stuffy indoors, you would go on a walk by yourself. Directionless for an hour or two, you just want to feel the wind wrap around your body and solid ground beneath your feet.

On these same nights, you would find yourself at Seungmin's door.

It's always unintentional, the way your feet would carry you to his home without your permission.

"Used to," you reiterate. "Past tense. You don't get to call me anymore. I'm not your chauffeur."

You feel his eyes on the side of your face. Then his voice, ever so calm and collected, "You came anyway, didn't you?"

His words irritate you for some reason, even though he means nothing bad. No malice in his voice; he's just simply stating a fact. You did come when he called, and perhaps the person that you're really annoyed with is only yourself, because why did you come?

He should be a stranger to you by now, and yet, you're here.

Maybe you know the answer. Maybe it's not a hard question at all.

You let the both of you wallow in silence for the rest of the drive. When you pull up to Seungmin's building about ten minutes later, you finally turn to cast your gaze upon him with your eyebrow slightly raised, a polite Get out if there ever was one.

Instead of taking the hint like a normal person and going on his merry way, he just stares at you with his big eyes and his hair still styled to perfection even after a night of celebrating and drinking. Seungmin loves to be difficult, this you can't ever forget.

"Well?" you press. "You're home."

He blinks, then swallows thickly. He looks around your car for a few seconds, unsure of himself. If he wasn't intoxicated, you would think he's trying to stall.

"I... I can't go up by myself," he says.

"Are you serious?"

He just nods, something expectant in his gaze.

"You're a grown man."

"Help me up." He doesn't sound all too drunk, but maybe he's just got a way of masking it because Seungmin would never outright ask for help. He's stubborn, and he thinks it makes him look weak. Incapable.

In the end, you give in to his request. You let him lean on you in the elevator on the way up to his floor, the scent of his cologne still overpowering the bourbon he had all night and it makes you just a little nostalgic.

At his door, you hold onto his waist and look away when he punches in the passcode. The door unlocks and this should be it for the two of you, your unexpected reunion should be ending the moment Seungmin crosses over to the other side of the threshold, but he just turns around and looks at you, his body against the frame of the door this time.

"There, you're home safely," you say. "I've done my part. Goodnight."

"Come in."

"Why?"

"I'm tired. Come in." And with that, Seungmin retreats into the apartment, leaving the door open for you to follow without any further explanation at all. For a moment, you stand there by yourself, not really sure of what to do. You hear him shuffling inside, before the sound of his body plopping onto the couch carries over to your ears.

What business do you have here? What business did you have with Seungmin in the first place today?

And yet, you find yourself trailing inside, closing the door behind you until the lock clicks into place. Maybe you're curious to see what the place looks like since the last time that you were here. The two of you never lived together - you weren't foolish enough to agree even though he did ask - but you were over often enough to consider this your second home.

Not much has changed. It's still the same minimalist four walls that you were used to. Same light gray paint, same black couch. Same framed signature of his favorite baseball player and same tiny crack in the decorative bowl on the coffee table. There's a photo on the credenza lying face down seemingly on purpose, but you don't say anything about it.

"What am I doing here?" you ask.

"Why did you come?" he shoots you the question for the second time tonight.

You blink at him. He only stares back.

"Why did you call me?" you repeat. "Why did you really call me?"

Questions thrown out but no answers received, like you're both running in circles, with neither of you knowing why you're even running in the first place.

Seungmin purses his lips before he stands up, the suddenness of the movement leaves him unsteady on his feet, makes him hold onto the couch's armrest for support. "Do you want some water?"

You bite the inside of your cheek. "Okay."

"Give me a second. Have a seat."

You watch as he pads into the kitchen a little wobbly, then returns a few minutes later with two glasses of water. He sits back down on the couch next to you, some distance dividing the two of you. He takes a sip, you do the same.

"Called you because I missed you," he says, casually admitting it like he was merely discussing the weather. The place hasn't changed, but maybe he has.

The last time you spoke to Seungmin was about six months ago, when he dropped off your things two weeks after you broke up. You haven't had any contact since, and that's exactly the way it should be for you and him now. You went your separate ways and that was it. A mutual agreement that hurts, but it was mutual nonetheless. For the past half a year, all he's been to you is a stranger. You know why it had to happen. You agreed to it.

But, just because you haven't talked, doesn't mean that you haven't thought of him. You wish he only crossed your mind in passing, wish your brain only conjured up the image of him whenever you saw something that he would like, or whenever you caught a glimpse of him on the TV or radio. In reality, it's been much more pathetic. You think of him almost every day, despite your best efforts to cleanse yourself of everything that's remotely related to the name Kim Seungmin. His absence carries itself with you all the time, a hollowness that seeps into every crevice of your life.

You know he means it. Seungmin doesn't lie, least of all to you. His honesty twists inside of you like a knife. Salt, meet wound.

You have no words to offer him, no response you can think of that would make sense to say out loud so you don't say anything. The only sound that falls from your lips is his name, like a warning, a plea, a consolation all at once.

But he doesn't seem to mind. Not his sudden vulnerability, not your reluctance to entertain that split second of honesty.

"I answered your question. Now you have to answer mine," he says. "Why did you come?"

"What do you want me to tell you?"

He doesn't respond right away. Instead, he takes a moment like he's mulling it over in his head. "Thought maybe you missed me too," he says eventually, ending the sentence with a bitter chuckle. "Just a little bit."

You tongue your cheek, stall with another sip of water before you place the glass on the table. On a coaster of course, Seungmin hates cup rings on his fancy table.

You lean back to rest on the couch, staring up at his boring ceiling. There are memories of you on this very couch, ones of you lying with your head on his lap as he plays with your hair, the two of you winding down after a long day. Or ones that are far too inappropriate to bring up ever again, of nights where you were both too desperate and impatient to take it to the bedroom. Those gentle reminders are still here somewhere, tucked between the cushions perhaps.

"Sure." You hum, nodding along. "Let's go with that."

Another chuckle, humorless. Though, you think he's pleased enough with that non-answer but you're not sure. He mirrors your position, falling into the couch with a sigh. From your peripheral vision, you think he's scooched closer to you, just by a few centimeters, in the process of settling into the sofa.

"My turn," you say. "Why do you want me here?"

"What is this, 21 questions?"

You shrug simply. "You asked me to come in. I'm just curious."

When Seungmin stays silent for a beat too long, you turn your head to watch him, thinking maybe he's knocked out because of the alcohol in his system. But you find him wide awake, his eyes staring ahead, looking like he's already sober.

His face is unreadable when he says, "Wanted to see something."

"See what?"

"See if something is still there."

It's your turn to remain quiet as you process his words, and it's Seungmin who has to turn to gauge your reaction.

"And? Is anything still there?" you ask.

"I don't know, you tell me. You're the one that stayed."

"Does it matter? If I say there is?"

"Of course it does."

"What would you do about it?"

He goes still once more. You know he doesn't have an answer to your question. What would he do? What could he even do? Patch things up only for them to fall apart again in a couple months? Once upon a time, you were naive enough to think that you could find a way to make it work. You had enough blind faith to think that it would all work out in the end; that if you wanted it enough, maybe the universe would let you have this one thing.

You return your gaze to the ceiling. He's shown you his cards, maybe it's only fair that you show him some of yours too.

An uncertain inhale, then the realization that this is the only time you would be able to have an honest conversation with him about this.

"Wanna hear something funny?" you ask.

"I have a feeling you're gonna tell me anyway."

It's anything but funny, and Seungmin is certain that you're not building up to a punchline. Sure, it's a little tragic that nothing matters, but there's some freedom, some comfort in that too. You can tell him everything that's plagued your mind for the past couple hundred days or so without having to worry about the repercussions. Even though not all is said, everything is already done.

"You know, you were mine before you were anyone else's," you say. You feel his eyes on the side of your face. The silence persists, and you aren't sure if you can take it as a sign to continue, but you do so anyway because at least he's not pumping the brakes on it, right? "I used to be jealous of your life. Toward the end, I mean."

"Jealous of what?"

"I don't know. Just your life, your dream. All of it."

Seungmin blinks. "You were jealous that I got to live my dream?"

"I said I was jealous of your life, not you," you correct him. "Because you always seemed to want everything else more than you wanted me."

"You make it sound like I was the bad guy." He turns a little defensive all of a sudden, an edge in his voice when he says, "That's not true."

You still remember him well enough to know that it is.

And it's not such a terrible thing; it's simply the truth. You can't fault him for having a dream and for having enough courage to see it through, even if it means unintentionally leaving you behind in the process. You could foresee the end even from the beginning. If you wanted to blame someone, you would have to blame yourself too.

You swerve around his metaphorical walls, his make-believe suit of armor. If you'd been nervous around Seungmin tonight, then that anxiety is now chipping away brick by brick the more you internalize the fact that nothing matters anymore.

"Remember your last show before we broke up? You were so happy, I was so proud of you. You belong on stage and I never wanted to take that away from you. But then I noticed the crowd, the thousands of people out there cheering your name and I realized that I would never compare to them. Their praise meant more to you than mine, and it was only a matter of time before you outgrew me to look for bigger and better spotlights.

"I'm not saying you were wrong for any of it. I don't blame you. You were always going to outgrow me. It's sad, but it's okay. I always knew that you'd have to leave me behind at some point. It's on me too; I just fell too hard too fast for someone who could never stay. It's your dream, you can't help it. But that night... that was the nail in the coffin for me, knowing that one day, to you, I would be just one of the faces in a crowd that you can't even tell apart."

It doesn't hurt as much as you thought it would. In fact, it's even a little cathartic to pour out the words that have been sitting heavy on your chest. Although it's not until a single tear spills over that you realize your eyes have welled up somewhere along the way. You quickly wipe it away with your thumb, then you feel his hand reach for yours after a few beats.

Seungmin calls your name, and you can hear the regret in his voice. When you look at him, his eyes have softened, no longer on the defense now that you've beat him to the offense. "I'm not drunk enough to forget about this in the morning, you know," he says.

"Does it matter? What are you going to do about it in the morning?" you ask. "We're already broken up. It's not like we can go anywhere from here. But at least now you know what it was like for me."

It seems to be a common theme tonight - stretches of silence in between admissions of truth so that one of you can gauge the other's reaction, trying to assess what path would be worth it to take at this crossroad you find yourselves unable to move on from.

Then he's tugging on your hand, pulling you to him until you're in each other's orbit again. Close enough for him to wrap his arm around you. Close enough that you're weak, not that you were ever that strong to begin with. It doesn't really come as a surprise that you let him.

"I..." Seungmin starts, full of uncertainty as he tries to string together a sentence. "We could go back."

This isn't a surprise either, that you're considering his words.

"What happens when it ends again?"

You can practically taste the residual bourbon on his breath when he leans into you, his lips brushing your cheek just slightly. "Then it ends again," he says, a little pained, all too selfish. "But it'll be worth it. It's worth it to me."

"What if it's not what I want? What if it's not worth it to me?"

He pulls back, putting some distance between your faces so he could see you better, the deep brown of his eyes searching for something that you're both aware of.

"You came tonight," he murmurs, as if that in and of itself is a sufficient enough explanation. "You stayed."

Not all is said, but everything is already done.

You had chance after chance after chance to leave, to shut this down - whatever this is - but you didn't, not even once. You're still a willing participant even though you've lived through this ending before. You know he loved you, know he loves you even if the way he goes about it is selfish.

Because you do know the answer to his questions. It's clear as day; anyone can see it from a mile away.

When your world eventually comes crashing down again some time from now, you won't blame Seungmin. You won't blame yourself either, despite having option to walk away from all of this right now.

Because maybe some pains are worth enduring twice, aren't they?

Why did you come? Why did you stay?

Is anything still there?

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 08.06.2024]

[meistwentyinchheels]

having many thoughts about percy (he drives me insane) idk what the kf devs put into this man, but i swear i'm addicted. like the more i learn about him the more obsessed i become,,,i think i'm mentally ill

anyways since i think a lot about him (and my kf mc, may. might actually drop a lore post on her at some point) i will now be sharing some of those thoughts. also have a strong feeling this post is gonna end up pretty long just as a heads up lmfao

also a lot of this is just speculation on my part and me trying my best to analyze the little amount of information we have as of the moment. just as a disclaimer, anyways!

out of the three love interests i genuinely think percy might be the angstiest route for the following reasons (under the cut):

like first off, the devs have mentioned in the past that one of the routes will have a forced breakup to serve the greater narrative (this was mentioned a really long time ago tho so it might've been subject to change, but since we have nothing that proves otherwise i am running with it.) and i do not believe in any way that it could be elio,,,unless the devs decide to throw us a curveball lmao jamie is still an option and he was my first thought when i found out about the breakup route, butttt i doubt it'd be him. so from process of elimination that only leaves percy. he's also the only one out of the lis that has been in relationships before and judging from past asks i'm assumingggg that those past experiences most likely still affect him.

second, every single mention of his family has been vague at best and there's been ZERO mention of his mother. in the asks only his dad has ever been mentioned and also in the studying event if u go off with percy and elio, go to check out the polo club and choose to stay back with percy he'll mention that he moved to the states with his dad. normally people would mention both parents, but percy didn't so it's likely his parents divorced at some point? also i had a whole ass supposedly sound argument here, but it got disproven bc apparently his step-dad also came with them to the states??? like yes it does still prove that his parents r divorced, but it can also imply he has 2 dads. that's so funny i love it. okay moving onto my actual point!!! since percy is a child of divorce it's likely also affected his view of love and romantic relationships. possibly in a skewed way, but who knows so that does add to the angst factor QUITE a bit

finally, percy's avoidant and deferring nature. during the festival event if you split up and then go to check out the festival games you end up running into percy, which is when the game tells you that he tends to defer to what others want and seems to be perkier exploring the games by himself. there's also a few occasions in-game where if the mc tries to ask percy about himself he tends to either A. brush the topic off or B. push the attention onto someone else (usually elio?). so i'd assume that he dislikes talking about himself? which would mean it would take him a good while to open up. which isn't inherently a bad thing, but it can also cause communication issues so. sigh.

is this flimsy evidence? yes! but do i care? no! also i would do a deeper dive into this if i was actually good at analyzing character behaviors,,,and if not for the fact that at the time i'm writing this it's 1am on a school night. there's also so many other things i could have talked about!!! like his name!!! maybe some other day. so like. do with all this information what you will. bc i certainly will!!! i have so many ideas!! many angsty notes!!! be prepared.

[circle-of-mushrooms]

Mammon x autistic reader perhaps? 🥺

Mammon x Autistic Reader Headcanons a/n: autism is a spectrum and everyone is different, so i just based these off my own experiences and tried to keep things vague. but i love mammon and this was a great ask

♡ Mammon is an old, old man . . . He's been around for ages and while he stays on top of things to keep his products relevant, its likely he hasn't delved too deep into new research surrounding disorders. ↳ That said -- you probably have to be as patient with him as he has to be with you and be prepared to explain things several times to him. ♡ If you're super particular about something, there's no doubt that he's able to make sure everything is up to your standards. ↳ Imagine they changed the recipe to one of your favourite store-bought foods and while no one else can really taste the difference, you sure can, and it's effectively ruined your whole month. Boom. Mammon's got that company sitting in the palm of his hand and he's made them change it back to how it once was.

↳ If you prefer a certain texture/fabric for your bedsheets or clothing, he's making sure everything in your house is made out of it. Only if you please. His idea of love is making all your wants a reality. ♡ It's easily to be overstimulated in a circus.

↳ The first time you attended one of his shows, the crowds alone were overwhelming - but then the sickly sweet smells of stall food hit you, followed by the sound of repetitive horns honking and bells jingling. The popcorn was overly greasy for some reason, making your hands feel unpleasant and impossible to use. ↳ When you shut down, Mammon didn't understand what was going on. He was a little pissed at first, thinking you were causing a scene but upon seeing your face, he quickly teleported you to somewhere more quiet.

↳ It took some explaining, but he understood soon enough. He still wants you to come to the shows he hosts - even if you're both just in the audience - but he ensures you're comfortable first. Noise-cancelling headphones? Check. And you get there early to avoid the crowds and can stay well above them when you cuddle with him up on his spiderweb as you watch the show. ♡ Mammon is undoubtedly an enabler.

↳ If you have an interest that calls to you to buy merchandise or paraphernalia that relate to it, he's encouraging you to buy it! Hell, give him some sugar and he'll buy it for you himself!

↳ Greed is king and he's the king of Greed, baby! If you want to make an unreasonable purchase, he sure as hell will let you.

↳ "Go on, ya know ya want it. What's a couple a' fifties if it makes ya happy!" And you complain you don't have the cash to spare. "Yeah, alright, alright. Then how about you give me a kiss, and we can see if Mamz can get it for ya?" And he's got the widest grin ever.

♡ Surprisngly, he's a decent listener . . . ?

↳ You want to ramble away about something, you can. It was originally annoying to him that he wasn't the one controlling the conversation but when he saw how happy you were when he shut up and listen once, he learnt that sometimes being quiet wasn't so bad. You're cute when you ramble.

↳ "Eh wait, so run it by me again, doll. What's this thing all about?" And he already knows, but he wants to hear you say it again with the same passion.

♡ Misunderstandings can happen.

↳ If you're unable to read tone all too well over text, then you at least have the comfort of knowing that Mammon doesn't hide his emotions - even through messages. He tacks on lots of smileys and emojis so it helps a lot for indicating his tone. You find it cute that his emoticons have eight eyes sometimes. ::::)

↳ But there's still times when you misunderstand something he says or even vice versa, and you both have to scramble to make some sort of amends. He isn't too good at accepting blame but does his part to not push it on to you either.

↳ Another thing you like is that he's pretty straightforward and doesn't beat around the bush, so there are no guessing games. If you're the same, then he thinks it's great! Maybe even hilarious if you have the balls to be upfront with a Sin. Maybe that's what made him interested in you.

♡ If anyone gives you shit, they're dead. No question.

♡ But otherwise, nothing changes! Once you tell Mammon all your boundaries and preferences, he's incorporating them into your now shared lifestyle and dates - anything to keep his fav around!

But he isn't babying you or treating you any different from anyone else. The special treatment you do get is because he loves ya and loves spoiling his doll rotten!

[shigarakisslutbag]

Here are some "romance" tropes I feel would fit shigarakis love style if he were in a relationship or liked someone:

Grumpy and sunshine

Like actual grumpy/sunshine. Not bully x sunshine/sweet reader lol.

Idc what anyone says I firmly believe tomura would have a soft spot for his love interest. It would probably take a long time to build these sort of feelings, but once he does, he does his best to hide it

One: scared of ruining his reputation

Two: doesn't want any hero to use those feelings against him. This is a huge reason it takes him a while to admit any feelings to even himself, he doesn't one the one good thing he has, to disappear.

It kind of plays into the next one

Opposites attract

This isn't always the case of course. And in some aspects tomura would obviously want someone similar to him (hobbies, valuing alone time ((probably)), loyal, etc)

However

This sounds a bit cheesy lol but bare with me. You're like the one thing that keeps him afloat. He can't grow and mature if it's always raining (so to speak), so he needs "sunshine" to remind him that he has supporters. He needs someone to keep him in check and remind him of the things he has going for him when he can only see the cons of a situation.

The Wonderful thing about you, is that you don't just tolerate him, you actively want to see him succeed and want to help further his cause.

He'll fs act like your bubbly personality is inconvenient though, but if you have even a slight change in your attitude, he notices. And will ask you what's going on (in his own way lol. He's trying give him a break. If he didn't care he'd definitely just tell you to get over yourself)

Soul mates

Okay listen. Listennn. This may not sound very realistic at face value. But in a scenario in which you aren't affiliated with the league at all, he'd probably meet you out in public. Likely out to steal some new game or snack/drink he wanted (from a chain store ofc. If it's a chain it's free reign)

That said, he'd either see you on his walk there or in the actual store. Either way, he's burdened by some hero on their first job not knowing, well, how to do their job.

This hero in particular has some sort of "cupid"- like quirk.

Shigaraki, to his dismay, gets hit lol. No one could recognize him with a face mask and hoodie on though. But the first person he looked at was, you guessed it, you. You locked eyes with each other and he felt something he hadn't felt before. It made his stomach turn. He hated and loved it. Was it butterflies? Wasps?? Either way he feels like he just touched wet food in the sink but also wonders how he got so lucky to see eyes like yours- god, he hated being in public .

Tomura, after being hit, fell down from the force of what hit him. Literally fell for you. And you said something he'd never heard before. Something no one has ever really asked besides his mom

"are you okay?" And it's all down and uphill from there .

First love mixed with childhood friends trope

Last one, promise lol. Unless someone asks for a continuation.

I mention these two tropes mixed together, because honestly I see this as one of the most likely tropes. Tomura, as an adult has probably only a vague memory of you due to all the trauma. He blocked out quite a lot.

You were probably one of his closest friends. Granted, you two only knew each other for a brief time as you were both around 5 years old when the tragedy happened. You two probably met in elementary school if his parents sent him (elementary is not mandatory in Japan from what I read. They start first grade after they turn 6 is though). If it wasn't that, you two were likely neighbors or something. Regardless, you two were inseparable at the time.

As kids, you both had a pretty innocent view on how the world worked. Little you at one point may have even asked him why he scratches his face all the time. He'd say he doesn't know, but it feels worse when he's at home. Youre tiny little heart couldn't handle seeing the sad look on your friend's face. Almost immediately you took him to your bathroom and got the "tube with medicine stuffs" that your parents used when you got scratches to help itching or pain (which was probably calamine lotion or cortisone), and put some little bandaids on his face (he said the all might ones would make his father mad. That made you more sad, but you kept those feelings to yourself)

He'd even come back to your place when he felt itchy at home. One night though, you ran out of the topical treatment. You were both sad but went on about your time playing pretend and talking about whatever you two could think of. Time went by and he realized he wasnt itchy. Not with you. Never with you. From that moment forward he considered you his "bestest friend".

As an adult, he probably only memorized you from a feeling of loss, and missing something that he couldn't pinpoint why. This probably made him itch more. It wasn't until he had his transformation arc and his voice matured, that he realized what was making him itch so much. It was the loss of you. At least he doesn't itch anymore.

A/N: OP tries not the make themselves cry challenge (fails miserably). Anyways if there's any typos I apologize. It's 3 am and I wrote this out on a whim. Ikik I got too carried away writing, but oh well. Some of these I felt like writing a whole fic for tbh lol. That said, feel free to tell me what your favorite trope is and which one of these you loved the most:)