#just pop over into another body for my own convenience

[himmelskorpern]

i wish there was a button to just trans the gender. i just want the male anatomy without the commitment…

[euthymiya]

Starting an internship at the company Satoru’s father owns but you don’t know who he is just yet.

He’s annoying. He always comes back from lunch late, lets his phone ring at his desk (that’s conveniently placed next to yours) past the three ring policy, writes emails with silly and immature sign-offs, cracks jokes during meetings, and somehow, despite always finishing his paperwork late, he never manages to lose his damn job.

You try to mind your own business. But you can’t help but feel him slowly grate at your nerves as he acts so unprofessional and for some weird reason, not one person seems to care.

He seems pretty intrigued with you, too, if matters couldn’t get worse.

“Hey,” he grins. You try to ignore the tilt of his lips in amusement as you just barely fight off rolling your eyes.

“Can I help you with something?” You sigh, “I’m currently in the middle of something that requires my full attention, but maybe we could—”

“You really love your office jargon,” he hums, cutting you off with a wider grin, “so dedicated.”

“Oh, my apologies,” you smile tightly. He seems to straighten a little, some sick, twisted form of excitement rushing through his system at the way he seems to get under your skin. “Allow me to use simpler language for you to understand: go away, I’m busy.”

Someone has to stand up to this prick, you think. He puts in half the effort, and somehow, you’re pretty sure your boss has a soft spot for him. You don’t understand it, and quite frankly, you’ll be damned if a lazy, lackluster man snags a promotion before your hardworking self.

“Oh wow,” he snorts, “breaking your strictly professional streak, are you? You must be really occupied. I guess I’ll borrow your stapler later.”

Gritting your teeth, you give him yet another tight lipped smile before grabbing the stapler off your desk and handing it to him. (A small part of you resists the urge to throw it square at his face. Maybe the image of him on the floor with a bloodied nose would make your day a little easier, but then you’re sure you’d be jobless).

“Here you go,” you say with as much kindness as you can muster. (It’s not a lot). “Please do bring it back when you’re done. Some of us actually complete paper work, so the stapler is a necessity.”

“Oh yeah?” He tilts his head, eyes sparkling with mischief, “don’t worry, I won’t hold your stapler hostage for too long. I wouldn’t want to disrupt the flow of your productivity.”

You watch with wary eyes as he walks back to his desk, stapling some small, tiny note of sorts before walking right back, handing the paper and the stapler to you.

“What’s this?” You raise a brow.

“Some paper work for you to fill out,” he grins, the vagueness of his answer making a vein all but pop in your forehead.

Before you even have a chance to tell him that you most certainly will not be entertaining whatever silly prank he’s playing, he walks right off, sagging into his chair as he does an obnoxious little spin and goes back to typing at his computer. Probably yet another email with a ridiculous ending, you think to yourself.

Against your better judgement, you stare at the note, eyeing the small flap he’s stapled over an index card. You lift it up, quickly scanning over his scribbled writing.

Want to grab coffee during lunch? Check your answer:

▢ yes! ▢ absolutely! ▢ most definitely!

Your eye twitches.

Grabbing a pen, you quickly add a box underneath his (very confident) options, checking it off and writing in neat, pristine handwriting:

▣ not a chance!

You stand, walking over to his desk and ignoring his perked up, excited little smile as you drop the note back on the table and head back to your own desk. A tiny wave of satisfaction weaves through your body when you notice him read over your response and deflate, a small pout forming over his lips.

Regretfully, a small part of you can’t help but acknowledge that he’s actually…kind of cute when his lips are curled like that. But a larger part of you shakes that thought away and cringes internally. It’s a shame his personality ruins the genetic blessings he seems to have been bestowed with.

And you think that’s the end of it—but of course, with someone like Satoru in the office, there’s never the end of anything.

You watch as an email pops up on your screen, opening it only to stare blankly at his name and roll your eyes at the subject line:

────────────────────────

Follow-Up on Submitted Paperwork

Greetings office neighbor,

Thank you for submitting the paperwork. Unfortunately, I couldn’t help but notice that it does not fully align with the outlined guidelines. Could you please provide clarification or revise the submission accordingly?

Thanks a million,

Gojo Satoru :)

────────────────────────

And there he goes again with those obnoxious sign-offs, you think bitterly. Instantly, you’re clicking away at your keyboard as you type back an agitated response. Of course, you really shouldn’t entertain his ridiculous schemes, but something about him gets under your skin enough that you simply can’t help yourself.

You huff in approval at your response as you read it over before hitting send.

Instantly, as if he was waiting, you see his hand reach for his mouse and click on his screen to open your email as his eyes scan over your reply:

────────────────────────

Thank you for reaching out,

Unfortunately, I was unable to fully adhere to the outlined guidelines, as they are not viable in this situation. To address this, I adjusted the submission to align more effectively with a more practical outcome.

Hope that helps!

Your office neighbor :)

────────────────────────

Just when you think he’s given up, he rolls his chair over to your desk, causing a couple of annoyed heads to tilt up and glare at him for the noise before turning their attention back to their work. You pinch your nose as his chair rolls to a stop in front of your desk.

“Yes?” You grit through your teeth.

“Hey, office neighbor,” he hums, “just wanted to clarify your most recent email with you. I’m a bit confused.”

“Which part confused you?” You bat your lashes in faux charm, sarcastically smiling at him as he hums, grabbing a piece of candy from your little bowl of sweets at your desk and helping himself.

Your eye twitches a little at the gesture. Those are for you to enjoy throughout a miserable work day.

“Um…” he trails off as he pretends to think, “I’d say all of it.”

“I see,” you nod slowly, fighting every bone in your body not to snap at him with a colorful choice of words. “Essentially, the options in your original document did not highlight a plausible set of deliverables, so I corrected them for you with a more realistic one. Make sense?”

“Not really,” he sighs dramatically, pretending to scratch his head in confusion. You want nothing more than to grab those snowy locks and slam his face into your paper shredder. “Could you go over it one more time? I’m still lost.”

You’re just about to lose your patience with him when suddenly, the entire office seems to collectively take in a sharp breath, everyone scrambling to look as productive as possible while a tall, older looking man with suspiciously familiar white hair and blue eyes walks through the office. Something in your brain sets off alarm bells, but you can’t quite completely piece it together what it is about him seems so….recognizable.

“Who’s that?” You frown, scrunching your nose in confusion as everyone straightens up.

“That would be the final boss,” he snorts. You roll your eyes at his word choice before blinking and straightening up yourself.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, voice a panicked whisper as you ask, “you mean the owner of this company?”

“Yeah,” he drawls, raising a brow at you in amusement. “Never seen him before?”

“No,” you hiss, “I’m just the intern! Now go back to your desk before he thinks we’re goofing off, I’d like to keep my job, please.”

“I don’t think that’ll be a problem,” he hums.

You send him a nasty glare, just about at your wits end as you whisper-yell, “I am going to throw my stapler right at your—”

“Satoru, I need you in my office,” comes a stern, deep voice, interrupting you as you quickly shut your mouth.

“You got it, old man,” he salutes in mock seriousness. Suddenly, your spine goes rigid and your eyes widen. The man walks off with a firm nod as Satoru stands, giving you an innocent smile.

Suddenly, it dawns on you just why he looked so strikingly familiar.

“Did you just call him old man?” You blink, mouth agape.

“Yup,” he winks, walking backwards as his eyes stay trained on you while he heads for the elevator. “I’ll put in a good word for you when he’s in a better mood at home tonight. I think we can discuss the specifics over coffee during our lunch hour, yeah?”

[justwonder113]

Sharing bed with Seungmin

Chan; Lee Know ; Changbin; Hyunjin; Han; Felix; Seungmin; IN;

My Masterlist

Summary: After facing the horrible and vile beast and hurting your leg in the fight, your best friend offers to let you stay in his house. Where one thing might lead to another. Warning: cursing as always, there's no surprise there. Not proofread. Both Seungmin and Reader are quite goofy. Reader is gender neutral. Mentions of kissing.

A/N- Hey babies! I'mglad to say I'm back and well. I hope you'll like this fic. Reblogs and cooments are greatly appreciated. Feel free to request and send your thoughts if you have any❤️ Word count- 1.8k

Having your own house is a beautiful experience. It’s like an adventure of having your own kingdom and being a monarch. You have all the privacy and personal space one can dream of; you have peace and quiet; you have freedom to do whatever you want be it walking around butt naked or cooking up a three course meal at  3am; you can have random 3 am dance concerts and so on and so on. Most importantly you could do whatever you wanted to decorate and style it which is what you were busy doing right now.

Lately your Pinterest feed was full of various versions of colorful archways. People came up with so many interesting ways to add a pop of color to their house and it seemed quite easy to do so. So here you were perched on the stool unleashing your inner artist on your archway. Well at least that was the plan. Everything went to gutter when you saw a movement in the corner of your eye. You turned around made eye contact with probably the most disgusting and vile looking grasshopper ever. The horrific appearance of the beast made you scream so hard the beast also got startled and fucking jumped on you! Obviously you lost your shit at that too, your already shaky and unstable stool just couldn’t take it anymore. One second you were screaming your lungs out the next second you were on the floor with your leg hurting like a bitch.

You must have made quite a lot of noise because almost immediately the front door of your house basically burst open and Seungmin rushed towards your hunching figure. You had almost forgotten he was supposed to come over. You had even left your door open for him. Quite convenient, because no way in hell would you be able to stand up and walk towards the door in this state. You sure as hell hoped you didn’t break it.

“Are you okay? What happened?” Seungmin looked frantic as he nervously examined you. You wanted to keep your cool, you really did. But the pain and the shock took over your senses and the next thing you knew you were bawling your eyes out as Seungmin, confused and unsure of what to do, cradled your body close to his frame and tried to calm you down.

You were unsure of what happened next. You were pretty out of it. Maybe out of shock maybe because of the painkillers, who knows. Seungmin did most of… Well basically everything. He helped you get ready, took you to the hospital, did basically all the talking with the doctors, stayed with you through every procedure… He even took care of all the paperwork, bought all the meds and not once did he complain about anything! Even more, he bought you to his house! Well he said because you couldn’t be trusted to be alone but you knew it was because he was worried, also you did complain quite a lot about being afraid of the beast lurking in your house. With your foot strained like this there wasn’t even a possibility for you to run away from the hideous creature.

If you thought that he wasn’t husband material before (oh no you were totally not crushing on your best friend, not at all!), he even made you dinner, which was just finger licking good! He made sure to step away to his room to make a call, but you could still hear how he asked Minho for tips. How could you not love him? He even called Minho! He hated asking him for help. He looked so good doing everything too, all you could think about was how you wanted to kiss him.

“You’re the best Minnie.” You cheered as he helped you get to bed. He insisted that you take his bed, refusing to hear you protest. You loved how he always acted like everything was such a bother and then went out of his way to do it.

“Shut it, I’m only letting you sleep on my bed because knowing your clumsy ass you’ll fall of the sofa and further injure yourself!” He grumbled as he tucked you in like you were a literal child.

“Aww you do care about me.” You couldn’t help but tease.

Seungmin only scoffed – “Don’t push it!”

“I love you too!”- You mused, he rolled hie eyes at that but you could have sworn the corner of his lips lifted up. He was about to leave but you reached in just in time to grab his hand. Seungmin looked taken aback for a second but quickly gathered himself. “Please stay?” You made sure to do your best puppy eyes and it worked! Seungmin immediately caved, but being a stubborn ass, he is he just plopped on you. Careful to not touch your leg but still with enough force to squish you.

Honestly, jokes on him because you only saw this as an opportunity to wrap your hands around him and tightly hug him. He “tried” to get free but you knew that this softie enjoyed the hug, the big ass smile on his face confirmed it. In mere sounds he stopped resisting and continued to just flop on you.

“What are you doing?” He huffed out while his face was adorned with the prettiest smile ever. God you couldn’t understand how could he say anything bad about his smile or even think of hiding it. It was always so innocent and pure. It never failed to put a smile on your face, to light up your whole world.

“Showing how thankful I am?!” – To further prove your point you leaned in and gave him the fastest smooch on his cheek. Seungmin made sure to grimace as dramatically as possible, but as always, his arms wrapping around your waist told whole another story about how he felt.

“Oh really? By kissing my cheek?” What a little shit. Now it was your time to roll your eyes. “Are you insinuating I should kiss you elsewhere?” You tried to not sound as hopeful as you actually felt.

Seungmin barked out a teasing laugh-“As if you could, you don’t have the guts for it!”

You quickly let go of him and crossed your arms to show your disdain, with equally matching scowl adorning your face. That didn’t stop him from hugging your frame, in fact he tightened his hold around your waist. “How dare you sir!”

Seungmin looked at you with challenging look, his eyes full of amusement. “What? Are you going to kiss me then?” His voice was teasing, you couldn’t tell if he was actually for real or not. You couldn’t’ tell if you should challenge him or not.

“I just might!” – You challenged, thinking that you just might as well go with it. You could always play as if you were joking. You hated hiding your true feelings but anything was better than possibly losing him as a friend.

“What are you waiting for then?”? You thought you knew him the best but you couldn’t really decipher what his face meant. Was he actually for real? Were you two about to cross the line that could possibly ruin your friendship either for the best or for the worst?

“Don’t you dare regret it!” You whispered against his lips. When did Seungmin’s face get so close? With every breath your lips slightly brushed against each other. You could smell the minty smell of his toothpaste. God you were really about to do it!

“Wouldn’t dream of it love.” His voice was low, almost like a whisper. God, you couldn’t resist him anymore. Here went nothing. Bringing him closer with his face you finally connected your lips together.

His lips were a bit cold and chapped but nonetheless you loved how they felt against yours. Your whole heart was bursting with joy. Every drag of your lips against each other felt like heaven, you couldn’t help but lean in for more. Seungmin must have also felt that way because he also kissed you like a starved man, like you were oxygen he needed to breathe. His hands had shifted from around your waist, one hand held your hip tightly while the other migrated to your neck and softly rested there. You also couldn’t keep your hands to yourself, your one arm was wrapped around his shoulders as the other still held his cheek to have him as close as possible. His lips were almost addictive like a drug you didn’t know needed in your life you just couldn’t get enough.

Unfortunately for you, you had to lean back to get some air. You always thought that oxygen was overrated anyway but biology or whatever. Seungmin also seemed unimpressed to be away from your lips but that still didn’t stop him from covering your whole face and neck with sweet kisses.

“I thought I was the one supposed to be the one saying thanks?” You couldn’t help but giggle as he kissed the ticklish spot on your neck. Seungmin looked up to you for a second then quickly got up. Your heart clenched at the idea that you might’ve done something wrong but he immediately washed away those worries by walking around the bed and laying down on the bed next to you, under the same queen size cover.

You looked at him with wide eyes as he got more comfortable laying on his back and opened his arms for you almost like an invitation. “All done!”

“What are you doing Min?” A smile crept up your face as you examined his mischievous smile.

“I just got more comfortable, you can thank me as much as you want now.” Seungmin answered proudly with the prettiest smirk adorning his face.

 You couldn’t help but mirror the expression. “You’re such a brat sometimes. What should I do with you?”

As if seriously thinking things over Seungmin furrowed his eyebrows and to be extra dramatic crossed his arms. You loved how giddy he felt after your kiss. It felt nice knowing you weren’t the only one losing your shit on the inside.

Seungmin smiled, and you knew immediately he was about to smartass you. You tried to turn away from him to not give him the satisfaction but he was quicker. He wrapped his arms around you and brought you closer to his body, his forehead gently resting on yours. “You love me!” After rolling your eyes at his goofyness you sighed in defeat and relaxed into the hug.

“You know what? I do.” You leaned in and sealed your lips again to further confirm your feelings. You would have hurt your leg a long time ago if you knew it things would end up like this.

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Taglist (feel free to either comment or massage me if you want to be added to my taglist ❤️) : @velvetmoonlght

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Summer Breeze 9

Warnings: age gap (reader is 22, Andrew is mid 40s), dad’s friend, Andy being Andrew, other dark elements. As usual, be mindful of your content consumption.

I also beg of you to leave me some tuppence in the form of a comment and/or reblog. You are cherished!

Enjoy, my loverlies.

“I don’t think I can make the drive back up,” Andy yawns, “I got us a house not far from here.” 

He gets in the driver seat as you take the passengers. The exhaustion is finally winning, so much so that you hard care about any of it. You just want to be in one place and laying down. 

“A house?” You rub your cheek and lean into the door. 

“Yeah, got a buddy. He rents it out on some app, thought about doing the same with our place,” he checks his blind spot as he backs out, “anyway, lot of whatever. He doesn’t have any booking so I called in a favour.” 

“Mm, lucky,” you mumble and your eyes droop. 

Your dad doesn’t have any convenient friends. Just Andy. Your mom told everyone he was a piece of shit during the divorce and she moved away once you hit eighteen so he had to live in the cess pool of it all.  

Andy moved in about the same time but you never really thought of him as more than a neighbour. He had a beer with your dad now and again whenever he needed help with some DIY but it was never that deep. You suppose after you went off to college, your dad had more time to waste on friends. 

Your mind keeps wandering to the minuscule; the irrelevant. Just so you don’t have to think about the worst. You let your eyes close and sink down. 

“Just relax, sweetheart,” Andy’s silty tone follows you down, “be like twenty minutes.” 

The motion of the car lulls you. Your head thrums and your body goes hollow. You feel like you’re made of air as your mind ripples. It’s only as you come to a stop that you’re roused from your trance. You sit up and sniff. 

“How ya doin’ over there?” Andy rests his hand on the corner of your seat. 

“Fine, fine, I’m just...” 

“Tired. Yeah, you were snoring,” he snickers, “kinda cute.” 

You blink and keep your brow from furrowing. Sometimes he says things that don’t need to be said. You suppress a yawn and undo the seat belt. 

“It’s been a long couple days.” 

“Tell me about it,” he tuts, “I’ll grab the bags.” 

Another storm of confusion takes you. You keep forgetting the little details. You get out and wait for him as he pops the hatch. He pulls out your pink duffel bag and his own dark blue suitcase. He hauls both with him as he approaches. 

“The key is on the door. You just need to put in the code,” he instructs, directing you ahead of him with the tilt of his chin. 

“Oh, sure.” 

You turn and lead him across the gravel. The house is just as nice as his cottage, crested by a small pond behind the tall porch. You climb the steps and go to the front door, a lock box hooked around the handle. He gives you the code but it declines. He tells you to flip the last two numbers and it unlocks. 

You take out the key and let yourself in. You stay by the door, holding onto it as he angles through with the luggage. He groans as he puts it all down and kicks off his dock shoes. You look down and slip out of your slides. Your feet are filthy from running all around. 

“I think there’s a shower upstairs, a couple of rooms. I can drop your bag in one while you get washed up,” he offers. 

“You know what, think I can figure it out,” you snatch up your duffel and hike it onto your arm. 

“Right, you go first, I’ll go after,” he shrugs, “I gotta make a few calls. Jacob’s mom has been blowing me up.” 

“Okay,” you say just to say something. You can’t think about his problems too. Call you selfish but you just can’t handle anything else. 

“Not your problem,” he says, “go, I’ll hold down the fort.” 

He as good as shoos you away and you’re all too happy to take the out. You tramp upstairs and peer around. You find the bathroom first and toss your bag in the room next to it. You take out a fresh pair of pajamas, you only brought two sets, and search out the linen closet for a towel. You feel like an intruder but you’re too worn out to care. 

You dip into the show and pull the door shut. God, the water is good. You could fall asleep standing up. You make quick work of scouring your body to avoid just that and dry off on the bath mat. 

As you come out of the bathroom, you listen to the house. It’s quiet. Andy must have taken his call outside. Ugh, he’s an adult. He’s proven he can manage a lot more than you. 

You fall into bed, cozy in your fresh shorts and tank top, and hug the pillow as you hook a leg around the duvet. Almost as quickly as you still, you’re out for the count. You drift off into an ocean of colours, swirling and streaming behind your eyelids, spinning you in a cyclone of obscurity. 

You stir as you hear a subtle thud. A cool breeze blows from the floor vent and chills your exposed leg. Your shorts are trapped between your ass, an embarrassing scene if anyone was to see you. You roll over and conceal yourself in a cocoon formed with the fluffy duvet. 

The door’s open... you swore you shut it. You’re so tired, you can’t remember. You don’t bother getting up. You’re too fucking dead.  

You close your eyes and a long groan drones through the wall. The noise makes you rigid. Maybe choosing the room right next to the plumbing isn’t the best idea. You wiggle down further into the bedding as the shower thrums and another deep utterance rolls in. 

You pull the blanket over your ears and try to tune it out. The steady spray can’t block out his grumbling voice. At first, you’re agitated. Why does he need to make so much noise? A shower isn’t that good—wait. 

Your cheeks burn in realisation. He isn’t... he wouldn’t do that. Not right now. You can hear his voice, rhythmic and strained. Wow. Oh god. You cup your hands over your ears and bite down. Talk about embarrassing. 

There’s a slap against the wall and a deep grunt. Jesus. 

You roll your back to the wall and huff. You’re glad he has something to distract himself. You can barely focus on living. 

[penvisions]

once more with feeling {frankie drabble}

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Reader

Warnings: flirting with a stranger, language, kissing, suggestive language

A/N: this was a fun little drabble for the fic title prompt game submitted by the lovely @burntheedges

drabble masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

It started off as a chance encounter at the convenience store. Picking up a prescription and a bag of sour gummy candies. But of course your wallet hadn’t been inside the chaos of your purse. The cards hadn’t been rattling around amid the pens, gum wrappers, scraps of paper with lists, or the lighter that had somehow ended up in there either.

“Shit.”

The cashier rolls her eyes, popping a large bubble she had just blown out from the wad of gum in her mouth. An arched brow her silent judgement.

“I don’t have my wallet.”

“Okay.” She begins to slid the items away before a figure closed in on your right side.

“I’ll cover it,” A deep voice rumbled and you turned to meet a pair of startlingly wide brown eyes. They were set in the face of a handsome man. Your own roved over him, from the patchy scruff lining his jaw, the plush set of lips set under a thick moustache, the curls tamped down and curling around a cap tight over his head, the aviators slung in the collar of his grey t-shirt. But what really stole your breath away was the toothy grin he was flashing at you as he set down the items in his arms and reached to retrieve his worn wallet from a back pocket. “Gummies are an essential, can’t let ya go without them.”

Another bubble popping startled you, making you realize you hadn’t said anything in response. With a chuckle the man was gently corralling you away from the debit machine, a card between his thick fingers. He swiped it, nodding his head to the cashier as she held out two different plastic bags for the man to take.

“Thank you, that was very kind of you-“

“Fransisco, but Frankie is just fine.” He held out a hand, the bag with your items in it. You took it as you walked along side him out the sliding doors. You offered your name along with a thankful smile. All too aware of the large hoodie you had thrown on over a pair of shorts in your rush out the door. You only lived across the street, but of course you would run into a stunning man on your put off and then rushed errand.

“No problem at all.” He didn’t move toward the parking lot and neither did you, both rooted close enough to catch the scent of each other’s perfume and cologne. You could feel his eyes watch you as you tore into the bag of gummies, twin cherries. You held the open bag out to him as you brough one up to your lips. He smirked as he brought one to his own mouth.

“Cherries, that your thing? Cause you smell like ‘em and I bet you taste like ‘em too, now.” An eyebrow raised, though it was anything but a judgment like it had been on the cashier’s face. It was a flirty challenge and you couldn’t help the pull of your lips to match his energy.

“I dunno, why don’t you find out?” You swallowed, the candy sweet on your tongue and tangy. Your breath hitched, betraying your nerves as he reached a hand out to gently hold the back of your head and pull you toward him. His lips were plush against yours, so soft and faintly flavored from the candy. He didn’t try to push it past a chaste connection, pulling back after a few seconds.

“Mmm, seems like I need to do a little more research.”

“Seems like you do.” The flimsy handles of the bag slid down to the crook of your elbow as you reached up to cup his face. Leaning in, you kisses him with more intention. Allowing for him to lick into your mouth, licking the flavor from you as if he was starving and it was hist first taste of food in a long while.

You hummed, pulling him closer to feel the front of his body pressed up against your own, his hands going around the small of your back. Pleasure pooled in your middle, lighting you up as you stood in front of the convenient store and shared kisses with a beautiful stranger.

Sharing a breath, his fingers twitched around you as your lashes fluttered. His eyes were already watching when you opened them back up.

“Cherries were always my favorite.” He kissed you again and somehow you knew it would lead to a cherry frosted cake and the sharing of vows.

[eightstarr]

i know — van palmer.

summary: you can't remember a life before van, but there was one. there must've been one. it feels ridiculous to think about. you'd rather think about her, rather think about this— two moments then, and two moments now (and so, so many to come).

notes: heyyy i know i said i would post this like a month ago, i fully forgot!! if there was like one person waiting i'm sorry and i love you sm <3 also this ignores the plot entirely and i wanna make that very clear just in case!! it's like a nothing happened and we're all okay au! anyway here's to my loser girl and to whoever also finds themselves staring at the wall in silence thinking about her :)

・。.・゜✧・. ────

THEN.

"You're hogging the blanket," Jackie mutters over a mouthful of popcorn, purple polished nails tugging at the soft fabric.

She's right— you are. "I'm not," you say, and bring your legs close to your chest partly so they can offer some kind of comfort, but mostly so they're not touching the unknown dangers of the floor anymore.

The TV flashes red and Jackie's living room is bathed in it, along with all your faces.

Shauna snorts at a man getting brutally and very unrealistically decapitated on the screen and pulls her own blanket closer to her best friend before she even has to ask. They do that a lot; talk without words. Any other time you would've noticed, thought that's cute and smiled to yourself, but right now you're too terrified.

The movie is bad. Or, that's what you have to keep reminding yourself of. It's lazy in a way that's bordering on comical and needlessly violent in a way that proves that it was written by a man with interesting fantasies. You shouldn't be scared, but you are.

Another death earns you a few minutes of quiet, though you know the build up to the next one will be worse. The characters cry and fret over the dead body of their friend but the killer is nowhere to be seen, disappearing conveniently into the night. You're granted a scene of daylight but the sun comes and goes, and then the screen turns to dark violets and blues again and you're tensing up in your seat.

It's fine, at first— the pretty blonde girl is yielding a kitchen knife and walking around while her muscled boyfriend boards up the windows of the big house. Lottie shifts where she's sitting on the floor next to Laura Lee's legs and whispers about why they would lock themselves in instead of taking their chances outside, which is 'obviously the smartest thing to do'. You don't have time to process what she's saying because suddenly an ax is clawing its way through one of the windows and the characters are screaming and, well, so are you.

"Fuck!" You curse, jumping and landing yourself halfway into Van's lap, the softness of her thighs under your own, your back against her chest.

Van blinks, more startled by your reaction than the scene itself, her hands coming up to steady you and then immediately dropping back down a second after they brush over the cotton of your shirt. She lets out a shaky breath and does not think about how good your weight feels on top of her, because that would be a bad thought, a questionable thought. And it should not have been the first one to pop into her mind. Definitely not. That would be embarrassing. That would be bad.

You cover your eyes with one hand as the sounds of screaming come to a crescendo and hold one of her hands tightly with the other, mumbling sorry, sorry, sorry as if you're doing something wrong. As if you don't know that, even if you were, Van is incapable of being mad at you. Famously so. Everybody knows.

She looks around the room to the rest of the girls. No one is staring, too busy chewing popcorn and wrinkling their noses at the more gruesome special effects. Van turns her head back to you. A million thoughts rush in, overwhelming and unforgiving. Something about the soft tint of chapstick on your lips, the curve of your nose, the shape of your fingers. Things she's noticed before -Van is often greedy of all your details-, but not in this way, never from this close. She can smell your shampoo from here. Somewhere in the back of her mind, over the scent of honey and strawberries, she wonders if she's going insane.

Your body noticeably relaxes as the violence dissipates, your grasp on her hand loosening slightly. When you uncover your eyes, the final girl is clawing her way through the woods. You're unsure of how she got out of the house, but too comforted by the thought of the movie finally coming to an end to care.

Van is scared to say anything, scared to move— if she does, you might push yourself off of her, ignore her for the rest of the night because you're embarrassed. The thought is ridiculous. You'd never ignore her, you're not that kind of person, but it's what she would do. Except she'd probably never be in this position in the first place, because she'd never be brave enough to throw herself on your lap, even if she was as scared as you were. And that's just it anyway, it's not like you chose to do this. You didn't pick her. You would've found the same comfort in anyone's arms. Right? Van feels you shift closer, just slightly, like you're unaware of it. Right?

Her forehead falls on your shoulder as she thinks herself sick.

"It's scary, right?" You whisper, confusing her crisis for fear. Your fingers wrap around her bicep, soft and absentminded when they brush up and down her skin, trying to make her feel better.

Van feels her stomach flip, her hands twitch. In another world, she would wrap her arms around your waist and press her lips to your ear, mumble something stupid like if you say so, baby just to annoy you. Here, though, all she does is nod her head. She whispers back, "Yeah, it is."

She looks up at the screen, tries to be scared, to be invested. You relax further into her, personal and comfortable as if there's no one in the room but the two of you. Van blinks. She can't give you the name of the girl on the screen. A minute passes and your back straightens suddenly, but you don't rush to slide off her lap. You do it carefully, not because you want to but because you're worried about making her uncomfortable. Van wants to pull you back but she's never faced anything as daunting. She comforts herself with the thought that one day she will, a hungry attempt at manifesting or breaking a mental wishbone or something. For now, she follows you with her eyes and feels her anxiety melt away when you notice her staring and give her a smile. The movie's not yet over. She looks back. Who's the bad guy again?

─────✧･ﾟ: *✧･

NOW.

Van likes to pretend that she's a better cook than she is. Someone else might find it funny, annoying even, but you can't find it anything but cute. You love telling her that you've run out of food and watch her scoff and puff up her chest.

"I'll make you something out of nothing," she'll say. Then she'll open the fridge and bend at the waist, stare at said nothing for a solid two minutes before resurfacing and declaring that she's craving pizza from the place down the street, anyway, so there's no point in cooking.

At the grocery store the next day, you make sure to buy the essentials for the one pasta recipe that she does actually know how to make. Van likes to feel useful. And you like to indulge her every need, maybe a little too much.

You pick the sweetest looking tomatoes for the sauce, no real expertise behind your method— you're not exactly an amazing chef, either, but the two of you do just fine. Someone calls your name in the middle of bagging the last tomato and you turn to meet a face you had almost forgotten about.

"Katie Lopez?" Van asks again, staring at the folded piece of paper with the almost-stranger's number that you'd gotten without asking (a friendly gesture, you're pretty sure) after a slightly lengthy conversation that carried on even after your multiple anyway, I should probably get going's.

You're telling Van about the encounter while washing the tomatoes in the sink, sleeves rolled up. Your cheeks are warm with kisses like they always are when you make it back to her, as if she wants to reward you for it. You've been hers for so long, and she's still amazed at the fact that you come home to her. "Yes," you repeat. "Why is that so shocking?"

"It's not," she says, flicking the paper where it sits on the counter, kinder than her original need to ball it up or light it on fire or something even more dramatic. She moves to open the cabinet and starts putting away the canned goods you've brought. "I just didn't know you guys were close."

"We're not. She was just being polite."

Van hums. For a moment you think she'll let it go, but of course she won't. She doesn't like the thought of someone flirting with you when she's not there and she especially doesn't like the thought of that someone being Katie fucking Lopez, who's most memorable for fingering girls in the bathroom for most of your shared high school experience.

Van clears her throat and the cabinet closes with a thud louder than she intended, definitely not because she was caught up picturing you under Katie's gaze. She means to sound casual, but she's not trying very hard when she asks, "She ever try to get with you?"

You spare her a single glance, as if to check that she's serious. Of course she is. "What, in high school?" You shake your head, chuckling like the idea is funny. "No. She was more into the cheerleader type."

Van knows that you're right. Still, she squints her eyes at you, ginger hair leaning to one side when she tilts her head. "Is that a hint of resentment that I'm hearing?"

You've gotten good at knowing how to handle her jealousy. It's only fair, considering that she's gotten good at handling yours. Neither are ever that serious. "I was making a neutral observation."

You know she's creeping closer before you feel it. You know her too well. "Yeah?" She mutters, her hands on your hips as she presses herself to your back. Her nose is familiarly cold where it brushes against your neck.

You dry your hands and lean back on instinct, and she doesn't flinch at the added feeling of your weight. Van can be a lot like a brick wall, but you don't usually tell her that, unless you're feeling extra sweet and want her to grin like a cocky little shit for the rest of the day. "You were into that type, too."

Van scoffs, a soft gust of air on your neck. "I was into you," she says.

You hum, purely fucking with her. "Maybe."

"May— what the fuck are you talking about?" She pulls away just enough to prove that she's actually offended. And she is, because the idea is ludicrous and yeah, she's taking it personally. You can question Van about anything you want, except for the fact that she's been in love with you for more than half of her life. "When did you ever see me looking at cheerleaders?" She asks.

You and Van work for a lot of reasons. You work because you're different where it matters, enough to balance each other out, and you work because you're the same in everything else. You might've been just teasing her at first, but now the thought does that stupid thing where it starts to linger and -just like she had thought about you and Katie- you can almost picture it in your head, a younger Van standing on the soccer field, her eyes trailing over a girl's short uniform skirt. You roll your eyes, annoyed mostly at yourself. "Oh, don't act like you wouldn't have loved for them to shout your stupid name."

Van chuckles. She can read your train of thought like a book. She knows you too well. "Stupid name, huh? You're cute when you're jealous." And a little mean, too, but in a way that makes her weak in the knees. She won't be telling you that part. You already know, anyway.

You pull the hands that are wrapped around your waist away from you. Van lets you— she wants to see where this is going. "Not jealous," you mutter.

"No?" She teases, half-heartedly disappointed when you don't turn around to let her kiss you.

You look at her over your shoulder and then make eye contact with the piece of paper on the counter, recalling the words of your old classmate. Call me whenever. We should totally hang out. You're too old to be telling people you should 'totally hang out', but Katie Lopez hasn't changed much from the last time you saw her. You hold back the urge to wrinkle your nose at the memory of that same teenager-trying-to-be-cool smirk that she gave you throughout the whole interaction and hum thoughtfully, like you've been tempted. "Maybe I will call her—" you take one step towards the counter in a half assed attempt to reach for the paper but Van is unusually quick as she strides forward and takes it in her hands, tongue poking into the inside of her cheek as she rips it in two. "Van!" You gasp.

"What? Don't tell me you were actually gonna use it," she pouts. "You're breaking my heart, baby."

You try to take the two pieces away from her and all you earn is her breaking it in four, holding it above your head. You're laughing as you slap her shoulder. "God, you're so stupid."

Van raises her eyebrows, mismatched numbers wrinkled in her hand. She drops them on the counter in favor of cupping your face, pressing a contained short peck to your lips. Don't feel bad, she won't hold back for long. "Stupid like my name?"

"I love your name," you shake your head, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "I love it. Just as long as it's mine to say."

It is yours, but you know that already.

─────✧･ﾟ: *✧･

THEN.

Van's room smells like the incense you got her. You wonder if she used it just to appease you because she knew you were coming, but it's a silly thought. Van likes you. You know this now. She takes everything you give her (your time, your smiles, your kisses) like it's a precious gift, so you can't imagine that she would neglect an actual gift.

Your grandmother said you should light the incense before a game, to bring you good luck and calm your nerves, and you're not ashamed to admit that you bought Van her own pack the very next day. Everything makes you think about her lately, especially this kind of thing. You're not even sure that the incense works, but why wouldn't you share it with her? She deserves all of it— good luck, a stomach free of nerves, at the very least a nice lingering scent if your grandma's beliefs turn out to be a myth. But you hope they don't.

Your girlfriend is anxious more often than you are, but never really about a game. Van knows that she's good at soccer. She's nervous about other things. Keeping her side of the house clean, being able to afford Sinéad O'Connor tickets, what her mom's mood will be like tomorrow, English assignments but only because she thinks the professor is the coolest guy alive and she wants to impress him even if she won't admit it. And lately, there's another thing. She worries about whether you'll look at her one day and realize that you're too good for her.

You know about some of her anxieties, but clearly not all of them. She can picture your reaction if she were to share the last one with you, how your face would scrunch up and you'd look at her with eyes so loving and so sad. She can almost hear you ask, soft and patient, why would you think that? And she wouldn't know what to say. There's comfort in the fact that the worry is there, but it's not constant. Van only worries about that when you're gone. When you're in front of her, or sitting next to her in class, or talking to her on the phone, it's hard to imagine that you'll ever stop liking her. She takes in your smile, your laughter, your sparkling eyes and she can't think about anything else. You make all of it go away. If you asked her, she would tell you that she thinks the incense works, but only because it came from you.

She can smell it faintly from where she is now, but there are a hundred other things overwhelming her more— the feeling of your legs on either side of her, the sound of your bracelets clinking together when you move your arms to rest them next to her head and cage her in, the sight of you leaning in to kiss her. It's easy to say, she's only been dating you for three months, but Van is sure that she will never get tired of this.

She hums against your lips, something too close to a moan. Her cheeks are red when you pull away, and you're not sure if it was the sound she made or the regretful, kind of embarrassing thing she has to tell you that gave her that reaction. "My mom will be home in, like, five minutes," she says, raspy and breathy.

Her voice distracts you. Your lips are tingling. "Okay," you say, nodding your head even though it takes you another three seconds to actually process what she said.

This is where you sit up, break apart. Neither of you move.

You smile and lean back down to kiss her again, stomach fluttering from the sound of her giggling as you tilt your head back. How are you supposed to stop when she's so fucking— so cute, so handsome, so in love with you. You've never felt so secure of another person's feelings for you before, but it's impossible to doubt Van. She makes you confident, makes sure that you know at all times. Might as well be saying I love you, I love you, I love you between each kiss that she pulls you back into.

It takes everything in you to break away from her, but you have to. "Fuck, okay. I gotta go," you mutter. You have to. You'll see her tomorrow. It should be embarrassing how greedy she makes you.

She watches as you sit up on her lap, your skirt bunched up over the crotch of her jeans. You must notice her looking, because you're laughing like you can read her mind when she huffs and covers her face with her arms, her lips pursed as she suppresses an even more embarrassing sound than the one she made before.

"I'll see you tomorrow," you insist, like saying it outloud will make leaving easier. You stand up and brush your hands over your hair, flattening the flyaways. Then you grab your backpack from the floor (don't think about the pretty pin she got you a few days ago, because it'll make you want to kiss her again) and walk over to her window.

You could take your chances with the front door, but you don't want to. Van was afraid that her neighbors would see you and innocently mention it to her mom, say something like oh, I saw that Vanessa's friend came by the other day. Van wishes it could be left at that, but her mom is rarely that simple. She looked so worried as she told you about it, so ashamed. You kissed her cheek and promised yourself you'd get good at climbing.

She comes closer as you climb to the other side, getting your footing on the familiar edge of the wall, and she hisses when you let go of the window railing to reach over and cup her face. You don't have to pull for her to bend down and let you kiss her, your thumbs brushing over her cheeks.

"Please don't fall," she's saying as you make your way down.

You look up at her and smile, and Van thinks you're so pretty that she misses the mischievousness behind it. "Have a little faith in me— oh, fuck!"

Van flinches, bumping her head on the window with how quick she moves to look down at you. The sound of your laughter makes her realize your hands never left their safe grip. Her shoulders relax. "Oh my God, fuck you," she scoffs, though she's too relieved for it to have any real bite.

"What were you even gonna do?" You ask, still giggling.

She shrugs, eyebrows furrowed. "I don't know, fucking— grab you or something."

"Your arms are too short to reach me from up there."

"I take offense to that."

"Well, I'm sorry," you sigh, tilting your head. "Doesn't make it any less true."

"I better not hear you asking for my short arms to carry you after practice tomorrow," Van huffs, said arms now crossed over her chest.

You look up at her in disbelief, raising your eyebrows. "I have literally never asked you for that, you always offer."

She shifts slightly where she stands, moves her weight from one leg to the other, caught. "Because I can do it," she mutters.

"Yes, I know. You're very strong, baby."

Van rolls her eyes, choosing to believe that you're teasing her because if she believes that you're being genuine she might die.

Your feet hit the ground with a thud. You do a silly curtsy, as if to say ta-da! and Van thinks you're so cute she's certain that she'll die. You give her one last grin and blow her a kiss before sneaking away from her house into the night.

Van goes to bed with her cheeks aching from smiling, her bed smelling of your perfume, and the faint sound of her brain screaming (terrified, celebrating) you are fucked!

─────✧･ﾟ: *✧･

NOW.

"I wish I'd asked you to prom," your voice is muffled by her sweatshirt, lips partly pressed against her shoulder.

Van snorts, looking down at you. "What?"

"You never went," you explain, and you have that look on your face, like you've been thinking about this for weeks. Like you could cry. Van presses pause on the (admittedly) shitty action film she'd chosen and lets you try to get your thoughts out. "I really wanted you there. You would've liked it."

She lets out a sigh through her nose, a hand coming to rest against your cheek. "I really don't know if that's true, honey," she says honestly.

You straighten your back a little, a tiny frown on your face like you get when you've been challenged. "You would've liked it. You love to dance and the DJ was, like, surprisingly good. And Ms. Dawson actually said yes to a dance with Peter K., even though that was highly inappropriate now that I think about it. But it was funny at the time— and Natalie snuck in a bottle of vodka."

"Yeah?" She asks, awfully endeared even when she's heard the story a million times before. You'd told her all about it the day after prom, your voice groggy and sleepy over the phone. She had felt lame about having missed it, but a thousand times better as soon as she picked up the phone, giggling in her bed like a fool at every detail you gave her.

You wrap your fingers around the hand on your cheek, press a kiss against her palm. "You would've loved it," you say, sounding somehow more convinced than before. "I should've asked you."

"It's okay."

"No, it's not. I was a dick," you insist. "I was a coward—"

"Hey, no. No," Van sits up from her lazy posture, two thin wrinkles between her eyebrows when she frowns. They look good on her. You remember when they weren't there, and it always makes you a little emotional. "Don't say that. You weren't."

"But I was," you try to reason, stubborn to a fault. "I'm not, like, condemning myself. I'm stating a fact."

Her frown deepens. "Well, I don't like it. And I don't think it's a fact."

You didn't mean for this to turn into an argument, but you're not exactly thinking about that at the moment. It happens— you've let the thought saturate in your brain for too long and now you're stuck thinking that you're right. "Why are you arguing with me right now?" You ask, not being petty but genuinely wanting to know.

Van huffs a frustrated breath. "Because I thought about asking you to prom for years, okay?" She says, crawling with embarrassment. "I told myself I would over and over again and then I fucking didn't. If you were a coward, what does that make me?"

You pause, guilt swirling in your stomach because you realize all at once that you've been poking on a tender bruise you didn't even know existed. "Van," you say softly, "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

She sighs, almost a chuckle. She can be so mean to herself, so condescending about her own feelings. You know she's not laughing at you, or disregarding you in any way— it's just what she does when she feels like she's humiliated herself. Especially when you're there to watch, looking at her so kindly when she's certain she deserves none of it. "Yeah, well. That was intentional," she mutters.

You let her look away from you for a moment before you push yourself onto your knees, placing one on each side of her hips. She welcomes you like she always does when you come to sit on her lap now, her hands on your waist and her face falling forward to press kisses over your collarbone. A thoughtless motion, automatic.

"Sweet girl," you hum, guiding her head up with a careful hand, smiling when you meet her eyes. "We should've gone out dancing alone. Would've been way more fun."

Van breathes out a laugh. She wonders if she'll cry, and feels like she could. "Yeah," she agrees.

"I would've said yes, you know. I'm not blaming you for not asking me, I get why you didn't. I really do. But it's important to me that you know that." You brush a strand of hair behind her ear. It's pretty, and getting long. In no time she'll be asking you to wash it over the sink and trim it with your fancy hair scissors, like you've been doing since you got back together when you were twenty five after a stupid argument that led to a two years long break. It wasn't a good time for either of you, but you don't regret it. You have the rest of your life to live with her. Still, there will always be things like this— arguments about deep buried shame, fears that might never go away, moments you missed that other high school sweethearts didn't because their worries weren't like yours. It's sad, but not inescapable all the time. You and Van don't blame each other for any of it. But sometimes you need to be reminded of that.

"I know," she nods, her voice in that soft, quiet tone that you love but rarely get with how passionate she is. It's not a hardship, you love that just as much. "I think maybe that's why— why I was so freaked out. Like, if you said yes, it would become real."

You nod and chuckle a little, sweet and airy. "And you'd have to actually start to date me? Yeah, I would be scared," you joke.

Van buries her face in your chest with a groan. "That's all I fucking wanted," she says, feeling too honest to play along like she usually would.

You let her stay there for a while, her nose brushing against the rise and fall of your chest. Wanna be here forever, she'd told you once, with cold fingers sneaking under your shirt, more than a little drunk. You have been making fun of her about it for ages, but it tugs at something different today. It makes you pull her softly with a hand on the back of her neck, just enough to press your lips against hers, not wanting to deny her any of your warmth that she might crave.

Van hums against your lips, moving where you want her when your hands guide her own from your waist down to your hips. You press your chest against hers like you know she likes and she moans into your mouth, a hand moving to press against your back and force you closer.

"I'm sorry I didn't ask you," you mumble when she lets you pull apart, speaking close to her ear as you kiss her cheek, lips soft over old acne scars and sunspots.

Van shakes her head. "I don't care," she promises, smiling like she does when she's about to say something corny. "Look at me now," she shrugs, fake humble. "I got the girl in the end."

You laugh against her smirk and kiss her until she's lifting your hips and pushing you down on the couch, your back against the worn pillows, a hand on the back of your head in case you bump it on the arm rest. You like when she moves you around just to show off, reminds you of when you were younger and she'd flex her muscles just because she knew you were looking. She might not be the same type of strong now, but she can still pull out some tricks when she wants to. And with you, Van often wants to.

She tilts her head back when you try to pull her in for another kiss, sighing as she gets comfortable on top of you. She almost gives up the act when you pout at her, blinking your pretty eyes, but instead she leans her weight on one hand next to your head and says, "That is, of course, if she doesn't leave me for Katie Lopez's magic fingers."

Van expects you to roll your eyes, slap her shoulder so she can say ouch! and dramatically rest her hand over the wounded spot. Instead, you slide your hand over hers where it's resting against your hip, intertwining your fingers together and smiling pretty, tilting your head. "Mmh, but I have the best fingers right here."

Van scoffs, playing amused rather than speechless because she's trying not to show you how much your words get to her. It's embarrassing how proud it makes her, how quickly she melts into the palm of your hand when you as much as imply that she's good at something, that you would pick her over everyone else, that you want her like she wants you. Praise from others makes her smile and say thank you, but praise from you reaches her core, makes her dizzy. Her lips feel dry and her tongue pokes out absentmindedly to lick them as you guide her hand up. Van barely registers the movement, too busy watching your face— how beautiful that she gets to see it all the time now, that she knows all the details like you know hers.

Her fingertips come to rest against your lips and her breath stutters as she tries desperately to maintain any sense of coolness or dignity or fucking something while you kiss each one, soft and attentive. She's thinking, is she insane for finding it as thrilling as she does, even after all these years? Do you know what you do to her? You can't possibly know, Van almost decides, but then you part your lips to slide two of her fingers into your mouth and she thinks that you do. You definitely know.

"F—fuck," she breathes out, and tries to remember her original plan to tease you but can't recall your old classmate's name. "You trying to butter me up?" She asks, her chuckle trembling but deep, from the back of her throat.

Her fingers slip from your mouth with a soft pop, and Van groans. You hum, "Is it working?"

You're mean, evil. You're the sweetest thing she's ever seen. Two things can be true at once. You're a dream, and you're not like this for anyone else. The thought echoes through her skull, warm and infectious. Van smirks. "Yeah."

[ofstarsandvibranium]

To Have & To Hold: Part 6

Fandom: Marvel - Moon Knight (Mafia AU)

Pairing: Marc Spector x F!Reader, Steven Grant x F!Reader, Jake Lockley x F!Reader

Summary: To ensure you’re always safe even after his passing, your father, a mob boss, makes you marry his right hand, Marc Spector. You don’t necessarily hate Marc, but you don’t get along either. Therefore, this marriage of convenience may be a bit difficult for you.

Series Masterlist

Nope. No. Hate this. You hate this so much. Your head feels like it ways more than your body. You groan as you slowly open your eyes.

"Welcome to the land of the living," you hear an all too familiar voice.

When you look to your right, you see Marc sitting on your bed, back resting against your headboard.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" you rasp out.

Marc smirks down at yo, "Good morning to you too, sunshine." He holds out water and some pills.

You groan as you sit up, pop the pills into your mouth and glug down the water. You wipe your mouth and hand the glass back to him, "You didn't answer my question."

"You had too many tequila shots. Yelena let me take you home and I stayed over just in case you might choke on your own vomit. Can't have you dying on me just yet."

You snort and lower yourself down again, "Gee, such a loving fiance."

Marc hums and slides off your bed, "You gonna be okay now?"

You wave him off, "Yeah. I'll be fine. Thanks," you grumble, pulling your duvet over you and snuggling into your bed. You'll just be in your blanket burrito for the day.

"Your dad said he wanted to have lunch with you today. Should I tell him you're not feeling well?"

You nod and respond, "Yes, please."

Marc chuckles, "Alright. Get some rest, Y/N." You throw up a thumbs up and Marc exits your room. You listen as he exits your house, the sound of his car driving off.

Your eyes flutter back closed as you go back to sleep.

_______________

It's late, but you really needed to get groceries. After sleeping the day away, you only had boxed macaroni and cheese to eat. You know you could've waited until tomorrow to go grocery shopping, but you'll be up for a while. Might as well get something done.

So now you're at a small 24 hour grocery mart. You grab a cart and begin going down each aisle, getting what you need.

Eggs, milk, cheese, coffee crea-Marc?

You're staring up at someone who looks exactly like Marc but isn't dressed like him.

"Marc?"

Without saying another word, the man runs the other direction and you're confused. You leave your cart and run after him, "Wait! Marc!" he turns into an aisle and you go the other way, immediately stopping him in his escape.

He gulps and gives an awkward wave, "Hello." Why does he have an accent?

"You're not Marc."

"Um, no. I'm Steven," the man says nervously.

"Are you Marc's twin or something?"

"Or something is more like it, yeah," Steven responds.

You pull out your phone and immediately dial Marc's number. A few seconds and suddenly there's a buzzing. Steven pulls out his, or, Marc's phone. You look at it to see your name staring back at you.

You end the call and look at him cautiously, "What the fuck is going on?"

Steven groans, rubbing his forehead and looking frustrated, "It's-I wouldn't say complicated, but I suppose it is. "

"Are you Marc Spector? Yes or no."

"Yes and no."

You throw your arms up in confusion, "What does that even mean?!"

Steven sighs, running a hand down his face, "Listen, I think we should have this conversation somewhere else. You can finish your shopping and we can go back to yours and I'll explain everything. I'll even stay with you so you know I won't run, yeah?"

You narrow your eyes at him, "Fine."

You quickly go around getting the last bit of things you need. You nod to the hand basket Steven was carrying, "I'll get yours too."

He shakes his head profusely, "Oh no. That's not nec-"

You pluck the basket from him and set his things onto the conveyor belt with your things, "Bag these ones separately, please."

"Sure," grumbles the cashier who looks like they'd like to be anywhere but here.

After paying, you two head to the car, putting your groceries in your trunk. The drive to your home was quiet, but you could feel the anxiety rolling off Steven.

He remains quiet until you two are inside and you're putting your groceries away, "I have DID!" he blurts out.

The statement makes you pause from putting the eggs away, "Dissociative Identity Disorder?"

He nods, he sits at the high top chair at your island counter, "Yeah, um, had it for a while."

You slowly nod, "Okay. So...is it just you and Marc or are there other..." you're not sure of the term. You know the term "personalities" is out dated.

"Alters. Other alters. There's three of us. Me, Marc, and Jake, who you probably won't see often. It's mainly Marc and I."

You finish putting your groceries away, processing the info you've just been told. You turn back to Steven and rest your elbows on the counter top, "How come I'm just meeting you now? You've worked for my father for years. Wait, does he know about this?"

"Trust me, we've had a few slip ups, that's actually how your dad found out about us. Put us in quite a predicament, but he still kept us on. Said as long as Marc could 'still get the job done'," he says the last bit with distaste.

You snort, "Not a fan of what Marc does?"

"I'm a pacifist. Would rather fight with words than fists. Ironic innit?"

You chuckle, "A little bit," you straighten up, "Do you want anything to drink?"

"Tea, if you have any?" you nod, turning your kettle on. You grab a mug and then a tea bag, placing it into the mug.

You look over your shoulder at Steven, "So do you only show up at night?"

"Sometimes. Believe it or not, but I used to be the one fronting more. Marc didn't really like the life we were living, I guess, so he took over. He is the host, after all," he looks crestfallen, "I miss having a normal life. No offense, but I'm not fond of what Marc and your dad get up to."

You sigh, "Trust me, I don't like it either. But, unfortunately, I was born into this life. I can't really escape it either. Guess we just have to make the best of things," you reach over and rest your hand on Marc's.

He gives you a nod, "Yeah. I mean, we're in this together now. Guess it won't be all bad with Marc marrying you."

A lightbulb went off in your head. Since Marc wasn't here per se, you take this opportunity to talk to about him, "Actually, I have a question regarding Marc."

"Alright."

"Does he even like me? I mean he said he cares about me, but I don't know if he's saying that just to appease me and my dad or what."

Steven knows that if he told you the truth, of how Marc truly feels about you, Marc would definitely kick his ass. So he'd go for half truths, "He cares for you, genuinely. He definitely understands how hard this must be on you, it's hard on him too for lots of other reasons I won't discuss because that's for him to tell ya. But he does like you, Y/N."

You let out a sigh, "That's-That's really great to hear. I was-I just didn't know-"

Steven puts his other hand on top of yours and pats it, "I know. I get ya. It's a right pickle you two are in, huh?"

You snort, "Understatement of the century." You pull back and straighten up, "Let me make your tea."

"Alright."

You turn around, taking the kettle and pouring the hot water into the mug, "Do you want cream and sugar?" Steven doesn't answer, "Steven?" you call his name and when you glance over your shoulder, he's staring ahead with a blank expression.

You fully turn and go over to him, "Steven?" you place a hand on his shoulder and he immediately grabs it.

Your eyes widen and he's looking up at you. He blinks and he looks confused, "Wha-Y/N?" It's Marc. He looks around and takes in his surroundings. He then shook his head, "Dammit, Steven."

"Don't blame him. We ran into each other at the store. He came home with me to explain everything."

Marc groans, running a hand down his face, "I told him I don't want him going out-"

"He was getting some groceries. Give him a break. He's trying to take care of you."

Marc is twiddling with his thumbs, his head hanging down, "I was gonna tell you...eventually."

You nod, "I know," you sigh, "You can stay here for the rest of the night, by the way."

"I shouldn't-"

"Marc, it's fine. You look tired and, honestly, I don't want to go back out. So rest. You can take my bed since I'll still be up for...who knows how long."

"Did you wake up at all during the day?"

You snort, "Here and there, to use the bathroom, or drink some water. Other than that, I've mainly slept the day away. And voila, the consequences of my actions, staying up for the rest of the night." you gesture him to follow you and he does.

You enter your bedroom, "You obviously been here before. So go ahead. Rest up," you turn to leave but he grabs you by the wrist.

"Can you stay? Just-Just until I fall back asleep?" he asks and he seems a bit ashamed for asking.

"Sure," you get into bed first and Marc follows you. You're not sure why but your rest your head on his chest. His arm wraps around you and with his other arm he reaches and turns off the lamp on your bedside.

You lay there in silence until you hear him snoring. You can't help but enjoy the feeling of laying beside him.

[leavingsunsets]

because im bored and going insane, have a little drabble because im going insane. ALSO THIS IS KINDA A CRACKFIC???? you and alastor be silly together. does a cutoff 'kys' count as a warning?

"𝔅𝔬𝔬𝔪 𝔅𝔬𝔬𝔪 𝔓𝔬𝔴."

[𝖠𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋 & 𝗀𝗇!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋]

"I'm back!"

The slam of the hotel doors echo throughout the lobby, an empty one. To which you only notice after a few steps in, swinging the one plastic bags branded '8-11' in your one hand.

"Uh, Husk, where'd all the others go?" You call out, putting them down on the coffee table. "Husk?"

No response. It's also now that you notice the bar was empty. Huh. Where did everyone go?

...

They went out for another redemption activity or something?

(This was the time Cherri took them out to the club. They're out there being judged by the holy court while you were busy sneaking out to raid the convenience store.)

"Gah, whatever. More for me."

You scoop up the bags and bring 'em over to the kitchen, where your chef (the microwave) awaited. Unaware of the red creeping figure by the second floor balcony.

Now, with your multitude of food splayed on the kitchen island, you tap your fingers over each one of them.

"Hmm. A burger or mac' n' cheese... Hmm."

With a shrug, you pop both open and throw it in the microwave, the radiation machine whirring to life as you lean back.

The peace is only broken once a sudden buzz of radio fills the silence.

"Wow. What is this?"

You nearly land on your own ass at his presence, head snapping to look behind you. "!?! WHAT THE HELL?!"

The sight of Alastor happily humming as he rummages through your other bag is what greets you, much to your horror.

"The f- Don't touch that!" you hurriedly snatch the bag away from him, hugging the bulky thing to your chest. "Why're you even here?? I thought you were gone with the others!"

"Eh, some Cherri girl, and a hefty pay," he shrugs, leaning on his cane. "What's that you're heating?"

Putting aside your bag, you squint your eyes at him for a moment. "My dinner."

He stares, raising a brow, "..which is?"

"Mac n' cheese," you grumble, already expecting some kind of reaction from the Louisianian.

"Eugh," yup, there it is, "you call that dinner? Goodness." You sigh, crossing your arms and facing the microwave once more. You weren't in the mood for some kinda wit war with this guy right now.

"Hmph. Back to the search." With a snap, he teleports your bag back to him, already digging through it before you can protest.

"HEY!" you reach out to snatch it back again, only for him to swerve it away. He daintily brings out a blue and red pin between his pointed fingers. Your eyes go wide at it.

"Who's this clown-" he disintegrates right as you lunge across the counter. Reappearing after you land face first on the floor, he continues, "this is the first time I've seen a neon jester of all things."

Face scarlet, you quickly get up and attempt to grab at him. But of course, what was Alastor if not a little shit, rendering your efforts useless. He disintegrates into the floor just as you reach out, teleporting to the other side of the kitchen island.

"Wow! You have 10 of these!" at this point, he was just pulling out the contents, splaying them on the counter.

"ALASTOR! I AM GOING TO SKIN YOU ALIVE I SWEAR TO-" The words die on your tongue the moment you spot him slide out a neatly sealed envelope, decorated with stickers.

At this moment, you seem to lose all sense of fear, or maybe some sort of sensibility to ground you back in reality. As at this moment, you find yourself charging at the demon 100 kilometers per hour, body ready to take any damage if it meant to stop him from even glimpsing at who the recipient was.

Unfortunately, he already did.

"Oho! To think you were a superfan! Of Fizzarolli nonethele-"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-!"

The microwave beeped in a little musical tune, however, it went unheard as you were busy having a important civilized conversation with the distinguished gentleman with you right now.

He dodges, sadly, disappearing into thin air once more. You basically crash against the counter, upper body smacked against the countertop.

"Ooh, 'Dear, Fizzarolli, I'm your biggest fan! I just wanted to say-' "

Grabbing a pack of frozen croquettes, you fling it at his head, to which a black tentacle sprouts from the ground and smacks away.

You jab a finger at him, face red with humiliation, "YOU'RE AN ABOMINATION TO ORAL HYGIENE." The frozen package flies, knocking the microwave into its plug and jamming it into the socket. A spark.

Right at this moment, Emily hops up to join Charlie in this outcry against the cruel (bi)annual exorcism of heaven, Angel Dust takes a courageous stand against the walking volatile moth himself, and you?

You face your own heavy battle, to which you're not sure will end peacefully. Which is a little generous to say, as he just continues reading the letter despite your insult. You feel a vessel nearly pop at his dismissal.

" '-I started watching your shows just a few months after falling here and-' "

Another packaged burger comes flying at his head. "WHY CAN'T YOU JUST LEAVE ME ALONE, DAMNIT!" you screech, pissed.

"Hmm," for a second, he looks away contemplatively, tapping his chin. Then, it morphs into a smug smirk. "No. This is quite funny to me."

You grit your teeth tightly at his arrogance, veins about to pop, "This. Is why. Nobody. Likes you."

he leans over with a catlike smile, fluttering his lashes as he cutely lays against the kitchen island, kicking his feet slightly. "Awe yew mwad at mwee?"

Maybe it was just your temper, and his audacity, but at this point, you just explode.

"KILL YOURSE-"

And apparently, so did the microwave.

The first thing you feel is the machine's nuclear explosion just to your right, and the splatter of something gooey on your head. You blink.

The mac' n' cheese. You forgot about that.

Alastor remains unfazed and untouched, still lain across the counter and kicking his feet. Red eyes lazily glance at the absolutely blackened charr of a lump in the place of a perfectly functional microwave. "Hmm. Wonder what we're gonna do about that."

You are gonna insane if you have to spend one more minute with this man without strangling him.

[mudskip-drabbles]

Rick x reader I plead of you. (I own over 70% of the ao3 tag its a very lonely place here xc)

i gottcha bro👌

“Odi! I'm-" Yelled into the apartment as you pushed open the door, your declaration was forced to go unfinished as the intended receiver of it barreled into you for a hug, knocking free a giddy laugh from your lips. Meeting it with even a fraction of the same enthusiasm was a bit difficult with your hands full of groceries, but it was made up for with a heavy lean of your body and a kiss to his smiling face. 

“Y/N! You have RETURNED!!!” One might think you'd been away for days with how happy your boyfriend sounded, but in reality you'd only been gone a few hours to run some errands. Still, his enthusiasm was nothing but endearing, filling your chest with that warm, fuzzy feeling, knowing no matter how long you were gone, Odi would always be nothing short of ecstatic when you came back to him. 

“I wasn't gone for that long you know.” A tease as you set down the bags onto the kitchen counter. As soon as one bag was set down, Odi had his nose in it, sifting through its contents as if each item was a prize at the bottom of a crackerjack box. “And I'm even back sooner than what I said I'd be.” A boop to his nose as he emptied one bag across the counter (it being the frozen foods, how convenient seeing as those were always put away first!) and moved on to another, even the most mundane of items lighting him up like a never-ending firework.

“But I missed you!” Why would it matter if you were gone five seconds or five hours? He'd miss you all the same!

“Well, miss no longer, for I have returned.” Though with not as much energy, you met his theatrics with a giggle as yet another bag was emptied. (The refrigerated stuff, just as you finished putting away the frozens too, just like every other time you brought groceries home. You wondered for a moment if he'd planned it that way, or if your movements were just that in sync). “That's what happens when the Big Bad Wizard puts a curse on me. I just can't manage to stay away~.” A light hip-bump as you passed by on your way to the fridge, Odi popping up from the bag like a gopher with a silly little grin. 

“Yes! I am the most evil of wizards! And you are my darling concubine! Together-”

“The world will tremble before our bond of friendship.” You finished for him, not even having to look at him to know he'd lit up even brighter than before. 

The next several minutes went by in relative silence, Odi emptying bags, and you putting things away right behind him. It wasn't until the last bag that the usual pattern broke, you bumping into Odi's back where he stood in the middle of the kitchen while examining something so very intently in his hands. 

“Dearest? What is this…cotton candy? It reminds me very much of Giovanni!” Bright pink in color, you could see where the comparison originated. “Is it food?” That was one thing you'd never tire of, the endless curiosity he had whenever stumbling across something new as he adjusted to land life. It had been months, and it felt that every single day he found something to bring to you like a puppy that had found a ball at the park. 

“Yes! Some places call it by other names; fairy floss, candy floss, daddy's beard,” (He didn't understand your giggle at that one, but he loved its happy chime all the same.) “Most of the time, you find it at stuff like carnivals or fairs, but sometimes stores will carry it too.” You'd only gotten it because you had a feeling Odi would find an interest in it, just by its general appearance, the fact that it was candy, and…

“Here, try a piece!” Popping open the container with a crinkle of cellophane and the pop of the lid, Odi could barely contain himself as you pulled a bit of fluff free and plopped it onto a waiting tongue. Sure enough, it only took a matter of seconds for-

“IT IS GONE!!” You couldn't help but giggle as he stuck out his tongue, it moving this way and that as he tried in vain to look down at where the sweet had just been. “What sorcery is this?! Have you gained powers of disappearing?!” Uh oh, better put a stop to that one right here and now, you didn't want another lav-acid incident.

“No, silly, it's sugar! It’s just what happens when you eat it! See?” Taking another piece, you stuck out your own tongue and just barely touch the treat to it when it started to visibly shrink right before Odi's eyes. 

“AMAZING!!” You knew he wasn't’ talking about you, but you couldn't help but blush all the same. “I wish to try again!” A giggle as you passed over the container, Odi forgoing ripping a piece free in lieu of sticking his tongue right into the mass of fluff. “It did it again!!” And of course he had to show you, the container being turned so you could see a slight hole where slowly crystallizing sugar darkened its edges. “MAGIC!!!”

With a fond laugh as he continued to poke his tongue at the treat, you returned to your previous task of putting the groceries away, up until- 

“If I lick Giovanni's hair, will it disappear as well?” Hm…okay, you'd let this one happen, as a treat to yourself. 

“I dunno! You'll just have to test it out next time we see him.” Note to self, make sure you had your phone handy when the time came so you could get that on video…

As a treat. 

[manias-wordcount]

Hi! Can I get Edward Elric (Fullmetal Alchemist), Tamaki Suoh (OHSHC), and Illumi Zoldyck with a hypermobile fem s/o with knee problems?

Here’s where the insight comes: now, because of my flexible joints, I can do all sorts of weird things. I can twist my arms like 360 degrees or so (sometimes, I hear the joints popping; it doesn’t hurt most of the time, but I do feel a minor squeeze at worst), I can bend my thumb to my forearm (though it hurts somewhat if I hold it too long, but that goes away quickly; for some reason, my left is more flexible than my right), and I’ve been known to be able to touch my shoulder or even my face with my foot if I stretch it enough. Also, my skin is stretchier than most people’s, and it’s to the point where I can kind of cover my thumb in my hand (and it freaks people out). Also, I can do this thing where I turn my hands inward and my elbows poke out (I legit once had a girl come to me saying, “That’s not normal,” bless her heart. I even do what’s called the W position on a daily basis, which is comfortable to sit in but takes a bit to get up from. Conveniently, it allows me to scratch my own back without a backscratcher or even give myself a massage if I want. On the downside, I have a history of kneecap dislocations (I’ve had a total of 4: 3 times in the left kneecap and once in the right, all on separate occasions and it’s been happening since I was 13). As such, I’m best off with low-impact exercises like swimming or cycling because they’re easier on my joints than, say, soccer. Thankfully, I’ve found things like hot baths and basically being in hot water is very soothing for my joints. Also, I remember I was once recommended mustard paste for my kneecaps but I have yet to test it. I don’t know the exact cause of my hypermobility because I haven’t been diagnosed yet but that’s ok.

Note: I don’t know if you write for Meliodas from Seven Deadly Sins or Snake from Black Butler, but if you do, are you ok with adding them too? If not, would another character of your choice from those fandoms be ok?

Hypermobile S/o with knee problems HCs (Edward Elric, Tamaki Suoh, Illumi Zoldyck, Meliodas, Snake)

𝗔/𝗡: 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗴𝗼 !!!!

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

Edward Elric

Out of everyone?

He’s probably the one who knows the most about hypermobility

Though he was extremely surprised the first time he saw it in action

It’s something he definitely read about when doing all kinds of studies about the human body

And when he was just finding out about hypermobility, he was probably surprised at first about just how much more complex it is

Though now that he’s older, he’s prepared to help with any potential problems that may arise for you

However, he’s still Ed

He’ll be the one to help you to the infirmary when your knee dislocates

But you know he’ll panic and he’ll yell about it first before he gains enough sense to get you the help you need

So at least he isn’t totally useless…he’s just Ed!

Tamaki Suoh

10000% will scream “WHAT DID YOU DO TO YOUR BODY” the first time he saw your hypermobility

But don’t worry

A quick dumbed-down explanation (by Haruhi or even Karou) will have Tamaki singing a different tune in a second

In fact, he’d probably start asking if you could do a bunch of tricks

And if you could show it to him too LOL

Out of everyone, it’ll probably be Honey to ask if it ever hurts doing all the things your body is able to do

And the second you mention your knee problems? Oh boy

Tama-chan is going to be all over you

Researching about all the things that could ever go wrong, looking up what he can ever do to help, finding out if there's stuff he can buy you to make things better- the works

But hey! At least he’s supportive!

Illumi Zoldyck

He knows

No need to tell you anything

In fact, knowing him and his family?

It’s entirely possible he knew before YOU did

If you ever do anything to showcase your hypermobility, he won’t comment much on it

He’s just content watching you do your own thing

He will tell you to be careful though

But you don’t have to worry much

The household knows your medical history- all of it

Illumi (and literally anyone on the Zoldyck payroll) are here to assist you if ever the need arises

Meliodas

Genuinely does think it’s cool

But he’ll be super nonchalant about it as he usually is with the weirdest things

Though you know he’ll be bragging about how cool he thinks you are when he gets drunk to the other guys

Of course, it’s probably Gowther that points out how your hypermobility has been the source of a few instances of pain for you

And suddenly it starts to make sense why you’re the first to move far away from a fight

Aside from Hawks after someone gives him a swift kick to belly

And your general avoidance for anything high impact

Naturally, he’s going to start consulting the all-knowing Merlin if there’s anything she can do to help you

And even though it’s disappointing to hear that she currently has nothing in her arsenal, you at least have a very powerful demon now looking out for you in case of a problem!

(…As if you didn’t have that all along LOL)

Snake

As a (former) member of Noah’s Ark circus, you’re not the first person he’s met with hypermobility

Compared to others, finding out about this aspect of your life isn’t so surprising given his upbringing

Though he can’t say he expected it

Something like this isn’t so obvious until it is

Of course, that doesn’t mean he knows anything about it

He’s not the most sociable (or knowledgeable) for that matter

It was through getting close to you and hearing you speak about yourself that he was able to learn about hypermobility and how it affects you in particular

Finding out about your knee problems and your other sources of pain definitely made him a little more protective

Not like he was doing anything that would end up bad for you in the first place but still!

Snake is a good boy at heart! He’ll look out for you <3

[circusgoth-dotcom]

The Love Shack (aka the local convenience store)

Ship: Wade Wilson x Keaton Magnolia

Word Count: 1156

Summary: HUGHJGHGHH THE SILLYYS... sorry writing this fic rotted my brain in a good way. Wade and Keaton make a trip to the convenience store. :0) CWs for themes of insecurity and food mentions. GLITTER ON THE MATTRESSSS GLITTER ON THE HIGHWAYYYY (lyrics) 🕺🕺

Tag List: @futurewife @canongf

Wade had always been eerily astute when it came to reading his boyfriend’s emotions and body language, especially when it seemed like such a hassle for everyone else. So a deep sigh from across the room was more than enough to catch his attention. The two had been sitting on opposite sides of his living room and looking at their respective devices, an activity Wade had only recently learned the name of: Parallel Play.

“What’s up, baby?” He asked, dropping his custom red and black Nintendo DS on his chest. Keaton looked up, clearly having not expected for Wade to take such obvious notice of the sound he had made.

“Oh, er, it’s nothing, don’t worry about it,” Keaton waved his hand dismissively, still half-focused on his phone. Wade heaved himself off of his couch and placed his hand between Keaton’s face and the screen.

"Talk to me. Even if it really is nothing, it was enough to make you sigh like your favourite celebrity turned out to be another asshole, so talk to me."

Keaton’s face burned slightly as he set his phone down. "You're not going to let it be until I talk, are you?"

"Do you really have to ask me that question?" Wade grinned and nudged Keaton over slightly, squeezing into what little space was left on the armchair his husband had been occupying.

"Fine. I want to make a trip to the corner store but it's late and I don't want to bother you by asking you to put on pants and you know how I am about spending money--" Before he could finish, Wade had leaned in, his lips ghosting Keaton’s own and his nose bumping against theirs.

"All you had to say was you wanted some snackies and I would've had my pants on before you had even gotten up. Keke, you know I'll never say no to food, no matter the time, and don't beat yourself up about spending, I am flush with cash. Especially cash for snacks." Wade whispered intensely before closing the minute gap between their lips. "Fuck, I love you."

Keaton blinked, somewhat surprised. "Damn, didn't know such a proposition would get you so hot and bothered or I would've asked earlier."

Wade giggled excitedly and crawled off of him to throw on some pants- for once, without argument. Keaton popped up and threw a Bad Batdz Maru sweatshirt on over his tank top, a gift from Wade when he had taken a contract in Japan.

“God, you’re so cute, I just want to crush you down into a tiny ball and hurl you across the room,” Wade growled happily through gritted teeth as he squeezed Keaton’s cheeks before picking up his keys. “Let’s blow this popsicle stand!”

As soon as they entered the hallway, Wade quickened his pace just enough to goad Keaton into chasing him down the stairs and out onto the street before launching himself onto Wade’s back and transforming into a sloth, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and his legs around his ribs.

“Gotcha!” Keaton announced triumphantly.

“Ohh noo, I’m going to succumb to sloth fever, blehhh,” Wade stuck out his tongue in a mocking performance of dying from a made-up illness, making Keaton chuckle. “Shall I carry you all the way, like a mighty steed?”

Keaton considered this, then slid off of his husband’s back and transformed back into his human self. “Eh, might get some especially weird looks if the humanoid equivalent of an overboiled hotdog is seen carrying a giant sloth on his back, don’t you think?”

“Sounds like your average Canadian New Yorker to me. Also,” Wade then gasped dramatically, “rude!”

The two walked hand-in-hand down the dark street, laughing and talking loud despite it being nearly midnight. They couldn’t care less about the few shouts they heard to shut up, it was those people’s choice to live in the city that “never sleeps!” When they reached the corner store, Wade held open the door for his husband.

“After you, fine sir.”

“Oh, how chivalrous. Don’t let the door hit ya where the good Lord split ya on the way in.” Keaton snickered, winking as he wandered into the linoleum-lined oasis, breathing in the smell of floor wax and the heat from the slushie machine. He went straight for the beverage aisle, debating on what he wanted, while Wade scoped out the chips. Love Shack by The B-52s played on the overhead speakers.

“Sign says, ‘Stay away, fools! ‘Cause love rules, at the Lo-o-ve Shack…’” Keaton mumbled to himself under his breath with a smile as he selected a bottle of Pepsi, moving onto the freezer section and calling over his shoulder, “Wadey, you want any ice cream?”

“Ah-huh?” Wade’s muffled voice came over the shelves, prompting Keaton to look around the corner, where he spied Wade with his entire head under the blue raspberry slushie nozzle, mouth steadily filling with unnaturally blue slush. Keaton snorted, immediately slapping his hand over his mouth.

“Wade! We’re gonna get kicked out!” He hissed through silent laughter. Wade swallowed thickly, flicking off the nozzle and angling his head out from under it, wiping his lips with the back of his hand.

“They can ban the mercenary from the convenience store, but they can’t ban the convenience store from the mercenary,” he stated matter-of-factly, his teeth practically glowing blue. “And yes, of course I want ice cream.”

“That makes… no sense, but moving on, their selection’s kind of shit if I’m going to be honest. You want Chunky Monkey or Moose Tracks?”

“Mmnm… Chunky Monkey, please.”

“You got it, hunky monkey. Also you’ve got some slush on your chin.”

“Come lick it off, then!” Wade called eagerly as Keaton turned his back to him.

“Veronica Sawyer prefers cherry!”

Wade groaned in light annoyance while Keaton smiled to himself and picked up the ice cream; a pint of Chunky Monkey for Wade, and a chocolate drumstick without nuts for himself. Lastly, he slipped into the candy aisle and picked up a classic Herhsey’s bar. He then met Wade at the counter, who placed down a large bag of Takis and two large slushies, one blue and one red. Keaton watched him adoringly as he paid for it all, taking the two plastic bags and handing Keaton the slushies to carry.

“You really are the best partner, Wade,” Keaton praised as they made their way home. Wade blushed and smiled crookedly, his mind flooded with insecurity at the word “best.”

“I don’t know, I wouldn’t say that…”

“Hey, just because I love you doesn’t mean I’m dismissing that you’re still a real asshole sometimes… but I love you. Don’t forget that, okay?”

Wade swallowed, his lip trembling slightly before bumping affectionately against Keaton as they walked.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it… pookiebear.”

The two smiled at each other in the yellow lamplight.

“Can I get a sip of my slushie?”

“Yes, Wade.”

[addicted-to-dc]

I Sound Like an Asshole - (Jason Todd/Red Hood X Reader) Part 4/Final

I am back! (Sort of) once again. My life is shit, but writing makes it better. I hope to stick with this this time and actually finish up all of the series I’ve never finished. I miss writing for you guys. - Iz

Part 1, Part 2 , Part 3

Warnings: angst?? That’s it??

Reluctantly, Jason sits down near the Bat Computer, his mind swirling as he thinks about his universe. Does he have a version of you in his universe? He saw how the other Jay looked at you, held you. Maybe he could have something like that when he’s able to get back to his own universe.

He looks over as Bruce rolled to his side. Despite being from another universe, he could still read him like an open book.

“He really loves (Y/N), doesn’t he?” Jason asks, shifting as his gear dug into his sides.

Bruce nods, placing a hand on his shoulder, “There’s a balance to everything. His order to her chaos. I’m sure that you’ll be able to find your own when you return.”

Jason smiles at that, chuckling, “You always know what to say, old man.” Bruce rolls his eyes and types a few commands into the computer, pulling up the profile of the villain Jason was fighting before he was zapped into this universe. Surprisingly, he looks exactly the same. The tacky outfit, shit eating grin on his face, and that stupid weapon that turned out to be used for interdimensional travel. Good for him.

The keyboard clacks until a profile is pulled up for him. Jason watches as schematics pop up for his weapon. Huh, convenient.

“We can fabricate something, a one use device that’ll take you back home,” Bruce explains, sending the schematics to the nearby lab. “Rest, you’ll need it.”

“Great,” Jason mutters, listening as Bruce heads towards the elevator.

“Good luck, Jason,” Bruce calls out before the elevator door closes, lifting him to the manor.

Left alone in the Cave, Jason looks around and sinks into the chair. His mind wanders, of course, to you. Maybe looking at your file wouldn’t hurt…

Scooting the chair closer to the computer, he’s lucky enough to easily find the file on you. His eyes wander, the name (Y/N) (Y/L/N) burning into his memory as he reads about your life. Apparently, you lived in Gotham for a few years before moving out of state. That’s when you started showing your metahuman abilities, abilities so close to Hawk Woman they believed you to be a reincarnated version of her daughter.

Nothing was ever confirmed, especially when you had lost your mind by the time the testing was scheduled. He bites his lip, hovering the cursor over the photo file.

“To hell with it,” he grunts, clicking on it.

The file opens, revealing younger photos of you. You had just sprouted your wings then, your eyes shining so bright he thought they were glowing. He scrolls down, watching as your face ages, the innocent smiles morphing to one he knows well. He stops at a picture of you with Hawk Woman, your eyes piercing his as a smile barely glances your features.

By the time that he reaches the end of the photos, a notification goes off. Was it time to go already? He pushes himself out of the chair, heading to the lab. He takes the weapon and examines it. At least it’s as simple as pulling a trigger.

Giving this universe one last look, he pulls the trigger. Bright light envelops him, and then he’s falling.

“Fucking not again!” he screams, reaching for his grappling hook.

He’s lost his bearings and doesn’t know where exactly he is. Shooting the grapple, his body twists to see the ground quickly approaching. Jason feels the grappling hook catch and he swings to the nearest building. Tucking into himself, he was able to roll into a standing position. Breathing heavily, he looks around and notices the familiar buildings of Gotham.

Jason nearly jumps out of his skin as his grappling hook lands right behind him, a chuckle following as a figure lands next to him. He turns to see… you?

You looked nothing like the pictures from the other universe. Your wings are covered in stunning armor that extends down to a full body piece. Everything was sleek, but worn enough to show the many battles you’ve lived through.

“A pleasure to finally meet you, Hood, Batman never shuts up about you,” you say with a smile, your glittering eyes flicking up to the sky.

He nearly kicks himself for waiting too long to reply. Jason runs his fingers though his hair, trying to regain his composure.

“Nice to meet you, too, I’ve heard a lot about you.” Jason replies, extending a hand.

You take it, giving him a firm shake. His eyes wander, finally understanding that this version of you had the best life compared to your counterpart. Your smile nearly makes him melt as you laugh, a hand resting on your hip.

“Really?”

He chuckles, “Yeah.”

He looks around, suddenly remembering what he was doing before he was shot into another universe.

Jason turns to you, “What ever happened to that guy I was fighting?”

“Took him down probably a few minutes after he shot you to oblivion,’ you reply, flinging your hand off in a random direction. “Authorities took him and I’ve been scouting around since. I figured you’d pop back here sometime.”

As if on cue, his stomach rumbles loudly. You both laugh, your armor creaking as your hand goes to cover your mouth. Fuck, he’s already hooked.

“I guess hopping universes makes you hungry,” you say, gesturing to a nearby restaurant. “Wanna get something to eat? We’d have to get outdoor seating, though, not very comfortable with these.” Your wings flutter a bit, making the sun reflect oh so deliciously off of it.

Jason smiles, “Fine by me.”

Grabbing him, you glide down to the restaurant and talk each others’ ears off until it closed. By the time you’re both stuffed and slightly tipsy, and a quick friendship already blossomed into something more.

[gh0stsh4rk]

The Gang Gets Put into a Saw Trap

Okay this idea has been plaguing me so here are my speculations about if members of the gang ended up in saw traps (what they would be and why they would/wouldn't survive)

:readmore: Okay alphabetical order, Charlie !

If he doesn't get put in a trap for stalking then John definitely gets him for his drug use. Based on Charlie's Home Alone and the ending of Chardee Macdennis 2: Electric Boogaloo Charlie actually has a chance. He's willing to put himself into great physical pain to achieve a goal, but in Charlie's Home Alone he also proves how little foresight he puts into most things. Any level of complexity and Charlie is dead. If he listens to the instructions he has a chance, but will he ? As for the trap...the classic bathroom trap. I could go reverse bear trap because of the substance abuse, but Charlie's history as a voyeur lines up with Adam's quite well. Low chance of survival just based on the need to collaborate with another person and not let them kill him. (Rather than a poisoned cigarette it would be poisoned alcohol, which he would take without convincing.)

Next up is Dee

Dee would likely end up in a trap for her consistent history of putting her own comfort and convenience over other's wellbeing. We see this when she leaves the Waitress in a bog in Dee Sinks in a Bog, getting Cricket to leave the priesthood in The Gang Exploits a Miracle, and leaving him and others to burn alive in Mac and Dennis's apartment in The Gang Squashes their Beefs. Dee ends up at the helm of the shotgun carousel and I see her saving no lives and failing jigsaw's test. Next is Dennis

We all know Dennis's sin is lust, and of course it is his sexual impropriety that lands him in a trap. In both parts of The Gang Goes to Hell he practically hunts a barely of age girl, and in The Gang Buys a Boat he makes it just clear enough what the implication of being on a boat is that it's worrying even to Mac. All of this lands Dennis in the Bedroom trap. Dennis shows a high pain tolerance in Chardee Macdennis, even managing to avoid reacting to having his hand pierced with a dart. However, I'm not sure vanity would allow him to gouge his eyes out like he would need to for this trap. He might be able to, but I wouldn't bet on it.

Next Frank

Frank's history of running sweatshops is not exactly a secret. Frank admits to deaths in his sweatshops in Charlie Goes America All over Everybody's Ass, and it's not that surprising after seeing how he tells Mac to run his own sweatshop in The Aluminum Monster vs Fatty Magoo. We learn more of the gruesome details of this in Making Dennis Reynolds a Murderer when he continues the tradition of forgetting he's hot, just like in Frank's Little Beauties. All of this lands Frank in the Acid room trap and needless to day, if any of his victim's family members had the chance, Frank wouldn't make it out of that room. Frank dies. Finally, Mac.

Mac or Ronnie the Rat has a long history of snitching. In The High School Reunion he rats on Adriano for having fake drink tickets, but that's a fairly small crime compared to his snitching nearly costing his father his life in Mac Kills his Dad. This lands Mac in the Venus Flytrap trap. Unfortunately for Mac based on his performance in Mac Day and his admission to Charlie that his new sunglasses in Pop-Pop: the Final Solution are to hide how scared he is, he isn't the badass he thinks he is. He's not digging a key out of his eye anytime soon. Mac fails the test.

Bonus !

The gang as a whole likely would end up in the featured trials of Saw V, and in most cases, would not survive. HOWEVER--the gang of Season 2 with Franks guidance may have a chance to make it out alive. As Dennis explains in Chardee Macdennis, his mind is strong but his body is weak.

Thanks if you stayed for this rambling !! I may have to do something like this again it was fun :)

[penvisions]

here's one for you while I think about the one you sent me!

once more, with feeling 🧡

kate, bb, yours was utterly delicious!

this was so much fun! here's mine - once more, with feeling {frankie morales x reader}

It started off as a chance encounter at the convenience store. Picking up a prescription and a bag of sour gummy candies. But of course your wallet hadn’t been inside the chaos of your purse. The cards hadn’t been rattling around amid the pens, gum wrappers, scraps of paper with lists, or the lighter that had somehow ended up in there either.

“Shit.”

The cashier rolls her eyes, popping a large bubble she had just blown out from the wad of gum in her mouth. An arched brow her silent judgement.

“I don’t have my wallet.”

“Okay.” She begins to slid the items away before a figure closed in on your right side.

“I’ll cover it,” A deep voice rumbled and you turned to meet a pair of startlingly wide brown eyes. They were set in the face of a handsome man. Your own roved over him, from the patchy scruff lining his jaw, the plush set of lips set under a thick moustache, the curls tamped down and curling around a cap tight over his head, the aviators slung in the collar of his grey t-shirt. But what really stole your breath away was the toothy grin he was flashing at you as he set down the items in his arms and reached to retrieve his worn wallet from a back pocket. “Gummies are an essential, can’t let ya go without them.”

Another bubble popping startled you, making you realize you hadn’t said anything in response. With a chuckle the man was gently corralling you away from the debit machine, a card between his thick fingers. He swiped it, nodding his head to the cashier as she held out two different plastic bags for the man to take.

“Thank you, that was very kind of you-“

“Fransisco, but Frankie is just fine.” He held out a hand, the bag with your items in it. You took it as you walked along side him out the sliding doors. You offered your name along with a thankful smile. All too aware of the large hoodie you had thrown on over a pair of shorts in your rush out the door. You only lived across the street, but of course you would run into a stunning man on your put off and then rushed errand.

“No problem at all.” He didn’t move toward the parking lot and neither did you, both rooted close enough to catch the scent of each other’s perfume and cologne. You could feel his eyes watch you as you tore into the bag of gummies, twin cherries. You held the open bag out to him as you brough one up to your lips. He smirked as he brought one to his own mouth.

“Cherries, that your thing? Cause you smell like ‘em and I bet you taste like ‘em too, now.” An eyebrow raised, though it was anything but a judgment like it had been on the cashier’s face. It was a flirty challenge and you couldn’t help the pull of your lips to match his energy.

“I dunno, why don’t you find out?” You swallowed, the candy sweet on your tongue and tangy. Your breath hitched, betraying your nerves as he reached a hand out to gently hold the back of your head and pull you toward him. His lips were plush against yours, so soft and faintly flavored from the candy. He didn’t try to push it past a chaste connection, pulling back after a few seconds.

“Mmm, seems like I need to do a little more research.”

“Seems like you do.” The flimsy handles of the bag slid down to the crook of your elbow as you reached up to cup his face. Leaning in, you kisses him with more intention. Allowing for him to lick into your mouth, licking the flavor from you as if he was starving and it was hist first taste of food in a long while.

You hummed, pulling him closer to feel the front of his body pressed up against your own, his hands going around the small of your back. Pleasure pooled in your middle, lighting you up as you stood in front of the convenient store and shared kisses with a beautiful stranger.

Sharing a breath, his fingers twitched around you as your lashes fluttered. His eyes were already watching when you opened them back up.

“Cherries were always my favorite.” He kissed you again and somehow you knew it would lead to a cherry frosted cake and the sharing of vows.

fic title prompts!

[universe-on-her-shoulders]

Since you wanted another one, Janto w/ 7? (Preferably Jack receiving the hug bc my boy needs it but it doesn’t have to be) :3

~ @sammys-magical-au

"You look like you need a hug."

Jack's words were quiet and unusually subdued, and Ianto felt his shoulders slump, the pretence of normality finally seeping away as he put his head in his hands and suppressed a sound that was caught between a sob and a groan. Every part of his body ached from battling the autumn storm outside, and his clothes had become so sodden that he was now dressed in a pair of Owen's spare jeans and one of Jack's 'emergency meeting' shirts, both of which felt foreign and strange against his skin. As he closed his eyes and tried to inhale deeply to calm himself, his mind instead supplied an image of the woman they'd set out to help, but whose mangled body had been left in an alleyway by the vampiric alien they'd been hunting down. Ianto had been the one to find her, and now he bit down on another sob, shaking his head hard as though that might dislodge the memory of her sightless eyes and bloodless skin, and the wounds torn in her throat.

"Yeah," he mumbled into his hands, rubbing his eyes until stars popped behind his eyelids. "Yeah, I do."

A second later, Jack's arms enfolded him, and for once he couldn't much bring himself to care that they were in the Hub, and that the others were working at their desks. He wanted and needed to be held, and so he relaxed into the embrace, taking deep breaths of Jack's familiar, reassuring smell and trying to wish away the horrors of the day. He wanted to go home. He wanted his own clothes. He wanted a beer and a pizza and a film that he knew all the words to, so that mouthing along with the actors could occupy just enough of his brain to keep it from dwelling on the day's events.

It wasn't the first time he'd seen a dead body, but it never got easier. Well. It was easy enough to ignore in the heat of the moment; you ascertained whether someone was alive or dead, you prioritised the living, and you got on with dealing with whatever it was that had done that to them. But in the aftermath, as the adrenaline ebbed away, you had to face the fact that somebody who had once been walking, talking, thinking and breathing was now just... gone, their existence snuffed out like a candle. And sometimes death looked peaceful, as though they'd merely gone to sleep, but sometimes it was messy and violent, and you realised that their blood was all over you, and that you had to deal with cleaning everything up, and trying to come up with a convenient cover story to tell their loved ones - or to get the police to, at any rate. Andy was usually sufficiently empathic and understanding about such matters, so it was usually him they tried to ask for if he was on duty. He'd be the one dealing with this woman, and Ianto felt a small flush of reassurance about that fact; that she was in safe, reliable hands, and that Andy would break the news to her family with compassion.

"I'm sorry," Jack murmured, pressing a kiss to Ianto's shoulder. "I know it doesn't get easier."

Ianto said nothing. He didn't need Jack's apology; it wasn't his fault. And he was right; it didn't get easier.

"Let's go home," Jack suggested, and Ianto nodded mutely. "Your place. Pizza and beer. And a Bond film. Yeah?"

Ianto felt his eyes fill with tears. "Yeah. Please."

Send me a number and a ship!

[hallowed-nebulae]

his bracket/poll won't be until next week, but here's more k'pheli/sae'pheli'ehva propaganda, for the wol tourney run by @woltourney ! these sketches are messy bc the lack of spoons hit ahaha

the appearances are as follows, left-to-right top-to-bottom: A Realm Reborn, Syrcus Tower alliance raid (Crystal Tower questline), midway through Stormblood, Labyrinth of the Ancients alliance raid (Crystal Tower questline), post-Crystal Tower questline. and a doodle of k'pheli and g'raha (from just before ST raid)

some notes under the cut, bc these got rambly oops:

k'pheli has two names! technically "k'pheli tia" is the second one, and sae'pheli'ehva is the first one; it's due to the worldbuilding of the au he's in, which i might elaborate on at some point later. but both names are equally valid and he'll answer to either of them

technically he's a self-insert but i added lore for how that works, so in-universe he's the incarnation of a god responsible for creating the plane of existence. because of this he does radiate divinity sometimes, though other times he's just some guy. in-universe he's also worshipped bc people (g'raha) Notice the divinity and go (in the tone of the history of the world and everything) "we should make a religion out of this" and then they did.

adding onto that, because the god he's an incarnate of had black hair, the more he's worshipped the darker sae'pheli'ehva's hair gets, and it'll eventually turn black. the blue streaks are crystal (as is the lighter blue eye), and the blue streaks are to do with him being the crystal god (because the whole religion that worships him popped up around mor dhona and the crystal tower -- i'll elaborate on this later)

after g'raha gets sealed away, the tips of his ears and tail turn black permanantly while the rest returns to the original pink color, and k'pheli cuts his hair short. it grows out from HW to post-SB, where it ends up going down to about his waist.

he's got chronic aether sickness and due to divine nature creates a ton of aether-filled crystals to try and lessen the amount of aether in his body. all of the crystal jewelry that he wears is made by his own hands and he'll give out any crystals he makes for free. as a gift.

k'pheli is afab genderfluid but uses he/him for convenience; the little marks at the corner of his eyes are actually tattoos to match what a male miqo'te's face marks would look like, but he's too lazy to cover up his other natural ones.

the crystal streaks in his hair increase over time, though by post-SB they've stopped growing. they're just sorta there.

his canine teeth are made of crystal, as are his claws. he loses about 60% of his tail around the waking sands incident (yknow, when pretty much everyone is killed) and regrows the missing 60% as crystal (though this is somewhat a painful process)

technically this image is inaccurate, since he isn't learning archery until the crystal tower questline (g'raha is the one to teach him the basics) and only tears through archer/bard quests after the world of darkness when g'raha gets sealed away. it made for a good visual contrast with the dragoon armor though so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

since he's a gelmorran miqo'te (more on this on another day), he's naturally taller than other miqo'te. gelmorran miqo'te are generally the same height as elezen, but poor k'pheli is short. luckily for him, short for a gelmorran miqo'te is tall for any other miqo'te, and as such he's several inches taller than his beloved g'raha. perfect height difference to rest his chin on g'raha's head and hug the allagan history nerd from behind.

i couldn't think of what to put in the bottom right corner initially so i just put that little g'raha/k'pheli doodle there. the ship of the two of them has a name and it's crystalline connection, bc i like my themes. and yes g'raha has freckles, it's what he deserves. k'pheli will trace the freckles in an invisible constellation with his fingers, as one does

the one crystal eye has a white pupil because i thought it looked cool and also something something divine eye. i dunno the vibes are neat

i have not actually played SB or post-SB or ShB (i've been watching a letsplay) due to being a free trial player, so any of sae'pheli'ehva's outfits from post-HW or onwards have yet to be properly ironed down. oops. if you see inconsistency in outfits due to this, don't worry about it! it's gucci!