#oh boy i have to tag every single game in there now??

[fishymom-art]

Thanks, MatPat :)

[shixcherie]

Switch Me Up Like Nintendo | Jeong Yunho ☆

~ ~ call me chérie ☆

Navigation | Kinktober List

☆ Day 09 : Riling Up, Public Sex

↬ [ Synopsis ] : Riling Yunho up has its dangerous consequences, but you can't resist the thrill, especially when you know his rewards will leave you craving more. Angry Yunho = GodMode unclocked!

Word Count : 2.1k Genre : Smut, Gamer Au. Pairing : GammerBF! Yunho x GamerGF! Reader

WARNINGS : Established relationship, riling up, angst, dom/sub undertones, soft dom! Yunho, unprotected sex (don’t do it kids, wrap it up), internet cafe public sex, praise, pet names, size kink (its Yunho, so ofc).

Tag list OPEN! - let me know if you want to be tagged for this Kinktober list

☆☆☆ NOTE : Day 09 is here with our fav puppy boy, Yunho. ma chéries, I enjoyed writing this so much, hope you love it darlings.☆

Yunho isn't usually a sore loser when playing video games,well, maybe just a little. But repeatedly losing can test anyone's patience, and if you had a hand in his defeat, it's bound to become a problem. A problem you're more than happy to endure, especially when it comes to facing the consequences.

An intense match of Valorant is unfolded between San and Yunho, but with a twist—it's a blindfolded battle. One player is blindfolded while their teammate guides them to take down the opponent and secure a kill. The first team to reach 10 kills wins the match.

It’s you and San versus Yunho and Yuna, and let’s just say your guiding skills are a little too effective, enabling San to successfully kill Yunho every single time. After all, you didn’t reach Immortal rank for nothing.

The first two kills were a breeze, Yunho and Yuna weren’t quite prepared, as Yuna was still warming up to her role as Yunho's guide. Meanwhile, you and San, having played countless matches together, secured easy kills. Yunho wasn’t too bothered at this point, after all, it wasn’t the end of the match yet.

But then came the next five kills. In a flash, you directed San through a series of crazy, sneaky attacks from ridiculously clean headshots, one-tap kills, and to even a jaw-dropping knife kill that sent the crowd into a chorus of cheers. The score was now 7-0, and let’s just say Yunho's patience was wearing thin.The whole internet cafe erupted with cheers as you looked around for familiar faces of your freinds as Wooyoung, Hongjoong and Jongho’s face came into sight.

The match was intense, the tension in the room thick. Yunho was laser-focused, determined to turn things around, while Yuna, now fully in sync with him, guided his every move. But even with San blindfolded, you were in control, leading him with precision, knowing exactly how to push Yunho’s buttons.

“San, let’s take our time… no need to rush. We want to savor every moment before we finish them off.” you whispered, just loud enough for Yunho to hear. The tease in your voice was unmistakable. You heard him let out a low groan, oh…music to your ears. Riling him up slowly and steadily was exactly how you enjoyed it.

With the score at 9-0, you couldn’t help but smirk. You knew exactly what you were doing. Each time San landed a perfect headshot or a sneaky kill, you could see Yunho’s frustration building.

“Sannie, let’s get in close, really close… I want them to feel our every move.” you said, your smirk evident in your voice, a smirk Yunho could almost picture behind his blindfold, one he was eager to wipe away.

It wasn’t just about winning anymore, it was about making him squirm and enjoying the way you were getting under his skin, after all that is when you gonna get your sweet reward, as an angry and frustrated Yunho is a sight to behold. And when he fucks you crazy with your eyes rolled back as he devours you with wet kisses, choking you with the perfect amount of force, a point where pain turns into ecstatic pleasure while overstimulating the heck out you yet not letting you cum.

But as much as you enjoyed riling Yunho up, you didn’t want him to leave completely defeated. There’s a fine line between being playful and harsh. So, as the next round started, you decided to give him a chance.

“San, hold on a moment” you said, your voice carrying a hint of concern. You paused deliberately, giving Yunho and Yuna a chance to catch up. With Yuna’s guidance, Yunho managed to slip through and land a shot on San, finally getting a kill.

The score changed to 9-1, and Yunho’s face lit up with a mix of triumph and something else, he knew what you were doing. Despite being blindfolded, he shot you a playful glare and said, “I’ll be keeping this in mind for later.” His frustration turned into a competitive grin. You’d given him a small win, but it was clear he was plotting his own revenge, a sweet revenge at that.

In the final round, you decided it was time to end the match. With San blindfolded, you guided him with intense focus, directing his every move with precision.

“I love how you follow my every command, San. Now, let’s show them how perfectly we work together.” you said, earning a confident “Fuck yeah! lets finish them off” from San.

“I see you’ve got quite the skill. Maybe I’ll need to have a closer look at your talents later.” Yunho teased, his voice laced with playful intrigue. While his mind was fully focused on the game, his body ached to get up and take you right then and there. The crowd’s noise faded into the background as his thoughts were consumed by you and your sweet voice guiding San, effortlessly overshadowing Yuna’s commands.

“We’re not done yet. Let’s see if you can really finish this.” Yuna shouted, bringing Yunho back to his senses. He tried to focus on the match as much as he could, but despite his efforts, he struggled to keep up.

The tension built as you carefully led San into position, like a predator waiting for the prey you were up with a perfect shot lined up for Yunho - Yuna.

In a dramatic climax, San took a deep breath and landed a flawless single headshot, securing the final kill. The match ended with a thrilling 10-1 victory.

The room erupted in cheers as Yunho and San removed their blindfolds.

San enveloped you in a warm, bone-crushing hug, which barely went unnoticed by Yunho as he thanked Yuna for her guidance. As Yunho made his way toward you and San, his eyes were fixed on yours, a mix of challenge and affection in his gaze. San and Yunho exchanged their usual fist bump and hug, as they always did after game nights.

You’d won the game, but you knew the real victory was yet to come later, when it was just the two of you, and Yunho had the chance to get his sweet revenge for all the teasing you’d put him through.

But for now, you basked in the victory, knowing you’d managed to rile him up just the way you wanted.

—

The party was in full swing as the internet cafe you competed with Yunho celebrated its seven-year anniversary, unaware of the real celebration occurring behind the closed doors of Minho’s office, the owner of the cafe. Music blared at full volume while you and Yunho’s friends danced the night away, sipping on their bottles of soju, completely oblivious to the rhythm in which Yunho was moving his long, hard length against your aching core.

Yunho’s lips moved in perfect sync with yours as his length rubbed in a precise back-and-forth motion against your throbbing core, sweet juices leaking in his wake. Your legs wrapped around his waist, your back pressed firmly against the wall, clothes discarded in some dark corner of the room.

“Yuyu… I-I can’t… I nee-need you,” you stammered, barely able to form a coherent sentence as his slow, delicious movements against your aching core clouded your mind. “Too much,” you whimpered, a soft cry escaping your lips. Yunho’s mouth nibbled on your earlobe, making you squirm, your cries muffled by the loud music outside.

“Too much? That’s cute, baby. Didn’t you say something about savoring the moment to San earlier?” he teased, biting your earlobe and earning a sharp yelp from you. “That’s exactly what I’m doing—savoring you bit by bit,” he chuckled, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

“Yunho, I—” you tried to protest, but his pace increased, the friction intensifying as he moved back and forth faster, making your toes curl. Soft, desperate moans escaped your lips like prayers, as if calling for angels.

“Speechless already, baby?” he mocked, pulling his head back to touch foreheads with you, savoring every expression on your face. Your eyes were tightly shut, cheeks flushed a deep shade of red, and your lips, still swollen from the earlier kiss, were now caught between your teeth as you bit down to control the sounds of pleasure his movements brought you. The sight of you—lost in the moment—was almost enough to finish him, but he decided to drag this out just a little longer.

“Tell me what you want, and maybe I’ll give it to you, pretty,” he asked, offering a flicker of hope that he’d finally give in. But then he added with a teasing grin, “Just like you gave me one chance.”

“I want you, Yunho… buried deep inside me, so deep I’m seeing angels,” you panted, your voice trembling with desperation. “F-fuck me harder than ever before. Make my legs give out, make me go completely dumb. I don’t care; just please, make me cum already. I need you more than I need to breathe.”

Your words tumbled out in a messy, breathless rush, a plea so raw it felt like you were confessing your deepest desires. Yunho’s low chuckle sent shivers down your spine as he gripped your waist tighter, teasingly brushing his lips against your ear.

“You’re something else, you know that?” he whispered, voice full of amusement, but his gaze was anything but playful. "I'll give you everything you're begging for... and more." With that, his teasing finally came to an end.

Lining himself up perfectly at your dripping entrance, Yunho slowly pushed in, his thick tip stretching you inch by inch. The sharp sting quickly melted into pure pleasure as you struggled to adjust to his monstrous size. No matter how many times Yunho had fucked you, it was always a challenge for your small body to take him, especially when he was angry. But that never stopped you from teasing him, pushing his buttons whenever you could.

Your nails dug into his back as waves of pleasure shot through your body, your walls gripping him tightly as he bottomed out inside you. Yunho’s mind short-circuited at how tight you were, like it was the first time all over again, no matter how often he took you.

“You’re so big, Yuyu,” you whined, your voice trembling. “I might break apart.” His slow, deliberate movements inside you were torturous, teasing you to the brink, but you could feel the anticipation building for what was coming next.

“Keep up, babygirl,” he groaned, his breath hot against your neck as you clenched even tighter around him. “You’re taking me so well... I might just lose it and empty myself deep inside you.” His voice was thick with lust, wanting to completely mess you up.

As Yunho’s pace quickened, each thrust grew harder and deeper, sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. His fast rhythm made your mind hazy, every movement driving you closer to the edge, while his lips left soft kisses along your shoulder.

“You take me so well, baby,” he groaned, his breath hot against your skin. “I can feel you trembling.” He pressed another kiss to your shoulder.

You could barely form words, your body already teetering on the edge, each thrust pulling you closer to the breaking point. “Y-Yunho, I’m gonna—”

“Not yet,” he growled, pulling back slightly before driving in even deeper. His hips snapped against yours, sending tremors through your entire body. “I want to feel you cum around me, baby. Give me a taste, won’t you?”

The intensity of his words overwhelmed you, pushing you right to the edge. His deep, rhythmic thrusts filled you perfectly, and with each stroke, your moans grew louder, your body unable to resist any longer.

“Now, baby,” Yunho whispered, his voice laced with satisfaction. That was all it took for you to fall apart, the tension inside you unraveling in waves as you cried out his name, your release crashing down hard.

Feeling you clench tightly around him, Yunho groaned deeply, his movements growing more erratic until he thrust one final time, releasing inside you. Good thing you were on birth control, because with how intense it was, this day you would’ve definitely ended up pregnant with his baby. You both stayed still for a moment, breathing heavily as the aftershocks of pleasure slowly faded away.

After a while, you both made your way out of Minho’s office, fully dressed and somewhat recovered from the intense make-out session.

You rejoined your friends, continuing the party as if nothing had happened in that room, like you two had never played your own intimate game of switching moods like a Nintendo console, moving up, down, left, and right, enjoying each other's pleasures.

~ ~ Chérie ☆ signin’ off

DISCLAIMER: This is totally fictional and not a real depiction of the ATEEZ members. It's all just for fun only so please don’t take anything seriously and keep the mood light around here.

© ShixCherie.

[pretzel-box]

STREAMER AU MASTERLIST HERE

CHAPTER 6: I AM RIGHT AND I HAVE WON

tags: I don't know how to tag this? Painter exposes Allison?

words: 4k

authors note: I am not happy with how I wrote it, I blame the lack of a laptop.

In the span of three weeks, moved five individual people in five individual places.

Sebastian was the first,

After Allison had exposed his roommate a week ago, he was confused, angry and somewhat surprised. The man found himself glancing at everything that was connected to you, the bedroom door, the empty work desk, the chinese takeout shop and most importantly the second helmet for his bike.

This particular helmet wasn't really yours but you wore it so much in the past that it was basically owned by you.

Those little things conflicted him dearly, since he was sure, even with your weird love-hate friendship, did you both co-existed pretty well.

Yet, even as those small reminders tugged at him, Allison's words kept looping in his mind.

They set you up, you know that, right? she had said, her voice laced with feigned concern. All this time, they’ve been playing you—just so they could stay close to Solace. You're just a pawn.

Sebastian couldn't shake it off. The idea that you, the person who had shared his space and a fragile, weird friendship with him, might have been using him gnawed at him. He hated how much it made sense. Allison had laid it out perfectly—too perfectly, in hindsight—but in the chaos of everything, it sounded believable.

The constant replay of that accusation left him uneasy, and now every memory was tainted with doubt. The late-night laughs, the casual banter, even the tension that always bubbled beneath the surface. Was all of that staged? Was your connection to him just a ploy? He didn’t want to believe it, but Allison’s words had already planted the seed.

And then there was the part that unsettled him the most.

According to Allison, you loved him, in a way that bordered on obsession. She had claimed that every time you looked at him, it was with a deeper attachment than he’d realized—something beyond friendship, beyond even the regular crush. It was an unhealthy fixation. He was the center of your world, and it had all been hidden behind the mask of your chaotic yet comfortable interactions.

Sebastian felt conflicted. He hadn't noticed anything like that before. Sure, you had your quirks, but it never crossed his mind that it went that deep. Maybe he missed it because he'd never seen you in that light.

But that’s where the real problem lay—what he didn’t know was that Allison’s words were a lie, carefully crafted to make him doubt everything. You didn’t love him in that unhealthy way, and you’d never set him up. But the damage was done. The seed of doubt had been planted, and Sebastian was starting to wonder if everything between you had been a game all along.

Sebastian only found comfort in a single person right now, his best friend.

He swung his leg over his bike, secured his helmet, and drove off to visit his friend once more.

The second was Mama Solace.

Sebastian’s mother had finally found the time and money for a much-needed vacation, and it just so happened to be close to her son. A coincidence? Perhaps not. She loved Sebastian fiercely, more than life itself, and it was time once again to remind him of that with one of her unexpected, affectionate visits.

The last time she had dropped by was when you first moved in, becoming Sebastian’s roommate.

Oh, how she adored you from the moment she laid eyes on you. You had all the qualities she dreamed of in a partner for her son—sweet, caring, and just the right amount of fierce. She saw the connection between you two right away, even if Sebastian refused to acknowledge it. In her mind, you were already the perfect match for her precious boy. You had no idea just how often she'd drop hints, trying to nudge Sebastian toward you, much to his exasperation.

But that was Mama Solace—she loved to meddle in the most loving way possible. This visit would be no different.

She sat in the comfort of the plane, ready to depart from her home country to meet you two again.

The third person was Allison.

She darted around a local clothing store, her father’s credit card clutched in her manicured fingers like it was a divine gift. Her gel nails clicked against the plastic as she browsed the racks, the shopping spree a temporary balm for the simmering rage she felt toward you. Her irritation with you had long passed the point of tolerable, and only the thrill of buying something new could calm her nerves.

How dare you disrupt her carefully laid plans? All you had to do was stay in your lane, accept your role, and everything would have gone smoothly. But no—you had to get in the way, threatening the perfect web of control she thought she had spun. The plan had been flawless, but now, with every step you took, you were messing it all up.

Sebastian, thankfully, was still in the dark about everything. He was too distracted, too wrapped up in his own confusion to see the truth right in front of him. But that was fine with her. Allison believed she held all the cards. She had you, Sebastian, and the whole situation under her control—or so she thought.

She smiled to herself, picking up a striking red dress—perfect for her next date with Sebastian. The fabric would hug her in all the right places, showing off her figure. In her mind, it was only a matter of time before he saw her the way she pretended to see him, and this dress would be another step toward that.

As she stepped up to the cash register, her confidence faltered when the cashier swiped her card and it declined. Her father was still furious with her, apparently. She gritted her teeth in frustration, but quickly smoothed over her expression. She wasn't about to let this minor inconvenience ruin her day.

Without missing a beat, Allison pulled out her phone, her fingers dancing across the screen like it was second nature. She knew exactly how to handle this.

"Hey, handsome," she texted, her words dripping with flirtation. "Mind helping your favorite girl out?~"

It was easy—too easy, in fact. She had gotten used to manipulating situations to her advantage, and she was confident Sebastian would give her money. He always did.

Then there was Painter.

While Allison paid with Sebastian’s help and strolled out of the shop, Painter quietly entered his own—at the other end of the city center. Today, the usual sleek black suit made from expensive cotton was left in the closet. Instead, he wore a casual outfit: thrifted brown pants, a simple white shirt, and a green checkered vest that his mother had picked out for him years ago. He never liked it at first, but eventually, he came to admit—green was definitely his color.

Dressed like this, Painter looked like any other trendy, laid-back guy. You'd never guess he was the heir to Urbanshade, one of the most powerful companies around. His father had been grooming him for years to take over, especially after Painter managed to graduate from Yale with top honors. He was the pride of the family—a model Ivy League student, exactly as his parents had always hoped for.

But unlike his friend Sebastian, who lived by his own chaotic set of rules, Painter was always one of those people who excelled in everything, effortlessly. To the outside world, he was the golden child, the genius destined for greatness.

Yet for Painter, it was all a curse. His intelligence, his success—it only weighed him down, shackling him to a future he didn’t want. His heart was never in the world of business, but his family couldn't see that. To them, he was the prodigy who would continue the legacy. To him, it was a prison. The more success he achieved, the more trapped he felt.

It was why he enjoyed days like this—disappearing into the city, blending into the crowd where nobody knew or expected anything from him. Just for a little while, he could pretend to be someone else, a simple tech shop owner that tries to raise his own money to open up a small art studio instead.

While he worked, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the keys of his laptop, his thoughts inevitably drifted to you. He had seen you a few times with Sebastian in the city, always from a distance. Yet, despite never formally meeting you, he knew more about you than you could have imagined. Sebastian had talked about you often, and though Painter stayed in the shadows of your life, observing from afar, something stirred in his chest whenever he thought of you.

It was ironic, really. He was so familiar with the details of your existence, while you didn’t even know he existed. You were unaware of the person quietly watching your story unfold, aching from the sidelines. There was something about you that captivated him—perhaps it was the way you seemed to bring a kind of life to those around you, or maybe it was simply how you existed in Sebastian’s orbit.

But there was one thing that bothered him more than anything: Allison.

It pained him to know how she had manipulated your life, how she had sunk her claws into Sebastian’s world and, by extension, yours. Painter had known for some time what Allison was up to, and unlike Sebastian, he could see right through her facade.

Just like Allison, Painter had developed his own plan.

But his wasn't born out of selfishness or jealousy. It was something else—something more complex. While he hated to admit it, he wanted to find a way to cross paths with you, to help you in a way that would loosen the hold Allison had over you. And maybe, just maybe, he'd get closer to you in the process.

Though Painter’s mind was sharp, his heart was tangled in emotions he didn’t yet fully understand.

The last person who could understand Painter’s feelings was you.

You were navigating the city streets, your hands busily typing on your phone, trying to figure out where exactly you needed to go. With your streaming account temporarily banned, you had decided to get your laptop fixed—the keys were loose, and the screen was slightly cracked. The device had been with you for years, but it was clearly on its last legs. Maybe it was time for a new one, but for now, fixing it seemed like the easier option.

Eventually, you spotted it: a neat little shop with good reviews online. It seemed like the right place, and with a deep breath, you stepped inside.

Immediately, the smell of coffee greeted you. The shop had a warm, comfortable atmosphere, far cozier than you’d expected for a tech repair spot. There were shelves lined with new devices, a small selection of popular games, and a table for waiting customers. Despite the welcoming vibe, the place seemed empty—except for a young man at the counter.

He caught your eye right away, dressed in a casual yet stylish outfit that seemed effortless. His name tag drew your attention next, and you noticed something curious: an elegant name had been crossed out with a dry black marker, replaced with a word scribbled hastily over it—"Painter."

You weren’t sure what to make of him, but something about him seemed different. And without knowing it, the moment you stepped into the shop, you had walked into his world.

"Uhm, hi?" you greeted, your voice breaking the silence.

The young man behind the counter stared at you, caught off guard as if you had walked in at the worst possible moment. His eyes lingered on you for just a second too long, making the situation feel a bit awkward. There was something about the way he looked at you—almost like you had thrown him off balance. The way his gaze fixed on you, wide and a little too intense, made you wonder if you’d interrupted something.

"Oh, h-hello! Welcome, greetings. How can I help you today?" he stammered, clearly flustered. His response was a mix of polite and awkward, as though he hadn’t expected anyone to walk in. Maybe he wasn’t used to customers, or perhaps he was just an intern still getting the hang of things. Either way, he seemed utterly unprepared.

You smiled politely, deciding not to dwell on his awkwardness. "I’m here to get my laptop fixed," you explained, pulling the device from your bag and setting it on the counter. "It's been acting up—some of the keys are loose, and the screen's a bit cracked."

He nodded, though you noticed his hands were a bit shaky as he reached for the laptop. "Right, of course. I’ll take a look."

As he started inspecting the device, you took a moment to glance around the shop again, feeling oddly comfortable despite the rocky start to the conversation. There was something about him, though—his nervous energy, the way he seemed to be trying so hard to maintain a professional front. It was endearing in its own way.

What you didn’t know was that Painter wasn’t usually like this. Normally, he was calm and collected, able to handle even the most difficult situations. But the moment you walked in, something shifted. He had seen you before, from a distance, but never this close, and he wasn’t prepared for the rush of feelings he hadn’t even realized were there.

A small, unspoken crush had quietly crept up on him. He didn’t know why, but there was something about you that drew him in. And now, standing there with your laptop in his hands, he was doing his best to keep it together.

"I can take a look at it later. I’d say you can pick it back up… in like a week?" Painter offered, casting a polite smile your way. His expression was calm and professional, but beneath that exterior, his heart was racing.

You nodded, accepting his answer. After settling some details, you left your beloved laptop in his care, trusting him with the task. It felt strange to part with it, but the shop seemed reliable enough, and Painter—despite his awkwardness—seemed competent.

As you exited the store, you had no idea what you’d just set in motion.

For Painter, this wasn’t just a simple repair job. When you left your laptop with him, you unknowingly handed him exactly what he needed—the tools to execute the plan he’d been carefully crafting. Allison had been manipulating both you and Sebastian for far too long, and now Painter had the opportunity to expose her for what she truly was.

Your laptop would be the key to unraveling her schemes, and he was determined to set everything right, even if it meant crossing a few lines along the way.

Five people had already been moved. Now, it was Painter's turn to move them again, or at least some of them.

He had you exactly where he wanted. You left the shop, your laptop in his possession. That was step one. Now, he had to breach your digital privacy. He’d never done anything like this before, and the thought of doing what Allison had once done left a heavy weight in his gut. Yet, as soon as you left, he got to work. The laptop was old, practically ancient, but logging into your profile was easy—there wasn’t even a password. Your naivety was almost charming.

Everything was there—passwords, emails, data, and every digital memory. It was essentially Jelly’s—no, your—entire identity, captured in one place. He could call Sebastian, expose the laptop, and reveal his nasty girlfriend’s secrets. But no, Painter was above that. He preferred to play god.

His personality was usually against it but he will gladly bend the rules for his best friend…and his own potential crush.

Step two was breaching the streaming website to reclaim your account. A task simple enough for a Yale student with the right tools. Allison thought she'd been 'Jellycatfished,' but now it was Painter in control.

The account was exactly as you and Allison had left it. He couldn’t resist clicking on one of the stream recaps, your voice filling the room through the laptop speakers. There it was—undeniably yours.

He snatched his phone off the counter and dialed a number.

“‘Delia, bring the camera and the good microphone. We’re shooting something at the shop.” Cordelia, another worker in the store and a small-time content streamer, was known for her quirky charm. He knew she was the perfect partner for what he had in mind.

“Painter? For what?” she asked.

“We’re about to make someone a star.”

Cordelia didn’t hesitate. She was on her way, gathering the equipment for a hidden camera setup along with a quality microphone."

Next, it was Painter's turn to text Allison. He still remembered her number from when he’d seen it on Sebastian’s phone. A plan began to form in his mind, one that required precision and just the right touch of manipulation.

'Hey, Allison, right? Sebastian left a gift for you here. Here’s the address.'

He included the shop’s address, carefully typing it out before hitting send. He imagined the moment her phone would buzz, her eyes narrowing at the unexpected message. Would she hesitate, wondering if it was real? Or would her curiosity get the best of her?

Painter smiled to himself. Everything was falling into place. He wasn’t just setting a trap—he was weaving a performance, a story in which Allison would play a crucial role. Now, all he had to do was wait for the show to begin.

It was evening, and the store had long since closed, lights were out, though Painter had left the door unlocked. Everything was meticulously arranged—candles flickered softly, casting a warm glow around the room; a bouquet of red roses sat elegantly on the counter. But the centerpiece was Painter himself, dressed in an expensive, perfectly tailored cotton suit. He had spent hours preparing, adjusting his tie, combing his hair, making sure every detail was flawless. As he caught his reflection in the window, he almost didn’t recognize himself. He had never looked better.

Then, the door creaked open, and Allison stepped in. She wore a tight red dress that clung to her in all the right places, her hair perfectly styled. She carried herself with an air of confidence, as if she expected something grand—but her eyes betrayed her surprise as they scanned the room. The soft candlelight, the roses, and finally, they settled on Painter.

For a moment, there was silence as their gazes met.

"Let me introduce myself," Painter began, his voice calm and formal, though inside, the sweetness of his own tone made him sick. He forced a charming smile, the kind that was too perfect, too practiced. "I’m Painter—it’s a nickname," he added with a soft chuckle, as if trying to break the ice. "And I’m the heir to Urbanshade Corp."

He let the weight of his words linger, watching her reaction. He could see the curiosity in her eyes, the slight confusion.

"You’re probably wondering why you’re here," he continued, his voice smooth and rehearsed, like this was a well-orchestrated play.

This wasn’t just a conversation—it was a performance, and she had walked right into his scene.

"Painter? What’s going on? Where’s Sebastian?" Allison asked, her voice laced with surprise, though Painter could see she was already caught in his web.

"He’s not here. Sorry, I lied," Painter admitted, his tone smooth, but with a playful hint. He took a slow step toward her, his eyes never leaving hers. "Can you really blame me for wanting to be alone with someone so beautiful?"

He took another step, closing the distance between them.

"So... funny."

He was closer now, almost brushing against her.

"And intelligent?" His voice dropped to a whisper as he stood chest to chest with her, his breath warm against her ear.

Allison's eyes flickered with realization. The heir to Urbanshade Corp, standing so close, so eager—was he asking her out? Maybe it wasn’t so crazy to consider. A man of his status, his wealth... she could have a little fun on the side. A side fling wouldn’t hurt, right?

She placed a hand on his chest, feeling the crisp fabric of his suit under her fingers, catching the scent of his expensive aftershave. "You’re quite charming yourself," she said, her voice laced with a fake giggle designed to make men fall at her feet. But Painter played along, his smile widening.

"Oh?" he murmured, his voice dripping with charm. "Maybe you’d like to show me just how much?"

Allison leaned in, rising onto her toes to meet his height, her lips brushing close to his own, not touching yet. The tension between them was thick, charged with unspoken possibilities. For a brief moment, Painter thought he had her, that she was playing into his hands.

But then she stopped.

His lips hovered just shy of her skin as he whispered, "How much... you’re lying."

The playful edge in his tone had vanished, replaced by cold calculation. He would love to slap her, simply for cheating on his best friend. But now was hardly the time, not like this.

“You are not supposed to be his girlfriend. You are not Jelly and you don't deserve him.” His words caught her in surprise before she seemed to laugh.

“What do you know? They stole my identity! Ask Sebastian! I am the victim!” It was a poor try to defend herself.

“A victim? Another brilliant lie, congratulations. You officially make me sick.” The words were enough to set off her rage and she raised a hand to hit him, a hand that he caught in the middle of the action. “Don't you dare.”

“You know what? Fine, to hell with you. I am NOT them but it doesn't matter because everyone believes me anyways. I HAVE PLAYED YOU ALL. I GOT THE ACCOUNT BANNED. FUCK YOU, EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU STUPID IDIOTS. SEBASTIAN IS MINE AND I WON. I AM RIGHT AND I HAVE WON. I STOLE THEIR IDENTITY AND BECAME JELLYCATFISHED.”

Suddenly, the ceiling lights blazed to life, flooding the store in harsh white light. Allison blinked, momentarily blinded, as Cordelia stepped out from behind the shadows, a sly grin on her face.

"And that’s a wrap!" Cordelia announced, her voice dripping with amusement. "Great work, everyone. So authentic, Painter." She shot her boss a playful wink.

Allison’s eyes darted from Cordelia to Painter, confusion overtaking her. A second ago, she had been in control—or so she thought. But now, the anger and seduction drained from her face, replaced by a wide-eyed, flabbergasted look. She felt like a deer caught in headlights, utterly lost.

"You see," Painter began, his voice smooth but laced with triumph, "43 thousand people just witnessed your grand confession. Live and in full HD." He let the weight of his words sink in, a twisted smile forming as he saw the realization dawn in her eyes. "You’re a star now, Allison. Just like you always wanted to be."

Cordelia had filmed it all—the near-cheating, the manipulation, the confession—and streamed it live on Jellycatfished, the very platform that had become Allison’s downfall.

Painter took a step back, admiring his work. His plan had come together beautifully, every detail falling into place like a carefully painted masterpiece. He couldn’t help but applaud himself mentally for the sheer brilliance of it all. Soon enough, the lawsuit would hit Allison—public shame was only the beginning.

Outside the store, Sebastian stood frozen, just out of sight but close enough to hear everything. His phone was clenched tightly in his hand, his knuckles white with the pressure. He had seen the signs but ignored them, convinced he knew the truth. But now, as the reality of what had unfolded hit him, it was clear.

He had been wrong. And he had lost.

[kami-kun1003]

Silver’s narcolepsy is so… interesting to me

everyone always talks about it like it’s a silly joke. like “ha ha sleepy boy!!!” which is. fine. but from what we see in the game, it’s undoubtedly a serious physical disability. it literally causes him to fall asleep randomly throughout the day and there’s no way he can fight it. that’s genuinely scary and a cause for concern. what if he fell asleep next to a lake and drowned or something??

i can’t help but think about how much it must affect him mentally. imagine you’re the only human in a fae family, and your whole life you believed that you would be the first to die, and you need to make the most out of the short time you have to repay your loved ones for raising you.

and the universe decides to give you a sleep disorder that completely hindrances your ability to do so. you doze off CONSTANTLY, wasting hours upon hours of precious time that you could’ve used for something more useful.

you can’t control it. once you feel that drowsiness, it’s over. nothing helps; you just can’t stay awake regardless of what you try. no one knows what’s wrong with you so you just assume that it’s your own fault for being so lazy. your father’s done everything he can, bless his kind heart, but even he can’t find a solution.

nobody understands what you’re going through, they all say it’s normal to feel bored or tired from schoolwork every now and then. which isn’t how you feel at all, but you just don’t have the words to describe it.

it gets to the point where you’re failing your classes because your body simply refuses to function the way it’s supposed to. your teachers blame you and they’re right, it’s your fault it’s all your fault isn’t it?

your peers make fun of or look down on you for being unusual. for always falling asleep. for not expressing emotion (doesn’t anyone else find it hard?). you feel ashamed. you try to fix it but you can’t. nothing can ever be fixed.

it’s frustrating to be unable to control your own body. you’ve grown used to it, and so has everybody else, although that doesn’t make it any less of a problem. but at this point it feels like there’s no other choice but to just live with it.

and in the end, you feel guilty. your father has given you everything, and yet you can’t give back. does that not make you a failure? a disappointment of a son? here you are, living, breathing, thinking, and you can’t even do anything to thank the person who gave you the luxury of existence.

wouldn’t you hate sleep? wouldn’t you utterly despise that feeling of drowsiness that overtakes your mind when you so much as stay still for a single minute? would you not cherish the moments in which lethargy did not plague you?

oh, how you wish there was a cure.

(tagging: @fruixtii )

[jujutsubaby]

after hours (part 6)

☆ pairing: satoru gojo x afab!reader ☆ summary: you go to the barcade with your friends, feeling dejected that toji hasn't messaged you back. not only that, you're horny as hell and the girl satoru brought with him doesn't like you one bit. ☆ warnings: 18+! MINORS DNI! sexting, slight dub-con (reader and gojo get to second base while drunk), grinding, kissing, slight exhibitionism, drinking, slight verbal harassment ☆ tags: modern au, academia au ☆ a/n: this one's a doozy (8k+ words sorry) 🤪 also the bob odenkirk uber thing actually happened to me in college ok i really thought it looked like him even tho there was no reason for it!! leave me alone!! 🖤🤍 series masterlist 🤍🖤

"ngh~ m'gonna throw up," you complain, rubbing your temples, as you and your friends walk into the popping barcade.

"jesus, how much did you drink?" suguru asks concerned.

"not much but i saw satoru-" you fake a gagging noise. "i saw satoru shoving his tongue down that girl he's with right now."

"i heard that!" satoru yells, a couple yards behind you. you quickly turn around and see him walking beside her, his hand resting way lower on her back than it should be. you grimace at the sight.

your complaints are drowned out by the loud music the DJ was playing, the sound of coin machines, arcades, and people shouting over the music. it wasn't as crowded as usual (still crowded enough to have to wait in line for drinks and games). you're sure the thumping of the music will definitely have your ears ringing at the end of the night.

your eyes take a while adjust to the dim lighting, and you and your friends approach the bar, crowding around in a circle. the girl satoru is with is all over him, her hands never leaving his chest or his face. she’s always making it a point to kiss his cheek whenever she gets the chance. it makes you sick. there's no way fate is this cruel that even someone like satoru gets laid tonight and you don't?

god, what the hell is toji even doing that's making him too busy to answer your text?

"alright, me 'n satoru will grab drinks for everyone, you guys get coins for the arcade," suguru says and you’re grateful he’s taking control of the chaotic situation and bringing your thoughts back to the present.

“’toruuu~ can you get me a vodka tonic?” the girl asks in a grating high pitched voice that takes everything in you to not make another face at her. god, where’s all this animosity coming from anyway?

“yes, princess,” satoru replies, pulling her close and squeezing her tight. you don’t dare cast your eyes down in fear of catching him squeezing something else, too.

you shake it off, trying to ignore every single excruciating detail your brain is making you pay attention to at this place. and yes, you agree, maybe you should’ve taken it easy when you decided to down an entire can of white claw at the pregame, but it’s far too late to lament about that during this time of the night. things are practically getting started, so you snap out if it, and do your best to focus on grabbing coins and finding someone to play dance dance revolution with you for the rest of night.

you and riko decline to have any drinks, while shoko and utahime both decide to share a moscow mule (”i won’t be able to sleep if i have an entire drink!” utahime says, which prompts satoru to tease her about being old even though she's just three years older than all of you). reluctantly, you look at the girl satoru is with and ask if she wants to join you and the girls to grab coins for the arcade, and she looks at you like you just called her a slur.

“oh…ummm…no? i’ll be getting my drink with satoru?” she says, ending all of her responses with a question.

you’re not sure how to match her energy, so you just nod, and wave to the boys before catching up with your girls.

“jeez, what’s her problem?” riko turns back to you and gives you an apologetic look.

“satoru really knows how to fuckin’ pick ‘em,” shoko groans. unlike riko and utahime, you, shoko, and suguru have known satoru since high school and, as a result, unfortunately gotten used to the kind of girls satoru tends to sleep with: conventionally hot, a little bit not there, and kind of a bitch.

you all giggle as you exchange coins for the arcade games, ranting about miscellaneous parts of the barcade before heading back to the bar to meet up with the boys, who already have their drinks in hand, and are joined by nanami and haibara. suguru, nanami, and haibara are already halfway done with their bottles of sapporo, while satoru is whispering something in the girl’s ear as she giggles and sips her vodka tonic.

“okay!” satoru clasps his hands together. “who wants to watch me beat sugu’s ass in street fighter?!” he’s met with silence from the group and is about to say something before he’s interrupted by nanami.

“me and haibara are gonna go upstairs and get a pool table…” nanami says, sounding almost bored.

“it’ll be fun! i invited some girls from the line outside to join us!” haibara chirps.

“what? you just met random girls outside? and you invited them to play pool with you? and they said yes?!” satoru is bewildered by haibara’s game, unable to believe he could just simply ask girls to hang out with them and they’d say yes.

“it’s actually not that hard if you have a good personality, you know?” you say, handing haibara a couple of your coins for the pool table.

everyone erupts in laughter at this except for satoru and his girl of the night.

“toru~ i think you have a sexy personality.” she gives a quick kiss to satoru’s neck. for some reason, everything she says sounds like a long exaggerated moan, and you find yourself biting your lip, trying not to laugh.

“personalities can’t be sexy though, can they?” utahime ponders, her voice littered with a hint of sardonicism. you, riko, and utahime both lock eyes and suppress a giggle. okay, maybe you should stop. actually, you know you should stop because you don’t know this girl and for all you know, she probably is very nice and you both just got off on the wrong foot, but satoru? satoru is always fair (and easy) game.

“okay, c’mon what is this? the satoru hate club?” satoru pouts and sighs.

“i think i might join you guys for some pool. i used to love playing with kuroi when i was younger.” riko smiles and looks up at suguru, and he doesn’t even think twice before agreeing. satoru’s face drops at the betrayal of his best friend leaving their barcade tradition for a girl (even though satoru has done this to suguru multiple times before). suguru gives him a look that screams “shut up”, but satoru doesn’t care.

“wait, what nooo! sugu, you have to play like at least a couple rounds of street fighter and then mario kart and then -” satoru’s objections are interrupted by haibara.

“that’s fine. you guys all go and play, and i’ll shoot a text when a table is ready for us!” haibara offers, soothing satoru’s childlike temper tantrum.

“then it’s settled!” satoru leads the seven of you down to the arcade, which also happens to be closer to the dancefloor, so the music is getting progressively louder and louder, the lights are flashing more chaotically, and people are drunker and sloppier. your boots are sticking to the floor, which grosses you out and you make a mental note to wash the soles at some point this weekend. god knows what could be on the floor of this place.

satoru easily beats everyone (including you - especially you - because you are never good at fighting games and he beats you so embarrassingly easily) in the group in street fighter, earning him an obnoxious and sloppy kiss from his girl of night, which you realize now you actually don’t know the name of. as everyone shuffles to play mario kart, you tap satoru and ask for it in a low voice, hoping she can’t hear.

“uhh…i actually don’t know. maybe it’s…mia? let’s go with mia.” satoru makes a face, knowing this is low even for him, and that earns him a moderately painful jab in the rib cage from your elbow.

you also kind of suck at mario kart, but you enjoy playing it more than street fighter. lucky for everyone, suguru emerges as the winner of the grand prix, allowing everyone to have a break from satoru’s constant gloating. you all move from donkey kong to killer queen (your team wins but you think it’s because satoru carried for you) to pac-man to random capcom legacy games. you don’t care that you’re losing most of the games, you’re having too much fun shouting at satoru for cheating and getting assists from utahime and shoko. and just as you’re all about to head to the game you're looking forward to playing the most (the game you know you would smoke everyone at), haibara finally shoots a group text to all of you.

haibara: pool table’s ready in 5!!! and the girls actually made it wtf!!! :))

you think it’s cute how haibara never uses less than 3 exclamation marks in his texts.

“oh shoot, okay, let’s quickly play dance dance revolution and then go?” shoko says, walking faster to approach the game, only to be met with a significantly long line. her face drops as she turns to you, and your heart softens at how much she seems to care that you get play dance dance revolution. “shit, okay…”

“maybe we can play pool first and then come back?” utahime suggests. “the line might be shorter too…”

“guys, it’s fine.” you put your hands up jokingly as a sign of defeat and smile earnestly. you won’t lie to yourself: you do really want to play dance dance revolution, but it’s not a big deal - there’s always a long line for the really popular games. “i think i’m too drunk to properly beat your asses at it, anyway.” you lie. you could beat their asses at this game even if you were half asleep, but you don’t want your friends to worry you’re not having fun and you’ve always been a go with the flow type of girl, anyway.

as everyone descends up the stairs, you overhear mia whisper to satoru something out of pocket that really tests the threshold of your patience. “honestly, dance dance revolution is kinda stupid, anyway.”

you are willing to really overlook a lot of things that went awry tonight, but this bitch makes it really fucking hard to do that, and you suddenly do not want to play pool if she’s going to be there, even if makes you look difficult. thankfully for you, you’re not the only one who wants to skip out on pool.

“hey, uh, you guys go ahead. i think me and ‘hime are gonna check out the photo booth and we might order some bar snacks. someone has the munchies.” she teases, poking utahime’s cheek playfully and she blushes under the blacklight and swats her hand away.

“i might follow you guys, if that’s okay…” you shoot shoko and utahime an apologetic look for interrupting their alone time, but they don’t seem to care one bit.

mia turns to satoru. “i’ve got some girlfriends upstairs too waiting for me so i’ll come with.” her voice is sickeningly sweet, and you think to yourself that of course someone with a sickening sweet tooth like satoru gojo would gravitate towards her.

“alright, we’ll see you guys soon then!” riko waves, and you watch suguru, satoru, mia, and riko disappear up the staircase.

as soon as they disappear, you whip around almost immediately to the duo. “hey sorry, i just didn’t want to play pool and i needed an excuse to latch on to. you guys feel free to whatever you want!”

“we can wait in line while one of us orders some food or something?” utahime says, and you suppress a giggle, knowing full well all she wants right now are some mozzarella sticks (you can’t count the number of times the three of you made late night trips to the drive-thru for them).

you wave your hand, and give them an earnest look. “no, i’m being serious. the line is ridiculously long. i’ll probably go to the bar and grab a drink. you guys go, utahime already has some drool coming down her mouth.”

she immediately goes to touch her mouth, only to realize you were joking, and she scowls, causing both you and shoko to laugh. “ugh, you guys are sometimes worse than gojo!”

shoko feigns offense, before grasping her hand, bidding goodbye to you, and heading off to the bar food area and photo booth.

the music is still so loud and you feel the bass deep within your chest. you’re grateful the music that the DJ is playing tonight is not that bad. there’s quite a few people on the dance floor that’s kinda making you want to join in, but not before having a little bit of liquid courage. just a little bit, you tell yourself, not wanting to go overboard. you approach the bar and you somehow become very aware that you’re the only person at the here on your own, and you feel awfully lonely.

it’s probably because of a lot of things, but certainly the fact that you sent a vulnerable photo of yourself to toji and was met with zero response (you just checked so you know he still hasn’t seen your message) isn’t helping. you feel so small and a bit embarrassed at your past self, despite knowing that he might simply be busy on a friday night. you’re never one to feel forlorn like this, but you came into this night to find some company and now it seems like all your friends have company but you don’t. what’s more is that the insecurity of it all is manifesting in your damp hands, and you awkwardly don’t know what to do with them once you approach the table. the signature tells of anxiety settle in you, and your armpits are slowly getting more and more damp, until you can’t bare to have your shirt jacket on any longer and place it on your arm.

you haphazardly pat down your hair (you pray the humidity of this crowded place isn’t making it frizzy) as you look around, hoping to see someone you know, but all you’re met with is a sea of strangers. you want them to notice you, but at the same time, you’re absolutely terrified of making proper eye contact with any of them.

your thoughts are interrupted by the bartender, handing you a frosty pink…slushy?

“s’from that fella o’er there.”

you have to really listen to understand his thick irish accent, but you follow his hands to see the stranger a couple seats down from the bar nodding at you with a slight grin.

“oh, thanks, i guess. umm…what is this drink?” you ask, quizzically looking at the oddly colored drink and then back at the guy who bought it for you.

“drink o’ the day, ma’am. strawberry ‘n’ cream wid rum. quite grand.”

you thank him and take a small sip of the drink. you almost recoil and dry heave just by how strong it takes, and you wonder how it’s possible to have a drink this bad (or strong) on the menu. you quickly fake a pained smile and make eye contact with the stranger, as you quickly decide that maybe going upstairs and playing pool suddenly might not be such a bad idea after all. you’re trying to be swift and polite about taking your drink and leaving the bar, but you're not fast enough as you are met with the stranger blocking your way. oh god, does he have tattoos on his face? what a fucking boner kill.

you give him a polite smile. ugh, he’s not even that cute. “sorry, thanks for the drink but i have to go.”

“oh, shame. you’re really pretty, by the way. i’m sukuna.” he flashes a smile at you and if it weren’t for the dark lighting in the barcade, you could swear his teeth almost look like fangs.

“nice to meet ya. thanks for the drink.” you try side step around him, but he moves his body just in time to block you from leaving.

“whatcha doin’ here all alone? you’re way too pretty to be here all by your lonesome...” he coos, and it grates your skin.

maybe you’re being reckless, but you’re not that terrified of him; you’re frankly a bit annoyed and inconvenienced. you feel safe knowing your friends are nearby and it’s later in the night now so the barcade is way more crowded with plenty of people (read: witnesses) so you know this guy can’t do that many things out of pocket. the most he’ll probably do is say some stupid shit that makes you want to spill your drink on him.

“i’m not here all alone, i’m about to meet up with my boyfriend.” the lie comes so easily to you after living your entire 26 years of life as a woman.

“shame. your boobs are really nice, just FYI. i could just-” he doesn’t get to finish, as the ice cold slushy drink he bought for you collides with his face and the startling gasp he makes causes him to snort some of the (strong) alcoholic drink up his nose. you use his discomposure to finally escape him and beeline upstairs, but not before turning around, making eye contact with him and flipping him off.

okay, you know that was a bit rash of you, and perhaps a bit stupid and unsafe (you hear it all in suguru’s voice, too) but god, you are so fucking annoyed. what? a girl can’t even have her lana del rey, fleabag-esque moody melt down in peace without someone coming in to interrupt it? maybe you should stop drinking that god awful slushy, too. you defend yourself from inner monologue by deciding it’s already three quarters of the way gone, so it doesn’t even matter anymore.

you spot your friends and mia playing an intense game of pool down the dimly lit mezzanine and walk over to them. haibara and nanami greet you with smiles, and that’s how you infer it must be a close game. you stand next to riko and suguru, who update you that it’s them and haibara versus satoru, mia, and nanami. except mia wasn’t really playing more than she was just chatting with her friends next to suguru. currently, satoru’s team was losing.

“nanami said yes to being on a team with gojo?!” you loudly whisper incredulously. looking over at nanami, he looks like he wants to die, having been separated from his trusted partner, haibara.

“he didn’t really have a choice. satoru picked the teams and you know he loves nanami.” suguru explains, putting an ironic tone when he said the word “love”.

you notice it’s satoru’s turn, and his blue eyes are intensely focused, his body bent over with the cue sliding between his long slender fingers. the top two buttons of his shirt are unbuttoned and his sleeves are rolled up. you swallow hard as you notice the veins on his on hands and arms, suddenly overcome with a desire to have those arms be wrapped around you. you try hard not to think of it, but you think of how his fingers would feel inside you.

you sigh irritably at your horny thoughts. you hate the lack of closeness you and satoru had throughout the night, and not just because your horniness was once again ignited with the disgusting slushy drink.

a split second before satoru hits the cue ball, he catches your eyes and you grin supportively and mouth a quick “good luck”. satoru gets 3 balls in pockets. he raises his arms in victory and looks at you and winks and is about to say something to you until mia cheers out an obnoxious scream of victory and jumps on satoru to kiss him deeply. he returns the favor, albeit rather hastily.

“no kissing! no kissing until your turn is over!” suguru points and them, looking peeved. “she’s been literally tonguing him after every turn and-”

“it’s so fucking annoying like wait until his turn is over at least?” riko completes suguru’s sentence with ease. oh god, they must’ve been going through it this entire time. also, cute.

“i really am not trying to be mean but i don’t think i can even be near her…” suguru says apologetically, wiping the sweat off his forehead. you give a sympathetic pout and place yourself between suguru and mia and mia’s friends. it’s the least you can do for your favorite up and coming couple.

bad idea. you forget how mean girls can get sometimes.

“oh my god, y/n, right? come sit down next to us!” mia approaches you and sits down in the booth next to the pool table. she pats the seat next to her. you say hello and reluctantly take the seat, expecting the worst.

“wow, your hair…is it always so…poofy like that? i love what you’re doing with it, babe.”

you’re miffed and don’t even know how to answer what mia just asked. you don’t even get to because she just continues.

“so how do you know satoru? i just wanted to clear the air with you about some stuff. i feel like i got some, like, really jealous energy from you at the pregame when me and him were, like, making out? remember? when you threw your drink at me?”

“uhh…i threw my drink at satoru-”

“i’m sure you did but like, it could’ve hit me too. and honestly, i’ve been talking to satoru this whole week and, like, i just don’t think he finds, like, desperation hot, you know?”

you’re at a loss for words. desperation? you’ve heard enough. first sukuna hitting on you, and now this? you smile at her with spite and quiet patience, as you get up from the seat.

“i’m gonna leave.” you choose your next words carefully. “you’re kind of a bitch, also.” you leave your empty drink behind and in your peripheral, you see a confused satoru watching you leave and taking your seat next to mia.

you put on your jacket and you’re not exactly sure where you’re going. the barcade is huge, and if the feelings of loneliness weren’t conspicuous before, they are unmistakable on you now. your palms are slippery and you figure you maybe just need some water, but not before you slip away from your friends and find an isolated row of tables in front of the mezzanine. you figure you can maybe get some peace and quiet here as you try to sober up. according to your phone, it’s only 10:37pm, so you have plenty of time before you have to go to bed. alone.

staring at the DJ screen, you chuckle to yourself at the absurd anime edits they are playing on the screen that’s supposed to relate to some reference that’s been going viral on tiktok. you idly stare at the DJ screen, letting your train of thoughts take you far away from this place.

you’re not sure how long you sit here by yourself but you’re brazenly brought back to the barcade by a familiar voice and an ice cold glass cup touching your cheek, causing you to yelp in surprise.

“where’d ya go?” you look up to see satoru hovering over you, holding a glass of ice water. “move over.” he takes a seat next to you without even asking and hands you the cold glass of water.

you take a sip and coldness of the liquid jolts your mind awake and now, you’re really back at the barcade, mentally and physically. and also, has water always tasted this good? you take a sip, and another, until you’re half way done chugging the glass and your throat is in pain from the cold.

“good girl.” satoru murmurs, putting his arms around you and gently rubbing your back in circles. normally, this would make your stomach do cart wheels, but you’re just too tired for all that. “how are we feelin’?”

you’re trying to answer his question but…oh god? why does your throat hurt? is it the cold water you just drank? no. no, it’s because you want to cry. oh god, nope. you cannot make it one of those nights where you get too drunk and cry. you refuse.

“m’feelin’…sad…if m’being honest…” your words are slurred as you look up at satoru and take another sip of your water.

“damn. that sucks. wanna go downstairs?”

the constricting feeling in your throat immediately dissipates, and is replaced by annoyance. wow, he responds with that? maybe it’s a good idea you won’t fuck him tonight.

he doesn’t wait for an answer as he gets up and helps you out of your seat and guides you downstairs. you interlock your arms with his for support so you don’t trip, and you’re perceptive enough to feel the viselike grip satoru has on your arms as you both descend the stairs.

“what are we even doing here?” your throat hurts even more as you have shout even louder on the ground floor due to the higher levels of music.

satoru continues to lead you down the floor into the arcade and looks back at you confused. “dontcha wanna play dance dance revolution?”

this makes you open your eyes wide in anticipation and excitement. no way. “what, really? the line is still so fuckin’ long though…”

“i’ll deal with it.” satoru tells you wait while he goes to the front of the line. you can’t exactly hear what the hell he’s saying to the people up front, but you do see him flash his signature pearly whites and flutter his bright blue eyes. he meets your eyes and motions excitedly for you to come to the front, and you hurry there, thinking if you wasted any time, you might never get to play dance dance revolution for the rest of the night.

“still got coins?” he asks, as you nod and hand him whatever was left in your purse.

“did you just flirt with the people in front to let us cut them?”

“maybe.”

that makes you uncharacteristically giggle. you want to pick a fight about how that’s so unethical to other people in line who have waited a long time to play, but you’re feeling a bit selfish tonight. satoru squeezes your hand tightly and you squeeze back as the game starts.

you’re not entirely sure how long you both play dance dance revolution, but you can’t remember a time where you’ve enjoyed playing this game more. satoru always says the funniest things in the middle of a game, and because you’re still a bit drunk, you laugh really hard at it and it just spurs him to continue making awful one-liners. by the end of however many rounds you’ve played, satoru is completely wiped. he’s sweaty, breathing heavy, and his lanky yet sturdy build is leaning against the railing.

“how the fuck are you this good at dance dance revolution?” he says in between deep breaths.

“it’s not made for people with long legs,” you tease.

“’kay, one more. this time i’ll really-”

“alright, you both need to leave this game station. immediately.” you both turn to find a club bouncer practically escorting the both of you off the platform.

“we weren’t even playing for long…” you start.

“you played long enough that several attendees complained about the both of you. please remove yourself from the station for the rest of the night. i’ll be watching so don’t try and go back.”

you and satoru stare at the bouncer in silence as he disappears in the back. soon as he’s out of satoru’s line of sight, the swears start rolling in.

“what the fuck? who the fuck was that? who does he think telling us what to do? honestly, y/n, give me the green light, i’m literally a foot taller than him. i’ll kick his-”

you don’t wait for him to finish his sentence and you don’t really care for him to either. you grab his hands and pull him to the dance floor, where coincidentally, a remix of “murder on the dance floor” starts to play. satoru doesn’t question it and matches your energy. he’s always good at matching your energy and being on the same wavelength as you. you clearly have more dancing energy left, and you want to dance with him. you let the music guide the both of you to the center of the floor.

the purple and blue dim lights illuminate both of your faces and both of you can’t really recall if there are other people around you. it’s just you and him.

you turn around and sway your hips and satoru takes a risk and puts his arms on them and pulls you closer to him. when you let him, he full sends it, and pulls your back (and coincidentally, your ass) flush against his front. you have some sense in you to not grind into one of your best friends, so you purposefully try to keep the movement to a minimum while still allowing your body to move freely to the beat.

satoru is trying hard to not get hard, and failing miserably. thankfully, you don’t notice anything, except in the back of your mind, you wish he would’ve kept his keys and wallet in his back pocket instead of his front. satoru can’t stand you on him anymore unless he wants to be stuck in a rock and (quite literally) a hard place, so he spins you back around so that you’re facing him.

you laugh and squeal at being spun. “do it again. spin me again.”

he spins you again and you laugh again. this time, he pulls the front of your body against him and sways his body with yours. you take note of his bashful smile and how his orbs have taken on a darker hue. the song melts into a slower, lo-fi city pop remix, and you feel like you can finally talk above the music now.

you try to open your mouth but you keep on giggling.

“what? what’s so funny?” satoru joins you, trying to hold back his giggles.

“i…i don’t know, i just love dancing, i think?”

“are you still sad?”

the question catches you off guard. “uh, no. i'm not. i’m glad we’re dancing and…i dunno why i said i was sad before.” you trail off, genuinely trying to remember. “i guess…maybe it was because of that pervy guy…”

immediately, satoru stops swaying and comes to a complete stop. his eyes try to make contact with yours, but your mind is still occupied with the euphoric feeling of grooving to rhythm so he has to steady your body and hold your jaw so that you’re looking directly into his now deeper blue eyes.

“what pervy guy?” you sense the genuine worry in his voice, and it snaps you out of the trance.

“wait, no sorry. it’s not a big deal, satoru. he just bought me a drink.” you hesitate to even continue, as satoru already looks upset. you swallow apprehensively, making sure to choose your next words carefully. “he just bought me a drink and, like, made weird comments about my boobs. it’s honestly kind of funny now because i dumped the drink he bought for me on him.”

satoru relaxes his grip on you upon hearing that you took care of the situation yourself, but only a little bit. his brows are still furrowed in irritation. “okay, i’m glad you’re okay…but promise me you’ll point him out if you see him, again?”

you nod, as you both let your body go back to comfortably swaying with the rhythm. “wait, where’s mia?”

satoru scoffs. “don’t bring her up, too fuckin’ clingy. also, she was being sooo bitchy to riko. and you know, suguru is finally getting some, so i can’t let a random hook up do something to fuck that up…”

you smile and shake your head. wow, so she was being a bitch to riko, too? red flag. “you know she was also being a bitch to me.”

satoru frowns. “yeah, i figured out kinda late. after you left from pool, i asked her what was up, and she was just-” satoru lifts his hands up in defeat. “she was a lot. sorry about her…”

“glad you also thought she was a bitch.”

he hums in response. the beat picks up a bit, and he spins again, and pulls your back against him for the second time that night. you both continue to sway to the beat, and you’re once again met with the uncomfortable, unshakeable, feeling down there.

it’s now or never, your body thinks before your brain has any time to process the ramifications of your actions. you’re significantly shorter than satoru, so you lift your head up and look at satoru’s face, and he smiles at you and leans closer to your face. your breath hitches at the back of your throat at the sheer lack of distance between both of your mouths. you almost chicken out. almost.

“m’horny,” you slur, pouting at satoru.

it’s satoru’s turn to choke on his words. he definitely did not hear that right. he definitely drank too much tonight, and he doesn’t know what he’s hearing or doing right now because there’s no way you said what he thinks you just said.

“w-what?”

you ignore satoru’s fumble. you whip around and put your arms around his neck, pulling him down to your level, while standing on your tippy toes. “i’m horny, satoru. i’ve been so stupidly horny this entire night because i took a stupid edible that shoko gave me and then i took that stupid shot and then-”

satoru pulls you away from the dance floor, and he’s practically running to the exit of the barcade. he doesn’t care that he’s leaving both of your friends behind because he needs to hear it again. he needs to hear you outside, where there’s no loud music, and there’s a cool breeze to wake you up from your senses. he turns to see you giggling, and he fights the urge to smile.

“okay, what’s the problem? daddy’s here to help.”

normally, this would make you annoyed, but it just makes you laugh instead.

“i said, m'horny and i dunno what to do 'bout it.” you pout, finally feeling free that you’ve let someone else know about this…issue you’ve been dealing with the whole night.

satoru grins widely. “y'came to the right person.” he cups you cheeks softly. he’s also slurring his words. “wanna go home? i’ll call an uber?”

you nod, and you pull out your phone to check your messages, and satoru does the same. you both have the same messages from the group chat:

suguru: satoru do NOT fucking come home me n riko are hangin in the living room

suguru: satoru are u reading this do NOT step a foot inside or i s2g i’ll end u w my bare hands

shoko: LMAO i’m crying also y/n - staying the nite @ hime’s :)

“i guess…uh…not sure where i’ll go but i’ll figure it out…” satoru fumbles again.

“are you stupid? you’re obviously coming back to my place? what was the other option? sleeping out on the street?” you berate satoru, sounding more like your normal self.

“wow, jeez, okay, chill woman. i missed it when you were complaining about how horny you are.” satoru says, as he puts in your address on the uber.

“i’m less horny now because you keep saying stupid shit.” you cross your arms, consequently causing your boobs to lift and almost spill out of your bralette - something satoru notices in his peripheral. he’s trying to look anywhere but your chest, but the cold breeze is nipping at your skin, causing goosebumps to rise and your nipples to get hard. satoru swallows and takes a deep breath before turning to you and taking your leather shirt jacket from you.

“put this on, you’re cold.”

“i’m not.”

“yes, you are.”

“how do you know i’m cold? hm?” satoru is getting really tired of you constantly challenging him when you’re both drunk, so he decides to be blunt about it, the same way you were blunt before about letting him know you were horny.

“because…” he gestures to your titties flippantly. “your headlights are on.” he also grabs your wrist and crosses the crosswalk, heading to the meeting point across the street from the barcade.

you arch an eyebrow. what on earth is he talking about? “what does that mean?” you say, trying to keep up with his strides. he looks back at you, and has to hold back a groan as he sees your titties bouncing up and down to match his pace and thinks the universe is playing the sickest joke on him.

“your nipples are so hard, i can see them through your bra.”

you stare at him as you both finally reach the meeting point. your mouth slowly furls into a frown your eyes widen. “it’s not a bra. it’s a bralette.”

“sorry, baby. your bralette is doing a shit job at covering your nips.”

you sigh. guess he has a point. you put on the leather jacket, but not without deciding to be extra cheeky towards him.

“my titties are so cold. you were right. i wish…” you pretend to take a dramatic sigh. “i wish someone could, like, i don’t know. i wish someone could warm them up with their hands.”

satoru wastes no time in picking up what you put down, and his palms immediately go straight to your titties. his large hands easily engulfs them, and he moves the fingers that are touching your bare skin back and forth creating a fiction that does nothing to warm you up, but it feels good at least.

“better?” satoru teases. he has a raging hard on now, so he shifts slightly in his stance to adjust himself. you hum and give a cheeky grin in response. something in your head tell you what this looks like, optics-wise, but you both don’t care. ever since the word “horny” came out of your mouth, both you and satoru have been running on the bare bones autopilot, just trying to get back to your place.

satoru keeps his hands on your chest until he spots the uber driver coming from a couple yards away, and pulls his hands away to flag them down. you frown at your chest feeling untouched, but keep your needy thoughts to yourself. you’ll have plenty of time to have satoru warm you up at home.

the uber ride feels like forever. and what’s worse is that satoru has become the chattiest passenger on earth, and it’s annoying you so much that you can’t even focus on being horny and wanting his hands on your chest or anywhere on your body. you’re not even sure what they’re talking about but you hear bits and pieces of their conversation as you stare out the window.

“i think rigatoni is a good pasta shape.”

“nahh, you gotta try cannelloni, my dude.”

“aren’t they the same?”

a loud gasp is heard and you know it’s from satoru. “don’t say that!”

“you kinda look like bob odenkirk. has anyone told you that? are you bob odenkirk? i loved you in better call saul.” this one makes you want to die from second hand embarrassment.

“i don’t know who that individual is.”

“ziti is also pretty good.”

you think you’re about to go insane with all the talk about fucking pasta shapes. you never want to see or eat pasta in your fucking life ever again after this uber ride. you’re about to burst and tell satoru to shut the fuck up (he gets so annoying and talkative when he’s drunk) when the familiar apartment complex comes into view, and you almost open the car door while it’s moving to get out of it.

“thanks for the ride, hector. i’m giving you a 5 stars, and i’m sending you a recipe for chicken and ricotta cannelloni.” satoru waves the uber driver goodbye, and turns to see you half way back to your apartment. he quickly sprints to catch up with you so he doesn’t get locked out.

“jeez, you’re so eager to get back home. what? you excited about something,” he teases, as he closes the gate behind you. you can hear the smirk in his voice and you want to either slap it or kiss it off of him, but you don’t dare look back at him.

“i need to pee, okay?”

satoru shuts up until you both get to your apartment and lock the door. he sighs and flops down on the couch, manspreading his long slender legs and arms across the couch and carpet.

“you can put something on the tv, don’t care. i’ll be back.” you quickly run to the bathroom and freshen up, and come back to see satoru watching a random episode of better call saul, and you scoff knowing exactly where this is headed.

“before you say anything…he didn’t look bob odenkirk.”

immediately satoru gets defensive. “you didn’t even see him properly. i was the one talking to him and interacting with him and it was definitely him.”

“you’re drunk.”

“so are you!”

okay, he has a point, but still. you sit on the couch next to him and pull his face to face you. “why would bob odenkirk, star of better call saul, be driving ubers on his friday nights, satoru?”

this shuts satoru up. he shifts in his seat and exits out of better call saul to the home screen, and plays some random reality tv show. meanwhile, you know it’s late, but you can’t help but check your phone one last time. you’re absolutely deflated that it’s almost midnight and you haven’t heard from toji at all. you sigh agitatedly and chuck your phone to the other side of the sofa while you stretch out your legs.

“toji still hasn’t texted you back?” satoru asks, shifting his body to face you. you mimic his actions, inching closer to him while frowning about your predicament.

“yeah, i just…i just feel stupid okay! i wish he would at least say something! i was kind of vulnerable sending that text…”

satoru sighs. he knows what he’s about to say next is so wrong, so pervy, so inappropriate, but he’s a bit drunk right now, and to be quite honest, he really wants to see this picture of you.

“can i see the text?” he asks quietly, holding his breath. he hopes he’s reading your signs correctly from the barcade. he doesn’t fumble this time.

you reach to grab your phone and unlock it. you turn the brightness up and hand the phone to satoru with the photo of your soapy titties on full display.

satoru’s breath gets stuck in his throat, and he’s choked up on words to describe, what he thinks, are the sexiest pair of titties he’s ever seen in his life. sure, he’s seen the outline of your titties through sheer t-shirts, and today he’s felt them and seen your nipples hard, but none of it beats the way they look bare and wet. god, he feels like such a perv seeing this pic of his best friend and getting wildly turned on by it.

he swallows, his breath unintentionally shallow. “toji’s a fuckin’ idiot.”

“what?”

“he’s a fucking idiot.” satoru says louder. and he believes it from the bottom of his fucked up horny heart. he looks up at you and meets your eyes. “if i got this from you, i would respond in a heartbeat. don’t give a fuck where i am or what i’m doin’.”

your breath starts getting heavy, and you feel your heart beating faster. why can’t you hear him properly? better get closer.

“what would you say?” your voice is barely a whisper now, your eyes are drilled into his. his once bright blue eyes are as dark as the murky sea now.

he scoffs lightly, and you smell the beer in his breath. “i’d fuckin’ beat off to it, that’s what i’d do. i’d fuckin’ paint my sheets white.”

you suck in a deep breath loudly. god, he sounds so vulgar. you’ve never heard him talk like this, and it feels like you’ve unlocked a new side to satoru you’ve never seen before. the adrenaline of the alcohol combined with the wetness between your legs makes your head spin and heart race.

satoru edges closer to you, ready to make a proposition you can’t refuse. “i have an idea.” he inches even closer and places his hands on your chin and bring it inches away from his wet lips. “let’s…let’s kiss. to make toji jealous. teach him a lesson. show him what he could’ve gotten tonight if he had the balls to message back.” sober satoru would’ve laughed after saying something this nonsensical and absurd, but drunk satoru can only think of shoving his tongue down your throat (and other places).

your answer doesn’t involve words. you close the pathetically small gap between your lips and his and it feels like you’ve locked on to something you can’t ever let go of.

satoru grabs your jaw and pulls you even closer to him, if that’s even possible. he leads the kiss and opens your mouth for his tongue to enter and explore uncharted territory. you let him, and your tongues fight against each other for dominance, and you lose every time. and it drives you fucking crazy.

you moan into his mouth as satoru straddles you on top of his lap. you feel his hard on, and you subconsciously start to grind your hips on him, moaning even more repetitively. your short skirt rides up, leaving nothing to imagination as your ass is on full display, which satoru takes full advantage of by kneading it and pulling you even closer to his hips. your moans get more shaky as he touches your ass and lightly slaps it, earning a squeal from you that gets drowned in satoru’s mouth.

“so fuckin’ needy.” satoru places open mouthed kisses on your neck and as your throaty gasps overpower the reality garbage playing in the background. he’s right - you’re so needy. you’ve been wanting this the whole night.

you miss the lack of contact of his lips on yours so you grab a fistful of his ivory hair and reconnect your mouths together. he pushes your back onto the sofa and you whine at the loss of friction on your clothed core. you immediately palm his raging hard on and satoru groans, his eyes closed and face flushed, which spurs you even more.

he grabs your hand away from his hard member, and places it above your head. he grabs the wrist of your other hand and hold them both with ease above your head while he continues to kiss you deeply. so this is what the other girls are getting when they kiss satoru, you think to yourself in the middle of all the ecstacy.

satoru uses his free hands to roughly pull your bralette down, and you hear a tear as continues to expose your titties. you break free from his lips and moan as he uses his hands to palm your titties.

“h-hey! you ripped my bralette!” you say between breathy sighs.

“i’ll buy you another one.” he doesn’t even bother to look up or sound apologetic about it, as he uses his long fingers to pinch and play with your hard and sensitive nub, causing your to moan wantonly.

“f-fuck~” you need him on your mouth again. you can’t get enough of his tongue inside you, and you pathetically beg for it. “please~ please kiss me again, satoru~”

who’s satoru to deny such a simple request? his mouth meets yours again and you playfully bite his lower lip and giggle. it doesn’t last long when he squeezes and starts to roughly play with your bare titties again, encapsulating your moans in his mouth.

you’re not sure how long you’re kissing satoru. you’re kissing so much your mouths are numb and swollen and red. satoru doesn’t dare go any further than just kissing you and playing with your titties.

you want him to fuck you. and you know he wants to fuck you, too. but your eyelids are getting so heavy from kissing him, and satoru’s fervor is also mellowing. you both are resorting to small pecks and quick kisses between soft giggles and playful bites.

eventually, satoru moves from your lips to your jawline, and leaves soft wet kisses ever inch of your neck down to the center of your chest. he wants to kiss your hard perky nipples and titties, but he sides with his better judgement to not take it further than just kisses — he’s already been so selfish playing with your soft titties with his hands.

you’re both too tired and quite frankly, on the last legs of your intoxication to get up and go to your bed. you also don’t want to leave satoru’s embrace even though it’s crowded and every joint is touching him.

similarly, satoru has no intention of letting your leave his side, your warmth more soothing than any blanket he could’ve used. you both lull yourselves into a slumber, the rising of both your chests being the rhythm you drift off to.

in between your heated makeout session with satoru and falling asleep, you don’t notice the texts that toji sends you in response to your picture from earlier today that you were obsessing about so much. you don’t hear the vibration of your phone when he calls you, demanding an answer for the tent in his pants right before he’s trying to fall asleep.

and you most definitely don’t notice you accidentally accepting the call while satoru was straddling you in his lap.

[anundyingfidelity]

I'M A RUIN — Soldier Boy (Part II)

Series summary: After the events of the Seven Tower, you present Grace Mallory a new secret project you're working on already to develop a cure to Compound V. The only problem? You need Soldier Boy for that.

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x female reader.

Word count: 2.5k.

Warnings for series: set after S3 (spoilers), some OOC!Ben, some depressed!Ben, angst, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, slow-burn, language, PTSD, reader has Compound V (she's no Vought supe tho), Soldier Boy being an usual asshole, reader is a fucking liar.

Warnings on this chapter: Ben being a misogynist, talks about masturbation and porn, killing threats, Ben's POV in general is a red flag, death.

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

get yourself in the taglist!

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII

tags: @k-slla

GEN MASTERLIST! — SERIES MASTERLIST!

Part II: Silence is Peace

The next day arrived fast, and again, you found yourself walking ready to have a conversation with the supe locked in the facility. A part of you was surprised he didn't try to escape yet, but Ben, on the other hand, was just letting things flow at the moment.

The heavy, metal door opened to let you in. The supe caught by surprise seeing you coming inside full of confidence at this time in the morning. A couple of armed men in black uniforms followed behind as they settled down some furniture in the empty area of the room: two small sofas and a coffee table.

His arrogant self knew those guns wouldn't tear a single hair off of him, but hey, he understood you needed to feel safe. So meanwhile, he decided to play along. He remained still by the bathroom door as you came closer.

"I didn't request that," he said once you stood face to face.

"Oh, I know. I did, it's for your therapy," you smiled, tugging the bag on your shoulder. The armed men finished decorating the cell, and they left with a loud thud of the door being closed behind their backs. "There's been a small change of plans. I will come by every day for one hour. Anything you want you will ask me first and if I approve, then I will bring it to you."

He smirked. Like if he needed to be bossed around by a fucking woman, he thought. "You sure have the balls to stand up on me like that."

"Like I said, I want to help you," you replied, making your way and sitting down on a sofa. "Please," you requested him with a hand to do the same and he followed with curiosity. You put the bag on the coffee table, taking out a notebook, pens, a folder, and a small zip bag containing the only thing he asked from you the day before. You left his reefer on the coffee table, putting the folder in your lap as you waited for him with a smile on your face he found unsettling.

Ben still didn't buy you or your intentions, but he sat down on the opposite sofa nonetheless. You had brought him something he asked from you, something he wanted and would calm him down for a little. Hopefully it wasn't going to be that bad. He only had to put up with the game of doctor-patient. In the back of his mind, he was also grateful you dropped the stupid white coat at the same time he found your attempt to fix him ridiculous. He didn't need to get fixed.

"Your guards ain't hurting me with those guns, you know that," Ben started.

"We have to try," you shrugged. "And you're still here, that has to mean something."

He rolled his eyes. Of fucking course he had to stay. There were a lot of questions in his head. He had to settle down for a moment. Things were different in the world, he needed to learn about today's tech and get a fucking good plan to get away with his shit. Who would he get to kill first? Still thinking about it. How would he escape? Probably could use some help to keep a low profile. Could you be that help, being the only human contact he figured would have from now on? Maybe.

"So how are you feeling? Did you have some sleep?" you asked.

"I slept enough, spent the whole fucking night jerking off," he spat. "That TV of yours now does have good porn some hours in the day."

With wide eyes, you wrote down after his answer.

"Alright. But tell me, how are you feeling?" you pushed, your smile long gone and replaced with a serious face locking your gaze to his own.

"Great, never been fucking better" he smirked and you shifted on your seat.

His green eyes started checking you all over for a second. The pencil skirt hugged your legs perfectly and the blouse was tight enough to show off the size of your breasts. The clothes yelling that you were expensive and valuable for the CIA, and most important, to Mallory. Soon he sensed the discomfort emanating from you as his gaze returned to your face. God, he loved doing that, but you sure were daring to get locked inside a room with him alone.

"You can tell me the truth, you know," you said.

"I can easily break your neck and explode this shithole if I want to," he spat back.

"You won't do that. You had the chance yesterday, today even, and yet here you are."

He thought you sounded so sure about that. Ben held your gaze. Neither of you dare to break eye contact. It was like you were challenging him to something he wasn't aware of just yet. He didn't like that, but he remained there, breathing deeply with a strong look on his face. You were right though, and he realised could find you a good usage besides the obvious fucking use for pretty girls like you. He might have missed a good fuck for 40 years but the little common sense on the back of his mind told him the porn channel was enough for now.

"Listen, I know you're not a bad guy," the words fell softly from your lips. "I know you didn't mean to harm those people in Midtown... And in order to help you I could use some information on how you feel every time the blast comes-"

He stood up abruptly, strong enough to move the sofa he was sitting some feet away behind his back and yelled aggressively.

"Fuck off, bitch. What the fuck do you know about me? I don't trust your kind and you're making my threat sound like a great plan now.

You held his gaze as he made his way towards you. You were a prey in his cage, but even if you were scared, he didn't sense any sign of it. Ben's big frame towered you, standing just inches away from the couch you sat on. The space was enough for him to kill you with only one hand but you never moved or flinched a second.

"If you touch me, just a single hair on my scalp, you're fucked."

"C'mon sweetheart, you're no match for me," he mocked with a smirk on his face.

"Novichok definitely is."

He tightened his fists with his lips on a straight line, and his heartbeat increased at the mention of that fucking poison. Meanwhile, you just sat down looking at him with a blank face and innocent eyes. For a moment, he was tempted to just kill you but he forced himself to calm the fuck down. He didn't want to black out again, he certainly did not want to become a fugitive. If he was going to do something, it had to be done well.

"Soldier Boy, it's okay," you got on your feet. His eyes followed your moves. "It's fine if you don't want to talk to me. I can't force you to."

He saw a strange sparkle in your eyes. Were you pitying him? He didn't need that. And when he said nothing, then you continued.

"You accepted the deal, and that includes therapy to help you get out of your trauma. And sooner or later, you have to talk to me," you explained, he felt like a fucking child being scolded.

"You want to fucking help me and spray me with Novichok at the same time," he groaned.

"We have to take our precautions. But trust me. I’d rather not use that on you, I prefer other ways."

"This is fucking crap," he mumbled through his teeth.

He watched you making your way towards the book shelf, leaning down to grab a couple of books. He took in the curve of your ass as you knelt, and he wondered if you were doing all that little show on purpose to test him. His jaw clenched once again at the thought of being played with false promises and a cure to his memories.

"I can leave, but I will come tomorrow," you tossed two books on the coffee table: one about PTSD, the other one about new technology for him to start educating himself on that. "Start reading those and write down in the notebook anything you have to say. It can be about the books, your thoughts, your feelings... Anything you want. I don't have to know unless you want me to."

If looks could kill, you were already dead. He still didn't trust you. He didn't understand completely why a stupid psychiatrist of the CIA wanted him to go through rehab. You were a woman, for fucks sake. Psychiatrists were old, wise, rich men back in his days, not expensive sluts.

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. "You're lucky I'm trying hard not to crush your bones right now, pretty thing."

"At least you're trying, that's improvement," you smiled cockily, pointing at his chest with a finger and you took your bag and belongings together, as if he didn't threaten to kill you like three times in the same conversation. "I will leave you now. Have a good lunch, Soldier Boy."

"Time of death 9:41 a.m."

The sound of the monitor disturbed your senses as the voice announced all over the place the death of yet another supe. You watched through the windows as two lab assistants ran inside the chamber to take out the lifeless body of the woman who had given her life to volunteer and assist the program. Anything for the cure, you remember her voice saying, even after she was warned about the possible effects. The worst of them being death. The contract stipulated it clearly and you told her to think twice before agreeing to take the third version of the Anti-V, although she hesitated a lot before joining.

You breathed out. The formula needed improvement, quickly. How many corpses had they taken out of there? You lost count already. You ordered Bianca, your young assistant, to note down all the details one day after the second death of a supe you witnessed, and for her to count them as necessary and at all cost. Arms folded on your chest, your jaw clenched, losing hope and feeling despair running through your spine. The discomfort of what had to be done to find a cure sometimes was too much of a burden. But sacrifices had to be done.

And speaking about sacrifices, you knew you had to get into Soldier Boy's head as soon as possible. The few other sessions you tried to talk to him were useless. The sixth one being today before lunch. A part of you was growing tired of faking it and pretending to be a psychiatrist, it really wasn't your field but you knew how to be one after many sessions, research, and medication on your own. Grace had taken care of your training years ago and this was just another mission with a huge impact and objective in mind: destroy Vought and Homelander, and then provide the cure to supes who didn't want their powers and give them the chance to live a normal life. People like you needed the cure, but first things first.

"Doc, the analysis of Blaze is updated," Bianca said, giving you the tablet to check the information on the supe that was collected.

"Thanks."

Blaze, or Electra Richards was her real name, was a low-profile supe for some time, and you had a secret track of those like her with some help. These kinds of supes didn't really represent a threat to Vought, so it was kind of easy to contact them and give them a possible solution with a warning written all over the place. When Electra was contacted, she had to think about it but eventually said yes. She was young and brave, but she never wanted powers. She had superhuman strength and healed in minutes, seconds even, her bones were indestructible, and when your people ran the proper tests on her she was healthy as hell. Pity that her body wasn't enough to take in the injection of the new Anti-V prototype.

You read the last notes your assistant typed on the supe's profile.

Cause of death: sudden cardiac arrest caused by ventricular fibrillation; failure in electrical signaling within the heart.

You couldn't continue like this, not anymore. Nine months and nothing seemed to work out. Some supes died, some of them quit the program, and you didn't really blame them for it. The failures were growing bigger than the small steps close to creating the final antidote. The process was becoming an endless trial and error. With a tired face and a sigh, you left the tablet on a desk and walked out making your way to your office.

You took out your cell phone and dialed Grace, walking around the room worriedly. You needed to vent or talk. Anything. And gladly, she picked up by the third ring.

"Is everything okay?" she asked on the other line. She knew you too well.

"I- No, it isn't. But you already know that," you breathed. "Another supe died on trial today. I don't know how many we have-" your voice cut off abruptly and you sighed, composing yourself after a moment. "We keep losing a lot of people..."

Grace exhaled. "It's part of the job. It's your project, you know it was coming when I approved to do this."

"That makes it even worse, you're not helping me," you replied with a playful tone. "I've been thinking- I would like to try the cure."

"No. We need you to focus on this."

"And when I get him, when I get Soldier Boy's blood? He already takes powers of supes with the blast. Should be easier."

"He's your safest option for now. You'll find a way to get it, I trust you. But don't make stupid and hurried decisions, just wait for the right moment," the lady scolded. You smiled a little, like if she was watching you. "About that, how's he doing? Is he cooperating?"

"Not at all, that's my other problem," you fell back on your chair ungracefully, your back hurting at the thought of seeing him again that day. "I am trying to get him to talk, even using my cards of dressing up like I'm a fucking slut with tight skirts and all, but he's really backing up. Besides he's a fucking dick," your words made Grace chuckle for a bit.

"All supes we have dealt with are dicks, especially Vought. But Y/N, you got this," her words attempted to make you feel better. "This is one of our best options to take them down for once. I know you've been working on this way long before you talked to me, and that's the reason I know it's gonna work, doing whatever it takes."

"Thank you, Grace," you mumbled from your heart. Disappointing her was not on your list, and you hoped it won't happen anytime soon. So you switched the topic of the conversation. "And how have you been?"

[crappymixtape]

eyes half shut

hawkins high alumni always run the end of year carnival to help raise funds for the school and steve is always in charge of the alumni basketball game, but this year they’re trying out a kissing booth and who better to headline than steve harrington? | ( 3.9k – a little angst, a little fluff, kinda enemies to kinda lovers, steve x you, steve x reader )

E Y E S H A L F S H U T 🎶 dream boy, savannah conley

“Now, please don’t be late, Steven. Jason’s done with his shift right at seven and we don’t want to keep people waiting.” Miss Click tapped on the clipboard in her hand before hanging it back up on the nail hammered into the wall of the booth, “Robin Buckley volunteered to cover the cash register for your shift too! You remember Robin.”

Steve felt his jaw tick with irritation as he tried to hide the grimace on his face, his old History teacher practically beaming at the very mention of his friend. Of course Robin volunteered to run the register. She just wanted a front row seat for what was sure to be the most humiliating night of his life.

“Great. Robin Buckley. A real grade A student,” he said with a forced smile, jamming his hands into the pockets of his Levi’s.

“I thought so too! Such an attentive pupil,” Miss Click agreed before checking her watch. “Oh dear, I need to go check on the cake walk. I’ll see you back here in a few hours, I’m sure we’ll have record donations!” and with that she was off across the football field leaving Steve alone in the small booth to freak out about what he’d just agreed to.

A kissing booth. Great. Perfect. Totally fine.

He definitely wasn’t sore about Tommy getting to run the alumni basketball game instead of him. Wasn’t stressing the fuck out about the idea of having to kiss people for an hour straight. Or worse, kiss no one at all and have to live under a rock for the rest of his life and he totally wasn't going to kill Robin for ‘graciously volunteering’ to take money at his expense.

Loosing a sigh from his chest Steve ran his hands through his hair and kicked at the frame of the wall, KISSING BOOTH written above him. All curly letters and lipstick marks and bright red paint, taunting and teasing him about what would be happening in a few short hours.

It was going to be fine. Totally fine. Steve Harrington could handle a few smooches for charity. Right?

Right?

Midnight, gettin' uptight, where are you? You said you'd meet me, now it's quarter to two. I know I'm hangin' but I'm still wantin' you.

Joan Jett was yelling through the speakers of your stereo as you leaned over your dresser, swiping mascara through your lashes in the mirror, trying your best to hurry up and get ready for the Hawkins High Jamboree.

Did you want to go? Absolutely not.

Was your room mate and best friend making you go with her? 100%.

“So, like, are you gonna be ready this century or should I plan on arriving in a coffin? Actually. Steve’s gonna probably put me in one anyway, might be doing him a favor,” Robin mused around her toothbrush from across the hall in the bathroom.

“Hah, are you kidding? That guy came out of the womb as a fully formed show boat. He loves shit like this,” you shot back, shaking your head at the thought of Steve posted up at the kissing booth. A stupid, shit-eating grin pasted on his face. Signature hair all perfectly coiffed. A ridiculously long line of girls just waiting to fawn over him.

“Can’t argue you on the show boat bit, but he’s still totally gonna kill me,” Robin said snorting as she spat her toothpaste into the sink.

You weren’t sure what had happened between senior year and now, but somehow your best friend had also become Steve Harrington’s best friend and it made absolutely no sense.

At first you’d been extremely skeptical, even overprotective of her, and made it a point to tag along with them where ever they were going to make sure he wasn’t going to do something shitty, but much to your chagrin he proved you wrong every single time. He was even nice and somehow made Robin ugly laugh more than you did. How dare he?

“C’mon, I don’t wanna keep Nance waiting, she’s gonna be downstairs soon,” Robin popped her head in through your door and you shot her a grin.

“Ooo, eyeliner. Are you two going out after?” you teased, wiggling your eyebrows at her and she frowned, cheeks flushed.

“Yeah. Maybe. What’s it to you?”

“Nothing!” you held your hands up in surrender and gave her a little smile, “Just–it’s about damn time. You two have been dancing around each other for months.”

Robin was pretty private about her love life, especially after things hadn’t worked out with Vickie, and you were one of the only ones who really got to be in the know. Well. You and Steve, but you had to hand it to him. He at least seemed pretty damn empathetic and supportive in that regard toward Robin and you were thankful to him for it.

“What, are you keeping track?” Robin grumbled, smoothing her shirt down a bit and picking at the chipped black polish on her nails.

“You’re the one with the scoreboard,” you gently teased back, shoving your feet into the Chucks next to your dresser, but then your expression softened as you looked up at her, “You know I’m not. I’d be one to talk anyway, my love life is non-existent.”

“Yeah, well. Maybe you should try. It’s not all bad. Look at me, put myself out there and already have a date,” she said pointedly, scrunching up her nose at you.

“No, thanks,” it was your turn to grumble and you shouldered past her into the hallway.

“Wait. Wait a second. Yes. Yes, thanks!” she said, tone suddenly shifting into the one where you knew she was up to no good.

“Robs, whatever you’re about to say? Don’t,” you grabbed your wallet and chapstick off the kitchen table and turned to fix her with a look. The way she was grinning at you was horrifying. “Oh my god. What?”

“Kiss him,” she said simply and you looked at her blankly.

“What?”

“Put yourself out there! Kiss him!” she said again more enthusiastically and your stomach flipped over.

“Steve? Oh, wow. Let me go ahead and put a ‘hell’ in front of my no. No, Robs. No way,” you crammed your things into your pockets and shook your head, opening the fridge to try and find a beer. Booze suddenly felt very, extremely, necessary.

“Seriously! C’mon! What, are you chicken?” she make a little squawking noise as you cracked open the last beer hiding at the back of the fridge.

“Seriously?” you parroted back, “What, are you twelve? No, I’m not doing it.” You took a long drink from the can in your hand and grimaced as the carbonation fizzed in your nose. Too much.

“If you do, I’ll leave you alone for a whole week,” Robin’s tone was sing-songy, dragging out the vowels as she leaned on the open fridge door and smiled at you all sweetly. Full of mischief.

You waited, took another drink of beer and narrowed your eyes at her. She’d been begging you to go on a double date with her and Nancy and the thought of it made you want to throw up. Not only were double dates super cringy, but one: you didn’t have a boyfriend and two: Robin always suggested Steve and you’d immediately have to shut it down. He was absolutely not your type and there was no way you’d make it more than thirty minutes.

“Two weeks,” you countered, “And if you’re gonna hang out with him it can’t be here.”

“Deal!” she said much too quickly, sticking her hand out to you and you frowned, taking it and shaking it aggressively.

“Great. Deal.” It was just a kiss, right? Not stupid Seven Minutes in Heaven or Spin the Bottle, just cramming a dollar into a jar and a quick peck on the lips and you’d be free from Robin’s meddling for two whole weeks. Worth it.

Buzzzzz.

Someone was at the door, a Nancy Wheeler shaped someone, and the color drained from Robin’s face.

“Oh, c’mon. You’re fine, you look great,” you took another drink of your beer and then offered the last half of it to Robin who finished it off in one go.

“It’s not—“ Robin burped, beer was a bad choice, “—too much?”

“No, it’s not too much. The eyeliner is nice, really brings out the black in your heart. Now let’s get go,” you grabbed the empty can from her hand and tossed it in the recycling before shoving her toward the door.

“I can’t believe you’re gonna kiss Steve,” she said, grin tugging at the corners of her lips and your expression soured.

“Oh my god, just go,” and despite your grumbling, despite insisting on your irritation, all you could think about the entire ride over was a sliver of a memory from last summer.

It was smack in the middle of July. Sun beating down with the intent to fry you alive.

Robin had practically begged you to go get ice cream and it wasn’t like you were gonna say no. It was hotter than hell out, of course you were gonna get ice cream, but then Steve tagged along. Sat across from you in the booth and ordered a strawberry milkshake. Wrapped his perfectly pouted lips around the straw and sipped it slowly. Licked whipped cream from his fingers. Ate the cherry last and looked up at you when he’d pulled it from the stem with his teeth and for a split second all you could think about was him.

What it would taste like. What it would feel like.

What it would be like to kiss Steve Harrington.

“Bye now,” Jason was smiling all saccharine sweet. Pure sugar. Too much and too fake as the girl he’d just kissed slowly backed away from him. Unable to pull her eyes away as he leaned against the frame of the booth effortless and on display for the girls waiting in line, all of them disappointed they hadn’t beat the clock to seven.

And as Steve walked across the field to take Jason’s spot, he audibly groaned watching the other boy soak it all up.

Fuck this. He was not excited, he was not looking forward to this, and he did not want to stand anywhere near a damn kissing booth. Roughing his hands over his face he sucked in a deep breath. It was only an hour. Sixty minutes. It would fly by.

“Well, well. If it isn’t the King!”

Yeah, no. This was going to suck.

“Haven’t used that since Junior year, Carver,” Steve’s voice was flat, unamused, and when he walked up on the line a few of the girls huddled up and started to whisper.

“Ah, c’mon, Harrington. Return of the king! Back on top!” the grin that pulled at the corners of Jason’s mouth grew as he fed off Steve’s negative energy. “C’mon, the ladies love it,” and as he turned back to the line a couple girls toward the end started to walk away, “Oof, guess I’m a hard act to follow.”

Steve jammed his tongue into his cheek, hands balling up at his sides as he eyed the other boy, wanting nothing more than to put a fist into Jason’s face. “It’s for charity, dumbass. Not a damn competition,” Steve grumbled as the other boy pushed himself off the wall of the booth.

“Whatever you say, King Steve. Dropping like flies. Least you’ll get out of here early,” Jason sneered and gave Steve a too-hard clap on the back. Biting down on his lip, Steve struggled to keep himself in check, struggled to keep his hands at his sides until someone else chimed in.

“Carver you better get goin’, gonna be late for Bible study,” Robin walked up on the boys with you and Nancy in tow and gave Jason a too-sweet smile of her own, “Don’t wanna let Jesus down. Well. More than you already have I guess.”

Jason’s face turned beet red and Steve stifled a laugh with a very unconvincing cough, a few scattered giggles coming from the line.

“Shut up, Buckley.”

“Tsk, tsk. How’s it go? Love your neighbor or whatever? Anyway, so nice to see you!” Robin punched him a little harder than she should’ve in the shoulder and walked up behind the counter to take over for Chrissy Cunningham. “Alright, ladies! Now that we’ve taken out the trash – come give the King of Hawkins high a big ol’ smooch and help buy new basketball uniforms! Real win/win here, friends,” her voice was so loud it made people’s heads turn over at the cake walk and Steve wanted to die.

“Jesus, Robin,” he hissed, scrambling over to take up his post under the giant red sign.

Nancy turned to you shaking her head, but smiling all fond over Robin, “I kinda feel bad for him.”

“I don’t,” you said with a laugh, watching the line perk up a bit with Robin’s encouragement as Steve looked like he wanted to pass out, giving the first girl in a line a kiss.

“You know, he’s not that bad,” Nancy said, giving you a nudge with her elbow.

Glancing back over at the booth you saw the second girl walk up and give her dollar to Robin, Steve’s face still flushed and pink, but lips just as pouted and perfect as they’d been that day at the diner. Sipping down strawberry milkshake and pulling the cherry off the stem and you felt your stomach flip over.

“Yeah, I guess,” you muttered, but Nancy chuckled when she saw how rosy your cheeks had grown.

“Okay, well you better get in line or you’ll have Robin on your ass worse than before,” she reminded you of your deal and you groaned. “It’ll be easy,” she said giving you a grin, “And he really is a good kisser.”

Your blush only deepened with her words and you tried to hide it, throwing your eyes down to your feet and starting to walk away, “Okay, great! Can’t wait. So awesome. Just the best.”

“Relax! It’s just a kiss!” she called over her shoulder as you fell into the last place in line behind someone from your old AP English class, trying very hard to not turn and run away.

At first it was an extremely awkward and uncomfortable exchange of events for Steve.

People would give Robin their money, she’d say thank you in her silly sing-songy Robin voice, and then they’d walk up to Steve and smile. Sometimes it was shy, sometimes it was overly aggressive, and sometimes there’d be a weird pause where they’d just stare at each other. He’d clear his throat nervously or stress about whether or not he should’ve brushed his teeth two more times before he’d left the house, but eventually she’d lean in and they’d kiss and then it’d be over.

It was ridiculous because he used to kiss random girls all the time at parties and shit in high school. Used to love it. Maybe because it stroked his ego. Because he liked showing off. Maybe he didn’t get enough affection at home. Maybe Nancy Wheeler broke his heart and he just wanted to forget, but now? Things were different now. He was different now.

He didn’t sleep around, he didn’t kiss and tell, his dating life was abysmal and this kissing booth just seemed to add insult to injury.

“Steve,” Robin whisper-yelled between customers as if she could tell he was spiraling, “You’re doing great. Only two more to go and you’re done!”

“God, Robin. Please stop talking,” Steve hissed back and gave the next girl a weak, half-hearted smile.

“Just saying–”

“Hi,” Steve cut Robin off and greeted the shorter, blonde girl he recognized from Senior year science. She was second-to-last in line ahead of you and you fought back a laugh, watching the awkwardness unfold.

“Hi, Stevie,” she purred and Steve’s stomach lurched.

Stevie? Oh god. Why?

She’d clearly just applied a fresh layer of shiny, pink gloss right before her turn came up and when she leaned in toward him, Steve waited til her eyes were closed to grimace. What? He wasn’t a monster.

It was slippery and wet and not good, but Steve gave her what he hoped was a friendly enough smile as she pulled away all starry-eyed.

“Maybe see you around? When you’re done?” she asked and he swallowed thickly.

“Yeah! Ye–maybe,” he stuttered and she slipped him a piece of paper with her number on it.

“Call me,” she winked and Steve died.

“Okay, sure. Thanks,” he stumbled over his words and when she finally turned away you watched as he screwed his eyes shut, muttering under his breath.

You caught the words stupid and want to die and you almost laughed, but it fell apart in your throat as the girl walked away and left you there. Last in line and panicking as you suddenly remembered what was supposed to happen next. Why were you just as nervous as he was?

Shaking off the last kiss, Steve was ready to just be done. Only one left Robin said, but when he looked up the pained expression on his face softened.

You.

Robin’s room mate. Her best friend. Her cute best friend. The one who fought him over best friend duties. Who teased him relentlessly and gave him shit all the time. Wasn’t afraid to eat an entire pizza on her own and always ordered a chocolate shake with sprinkles at the diner. Who wasn’t afraid to call him out on things and had a mouth like a sailor. A mouth he’d wanted to kiss more and more every time he saw you, but he could never find the right time to ask or try or make a move and–

“Oh,” fell from him, quiet and surprised and your lips twisted into a little frown.

“Oh,” you said back trying to tease, but it came out sounding a lot more hurt than anything.

Steve’s brows pinched together with worry and he took a step toward you, the most he’d moved all night. “N-no, sorry. I didn’t mean it like…” he rubbed at the back of his neck, trying hard to put words to what he was trying to say, but they weren’t coming out.

“That’s okay. S’for a good cause, right?” you shrugged and forced a smile.

“Yeah. Right,” he agreed lamely as you crammed a dollar into Robin’s hand with a glare. Two weeks better be worth it.

Then turning back to Steve you took another tiny step toward him and he did the same putting you two dangerously close. Almost toe-to-toe. The scent of fresh laundry and spearmint and boy making you feel dizzy, making you feel dumb, and when you pulled your eyes off the ground to look up at him your breath caught in your throat.

Fuck he was pretty.

That pout. The twin moles on his cheek. The soft slope of his jaw. The way his hair fell messy across his forehead and into his eyes all warm honey, liquid amber, melted caramel. He was making it hard to hold your grudge and you could feel the wall you’d put up around yourself start to crumble.

“So. We just–” you didn’t finish your sentence as he looked down at you, his lips parted, waiting, anticipating.

“Yeah. Yeah, uh–” Steve’s voice was low and made your tummy twist as he shook his head a little and leaned down. Tried to do the same thing he’d been doing all night, but suddenly so damn unsure. He paused, close enough you could feel his breath as it warmed over your cheek, “Is this–is this okay?”

“Mmhm,” you murmured and you didn’t have to wonder anymore. You were nervous, just like he was was, and it scared the shit out of you.

“Okay, guess I’ll just–” he said, voice barely above a whisper as he closed the gap between you and finally, finally pressed his lips soft and sweet to yours.

And it was everything.

It was slow and curious and a little shy, but the feeling of him against you pushed you to be brave and you tilted your head. Deepened the kiss. Opened for him and he slipped a hand wide and warm and soft at the back of your neck, his fingers threading through your hair and holding you even closer.

His tongue chased along your bottom lip and you sighed into him, letting him swallow all your soft pretty sounds until you were both breathless and needing air and when he started to pull away you swore you’d give Robin every single bill in your wallet to do it again.

Steve huffed a laugh, hand still holding you gentle at your neck and you bit your lips between your teeth to fight off a grin, too caught up in each other to care about anything else until–

“Yeah, think I’m gonna need another dollar for that one,” Robin was beaming at you two like an idiot and you both fixed her with a look, all sass and attitude.

“Robin,” your voice blended with Steve’s and Robin laughed so hard she snorted.

“Oh my god, please, please make this work. Look at you two. This is ridiculous. Here, go get a drink,” and she fisted a wad of dollars from the register, counting it out and replacing it with money from her own wallet before practically shoving it at Steve.

“What–”

“No, seriously, Harrington. Leave. Get outta here. It’s eight anyway,” Robin cut Steve off and pointed at her watch. Eight on the dot. Kissing Booth closed.

“Uh,” Steve started, looking back over at you with a lopsided smile, “Wanna get a drink?”

Your heart fluttered in your chest, hummingbird wings and nerves and a feeling you hadn’t had in a long time. A tiny flicker breathed into flames when Steve pressed his lips to yours and you felt your cheeks warm again at the thought of it.

“For charity?” you teased, trying hard to will your blush away as you pulled your eyes up to meet his.

“No way,” he said, too quick and suddenly his cheeks matched yours. Pink and rosy and warm and you laughed. “No,” he tried again, smile tugging into a smug grin. Just a tiny bit King Steve, but the show of confidence made you weak in the knees, made you want to kiss him again and you grinned right back.

“Okay, but you’re driving. Robs has a hot date,” turning you winked at Robin and her jaw dropped, fighting the urge to dive over the counter and kill you.

“A hot date?” Steve’s eyes grew wide and he reached up to slap at Robin’s hands, “With Nance??”

“I’m late, gotta get this to Click, told her I’d close this up by eight so she could go home,” Robin rambled, trying to pretend like there was so much to do, but failing miserably.

“Have fun!” you teased, throwing her sing-songy tone back in her face, but she ignored you, walking off across the football field still mumbling under her breath.

You looked back to make a joke to Steve, to laugh at Robin, but the sight of him had your words dying in your throat.

"Ready?" he asked, twirling his keys on his ring finger, looking the most relaxed he’d been all night and your heart leapt, hammering against your ribcage. Deep green henley snug across his chest. Dark wash Levi’s hugging all the right places. Hair still messy in his eyes. Those eyes. One hand jammed in his pocket and dirty blue Adidas shifting on the terf, ready to get outta there. Ready to get a drink with you and dammit, Nancy was right.

He was a good kisser.

crappymixtape™ • steve harrington masterlist // stranger things masterlist

[southernbluebellereader]

Forbidden

Captain John Price x MILF Single Mom Reader (COD MW(2))

Warning: Fluff, Innuendos, Brief mention of violence

Summary: Some instances of what the members of TF 141 thinks of Mrs. Price, including Mr. Price himself.

A/N: I've always wanted to write something like this, and I'm glad that I did. I definitely will write a part 2 at some point.

Word Count: ~2,137 words

Master List (tag list at the bottom)

“Simon? Oh, is it ok if I call you Simon? Are you sure you’re going to be ok on the couch?” Y/N handed Simon two pillows and a blanket.

“Simon’s fine, Mrs. Price. The couch is fine, you’ve already spoiled me enough by letting me stay here.”

“Oh please, call me Y/N! You and the other boys are always welcome here! And there’s no reason for you to travel home at this hour, sweetheart.” She smiled up at him, earning a small smile from him. Sweetheart. He silently thanked whatever god was in heaven that she turned around before seeing him turn into mush.

“Now you get settled, I’ll make some tea.” Simon watched as the woman shuffled into the kitchen, to put a kettle of water on the stove. He heard his Captain and Bobby, Y/N’s son, come down the stairs, chuckling at each other as they headed into the kitchen. It was almost weird to see - but oddly nice. His Captain deserved domesticity, and Simon was content with seeing glimpses of it. Price briefly met Simon’s eyes, almost cautioning him.

Simon knew that Bobby was around the same age as Johnny and Kyle. But the Captain wasn’t much older than himself. He didn’t want to be rude and ask - he knew better than to ask a woman - let alone Mrs. Price - for her age. But he knew she was older. Shaking his head, he placed the blanket and pillows on the couch he’d be sleeping on, then heard his name.

“You coming for tea, Simon?” Y/N stood in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room, adjusting her floor-length night robe so that it covered more of her body. His eyes flickered slightly to admire the way it clung to her body. He felt wrong for thinking she was beautiful - he felt guilty - she was his Captain’s wife; but he could almost care less if she was older than him, older than Price, or that she had an adult child the same age as Soap.

—

Y/N opened the door and smiled at Johnny and Bobby, “Hi boys, you’re back early! Did you have fun at the game?” Both of them stepped inside the house, Bobby leaning down to kiss his mother’s cheek and hug her, and Johnny awkwardly giving her a hug, relishing the brief smell of her sweet perfume.

“Yeah, it was great, Mum!” Bobby looked back at Johnny as he shed his shoes and jacket, “Thanks for inviting me, Johnny.”

“Eh, no need! But I better get going,” Johnny smiled at Bobby and gave Y/N a nod.

“What? So early? Come and stay a while, sweetheart, I’m making dinner!”

Sweetheart. It was music to Johnny’s ears.

Price came out of nowhere, a folded newspaper in hand, “Hey, boys! Welcome back. How was the game?” Price’s voice made Johnny’s attention switch from Y/N’s to his Captain’s. He wasn’t sure if his Captain could tell that he found his wife exceptionally beautiful - always have.

“It was great! Liverpool won,” Bobby chuckled.

Price walked up to Y/N and wrapped an arm around her waist, then looked over at Johnny, “C’mon, stay for dinner! Unless you’ve got somewhere else to be?”

Slightly embarrassed about being put on the spot, the Scotsman nodded in agreeance, “No, I’ll stay. Wouldn’t miss an opportunity to have dinner made by Mrs. Price.” Quickly shedding his shoes and coat, he followed Bobby into the kitchen, barely being able to meet his Captain’s and Y/N’s eyes. Johnny? Shy? Not normally.

Price couldn’t deny the fact that his wife was beautiful. But she was more than beautiful. She was selfless and kind. She raised a child, Bobby, as a single mom at sixteen with much help she could get from her parents. 

But he also couldn’t deny seeing that his men also found her attractive and were very attentive to her every need. The way that their stares either lingered a second longer or they couldn’t keep eye contact with her and would look at him, asking for permission.

And Y/N wasn’t stupid. She was skeptical of being with John from the beginning. But John made sure that she was loved and respected.

-

“Are you sure about this John?”

“About what?” 

Y/N adjusted herself in her seat and took a nervous sip of her wine. Hoping it’d calm her, which it didn’t. John looked at her with slight concern. Every so often, Y/N would get caught up about her being a few years older than John, she had a son the same age as Johnny and Kyle for God’s sake. They’d only been dating for a few months, but she really liked John, really liked him - she loved him.

“You know… about…” Y/N swallowed hard before continuing, the lump in her throat seemingly growing larger, “About me being a few years older.”

Sighing in slight relief, John gave her a soft reassuring smile. He scooted his chair closer to hers and took a hold of her hands. “Y/N, look at me.”

Y/N turned her body and did as she was told.

“Y/N. Age ain’t nothing but a thing. You are a beautiful woman, who’s dedicated her life to being a loving and caring woman, and a great mother to Bobby - he truly adores you.”

Y/N’s bottom lip began to tremble, waves of emotions about to take over her. John kept smiling at her, took one of his hands to caress her cheek, and kept reassuring her, “Y/N. I care about you deeply, I really do- I love you. And my men already feel like they know you with how much food you’re sending me to give them every time I go to work. They can’t wait to meet you. I can’t wait to have you meet them.”

Y/N let out a chuckle and leaned forward, resting her forehead against his shoulder. Both of them chuckle against each other. Y/N finally leaned back and looked up at John, just smiling at him, admiring him.

“How on earth did I meet you, John?”

“You met me when I dropped Bobby off at your house a year ago when I saved him from a bar fight against one of the other sailors.”

—

“Thank you, Mrs. Price, but you really didn’t have to!” Kyle smiled sheepishly at Y/N as she held a paper bag of his uniforms that she’d washed and cleaned.

“Oh stop, it was no problem at all. Lord knows John can teach you how to use a gun and hurt bad people, but he can’t teach you how to do laundry.” Y/N winked at Kyle, then shot her husband with a playful look.

“Hey! I teach them life skills!” John chuckled from the couch.

“Oh and I washed your caps too! I hope you were ok with that, they were dirty.” Y/N opened the bag and pulled out one of them to show.

Kyle blushed slightly and opened the bag and pulled out one of his caps, “R-Really? You honestly didn’t ha-”

“A thank you would suffice, Kyle,” Y/N chuckled as she watched Kyle pull out his cap and examined it, then looked up at her.

“Thank you,” Kyle said sheepishly.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart. Come, I’ll make you some tea.” Y/N rubbed the side of Kyle’s arm then gently pulled him into the kitchen, where John joined them shortly, “You headed back to the base soon?”

God, how Kyle felt himself melt every time Y//N touched him. “Y-yes, ma’am! We go back in a few days.”

“Oh good, if I don’t see you before then, I’ll send John with some food for you.” Y/N nodded as she prepared a pot of tea and pulled out some things for them to eat. John sat beside Kyle as they both watched Y/N in the kitchen - admiring her for different reasons.

Kyle was the first one to meet Y/N. John was caught up with meetings on base and asked him to go pick her up. She was wearing a sundress - the same one she’s wearing now as she’s preparing tea. He’d honestly never thought that his Captain would ever get married, or at least to someone like Y/N.

She was so kind and caring - he always felt warm inside when she talked to him and never want to be the one to let go first every time she touched or hugged him. He really liked her and would always do everything she asked him to do, even if she wasn’t married to his Captain, especially because she was married to his Captain. He was almost jealous of her son for having a mother like her, but also felt some relief, because what if…? No. He couldn’t. It’s his Captain’s wife. He shouldn’t find her this attractive, especially when she calls him sweetheart, or when she does his laundry or makes sure that they have food to eat. He’s lost count of how many times he’s slept over on their couch and peeked at her in the kitchen in her night robe - getting a glimpse of her a little more than her shoulders.

There was an unspoken conversation between Kyle, Johnny, and Simon that they all found Y/N Price attractive - but in a forbidden way. John Price had an inkling of it, but he trusted his men to behave themselves. However, he did feel lucky to have met Y/N and Johnny.

Y/N brought him a certain peace and calmness into his life - a life of comfort and domesticity that he’d so desperately wanted in his life during the later years of his life but couldn’t bring himself to actually look for it.

Until one day at a bar five years ago when a group of sailors from the Royal Navy was on the brink of a fight. Bobby had just turned twenty-one and despite being almost as large as his men, was probably the most reckless - Bobby reminded John of himself when he was young, in good ways, and bad. Before the fight resulted in someone dying, John pulled Bobby out of the fight.

“Are you out of your damn mind, soldier? You’ll get yourself killed, or worse: discharged.”

Bobby chuckled as he wiped his bleeding face, walking alongside Price as they walked out of the bar, “Funny thing is, I ain’t a soldier, sir, I’m a sailor.”

“No wonder you still got jokes. What’s your name, son?” John chuckled.

“Robert L/N. Call me Bobby.” Bobby held out his hand out for John to shake. He gladly took it and shook it firmly, “John Price. You got a ride home?”

“Not anymore.”

“C’mon. I’ll give you a ride.”

Surprisingly, the ride home wasn’t as awkward as John thought, Bobby was a lively young man.

“You got anyone at home, son?

“Just my mum. Just been me and her for a long time. Grandparents aren’t here anymore.” Bobby suddenly got quiet. The only sound in the car was the music. John nodded at the response, then broke the silence, “I know she’s proud of you, Bobby.”

“I know… Just hate seeing her alone when I go away…”

This tugged at John’s heartstrings. “Your mum’s a strong woman.”

Bobby remained silent as they pulled up to his home. Bobby and John got out of the car, went up to the front door, and knocked.

Y/N opened the door, her smile disappearing as she saw Bobby covered in a now-dried bloody nose and half a black eye, “Bobby! What did you get into?”

“Hi Mum!” Bobby chuckled as he walked inside, giving Y/N a kiss on the cheek. Still in awe, Y/N looked back at John, “Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry! Thank you for bringing him, sir.”

Slightly taken aback by her beauty, he hadn’t expected Bobby’s mother to be… so attractive. He cleared his throat before speaking, “No, it’s alright. I managed to pull him out before it got worse.”

“Worse? Oh my goodness- Bobby!”

“What?” was heard from the kitchen. Bobby came back into the hallway, half chewing food. Y/N sighed at her son as John chuckled. Y/N turned back at John and thanked him profusely, “Oh please, come in! Where are my manners? I’ll make some tea.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t, Mrs. L/N-”

“Oh please, call me Y/N. Mrs. L/N was my mother. Please come in, I insist. I need someone to help me make sure my son doesn’t do this again." Y/N took a step to the side and let John inside her home. It was warm.

He took his hat off and thanked her, “Thank you, Y/N. Please call me John.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TAG LIST

@ateliefloresdaprimavera @galagcica @sweetybuzz25 @wisedinosaurpolice @itsasecrets-things @ronbon @lieutenantlashfaz @piper570 @shuttlelauncher81 @thanksbutno98 @gabriellathegreat @kult6 @crimsonbubble @whore4dilfs @apathetickun

[duckymcdoorknob]

TALL ASS GIF WHAT THE FUCK !!!!!

This duck is out of her funk and ready to rock and roll

Pls forgive if the events aren’t chronological; I have not been in this arc for literally 50 episodes 😭

Wake Up Call

Warning! This is a tickle fic!

Ships: None! Kurama and Yusuke

Warnings: Tickles, small amount of foot tks, LIGHT SPOILERS FOR DARK TOURNAMENT ARC! Episodes 26-30 ish.

Prompt: The team gets scarce time to rest, so Yusuke has a bad habit of falling asleep in places he really shouldn’t…

Tags: @giggly-squiggily the queen herself for helping me out of a slump! @mystwrites My fellow YYH fan🛐 @chrimsss bc I tag you in everything :)) (ily)

Ever since Yusuke woke up, he wished with every step that he could go back to sleep. Sure, he was totally spent and straight-up passed out because of overusing his energy—hell, he STILL didn’t know how to control himself—but nothing beat the sweet dreams that followed him into that wonderful “nap” he was able to have.

Now? Hah, as if.

Every single day, it was “Fight these two teams back-to-back today!” or “Oh, Urameshi, I’ll take the tough one!” (As if he’d let his friend put his life on the line like that when he could do so himself!) or “Foolish humans, of course I know how to play cards.”

As if not sleeping till well into the early morning wasn’t enough, the boy was on a strict morning routine—courtesy of Genkai. He was to wake at five A.M. and go for a run, (which he didn’t much mind; he was “born on a treadmill,” as he claimed.) Then, it was endurance, power, and dodge training. Shortly after, he would have a quick breakfast with his friends, and then the fights began promptly at 8:00 on the dot.

To be honest, Yusuke was absolutely dog-tired, and there was no way he would survive the evening before “bedtime.”

It was a rare night for Team Urameshi to have downtime. Having just defeated Team Mashou, the four were having a wonderfully solemn evening. Kuwabara was very determined to teach Hiei to play Daifugo, Kurama and Botan were telling stories to Keiko and Shizuru, and Yusuke was on the couch spectating “the card game.”

In reality, the only thing that Yusuke was spectating was the inside of his eyelids.

The spirit detective blinked in and out of reality as his teammates’ voices began to warble in his ears. Despite Kuwabara’s incessant yelling, Kurama’s gentle tone was just enough to help drown out the cacophony behind him.

Trying his best to sound fully alert, Yusuke slurred out a sentence. “Yanno, ‘Rama, youshuld stard a pogcazt. You hav a ni’ voice.” (You know, Kurama, you should start a podcast. You have a nice voice.)

The redhead’s attention was beheld at the mention of his name, and he quickly turned towards the couch. “A podcast you say?” Excusing himself, the youkai stepped toward his team members, finding Yusuke curled up on the couch, blinking slowly.

Lifting the boy’s ankles momentarily so to not disturb him, Kurama opted to sit next to Yusuke, placing them atop of his lap. “So, what’s happening with them?”

“Ku-‘bara teachin’ Hiei *yawn* Daif’go.” (Kuwabara is teaching Hiei Daifugo.)

“I see,” Kurama hummed, absentmindedly stroking one of the spirit detective’s ankles with his thumb. “How do you think it’s going?”

There was a silence.

Well, as silent as it could be with Hiei and Kuwabara bickering.

“Yusuke?”

When the youkai turned to his right, he couldn’t help but smile at the sight. The boy was absolutely passed out on the couch, seemingly fallen asleep from the comforting touch. His hair was slightly disheveled, his shirt had ridden up to reveal his stomach a bit as well.

“Yusuke, you shouldn’t fall asleep here; you’ll wake up sore tomorrow,” Kurama hummed, patting the top of the boy’s socked foot. “Wake up, child.”

Another silent response from the teenager elicited a sigh from the redhead. His attention was grabbed by a yelp from Kuwabara, having just been jabbed in the stomach by a disgruntled Hiei.

That’s it! But was Yusuke even-?

Only one way to find out…

With a bout of curiosity, Kurama scooted his hand from the spirit detective’s ankle down to his foot. He used two fingers to lightly swipe downward, eyes never leaving the sleeping figure on the other end of the couch. “Yusuke, wake up.”

Kurama was met with a light jerk backwards and a curl of the boy’s toes. ‘How precious’ he thought as he repeated the action. ‘So he is ticklish…’

“Come on now, it’s time to go to sleep in your bed,” the youkai murmured, using all five fingers to go in with more fervor. “Come on…”

Yusuke sighed out a groan, turning over onto his stomach atop of Kurama’s lap. “S’eepy,” he mumbled. He snuggled into the pillow, slumping downward as he exhaled comfortably.

‘It’s almost as if he wants me to tickle him. He’s just flipped himself completely defenseless.’

“Honestly, Yusuke, you cannot expect me to simply leave you alone now. I swear you’ve much to learn,” the redhead reported as he once again started to spider his fingers on the boy’s feet.

Giggly exhales escaped the spirit detective while both of his legs shot upward in the air out of defense. Kurama chuckled and stood up. “Thank you for setting me free from my prison. Now then, up with you now.”

A small groan answered his request, eliciting an eyeroll from the youkai. The boy put his legs back on the couch and snuggled in deeper. The fox demon sighed deeply, kneeling down toward Yusuke’s head.

“Yusuke…” he hummed in annoyance. Kurama’s hand gently brushed the hairs away from the spirit detective’s forehead. His hand came to rest on the boy’s cheek, his thumb gently stroking it. “Come on now… you don’t really want to sleep on this couch, do you? It doesn’t even have seats with fabric. Do you know just how filthy leather can get?”

Kurama was merely met with a relaxed sigh and a smile of comfort—which he should’ve expected after giving such soothing touches to his face.

“Alright, fine. You wish to do things the hard way, then I shall do them the hard way. I am giving you one last chance to stand up and sleep, then I will resort to drastic measures.”

The youkai relaxed a bit when he saw Yusuke open his eyes. With bleary, heavy eyes, the boy glared at the redhead while he stuck his tongue out. Afterward, he immediately shut his eyes and hid his face in the pillow once more.

“Alright, fine,” Kurama said impatiently, “if you’re going to be so difficult, then I shall too be difficult.” And with that, the fox demon shifted downward and began to trace ticklish shapes into the boy’s back and shoulders. “If you don’t wake up, then I shall make you.”

The gentlest giggling broke Kuwabara and Hiei from their argument, turning their attention toward the couch.

“Come on, Yusuke, surely you can just listen and avoid losing your dignity,” Kurama reported.

“Nohohoho,” Yusuke whined as he squirmed.

“Oh! He speaks; good morning! Are you going to listen to me now?”

Hiei and Kuwabara—for the first time that either can recall—looked menacingly at one another, excited to view the endeavor. They watched their friend frantically shake his head “no.” Whether it was in response to Kurama’s question or his ticklish touch, neither knew the answer for sure.

“Kurahahamahahaha,” Yusuke whined, scrunching up a bit as the tickling fingers were dangerously close to his neck. “Nohohoho. Nohohoho tihihihickles!”

“Oh yes, if I must. I must “tickles” if it means it’ll get you to bed sooner. Maybe I need a new spot, hmm?” With these teasing words, the youkai’s hands shot down to Yusuke’s sides and begun to squeeze.

Feet kick rapidly as a very high-octaved squeak escaped the boy “shihihihit!” He whined. “Kurahahamahaha! Nohohohoho!”

The redhead simply smiled innocently at him. The commotion had gained the attention of Botan, Keiko, and Shizuru, who all had stopped to listen in on the event unfolding.

“Do you concede?”

“Nehehehev-hehehahahaha! Plehehehehease!” the spirit detective whined.

“Hmm. I must get creative it seems…” the youkai mused, quickly shooting his hands up to worm under Yusuke’s arms. He had been hugging the pillow for a while, leaving himself totally vulnerable. “How about here?”

An extremely manly yelp escaped his lips as the spirit detective clamped his arms down. He managed to trap Kurama’s assaulting fingers! Just… much lower… between his underarms and ribs… oh no…

“Dahahahammihihihit! Nohohoho! Kura-ahahaha! Shihihit- agh! Nohohohohoho! Nonononohohohoho!”

Yusuke’s feet rapidly kicked up and down as his laughter grew in volume. As if he didn’t get everyone’s attention before, he was destined to now.

“Well?” Kurama asked, completely unfazed by the boy’s reaction.

“Kurahaha- Kurahahahama! Nohohoho! Lehehet mehehe sleheheheep!”

“I suppose you leave me with no choice now, child. My apologies for exploiting your weaknesses in this way.”

What the hell was that stupid fox talking about? Why wasn’t he going to just let him sleep on the couch? What was so wrong with it anyways? Sure, there’s probably piss and blood and all sorts of fun things on the seats but-

Yusuke’s chain of thought completely halted when he felt forefingers and thumbs pinching at his hipbones. Eyes squeezing shut, the boy squealed into the pillow, shaking his head frantically. “NONONONO PLEHEHEHEHEASE! KURAHAH- FUHUHUHUCK YOHOHOU! NOHOHOHO! SHITSHITSHIT YOHOHOHOU BIHIHIHITCH! PFFFAHAHAHA!”

“Quite the mouth on you, Yusuke. If my morals serve me right, I do believe that a punishment is in order,” the redhead hummed with a close-eyed smile, squeezing with more fervor.

The spirit detective’s voice escaped him, and only squeaky responses came as he squirmed relentlessly. “NOHOHOHO! KURAHAHAHAMAHAHA! IHIHIM- HEHEHEHAHAHAHA! IHIHIHIM SOHOHOHORRY! IHIHILL- *snort* OHOHOHO MY GOHOHOHOD- FUHUHUHUCK OHOHOHOFF!”

“What was that?”

“IHIHIHI’LL SLEHEHEHEHEEP! IHIHIH’LL SLEHEHEHEEP! *snort* OKAHAHAHAY! OKAHAHAY! *snort* STAHAHAHAP!”

With a small grunt of admiration, the youkai ceased his “torturous” attack, allowing the boy to catch his breath. Finally looking up at the room, he blinked a few times when he noticed the rest of their friends staring at the two of them with dopey grins—minus Hiei—on their faces. “Oh my… it seems you’ve gained quite an audience, Yusuke.”

A high-pitched sound of disapproval left him as the spirit detective yawned. Flipping back over onto his back, Yusuke huffed and sunk into the couch. It wasn’t long before his eyes were fluttered closed once more.

The fox demon sighed when he looked back down at the boy. “Perhaps it’d be best to take the path of least resistance,” he murmured as he carefully slid his arms underneath Yusuke’s neck and knees, quickly placing him into a secure hold. “I shall be taking this one to bed, and hopefully I will be back within a few minutes. In the event I do not return, I shall see you all in the morning.”

After nodding to everyone to bid them adieu, Kurama trudged out of the room, looking down fondly at the teenager in his arms—who had absentmindedly turned toward the fox demon’s body and cuddled up. The redhead sighed with a warm smile, whispering:

“Atop of everything else, must I now be your mother too, Yusuke?”

Kurama helped Yusuke down onto the bed, carefully pulling his socks off and removing his jacket. He placed the two items neatly on the nightstand before kneeling by the boy’s bedside to brush the hair away from his eyes once more. “I suppose I should get back out there… hm?”

Expecting no response, Kurama blinked harshly in shock over a drowsy message. “You don’t have to… go back… you can *yawn* you can stay… in here.”

Another fond smile found its way to the fox demon’s lips. “Alright, move over,” he hummed as he slid his shoes off, taking a book out of his pocket. He sat down on the bed next to Yusuke, and opened up to where he had left off. Every so often, he felt the boy shifting next to him.

“You may rest against me; I don’t mind one bit.”

The sleepy spirit detective smiled as he scooched closer to the youkai, placing his head on Kurama’s lap. The redhead reached down to gently run his fingers against Yusuke’s head and through his hair, grinning tenderly at how differently he acted behind closed doors.

“After all you’ve endured, you’re still just a child… aren’t you…?”

Yusuke could only hum sleepily as the youkai covered him with a blanket.

—————♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎—————

[nights-nonsensical-ramblings]

Damn it im trying to start a ramble but i cant really form anything much. (later note here, i managed it. I am so sorry for anyone thats come across this in the tags (they're there for my organisation), ive kinda made it a mess to put on any blog cuz of all the contradicting stuff) Like i've got "mmm i like Knuckles, he's best boy". But it feels like any headcanons or au ideas i could talk about are out of reach on my own. Again its like a fog, i know they're there but i just cant reach them. Subnautica 2 got a trailer and again its like i cant grab any thoughts on it. Like I love subnautica, never actually finished it, but i adore this game, its vibes its world the creatures

hmmm I just finished binge watching every single episode of Viva la Dirt League's bored series, did that over the last few days, saw its evolution and how stunningly high the production value got, how certain jokes were more/less common than i thought.

You know there's actually a reference to Baelin from their epic npc man series in one of my fics. In chapter 16 of 'No child should have to inherit a war' i have big say “morning, it’s a nice day for fishing, isn’t it?" a pretty close match to Baelin's "Morning! Nice day for fishing ain't it? Hua hah!" Alas no one ever got the reference. Okay, i got some Knuckles thoughts. Like in a generic fantasy rpg style world it would be so easy to put knux in a fighter/warrior/brawler type class. He likes to hit hard and get up in the heat of the fight. But i adore his more quiet moments so much. He likes to help out the animals of his islands, he's a protector who cares so much and is always jumping to help strangers, enemies and friends alike. (even if he still tries to play the stoic role) But what would be absolutely hilarious in my opinion is if he was an incredibly powerful sorcerer/mage/wizard. (in reference to how powerful he is due to the m.e connection) and he's hyped up as this powerful and dangerous magic user,

only for him to punch you in the face when you go to fight him.

Oh he'll use his magic (and m.e powers in canon also apply here) to look after the place he protects, but he's not a fan of using it in combat. Both cuz its not his style, he prefers a direct, get it done style and cuz he feels its not his place that his power is not to be used in an offensive manor.

and throw in some healing powers of course cuz i will forever love Knuckles as a healer who will tell you off for being stupid and will huff and deny he's worried. (Platonic tsunderes hold a place in my heart)

Cuz yeah, caring is a major part of who knuckles is.

And back to bored, cuz Knuckles being the type to care reminds me of Rowan (the character) being such an opposite and a terrible boss. Cuz man Ben and Rowan and SO good at playing hateable characters. Like Bens character in Bored is the culmination of all the most frustrating and OUTRAGEOUS customers. He does such a good job that i get excited when he plays a less punch able character.

Like Charles, sure he's a mugger, but he's literally just following his programming. But he's also one of the npcs whos kinda able to break out of it. (but is very easily reset).

hmmm the string of thought is kinda knotting up a bit. Like i got a little more about subnautica and how i really wanted to do a thing about Knuckles bonding with the sea emperor leviathan over being the last, but idk how to write the sea emperor so it hasn't really gotten anywhere. hmmm now what... I definitely want to keep rambling (its working and i feel better) but idk what to say now.

[silly-little-gooses]

the inheritance games characters at a wedding!

as guests ofc

avery is rich, so she will bring the bride and groom the most expensive and crazy gifts for their wedding. for libby and nash’s wedding, she bought them an island. she’s overall a very good wedding guest, would recommend.

jameson is a wildcard. he will either get bored and leave early or if it’s someone important, he goes CRAZY. definitely spikes the punch at his brothers weddings yk. probs takes off his shirt at some point. do not make him the best man, his speech will be WILD.

grayson doesn’t care much for weddings. he finds them useless and impractical. but it gives him a reason to dress up, and you already know he doesn’t disappoint. dressed to the nines, perfect suit, styled hair, tons of rings or a fancy watch. he’s even more extra and dramatic than usual. he will remind everyone that it is a *blessing* that he’s there.

xander cries at every wedding, no doubt. he’s all jokes and laughs, but at jameson and avery’s wedding, he’s sobbing. but then when it comes time for the reception, he is jameson’s right hand man in causing mischief. he judges the scones/pastries, does crazy dances, and looks hot while doing so.

nash is another ideal wedding guest. he is respectful, mature, knows how to behave. but when nash gets drunk, OH BOY. hes a surprisingly good dancer and if you play hoedown throwdown, he knows the whole dance.

libby personally tries to make every single wedding cake for any wedding she’s invited to, even her own! most of the time, she gets asked to make cakes. libby is also a hopeless romantic and adores the aesthetic of weddings and just weddings as a whole. at her wedding, she def wears a black wedding dress with black bedazzled cowboy boots and hat for nash <3

max is just tagging along for the fun. she’s an even mix of party and maturity. she does get bored easily, however, and will quickly move from one thing to the next. it could be anyone’s wedding but she will be complaining like ‘when does this thing staaarrrrttt??” and at the reception, she mostly eats snacks and makes sure xander doesn’t burn the place down.

that’s all for now! if you have any ideas or recommendations for content, just ask me! I love you all, have the most wonderful of days! <3

[michellemisfit]

Weekly Tag Wednesday Thursday

Thanks for the game @jrooc and thanks for the tag @blue-disco-lights @deedala @energievie @lingy910y @creepkinginc @crestfallercanyon

Name: Mys

What is the most listened to artist in your music app of choice this month?

The Libertines - They’ve just released a new album

What song do you know all the lyrics to?

Erm… most? Well, at least most songs I regularly listen to. Back in the day when we’d still buy CDs I would get a new album and sit in my bedroom listening to it beginning to end, while reading along to the lyrics in the booklet. And oooooh, I would get so furious when bands had a booklet that did not include song lyrics. Wtf is wrong with you?? SO ANGRY! haha

What song do you pretend to know all the lyrics to and sing along to even though you don't?

It’s the End of the World As We Know It by R.E.M. I get to ‘eye of a hurricane, listen to yourself churn’ and then I’m lost until we hit the chorus lol But it’s such a fun song to pretend to sing along to, and really just making vaguely appropriate noises at the right time, until the chorus kicks in again… and of course we’re all ready to shout LEONARD BERNSTEIN! Hahaha

If you were to be crowned Queen/King/Royalty of listening to a band or artist, who would that be?

That would have to be Dirty Pretty Things. I fell in love with The Libertines just as they were falling apart and a few weeks away from calling it quits for good, so when Carl Barât announced the first tour of his new band Dirty Pretty Things I wasn’t gonna miss out again. So I flew to Ireland and then to England and attended the first 5 gigs of their first tour. And that pretty much set the tone for the next couple of years of my life. I ended up flying to the UK so much and meeting so many people that in the end it only made sense to move to London. Dirty Pretty Things had a tour booked starting two days after my moving day and we were gonna go to a few of the gigs. Then the day before I got on a plane they announced it would be their farewell tour, so we bought tickets for every single gig, which meant that I moved to the UK and then spent all of October, November, and half of December on tour… I didn’t start job hunting and thinking about real life until January lol

So yeah. Them. They’re my boys. As coined by the NME in their ‘sad to see them go’ article… “They were well fit and nice!”

What band/artist surprises you the most on your frequently listened to artists?

I’m ongoingly surprised by how much I managed to trick myself into liking Taylor Swift

Favourite line from a song (or one you have been thinking about lately?

Fame and Fortune by The Libertines

The deal was done, the trade was rough, Doubloons down for a double bluff, Dip your quill in your bleeding heart, Sign there and there and there

Guilty pleasure band or song?

I don’t believe in guilty pleasures.

Liking what I like don’t make me a bitch.

Okay let's talk fandom music:

Fave band or song you've discovered from a Fan Fic?

The Libertines lol My friend really wanted me to get into this band she liked, and I just wasn’t massively into music at the time, so she sent me a Libertines fanfic, and that, as they say, was that. Oh, she knew me very well… hahah

Fave Fanfic Playlist?

Right now I’m REALLY into The Menagerie playlist!

Fave Gallavich song?

Do you listen to music recommended by the writer or an included playlist? 

Almost always, yeah. Though sometimes that can go terribly wrong. When someone’s like OMG THIS SONG!!! and you’re just like ‘eh, I don’t see it’ lol

What song do you think is Gallavich coded?

Well, thanks to @deedala this will never not be Season 5 Gallavich

What’s a bop you want to share with your mutuals today? 

Love the original, but I also love Darren Criss

And this, because I’m dying for the next season of The Bear!!!!

Oooookay… I’m late and I’ve been way too busy, so if you’ve already played and I didn’t see please tag me in yours so I can check it out!! If not, and you’d like to do it, I’m tagging @heymacy @heymrspatel @darlingian @too-schoolforcool @palepinkgoat @vintagelacerosette @crossmydna @captainjowl @mikhailoisbaby @rereadanon @the-rat-wins @tsuga-of-mars @loftec @sickness-health-all-that-shit @deathclassic @rutherinahobbit @faejilly (you can skip the Gallavich questions!!! Hahahahah)

[junox4]

Here's the thing about chronic pain

When you have a chronic pain condition and you are in pain every single moment of every single day, you don't notice it.

Now you may be thinking "Wait but if you don't notice the pain, how are you in pain?" Well boy do I have an explanation.

Ok, so y'know how deaf people can get hearing aids and cochlear implants and all those things to let them hear? Well a common thing is that deaf people who've undergone procedures or received equipment for hearing that they'll record (specifically people born deaf) is they hear a ticking sound.

Hearing people, don't hear that sound. They've grown up with that sound their entire life, they've learned to tune it out because the information that's being related is just simply not important.

Know what that ticking is?

Clocks.

Hearing people, like myself, generally don't notice the constant tick tock tick tock that clock produce, it is simply something we don't pay attention to. That's not to say we never hear it! We still hear it sometimes, but for the most part. We don't hear it.

Deaf people hear that ticking sound, every tick and tock is related to their brain and their brain doesn't block it out. Sure they can learn to tune it out, but it takes time and if they take their hearing aids off for a few days, when they put it back on they'll notice it.

But that isn't my point, my point is that the clock is pain. Every tick and tock is your nerves sending signals to your brain that tell you you're in pain.

Hearing people for the example I used are the chronically ill, we tune that pain out. It's still there, but when you're focused on something else you don't notice it, but that pain is so normal for your brain to the point where it's learned that when those signals are being transmitted it's allowed to tune them out because it's clnstant and the nerves aren't saying "we have been stabbed.

The standard person is the deaf person in this situation, when the clock is ticking (when they're in pain) they notice it. They can't just tune it out like we can, it is there and it's making its presence known.

So I don't notice I'm in pain half the time. Right now my hip hurts and I'm ok with that, it's whatever, I live like this.

When I'm at school and doing math, or science or drama or whatever I'm doing that I'm interested in, if I'm playing video games with friends or by myself. The pain doesn't seem to exist, it is still there. It doesn't stop. The clock didn't stop ticking my brain just tuned it out.

And when I am unfocused, I don't get a "pain spike" or something where it'd like "ouch! I feel like I got stabbed!" It's more like "oh yeah and this is STILL happening"

-the ramblings of an autistic person with HEDS

(other pain tags are added to reach people who hopefully understand what I mean)

[obscurus-noctem]

Get to know you - Sims Style

Thank you for tagging me, @aroundthesims and @descendantdragfi !

What’s your favorite Sims death? - I don’t really have one, i feel sad when they die :( I don’t think any of my sims have died ever.

Alpha CC or Maxis Match? - both for TS3 i guess. For TS4 I actually like MM.

Do you cheat your sims weight? - no because i don’t play long enough for me sims to gain weight 😁

Do you move objects? Yes, obviously.

Favorite Mod? Ok so, enhanced occults anything. But also Nraas.

First Expansion/Game Pack/Stuff Pack? The Sims Unleashed.

Do you pronounce live mode like aLIVE or LIVing? Live as in a live concert.

Who’s your favorite sim that you’ve made? Oh boy. It’s a tie between Deb, Lithargia and Marlene. All are horrendous in their own ways and I love them equally.

Have you made a simself? I have!

Which is your favorite EA hair color? I often make characters with either black or white hair.

Favorite EA hair? - definitely Deb’s hair from Generations EP.

Favorite life stage? - elders 😁

Are you a builder or are you in it for the gameplay? I’d say i’m more of a builder / screenshot taker. But i do a bit of gameplay every so often.

Are you a CC creator? No, unless building lots counts.

Do you have any Simblr friends or a Sim Squad? - I have a bunch of pretty amazing mutuals 👀

Do you have any sims merch? - Nope

Do you have a  Youtube for sims? - Also no

How has your “Sims style” changed throughout your years of playing? - I think i got a bit better at creating more realistic sims / features? I also tried creating sims that were “pretty” a lot more often before, whereas now I have preference for more unconventional, silly characters. Before and after below? 😂

Who’s your favorite CC creator? Ok there are simply TOO many to name, not to mention that every single one is greatly appreciated. I will do the same as @descendantdragfi and name the ones I used most often in my builds / gameplay: @aroundthesims, @murfeelee, @omedapixel, @martassimsbook, @mspoodle1, @bioniczombie, @danjaley, various creators from @blackyssims2and3zoo, cyclonesue and mutske from TSR.

How long have you had Simblr? since 2019.

How do you edit your pictures? They’re mostly re-shade now. I just lighten them a bit. I used to photoshop DOF, edited the colours and added more light.

What expansion/ gamepack is your favorite? For TS3 it’s Supernatural (can you tell i love occult sims 😂), Island Paradise (mermaids and underwater lots!), World Adventures (cool locations). Honorable mention goes to Late Night, Pets and Seasons. For TS4 it’s Island Living (love a good tropical world, ngl), Cottage Living, Jungle Adventure, Realm of Magic and My Wedding Stories (purely for Tartosa). Safe to say i have a few types of EPs that often strike my fancy, hahaha.

Tagging: @rethdis-love, @plant-sim​, @nectar-cellar, @tau1tvec, @mystery-pixels, @nocturnalazure, @briteboy, @unsimspirational​, @lazysunjade​, @joojconverts​, @woohooincoffin​, @kazroze​, @cavernsofdarkness​, @itssimplythesims​, @aprilrainsimblr​, @sadisim​, @martassimsbook​, @murfeelee​, @you-will-never-find-me-anymore​, @getboolpropped​, @thesimperiuscurse​ and whoever else wants to do it!

[sweaterkittensahoy]

Okay, so Rosie makes a point to be welcoming to the Replacements and a mentor in general. You know what that means.

Crushes.

Crushes everywhere.

Pappy and the rest of the crew spend a not-inconsiderable amount of time taking the starry-eyed replacement by the arm and going, "You've met Lemmons, right? You should meet Lemmons."

"Why?"

"Best mechanic in the whole damn air army. And Rosie's fella."

And even the most bravado-filled "Oh, I'm sure I can overcome a little thing like that" replacement comes back realizing they are batting WAY out of their league. That brain with that face and those freckles and that hair and those hands?

Nope. No way. Tag out.

And then, of course, they actually see Rosie and Ken interact, and it's just, "Oh, yeah, I had zero chance."

But every now and again there's a real cocky fucker. Usually from money. Who sees Lemmons and goes, "Okay, fine, he's a pretty face and a good mechanic, but Rosie's a LAWYER. I have a college degree. I have money. I can win this."

Pappy and the boys don't even bother with those. They just sit back and watch as those cocky fuckers do the same thing every single time: decide they can psych out Ken fucking Lemmons.

Who absolutely knows they're trying to psych him out, but he has several things they don't: Big blue eyes, a hick accent, and a very sharp awareness of when people think he's dumb. He's quickly got it down to an art.

"Oh, Rosie didn't mention you when we talked."

"Well, sure, he don't talk much when he's getting to know someone. But don't you worry, he'll open up."

"So, where did you go to college?"

"College? Oh, geez, no. Not me. Farm boy through and through. Didn't even graduate high school. Lucky I like machines so much. Honestly, I've got a couple ideas for how to improve planes in general when I get back. Robert's already written to a couple patent lawyers he knows. Real sweet of him, really. I've barely done more than sketched a few ideas."

"It must be a lot, keeping up with someone so wordly. From New York."

"Oh, no, I like it a lot! I didn't grow up in the city like Robert did, but I've been to a lot of 'em now, and they're really something! I'd love to be in a city and work on a bunch of busses or trains or something."

"You don't call him Rosie?"

"Naw, that's for you fellas. I'm happy with Robert." (that one is the closest he gets to giving away the game because none of the cocky fuckers can keep a straight face at Ken saying THEY'RE the one on the outside because they say Rosie.)

Meanwhile, Rosie laughs until he cries each and every time it happens. He never even clocks the cocky fuckers, and Ken's retelling of the events is always excellent.

[iovetecchou]

have u ever thought of hunting dogs best boys as fathers? I've been on a baby fever ever since i gave it a thought ☹️

oh my god… okay here we go…

tecchou:

- he would absolutely want kids with you. at least two

- tecchou is definitely the one to get up in the middle of the night when your newborn baby starts crying for dear life. every, single, time. he wants you to be able to get as much rest as you can!

- would push the stroller for you, carry the bucket, the diaper bag, everything. he wouldn’t let you lift a single finger.

- he would enjoy coloring with your child, finger painting and crafts are a must!

- you’re always cleaning up after your two babies… one of those babies being your husband, tecchou, of course.

- they would both come up to you, showing off their beautiful, messy, sparkly creations with their fingers completely covered in paint and glitter glue

- you know that iconic picture of Chris Hemsworth holding up his son by just his leg, letting the kid straight up dangle head first?? yeah tecchou would do that

- he would run around with your kids constantly, playing hide and seek, tag you name it.

- if your child was into after school activities you can bet your ass he’ll be there. at every event, every parent meeting, everything.

- would probably sign up to be your child’s coach too if they participated in sports!

- let’s say you had a daughter… your child would definitely be a daddy’s girl

- would go to every father daughter dance, have tea parties with stuffed animals, let her put bows in his hair, and paint his nails. he would even let your child put makeup on him too if they were feeling artistic!

- and he wouldn’t mind one bit. i think tecchou would love the attention from your little girl!

jouno:

- oh boy. now this is a whole different situation.

- jouno would be very hesitant about having children

- he would however enjoy the act of conceiving though (;

- a crying baby would not be good for him at all, not to mention all the bodily fluids… yeah it would take a ton of convincing

- but, if he really, and i mean really, loves you then he would want to start a family with you after a good long while

- jouno would talk a big game about how he wouldnt get overly emotional when your child finally arrived in this world. claiming that it wasn’t “that big of a deal” and he would just be “happy to get it over with”

- but the second he holds his child in his arms? oh he’s in love all over again, only this time with your baby!

- definitely shed a tear but he denies that ever happening.

- i actually think jouno would be a gentle parent.

- he would explain things in great detail to your kid, if they made a mistake or did something they shouldn’t have done he would have a surprising amount of patience for them.

- jouno would pull them into his lap and let them know that what they did was bad, and how they should react / ask for help the next time it happens. all while doing his best to put it into small words for your child to understand

- the sight alone would melt your heart, who knew he would be such a softie with your child in this way?

- oh he would spoil them rotten with desserts and treats! little cakes in the shape of a heart, cat shaped cookies, bunny apples, you name it.

- he enjoys hearing the pure joy erupt from your child, the small pitter patter of their heart as they happily enjoy his creations!

i literally whipped this up in ten minutes, so i do apologize if there are some errors in punctuation and whatnot!!