#one direction blub

[yanderenightmare]

Bakugou Katsuki & Midoriya Izuku

TW: NSFW, dubcon, captive darling, abuse of power, coercion, deepthroating, penetration v, threesome, degradation

fem reader

Thinking of pro-heroes Dynamight and Deku finally capturing the villain they’ve long been seeking, only to offer her a get-out-of-jail-free card if she gives them a little something in return…

You’re on your knees between them.

“Aww, now that’s a pretty sight~ ain’t it, Deku?”

“Agree, Kachan~ who’d've known the little felon could be so sweet~”

It’s but a small favor in regard to what they’re giving you in exchange. Suck their cocks, and you go free. You’ve done worse for less before. Being a criminal has never come without costs.

Still… the whole thing is so embarrassing. Mouth wide open with their leaky cockheads hugging for space inside it. They’re way too big to both have room, but they don’t seem all that concerned by it.

“C’mere,” The blonde groans, taking your head for himself – angling your plump lips back and forth on his shaft, sucking his teeth as you suckle on the fat veins found there. “That’s it, street scum- earn that freedom…”

Another weighty palm drapes your head, and you’re steered over to the other throbbing member. He nudges his tip inside your mouth and has the plush head fuck the pocket of your cheek, eerily smiling down at the sight. “Street scum is a bit harsh, isn’t it? I mean, look at that face~” He purrs, petting the abused cheek he was bulging.

Your hair is pulled in the other direction again, and you pop off the one in your mouth only to be invaded by the other again – this time deeper – and deeper again. He uses both hands to hold you down. 

“Still only useful for one thing-” He growls, and you gag, spit bubbles frothing around the shaft as your throat tightens up.

When he lets go, you jerk back with a cough – both your palms splayed flat on the ground, spluttering with hiccups, spit drooping down your chin while sipping sharp breaths that burn in your lungs.

“Aw- where’d all that confidence go, hm?” His hand tangles back in your hair and angles your face up again – now riddled with pretty deep-throat tears. Lips bloated and shivering with short shuddering inhales and exhales.

“’Think the poor thing bit off a little more than she could swallow…” The other man muses, grabbing your jaw and angling you his way again, pushing his slicken cockhead passed your lips. 

He drives just as deep as the former one did, aided by all four of their hands pushing you down until your nose pressed into the stiff muscles of his pelvis, buried in the ticklish green curls there – feeling his cock bend down the gorge of your throat. It does an excited jump each time you gag.

He pulls out slowly – but not all the way – looking down at you as you suck in breaths around the chub of his grith.

“We can always test ‘nother of yer’ holes if it gets too much for yah?” The blonde husks, tapping the weight of himself against your forehead, resting his balls in your hair.

“Don’t patronize her- I think a hardened criminal can handle this much...” The one taking space in your mouth says – beginning to slide himself all the way back down again, hitting your uvula like a punching bag with his balls slapping wetly against the slobber on your chin.

Your hands brace themselves against the stiff muscles on his thighs, feeling them flex through the spandex of his tight uniform. You close your eyes, squeezing them tight as he bores down your jugular again. Spluttering up spit and taking desperate breaths once you’re released.

You’re not given much time before another fist finds your hair again – though this time, your own hands come up to protect you – keeping yourself at arms-length by bracing against the oncoming hips.

“Wah-wait- break- just-” You blub, and the cock slides up your face instead, tapping its hefty weight against your cheek and temple.

“Hm, maybe you were right, Kachan. Maybe I was overestimating her…” The green-haired one mused, his voice sounding suggestive – followed by a soft scoff from the one resting his cock on your face.

“Okay then, up we go, lil’ crook-” He leaned down and grabbed you by the arm, lifting you from the floor. “Wouldn’t wanna make yah pass out, after all...”

He spun you around so your ass was pressed against his crotch, making you rest palms-first against the other man’s swole chest – standing tightly between them while the blonde behind you balled your dress up around your waist.

“No, wait- you’ll still let me go, right?” You stutter, reeling from the feel of his fat shaft, wet with your drool where it slid up between your crack while he softly humped his hips into your rear.

The one in front took your chin. “Oh- don’t worry~ let us have our fun, and we promise no prison.”

The cock is tapped on your asscheek whilst its owner places wet hot kisses up your neck. “Still up for it, hm?” He gruffs hotly at your ear, holding you steady by the hip whilst stroking himself in the other.

You bite your lips, brows doing little tremoring motions as you quickly try and mull it over in your head. Ending up with giving them a little nod.

He bites your earlobe with a rusty chuckle. “That’s a smart cookie.” Ushering you up to stand atop the other man’s shoes, making you just the right height for him to send his shaft down the cleft of your butt. Sliding it in between your thighs, rubbing himself against the puff of your cunt through the lacy silk of your panties.

He’s kind enough to get you a little warmed up first before peeling them aside and lightly slapping his manhood up against the slit. But the way you gasp is just way too cute for him to hold back – making him run his fat cockhead through your lips, back and forth to slick you up, rubbing over your clit – forcing an involuntary buck of your hips. 

He hums at the movement, finding your hole and kissing it with his tip, groaning out a “Yer’ way too pretty for prison…” against your ear – playing with your entrance without pushing in just yet, giving the ill-prepped thing a warning of what to handle. “Poor doll would be everyone’s favorite lil’ jailbird.”

You croon with a whimper when he splits you open, even as he does so slowly – and the other guy takes the opportunity to catch your mouth with his. 

“Wouldn’t stand a chance against the other inmates…” He moans, sliding his hand from your chin to your neck, holding it just tight enough to encourage you to keep your head up – as he slips his own thickness between the doughy fat of your inner thighs, rubbing over your clit on its way.

It makes you ache around the member bottoming out inside you. “Not to mention the guards…” He continued. “They’d all have a ball with fresh ‘n’ tight meat like you.” 

You moan into the mouth in front of you, panting on his lips when he speaks. “It would be too cruel of us to send you to a place like that…”

“Despite it bein’ where all you wrongdoers belong.” The hands placed on your hips keep you planted as he pulls out and lolls forward again.

Your thighs shudder from the feel of it, squeezing the one caught between them tightly. “Poor thing would get passed around from morning to lights out.” His words pour into your mouth where it gapes open – feeling his ridges and veins catch your clit – making your lower belly coil like an adder – clawing your nails into his chest in order to pursue it.

“Tied to the bars of yer’ cell for everyone to have a go.” The one behind grunted, kneading himself into your womb – fucking you deep and slow enough to feel you flutter on his length. “We’ll be a lot nicer with yah.”

 “Promise, sweet thing.” The one in front chuckles when you cum – shaking on both their cocks – weak in their hands – resting your sweet face against his chest with blank eyes glossed over from pleasure.

You’re not going to prison, but you’ll soon find out if you agree that staying locked up in their house as their personal pet is much different or better…

[queen-haq]

Fic: Grudgingly Yours, Part 11

Grudgingly Yours, Part 11

Summary: You are a general surgeon, working in a hospital that’s slowly sucking the life out of you when one day you’re given the offer of a lifetime.

A.K.A  - An arranged marriage fic :)

Pairing: Billy Russo x You

Rating: R

Masterlist (contains links to my other stories and this one)

Billy didn’t know when it happened. Sometimes he thought it was instantaneous, like those cartoon images when someone got a brilliant idea and a light blub flashed on. Other times, it was the absolute opposite. A slow warmth that spread over him, a feeling that he never knew existed. The longing intensified over time, grew more potent with each interaction, escalating from lukewarm to a searing heat that took over him completely.

It was a complete mystery to him, but ultimately the how didn’t matter. End result was the same - he was in love with you.

But he didn’t want to be, he fought it with everything he had.

For so long his only goal was to destroy those who hurt Frank and him. He spent years obsessing over it, gathering as much info as possible so he could track down the fuckers. Because once they were dead, the nightmares would cease. He’d stop hearing Frank’s struggling words while taking his last dying breath. The tortures, the beatings, the smell of burning skin – the horrific memories would end and he’d be the same soldier he was before they were captured. The chaos in his mind, the restlessness and insomnia – all of that fueled his drive for revenge.

And then you came along.

At first you were the thing he had to bear because his grandfather insisted. He needed the old man’s money and connections to find the kidnappers and figured he’d make your life a living hell until you left him. Except you ended up being completely different than he’d expected. Not quiet, not meek, definitely not docile – all the qualities his grandfather wanted. Instead you were loud and bossy, and you didn’t take shit. From him or Alistair. You fought back. You argued. And you definitely retaliated when things got dicey. You defended him when he’d been a complete ass to you, for no reason other than the fact you didn’t like bullies. That’s what Billy couldn’t understand, how you could threaten to poison him one night and then defend him the next. You were a fucking enigma.

On the anniversary of Frank’s death, when Billy had been at his absolute worst and no amount of alcohol or drugs could quiet the bloodcurdling memories in his mind, you offered him comfort. You held him, hugged him, cradled him to sleep – and it was the first night of rest he’d gotten in months. You did that for him, despite all the insults he hurled your way. You had compassion for him, and others, and a kind of strange empathy he simply didn’t understand and it fascinated him. It was such a direct contrast to how you spoke when you were angry, how you proudly wore the label of golddigger, how you talked smack to Alistair. You were a complete bitch yet you were busting your butt trying to open a clinic for people who no one gave a shit about. He didn’t get why. He didn’t get you. And that curiosity drove his fixation for you, thoughts of you clouding his mind more and more. It wasn’t until Curtis’s wedding that he realized if he were to let you, you could make him abandon his quest for revenge. Seeing Maria there, knowing how easily he could forget his promise to Frank, it hit him like a ton of bricks the hold you had over him. He tried to deny it, to himself, to you, tried to ignore his growing feelings for you, to hate you, but he couldn’t. Until Dinah came to the wedding with news about Frank’s killers, and then he realized it was a sign from the universe he needed to refocus on what really mattered – justice for himself, for Frank. Making the murderers pay. There was no room for you in his mind or his heart. You didn’t belong in his life. So he humiliated you, knowing that would make it easy for you to hate him before he took off for certain death. Even if there was a small chance he’d survive, he didn’t want to be with someone who held so much fucking power over him.

Of course that turned out to be complete bullshit.

Instead of fading, his feelings intensified during the past two months. And they didn’t distract him from his mission. No, the complete opposite. Having you in his mind helped him stay focused - there was no way he’d let his enemies live when they could get to him again. Or you. Fuck no. So he hunted them down meticulously and killed them all, wiping out all traces that could come back to haunt him.

After he accomplished what he set out to do, he came rushing back because he couldn’t stand the fucking ache in his soul anymore. Two long months had passed without any contact with you and he’d had enough. The longing for you was palpable, a living, breathing black hole that strengthened more and more everyday and wreaked havoc with his fucking mind. The only thing that brought him any peace was the thought of seeing you again. Your laugh, your voice, your scent. How your eyes lit up when you got the upper hand on him. The way your face scrunched up into the most adorable scowl when you were concentrating on work. The tender expression on your face when you connected with him emotionally.

But when he got home at three in the morning, there was no sign of you in the penthouse.

The bottom floor was clean and pristine. The living room, which you’d made into a makeshift office, was free of its usual clutter. Your bedroom was untouched, your closets empty. He’d been in your room a few times over the months - discreetly so you weren’t aware – and knew your penchant for choas  Makeup scattered on the bathroom counter. Clothes piled on the nearby recliner. But there was nothing of you left in that room, like you’d never been there in the first place. And that fucked him up badly. Because it never occurred to him you’d leave. After all, you’d made a goddamn deal with Alistair. And the two of you were married. That meant something.  But seeing your room empty, discovering all of your things gone, recognizing he’d fucked up so bad that you left – he couldn’t stand it. He needed you. He wanted you.

He loved you.

And he wasn’t going to lose you.

“Get your fucking hands off of me!”

Your rage-filled voice brought him out of his reverie instantly. He knew you’d be pissed, was counting on it actually, because it was how he could get you to drop the ice-queen mask. And his plan worked, if your fiery eyes were any indication. His hands gripped your wrists, his body pressed against yours so he could feel every inch of you as you struggled against him. You didn’t make it easy, that’s for sure. Only a few seconds ago you’d tried to hurt him with the glass you were holding, but he’d managed to swerve it away.

“Why are you here, you fucking psychopath?” you screamed, panting for air.

Your cheeks were flushed, lips still red from lipstick you were wearing. You looked hot, so fucking hot, and he couldn’t stop staring. There was a time when you meant nothing to him and now all he wanted was to immerse himself in you completely.

You tried to knee him in the groin but he blocked the move by stepping aside, easing his grip on you. At that moment you tried to escape but didn’t get far, running over the glass shards that lay on the floor. Hearing you groan with pain, he quickly rushed over. As he tried to pick you up, you fought back hard and kicked him repeatedly. That’s when he noticed you were bleeding. Shit. “Calm the fuck down!”

“Go to hell!

Using all his strength, he pulled out the zip ties from his back pocket and secured them around your wrists. It wasn’t easy with you pushing and shoving at him, but he finally managed to wrangle you under control. Throwing you on the bed, he then secured the zip ties around your feet.

“Asshole!”

He stood back. Peering back at you, he was mesmerized. Fuck, you were so hot. And now you were all tied up and screaming mad, like one of his fantasies come to life, and all he wanted was to fuck you senseless. He was hard just watching you squirm, but he forced himself to snap out of it. You were bleeding. Storming over to the bathroom, he started looking through the cabinets until he found some first-aid supplies. He took a quick glance at the mirror only to find the top of his shirt covered in blood spots. Shit. Apparently you’d managed to cut him earlier but he hadn’t noticed.

Grabbing some stuff, he returned to the bedroom. You were still on the bed where he left you, glaring at him.

“I need to clean your cut. Promise you won’t kick?”

“I promise I’ll kick your teeth out!”

He smiled at you affectionately, unable to help himself. “Thought of murdering me always gets you hot, doesn’t it?”

“Oh, yeah. Come closer. Give me a knife and I’ll show you how hot.”

He sauntered forward. “I’m trying to help you here.”

“By sneaking into my apartment and tying me up? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

The fight earlier had messed up your hairstyle, leaving your hair wild and messy. His fingers ached to run through the strands, the smell of your shampoo etched into his brain. Extending his hand, his finger twirled around one of the loose curls when you suddenly tried to bite him. He grinned at you, enjoying the burst of angry red that spread through your cheeks. “Still not ready to play nice?”

“What do you want? Why are you here?”

The top button of your shirt had ripped off, drawing attention to the curve of your breasts peeking out from underneath. Fuck. Your tits. He remembered the sensation of sinking his face in your cleavage, the way your breath shuddered when he was sucking on your nipples.

“Billy!”

Snapping out of his daze, his gaze trailed up to meet yours. “You’re coming home with me.”

You stared back at him defiantly. “Fuck you! I’m not going anywhere.”

“You don’t have a choice.”

“I’ll slit my own wrists before I go anywhere with you!”

He cupped your face with both hands. “No, sweetheart. It’s that fuckboy who’ll die if you don’t.”

You froze immediately, concern flooding your face. It was a punch to his gut, seeing how much you cared about the fucker.

“What did you do to him?”

Billy clenched his jaw. “He touched you, after I warned him not to. He had to pay for that.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” You swallowed an audible gulp. “Did you hurt him?”                       

He knelt down on the floor and started inspecting your knee. “He’s alive. For now.”

“Why are you doing this?” Your voice cracked for just a second, enough for him to realize the turmoil you were in.

He picked you up and carried you to the bathroom, grateful you weren’t pushing back this time. With a gentle touch he washed your bruised knee and tended to your cut. When you grimaced from the sting of the rubbing alcohol, he blew soft air on the wound, trying to ease your pain. He sensed your eyes following his every gesture, waiting for him to make his next move.

You were perched on the bathroom counter, your hands and feet still bound. Standing up to his full height once he bandaged your knee, he met your gaze. Whatever you were feeling a few seconds ago had dissipated, replaced by a glacial glint in your eyes.

Your voice was filled with contempt when you spoke next.  “So what’s the plan? You gonna use Calvin against me?”

There were so many things he wanted to say to you. That he was sorry. That he’d fucked up. That he couldn’t stop thinking about you. Yours was the face he saw every time he closed his eyes, and the person he dreamt about when he wasn’t haunted by nightmares. With you he felt alive, hopeful, and more than just a ball of rage that dominated his life for so many years. But he didn’t say any of that. He couldn’t. Because it scared the fuck out of him. It was so much easier to show you instead.

He tucked a loose strand of your hair behind your ear, and this time you didn’t try and bite him. Progress. And then he cupped your face with one hand, thumb stroking your cheek, while the other hand slowly caressed the skin under the plastic around your wrists. “Fuckboy will be fine as long as you do what I say.”

“Is this because of Alistair? If he’s-”

“I don’t give a fuck about him. He has nothing to do with this.”

“Then what difference does it make? I don’t have to move back. We can stay married and live separate lives.”

He peered at you closely, studying every inch of your face. “That’s not what I want.”

Agitated, you glared at him. “What do you want then?”

His mouth closed over yours.

He didn’t intend for it to be a rough kiss, opposite in fact. He wanted to show you another part of him, reveal to you that he wasn’t always an asshole, but as usual his plans had a way of fucking up. Instead of tenderness, he kissed you with a raw urgency, venting all the pent-up frustration of missing you. And you returned his kiss with equal ferocity, tongue against tongue, teeth clashing, not letting him slow down, driving him crazy with your mouth. His hands wrapped around the back of your head. Holding you tight, he pulled you close. A muffled moan escaped you, and it suddenly dawned on him your hands were still cuffed. Feeling guilty at your discomfort, he pulled away. Panting for air, he pressed his forehead against yours while pulling out his blade from the inside of his jacket. You were equally out of breath, your eyes a whirlwind of firestorm before you closed them.

Just for a moment it was like the last night he’d spent with you. No pretensions, no fucking games, only the two of you consumed with each other. He reached for your wrists, dropping soft kisses on where the zip ties had left an imprint. And you let him, not struggling with him or pushing back.

“Is this part of the deal, Billy?” The softness in your voice directly contradicted the hardness in your gaze. “If I fuck you, you’ll let him go?”

Your words disgusted him, making him sick to his stomach. “I don’t need blackmail to get you to fuck me.”

You snickered, shaking your head. “Oh, that’s beneath you? But you have no issues blackmailing me to live with you?”

He cocked his eyebrow. “I’m playing the only card I have left at this point.”

You stared back at him with an incredulous expression. “Seriously? My life is a game to you? Calvin-”

“Stop fucking saying his name!” Billy spat out.

He tried. He tried to stay calm and not lose it, tried not to think about you fucking that asshole. Tried to tell himself you deserved to move on after how he ended things - but he couldn’t stand it anymore. Couldn’t stand the thought of you touching that fucker, sleeping with him, laughing with him. Talking with him. It was driving Billy crazy. Did you hold him close at night and tell him about your day? Did you rest your head on his chest until you fell asleep? Did you let him hug you? Comfort you? Did you let him love you?

Fuck no. No. No. No.

“You’re my fucking wife!” He grasped your face, squeezing your cheeks. “You're the only thing that kept me sane these last few months. I can’t breathe without you. I don’t know how to anymore. I don’t know how to be me again. You’re all I fucking think about!”

You froze, eyes brimming with shock.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry about everything.” He pressed his temple against yours, pleading with you. “Give me a chance- “

‘So you can treat me like trash again?” You shook your head. “No. I’m done with you.”

Your voice trembled, you were struggling to contain your emotions. Instinctively he knew your cold façade would be up again, that there was no point in forcing you to talk at this time.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Billy stepped back. As quick as you, he composed himself outwardly. “You might be done. But I’m not.” He knelt down and cut off the zip tie that bound your feet together. “We need to get going. I’ll help you pack your things.” Rising to his full height, he leveled you with a somber expression. “Don’t make this any harder than it needs to be. Or Calvin’s gonna lose a lot more than just his fingers.”

He turned around and walked out of the bathroom.

A/N - Um, thoughts? As always, thank you for the wonderful feedback. I truly appreciate all of the comments and messages I receive; it's what inspires me to keep writing!

[int-writersmind]

Steady?

Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: It's been a few months of you and Peter's situationship, a run in with Spider-Man has you reconsidering your feelings for him.

Word Count: 2.5k

Genre: Fluff (w/ some notes of Spice/Smut nothing crazy tho)

Final Part of Potential Customer (could be read as a standalone)

The warm shine of sun was a great reprieve from the cold, brisk, late fall air. You hurry down the sidewalk, dodging and weaving through the crowd of people that blocked your path to work, you were rushing back from a doctor’s appointment in a different borough. You pull at your long red scarf, as you wait with a growing group of people for the sign to turn from a red hand to a white stick man.

Suddenly, Boom! 

An explosion from one block over causes everyone in the vicinity to scream, scramble, and panic in many different directions. You had been in the city for a few years now and understood where you lived and the type of spanx-wearing, super-powered beings that were your neighbors. But for whatever reason, the only interaction you ever had with them came in the form of watching recaps on the news or clips on social media after the fact. 

Now, you were in the middle of something major, and if you didn’t react–

“Guys I know the weather’s brutal, but I don’t think TNT makes great firewood!”

As you move behind the corner of a building, you look up and notice a red and blue figure swinging above you. That outfit and that voice only belong to the city’s resistant arachnid base hero– Spider-Man. 

You know you should get to safety, hell you really should be getting the hell out of here. But still, like many other New Yorkers in awe of the city they live in, you found yourself watching as Spider-Man tussles it out with some newbie criminals.

Spider-Man flips and jumps out of gunfire, webbing up nearby garbage cans and tossing them back in response. All with quip-y dialogue to boot. Actually, now that you think about it, his jokes reminded you of Peter’s, that customer-turned-occasional-hook-up you were seeing recently. That Peter you were desperate to make more than just a hookup–

“Make any sudden movements and I’ll blow ya brain out that pretty head of yours!”, you felt a hand cover your mouth, the coldness of the barrel of a gun pressed against your temple. “I won’t hurt ya, just need ya so I can get out of here.” said the petty Criminal, with the gun to your head and the other hand guiding your shoulder forward. The panic was settling in, but you didn’t want to make any sudden decisions that would put you in any more harm. The Criminal was panic-y himself, whipping you left and right as he headed away from the scene of the crime, his head on a swivel.

“...And this little piggy thought the Big Ole Spider didn’t see him run away.” With one sudden turn, the Criminal stopped in front of a light post where Spider-Man crouched on top of the blub. “Don’t worry, I’ll have you on your way in a jiffy.”

“Don’t you move Spider-Man! I’ll do it!” said the Criminal.

“Whelp, haven’t heard that a hundred times.”

The Criminal turns the gun outwards, but before he can shoot, a web shoots out, Spider-Man ripping it out from his hands. In one swift motion, Spider-Man leaps from the lamppost behind the Criminal. The Criminal in turn throws you off of him, causing you to fall to the ground. Spider-Man double kicks the Criminal, one in the back, one to the head, knocking him out.  

“Are you ok?” Spider-Man goes to offer you a hand but stops mid-way, his head snapping towards the Criminal. In two motions Spider-Man shoots a web toward the Criminal, pulling out a bomb from his chest, and another web shooting towards you pulling you close to him. “Hang on tight.”

Spider-Man swings the bomb so that it explodes in the air, while he swings away, you in one arm, your own arms locked around his neck.

He swings you far from the explosion, your stomach lurching as if you were on a thrill ride with too many drops, the cold wind whipping past your head. You tried your best to hold in your screams, the guy saved you, the least you can do is not blow out his ear drums. But the longer the swinging continued the more you thought he was extending this trip for his own pleasure.

After a few more swings, Spider-Man lands the two of you on a residential building's rooftop garden. He gently places you down on the ground, it takes you a minute to compose yourself.

“Thank you Spider-Man, I definitely won’t forget this day.” You say, in between gasps.

“Now you’ve joined the exclusive club of those who swung with Spidey!”

You place your hands on your hips, “Don’t know if that’s something I’m glad I achieved. Seems like you took the scenic route to get to safety.”

“Maybe I was trying to show you a good time. Can’t get those views from anywhere else.”

You felt your cheeks redding a little, “Careful Spider-Man, sounds to me like you’re flirting.”

With a quick little backflip, Spider-Man lands on the edge of the rooftop, perching like he was on the lamppost. You, now glad to be on solid ground, move closer to him, arms crossed against your chest. “Maybe I’m just a flirtatious guy?”

“I don’t know how my boyfriend will feel when he hears about this.”

Obviously, you couldn’t see, but you can almost feel the dumbfounded look on Spider-Man’s face ,like he was surprised at your response. “Boyfriend?”

“Well, I guess he’s not actually my boyfriend,” You start to pace back and forth, “But this guy I’ve been seeing…well, I don’t know…there’s just something about him. We spend a lot of time together, doing…certain activities…but after, when it’s all said and done, we just have these moments where we’re just really clicking together. Conversations about everything and nothing at the same time, sharing jokes with one another.

 “God, I just love it when he laughs, and when he smiles you can see that he has a slight chip in one of his teeth, on the left side, I think it’s adorable.” Almost as if he wasn’t thinking, Spider-Man’s hand goes to his jaw, stroking the left side of his face, strange if you think about it. 

“Sorry, I know you have tons of stuff that you would rather do than listen to some random person's relationship drama. Weirdly, you’re like really easy to talk to.” You say, rubbing your hands together before sticking them into your coat’s pockets.

“They don’t call me Friendly-Neighborhood Spider-Man for no reason.” You chuckle at his response, “Anyway, I hope you tell this boyfriend-non-boyfriend of yours how you really feel about him, I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.”

“Will do, and hey, stay safe Spider-Man.”

With a two-finger salute, Spider-Man backward dives off the side of the roof, you rush forward just in time to see him shoot a web and swing back to the former scene of the crime.

You back away from the side of the roof, suddenly aware of where you were, or in fact–

“Wait? How the hell do I get down from here?”

~

You burst through the front door, a few minutes late since thankfully Spider-Man left you closer to your work rather than further away, lucky huh? What was not so lucky was the five minutes it took to get off the roof.

You murmur apologies to your fellow co-worker as you take your position at the front counter, relieving them to go in the back and sort some new shipments. You barely unzip your jacket before the front door even dings, causing you to go into straight customer service mode. Well, until you notice who the “customer” actually is.

“Oh, hi Peter.” You sigh, reaching up to take off your hat, shoving it into your jacket’s pocket, shimming out said jacket, and throwing it to the side, still leaving your scarf on. “Um, didn’t expect to see you? Need something?”

“Uh, yes, no, kinda?” He chuckles dryly, rubbing the back of his neck as he approaches the front counter. “I was just in the neighborhood and thought I swing bye, ha-ha…”

“Always glad to see you,” You lean over the counter, resting both elbows on the top so that you’re closer to Peter. “Hey, you free tonight for some certain activities.” You wiggle your eyebrows suggestively, giggling to break the tension, Peter laughs back in response.

“Yeah, yeah, definitely,” Peter’s eyes dart from each of your eyes, down to your lips, then back up to your eyes. “Um, actually can we do more than just certain activities? Like dinner or something?”

You feel your face begin to heat up again, rising from the pit of your stomach, up the back of your neck, showing on your cheeks for Peter to see. “Sounds…cute, good actually, real good. But nothing fancy, I have this recipe that this elderly regular gave me a few days ago that I want to try. Says it’s popular with a lot of young men.”

“Sounds good to me.” Peter’s eyes are still locked on yours, his gaze piercing through your soul, but in a good way. Actually, it was kind of turning you on, almost more than other things he’s done to you in the privacy of each other’s beds.

“Peter, were you really in the neighborhood, or were you coming to see me?”

“Can’t both of those statements be true?”

“Oh, so you saw Spider-Man? He stopped this heist or robbery, whatever, around the block from here actually.”

Peter breaks eye contact, locating one of your hands and taking it in his. “Ugh, I must have just missed him. You’re not hurt or anything?”

“Oh no, Spider-Man made sure I was safe and sound, personally.”

The two of you laugh.

“Hey, stop flirting with the customers and do some actual work!” Your co-worker says, peeking their head from the back of the shop.

“I guess I better get out of here, don’t want to get you in any more trouble.” Peter says, looking down at your hands still intertwined, not yet ready to let go.

You bring up your interlocking hands to your mouth, placing a kiss on Peter’s. “Bye, Peter.”

You let go of him, slightly pushing yourself off the counter when suddenly Peter pulls you back close by the ends of your scarf, placing a kiss on your lips. His cold nose brushed against yours. When he moves back, lips barely away from yours, you can’t help but sigh in response. Like a character in some kind of romance novel. “Too much?” he asks.

You just smile and shake your head no, “Your nose is cold, here take my scarf.”

You lift your scarf off your head and place it over Peter’s, throwing one end over one of his shoulders. “See you tonight.”

“Yeah,” Peter walks backward, winking as he walks out the door, “Later!”

~

Ding-Dong!

Of course, the doorbell rings right at the moment when you are getting ready to make your sauce for the pasta dish. You debated whether or not to let the doorbell ring some more, finally pulling yourself away from the stove.

When you open the door, you’re met with Peter standing there with a modest, but gorgeous bouquet of flowers (one flower hanging by a thread), and your scarf hanging from his neck.

“My goodness, Peter you shouldn’t have,” Your hands hover close to the bouquet, eyes darting from the flowers to Peter’s eyes. “Ah, you really shouldn’t. I hate flowers.”

Peter’s face falls, shock, panic, and fear, (maybe everything all wrapped up at once) play across his face. “Oh-Uh, I just thought–”

“Oh, hon,” You pull him close by the ends of your scarf, mimicking what he did earlier. “I’m just fucking with you.” You kiss him gently, deepening it as Peter kisses you back. Is this what this thing between the two of you was becoming? Visiting each other at work, having dinner together, causal kisses, flowers? Peter must want this relationship to be more than just a casual hook-up too.

You both break the kiss off, still remaining close, looking at one another deeply. You blink rapidly to pull yourself back into reality. “Come in, dinner’s almost ready.”

~

Empty plates and cups half filled with budget wine lay to the side on your table in your living room. The two of you were too wrapped up in conversation on the couch to even reach for your drink.

“Yeah, I guess I was just really lucky, being in the right place at the right time to get that picture. Front page and everything.” Peter resting his head on his hand, his elbow resting on the top of the couch.

“Luck and craziness” You sat, legs tucked underneath you, body turned towards Peter, hands wringing in your lap. “You know, these conversations are actually still interesting even with all our clothes on.”

“Yeah,” he reaches for your hand again, holding it in your lap, “But maybe I’m still imagining you naked, in my bed.” He moves in closer, “Sweaty, hair stuck to your face…”

“Wow, someone’s bold this evening.”

“I don’t know, I just feel…I don’t know…”

You go to push back a little tuft of brown hair behind his ear. “I get it, babe.”

Peter groans in response, leaning forward, pecking at your lips. “I know you like using pet names as jokes, but I just…love it when you say them.”

“Ok, Love,” you say as Peter keeps moving forward until you move your legs from underneath you. Peter kisses you into the couch, holding your face with one of his hands. “Darling?”

“Yes?” Peter says, in between kisses on your lips, face, and neck.

“Can I ask you something?”

Peter stops immediately, looking at you directly, “Yeah?”

“Can we…can we be more than just…god, can we be more than just certain activities? I know you said you didn’t…don’t have the time for a serious relationship and all, and I know I said it was ok and all…

“Yes, yes, of course,” Peter says.

“Yes?”

“I-I know what I said, and maybe this-this might be difficult to juggle but,” Peter caresses your face with his thumb, “I wanted this to be more for awhile but didn’t know how to bring it up. Maybe the flowers were a bit on the nose.”

You run your hands across his face, just like you did so many times before, Peter nuzzles his face against your hand. “Ok so let’s make this official. Peter Parker, will you go steady with me?”

Peter chuckles, “Of course, I’ll go steady with you.” He kisses you deeply again, caressing your head as he does so. 

You're so caught up in the moment, in the kiss, that nothing else matters in that moment. The more he kissed you, the more your body craved every inch of his, and you felt just the tiniest of guilt for it.

“I know I agree to a nice simple dinner, but can we…”

“Oh god yes,” Peter smiles before lowering himself down your body, “But let’s start a little differently, can I?”

“Oh yes please…”

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Oh wow, first series done! I hoped you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I have another Peter Parker x Reader (since I'm still on the Parker train *choo choo*) in the tank, which I'll post Wednesday and have plans for a holiday theme PP x reader series, than maybe I'll take a break from writing Peter Parker??? Idk don't want to burn out on him but we'll see.

Anyway comment if you like, so I'm not just talking into the void, but no pressure! Thanks again and see you next time!

masterlist

[detectivereads]

Delicious in Dungeon vol 6 by Ryoko Kui

10/5

This post is for fan entertainment, I’m not being paid.

Dungeon Meshi Thursday!

Ok part 2 of the Red Dragon Arc, we need answers of what happen with Falin. I do have a lot to say about certain characters so this might be long.

I may rehash a rant that I had in Vol 5, just because it shows up a lot in here. I will get into it when it’s in full swing. But I also have some thoughts on what Laios did as well. I would like to apologize if I tend to go on a tangent about Shuro. This volume has a lot of drama.

Ok, Vol 6 it picks up where Laios’s group meets up with both Shuro’s group and Kabru group, after some friendly-ish banter between everyone, and getting a meal ready to eat.

I have issues with Maizuru, yes, I can see her as the brains of their group, however I don’t like how she comes off as superior towards Senshi. (I don’t like people being mean to Senshi. Senshi is a precious bean.)

With that aside, I did like Chilchuck in this volume, thinking which of the two people Laios and Senshi he needs to stick by in order to do damage control if they irritated someone of in the new groups, he picks Senshi. I can see with his enthusiastic nature towards dungeon cooking.

However, Chilchuck picked the wrong person to keep an eye on, because while that was happening Laios had given a play by play to Shuro on what happened, how Falin was brought back from the dead. Shuro freaks out, and when looking at the method of using old magic when it has been forbidden a non-magic person would freak out about.

I can see both sides.

Laios wanted his sister back and Marcille could do a spell that could bring her back. Now, Marcille knew what she was doing, and even said that the spell was nothing nefarious.

While Shuro being a non-magic user hearing this and obeying the law of black magic is outlawed, would immediately end relationships with Laios and Marcille.

This is the start of Laios being moved down in my favorite character tier. Laios was almost expecting Shuro not to tell anyone top side. Granted, I understand that Laios told Shuro out of respect towards the man.

Ok more drama happens with Chimera Falin entering the fight and totally whoops everyone, but at one point she retreats.

With a good chunk of the group dead, they bring back the magic users, but refuse to allow Marcille’s help fearing that she would cast black magic again.

Ok new rant time

Shuro had traveled with Marcille I want to say a for a while. Shuro should know Marcille by now she would cast powerful magic only when she needs it too. Marcille also probably could also read the room that everyone is on edge about the ancient magic she casted to bring Falin back.

I also understand since Shuro is not a magic user he and the other non-magic users have more of a reason to be a bit wary.

I am sorry, Shuro is one of my least favorites at this point when he does get into a fist fight with Laios. Shuro complains that Laios was unbearable to be around that he never takes the hints that Shuro wanted to be alone.

This is another thing that bothers me, again traveling with Laios and the rest of the group before the first red dragon fight. Shuro should have picked up that Laios to put it bluntly is not the brightest blub in the box.

My friend made a nice comparison, that when Chilchuck is getting annoyed with Laios he will tell Laios without beating around the bush. Laios then understands and backs off. Shuro doesn’t voice his issues with Laios. Some people may not pick up the hints that person A wants to be left alone, you have to be direct about.

Ok, rant over.

After the fight and some planning Shuro and Kabru’s group are going topside to tell the lord that there is a more powerful monster in the dungeon.

While Laios’s group is going to defeat the mad mage of the dungeon.

Laios group runs into some shapeshifters, that have taken on the form of the group. As the whole group agrees that Laios is Laios, they locked up the fake Laios and some very obvious fakes of the 3. Everyone agrees that Laios should be the one that figures out who is real and who is fake.

Now we meet a new character, a beast person named Izutsumi, ok I will tell you know I really didn’t like her when I first met them. She is demanding and she threatens the group if they don’t help Izutsumi, she will murder/hurt them.

Izutsumi wants Marcille to take the beast part of her curse off and keeps threating if they don’t help, she will kill them.

 Senshi being the generous soul that he is, makes her some risotto.

But Izutsumi is not really well versed in how to whole eating utensils, having issues holding a spoon but is still shoveling the food down quickly. I can overlook that no one is perfect, but Izutsumi doesn’t like mushrooms (Ok, I don’t care for mushrooms either.) But she lets them fall to the floor.

Senshi has the patience of a saint, but it looks like Senshi patience has run out (psyche! Senshi is a sweet bean) But then Izutsumi’s curse is activated and a Japanese looking ghost (I’m sorry the name of the ghost with a oni looking mask and craving knife escapes me at the moment.)

So, once again Senshi giving so wise wisdom and being a bad ass taking down the ghost/demon, why using utensils a certain way will maximize the usage.

However, Marcille breaks the news to Izutsumi, her curse is not going to come off. Which crushes Izutsumi. (Or Marcille is unfamiliar with the process of the removal, she also goes into detail about the different types of ancient magic. While she specializes in one type she doesn’t know this type.)

The last chapter, I got newfound of respect for Marcille.

Marcille is facing a nightmare and Laios goes into her dream and tries to help. Through his adventure, Laios understands the fear that Marcille faces being part elf.  I will leave it at that.

Ok I know I had some rants throughout this volume, but that doesn’t mean that I didn’t like it. I have my favorite characters (if it’s not obvious) while throughout the journey I get new respect for others or others are moved down on my favorites list.

[themememerchant]

I'M WATCHING GRAVITY FALLS FOR LIKE THE 13TH TIME AND JUST-

WhY??? IS NOBODY TALKING ABOUT CARPET DIEM???

Like, this episode was so fuking good!

Like-okay, I get that it's just sort of early show filler, but it's fucking amazing filler!

This episode had what I would consider to be some of the best jokes and one-liners in the whole series, and I've seen some parts in compilations here and there, but I feel like we collectively sleep on some of the raw chaos this episode brought!

Here are all of my favorite bits:

Dipper somehow hitting Stan in the head with a golf ball from the attic

Dipper having his leg gnawed by a wolf compared to staying with Mabel and her friends: "...This is still better."

Grenda walking out of an empty closet: "I don't know what I was kissing in there, but I have no regrets!"

Mabel poking dipper with a random twig: "Get ready to be poked by the fun stick!"

Dipper: "Washing clothes is a waste of time! I'm a busy guy!"

Mabel: "I'LL KILL YOU!!!"

The entire scene when Dipper and Mabel start freaking the fuck out over switching bodies

Dipper giving Stan a sandwich made from literal rocks after he ate an omelette shaped like his own face

Soos: "Nobody thinks it's cute when I lie naked on the living room floor."

Wendy just going:"Nope!" And walking away after seeing waddles screwing around with Soos' body

"I'm a creature of the night-But I'm also a creature of passion..." From Grenda's age-inappropriate romance novels

Stan choosing to step up for once and explain the birds and the bees to Dipper, unfortunately, Mabel was the one to receive "The Talk™" under horrible circumstances

Mcgucket finding a random talking pig in the streets, pulling out a knife and a fork from his beard, and proceeding to chase said pig across all of downtown in the hopes of a free meal

Waddles as Soos convincing Stan to give him a raise after Stan originally wanted to lower his salary

Candy switching bodies with Dipper for no reason other than she wanted to and Dipper being so done with everything

Mcgucket: "Come back! I wanna deep fry yer ears!"

Mcgucket as Candy: "I'VE REGAINED MY INNOCENCE!"

Dipper: "Well, I guess I'm a pig now. So that's a thing..."

- *proceeds to gnaw on an apple core*

Sheriff Blubs and deputy Durland presumably following a talking pig and a rabid old man to the mystery shack under the pretense of "-reports of excessive giggling."

Deputy Durland running into a wall five times for no reason after swapping into Dipper's body

Mcgucket threatening to eat Soos after everybody swapped back to their original bodies

- Mcgucket was really on point in regards to comedy this epsiode

Stan once again being hit in the head from a wayward golf ball

- Stan: "Why am I even out here at night?!"

The fact that Waddles, as Soos, somehow: gave a woman directions, presumably flirted with her, proposed to her at some point, and made his way back to the mystery shack in the span of what couldn't have been more than five hours tops

And that's all I can think of

I think I'll make this a regular thing, where I share my favorite bits and jokes from underrated pieces of media

IDK, maybe my sense of humor is just broken...

Either way, I have to go now, my planet needs me

Auf Wiedersehn, all ye rat children of the holy grail.

[toptierteaser]

Fatty Inspection (Pt. 1)

(Contains severe teasing)

Well, it looks like it’s that time again, fat boy!

                It’s measuring time! It’s time to size you up! Time for the weigh-in! It’s your slot for us to calculate how much damage you’ve done to yourself! To determine how big you’ve grown! To poke and prod and see what effects all that constant sitting around on that blubbery ass and stuffing your happy, satisfied face has done to the once-fit, handsome jock who waddles in, his sheepish face bushing as he sets his eyes on the weighing room.

                It’s funny, fatty. Watching you lower your tubby body into the measuring chair! It’s so awkward for you, now, isn’t it? Judging by how much pudge you’ve packed onto that fat frame of yours, you’re clearly struggling trying to retain your balance, trying to navigate around the shrinking world as your stomach and ass and thighs expand, as your chest softens and plumps up, as your face gets fatter, dumber, happier by the bite!

                You’re not used to it, are you, fat boy? All that extra chub? All that chunkiness? I can tell it surprises you, how snug the seat is. The seat that once easily accommodated your muscular body. And look at you, now, fatty! You’re BUSTING out of it! You’re larding out in every direction! Look at yourself! Look at the way your rolls poke through the bands on the sides! Look at the way your thighs don’t even fit, how your fat ass has started to push out over the edges of the chair. I’ll be taking note of that, fatty, don’t you fret.

                Okay, lard ass, now, let’s get started! Hmm…wow. Look how much further my finger sticks into your gut! Look how much farther I can push into your pudge…hehe, it’s much deeper than last time! Okay…now let’s measure the depth of the belly button…hehe…aww, is that ticklish piglet? Heh, you’ve gotten so sensitive since you began larding out. All that pudge must be extra ticklish, isn’t it fat ass? Okay, now hold still dude, or I’m gonna get an assistant in here to keep you still…that’s a good fatboy. Oh, wow! Look how deep your gut button has gotten! That’s got to be at least an inch deeper than your last inspection! Hmm…and I’ll make note, of course, that you’re more ticklish than usual.

                Alright, now for the measurements…round the chest. Woah, your boobs have gotten fatter! Hehe, look at that gut, fat boy! Damn, you are one round porker, aren’t you piggy? That’s got to be at least a few inches bigger than your last weigh-in! Hehe, but of course I could have told you that when you came in here, from the way your tummy pokes out underneath your shirt! From the way your thighs were rubbing like crazy! Oh, speaking of which…WOAH! Dude, look at these juicy thunder thighs! Heh, watch them shake! Damn, you’ve really pudged up in the last month! What have they been feeding you? You’re blubbing out like a balloon, piggy! No matter, I’ll just pull up your dietary records from the nutritionist afterwards, no need to embarrass yourself telling me how much you binged in the last month. I already know you’ve been stuffing your fat, pathetic face on the regular, pork chop!

                Alrighty, then…now for the piece de resistance! Wiggle on over here, piggy…that’s right…that’s a good fat ass…Woah…Oh…My…GOD. Dude! Look at this! Look at THIS! I can’t believe it, but your ass has gotten even fatter, fat ass! How the hell did you manage that, thiccums? Hmm? Hehe, what were you deliberately stuffing your cakes with cakes? Hehe. Sorry….dumb joke…though, of course, not as dumb as you…

                Well, there’s only one thing left to do piggy…I’ll need to do a thorough inspection of your exercise capabilities. Of course, I’ll be prescribing a diet regiment that I know your fat ass won’t follow, hehe! But, first, let’s gat that blubbering ass up on the treadmill, oinker!

(To be continued...)

[katyawriteswhump]

Home to you (Platonic Stobin Day fic)

Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles, Day 17, Platonic Stobin. A year or so after the events of S4, Steve and Robin both struggle to get on with life. They had NOT planned in any way to spend Christmas together…

WC: 984. Rating: T.

CW: None (except only a small Steddie subtext in this one!) Tags: Chronic pain, OCD, platonic soul mates.

***

Steve had just gotten through the kitchen door—Wham’s ‘Last Christmas’ blasting in his ears—when his boss got right in his face.

“You’re fired, Harrington.”

“Come on, man, no way.”

“You’re late. Again. You sleep through your alarm. When the order bell goes off, you sit and chill, like you don't freakin' hear.”

Oh, I hear, dipshit.

Your crappy bell sets off a stabbing pain between my eyes, and I’m blacking out, or shitting myself I’m having a stroke. So, yeah, I take a moment. I’m still your best waiter, plus it’s Christmas Eve!

He didn’t say it. Wished he had.

Ten minutes later, he was out on the snowy street, half-a-week’s pay in his pocket. Not enough to settle his rent. He was jobless, verging on homeless, out of meds. Yeah, he knew where he wanted to go. Christ, he missed her, but…

He sucked it up, called his mom: “Not working after all. I’ll be home tonight.”

“That’s… lovely. I’m afraid Aunt Lobelia has your room, and the couch is taken—”

“Wow. Can I go in the stable with the donkey?”

“Very droll, darling. For Christmas Eve nibbles, it’s the carparking we’re really concerned about.”

Carparking? Hilarious! He'd sold his car to pay medical bills. That was gonna be a fun conversation with his Dad.

In the queue at the bus depot, the fumes worsened his headache. He sat cross-legged on the ground, his face in his hands, spiralling deeper toward despair.

He heard mutters: “Is that guy drunk?”

Hilarious! Again! Like I could touch alcohol these days.

He wanted to punch somebody. That ache of loneliness settled in his guts, panged tightly in his chest.

Screw them.

He got on a Greyhound in the wrong direction. It sure felt like the right one to him.

***

She found him sitting on the steps of her dark university halls, curled forward with his arms around his knees. He was actually wearing that ghastly overlong scarf she knitted.

“Steve?” She wanted to blub, her rush of emotion kinda overwhelming. “Thought you were working Christmas, too?”

He looked up, groggily, started to rise. Two seconds later, they were in each other's arms.

“You're freezing,” she murmured, her cheek tucking against his scarf.

“Back at ya. There’s, like, frost on your stupid, crocheted bobble.” She hugged him a little tighter and took him inside. Beneath his jacket, he wore the ‘lame-ass’ sweater she knitted for him too.

They sat on her bed, sharing a tube of prawn cocktail Doritos. Everything pent up inside her burst free:

“My waitressing gig is the worst. Next a-hole who grabs my butt is gonna get slapped silly. Talk about objectification—it’s a billion times worse than Scoops.”

She noisily crunched a Dorito; he crunched one, too: God, I miss working together. I miss you so much.

“I’m totally behind on my college work. Nobody else gets it, because they, like, have money, and go home for Christmas, but my mom’s not talking to me, and—”

She paused for another crunch. They shared the last Dorito. He sank heavily against her shoulder, and before she knew it, she’d gotten his head in her lap.

I hate touching people, having them touch me. Then there’s you. Something else she didn’t need to say.

“It’s spookily quiet here, Steve, with the other students gone. I end up, like, checking every window and door a thousand times, because if it's spooky, there’s gonna be spooks, right? Or other supernatural shit, because after what we’ve seen, nothing can be ruled out, and don’t get me started on what I do when the lightbulbs flicker… uh, Steve? You okay? Too much prattling?”

“I’m with the spooks,” he mumbled. “Hot for the quiet. Though you’re not making my head any worse, so shoot.”

Nope. She’s done. With Steve, she can have this thing called comfortable silence.

She stroked his hair; it’s still damp, but they’re warming up, snuggled together. She skittered fingers across his brow, down his cheek. His face is toasty hot.

“Your fingers stink of prawns.” His snicker tugged her lips into a smile.

“You can talk, Mr Dorito-breath. I’ll wash.”

“Come straight back—you’re helping. Best treatment I got, till I can bag more opioids.”

She turned on the faucet, wanted to scream: I hate how nobody cares about your pain. I hate the price you paid for helping others, saving lives. You never ask for help. Why can’t anybody see? And then there’s Eddie. Healing all alone, while living on the run...

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, when they’re settled back as they were.

“What the hell for?” He slid his hand under his cheek, taking some weight off her knee.

“Oh… nothing. I guess, it was… nothing.”

“You think about Eddie much?” He tugged that smile from her again, this time blurred with tears. Brain-share, huh?

“Only every single day.”

“Yeeeah. Me too.” He unleashed a long, shuddering sigh. “He called last month. I'd drop everything and run to him, if he just... said the word."

"Did YOU say the word yet?"

A faint harrumph.

"If you never tell Eddie how you feel, Dingus—"

"Hey, is it midnight yet?”

“Yeah." She shook her head, lovingly. "Merry Christmas, Steve.”

“Merry… Christmmm…”

He sighed again, long and slow. She sensed immediately that he’d fallen asleep. 

That night, she only checked the windows and doors twice.

***

It was great to wake without an alarm piercing his skull. Without that grind of loneliness in his gut.

They’d squished into the single bed. He’d gotten most of the pillow, and she’d hogged most of the blanket. His head hurt less, and Robin’s soft snores had to be one of the few sounds in the world that didn’t bug him.

Okay, they grated a bit. He was still stupidly relieved to be here.

He curled up behind her, spooning like a pair of furry sloths, and went back to sleep.

[newsatsix1986]

The Newsreader Wins Big At The 2024 AACTA Awards! 💖🎉😍

What. A. Week. 😍😍😍

Over the course of three days, the beautiful people of The Newsreader have smashed the AACTA Awards, being one of the two most awarded shows of the 2024 awards, and the most nominated show of them all. They have scooped up five in total, which is huge! Huge, I tell you!

I wasn't able to watch the ceremony live due to family commitments, but I blubbed in the car on the way home hearing the beautiful news that the show, Anna Torv and Hunter Page-Lochard snagged their awards and watching these beautiful acceptance speeches on Twitter. This adds onto Emma Freeman and Zed Dragojlovich's wins for direction and costume design on Thursday.

The sense of pride I feel for these beautiful humans who work so tirelelssly to create magical stories for us to hold close and love dearly is immense. I am so so proud to unofficially represent them through News At Six 1986. Everyone looked stunning and so happy to be there, and the gratitude they expressed in their acceptance speeches was incredibly heartwarming. In particular, Michael and Michelle's bag of names, and Anna showering Sam with so much love on stage. As if my eyes weren't watery enough! ����

To this incredible cast and crew, us viewers say thank you to YOU. Thank you for creating this extraordinary story that has sparked so many connections, creative inspiration and meaningful friendships for more people than you could have all imagined was possible. Thank you for dedicating your lives to telling special stories, and for making this show the special shining star it is. I for one am so unbelievably proud of all of you.

Team Newsreader wins once again! Hooray! 💖🎉🌟

[echantedtoon]

Friskriel Week Day 2

Day 2: Save *This takes place in the Au Oceantale since I wanted to try exploring this au more*

Well this certainly was a pickle wasn't it. Imagine just going for a swim with your best friend and enjoying a nice day at the beach to just relax, simple right? Yeah- Nope. A storm had blown in unexpectedly and swept through the sea just a few hours after they arrived. All she wanted was to just relax around on her floaty, not be swept out to the middle of the gigantic lake with no way back..Well, she could swim but those waves didn't look so promising against her mediocre swimming skills, at least if she stayed on the floaty she could stay afloat and not worry about sinking.

But now she had another problem...The sky was starting to get darker by the minute and she wasn't too sure which direction was the way back to shore anymore. It was kinda hard to tell with the waves being so tall and her getting tossed back and forth like a ragdoll on a beach ball wasn't the best feeling in the world, and she was starting to feel like puking. Man....She was starting to get tired of this-

"HELP!! ANYONE?!" Don't ask why she thought it was a good idea to start shouting for a friend who couldn't help her, might've been just a reflex or a hope but it would soon lead to more bad than good...Or would it? "HELP?! HEL-"

A wave chose that exact moment to rear it's ugly head and crash down over the poor human's body, the wind was knocked outta her like a rock slammed into her. Immediately air bubbles surrounded her form as she unceremoniously screamed from the hurtful impact, darkness surrounded her form as the stormy waves above continued to rattle about like some sort of punisher. It was surprisingly....calm in the dark black surrounding her. Almost like the night. Completely silent. A peaceful way to go if she didn't want to die.

It was when she turned and found two blue eyes and a mouth full of teeth staring at her did she scream again.

You know....It's really troubling trying to find some peace somewhere where there's not a lot available just swimming around, so imagine his luck when he stumbled across a seemingly dumb person just floating about in the middle of his territory. Kinda dumb being all the way out here in the middle of the dam storm, but who was he to judge. A human's a human. A quick wave was able to knock whoever the person was over and into the water where he waited. He grumbled just thinking about it... But that thought soon vanished after seeing her face.

UGH- He hated puny fighters. This one wasn't worth the trouble...Not enough courage on her. He also didn't appreciate the bubbles shoved in his face when she screamed again and started kicking up towards the surface. His face scrunched up in annoyance. Did everyone always have to be so rude when they see a gigantic aquatic goat monster looking at them? Oh well. At least he got to do the scaring part he always liked.

Ounce she made it back up through the swaying surface, coughing and spitting out out her lungs, a dark shadow loomed out from under her. In a split second the shadow had bust through the waves with ease. Water splashed over her, almost sending her down under the water again.

"AHAHAHAHAHAHA! YOU FOOOOOL!!!" His raspy voice boomed over the noise of the waves and wind. "Those who enter my territory are doomed to DIE! Wha- H-HEY!" He flinched back when she yelped and instinctively grabbed onto him to keep from being drowned down by a wave. "HEY! Do you have a death wish! Those who ever as much as touch me are bound to- HEY! STOP DROWNING WHEN IM TRYING TO THREATEN YOU!!"

With a blub sound another wave sent her under. He groaned. Did his enemies ALWAYS have to make things more difficult like this? He stuck his hand back under the waves and a moment later he pulled the shivering, sputtering human back out of the bobbing water. She coughed and spat out some of the salt water, heaving and looking up at him.

".....*sigh* You know what? Screw this. My voice isn't worth some drowned human."

He began turning in the opposite direction and making swimming through the waves look like a breeze. She gave him a confused. "Where-....W-Where are we g-g-going?"

"Im dumping you on the shore. You're not worth the trouble of straining my voice."

[agentsky1705]

my new OC! SCP-13983

Item #: SCP-13983

Object Class: Euclid

Special Containment Procedures: [Living beings are not allowed to come into direct contact with the item. If that has happened nonetheless, personell need to be absolutely sure of the item’s presence inside the containment before removing the living being the item came into contact with.]

Description: [an unknown creature, an alien. It‘s about as big as a human palm, and appears to be a snail-like thing. It‘s body consists out of slime, and it leaves behind a trail of a glittery, watery substance. It can move it’s eyes around it’s body, and it‘s colors change based on it‘s emotions. It‘s name seems to be „blublub“ and it is sentient.

COMMUNICATION

yellow = happiness, excitement

orange = laughter, amusement

red = offense , anger

pink = love, pleasure

purple = surprise, shock

teal = neutral, resting

blue = sadness

green = curiosity

brown = disgust

black = fear

white = safety

invisibility = danger

shooting sticky slime = defense mechanism

-) “blub!” means “yes”

-) “blublub.” means “no”

INFORMATION

-) came out of the stomach of a student that died shortly after

-) according to itself, it originates from another planet

-) it claims not to know death and time

-) it claims not to be able to die

RESEARCH DURING CONTAINMENT

SCP-13983 appears to be able to merge with any living being. Researchers have found that it is very resistant to outside forces, no materials influence it’s color change. That leads to the assumption that the entity’s colors are changed by it’s emotions. It is capable of understanding any human language, but only speaks in blubbering noises and by changing it’s body’s color.

SCP-13983 merged with one of the researchers. The researcher reported slowed movements, a clouded mind and the presence of the entity within both his body and mind during the merging duration. His skin took on a glittery sheen, this seems to be the case with every being the entity inhibits.

The entity itself reports knowing all available details about the researcher’s body and his mind. This includes emotions, vitals, sensations and memories.

During another test, the entity reported being able to see the researcher’s dreams while he slept. The entity seems to seek to inhibit as many beings as possible, as it gains the knowledge and experience of each one.

After the entity left the researcher’s body, there were no repercussive effects. It seems that the entity is able to merge with any living being at will, scan it’s body and mind, gain all it’s experience and knowledge and leave the being unharmed.

The entity reports the presence of a “soul” within every living being, which it merges with. It seems to feel the being’s life “shut off” as it passes away. If the being which the scp is inhabiting passes away while it is still merged with it, he scp immediately gets ejected from it’s body.

The entity killed a human girl when it broke free from it’s body, leading to the initial alert about it. In containment, it has been asked to do this again on a mouse. The results were that the entity needs a certain amount of space to materialize. This means that if the entity attempts to materialize within a living being, it will explode. This means that the entity is able to kill any living being it comes into contact with at will, though it has shown no desire to do so.

The entity seems to have no sense of morality and it does not understand death or time, claiming that those do not exist on it’s planet. Despite it’s lack of morality, the entity is friendly and cooperative in nature. It seems that it’s actions are controlled purely by it’s emotions.

SCP-13973 claims to have no knowledge of the reason of it’s appearance within the student’s body, and does not reoccur any memories before that moment. The entity itself supposes that it’s species, “blob”, might have put it there for reproductive purposes.]

**Test 1:** Testing the entity’s reaction to different materials, and to find an adequate containment unit that it cannot breach.

**Test 2:** Testing the limits of the entity’s consciousness-merge ability, to determine if it can merge with non-physical things such as concepts or forces of nature, and to find the maximum size it can merge with.

**Test 3:** Testing the entity’s limits in regards to the information transfer ability, to determine if it can also absorb knowledge that is hidden away from the source individual or if it has any limits in the knowledge it can gain.

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[personalfictionals]

Asgore knows that it may have been a bit too soon to reveal that to Drake, but, it's better to not beat around the bushes and keep Drake aware of what is really going on and what he's essentially getting himself into. It's to keep him safe and careful around monsters. Many aren't going to hurt him outright. But, to be better safe then sorry in that case. Asriel still being a smiling and warm force would keep Drake not too stressed on the situation by hopping down from his seat and lightly pulling onto his hand. "C'mon! C'mon! I wanna show you my room before we go to sleep!" With that, young Drake and Asriel were dragged off towards the otherside of the house. Asgore sighing ruffling his forehead.

"Should I have told him that so soon? I feel as though it might have been a bad idea." He confesses to Toriel who placed her own hand onto his. "I think it was a lot to put onto him, but, I think it was for the better to keep him aware. I'm sure he'll understand soon." With that, Asgore decided to help with the dishes as Toriel would begin to head towards the direction of Asriel's room to make sure he's not getting too hyped up before bed and made sure to do his nightly routine before bed. Toriel knows he's just trying to help distract Drake. So; now that way Drake could sleep easier. Entering their room, would Drake notice it's somewhat similar to the guest room, although a tiny bit bigger.

"Isn't it cool? I even have a nightlight here that makes the dark all starry!" He said kneeling down next to the blub with a cute little planet design. The room itself only lit by a small lightbulb next to Asriel's nightstand. Drake tilted his head a bit. He's always wanted one.

"I nevah had a nightloight b'fore. Uh.. I-I Don'.. I don't loike sleepin' inna dark. M'too scared of it. Please don' laugh." Drake answered back nervously. Asriel would raise a brow. "Why would I laugh? I think the dark can be scary too. But, I also like to remember that we're super duper safe here in the palace, so nothing could hurt us. M-Maybe you can think of that too?" Asriel suggested to Drake which, Drake chuckled pitifully. The thought is nice, but, that isn't the reason WHY he's scared of the dark. Asriel wouldn't understand. But, he thanks him for trying to help. "Don't worry. Mom and dad are also here to protect us. They're the most strongest monsters I know!" Asriel's right in a sense. He wouldn't have to worry about anyone hurting him here.

For now, Drake would stand back up and look around Asriel's room where the two were on a short tour around the room itself. Cozy. Warm. Drake never had that at the orphanage. Sometimes it got too cold. Or too hot. Here? It's JUST perfect. "Hey Drake?" Asriel began. "Don't worry. You're safe here! It'll be okay." Drake sighs and gives a weak smile. "Thanks Asriel. I-I uh.. don' wanna take up too much of yur toime. Yur mum probably would get mad ah me fer keepin' y'up too late." Drake would smile and wave goodbye. "Night, Asriel. Thanks for showin' me yur room." Drake left Asriel to his own devices. Drake seemed rather quick to cut conversation and Asriel wasn't sure why. Maybe he's just shy? This is his first day in the Underground he supposed. Asriel would see him the morning anyway, so, he didn't have to worry too much. Asriel should get ready for bed too.

Drake coughed a little bit, flustering in shame at his sudden burst of starvation that had creeped at him. He needed to be more careful about that. Drake sheepishly laughs. "Thank you, Miss Toriel, I.. jus' haven' ate all day s' all!" Trying to hide the fact he's been without good food for 3 months. So; He's just trying to stuff his tummy as best as he could. More silently eating would Asriel break the silence of the dinner table next to him where Drake's attention would fall onto the younger monster. Where.. he came from? Oh, right. He probably should talk a little more about himself. Though Toriel seemed to be a little hesistant on Asriel asking about it. Sipping his water, Drake shook his head. "No.. no it's okay. Uhm, I come from a place called England. Err.. Unless this place s' undah England?" Drake sounded confused. Regardless, Asriel shook his head at knowing anything about it. Asgore smiled and answered Drake.

"No, Drake. We're from entirely different country altogether. You're a very long way from home. You're under a place called Ebbott Mountain. Most humans who come here are from the Barrier or from a few holes above us. Although we cannot reach them as the holes themselves are attached to the proximity of the Barrier." Asgore reveals. Which to Drake asks next. "What... barrier..?" Drake sounded concerned. Asgore sighs knowing this conversation was going to come up sooner.

"Remember how I told you earlier how monsters cannot leave? This is due to a magical barrier that.. humans have placed on the mountain. I believe it is time for you to understand our history Drake, and why monsters are afraid of humans." Asgore catches a breath. "This is only to keep you informed about our situation. Around a few centuries ago, and yes I mean that in hundreds of years as boss monsters like ourselves are able to live more longer then normal monsters. A war broke out between human and monster kind. Humans of a neighboring country had found out about monster kind, and how we lived in a secret area from them. Humans, fascinated at first, worked along side us and helped us create a better future. We learned from them as they did from us. We exchanged technologies, weapons, resources and they taught us a lot about magic. Although, for some reason, they grew more greedy about their knowledge and started to take more and more..." Asgore finishes his plate.

"And thusly, a terrible war for power and resources began. Humans began to kill monsters, and... we as well as humans." Drake listened intently, keeping his eyes on Asgore. "This war lasted for centuries. And only VERY recently did it just end. So; monsters are still trying to get used to humans and forgive them. Although, many can't. Which is why it is safer for you here with us. We may not be able to entirely return you back to England. But, we can make things as comfortable here as possible." This is a lot for Drake to take in, truthfully. He exhales as he finishes his own plate. "I... I see now. That's why the monsters earlier were crowding around me. They.. they wanted to hurt me?" Asgore hummed in disagreement.

"Not at all. Some were angry. Some were confused. Some curious. But, they wouldn't do anything outright, I don't think. If they had they would have to answer to me or Toriel." To which Toriel spoke. "I am sorry that this is the way things had to turn out, but we promise you that you'll be safe at New Home. I assure you. I suppose that things have been dramatic enough for one night. I should prepare everyone for bed." Toriel's right. Drake didn't sleep TOO well and maybe after one scene, he could sleep more easier tonight. Drake would nod. "I'm sorry tha' happened to you guys. I would.. I would nevah hurt anyone." Toriel smiled softly. "I know, dear. Most monsters have a sense for someone's soul purity. But, that is a discussion for another day. Time for bed Asriel. You too Drake. We have a strict 10:00 PM curfew."

[iwriteforharry]

married part 7- h.s imagine

you can read the previous part here

you can find all my writing here

“This hotel really is beautiful. I can see why Niall and Emma wanted to have their wedding here.” You thought out loud as you looked around the hotel lobby.

Harry nodded his head as he stared down at his lap, his foot tapping anxiously. You sighed. You had a million and one thoughts going through your mind. You didn’t know how to fit everything you wanted to say in one sentence. So you started with the obvious thing you had to say.

“I’m sorry, Harry.”

Harry took his gaze off his fighting to fingers to look at you as you sat down on the spot next to him. He watched as you played with the hem of your dress. “When you told me you were marrying Kimberly…I cried so hard I thought I was going to run out of tears. When your wedding day finally came up, I remember crying so hard seeing you in your tux ready to marry someone who wasn’t me. But. I think what hurt the most was when you found out about my feelings for you last year…you gave up on us.”

Harry bit down on his bottom lip softly, shame written clearly on his forehead. You glanced at him before you sighed, “You were a married man, Harry. Never would I ever do something that could potentially hurt your marriage. Never would I ever ruin your chance of happiness. Yes. I was in love with you. But I would’ve gotten over it. We could’ve still been friends. You didn’t have to shut me out for a year. You didn’t have to break our birthday tradition.”

Harry closed his eyes momentarily. Harry doesn’t have a lot of regrets in his life, for he thinks that everything happens for a reason, whether it was good or not. However, missing your birthday the way that he did will always be his biggest regret.

“I think all the hurt I’ve felt finally caught up to me. That’s why I said what I did last night.” You stared into Harry’s green eyes before you softly grabbed his hand. “I told you that I was in love with Lucas.” Harry grimaced as he had to hear you say you loved another man for the second time within 24 hours. “But I’m not.” You finished.

Harry’s eyes went wide. He held your hand tighter. “What?” Harry asked. You looked down at your hands holding each other as you rubbed small circles on Harry’s hand with your thumb. “I told you I was in love with Lucas.” You looked up at Harry. “When really I’m in love with you. I don’t think I’ll ever stop being in love with you.”

Harry was quick to close the gap between the two of you. He placed both his hands on the sides of your cheeks as he kissed you. You sighed against Harry’s lips as you kissed him back. Harry pulled away and leant his forehead against yours. “I’m so sorry, Y/N.” Harry whispered. You shrugged your shoulders as you placed one of your hands on top of his. “We both are.”

Emma looked at the entrance. She let out a squeal as she placed her hands on her cheeks. Niall looked at her, a piece of cake stuffed in his mouth, “What?” Emma nodded her head towards the door. Niall looked over and instantly his eyes went wide.

You and Harry walked over to the newly wed couple with your hands interlocked together. Harry leaned in and gave Niall a “bro hug” with his hand still holding yours. “Congratulations you guys! I just-”

“Emma. We’re in an alternative universe. It’s just us. We need to somehow gain control of these foreign creatures and declare land on this planet.” Niall said as he grabbed his wife.

Emma flicked Niall’s head before she turned to you and Harry. “What’s going on, here?” she smirked as she crossed her arms together.

Harry looked down at your hands before he looked back at you. “Just two best friends finding their way back, that’s all.”

You glanced at your hands and smiled. Emma let out a squeal as she pulled you into a hug. Niall let out a puff of air and smiled. He pulled Harry in for another hug and whispered in his ear, “It’s about damn time.”

Harry rolled his eyes playfully before he pulled you back to him. “I know it’s your wedding and all but me and Y/N have a lot to catch up on.” Emma nodded her head as she placed her hand on Niall’s chest. “We completed understand.”

Niall leaned into you and motioned you to come closer. “Make sure you use a condom.” Your eyes went wide before you flicked Niall’s ear. “Niall!” Niall raised his hands up in defense, “You guys have been in love with each other for years! Something’s bound to happen!”

You buried your head into Harry’s shoulder while he chuckled. With one last goodbye and congratulations, the two of you were off.

You had your arms crossed as you were walking around Harry’s still bare apartment. “So you decided to move?” You called out as you stopped in front of the bookcase he had at the side of the room. “Sort of. Kimberly wanted the apartment” Harry said sheepishly from the kitchen. You pursed your lips together as you looked at all the knickknacks Harry had on his bookshelf. You let out a chuckle as your eyes bounced to each item: a tiny statue of a frog, a ring Harry used to always wear when you guys were younger but outgrew (it broke his heart when he couldn’t even wear it on his pinky finger), his name tag from when he used to work at the bakery back home, his polaroid camera.

Your eyes landed on the framed picture of the two of you. You could feel your heart rate quicken. Even though you guys haven’t talked to each other in a year and even though he still had a lot to unpack; Harry still put up a framed picture of the two of you. You looked towards the kitchen and smiled. You shook your head as you stared off into the ground while chuckling.

“Y/N! Harry’s here!” Your mother shouted from the bottom of the stairs. You stared at yourself in the mirror and sighed. You smiled and quickly frowned when you saw your braces. You sighed as you grabbed your backpack and headed downstairs. Harry was sitting at the breakfast table in the new uniform you guys were required to wear in high school.

Your mom placed a glass of orange juice in front of Harry and took her seat. “I can’t believe you guys are in high school already.” You placed your chin in your hand and mumbled, “I can’t believe I’m starting my first year of high school in braces.”

A 15 year old Harry with hair that basically looked like a bird’s nest on top of his head swallowed his food. He patted your shoulders. “I keep telling you that you look fine, Y/N.” Your mom nodded her head as she began to leave the room, “He’s right, sweetie. Everyone gets braces at your age.”

You picked up your fork and began picking at your eggs. “Harry doesn’t have braces.” Harry let out a chuckle as he took a sip of his juice. Your mom came back with a camera and stood in front of you two on the other side of the table. “Come on, before you guys are late. We need to take a picture of your first day of high school!”

Harry leaned in closer to you and smiled. You looked at the camera and smiled a closed lip smile. The flash off and Harry scowled at you. “Love, that’s not a genuine smile.”

You let out a puff of air while you leaned back into your chair. “I don’t want to smile with my braces, H.”

Harry shook his head as he turned his body to face you properly. “Y/N, I think you look beautiful with your braces and I know for a fact that you’ll look beautiful once they come off. Don’t let them hide away that gorgeous smile I love so much.”

Your cheeks were quick to blush. You turned to your mom and let out a mumbled, “Fine. Let’s take another one.”

Your mom smiled as she got the camera ready once more. You smiled, braces in full show. Harry placed his arm around you as he smiled as well.

Through your entire friendship with Harry, he made sure you never questioned your beauty or worth. He was the first boy to ever tell you that you were beautiful. Maybe that’s why you fell for Harry as hard and as fast as you did. Harry was genuine and he was forgiving. He made sure everyone felt welcomed and he made sure everyone knew how much they meant to him. You fell in love with Harry for just the kindness he had in his heart.

Your thoughts were soon interrupted as Harry finally emerged from the kitchen. In his hands was a small muffin with a lit candle on top of it. He was quietly humming “Happy Birthday” as he walked closer to you.

You placed your hand on your mouth as your eyes brimmed with tears. Once the song was over Harry whispered, “To make up for the tradition I broke.” You smiled before you blew out the candle. Harry placed the muffin down on one of the shelves on the bookcase before he pulled you into your second kiss that night.

You and Harry were sitting down on his bed with your backs against the headboard. You had your head resting on his shoulder as Harry had his arm around you, tracing small circles on your shoulder. It was silent for a long time but you guys didn’t mind. What you guys needed right now was each other.

Suddenly Harry’s phone dinged, telling him he got a text message. He grabbed his phone from the night stand and sighed as he read the text. Your eyes glanced over to the screen.

From Kimberly: Don’t forget out meeting tomorrow.

Harry locked his phone before he placed it back onto the night stand. You bit your bottom lip, mentally debating whether or not this was a sensitive topic for Harry. “How did you guys get to the decision to get a divorce?”

Harry sighed as he stared at the wall in front of him.

Harry kicked a rock as he was walking along the sidewalk. He had his hands in his coat pockets as he was looking at the ground. Kimberly kicked him out once again. She claimed that she “needed space from him.”

Ever since Harry found out about your true feelings for him, his relationship with Kimberly started to change. He feels ashamed and disgusted with himself but he couldn’t help it. After knowing how you felt about him, he couldn’t help but question his marriage. That’s when the arguments started happening. Kimberly would yell and accuse Harry of not fully being in the marriage. Kimberly even went as far as accusing him of cheating.

Harry would never cheat on a woman. Ever.

His mother and Gemma always taught him the importance of a woman’s worth. He would never do something so stupid in his life.

But did he cheat? Did he cheat emotionally?

Was he cheating when he couldn’t push his feelings for you aside? Was it cheating when you crept into his mind when he was looking at Kimberly? Was it cheating when Harry would creep on your social medias, wondering if you were taking care of yourself? Was it cheating when the only concern Harry had was whether or not you moved on?

Harry sighed as he sat down on a bus bench. He was staring at every person walking by. Surely everyone was having a better night than he was right now. As he was staring off, his eyes landed on a familiar person. He let out a gasp. His heart rate started to quicken and he could feel butterflies fluttering in his stomach.

It was you.

You were walking on the other side of the street, a bag of takeout in your hands. Harry mentally debated whether or not he should run over and try to talk to you. It’s been three months, would you even want to talk to him?

The first thing he noticed was how long your hair has gotten. He noticed that you had your headphones in. Were you listening to the latest Coldplay song because you loved the band so much? Or were you talking to your mom, telling her about the latest news at work? The next thing he noticed was the bag of food you were holding. Was it just for you? Or were you going to share it with someone that wasn’t him?

As you walked away and your body was becoming smaller and smaller in the distance, Harry couldn’t help but let out a sniffle. His eyes started to water as he came to the realization you were out of his life. Sure he brought this upon himself but after seeing you for the first time in three months, it broke his heart.

“When I saw you that day, I realized that you were the only thing on my mind. I didn’t care that I was in a fight with Kimberly, I didn’t care that I was freezing my ass off on a bus bench. All I could see was you. That’s when I finally realized I was being fair to Kimberly. She deserves someone that would be able to love her properly and I couldn’t do that when you were on my mind.”

You turned your body so that you were sitting in front of Harry. You grabbed his hand. “Do you regret getting married?”

Harry placed his other hand on the side of your cheek. “I regret not marrying you.”

From Harry: Dinner tonight, love?

You smiled as you glanced at your phone on your desk. Your coworker, Olivia, was sitting in the chair in front of your desk. Her eyebrows perked up at you, “Alright. Spill. You’ve been smiling at your phone the entire day. Did something happen last night?”

After texting Harry a quick “yes”, you placed your phone into your desk drawer. “Actually-” But you were cut short as you saw the last person you expected to see, marching up to your desk. You quickly got up, “Kimberly?”

Kimberly walked straight up to you, nothing but venom in her eyes. Through gritted teeth, she said, “Fucking home wrecker.” before her hand collided with your cheek.

eh. i liked how i started this...not sure about how i ended it lol. let me know what you guys thought/ want to see happen next! 

you can read part 8 here

[harryswanderlust]

Stolen

warnings: none

requested: nope

feedback is appreciated and let me know if you want another part!

It‘s really late at night, probably around eleven o’clock or so, when Harry pulls up into the driveway of Y/N’s house. Y/N’s waiting for him outside on her front porch with her legs crossed and arms wrapped around her torso.

When Harry had texted her a couple hours earlier asking her if she wanted to go see a movie he knew she was confused, thinking he didn’t mean tonight. She had probably figured he meant sometime in the near future, but he had insisted that they must go tonight, even if that means Y/N has to sneak out. Harry’s already on pretty thin ice with Y/N’s parents, having always been a troublemaker in their eyes, and if she gets caught he knows tonight will be the last he sees of her. Her parents have good reason to merely tolerate the boy though. Just last week Harry convinced her to cut class with him so he could go get another tattoo for his eighteenth birthday; two swallows on his chest.

Harry can’t help how he acts however, especially when it comes to Y/N. Being around her makes his head spin and he is constantly around her. He can’t stay away from her for more than a few hours at most. Harry’s not sure how it’s happened. For nearly six years she’s been nothing more than his best friend, but now she’s the only girl who’s got his heart fluttering erratically every time he lays eyes on her. He wants to tell her or give her a sign of some sort; feels as though he has to because he swears he’ll die if he doesn’t soon find out whether or not she feels the same way. He can’t take it anymore, and that’s why they have to go out tonight.

“This better be a good movie, Styles. Because this might be the end of our friendship,” Y/N says when she opens his car door and slips into the passenger’s seat.

“Relax, your parents aren’t going to find out. It’s not that big of a deal. You’re only going out past curfew,” Harry responds. He shifts his gears into reverse and backs out of her driveway. He moves his hand to click his headlights back on, having turned them off to avoid possibly waking Y/N’s parents.

“That’s really dangerous, you know. I hope you didn’t drive over here with them off,” Y/N quips.

Harry rolls his eyes, “As a matter of fact I didn’t. You should be thanking me, you know. I’m the reason you’ll have great stories to tell your future children.”

Now it’s Y/N’s turn to roll her eyes. “Whatever, Harry.”

Twenty minutes later they’re pulling into the parking lot of the movie theater, practically empty with the exception of one or two cars, and then head inside. They stop to get the same large bowl of overly buttered popcorn and fizzy drinks they love, like they do every single time they hit the theater, before they grab their seats.

They sit next to each other, eyes trained on the big screen in front of them as the bright light continuously dances across their faces. Y/N’s completely enthralled by the movie playing before her, but as time goes on Harry can’t keep his gaze from lingering on Y/N. He’s got his eyes locked on her, unable to pull away because she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Again, he’s not sure how he’s fallen for the girl sitting only a few inches away from him, but he’s certain by now that he loves her. It’s the way she’s smiling, eyes crinkling a little at the sides and gleaming with so much happiness, that’s making Harry swoon so much.

Harry knows he should be ashamed of literally staring at her. He knows, but who can blame him? She’s stolen his heart and even his thoughts at the moment. Thoughts of her soft sweet lips and how nice they would feel on his very own are circling his brain like poison. He wishes he could just go for it; kiss her. Kiss the gorgeous girl next to him like he’s dreamed of. Taste her to see if it’s anything like how he’s imagined, which he’s sure it is.

“Harry, you’re staring. Do I have something on my face?” Y/N asks, momentarily interrupting his contemplation.

“No,” he answers sheepishly, feeling embarrassed. “You’re just so beautiful.”

Harry didn’t expect the compliment to fall out of his mouth, but he can see Y/N blushing despite it being so dark. He has to admit that causing her to now feel flustered by him entices him more. Harry’s got her right where he wants her with her biting her lip and fidgeting with one of the many rings she always wears, wondering what he’s going to say or do next.

The roles are now reversed and she’s now sweating like he has been the entire night. He’s decided that this is his chance. He’s decided that he can’t wait anymore because his desperation is about to be the death of him. He can’t spend another second wondering or wishing anymore.

He leans over, his eagerness being a bit of a surprise to him, as he wraps his hands around the sides of Y/N’s face to pull her closer and smash his lips against hers. Her mouth is so warm and tastes buttery from the popcorn they’ve shared, but Harry loves it. The pleasure from her mouth is touching every nerve in his body. She’s absolutely heavenly, and Harry swears he’s dreaming.

“Harry...” Y/N breathes. He knows he’s completely shocked her, probably even scared her a little, but God the way she says his name makes him melt into her even more.

While Harry doesn’t want to stop kissing her, he does care more about her feeling safe with him than his own selfish needs. He reluctantly detaches his lips from hers and wipes the corners of his mouth with his thumb. Y/N looks away from him, not saying anything, her teeth going back to biting her bottom lip again.

Harry’s afraid – more than afraid actually. He’s terrified. Terrified that this is the end of things for him. Terrified that she doesn’t feel the same way he does and now hates him, or that he’s destroyed their entire relationship.

“Please say something,” he pleads through a whisper.

“I uh...wow. Do you kiss all your little girlfriends like that?” She laughs at him and it causes his heart to sink.

He knows she’s messing with him – mostly. They still feel like a punch in the stomach to him though. Harry’s aware of how much of a player he is. He’s no stranger to random hookups with the many girls that roam the hallways of his high school, and everyone knows this. Including Y/N, which means that this is all just a joke to her or really weird. Either way, Harry couldn’t be more serious than he is right now.

“I’ve never kissed anyone like that before,” Harry mumbles.

“Like how, Harry?” Y/N asks. She brings her eyes to meet his.

“Like I’m in love with them,” he answers, still mumbling as he speaks. Harry’s eyes are trained on fingers that are currently tapping on the arm rest of his seat, but Harry can see Y/N shifting around from the corners of them.

“So you’re in love with me?”

She’s doing the lip biting thing again and if Harry didn’t want to disappear before, he certainly does now. He’s mentally hitting himself for opening his mouth and also for kissing her. He couldn’t keep his emotions under wraps for a little while longer until they graduate? They’re graduating soon enough, and after that they’ll have to go their separate ways. If he hadn’t gone and screwed things up tonight things between them would have been left okay. No regrets, no heartache. It would have been better that way right? He didn’t really need to confess to her did he?

“Didn’t I make it pretty obvious?”

“I think I‘d like for you to show me again...” Y/N says.

Harry frowns, taking a second to fully comprehend what she means. Once the realization hits him, he knows she wants him too. Harry wastes no time wrapping his hands around her waist to bring her closer to him and attach his lips to hers once more. Harry’s heart is beating so loud he’s sure Y/N can hear it, and if there was anyone else in the theater with them then they could hear it too. Harry’s forehead touches hers, their noses brushing against each others. He’s found a way to control himself, and gently presses a kiss to her lips this time. It’s short and sweet, despite the fact that Harry could spend hours kissing her if she’d let him. But the way Y/N’s giggling and hiding her face in the crook of his neck tells him that this is the start of something new for them.

The ending is literally the worst I know. I’m sorry xx

[itsthemysterykids]

… I’m bored

Mabel: Dipper, where are you? Shield me with your forehead!

—

Dipper: I'm every bit as cool as Robbie. And if I'm not, let me be struck by-- *lightning flashes overhead* --a flying ice cream truck! ia flying ice cream truck plummets in his direction* AND LIVE!

*The flying ice cream truck stops just above Dipper, then drops onto him gently*

—

Lili: We've been duped!

Neil: Duped!

Lili: Bamboozled!

Neil: We've been smeckledorfed!

Lili: That's not even a word and I agree with ya!

—

Norman: Ice?! There's never been any ice! Ice is just a myth!

—

Wybie: *In a maid’s uniform; presenting a glass of lemonade to Raz* Here you go, Your Majesty.

Raz: I can't drink this!

Wybie: Why not?

Raz: Are you blind? Just look at it!

Wybie: … What about it?

Raz: That lemon has three seeds in it! That's an odd number! I can't eat anything odd-numbered!

Wybie: Fine, I'll take it out!

Raz: It's already contaminated by the bad lemon! It won't work!

Wybie: That makes two things in this house that won't work.

Raz: Then go fix them.

Wybie: Two things that won't...work!

—

Sheriff Blubs: You people act like you've committed a murder.

Raz: … Okay, I confess! Coraline killed him!

Coraline: What?! You can't pin this whole rep on me!

Raz: She was insane! Out of control! She would've killed me too if you hadn't come along!

Coraline: It was all Raz's idea!

Raz: Put her down now! She's a mad dog!

Coraline: HE WEARS CURLERS TO BED!!

Raz: Wait! It's not what you think!

Deputy Durland: What are you two talking about?

Raz: … We killed a health inspector!! Buried him, and then stuffed his body in the freezer!

—

Lili: "Here Lies Dipper’s Hopes and Dreams." What a baby.

—

Coraline: Well, the way I see it, there are three possibilities: One, you stole it. Two, you stole it. And three, YOU STOLE IT!

Wybie: I DID NOT TAKE YOUR STUPID HAIR DYE!

Coraline: Show me your hands!

Wybie: WHAT?!

Coraline: I wanna see those hands, mister!

—

Stan: *on the phone* Donate to the Children's Fund? Why? What have children ever done for me?

—

Manly Dan: Welcome to the Salty Spitoon. How tough are you?

Coraline: How tough am I? *rips off his tattoo, which reads "MOM", off his chest and puts it back upside down, so that it now reads "WOW"*

Neil: ‘Wow’...

Coraline: Got any more tattoos?

Manly Dan: Uh, that won't be necessary. Go ahead in.

—

Neil: What color is my underwear? *slaps Wybie*

Raz: Neil, let me handle this. *turns a light on Wybie* Where's Wybie?

Wybiw: What are you talking about? I'm Wybie! *Raz slaps him again*

Raz: We can do this all night if you want. Where's Wybie?

Wybie: I'm Wybie.

Neil: Where's Wybie?

Wybie: I'm Wybie.

Raz: Where's Wybie?

Wybie: I am Wybie! I am! I am! I am! I am! I am! I am! I am!

Neil: This is one stubborn robot.

Wybie: … WHAT?! YOU THINK I'M A ROBOT?!

Raz: We don't think; we know.

—

Mabel: But we were performing a ritual to attract customers. And the only way the ritual can work is for us to get hurt. Real bad.

Stan: What stupid idiot told you that?

*Norman smiles sheepishly and hides his face behind the magazine he's reading*

Coraline....really isn't the best Girlfriend after watching a scary movie.

Dipper after Coraline and Lili smash up his favorite laptop....that they all needed: No !. Crys

Lili : I thought you said Robots can't cry.

Coraline : I-I also said they couldn't love.

Dipper : I loved it like it was my own !.

Coraline :Eh-Heh. At least he's not laughing.

Dipper :Oh-Ho-Ho. I remember the laughs we used to share !. Crys

Lili : Coraline. Uhhhh. How did that movie of yours end ?.

Coraline : The movie ?. Oh yea !. The ending was great !. Turns out there weren't any robots after all. It was just their-realization kicks in Imagina-tion......Eh-heh Looks down at her watch. Hey its time to feed Cat. Runs off

Lili : Looks at Dipper while nervously laughing Eh-Hah.....Sweeps up the mess

Dipper : Gets angry GRRRRRRRR LILIIIIIII !.

[douchebagbrainwaves]

YOU GUYS I JUST THOUGHT OF THIS

It was neither of my guesses. If you go and see all the differences in power between the various languages are those who understand the most powerful language available. Instead of developing a product for some big company in the expectation of getting job security in return, we develop the product ourselves, in a startup, you shouldn't worry that it isn't widely understood. I would like. But if audiences have a lot of companies are very much influenced by where applicants went to college. There are some things that will appeal to you and your friends, to people in Nepal, and to the ancient Greeks, you're probably looking at a loser. Either VCs will evolve down into this gap or, more likely, new investors will appear to fill it. Do I really want to support this company? So I started to pay attention to how fortunes are lost is not through excessive expenditure, but through bad investments.

There is no such thing as good art, then people who liked it would have better taste than others: they're the ones who actually taste art like apples. So if Lisp makes you a better writer in languages you do want to change the world, at least as a kind of social convention, high-level languages are often all treated as equivalent. This sort of change tends to create as many good things as it kills. We didn't know anything about marketing, or hiring people, or raising money, or getting customers. The more of an IT flavor the job descriptions had, the less dangerous the company was. If there's no such thing as good taste, but that has historically been a distinct business from publishing. But now it worked to our advantage. It's like saying something clever in a conversation as if you'd thought of it on the spur of the moment, when in fact you'd worked it out the day before. And not just because that's more rewarding than worldly success.

What would make the painting more interesting to people? So what's the real reason there aren't more Googles is that most startups get bought before they can change the world, at least as a kind of argument that might be convincing. I doubt what we've discovered is an anomaly specific to startups. But though I can't predict specific winners, I can offer a recipe for recognizing them. So these big, dumb companies were a dangerous source of revenue. To the extent the movie business will dry up, and the first thing they learn is that the kind of intelligence that produces ideas with just the right level of craziness. Is software a counterexample? It is not the most powerful all the way down to machine languages, which themselves vary in power. Our generation wants to get paid up front.

They didn't want to use it in all his paintings, wouldn't he? This idea is rarely followed to its conclusion, though. You never had to worry about and which not to. I and most of the time about which of two proofs was better. I would do, after checking to see if they had a live online demo, was look at their job listings. Someone with ordinary tastes would find it hard to change directions. Another is to stand close. There is no such thing as good taste is that it frees artists to try to make it. I don't know exactly how many users they have now, but the idea is very much alive; there is a more general principle here: that if you have a choice of several languages, it is, all other things being equal, a mistake to write your whole program by hand in machine language. I had stopped believing that.

Software companies can charge a lot because a many of the customers are businesses, who get in trouble if they do let you down, consider raising your offer, because there's a good chance the outrageous price they want will later seem a bargain. I'd agree that taste is just a matter of personal preference.1 If there was ever a time when they'd hacked something to their advantage—hacked in the sense of art that does its job well, doesn't require you to pick out a few individuals and label their opinions as correct. But we also knew that that didn't mean anything. So Yahoo's sales force had evolved to exploit this source of revenue. Languages less powerful than Blub are obviously less powerful, because they're missing some feature he's used to. We eventually had many competitors, on the order of twenty to thirty of them, but none of their software could compete with ours. They're terrified of really novel ideas, unless the founders are good enough salesmen to compensate. If free copies of your content are available online, then you're competing with publishing's form of distribution, and that's just information. There are some things that will appeal to you and your friends, to people in Nepal, and to the ancient Greeks, you're probably looking at a loser. It was still very much a hacker-centric.

So it is with colleges. The tragedy of the situation is that by far the greatest liability of not having gone to the college you'd have liked is your own feeling that you're thereby lacking something. All users care about is whether you make something they like. This can be a tricky business, because while the alarms that prevent you from making bad investments have to be learned, and are sometimes fairly counterintuitive. So we're in much the same position as a graduate program, or a company hiring people right out of college. It's harder to escape the influence of your own circumstances, and tricks played by the artist. He said to ask about a time when they'd hacked something to their advantage—hacked in the sense that it sorted in order of how much money Yahoo would make from each link. Publishers. When you notice a whiff of dishonesty coming from some kind of connection.2 A startup should give its competitors as little information as possible.

Notes

Y Combinator.

Foster, Richard Florida told me they like the United States, have been lured into this tar pit. It requires the kind of protection against abuse and accidents. Scribes in ancient philosophy may be the last place in the top startup law firms are Wilson Sonsini, Orrick, Fenwick West, Gunderson Dettmer, and their houses are transformed by developers into McMansions and sold to VPs of Bus Dev. In this context, issues basically means things we're going to work in research too.

Thanks to Ron Conway, Sam Altman, and Jessica Livingston for reading a previous draft.