#or the fucking game theory guy talking about how he had fucking anxiety from how bad the backlash was to his undertale theories

[blond3ang3l]

Eren is a geek lover. He absolutely is enamored with you. Watching your lips with every word you spoke. The way you got excited telling him about every single new detail of the things you got interested in. Eren worked hard as a famous rnb singer, long days in the studio trying to perfect his songs. Then having to perform when he literally had the WORST anxiety known to man. It always felt like someone needed him and was on his ass about something.

But he did it all for you. For moment like this were he could come home and listen to you tell him. About the things you’ve watched in your huge list of video essays that you had in a playlist on YouTube. How you lit up telling him different facts from how the dating game killer had a coworker that also happened to be a serial killer and he didn’t know to the conspiracy theory of the 27 club, no matter what you said it always made you so happy and seeing you all giddy and stimming while you talked to him made him so content with his life.

…and his dick very hard

“I know cotards syndrome, Koro, Diogenes, fregoli, hypochondria, pica, capgras, boanthropy, apotenmophilia, kulver bulcy, ekbom, erotomania, Stendhal. Pics is like one of the more well known. You know that show my strange addiction that we watch together? Yeah so like those people who eat the random shit like the lady who ate rocks- omg that reminds me!”

Erens ass was not listening one bit. He was watching you, watching your body. You guys had been apart for a little over a month so could do a very short tour in another country and he was sick as fuck that he couldn’t bring you. Everyone knew it too. His attitude fucking sucked that trip. He was antsy, his anxiety was through the roof, he snapped at everyone, overall he fucking hated it. But now, sitting here with you he finally felt at peace.

You were sitting on his lap, yapping his ear off. His eyes couldn’t help but wander to your legs which lead him to notice you were wearing his boxers. The way your thick thighs filled them out compared to his own, he couldn’t resist grabbing them. Grabbing them led to groping them, which lead to him sneaking his hands under the boxer. This caught you off guard and stopped your sudden rant with a small gasp. He chuckled and slipped two fingers in his mouth covering them in his saliva before slipping them back under the boxers.

“Cmon baby, keeping telling me about the little videos.”

He had to have been joking. No way was he just gonna pretend he wasn’t teasing you. Like his finger wasn’t circling around your aching hole.

“Go on I’m waiting baby. Keeping telling me bout what you learned.”

As much as you wanted to roll your eyes you knew it would get you no where. This wasn’t a new thing, eren was always so needy. It was always worse after a tour. Even if it had only been a relatively short one.

“Okay well like I was saying, erotomania is something that a lot of celebrity stalkers have. Especially kpop ones. It’s when someone genuinely believes they’re in a relationship with a celebrity. Remember that girl that literally would follow you to the airport? That crazy bitch probably had it.”

Eren couldn’t help but bite his lip as he listened to you go on. God you looked so fucking good. Your hair looked so good. He was so glad he got you your own personal stylist so you never had to worry about needing to go to a shop or someone else’s house. You smelled so good too. That vanilla body oil you used was just fucking irresistible. He didn’t know whether he liked that one or the strawberry poundcake one more. Either way it only made him want you more.

He slowly slid a finger inside you, watching your face contort as you tried to keep your composure. A deep chuckle erupted from his throat. He missed seeing your face. Facetime wasn’t enough. Having to sneak off to the bathroom to jerk off to pictures and homemade pornos wasn’t enough for him. He needed to see you. To feel you. He slid his free hand up your shirt, groping your chest as he thrusted finger in out and of you.

“R-ren, fuck. Cmon baby, how am i supposed to talk while you’re doing this.”

Your whines only made eren smile as he thrusted a second finger inside you. He watched you as you threw your head back while crying out. He was enjoying every second of teasing you. You were so impatient and he knew it. That’s why he catered to every need you had. You hated having to wait and tended to be bratty when you did. So he made everything about you. Whatever you wanted you had. But this time he needed to be selfish. He wanted to watch you come undone first. And that’s exactly what we’re doing.

Your tight grip on his shoulders told him everything. Your nails were digging deep into his skin as you pushed back against his fingers. You didn’t want to admit it but you missed Ren so much. Your fingers and toys didn’t compare to what he could do. How he could prolong your orgasm by teasing you. He could feel you leaking all over his thigh, his boxers now all sticky along with his thigh. He slowly slid his fingers out of you causing you whine.

He didn’t feel bad at all. It was about him this time. He gripped your hips dragging you along his thigh, making it even more of a mess. You hid your face out of embarrassment. It was too much at how he could make you a whiny mess. No other man could do this to you but him.

You couldn’t help the small noises that fell past your lips as you grinded against his thigh. Eren shivered feeling your warm breath against the side of his neck. The way you tugged at his hair he knew you were close. He could read your body like a damn book.

“Cmon baby, almost there. Let me see you.”

“F-fuck ren, I cant.”

Eren wasn’t having that at all. You couldn’t what? You were gonna disobey him? No chance in hell. He gripped your jaw forcing you to look at him

“You telling me no baby? I could have sworn I said I wanted to see your face. I’ve been gone for a long time and you think your whining is gonna stop me?”

You loved moment like this when Eren suddenly got serious. He was…well he was very off Standish which came off to mean as others. But he babied you. The moment you told him no thought after he told you to do something? It was like a switch flipped in him. His tight grip on your face was only turning you on more which made you rut against his leg faster.

“You’re gonna be good aren’t you baby? Gonna cum for me like a good little whore?”

You eagerly nodded as you bit your lip. You could only cry out his name as you came all over his thigh, making a mess in his boxers. Eren kept his grip on your face to make sure you maintained eye contact the entire time. A smirk creeping on his face as you came.

“There you go baby, let’s go get you cleaned up..”

———————————————————————

@merakidoll Eren fic just like I promised🫶🏽

———————————————————————

Based of a conversation with my boyfriend where I literally was going on about mental illness during my rant about the many video essays I watch

[sopaprimordialy]

Burps it's me again can you give me some cropsy stuff because I fear he's rarely talked about becaude they didn't do much with his character 🙏🙏

Yeah sure, I got you! 🤓☝🏽

There are a lot of things I like about Cropsy's character and that I find interesting. I'll try to compilate it all in an exceedingly long post, so get cozy buddy! In this essay I'll talk about Cropsy individually and his place in the narrative as well. I can't avoid comparing and contrasting him with Luther in order to do so, but I promise I kept it somewhat Cropsy-centric.

Also I'll be mostly talking about the musical, and when I talk about the movie or the game I'll sinalize it and explain, since I know not a lot of y'all have been crazy enough to check out old shit like that.

1. The Bitch Is Paranoid (He Clearly Has Reasons To, But Still)

First thigs first, let's yap about how this character is introduced.

Both in the musical and the movie, the first scene we get to know Cropsy better is after that mysterious phone call. That sets the mood for how both him and Luther are, how their personalities contrast and crash. Cropsy seems to be deeply worried about what they just did and the strong enemies they made, even if The Riffs don't know it *yet*.

It is not unusual to have this kind of character around the reckless individuals, as they serve to remind the audience of the uneasiness that lies beneath the layer of carelessness demonstrated by the character in focus, and they do so in a comedic and sometimes irritating way. Still, that brings the question: what would be his reasons to trail along with a leader that contradicts his conducts so much?

I have some theories that go all the way from long-term, since childhood friendship to ill contained infatuation, but I think idolatry would fit well enough. He can't help but pointing out his concerns even knowing that they'll go mostly ignored, and even when they are, he still follows Luther. I don't know about you, guys, but I wouldn't subject myself to that unless I was blinded by some sort of emotional dependency, which makes me think that...

Well, there's a lot of unaddressed mental health issues going on there. Specifically about Cropsy, — and this part will get a little personal, but hear me out —, my head canon is that he has OCD. I say that because my father has it too and what Cropsy says and the way he acts kinda reminds me of my dad when I was growing up and he didn't know he had it, didn't treat it at all and would just drive himself INSANE with his own mind.

There are some ~flavors of OCD, as in it can manifest differently depending on the case, but the common denominator (from what I researched and from what my father told me, I'm not a professional) would be excessive, obsessive negative thoughts that lead to compulsions. These are driven by fear, usually fear of harm; things like thinking your own family is trying to poison you, or that some crazy accident/attack will happen if you don't check the locks at least 5 times before going to bed. Some of them are actually based on real reasons to worry, *but not that much*, and some make absolutely no sense outside of "the compulsion's logic" (eg: "If I don't count my steps I'll be fucking killed by an undercover FBI agent")

Explanation given, back to Cropsy.

As I said earlier, he doesn't seem to be capable of not stressing. Since he's Luther's second, it is reasonable for us to assume they've been partners for a long time, thus him knowing it's literally useless to keep hitting the same key like that. He can't avoid it, though, because anxiety is another symptom of OCD :)

In "A Track Fire And A Phone Call", Luther sounds calm at first and we can hear laughter in the background, indicating that the rest of the Rogues are also tranquil and playful, but the little "We set?" Cropsy lets out as soon as Luther puts the phone down is filled with anxiety. He's not buying the general mood of his commemorating friends. When Luther tells him the Riffs are after the Warriors, he's still worried and tries to urge Luther to the fact that letting the Warriors run free for too long is bad business for them.

That's what annoys Luther, showing yet again how their personalities crash.

In the movie this scene is a bit longer (the motherfucker is casually eating some snacks while Cropsy freaks out), and when Cropsy raises his voice ("yeah, right, I'm worried! I just don't want the Riffs down on my ass!" I'm concerned with the fact I memorized that) Luther just kind of nudges him away like a big annoying mosquito, condescendingly tells him that "we can do some looking too, oughta make you feel better" and very unkindly pushes him to the sidewalk (then he terrorizes a poor innocent bystander woman but anyway)

All of the times Luther loses his patience with him are because, in his opinion, he's worrying too much, so I think this trait is worth mentioning.

2. "Yup" ☺☝🏻

In the Finale, some of his most iconic lines include a bunch of yups, and he delivers them in the best way possible: unintentionally interrupting Luther's evil monologue. These are both indicatives of Cropsy's still present anxiety that makes him not able to wait his leader finish talking before nervously agreeing with him AND a foreshadowing to the disorganization of The Rogues during the last fighting scene.

But I want to use this section to talk about Cropsy's supportive and *enabler* behavior.

At first sight, one might think Cropsy's a less worse of a human being because he seems to disagree/not be so into this whole thing Luther's doing, but... is that really so? Hateful people are usually cowards. The only reason racists will casually be saying and doing atrocious thing is precisely because they believe they'll face no retaliation. Sometimes they do that to test weather you're one of them or not: silence is not a negative.

Right after being a little defiant, Cropsy is already singing with Luther. He isn't fully into this stuff, true, but he's clearly what allows it to happen in the first place. I'm ignoring the rest of the crew for a sec here to affirm that because Luther's always doing exactly it to address Cropsy only.

As for a conclusion, there's not much left to say. And that's how I feel about the irl scenarios, too. Like... what is there to say about someone so coward they dont wholeheartedly agree with something fucked up but still silences and allows it? Just stop, Ig. Not that I believe it's that easy to change someone's mind.

3. Whatever The Fuck This Is

I recently made a post about this scene:

And I would like to talk more about :)

So, first of all, toxic relationship much? I think it's time for us to talk about the insanely abusive way Luther treats Cropsy and how he absolutely did NOT deserve to be held like that. Since this is not very clear or present in the musical, for it is a concept album and thus has its genre limitations, I'll be talking about the game.

I watched it all. At first, only the Rogues cutscenes because I'm writing fanfic and needed that, but I ended up watching a full 7 hours long gameplay. All that to say not all of the gang leaders are portrayed as execivelly violent towards his subordinates, that's a Luther thing (well maybe the Destroyers' leader too, but that a whole other story). Having eliminated the possibility of the game/movie trying to "make a point about gangs", I think we can safely say this is just another way of showing how awful Luther is.

If you want me to go into details about the cutscenes I refered to, just lmk, but since it's 3 am and I want to finish this before going to sleep, I'll just say they're various instances of Luther scaring the shit out of Cropsy for fun, pointing a gun to his head, hiting and pushing him around like a punch bag and just generally being a dick.

As I was talking to @almosthonest the other day, I think the fact that Luther does all this shit to Cropsy and Cropsy only has to do with him freaking out about the fact that he actually trusts him and probably even holds more caring and soft feelings towards him, even if they're kept hidden. Homosexualism aside, Cropsy himself is also very troubled, huh?

Does he see so little self-worth that he thinks he has to take it obediently? I mean, he does complain about this stuff sometimes, but he never does as much as fight back or actually calls Luther out. Or, Idk. Quit. I know that would be dangerous as you can't just unsubscribe from a fucking gang, but it's not impossible either. And the fact that he's Luther's second indicates that he never tried (he wouldn't be alive if he did so and failed).

I can see why the other members are still there: they seem to be as reckless and careless as Luther, but Cropsy's not exactly vibing with them, is he?

This fool's in love, in a way or another. That's the explanation for me. There's another recent post of mine in which I'm talking to @desmon1995 and we even go as far as to add the incredible sauce of 💫daddy issues💫 to it (I'll link it when I wake up) (if I remember). (Updates: I did)

Every time I think about how does Luther even have allies, I remember how manipulative people can be and how difficult it is for their victims to get out of it. I'm *not* talking about ideology here because agreeing/being neutral/allowing Cyrus' assassination to happen was totally on Cropsy. He's not a victim in *this* regard. But the abuse? Yes, he is. Buddy's going through the gang equivalent of domestic abuse, and yet he's still holding Luther like something to be protected in the end.

Luther is just kind of (pathetically) clinging to him as the Riffs approach. I wonder if deep down Cropsy's actually relieved that he's no longer being pushed away because Luther's too scared to do so and needs him right there. Shames on them. They're ridiculous.

4. Last and most definitely least...

Cropsy's lactose intolerant. This HC came from this one time I posted about eating chocolate to get rid of my cramps, but actually making it worse as my incompetent body doesn't know how to deal with lactose, and someone (whom I shall remember when I wake up) said it "might be Cropsy".

I don't know about being dumb and forgetting something so crucial abt himself like that, guys, but I'm totally adopting the lactose intolerant part. And yes I chose to conclude this post with that, from all things. I don't know if I have more to say. I just like this a lot. Good night 👍🏼

[arokel]

WIP WHATEVER

i forgot to do a wip thing yesterday but i wanna see what y'all are working on, so here's just a general "show off some of your wips" tag(ish) game! if you see this in the fandom tag or because you follow me, consider yourself tagged <3

anyway here are things i'm primarily focusing on right now despite The Sleepy

I've Heard About People Like Me (TBITB)

The rumors begin almost immediately. Joe, with his customary anxiety, wonders aloud if he's ill. Johnny thinks injury is more likely.

"Family emergency, maybe? His folks live in town; he could be with them," Bobby says, muffled as he pulls his undershirt over his head. He emerges ruffled and frowning, rotating his shoulders with a wince.

Shorty carefully looks away from the flex of tendons in Bobby's slim neck. He doesn't believe any of these proposed theories - to him, they all sound like something Ulbrickson would have addressed immediately. Whatever's going on, it's worse than the average personal tragedy: it's the kind of tragedy you don't talk about.

Love You Like That (TBITB)

He barely thinks anymore about how unconventional it is to have Bobby sprawled next to him on the bed as he reads portions of the letter aloud, offering helpful and acerbic commentary in turn. But of course they’re on the bed - in was a special occasion that Bobby has never indicated a desire to repeat. Don would if he did, no questions asked.

Unconventional or not, Bobby is adorable like this, kicking his feet in the air and letter held at arms' length above his head. It's a distance from which Don certainly couldn't make out words, but Bobby has always had sharp eyes. Don only hopes they're too focused on the letter to notice how often Don has to tear his own gaze away to focus on his updated draft.

He's so consumed with not looking too obviously and making Bobby uncomfortable that he doesn't realize Bobby has reached the end of the letter - and, more importantly, that Bobby has stopped talking.

Then, after several minutes of silence, Bobby says, hesitant and hushed, "I'm your best friend?"

Tell Me (ATPM)

“It wouldn’t kill you to stare a little less,” Carl murmurs, as Sy Hersh slips into the men’s locker room and out of sight, white tennis shorts stretching across heavy thighs for just a moment before they’re gone.

“What?” Bob says, distracted.

Carl rolls his eyes, once, before looking Bob up and down illustratively and not a little lecherously. “He’s not the kind of guy to keep quiet if you hit on him too obviously. You’re lucky I didn’t rat you out.”

“Because you’re so free of sin,” Bob scoffs, to cover the discomfort of having been caught looking. He and Carl are by no means exclusive - far from it; privately Bob thinks the only reason they’re fucking each other at all is that neither of them have time to meet anyone else. But he still feels guilty.

Carl cocks his arm as if he’s about to throw his fluffy white towel in Bob’s face, only to change course and playfully scrub it over Bob’s sweaty hair, succeeding only in disordering it even further. “He who speaks first is a witness,” he says philosophically, echoing Rosenfeld’s wry mantra ever since John Dean scooped Magruder in the race to join the Watergate prosecution.

“He who speaks second is a defendant,” Bob agrees.

What Extraordinary Vehicles (ATPM)

“Why me? Why not Anderson, or Sheehan, or - hell, everyone knows you're leaking to TIME. You've clearly got a direct line to Sandy Smith. So why me?”

Bernstein's eyes are squinted, his voice sharp and uncompromising. He's suspicious - both in this moment and, Bob suspects, by nature. Good. Bob made the right choice after all.

He shrugs. “You’re putting in the work.”

“Yeah, I am," Bernstein says matter-of-factly. Some of that suspicion melts away, to be replaced with a reluctant smile. "Glad someone around here appreciates me.”

Damn it. Yes, Bob made the right choice. He can work with Bernstein. But he can't let himself grow to like him.

“Make something out of what I give you, and we’ll see if that’s deserved," he says. He doesn't watch Bernstein's smile fade.

[residentdormouse]

Tackling Those Tenacious ‘T’ Words 

Trudging through tombs of text, torn on what tapestry of terms to tack together, I try to trust that the tremendous task we have taken on will traipse along without turning tedious. The turnout of “T” themes throughout my tales tested the theory that this trip could be terribly treacherous for maintaining any type of tranquility. Treason. Trauma. Torment. Torture. But thankfully, tears only tempted to tumble when testing out the ‘tire’s, and that's only from thinking of the turbulent trail this will soon travel down for them.    

(One section makes me cry, what of it 😂. I didn't end up picking that one though, cause you know, River Song.)

My Words: Track, Throw, Tight, Tough, Tire

Your Words: Unknown, Unusual, Unique, Umbrella, Under

As always, Open Tag, jump in if you want to join!

Track

“So this,” she pointed between the two of them, “meant nothing to you?”

Panic took over immediately. Shit! Take it back. “No, that’s not what I meant.”

“We’re not a thing?”

In his current state, Lloyd was in no place to gauge the sincerity of her pout. “I never said—”

“Don’t you love me?”

“Hey. Woah…”

Hands flew up in defense, but the cheeky smile bursting from her face, her eyebrows raising and falling in a playful challenge; it caused him to stop in his tracks. “Just fucking with you, sweetheart. Like I’d be involved with a guy who seriously uses the phrase ‘sweet buns’…”

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

Throw

Once she was finished, Glen sat there, puzzling the matter for a bit. His sigh was very similar to when they pieced together their shared dreams. It was a lot. Too much. The longer the silence lasted, the more her anxiety grew, and she felt just as crazy as when she first met him. Was she just imagining all this? Was it all in her mind?

Hoping for the best, she decided to cap the explanation. "I wish I had better answers."

Focused on different points on the floor, his eyes darted about, but he was far from admiring the hideous carpet. New information was processing, connections being made, theories developing. The process would be enjoyable if circumstances were different.

"There's obviously more going on here than any of us really thought possible." He stood as he spoke, and grabbed some of the long since cooled tea from earlier. "Maybe I got a glimpse into your dreams somehow, and maybe… maybe it was your doing. I don't know how this works. None of us do. But if we're throwing crazy things up for discussion, I paint the future. We're all having dreams of some woman out in Colorado, and we share a boogeyman in our nightmares..."

Hayden sat down on the far edge of the bed next to Kojak. Happily receiving absentminded head scratches, his tail thudded against the mattress. Glen continued on once she was settled.

"What I'm getting at is, who's to say what can and can't be done at this point. This isn't exactly the world we knew anymore, and there's no unringing that bell."

Tight

To say Nick was appealing was an understatement.

Ever since their first night here, her eyes had been drawn to him. Tall, dark, mysterious. But mysterious led to intimidating, and her comfort zone with small talk and introductions was little to none. Mostly none. So watching from afar, making amusing assumptions based on no facts at all, that's what she had.

'I bet he's the type of guy to walk in the rain instead of running.'

From there, she just started making a game of what random thoughts she could come up with about him. 'I bet he houses food like there's no tomorrow.' 'He's probably a light sleeper.' 'He seems like a spicy food type.' 'You know, he probably stretches like a cat when he wakes up.'

Then there was the one assumption to change everything.

'I bet he's the type to rest his chin on the top of your head while he's holding you tight in a hug.'

There was nothing overly special with the assumption itself. It would be logical with their heights, and didn't have anything inherently sexual in the thought, but after that, her brain held him in a different light. Her cheeks would flush as she thought of him further. Internal thoughts that only she could hear began to babble and trip over themselves in her head.

Tough

(Surprisingly only two instances of this, and you already caught the other one with river.)

Even with the makeshift bandage, blood still trickled down from the wound on her arm, and more contusions were forming at an alarming rate. While he couldn’t see the wound itself, the mats in her hair indicated a substantial wound was hidden under there as well. Worry was hard to hide at this point.

"So what is this?"

An inclination towards the gash on her arm was made, and she responded with a sigh.

"A four." He went to inspect it further, but she pulled her arm away with a hiss in pain. "Okay, a five."

There was no question to him that Max was tough. Since he had known her, she had done some of the most risky things he had ever witnessed. Running about burning buildings, taking on multitudes of those unknown creatures. Now fighting outnumbered battles with her own. A five to her was probably a nine to anybody else. Good luck trying to get her to admit that though.

Even still, he raised an eyebrow to question the assessment. Her reply came back firm.

"A five."

Tire

(No instances of ‘tire’, and most of the ‘tired’s are spoiler heavy or already used. I guess this will suffice.)

“So did you all have a plan for this?”

Without surprise, Harold was the first to jump in, but Quinn only offered up a brief glance to him before going back to his packing. “Honestly?”

At this point, she couldn’t tell if her agitation was all still bubbling internal, or if it was now visible to those around her. With frustration built up ready to burst, Max was sure it was the latter. And if it wasn’t, it soon would be.

“No, Quinn, we want your happy horseshit. Of course, honestly!”

The short outburst let out a small amount of her agitation, but it was immediately replaced with regret. Quinn clicked the final latch on his bag with a soft sigh and looked up at her, tired features clearly worn down beyond anything she had seen on him before.

“We never really had a solid plan. Truthfully, we were just hoping to do as much as we could until we inevitably got pinned. If leaving subtly on our own was no longer a viable option, and it came down to the wire, which apparently it has, we figured we’d just run the same route as we sent everybody else. Seems that may very well be the case now.”

The information tore at her; this was it from the brains of their group. One locked in a cube, if not worse, and one with no plan whatsoever. No backup at all. Flying by the seat of their pants.

[grumpycakes]

because I’m fascinated by things that break down shows and movies in sassy ass ways and get magnetically pulled like a moth to a flame to dumbass drama shit about youtubers I know even a miniscule amount about, I’ve been getting a LOT of fucking SOMEONE TALKS ABOUT THIS PROBLEMATIC PERSON!!! Or a vocalist breaks down this one youtuber who made a song, a lawyer breaks down a movie with law shit in it, a hairdresser reacts to someone dying their own hair, (along with less “reasoned” things altogether like just randos who have a vendetta against certain shitty ppl) and while some are nice and more educational, and some are very interesting I’m really really tired of the anxiety they spike. LIke I have to sit here and go, oh no is this person gonna turn out to be shitty that I liked. Am I gonna have to feel some sorta way about something and stop watching them.

It’s hard enough that with something going on with me right now I can’t watch Gamegrumps and the other gamers that used to make me happy. It’s hard enough that some content just feels empty and I gotta find the next thing.

Do we really have to have the only popular content right now be THE THING IS TERRIBLE AND I’LL TELL YOU WHY. It’s fun when it’s obvious train wrecks that you don’t have to feel bad about, but it’s distressing when it’s things you thought were decent to good.

and honestly exhausting. I didn’t ask for your opinion shitty older dude online. I didn’t ask you to break down this fucking music vocal coach music student. I DIDN’T ASK YOU TO COME IN HERE AND TEAR DOWN THE BLANKET FORT I’D MADE AND SHOVE ME BACK INTO SHITTY REALISM.

So I’m stuck with the old things that made me happy feeling hollow and pointless and the new content making me sick with anxiety cause I’m so crippled by outrage fatigue.

and besides that it only ramps up the purity culture. If you’re gonna sing you better be the best singer there ever was cause HOW DARE YOU NOT KNOW HOW TO SING WHEN STARTING OUT A CAREER WHY DOES EVERYONE THINK THEY’RE GOOD THEY’RE SHIT VOCALISTS!!!!! WOW HOW DARE THIS SHOW NOT GET LEGALESE RIGHT WHAT IS THIS, JUST FOR ENTERTAINMENT??!?!?! HOW DARE YOU BE THE SLIGHTEST BIT HYPOCRITICAL AS IF HUMANS BY NATURE AND VALUE OF CHANGING WONT BE THIS WAY

I’m tired of feeling like everything I like is a problem. I’m tired of feeling the urge to have to defend what I like. I’M TIRED OF SEEING CREATORS I ENJOY HAVING TO MAKE VIDEOS ADDRESSING EVERYONE’S SHITTY OPINIONS THEY’VE DECIDED TO GRACE OUR SCREENS WITH.

it’s like that dumbass Easy A teacher’s quote “I don’t know what your generation’s fascination is with documenting your every thought, but not all of them are diamonds”

it’s exhausting, i’m tired of it, and I want youtube to STOP RECOMMENDING ME THIS SHIT

I LIKE FUCKING XYZ YOUTUBER, HOW BOUT YOU DON’T SUGGEST A CALLOUT VID ABOUT THEM THE NEXT DAY HUH?!?!?! DOES THAT??!?!?! SOUND GOOD?!?!?!?!

sorry, just done with this bullshit after the second video tonight and third vid today where a youtuber I follow is spending like a literal 5 minutes defending they’re fucking lives/choices that AREN’T HURTING ANYONE

SCREAMS

[theringers]

friends with benefits - charles leclerc

summary: type A planner best friend lives with no thoughts head empty best friend and they decide to start sleeping together

request: 37 , 70, 78 w charles😃

prompts: 37) “Please? I'll be good, I promise!" 70) “we’re just…friends.” “friends don’t do this type of shit!” 78) “Not to make things weird, but I thought about you when I came last night.”

a/n: charles, head empty no thoughts just his hot roommate and his inability to keep things to himself

warnings: nsfw, 18+, angst kinda, friends to fuck buddies, oral sex

“Could you uhhhhh do me a favor?” You asked Charles. The fuzzy blanket was draped over both of you and he was about to press play on the movie.

His eyes rolled. “What do you need, my love?” He asked in a sarcastic tone.

“Can you maybe make some popcorn?” You tried to slow your words down a bit, for some reason thinking he would be more inclined to say yes if you asked like that.

He exhaled loudly. “Fine.” He tossed the blanket over to you so he could get up off the couch. “But only because now you’ve got that thought in my mind and I want it.”

“If doing things for yourself instead of me makes you feel better, that’s okay with me.” You smiled. This was a typical weeknight for the two of you.

You were a self proclaimed movie critic. Charles just got stuck with a self proclaimed movie critic as a roommate, but it made for some entertaining nights.

The two of you met in high school and immediately formed a bond. Everything between you two was easygoing and laid back, which he loved. He was never a huge people person or party type and neither were you.

You found peace in each other’s silent company and eventually realized you had more in common than you first thought. That following summer, you did practically everything together. Charles had a couple girlfriends here and there and you had a couple boyfriends as well, but it didn’t really matter. Nothing ever stuck.

College rolled around and you weren’t sure what to do. You wanted to stay in Monaco close to your family, but you just couldn’t live at home anymore. Lucky for you, Charles offered to let you move into his spare bedroom until you could make a decision. It had been years and you were still in that spare bedroom. The thought of moving out and doing something different hadn’t crossed your mind since the day you moved in.

“Do you want butter or no butter?” He asked from the kitchen, hands full of popcorn bags.

“Come on is that even a question?”

“Right. Butter. Lots of it.” He threw the bag into the microwave and it started to pop.

He came back with a bowl full of steaming popcorn and handed it to you.

“Be careful it’s,” he looked at you to see your mouth wide open and steam coming out, “hot.”

“Almost hotter than you,” you said once you caught your breath.

He rolled his eyes and fake laughed. “Hilarious, y/n.”

“I’m being serious.”

“C’mon, we’ve talked about this.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that I think you’re hot,” you said. Every time this was brought up, he got so flustered. Which was why you continued to joke around with him and flirt with him. He would never act on it.

“Y/n…. I’m gonna go to bed if you keep this up.” He was annoyed.

“I’m sorry. Please stay? I’ll be good, I promise.” You batted your eyelashes at him.

“Fine, but you gotta stop,” he said, pulling your legs onto his lap so you could lounge more comfortably.

A rom-com was playing on the TV and the sound of munching on popcorn was filling the room.

A long distance relationship played out on the screen. Lots of phone calls, lots of phone sex, lots of jerking off to each other’s photos. You shifted in your seat, trying to seem casual and not uncomfortable.

“Not to make things weird, but I thought about you when I came last night.” You stopped shifting and looked at Charles.

“So much for ‘we’ve talked about this’.” You held up air quotes. “Care to elaborate?” He was known for saying out of pocket things. Sometimes you weren’t sure if he fully thought things through before he said them.

“I mean, not really. The movie just reminded me of it.”

You couldn’t think of a response quick enough so he continued to talk. “You always say whatever’s on your mind so I thought I might try it out.”

“You don’t do that enough already?”

“I’m trying to be more honest.”

You laughed and rolled your eyes at him. “I applaud you for that. But you can’t just leave me hanging like this.”

“Don’t hate me, that’s all I’m going to say.” His hand rubbed up and down your shins that were resting on his lap.

“I could never hate you, Charles.”

“Last night when you took a shower, you left the bathroom door wide open. I was just walking back to my room from the kitchen, I didn’t mean to-”

You laughed and interrupted him. “Charles, it’s okay. That’s my fault.”

“I just glanced, I promise. But I couldn’t get the thought out of my mind. And my cock was still really hard after a while.”

“You knew I was awake, you should have come to my room,” you said. It sounded good in theory but if you were being honest with yourself, you wouldn’t know what to do if he showed up at your bedroom door with a boner.

“We’re just friends though. Friends don’t do that type of shit.” He took a deep breath and looked off in the distance. Anything to avoid eye contact.

“Says who?” He looked at you and tilted his head in confusion. “A lot of friends do that type of shit. There’s even a word for it.”

“Have you thought about this before?”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t… Charles, we’re two young twenty somethings that live together. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about what it would be like if we were sleeping together.”

“I don’t mean this in a bad way but I honestly didn’t think about it until I saw you.”

“Maybe it’s just the hopeless romantic in me.” You had thought about what a perfect storyline it would make for you two to sleep together but never the reality of actually getting into bed with him. Now that made you nervous.

“More like the horny romantic”

“Very funny…” You tossed a piece of popcorn at him and he swatted it away.

“So, are we doing this thing?” He turned his attention from the TV to you.

“Tell me you didn’t just actually ask me that question.” He was blunt and never beat around the bush.

“I did, and I would like an answer, please.” You wanted to smack that stupid smile off of his face for how he was making you feel.

“What’s this thing?” He needed to spell it out.

“Are you,” he pointed to you, “going to let me,” his finger moved to himself, “inside of you?”

You burst out laughing. “It’s a good thing you’re pretty. We need to set some ground rules for this.”

“Rules?” He didn’t look like he was a fan of rules. And as his roommate, you knew he wasn’t a fan of them. Just ask the groceries you’ve gone shopping for two months in a row.

“Our friendship, our cohabitation, you know. I’m not just going to let you go willy nilly on me without making sure you aren’t going to leave me friendless or homeless after.” Nothing could be done with you unless it was carefully planned. All possible outcomes had to be thought through.

“I would never leave you friendless or homeless.”

“Even if I was the worst person at sex, in the world, ever?”

“I highly doubt you’re the worst, but even if you were.”

“You’d still fuck me, even if everyone in the entire world was better than me. Damn I’m lucky.”

“Here’s a rule for you. You need to tell me how it feels. I’ll fuck you however you want to be fucked so you better tell me when something feels good.” Charles said.

“I can do that. If you like something I do, tell me. If you don’t, tell me.” You talked a big game but telling Charles how he made you feel sexually made your spine tingle, and you weren’t sure if it was anxiety or desire.

“I doubt there’s anything you can do to my body that I won’t like.” he said, wiggling his eyebrows. He was a guy after all.

“You wanna bet?” You asked, lunging at him jokingly.

“Sure, I’d like to see you try.”

“I guess I will, then.” You just needed time to plan it first.

He stood up and held out his hand for you to take. “Now that we’ve talked about it, I can’t get it off my mind.”

“You want to do this, right now?” Panic set in. This was too sudden.

“Right now,” he said, confidently. “If, that’s what you want, of course.”

“Okay.” You followed him into the hallway, bypassing your bedroom and ending up in his.

You took a few shy steps around, like you’d never been in there before. “Do you want to get on top or do you want me to?”

“Y/n…” He needed you to just relax and let go.

“Right, right, let’s just do it.” You took a step forward and he grabbed your face in his hands. Your lips moved with his, feeling soft and warm. There was only so much in your life you could plan. This was never part of it.

He slowly guided you to his bed and gently pushed you backwards. His shirt slid over his head and you admired his body, looking at him in a different light. He never took his shirt off around you with sexual intentions but this was new. And fun.

You smiled at him, both of you acknowledging what you were about to do. It made you explode inside thinking about how much you were enjoying this, letting someone else take control and letting go. You shouldn’t be enjoying this, you thought. Snap out of it.

“Before we start, is there anything you really don’t like?” He asked, reaching for the button of your denim shorts. You nodded side to side, giving him permission to pull the shorts down your legs.

He immediately pulled your thong aside and slipped a finger between your folds. He smiled feeling the wetness. “Thinking about us fucking is turning you on, isn’t it?”

“Don’t embarrass me,” you shot him a look and he understood.

“I’m not embarrassing you. It’s sexy.” He kneeled between your legs on the floor.

“Well, keep it to yourself,” you said.

“Why would I keep it to myself when I have physical proof that thinking about us is turning you on?” One of his fingers easily slid inside of you and your hips shifted as you rolled your eyes at him. “Is this okay?” He asked, concerned by your movements.

“Yes,” you said, unsure of what else to say. You didn’t want to give him any more ammo to make fun of you. You told each other everything but this was one side of you he never saw, and you didn’t think he ever would. Vulnerability at its finest, but you agreed to this.

His finger moved in and out of you and the sounds of your wet pussy made you want to cover your face and hide. He added a second and slowly curled his fingers up to hit your g-spot. A soft moan escaped your lips despite the fact that you were trying hard to keep them to yourself.

“Tell me how it feels.” He said.

“It feels,” you took a moment to breathe in, “so good.” He used his other hand to play with your clit, causing you more pleasure. You were looking at the ceiling, finding it hard to acknowledge that Charles was the one making you feel like this. If you squeezed your eyes shut hard enough, maybe this wouldn’t be something you needed to worry about.

A euphoric feeling began to build in your stomach, your legs slowly going numb in the best way possible. You continued to try and hold in your moans but when you hit your climax, everything was uncontrollable. Your body jerked and moans fell as you rode out your high.

You opened your eyes to see Charles pulling his fingers out and smiling. He made you feel that way and while you lay half naked on his bed post-orgasm, it was starting to feel okay. How much more vulnerable could you get with him than this?

He stood up and pulled his sweatpants off, his hard cock springing out of his cotton boxers. Your jaw dropped and you couldn’t help but stare as he stroked himself, preparing for you. He noticed, but ignored it, granting your request of not embarrassing you. The look he shot you was enough to know that he was aware of your stares.

“I’m only gonna say it one more time,” he said, leaning on top of you with his hands on either side of your head. “You need to tell me how it feels, or I’m going to start talking really dirty with you.”

You laughed, feeling more relaxed than before. “I almost want to keep quiet on purpose just to see that.”

He dipped his head in disappointment. “Not funny.”

“I think I’m pretty funny.”

“You are, but I want to make you feel good. I’d rather know then instead of you telling me I sucked after.”

“Okay, okay,” you obliged. He nodded and positioned himself at your entrance, slowly pushing himself inside of you.

You had to adjust to his size - his dick was nothing like his fingers. He didn’t give you much time before he started moving and you didn’t even care. He felt so good inside of you and seeing his body on top of you was putting you at ease rather than stressing you out, like you had expected it to.

His head rested in the crook of your neck, giving you perfect access to his ear. Almost like he did it on purpose, to make you more comfortable. You didn’t have to look at him in the eyes and admit how good he was making you feel. “Your dick feels so good,” you whispered in his ear and he grunted in response.

“You’re so tight, fuck,” he said into your ear, slightly nibbling on the lobe.

His hips moved rhythmically while you lifted your feet onto his back to change the angle. You couldn’t help but let more moans slip out at the feeling. “I think I’m gonna cum,” you said, quietly.

“Let go,” he said followed by a few expletives. His pelvis ground into you, creating a sensation on your clit you’ve never experienced.

You felt your second orgasm of the night build up as he continued to fuck you, keeping the same pace. You held your hands on his back and let moans fall to his ear making sure he knew how good you felt.

He pulled out of you and your body felt like deadweight. You were glued to the bed and couldn’t find the energy to get up. “How was that?” He asked. Of course he couldn’t give you a second to recover before opening his mouth.

“Great,” you smiled, propping yourself up on your elbows. “Did you finish?” You sure hadn’t felt him cum inside of you and you don’t think he wore a condominium either.

“No, but I just wanted to make sure you felt good.” He picked his sweatpants up off the floor and went to put his boxers back on before you stopped him.

“Unacceptable. I’m not going to let you jerk off thinking about me two nights in a row. Especially not after I was just naked in your bed.” Your post-orgasm confidence was showing when you dropped to your knees in front of him and took his still hard cock in your hand.

Slick juices still covered it, making it easier for you once you took him in your mouth. He was bigger than you expected, so you started swirling your tongue around the tip while your hand worked at the rest of him. “Shit,” you could hear him say.

You slowly took more of him, hollowing out your cheeks in response to his moans. His hand found the back of your head but rested there, not wanting to pressure you for more but he couldn’t resist once you fit almost all of him in your mouth.

The sounds he made caused butterflies in your stomach knowing that you were the sole reason for those sounds. His grip got tighter on you and he started to thrust into you when you felt a warm liquid shoot down your throat.

His eyes rolled to the back of his head and he grunted while you took every last drop. You stood up and took a step back, swiping your finger over your bottom lip.

He looked at you with the same eyes you looked at him after he finished fucking you. “So, uh,” he said. “Where do we go from here?”

You nervously looked around the room. “Should we finish the movie?”

“Great idea.”

You both put your clothes back on and sat back on the couch. “Let’s talk about that.” He never knew when to shut up, but sometimes it was for the better.

“What about it?”

“Did you like it? Should we do it again? Do you want to move out?” You laughed at his last question.

“It was really good,” you said, your thoughts wandering to just a few moments ago. You wouldn’t mind having him on top of you again. “We might as well.”

“Just one more thing,” he said. “Don’t fall in love with me.” He smiled and let out a giggle. You weren’t sure if he was being serious or not, but you laughed along too.

[sanjoongie]

Late Night Rendezvous

ღPairing: Hongjoong x Me, I (1st POV)

ღGenre: non-idol au, friends with benefits au

ღWord Count: 1,658

ღWarnings: dirty talk as foreplay, exhibitionism, fat cock Hongjoong agenda, degradation kink (calls me slut), breast play, pull out game cuz it’s hot (not safe though, do not recommend), f&m orgasm

ღRated: 18+ mdni, smut with no plot 

ღSummary: Hongjoong always calls when the sun is down and the moon is up and I can’t say no to him. this is what happens when you put two Scorpios together

ღDedication: @mejuii @downtoamagicalland my brain would be a useless heap without you guys. thank you always for beta-ing and entertaining my ideas

Part Two ↭ Nightclub Affair

I avoided stepping into a puddle on the asphalt as I walked through the parking lot of the convenience store. My eyes scanned the cars until I settled on a run-down, 90’s two-door Coupe. I pulled my phone out of my hoodie pocket and texted Hongjoong that I was here. Last time I had scared him knocking on the window. 

I opened the passenger’s side door and slipped into the car. His hair had been bright red since the beginning of the summer and I was slowly getting used to it. Our eyes met and we both exchanged an excited grin. “Hey,” Hongjoong greeted me.

“Don’t you hey me,” I pretended to frown. “I was in the middle of streaming the Avenger’s with Yunho and San. Do you know what kind of lies I had to pull to get out of that?”

Hongjoong rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry, would you rather do that than do me?”

I huffed at him, “Jealous much?”

Hongjoong narrowed his eyes down at me. “Do you want to cum tonight?” 

I looked at him with disbelief, “Do you want me to leave right now?”

Hongjoong sighed, “No.”

I sighed after him, “It’s fine. Yunho and San just think I went on an emergency trip to the convenience store, so we gotta be quick.”

Hongjoong stuck out his tongue cheekily, “I can do quick.”

I pffted at him. “As if. You’re too much of a sadist to do quick.”

Hongjoong scrambled to get into the backseat of his two-door, lying down and motioning for me to follow. “Come on then. Let’s test your theory out.”

I managed to squeeze myself through the two front seats and straddle Hongjoong. My paranoid self looked around but we were in the darkened part of the parking lot, no one could see us. 

“Hey,” Hongjoong smoothed his hands up my thighs until he reached the hem of my thread-bare shorts, “No one will catch us. It’ll be fine.”

My anxiety made me word-vomit. “I swear to God, if anyone does, it’s going to be like Wooyoung and he’ll never be able to keep his mouth shut and then--”

“Pretty Baby.” Hongjoong dug his fingers into my ass harshly, drawing me back to reality. “Why are you thinking about anything else other than me fucking you right now?”

I laughed nervously. “How right you are.”

I bent down, tucking my hair behind my ears and kissed him. It was just supposed to be a starter kiss but Hongjoong apparently had other ideas. His tongue licked my bottom lip and I let him in. Our tongues played lazily against each other. When we separated, there was saliva all over both our mouths. "Quickly!" I whined.

"Gotta get you wet first," Hongjoong shook his head. One of his hands abandoned my ass and his thumb pressed against my clit through my shorts. 

I moaned loudly and grinded myself down on this digit. "More. Talk to me, Hongjoong."

He turned it on like a light bulb, I swear, if there is any pro to fucking Hongjoong, it's that he can wax poetic like a freak. "Gonna fuck you good with my fat dick, huh? Must be pretty damn good if you're coming here every time I text you, regardless of how scared you are that we'll get caught. Or is that a part of the fun, huh, Pretty Baby? You wanna see the look on their faces when they find out I'm fucking you so damn good that you'd risk it all? Dick that good that you'd let me fuck you around the corner from you place. Dick that good that you come multiple times around it. Dick that good that you could come undone and I haven't even put it in you yet."

"Fucking Jesus, Hongjoong." I grabbed his head with both hands and started to desperately make out with him. 

He chuckled into my mouth. "That easy to get you going?"

"That easy?" I squealed in disbelief, "Do you even hear yourself?" The smile that split his face told me that I had fed Hongjoong’s ego. "Besides, you know how much I'm slut for you, Joong." 

This time it was Hongjoong’s turn to groan. "Fuck, get your shorts off, I need to be inside of you right now."

I wiggled out of them so quickly while Hongjoong shoved his jeans down to his thighs. He fisted himself, eyes hot on me. "Come on. Come sink down on this fat cock, slut."

I whined and pushed my panties aside in impatience. I lined his cock up to my dripping hole and attempted to sink downwards. But that thick cock is something else and I had a hard time. Hongjoong began to run his mouth again, he couldn't help himself.

"Awe, is my cock too fat for your cunt, slut? What's wrong?” His words were abrasive but his thumbs rubbed my hip, encouraging me along. “Pretty baby struggling with what I’ve given her?”

“I can do it, just give me some time,” I insisted. I was slowly but surely sinking down on him. The feeling of him filling me up balanced out the stretch he was pushing my pussy to do. 

“You’re so fucking good to me,” Hongjoong gasped as my ass met his thighs, finally bottoming out. “You take me so well and you let me fuck you whenever I want.” My core started to throb some more as Hongjoong started to sound a bit desperate himself. “Bounce on me, I know you can do it.”

I did so experimentally and we both groaned at the friction. Hongjoong leaned up to bury his head in between my breasts, one hand reaching around to undo my bra. 

“It’s gotta be quick, there’s no time!” I slapped at his hands and he pouted for a moment. Then he simply shrugged and started mouthing the mound of my breasts, avoiding my nipple in retaliation.

For a while, all that could be heard in the car was some lewd wet noises and the slap of skin against skin. Hongjoong was going to leave a love bite on my boob but that was nothing I couldn't hide easily. My thighs were burning and I was getting impatient with my release. I threaded my hands through his red hair and tugged slightly to get his attention. “Harder, Joong, I gotta go!”

“Goddamn Avengers,” Hongjoong cursed but did what I asked. He flexed his pelvic muscles so that I could bounce more efficiently on him and it felt amazing. Both of his hands went to my hips to pull me harder down on his cock. Within a few minutes he was angling himself to hit me exactly where I needed and I could feel my climax coming.

“Gonna cum, gonna cum, yes Hongjoong yes, just like that, fuck, feels so good, feels so good inside of me, your fat--” The rest of my praise was cut off as I gasped and my climax ripped through me. I whined as Hongjoong continued to drag his cock inside of me until he pulled out and we both watched as he fisted himself until he came on his stomach. He let out a long moan, head tipped back and back arched as he reached his own pleasurable release. 

“Fuck,” I swore again. I felt lazy and did not want to walk the one and a half blocks it would take me to get back to my apartment. 

“I’ll drive you,” Hongjoong offered, still panting from the sex.

“No, you can’t, someone is going to see,” I declined immediately even though I knew he was just trying to help.

Hongjoong’s eyebrows creased in worry. “Let me buy your snacks then. You can crunch in San and Yunho’s ears.” Petty much, Hongjoong?

Then my phone started to vibrate in my back pocket. When I pulled it out, it showed that San wanted to Facetime. “Shit, shit, shit!”

“Don’t answer,” Hongjoong dismissed my two best friends.

“I can’t!” I whined, “They’ll think that’s more sus than not.”

I fixed my hair as best I could and then accepted, still straddling a half naked Hongjoong with his dick still out. “What?” I demanded irritably.

San pouted, “Get me something too!”

I rolled my eyes, “Why would I do that, San? You’re at your place, not mine.”

I could see Yunho in the background getting his shoes on and got sick to my stomach. “We’re coming to you. We got tired of waiting. We’re gonna pick up some pizza, what do you want?”

“Uh, pepperoni, duh, that’s my favorite, you know that!” I replied.

Yunho stole the phone from San, so that San could slip his shoes on too. “I don’t know what I want for snacks, can you turn the camera… where are you right now? Why is it so dark and you look sweaty?”

“Um, I’m outside, and it’s dark. Look, I was already halfway home, I’ll just share what I bought, okay?” Fuck, I was bad at lying.

San took his phone back, looking like he wasn’t believing me. “You never share your snacks, seriously, what’s going on? Did someone kidnap you? Blink twice for yes.”

Hongjoong bucked his hips upwards and I had to bite down on my lip. That bitch was half hard again at the chance that we were actually going to get caught this time, nudging my swollen outer lips. “I’m hanging up now. See you in a few.”

“Hey…” Hongjoong hadn't even cleaned up the cum on his stomach but he was leaning upwards to tug my shirt up so that he could put a nipple in his mouth. 

My lower half was heating up again. “Joong, no! The one time was risky enough!”

He smirked, nuzzling his nose against my chest, “Your pussy says otherwise.”

I groaned in frustration. I had to learn to say no to the men in my life.

Part Two ↭ Nightclub Affair

[lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks]

what happened the first time Wes tried to crack open the Danny is Phantom conspiracy did he like, confront Danny first or was it all behind his back like, maybe hoping ground zero would be lost among the gossip and that Danny wouldn't find out who spilled the beans once everyone knew

I mean it obviously wouldn't work because nobody believed him and the gossip didn't take off very far beyond a few people talking about Wes being kinda weird

I should absolutely write a fic about this.

I am absolutely going to write a fic about this.

I AM RIGHT NOW GOING TO WRITE A FIC ABOUT THIS.

----

"Hey Fenton! Fenton!!" Dash came bounding over and threw a meaty arm around his shoulder.

"Jesus Dash! What?!" Danny buckled under the weight (pretended to anyway) as Dash gave him a surprisingly lighthearted punch on the arm.

"You haven't heard?! Wes has this total batshit insane theory, it's hilarious!"

Dash was in a genuine giggle-fit, Danny didn't think he'd ever seen him this merry, he was also starting to suspect he was going to leave this conversation being the butt of the joke somehow. Wait-

"Wes? Who the heck is Wes?" Danny asked, it wasn't like he knew everyone in school, like Dash seemed to.

"He's on the basketball team, you know, tall guy, red hair, threw a sick move at least month's game! You know, WES!"

"I didn't watch that game."

"Oh," said Dash, flatly, "Oh yeah, almost forgot you're a total nerd. Anyway, like I was saying!"

Dash grabbed Danny by the shoulders and nearly lifted him off the floor.

"Wes thinks," he could barely speak through his giggling, he even snorted a few times, "Wes thinks your secretly PHANTOM."

Dash dropped Danny back down as he doubled over laughing.

"Could you imagine?! You! You're not even DEAD!" Dash honest to god slapped his knee in mirth.

Danny went through an incredibly swift array of emotions in the span of about five seconds.

The first was fear, clear and bracing, then came confusion, how did he know? Had he seen something? Then there was hope, Dash didn't believe it, and if DASH didn't believe it, maybe nobody else believed it either. Then relief, he could roll with this, he could TOTALLY roll with this! Dash was right! It was absurd, it was ridiculous, it was hilarious, him being Phantom? What utter nonsense!

Sam and Tucker had been standing by his side at a Dash-safe distance, looking absolutely horrified. Sam looked ready to jump in and lay down a swift defence, but Danny gave a quick little low wave for her to stand down. He got this.

"Oh my god SERIOUSLY?" Danny busted out a slightly hysterical laugh, okay so he wasn't completely over the initial terrified anxiety.

"How could I- I mean what- WHY does he think I'M Phantom?! I mean how does that even work I don't-"

Dash clapped him on the shoulder, this was probably the most contact he'd ever had with him without being physically assaulted.

"I know right?! Like apparently he thinks you look alike? And he's all like 'But I've seen his eyes glow green' and 'they're never in the same roo-hoo-hoom." Dash wheezed and started hacking and coughing.

Danny carefully constructed a look of offence.

"Hey I mean, it's not THAT funny. Why couldn't I be Phantom! I know how to use a Fenton Thermos! Look I even HAVE one right-" he torn open his backpack and pulled one out, making sure to fumble it in a terrific display of fuck-uppery and drop it noisily on the cafeteria floor, he dropped to his knees trying to grab it but knocked it under a table.

A few girls standing nearby who'd been listening in started tittering, one of the guys sitting at the table snorted milk through his nose and Dash was just about on the floor in hysterics.

Even Sam and Tucker covered their mouths in an attempt to look like they were holding in laughter. Tucker muttered to Sam, just loud enough for people around to hear.

"I mean, he's our friend and we love him, but god that was painful to watch. He knows he's terrible at ghost hunting! He's got like, nothing but thumbs."

Danny climbed under the table, grabbed at the thermos and lifted it up as he crawled back out.

"See! See! I have a thermos! I could TOTALLY be Phantom!"

Sam walked over and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "It's okay bud, I think you'd be a great Phantom." her voice was thick with her usual sarcasm, soaked in pity though it were.

Danny's ears burned in embarrassment, he might have been humiliating himself on purpose, but it was still humiliating, watching everyone laugh at him for being so weak and incompetent. He was grateful to his friends for pushing through their discomfort and keeping up the act, it was still painful, but it came with a wash of pure unadulterated relief.

Nobody believed this Wes guy, nobody thought it could be even remotely possible. People would talk about it for a little while, have a laugh, maybe there would be a few memes and in-jokes, but eventually it would drop off. People would forget all about it and it would be just another notch on the gossip mill belt.

Even if someone DID believe it, they could never admit it for fear of vicious ridicule, for once in his life peer pressure was his friend.

And then Wes walked in.

Once Danny saw him he realised that he did recognise Wes, he'd seen him hanging around Kwan a few times, and chatting with Star, he was also in Danny's english class. That was about as familiar as he got with the guy, they'd never spoken a word to each other.

Wes had a terrifying expression of seething fury ripping across his face. He was glaring at Dash.

"It's NOT. FUNNY."

Dash was completely unable to stand, it was honestly overkill, Danny almost thought he was hamming it up on purpose, but maybe not, his face was turning an alarming shade of red after all.

"Wes don-" Dash gasped. "Don't do this to me man, I can't brea-" Dash was gasping for air, trying desperately to hold down the giggles.

Danny could almost see steam rising as Wes seethed. Then suddenly that furious stare was shooting daggers straight at him. Danny shrank into himself, looking as small and helpless as he possibly could.

"Uh hey Wes, um, I've heard the news." he joked tacking on a nervous laugh for emphasis. "Uh, soooo," he tossed the thermos from hand to hand, nearly dropping it again. "Is this like, just a joke or do you really-?"

Dash continued to wheeze, Kwan was holding him up by the arm, muttering about getting some water to cool off.

Wes strode over until he and Danny were face to face, he was taller by a good couple inches, even more so with Danny making a conscious effort to appear small.

Wes jabbed a sharp finger into his collarbone.

"Don't think I'm fooled by this pathetic act you've got going on, I am ONTO you, Phantom." he spat.

Danny glanced sidelong at the table beside him, silently begging for assistance, they only watched in silence, strained faces trying not to laugh. A glance the other way to his friends, they simply shrugged.

"Um, okaaay," Danny started backing away slowly. "Uh look Wes I am honestly really flattered but, do we really look that alike?" Danny ran a hand through his hair and then pointed up at Wes. "I mean we BOTH kinda have Phantom's haircut."

Sam deadpanned from the sidelines, "Maybe they're BOTH Phantom."

"We should start marketing that haircut." Tucker muttered to himself, tapping something on his tablet. "We could make a fortune, are you any good at hairdressing?"

Sam shot him a look of disgust and did not dignify the question with a response.

"Don't play dumb you two," said Wes, flipping his focus, "You're definitely in on this!"

The entire cafeteria was awash with giggles by this point. Just about everyone had heard about Wes' theory, but were mostly convinced it was some kinda joke. Now? Now they knew Wes was straight up fucking delusional.

He glanced around as people laughed, at him. At HIM.

"It's not funny!" he yelled over the crowed, the tittering increased in volume. Someone across the room yelled-

"Hey if I get the haircut, can I be Phantom too?"

One of the goths stood up on her seat.

"I've GOT the haircut! Mom says it's MY TURN to be the Phantom!"

There was a fresh round of mirthful laughter, some kids wheezing as hard as Dash had been. Another few kids piped up above the cacophony, throwing jokes of their own.

"I've got a soup thermos so I'm Phantom now, sorry sweaty I don't make the rules."

"If I wear a Phantom shirt does that make me Phantom ALL the time or am I only Phantom when I'm wearing it?"

"I have an ass, Phantom has an ass. Conclusion: I am Phantom's ass."

"Tag yourself I'm the thermos."

"DO THE BUTTS MATCH?"

Wes had been trying to scream over the din, infuriated, desperate to find SOMEONE who would listen.

Danny gave him a pat on the back.

"Hey, if it makes you feel any better, The Guys in White once hunted some guy down because he had white hair, if a government agency can fuck that up then-"

Wes slugged him.

It wasn't a particularly solid punch like Dash's hits, it was quick and precise, Was wasn't a brawny guy, but he was lean and fast and had good aim.

Danny whuffed out a heavy breath as Wes' fist collided with his sternum and he collapsed to the floor.

Everyone in the cafeteria lost their shit, a few people screamed and one table of football jocks all stood up chanting, "FIGHT. FIGHT. FIGHT. FIGHT."

Tucker ran over to him as Sam stepped up and without hesitation slammed a fist straight into Wes' nose.

The footballers lost their minds, one of the goths stood up on their table screaming "REPRESEEENT!!"

Wes backed up immediately, crying out from the sharp pain blossoming across his face, he'd never been hit before and couldn't pull his thoughts together quick enough to throw a punch back at her, so he was taken by surprise once again as Sam placed a solid roundhouse kick to his stomach.

He had certainly not been expecting that kind of brute strength from her, she had incapacitated him swiftly and effectively, barely having broken a sweat.

One of his teammates hollered over the crowd and came barrelling down on the goth, she dodged without batting an eye and darted nimbly out of the way, giving the guy a quick kick in the pants to throw him off balance as she rocketed for the cafeteria door.

As Wes took a deep breath through his mouth, his nose dripping blood, he realised that Danny and Tucker were gone. The fight had lasted only seconds but Sam had run distraction well enough for the boys to take off without anyone noticing, a glance around showed Tucker supporting Danny about to exit through the cafeteria doors.

The doors opened to an out of breath Mr Lancer on the other side.

"'The Light Fantastic!' WHAT is going on here?!"

Oh they were all so fucked.

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 16: Tulips

With the possible exception of all of the eighth years getting along and actually becoming friends, regardless of their former rivalries, the first half of Draco's eighth year at Hogwarts was remarkably ordinary. Funny how it took a war to see that they were all just children and all being used as pawns in a bigger game.

There was also, for Draco, the realization that he had a bit of a crush on Potter. He found that he actually really enjoyed the other boy's company; he enjoyed his snarkiness and the way that Draco could see mischief in his eyes. He liked the way Potter listened, liked the way he always seemed to want to casually touch other people. He liked him, plain and simple.

But other than the unlikely truces turned friendships (and in the case of Potter, turned crush) nothing weird happened, no one tried to kill him (or other students), no prophecies were unveiled, there were no dementors, no psychopath teachers, nothing. It was almost enough to make Draco bored.

Almost.

There was nothing strange until one unassuming morning in March, when they were all sitting in the great Hall, eating breakfast, and quizzing each other for the upcoming test in Transfiguration.

Potter interrupted the heated debate that Draco was having with Granger with a blurted, "What the fuck?"

Everyone looked over at him, including Hermione and Draco, to see what had happened.

"There's a tulip in my coffee cup!" the other boy said.

"So there is," Draco replied in amusement.

Everyone chuckled and Potter tried to figure out who had put the bright yellow tulip there but Draco really didn't have time to think about that because he and Hermione were back to arguing about Transfiguration theory.

He probably wouldn't have thought about it again but that evening as they got ready for bed, Draco felt a strange twinge in his magical core, like you got when you were preparing to cast a strong spell.

Before he could really dig into what had happened, Potter's bed curtains flew open, "Alright, you lot," he said, a laugh ruining the stern look he was attempting. "Who put this here?" he asked, holding out a red tulip that he'd apparently found on his pillow.

(Read more below the cut)

Each of them denied having any knowledge of how the tulip could have found its way into Potter's bed, but a bit of unease settled in Draco's stomach. Potter put the second tulip in with the first in the vase on the windowsill and laughed it off.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, there was a story he'd been told as a child. A story that he couldn't quite grasp but filled him with a bit of apprehension none the less.

Still, this was nothing like the sort of anxiety that Draco had been accustomed to forcing himself to sleep through for the past few years, so he put it from his mind and went to sleep.

And again, he might have been able to forget about it, if it weren't for the fact that the next morning he felt a tug at his magical core and then a few minutes later, Potter appeared with another tulip. White this time and he'd found it in the pocket of his robes. "Seriously, what the hell you guys?" he laughed.

Everyone else laughed too, but Draco frowned, the memory of the story niggling at the back of his mind once more, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

He continued to try to remember throughout the rest of the week and Potter continued to get tulips. They showed up in his book bag, the showed up in place of his quills, they showed up on his plate at meals, they showed up everywhere and anywhere. One even replaced his loofa in the shower.

By the end of the week, Potter was getting a bit irritated and he'd had to enlarge the vase multiple times to fit all of the tulips. Draco wasn't sure why Potter hadn't just thrown them out, but it wasn't his place to say anything, certainly.

On Saturday, when everyone had gone off to Hogsmeade for the morning, Draco fire called his mother.

"Draco, darling," she said, smiling at him, "I'm so pleased to hear from you. How are you?"

He endured the predictable pleasantries before he said, "Listen, mother, the reason I called," he paused there because this was all a bit ridiculous. "Well, it sounds silly really, but there was a story you told me when I was little," he said. "Something about a wizard who had flowers appear out of nowhere? I can't remember it."

"Why?" she asked, her face serious. "Draco, why are you asking me about that story?"

"No reason," he said quickly. "It's just something that came into my head," he lied.

"Who's receiving tulips, Draco?"

"It's nothing!" he repeated. "And I never said there were any tulips."

"If I tell you the story, will you tell me the truth?"

Draco sighed but nodded.

"The story," she began, "was about your great, great, great uncle Silas. Silas was a difficult man, everyone always said so. He was haughty and rude; he was quite clever but not terribly gracious about it."

"Mother," he interrupted, his knees were growing cold and sore from kneeling on the common room floor, "could we just skip to the meat of the story."

"Yes, alright," she sighed. "Long story short, Silas fell in love with a muggleborn. His family obviously refused to let him get married, assuming that the love would fade eventually. There was an arranged marriage in there as well, but that's not really important. What is important, is that the person he fell in love with began to find tulips everywhere. Every time she went to pick up something, it turned into a tulip; at her home, her work, everywhere she went, tulips."

Draco felt something in the pit of his stomach drop. This couldn't be happening.

"He was pining for her, heartbroken that he couldn't be with her," she said. "Now, magic can't create something from nothing, so in each of the tulips was a little bit of Silas' magic."

"Like a horocrux?" he asked in horror.

"No, darling, nothing so sinister as that. But the flowers were slowly draining his magical core and he was growing steadily weaker." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, "So, as the story goes, when he was so weak he could barely summon the strength to stand, he went to her to confess his love. What did it matter if he was going to die? When he told her of his love, she kissed him and his magic was restored. The family was convinced that it was true love and that the love that bound the two of them together was obviously stronger magic than that of blood status."

Draco rubbed a hand over his face, "So, this was a true story?"

"Yes, it's all rather well documented as it would have to be in the case of something like this." She gave him her most commanding look, "Now, I've held up my end of the bargain, so it's your turn. Tell me who's receiving tulips, Draco."

"Harry Potter," he whispered.

Her eyebrows rose, "You have to tell him, Draco."

"I can't!" he said, shaking his head, "You know I can't. He couldn't possibly feel the same way, he couldn't possibly love me, too-"

Something shattered behind him and he yanked his head back to see the boy in question standing there, bouquet of tulips in his hands. The vase had dropped and been smashed, water was soaking into Potter's socks but he didn't seem to notice.

Draco promptly ended the fire call with his mother and wondered if it would be possible to transfer to Beauxbatons to complete the year. It was either that or he should just go off to die.

"How much of that did you hear?" he asked, his voice a hoarse whisper.

"Most of it," Potter confessed with a little wince. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop but then I heard her talking about how everything in that girl's life became tulips and I knew you were talking about me. I didn't realize how the story would end," he hastened to add. "I just thought that she might know something about a curse or spell that had been cast on me."

Draco rubbed his forehead, "Look, could you just forget about the whole thing?"

"Forget about it?" Potter asked, sounding a little hysterical at this point. "Draco, it turned six quills into tulips in the past three days. Six!" he shook his head. "No, I can't forget about it and I certainly can't let you die."

Draco stood up and balled his hands into fists, "Always ready to play the hero aren't you?"

"What?" the other boy asked, obviously taken aback.

"Ready to play the martyr," he sneered. "Well I won't have it. I won't have you tying yourself to me just because you're afraid that I'll die if you don't return the sentiment."

"But I already do return the sentiment," Harry said, sounding bewildered. "Sorry, maybe I should have said so, but I thought that was obvious from the story."

"What?"

"Well, your mum said that it was true love's kiss that restored his magic, true love that made it possible for the flowers to appear in the first place. I just assumed it was obvious that I was in love with you, too."

"You are?" he whispered, hardly daring to believe that this was possible.

"Yeah," Harry replied with a little shrug. "I mean, I thought maybe it would have been good to start with a date or something," he said, scratching the back of his neck. "It's why I'm still here, I wanted to invite you to go to Hogsmeade with me."

"You did?"

Harry nodded again. "But I'm glad to kiss you, for the unselfish reason that it will restore your magic," he said, glancing down at the flowers in his hands before looking back up, "And for the selfish reason that I would really just like to kiss you."

"You would?" he asked.

Harry huffed at him, "Are you going to stop sounding like you doubt every word out of my mouth?"

"Sorry, it's just-" Draco started but then Potter was across the room, dropping the tulips as he cupped Draco's face in his hands and leaned in until they were a mere inch apart.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked softly, his eyes flickering between Draco's.

"Yes," Draco breathed.

Harry gave him a little grin and leaned in to kiss him, his soft, full lips, gently caressing Draco's, and Draco felt like his heart stopped beating for a moment before a surge of magic, and joy, and love came rushing in and filled him to bursting.

He wrapped his arms around Harry's waist and pulled him in closer and Harry hummed, molding his lips to Draco's for a moment before pulling back and resting their foreheads together.

"That was-" Draco started.

"Fantastic," Harry agreed. "Do you feel better? Not going to die on me or anything?"

Draco laughed and pinched his side, "I think we were a long way off from that."

"I don't know," Harry replied, tilting his head to press a kiss to the tip of Draco's nose. "There were an awful lot of tulips."

"Yes," Draco replied, pulling back to look at the tulips strewn about the floor, "And you've dropped them all on the ground. That's quite rude, you know."

Harry huffed at him, "Prat," he said fondly before drawing away to swish his wand and collect all of the tulips and put them back into the repaired vase. "So," Harry said, "I think tulips may be my new favorite flower."

"Mine, too," Draco replied with a smile.

And when they got married, two years later, there were tulips everywhere.

Day 15: Wings | Day 17: Salt

[blond3ang3l]

🌷♡₊˚geek lover! eren🦢・₊✧

———————————————————————

This is a remake of the already geek lover eren, but specifically a sfw version but I actually really love this story

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Eren is a geek lover. He absolutely is enamored with you. Watching your lips with every word you spoke. The way you got excited telling him about every single new detail of the things you got interested in. Eren worked hard as a famous rnb singer, long days in the studio trying to perfect his songs. Then having to perform when he literally had the WORST anxiety known to man. It always felt like someone needed him and was on his ass about something.

But he did it all for you. So you can have everything your heart desired. He left nothing behind when it came to you. You wanted to see a new sci fi movie? He already bought out the theater. There’s a new podcast you like? He’s downloaded all the episodes for you on both yours and his phone. Don’t even get started on books. On your first date you mentioned you like to read and study psychology in your free time. Once you moved in he had your very own book room built for you. Carefully picking out each book for you on his own. Your own desk and room for you todo your writings in. He even surprised you with a laptop and camera so you can start your own podcast! He just wanted to show you how much he loved and supported you.

For moment like this were he could come home and listen to you tell him. About the things you've watched in your huge list of video essays that you had in a playlist on YouTube. How you lit up telling him different facts from how the dating game killer had a coworker that also happened to be a serial killer and he didn't know to the conspiracy theory of the 27 club, no matter what you said it always made you so happy and seeing you all giddy and stimming while you talked to him made him so content with his life.

"I know cotards syndrome, Koro, Diogenes, fregoli, hypochondria, pica, capgras, boanthropy, apotenmophilia, kulver bulcy, ekbom, erotomania, Stendhal. Pics is like one of the more well known. You know that show my strange addiction that we watch together? Yeah so like those people who eat the random shit like the lady who ate rocks- omg that reminds me!"

You were sitting on his lap, yapping his ear off.His eyes couldn't help but wander to your legs which lead him to notice you were wearing his boxers. Your hands thick thighs were filling them out so well. His hands moved to grip them as he watched you talk. You’d kill him later for not listening but he just felt so much dread when he was away from you that he couldn’t help but just stare at you forever.

Erens ass was not listening one bit. He was watching you, watching your body. You guys had been apart for a little over a month so could do a very short tour in another country and he was sick as fuck that he couldn't bring you.Everyone knew it too. His attitude fucking sucked that trip. He was antsy, his anxiety was through the roof, he snapped at everyone, overall he fucking hated it. But now, sitting here with you he finally felt at peace.

“Rennie, papa are you okay? You’re getting all red. Are you feeling sick baby?”

You were worried, he had a bad history of getting sick easily. With him coming back from another country he could have likely caught something. It would hurt your heart to know he wasn’t feeling well.

“I’m fine baby. Keep going. I wanna hear you talk.”

“Are you sure baby? We can go lay down if you’d like.”

It warmed his heart how much you cared for him. You made him the man he was. He used to be so closed off to anyone that wasn’t your friends mikasa and armin. You taught him how to deal with the grief of life and got him therapy to get through the rough days of his depression. He just loved you so much and truly couldn’t imagine being anywhere without you.

“I’m fine baby, just missed you so much..”

For my girlie @merakidoll

[lucy90712]

Dream- face reveal

wc- 1971 

Warnings: use of dreams real name

~ I have been friends with this guy on the internet Dream for about 5 years now, we talk all the time but we have never met in person and I have never seen his face. He doesn't show his face on the internet and I've never asked so it just never happened, he knows what I look like all too well because I like sending him stupid selfies and we FaceTime in the middle of the night all the time.

We have been trying to meet in person for years but things keep getting in the way and changing our plans first family issues, then a hurricane and then a whole pandemic. Despite all of this we have finally set a date to meet which is not going to change not for anything or anyone. It's going to be a big day or should I say month, as insane as it sounds I'm going to move in with Dream and Sapnap one of our other friends for a little while to really make this trip worth it even if it only lasts that long.

The process has been difficult because for me to get to Florida I need to get a plane which requires me to get tested before I fly and for my own piece of mind I have been strictly quarantining for the past two weeks but its finally here. I fly out tomorrow morning. I went and got tested yesterday and got my negative result today which I need to get on the plane.

I've been packing all day today because to be there for a month I need a bunch of my set up and cameras so that my content doesn't just stop but then I also need clothes and I can't seem to get both things to fit quite right.

At one point my phone started ringing but there was a mountain of stuff everywhere so I had to dig around to find it and when I did I saw that it was a FaceTime call from Dream, I picked up and immediately put my phone down to get on with my 5th attempt at packing.

"Yo hows it going?" Dream asked

"I'd say pretty average right now I'm super excited for tomorrow but my bag is giving me a hell of a fight" I replied

"Prop your phone up and I'll try and help" he said

I did as I was told and got my small tripod to rest my phone in where you could see what I was looking at. Honestly it was a mess and I was kind of embarrassed but Dream didn't need to know that and besides my face wasn't in frame so he couldn't see how embarrassed I was. I attempted putting everything in a slightly different way to last time which seemed to work until it came to fitting in my tripod and my wash bag of which there was no room for.

"Fuck sake I thought I had it then" I raged slightly

"Ok take out the webcam and forget about the tripod because I have ones that you can use and then try because I think that should give you enough room" he said

"Hell yeah thanks dream" I said after zipping up the suitcase

I flopped back on the floor tired from the minimal amounts of effort I had put in today which just shows how incredibly unfit I am. I recovered before getting up and moving my phone to my desk where I sat to talk to Dream.

We talked for a while until Sapnap came in and I talked to him for a little while, he's been living with Dream for a few months so he warned me about a few things like you don't wake Dream up which I took note of and he told me that Dream will just come and sit in your stream. Eventually they had to leave so I was left on my own to just kind of chill until it was an acceptable time to go to sleep.

Skip to the morning

I woke up at 5am when my alarm went off, I have a love hate relationship with my alarm because I only ever use it when I have something going on which is exciting but the sound makes me want to throw my phone out the window. Despite my annoyance I got up and went straight to the bathroom to shower and get dressed, I thought about wearing something nice but then I realised I had a 5 hour flight and I couldn't bare the thought of being sat down for that long not in comfy clothes. My comfy outfit consisted of leggings and one of my ex boyfriends hoodies because I never gave it back and I'm over it enough to just wear the hoodie whenever I want.

At just before 6 I got in my Uber to head to the airport seeing as my flight was at around 8 it would be wise to get there early. I wasn't sure how busy the airport would be seeing as you aren't meant to travel but I don't think I've ever seen an airport that wasn't busy.

I made it to the airport and as I assumed it wasn't heaving but there was still a fair amount of people around. I made my way through the crowds and checked in for my flight before heading through security and then making it to the main part of the airport. That part was less busy as there is more space for people to spread out into which made me much less anxious about people being too close. I had a little while to wait for my flight so I went and got some food because I haven't eaten today, and I don't want to end up with a headache.

When it was time for my flight to board I went to the gate and got straight into my seat watching as more people boarded but not as many as I expected, it was clear that all of the people on the flight had a good reason to be going to Florida and not just going on holiday and no one was sat together so all rules were being adhered to.

My flight landed 5 hours later and everyone filed off the plane going there own way leaving me kind of lost in a place that I wasn't used to and with the anxiety of going to meet Dream for the first time. I had a bit longer to wait because I had to get an Uber to the house even though dream offered to come and pick me up I told him not to because the less people at the airport the better and just incase people recognised me I didn't want him to accidentally face reveal.

I collected my suitcase and went straight out to the car park to get in my uber who was waiting just outside the doors in the designated area for taxis. As soon as I got in the car I text Dream letting him know I was on my way and sharing my location just in case things went south.

My uber stopped outside this one house and I got out walking up the drive taking in the house number to make sure I was at the right place which I was. Thats when the nerves really kicked in, I was about to meet one of my best friends in person for the first time. This is so insane to think that after all there years we get to do all the stupid things friends do.

I got to the door and rang the doorbell waiting the few excruciating seconds before I heard movement behind it indicating that there was someone there. It opened slowly and the first person I saw was sapnap who of course I was excited to see but we have talked properly on FaceTime before so I already know what he looks like.

Next another person popped up behind pushing sapnap out the way and giving me a hug straight away I knew it had to be dream but he ran over so quick that I didn't get to take in anything other than the fact he was hugging me. He pulled away and I got to look at his face, he looked pretty much exactly how I thought he would from the descriptions I have heard. As much as wavy length doesn't sound like a thing it somehow fit his hair and his eyes were also super green, he was definitely taller than I expected though this man towered over me like it was nothing and could definitely push me to the ground in a second but he looked kind just how you want a friend to be.

After a few minutes of freaking out that this was actually happening they let me inside and gave me a tour of the house showing me my room and the set up they had put together for me with a webcam and tripod just like dream said. They finished off the tour before I was made to sit and play whatever game they wanted with them.

We played an assortment of games for hours on end before we ordered food for dinner which we ate all chilling on the sofa. I almost forgot that my followers didn't know I was here but when I remembered I stole patches from dream and got him to take a picture of me with her to post on twitter and Instagram because people would get it without me having to explain. Not much of a grand reveal considering Sapnap did the same when he got here but I didn't really have any other ideas I mean its not like I can just do dream's face reveal for him with a picture on my twitter can I. The response to my tweet was insane within minutes people had got it trending and they were freaking out with all sorts of theories of if I'd officially moved in or if I was just visiting although both were kind of right.

Having spent a few hours here now I feel very at home they boys are really welcoming making sure I'm all good and not too tired after my flight which of course I am but sleep is for the weak so I'll wait. I have been told to call the two of them by their real names unless its on stream which feels kind of odd because I'm use to calling them what their know by despite knowing their real names the whole time. They have given me a nickname which I now go by to make it fair.

It was sad when the day came to an end when we all decided it was best to get some sleep even though I think their going to stay up and they said it for my own sake because I've been yawning non stop for the past 2 hours but either way I'm going to go to sleep and this day (one of the best days of my life) will become that of a memory.

Although I don't think this day could have gone any better its consisted of everything I've ever wanted to have in a friend but none of my friends back home if you can call them friends are into the same things as me so it never works out. Now I have two friends who share the same interests and have the same god awful sleep schedule so we can stay up messing around together if we want to which is what life as a 20 year old should be like. Fun.

[beelsnack]

Henlo!!! Just wanted to request MC getting surprised by the demon bros in the human realm! The bros miss MC a lot so they just surprise them and hang out for a bit :) it can be HCs! Thank you and I love ya work ❤️

Henlo!! Get ready for some fluff, my dudes.

I don’t know why, but this seemed better as short little headcanons as opposed to my usual scenarios.

-----

Lucifer

- He had expressly forbade any of his brothers from going up to the human world, because “they needed time to readjust.”

- But apparently Pridey McPrideface is exempt from his own rules.

- He does his research. If the human still lives with their parents or has roommates, he picks a night when they are home alone.This night is reserved for the two of them, and he will eviscerate anyone who gets in the way.

- Honestly, he wants to do some sort of grand entrance, but in the end, he simply knocks on the door.

- “Hello, my dear,” he takes their hand and kisses their knuckles. “I’ve missed you.”

- “Lucifer!” they tackle him with a hug strong enough to knock over a lesser demon. In his peripheral, Lucifer sees a neighbor stick their head out of the door and look around with a confused look.

- “You have nosy neighbors, I see.”

“Well, I mean, I did just scream ‘Lucifer...’”

“Perhaps we should go inside before someone calls a priest?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time.”

- The two of them spend the night in their living room, just talking. They ask if he wants to go out somewhere, but he declines.

“This is the most relaxed I’ve been in centuries. I’m perfectly satisfied with staying in with you.”

- He hadn’t intended to stay the night, but it was near impossible to resist the offer. And that would end up being his downfall.

- He had forgotten about that stupid game that his brothers and the human liked to play, where they got pictures of each other sleeping. And, just as he couldn’t resist the temptation to spend the night with them, they couldn’t resist the temptation to steal a picture while he slept.

- When he arrived back at the House of Lamentation, all six of his brothers were waiting for him in the entrance hall.

- “So, where ya been, Luci?” Mammon sneered. “Ya couldn’t have possibly snuck off to visit the human after makin’ damn sure you told us not to do that, now could ya?”

“It’s not like our dear eldest brother to do something so hypocritical.” Satan said coolly, regarding Lucifer with a raised eyebrow.

“...I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.” Lucifer huffed.

“’Hey guys! How many points is a sleeping Lucifer worth?’” Levi turned his phone around to show Lucifer a picture of his own sleeping face, with the human’s laughing eyes just poking out from the bottom corner.

“...Oh.”

He wasn’t living this one down for a while.

Mammon

- This sneaky little bastard straight up just climbs into their room in the middle of the night.

- You know, like he DIDN’T live in a completely different realm.

- The human damn near punches him in the face when he wakes them up.

- “Mammon, what the actual fuck are you doing?”

“Visiting, what’s it look like?”

“To my neighbors, probably breaking and entering.”

- They should kick him out, all they have to do is issue a pact command. But Mammon looks at them with his sad blue eyes and they just can’t bring themself to do it.

- “I got so used to ya...y’know...sleeping next to me.” he shuffled around like a kid waiting to get scolded. “It’s hard to fall asleep when ya ain’t there.”

“Shut up and cuddle with me, you big baby.”

- They stay up stupidly late watching vine compilations and talking until they straight up just pass out against each other. They stay like that for the rest of the night.

- And by rest of the night I mean until freaking noon the next day. And the only reason they wake up then is because Lucifer is blowing up Mammon’s phone.

- “Mammon, where are you?”

“If you’re out clubbing, be back at a reasonable hour. If you’re out scheming, don’t come back until you have something to show for it.”

“You better not have passed out in a gutter somewhere. We have a reputation to uphold, you know.”

“Mammon, please tell me you didn’t directly disobey an order and go visit the Human Realm.”

Four unread voicemails.

“Welp, you’re fucked.”

“Thanks, human, love you too.”

Leviathan:

- Social anxiety is a bitch and a half, so he just asks if he can come visit.

-Deadass just portals into their living room like “’Sup, I brought games, go get some snacks and get prepared to get rekt.”

- That’s it, that’s the visit.

- They decide to do multiplayer vs some other humans and they wipe the floor with them.

- “Eat it, normies, I’M the one playing with a hot person! Have fun in your moms’ basements!”

“Pot meet kettle, Levi.”

“I don’t live in a basement, though!”

“Fair point. Boom, headshot!”

- Levi manages to sleep over without repercussions solely because nobody is surprised if he doesn’t show up somewhere.

Satan

- Makes direct eye contact with Lucifer as he leaves the House of Lamentation and goes “Don’t wait up.”

-Times his surprise visit so he’s made himself comfortable with a book and a cup of coffee when they get home.

- They brought a friend over to study or whatever. The human sees him in the middle of the living room and just screeches “Satan, what the fuck?”

-The friend is like “Aight imma head out.” And like goes into witness protection.

- Satan comes bearing gifts of the newest installments of Devildom book series’ and a recording of the episodes of the crime dramas that they need to catch up on.

- They pause between each episode to talk theories even though Satan already knows what happens. Both of them feel proud of the human when they figure it out.

- Mammon texts Satan in the middle of the night in absolute terror.

Mammon: Satan you get your ass back to the Devildom right now!

Satan: Why?

Mammon: Because Lucifer is about to rip a hole through the dimensions to drag you back here!

Satan: That sounds like a Lucifer problem.

Mammon: It’s about to be a Three Realms problem!

- Read 2:09 AM

Asmodeus

- He just tells Lucifer he’s going to visit Solomon.

- And makes sure to tell him that if Lucifer decides to interrupt him, he will gladly let him listen to all of the naughty things they’re going to be doing.

- And Lucifer just straight up doesn’t want to deal with his shit so he lets it go.

- The human comes home to see Asmo stretched out on their bed scrolling through Devilgram.

- “Ugh, finally! You took forever!”

“Asmo? What are you doing here?”

“Well, I was planning on seducing you, but I absolutely refuse to have sex on a bed that moans louder than I do.”

- They go on a cute little cafe date and Asmo insists on going to all of the high-end fashion stores.

- “Devildom fashion trends always seem a few decades behind the human world. Honestly, it wasn’t until about five years ago that I could find a skirt above my knees! You would think a Realm full of sin and vice would be a little more up-to-date with provocative attire.”

- FASHION. SHOW.

-They spend an absurd amount of time trying on tacky jewelry and roasting it via Snapchat. Like, the employee showed up on Asmo’s story as they were kicking them out.

- They buy a bottle of liquor on their way back to the human’s place, get absolutely smashed and, depending on your preference, either have the giggliest sex ever or watch stupid beauty hack videos. Maybe both. Actually, definitely both.

- The next morning, Asmo does an Inter-dimensional Walk of Shame and no one is surprised.

Beelzebub

- Was going to lie about where he was going but felt guilty about it.

- So he just didn’t tell anyone.

-Knocks on the human’s door and immediately gives them the biggest bear hug.

- “I missed you, so I came to visit. That’s okay, right?”

- Beel wants to go out to eat, but the human flat out says no because they can’t afford to wine and dine the Avatar of Gluttony.

- They compromise by buying a crapton of snacks at the grocery store.

- Cashier: Must be a big party you’re having.

Human, grabbing a family size bag of chips out of Beel’s hand without even turning to look at him: Yup.

- They make themselves a blanket fort in their living room, watching movies and eating way too many snacks. Beel asks them questions about their family and their life up there. If the human has photos, he wants to see all of them.

-The human falls asleep mid-movie, slumping against his shoulder. Beel picks them up and tucks them into bed, planning on leaving to let them rest before they sleepily ask him to spend the night.

Belphegor

- Convinces Mammon to cover for him.

- Does this by going “Please, Big Brother?” and Mammon caves almost immediately.

- Pops into the human’s bedroom in the early hours of the morning and wiggles into bed with them.

- “Why am I not surprised?”

“Missed you too.”

- Human just accepts the snuggles and goes back to sleep. Belphie makes sure they have good dreams.

- If they have work or school, Belphie convinces them to call in sick and spend the day with him.

- Lots of naps and sleepy kisses. The chillest day ever.

- The human feels so relaxed that they almost convince Belphie to stay another night, and Belphie almost agrees.

- But Mammon’s ability to bullshit will only last so long, and Belphie knows he needs to go back before someone notices that his “afternoon nap” was going on 14 hours.

- “Come see me in my dreams, okay?”

[softtransbf]

Mister Nice Guy, part 2

part one

Summary: Shit hits the fan, and the rest of the BAU is done with it.

Word Count: 3523

Reader: he/him trans man, no physical description

Warnings: case involving targeting gay people, brief mention of a child abduction case, coming out/anxiety of experiencing transphobia (no actual transphobia though), alcohol, swearing

@aleccolocco (sorry it took so long to finish lol)

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

"No, that doesn't make any sense at all, doctor!" you spat his title. "He's not jealous of these couples, killing what he can't have, or a homophobe, punishing gay people for being happy. He's putting an end to their unhappy relationships. He sees it as mercy." Over the months, your cold war with Reid turned into outright conflict, and tonight, alone in the police station in Oregon, was no exception. Hotchner had tasked the two of you with presenting the preliminary profile the next morning, and it was going as well as conversations ever went.

"We have no evidence that he knows they're unhappy, though. All of his victims are clearly happy in their relationships," Reid challenged.

You rolled your eyes and scoffed. "Please. One look at their social media and it's obvious that the relationships are on the rocks."

"Where do you get that? All I see are typical happy relationships. Selfies, checking into special events together, posts about kind things one does for the other. Nothing indicating a troubled relationship to me."

"The gentlemen doth protest too much. They're painting an overly happy painting on social media, hoping that some of that happiness will actually become real. They're desperate for the relationship to work."

"Let's say you're right. I don't think you are, but let's pretend for the sake of trying to see your logic through. Why? Why would they be so desperate to save a failing relationship?"

"God, straight men just don't fucking get it!" You went to grab a file, missing his small flinch. "You don't understand how limited the dating pool for men who are into men is. Look at the most recent couple in particular. The most lovey-dovey on social media, and got the most brutal deaths."

"Yes, because they were the happiest. My theory holds," Reid interrupted.

"No. Look, this guy put way more out there on social media than his partner, and look at the pictures he posted. Look how forced his smile is, look at the body language. He needs this relationship to work, because dating as a gay man is one thing, dating as a gay trans man is almost impossible. Having to start over and deal with transphobia over and over again is worse than being in a bad relationship. In his eyes, I mean." Shit, the first person I come out to on this team cannot be Spencer fucking Reid. He doesn't deserve the honor.

"That was yesterday. We haven't gotten the autopsy report yet. How could you possibly know that he's trans?"

"Testosterone vials and needles in the bathroom. Neither of them are old enough for a cis man to reasonably have issues that require testosterone injections. It's HRT, hormone replacement therapy."

"Even if you're right, your conclusion still seems like a much bigger jump than mine, that the killer sees the relationships as happy and is lashing out at that, be it from jealousy or homophobia."

"Whatever. You'll see tomorrow, when we talk to the M.E., that he was trans, and that fact backs me up. I am absolutely right about this, and you will eat your words. Then I will present my theory, and you can choke on yours."

"We? You anticipate us spending more time together?" He raised an eyebrow.

"I meant 'we' as in the team, asshat. The world doesn't revolve around you. Mine sure as hell doesn't. I'm gonna go back to the hotel, write my own damn preliminary profile, and try to get some fucking sleep. Clearly we won't agree on this."

"We don't ever agree on anything," he pointed out.

"Not true. We agree that we dislike each other and can't get along. Good night, doctor." You turned and walked away, not giving him a chance to respond.

This man is going to be the death of me, he thought as he watched you walk away.

~

The autopsy report came in the next day, and you were right. The tech team also found a locked notes app on his phone that catalogued his unhappiness and fear of leaving. You presented your preliminary profile to the team. Reid didn't even argue; he just sat in silence, leaving the room as soon as you were finished. Never one to pass up a chance to gloat for beating him, you offered to get coffee for the team, got everyone's order, and left shortly behind him.

You were expecting to catch up to him, his impossibly long legs be damned. You weren't expecting him to be waiting for you. He pulled you into an empty interrogation room and pushed you up against a wall, his face just inches from yours. It was only a moment before being flustered by the closeness and those goddamn eyes were replaced by anger.

"What the FUCK, Reid?"

"What game are you playing, Y/N? What game are we playing? What's your endgame?" He spoke quickly and softly, but there was an intensity in his voice that had you captivated.

"I'm the one playing games?" You pushed him back, away from you. "You're the one who decided to hate me before we even met. When I transferred, all I wanted was to do a good job and fit in with the team. But quite literally from the minute I walked through the door, you'd decided you hate me. Turnabout is just fair play, gorgeous." Oh, fuck.

"Gorgeous?" You walked past him to the other side of the room, running a hand through your hair and turning your back on him. "Fine. Yeah, okay? I wanted approval from the brilliant and handsome Doctor Spencer Reid. In a way that's respectful of your heterosexuality, of course." You turned around and faced him again. "But that doesn't matter, because you made it clear you wanted nothing to do with me right off the bat."

"What makes you think I'm straight?" He's fucking with me, now that that cat is out of the bag. Great. Fucking cishet men. Even he's no different. Thank god he still thinks I'm cis.

"Garcia mentioned in her newbie-run-down that you're 'awkward, but in a cute way, especially around women'. Plus, she mentioned that Emily is bi, leaving everyone else implied straight as even the best cishet allies are wont to do. And as we both know, Penelope knows everything.

And before you make the hearsay argument I can see forming in that brilliant head of yours, I've heard and seen too much about your impeccable memory to assume you don't remember when we all went to the bar after my first case. I was unabashedly Queer, friendly flirting with Derek and calling out cishet bullshit. When I did the latter, you literally rolled your eyes and walked away. Which is, funnily enough, some cishet bullshit. 

JJ said you were just going through a thing and things would get better, but they just got worse. I'm not going to ask you to spill whatever was going on, because it's not my business, but god damn, dude. Why did you hate me so much so quickly?"

"You asked JJ about me?" He took a few steps towards you, a small smile on his face.

"That's the part you focused on? Jesus fucking Christ. Yes, I asked her about why you decided to hate me before we even met. Whatever. I hope you got whatever you were looking for by pulling me in here. I'm done. Done with this conversation, done with whatever has been going on with you and us since the day I transferred." You turned to leave, but he grabbed your arm. It was barely more than a light touch, but you let it stop you.

"Y/N. I can't-" he sighed. "God, you make my head spin. I can't organize my thoughts enough to say what I want to. JJ was right, there was something I had to work through, and I guess you'd made up your mind about me before I figured it out. It isn't an excuse for how I treated you, just an explanation. As for the more recent development of arguments… I guess I read a subtext that wasn't there. I could never dislike you, let alone hate you. I am truly sorry for- for all of it." With three long strides, he was out the door.

Make his head spin? What subtext? Since when is he unable to say what's on his mind? And what was that about not disliking me? All we've done since we met is argue or ignore each other. Why else would he act like that? Why do I even care? Why am I so knotted up about what he's thinking and feeling? Whatever. Fuck him, and not in the fun way. I've gotta go get coffee for the team. As you were getting the coffee, you couldn't get the memory of his face, so close to yours, to stop playing in your head.

The rest of the case was mostly as normal, but there was an energy between you and Spencer that was distant like when you joined the team, but there was something else to it that you couldn't quite put your finger on. It made you a little bit sad, though, for reasons you didn't understand.

~

"I love you, Y/N. I love you so much. I pulled away from you because it terrified me how much I loved you from the moment you walked through the door that first day. Being around you, even when we were arguing, made me feel alive in a way I never had before. You're all I think about, you're all I could ever want. I love you."

"I… I love you too." You didn't know which one of you moved, maybe you both did, but in an instant, you were kissing Spencer Reid, and you couldn't have been happier.

-

You woke up with a start, breathing heavily. You looked around; you were in your room, home alone, and it was 3:37 am. What the hell was that?

Four hours later, you trudged through the door of the BAU office, venti red-eye in hand. You made it about ten steps before Derek had his arm around your shoulders.

"Whoa there, hot stuff. Rough night?" You tried to shake him off, but he wouldn't budge, so you just kept walking, making him go with you towards your desk.

"So not your business, Derek. You being open with your personal life doesn't mean we all have to be open like that with ours."

"Personal life, huh? So who is he? More importantly, how was he, and should we expect more mornings like this in the future?" You rolled your eyes and playfully shoved him away. You'd reached your desk, so you sat on top of it, facing him. As you did, you made eye contact with Spencer, who was well within earshot. His face was unreadable, and you weren't sure why him hearing Morgan tease you like that upset you. It never had before.

"No, Derek. There's no one. Just some nightmares. Nothing major; I'll be fine by tomorrow." You got off your desk, sat in your chair, and logged into your laptop. Derek whistled and walked away without another word, shaking his head.

You tried to focus on the paperwork you needed to get done, but you couldn't stop thinking about that dream. The feeling of his lips on yours… it felt so real.

This is ridiculous. Love? We don't even like each other. Well… there was the stuff he was saying yesterday- 'I could never dislike you, let alone hate you', and some sort of subtext? But not disliking someone is a far cry from love. Plus, he's straight, so this is all absurd. And even if he DID have feelings for me, I sure as hell don't return them. I mean, maybe he's not as awful as I've thought, especially if he wasn't coming from a place of dislike. And he really is very pretty. Those eyes… Wait, what the fuck? This is all fucking ridiculous. I just need to get a full night's sleep tomorrow, and all this weirdness will be gone.

You took a giant gulp of your coffee, shook your head, and ran your fingers through your hair. Fortunately, Hotchner called a team meeting, forcing your attention to other things.

While no case could ever be described as 'normal', this case was pretty cut and dry, once you figured out what you were looking for. No dramatic twist, no tense showdown at his arrest. There weren't many cases like that, but you were very glad that this one was. You never sleep well when on a case, and no matter what you did, you couldn't shake that dream, the butterflies it left in your stomach every time you looked at him, and the strange disappointment when, unlike before that moment in Oregon, he wasn't looking at you.

Two more weeks passed. The energy between you and Spencer, whatever force it was that had drawn you together to argue again and again, was gone. You were polite to each other, and cooperated as necessary, but didn't do more than the bare minimum when it came to interacting with each other. Your interactions were cold and low-spirited. So you were so glad for a fun night out with Penelope, Emily, and JJ.

"So, Y/N, things seem… different… between you and Spencer these days. Did something happen?" Emily's tone made it clear that the three of them had intended to bring this up long before the plan to get drinks was even made. "I appreciate y'all waiting until I had a couple of drinks in me at least before going here. I guess we just got tired of fighting? I don't know. I can't figure out what's going on in that brilliant head of his. I thought I at least knew where I stood with him, even though it was purely adversarial, but I think I was wrong. But then that leaves me with no idea what he thinks of me or why I care so damn much."

"Really? No idea at all?" JJ asked. "I remember walking by a closed door in the police station in Oregon and hearing the word 'gorgeous' being thrown around." "Oh my god. You heard that?" You buried your face in your hands, and they all laughed.

"Yeah, I did, but only that one word. I'd figured you were on the phone with someone, but then you and Spence both started acting sad. I wasn't sure, of course, that you were talking to him until just now."

"Fuck. Okay, yeah. I think he's pretty. But I'm absolutely not alone in that. Derek calls him Pretty Boy, for goodness' sake. Appreciating someone's beauty doesn't have to mean anything more."

"Y/N, really? After everything we've been through together, you're gonna lie to us like this? Whatever happened, you've both been miserable since, and it's throwing the whole team off balance."

"What do you want me to say, Penelope? That I'm in love with him? He's pretentious and a know-it-all and a nerd and funny and kind and gorgeous and oh my God. I think I'm in love with him." The three women clapped and cheered.

"Finally, you get there! Took you long enough." Emily winked. "So, what's the plan now?"

"Keep this shit between us until my feelings go away. Even if he wasn't straight, I wouldn't risk fucking things up by telling him how I felt. As it is, I stand no chance in hell, so I'm just gonna write this one off as another straight guy I've fallen for and try to move on."

"Y/N, if you tell him-" Penelope started.

"No. You, more than anyone, know why I can't even entertain the idea of trying to be with him. I can't set myself up for that kind of pain. Not here, not where things are so good." You looked at all three of them. "I know that your intentions were good, but I just can't do this. I'm sorry." You grabbed your coat and left.

Your interactions with Spencer changed yet again. Now that you knew you loved him, you couldn't help yourself from being warmer towards him. As the weeks passed, you got closer. After three weeks, you considered him to be a good friend, not that that made things any less painful. You were just hoping that Penelope, Emily, and JJ were going to respect your wishes and drop the subject of your feelings for him.

[From: Penelope]: round table room ASAP

Shit. The last time you'd gotten that text from Penelope, the team left on a serial child abduction case 30 minutes later. So, despite it being your day off, you ran out the door and were there with your go bag in 15 minutes.

But no one else was there. No files on the table, nothing to indicate that there was a new case. You pulled out your phone to call Penelope, but then you heard a commotion outside the door- you'd closed it behind you.

"No, Derek, wait, I don't-"

"Can it, Pretty Boy, and thank me later." Derek opened the door, pushed Spencer into the room, winked at you, and shut the door, all in about 3 seconds.

"Spencer. Um, hi. Is the rest of the team not going to join us? Garcia's text seemed pretty urgent." You tucked your phone into your pocket.

"I don't think so, since I just heard Morgan barricade the door." He tried to open the door and failed.

"Oh my god they're Parent Trapping us. I'm gonna kill them."

Spencer tilted his head, confused. "Parent Trapping?"

"Oh my god have you not seen any of the Parent Trap movies? Were you living under a rock in 1998?" "I was seventeen and working on my first doctorate, so pretty much, yeah," he laughed. You couldn't help but laugh, too, as you firmly ignored how his smile made you absolutely melt.

"Fair enough. The '61 one is good too, but the '98 Lindsay Lohan one is Iconic for good reason. Anyway. The point is, they've locked us in here and won't let us out until we have a conversation."

"Just a conversation? Or do they want us to talk about something in particular?" He took a seat at the table.

"I- yeah, they have a particular topic in mind. I'm so sorry. This is my fault. I was tipsy and said things I should have just kept to myself. I thought they'd respected my wishes and left well enough alone, but clearly they didn't. And they won't let us out of here until I tell you-" you hesitated.

"Tell me what?" He leaned forward, and part of you swore you saw hope in his beautiful brown eyes. You looked at the floor, avoiding them.

"Tell you that I… have feelings for you. Romantic, cheesy, butterflies-in-my-stomach feelings. I don't know why they want me to tell you this. We've just gotten to a good place as friends, and you're straight, and-"

Somehow you missed the sound of him getting up and taking the few steps over to you, because you practically jumped out of your skin when his hands were suddenly on your shoulders.

"Y/N. Please, darling, look at me?" Bewildered by the endearment, you did, and his smile was blinding. "I'm not straight. I'm bi, and I think part of me has been in love with you since your first day at the BAU. The thing JJ said I was working through? The potential problems of having feelings for a coworker. For you. As soon as you walked through that door", he pointed and then took both your hands in his, "I loved you. The night at the bar? I was rolling my eyes at myself for how much I wanted to kiss you, and I walked away to stop myself from doing something reckless. I love you, Y/N. Can I do something reckless?"

"I'm trans," you blurted. "I hope that doesn't change anything, but it's something you should know. If knowing that I'm trans changes things, now is the time for you to say something. If it's a problem and it blows up later, it might actually kill me. Because I love you, too. So much. If it doesn't change anything, then please, Spencer, kiss me."

The words were barely out of your mouth before his lips were on yours. You weren't sure how long you were kissing before you were interrupted by cheers from the other side of the door. "Shit, Spencer, they're going to be the worst about this, aren't they?" You were a bit embarrassed by how breathy your voice was, but you were too happy to really care.

"Oh yeah. We're not going to get a moment that's just us in this building ever again. Do you want to get it over with and face them, or would you prefer we stay in this moment a bit longer?"

"What do you think, doctor?" you asked, pulling him in for another kiss.

[shortyisweird9]

'Lonely ghost serie'

An interesting night- part II

Tw⚠️: swearing

Corpse stretched as he set up his work station, Pewds was starting another live stream and invited him on and since sleep won't show up anytime soon, he hopped on without much thinking.

He smiled when his friends started to greet each other and him.

"Guys, you saw the video I send you ,right?" Lily asked.

"Yeah but I couldn't get in touch with ghost ,her friend was kind to let me know she might not feel comfortable doing a livestream with complete strangers. "Jack said as the others puffed in disappointment.

"That sucks. I wanted to see if she could have kill us all." Grease spoke as he opens a can of soda.

"You wanted to be killed by her?!"

They laughed as Grease quickly defended himself.

"Hey-Hey, to be killed by someone with that skill is a privilege."

"Simp." Jason concluded.

Their laughter ran wilde as Grease again began to shout.

"Hey,Lily?"

"Yes, Rae?"

"You been quiet. Something's wrong?"

"Whenever you are ready." She simply said, confusing them.

"W-What? Lily are you okay-"

"Hello,gents!"

It was her.

"GHOST?"

"Oh my god..."

"HOW but Jack said-"

"Guys ,guys ,please don't overwhelm." Lily again said, calming the both parties.

"Right ,sorry. Anyway, top of morning to yah ,ghost."

He could hear her swallowing her nerves before she cleared her voice, tingles ran down his back when the Reaper like tune hit his headphones.

"Hello!...This is awkward. Sorry."

They giggled with her as she moved in her chair.

"Ghost? "

"Yeah?"

"Your friend said you will not feel comfortable enough to join us today."

"Well, it's raining so that puts me at ease and your friend, Lily, was very convincing on bring me here."

"*giggle* I just showed you picture of my friends' pets."

"...As I said before, very convincing."

They always laughed especially when the stranger proved to be funny enough to bring that chuckle out of them.

"So ready to rock?"

"Let's roll."

————————————————————

The match was entertaining with couple of close calls, too close for your liking. Corpse was on you the entire time so to pay him for his diligence, you killed him first as he struggled to swipe that damn key card.

Then Jason, then Jack, Rae proved to be a bit harder to kill but you got her in O2, Lily was easy, Sykkuno was all confuse as he watched the crewmates die with him doing nothing, Pewds and Mark were a game of venting and killing swiftly. Speed was the key of your success of killing them all.

You could see they have their microphones on but no one said a thing.

The mischievous smirk that was plastered on your face grew when sounds of confusion came from Jack. Always the loud ones reveal the most.

"Whaaaat?"

"What the fuck?"

"I literally didn't have time to even kill any of you. Ghost came in like: slash ,slash, kill,kill."

You finally cracked at the ridiculous sounds Sykkuno made, a poor imitation of the sabers from Star wars.

"Hahaha"

He heard your laugh, he like the sound of it , the easiness and the innocence it held even though you killed all of them without mercy. What he didn't know if he liked was the stirring in his stomach cause by it. The tightness in his breath, the long smile and the bouncing of his legs as a result of hearing it.

He just shook his curls before paying attention to the group again, you were being put in the spotlight, something he cringed at as he recalled the painful experiences he had while being put under light.

"So, ghost?"

"Yes ,Jason?"

A whine came from the man known now as a simp for deep voices. You giggled, shaking your head and screaming when the black pair of headphones fell down your lap. Luckily you had the mic muted. That will be embarrassing...

You fixed your long hair, putting it behind your ears careful to not tug on your fresh piercings , your headphones back on the top ,you dived right back.

"Can you tell us about yourself?"

"Hmm..what do you want to know?"

You heard him sucking in a breath and to be honest you couldn't blame him, the voice was hot.

"Um ...anything. "

You giggled half embarrassed, half amusement by the pitch his voice turned to ,excited to hear whatever you may answer.

"Oh,okay. Um...My piercings hurt. My right leg is bouncing like crazy and um...I crave jelly candy."

"Piercings?"

"Yeah, my pal just did on my right three helix piercings: forward, mid and low. Plus the industrial on my left ear iches a bit."

"Oh, I am sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry about, Jas. Thanks for asking by the way."

"Oh, don't worry. Do you have any others?"

"Um..yeah. On the right ear ,I have..um. helix , flat, rook and upper. Left ahh..industrial,helix and orbital."

"Wow, th-that's a lot."

"Hah, I just told you about my ears."

A choke cane from him ,probably he was drinking something. It had ice though, you could hear the ice hitting the metal of the glass.

The man started to choke and cough ,making you and the others who listened patiently on your convo worried.

"Easy there ,mate."

"Jay, you good?"

"Easy there ,buddy."

"I-I'm *cough* I am fine. You have MORE?!"

"Yeah ,three on the upper part of my right eyebrow and a ring on the left one."

"Jesus. " He said, calming himself at last.

"Yeah,*giggle*. I also plan to slit my tongue in two."

"Oh, yeah cool.WHAT?!"

————————————————————

The next game you were imposter again but this time Corpse was your sidekick. Or were you his?

Anyway, you decided to let him do more of the killing,believe it or not , you weren't the blood thirsty monster the chat thought of you, all in a joking manner of course. Sabotage and let Corpse do his Kiss of death. Seeing couple of his streams ,you hoped he wasn't too nervous.

"Alright guys, ghost is imposter with us so this time I have to be more careful. They will probably suspect her to be imposter again . Sorry I can't see your message, I need to concentrate on this."

Proving his theory , ghost just sabotaged as she did fake tasks, being a guardian of Lily as he killed so far Mark and Toast.

"W-Where was the body?" His voice came of a bit more nervous then usual.

"In the nav." Dave answered.

"You good ,Corpse?"

He heard you ask ,you were more observant than the others who either lost themselves in the safety feeling of the match or the euphoria of the game, you always pointed suspicious behaviours of the others when they accused him of being imposter. He liked that, gave him time to calm his raging heart.

"Y-Yeah..*cough* I mean yeah, I am good. H-How about you?"

Fuck...

He didn't even want to catch a glimpse of the chat ,having a hunch of what they may be inferring.

"You seem shaky, Corpse. Something happened?"

He didn't needed to see Sean's face to know it will matched a lenny one. Finding an excuse so he is spared of the teasing and/or the allegations he is imposter, is a must.

"Yeah, I am just...ah...freezing. It's cold here. Brr. Brr."

They laughed at his poor attempt to sound like a freezing popsicle, your laugh put him more at ease. He knew however that his attempt of shifting the suspension failed, too bad he wanted to play more with you. I guess the roles are switching.

"He sound sus ,guys. Should we vote him out?"

"Wow, Lily. Thanks."

The girl giggling only stopped when you started speaking.

"He's not sus, guys. He's just a dork ,a stick with crippling anxiety and honestly same."

God, he wished he could fist bump you right now.

"More like a branch but who we voting then?" Sean asked.

" SPEEDRUN!"

Felix sealed his faith however. Your work only left him flustered and with a derpy smile , his honour lost in the vacuum space.

...............CORPSE was ejected.............

"Well shit. Anyway ,guys. Let me see what you been talking about? And I better not see any 'SIMP' comments. "

————————————————————

"How?! How the fuck?! You tricked me!" Lily screamed at you for your betrayal.

"Wow, so now I have big trust issues with ghost." Grease announced.

"Deep mommy, no." Jason said ,bringing a laugh out of you for the thousand of time.

You started to like this guy, he and Corpse will be spared next time you are imposter.

"Sorry ,guys-"

"Who told you,you are allowed to do that?" Pewds shouted at you in a heated but not menacing tone.

"You didn't let me finish."

You took a sip out of your ice tea.

"RIP to ya'll but I am different. Not my fault the only guy I take advices from is Doomguy. And as the legend would say: Rip and tear."

"OH MY FUCK-"

You lowered your mic as they screamed in disbelief ,Corpse didn't said anything however. You were curious as to why?

"Corpse?"

"Yeah ,baby?"

Woah. That caught you out of guard. Like the warmth in your olive cheeks and the deliciously painful and frightening feeling of twisting in your stomach.

"Um..."

You blinked, no words head's empty.

"Oh, shit. Sorry, ghost. I didn't meant to make you feel weird."

"No,no. I am good. Ey, Jas?"

"Yes ,hun?"

"Do you take applications for your Corpse fan club?"

Jesus, what is this night even?

————————————————————

Hey, guys!💖

Hope you enjoyed the second part of the serie.

Anyway have a nice day/night!🌙🌌

Tagged 💖💖: @moolujk

[yellowocaballero]

Hey wouldn’t it be funny if I wrote a crossover between canon and the roleswap AU.

So I did <3. There’s no reason for this to exist, I was just bored and self-indulgent and amused myself by thinking about how fucking insane the Space Cadet team has to be in comparison to canon. This takes place at S4 Canon!Jon’s time, and basically between chapters 2 and 3 of solitaire. It is not canon. Do not think too hard about it. Enjoy. Story under the cut. 

“Yes, in almost every way.” Jon wiped his mouth with a napkin, balling it up and dropping it on the table. “Jonathan Sims, thirty one years old, Aquarius. Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute. The Archivist.” He paused a beat, uncertain of how to broach this. “I think Helen may have deposited me in an alternate dimension? Best case scenario.”

Everybody stared at him blankly. 

“Well,” Basira said finally, “sounds like the kind of bullshit you get yourself wrapped up in, Jon.”

“I knew it!” Sasha cried, before deflating. “I mean, I didn’t, really, not at all, but that’s fascinating! Will you answer some questions? Who’s the Queen in your universe?”

“I’m back from the dead for a week and my life’s already stupid again,” Tim said blankly. 

“Two Jons?” Martin asked, far too excitedly. 

“Can I leave you alone,” Melanie gritted out, between clenched teeth, “for five minutes?”

Jon woke up at his desk, which was so common that it was somewhat pathetic. 

Not that a lot of things weren’t pathetic about Jon, but seeing as he no longer technically had anywhere to live he’d give himself a pass. Or was it pathetic to be homeless too? Jon felt strongly as if it was, but he was working on the judgemental thing. Martin had always -

Martin. Jon blinked blearily at his empty desk, scrubbing a little at the sleep that had accumulated in the corner of his eyes. Right. Speaking of pathetic. Jon didn’t like admitting that Martin was the first thing he thought about when he woke up and the last thing he thought about before he went to bed, but he was working on being more honest with himself. Denial about the situation didn’t do anyone any favors. Denial was what made him start stalking and hunting people like - like some sort of awful predator. No more denial. Jon knew who he was, and he knew what he was, and he was going to try and be as good a person as he can be despite it. It was the least he could do. 

Wait. Why was his desk empty?

It wasn’t completely empty. There was a laptop on the center of it, and some assorted papers stuck haphazardly underneath. The usual recorder was tucked into the corner, clicked off. He swiped his hand over the trackpad of his laptop, quickly logging in, and instead of seeing his usual research or theory maps, he saw...a video game?

Jon squinted at the video game. What was The Sims?

He looked around his office, well-lit with the harsh fluorescent lights. It was his office, complete with the couch on the far wall that Daisy had taken to napping on and the two walls of metal shelving that held filling boxes and collections of tapes. Several filing cabinets were lined up behind Jon, holding his favorite statements. Organized by Entity. He was quite proud of it. 

But the Statements seemed to be gone. Some loose papers were always scattered around, slipping out of boxes or sitting in haphazard piles weighed down by tape recorders. None of them were there. Basira must have taken them. Jon stood up, moving around the desk to pull out a box and peer inside. Empty. 

Some part of Jon’s brain, growing louder every day, wailed and gnashed its teeth that someone had stolen his Statements, his knowledge. Most of Jon was just worried over what Basira could possibly be doing with them. 

Unconsciously, Jon’s hand drifted down to his stomach. It was purely a habit, of course - the hunger never gave him stomach pains. He was so hungry all the time, he could barely feel it anymore. 

The Statements were all gone.

Was Basira trying to starve him out…?

Jon shook himself. She wouldn’t - well, she wouldn’t go behind his back to do it. She knew that he’d just start preying on people -

His life had gotten so pathetic. 

A loud crash and a yell echoed from the other side of the door, and Jon recognized Melanie’s voice. He winced, and decided to stay in his office for the time being. Best to stay out of her way. She always reacted somewhat explosively to him -

Then the faint, muffled tones of Martin’s voice echoed through the door, and Jon forgot all hesitation as he burst out of his office. 

The bullpen was just slightly different from where Jon had seen it last - the desks arranged differently, different detritus scattered around, no sleeping bags or hair dryers - but he wasn’t paying attention to any of that. He was only paying attention to Martin, who was sitting at his desk as easy as you please. He was smiling. 

Jon hadn’t seen Martin smile in so long.

He also hadn’t seen Martin wear those adorable little sweatervests in so long, but that wasn’t important right now. Jon cried out softly, like he had been punched - he did feel as if he had been punched, it wasn’t an unfamiliar sensation - and Martin turned slightly in his chair to look at him. He smiled when he saw Jon, so kind and happy and Martin, and Jon felt like he was dying at the sight of Martin just smiling, just looking at him. 

“Look, you don’t need to worry about me,” Martin was saying, to an unamused and remarkably composed Melanie. He held up a large combat knife, the metal glinting off the fluorescent lights. “Jon likes it.”

“See, it’s not you I’m worried about,” Melanie said, arms crossed. She was dressed - in her jeans and green flannel, like she used to. Her hair looked clean. The crop top, cut-off shorts, and fishnets, that Jon hadn’t seen her take off in the last month, where - “It’s poor Jon. He’s too desperate for affection to stand up for himself.”

“Jon, you okay?” Tim asked, sitting behind Martin and sipping a margarita. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

That was when Jon - hungry, tired, hallucinating - felt his legs give out. It was just in time, too. He collapsed to the ground just as Martin threw the knife, sending it whistling where his head had been half a second ago. 

Then he hit his head on the floor, and blissfully fainted. 

****

“ - she’s not his mother, it’s not Georgie’s job to make sure he eats.”

“It’s because Daisy isn’t here.” That was Basira’s voice, almost mournful. “Daisy always used to remind him to eat.”

“How did this guy make it to thirty again?” An unfamiliar voice asked. 

“If it wasn’t for this ragtag bunch of lesbians, I would have killed him months ago,” Tim said, then paused a beat. “What? I’m owning up to my mistakes.”

“Remind me to give you a sticker later,” Melanie said dryly. 

Jon opened his eyes, to see five faces crowded in front of him. They were all bending over him, identical expressions of mild intrigue on their faces as they bickered with each other. Martin looked very, very mildly concerned, as Melanie and Basira just looked exasperated. Tim - and the woman - who was the woman?

Instinctually, Jon reached out with his mind and sought the answer. But it was as if he was reaching with a limb that had been cut off. No, a limb that had never existed. Dazed, Jon lifted his real hand, if only to make sure that he could still move - and found himself staring at an unmarred, smooth, healthy hand. 

“Martin didn’t cut it off,” the woman said helpfully. She had a thick mane of curly brown hair, and brown skin a similar shade to his. She was holding a granola bar, and she easily stuffed it in his outstretched hand. “If that was a concern or anything. When’s the last time you ate, Jon?”

The question spent a spike of anxiety through him, Jon instantly interpreting it as an accusation. The granola bar wasn’t going to do anything. Of course he was hungry, he’s always hungry - 

Jon wasn’t hungry. 

Jon sat up, letting the assorted people, both alive and dead, step away. He mechanically unwrapped the granola bar and stuffed it in his mouth, chewing lethargically. It didn’t taste like sawdust and cement. It tasted like salt, and nuts. 

He swallowed the granola bar, forming a hypothesis. He looked at Basira, who at least was the most familiar here. It galled him even having to ask, not just knowing, but -  “What year is it?”

She stared at him, unimpressed. “If you hit your head we’re taking you to C&E. We can’t afford for you to get any stupider, Jon.”

“Your concern is noted,” Jon said, strained. 

“Don’t make fun of him, he’s a concussion victim,” Melanie scolded. She smiled at Jon - hideously novel. “It’s 2018. I’m calling Georgie and getting you home, you’re useless to us with a brain injury.”

He no longer had a hypothesis. Jon shook his head mutely. The last person Jon wanted to field questions from was Georgie. “I’m fine,” Jon said hoarsely. “I think I just need to - lie down a bit.” And not look at Tim. He was wearing a Hawaiian shirt, and was still slurping his margarita obnoxiously. He was leaning against a desk, somewhat heavily. “I’ll be fine.”

Everybody looked at each other, then shrugged. Melanie reached down and helped him up, gently pushing him towards the couch set up in the corner of the bullpen, and he found himself stumbling towards it and lying down. Martin loudly offered to nurse him back to health, which incentivized Basira and Melanie to quickly push him inside the recording room and lock the door for...some reason. Jon wanted to go talk to Martin, figure everything out with him. But he didn’t - paralyzed, or maybe just frightened, or maybe just very tired. 

The knife he had thrown was still lying on the floor, somehow innocently. The woman picked it up, inspecting it closely, and sighed. 

“There is something off about that guy.”

“None of them are ever going to believe you, Sash,” Tim said dully, flipping through a brightly colored magazine on his desk. Jon’s breath caught in his throat. “Melanie thinks it’s freakier if you haven’t stabbed anyone.”

This was it. This was when Tim would say, ‘Everybody wants to stab Jon’, or something. It’d be fair. If this was a dream, a fantasy of dead friends, then that’s what he would say. But he didn’t. Tim - strangely small, strangely gaunt, with hollow cheeks that reminded Jon a little of Daisy - didn’t look up at Sasha, flipping through his magazine, and Sasha avoided eye contact with him. She looked at Jon instead, from where he was lying on the couch, and gave him a strained smile. 

Jon found the courage to speak to her. It should have felt familiar, like Sasha, but nothing about her was familiar. He had listened to her tapes a dozen times, any scrap of her voice he could find, but - well, everybody sounded different on the tapes. “Sasha. Can you get me my phone? And a...Statement?”

Sasha brightened enthusiastically. “You want a Statement? Say no more, Jon, I’ll hook you up. Nice to see somebody taking an interest. Let’s keep this between you and me, okay?”

“What…?”

But she had already disappeared into his office, and the faint sounds of banging echoed throughout the room. Melanie and Basira were standing in the kitchenette, chatting lowly, Basira occasionally laughing at something Melanie said. 

Jon wondered where Daisy was, and instinctively tried to reach again before hitting that wall. He gritted his teeth, head still swimming. 

The most important thing was figuring out if this place was dangerous or not. Wherever he was, whatever was going on, he had to discern if it was a danger. Could this have anything to do with an unknown ritual? No, how could it? Elias? He wouldn’t put any of this past Elias. 

With a twist in his gut Jon remembered the cannibal priest’s Statement. Any suspicion of unreality, any feeling as if things were not as they should be...or was this a pleasant, Lotus Eater’s dream instead? If that was true, would Martin be throwing knives at him?

“Here you go! First one I saw on your desk.”

Jon sat up, mutely taking the paper and phone Sasha held out to him. It wasn’t his mobile - it was much nicer and sleeker than his own battered thing - but he had to assume it was Jon’s. He took the Statement too, scanning it quickly. 

Of course, of course. It was Anya Villete’s. Jon thought about this one frequently, captured by the prospect of multiple realities. Not worth the danger of exploring, but there was an intoxicating element of danger. Maybe the Jon that these people thought they were talking to had been reading it, and accidentally triggered something - 

“What did I say!”

Before Jon could react, the paper was unceremoniously ripped from his hands. Jon cried out helplessly, only to see Melanie standing in front of him with an unamused expression and his lifeline in her uncaring fists. 

“We’ve been over this,” Melanie scolded - scolded? “No statements, they’re bad for your tummy.” She frowned at Sasha, who didn’t seem very guilty. “And I told you to stop enabling him. He’s already sick, and you know these things upset him.”

“I’m gathering data,” Sasha said cheerfully. “Something weird was happening in his eyes when he was reading that Statement. Give it back, I need to record it.”

“Can I have that back, please?” Jon asked planatively. “I need it.”

“You do not.” Melanie folded up the statement tightly, shoving it in her jeans and ignoring Jon’s cry of despair. “If you’re feeling under-stimulated, go play knife monopoly with Martin. Otherwise relax and make sure you aren’t going to faint again.”

“I’m not going to -”

“I will call Georgie,” Melanie threatened, and Jon clicked his mouth shut. Melanie nodded, satisfied in having won the argument. If it was even an argument. “Sasha, if you let Jon find another Statement I will be locking the library and giving the key to Martin.”

“Yes, boss,” Sasha said, depressed. 

“Tim, you’re with me, we need to design our plan of attack for chasing down Daisy,” Melanie barked, and Tim straightened in his seat. Jon saw for the first time that there was a folded up cane on his desk. “I need your dumb fear demon powers.”

“That’s not how they -” Tim started, but at Melanie’s look he quailed. “Yeah, boss.”

“Great.” Melanie folded her arms, frowning down at Jon, and at the receiving end of the look Jon found himself quailing too. “If you leave the Archives to do anything other than go to the bathroom the rest of the day, I will tell Georgie that you were exerting yourself while sick again. And she will call you a poor little dear and give you lots of hugs and lots of soup. You will hate it. Is that clear?”

“Yes, boss,” Jon said, depressed. 

“Good. I need to go psychologically torment more people, I’ll be in the library. Tim!” She snapped her fingers, and strode off to the library as Tim scrambled up and limped after her. 

Jon watched her go dazedly as the library door clicked shut behind her. Sasha sighed and went back to her desk, cracking open the thick books on the top and relaxing. They weren’t even research books, just nonfiction about the Mayflower. Basira was back at her desk too, this time with her chin resting on her arms folded on the desk as she watched a...movie. Was that a romcom? 

This was dangerous. The situation was dangerous, doubtless the plot of some force or another that hated Jon personally and wanted him to suffer. He had to do some research, find out what was going on, track down Elias and find his power and dig into that source of infinite knowledge lying dormant in his mind, uproot every terrifying thing that hated him and shake them down for answers.

But he was more scared of Melanie. Just because she didn’t seem to have any knives on her didn’t mean that it was the case. Unless Martin had them all. So Jon lay back on the couch, rotely pressed in the passcode to his phone, and idly opened up the internet browser in complete comfort and relaxation. 

The couch was so comfortable and soft, in fact, that Jon soon fell asleep. Easy and smooth, as if he really was still a human, who needed sleep at all.

And when Jon dreamed, he dreamed of blissful and restful nothing. 

******

He woke up to someone shaking his shoulder, and Jon screamed himself awake as his eyes flew open. 

But it wasn’t anybody dangerous, or anything willing to hurt him. It was just - Basira. Just Basira. Jon exhaled in relief, ignoring Basira’s incredulous expression. 

“It’s five, we’re heading out. You feeling well enough for pub night, mate?”

They were going home. The strangeness registered first, the fact that Sasha was shrugging on a jacket and Melanie was stuffing a laptop in a backpack, before Jon remembered where he was. Or where he wasn’t. He mustered a faint smile for Basira, but judging from her frown it came out closer to a grimace. 

Pub night. They were going out for drinks, then going to their own flats. Eating dinner. Sleeping. Waking up the next morning, then heading off to work. The mundanity boggled. 

Maybe it was a Lotus Eater, Jon thought, dazed. A world where there were no Entities, no fears or harm. Where everybody was human, and happy. 

Maybe. He hadn’t actually been allowed to look at any of the Statements, so he didn’t actually know. He couldn’t imagine that this group would be so casual if the Statements really were true. 

Part of him wanted to beg off, curl up and sleep in document storage so he wouldn’t have to interact with these people for any longer. He was out of practice: these days he rarely had long conversations with anybody who wasn’t Daisy, and he hadn’t seen Daisy all day. Basira exchanged a few curt sentences with him each day. Melanie...cried and screamed, a lot. Not exactly conducive to social skills. 

  Sasha’s face was buried in a book, not even looking up as she navigated the desks. Tim was talking a patient Melanie’s ear off about Nietzche. 

“I think I can make it,” Jon found himself saying. “Just a pint.”

Besides, he had the feeling that if he curled up in document storage Georgie would...be mad at him. Or something. They were flatmates? Or something?

They walked out the door in a herd, talking and laughing. Jon found himself hanging in the back of the group, next to Sasha. She wasn’t looking up from her book, so Jon felt safe in staring unabashedly at Tim. He was using a cane, just like Daisy had for two or so weeks right out of the coffin. He even used it in the same way: not favoring one leg or the other, using it for strength instead of balance. Muscle weakness. He was just as emancipated as Daisy had been too, in that particular corpse-like way that made him look like a zombie. His hair was long and lanky, brittle strands reaching to his chin instead of his normal lush and gelled look. 

The faces in the lobby were the same - Sabrina behind the desk, Roy playing security guard - even as the decorations were different. No portrait of Jonah Magnus, or of the other directors. They broke out into the London street, as smoggy and crowded as ever, and Jon found himself trailing behind the others in a direct route to their usual pub. The same one he, Basira, Melanie, and Daisy go drinking at sometimes. Only sometimes. They went without him more often, but Jon didn’t blame them, really -

“Something on my face, mate?”

Tim’s wry voice startled Jon out of his reverie, and he flushed. Tim smiled at him, thinly and without humor, and gestured him forward as he dropped behind Melanie. Jon stepped forward, tucking his hands into his jacket, fighting the rising swell in his throat. 

“You’ve been staring. I’m not that much uglier, am I?” Tim asked lightly, a parody of his old good humor. That, at least, was familiar - Tim’s fragile and brittle humor, tightly leashing rage. 

“You...you look good,” Jon said. He buried his hands deeper in his jacket pockets, fighting the lump in his throat. He couldn’t stop himself from adding, “It’s good to see you again.”

It was probably a strange thing for Jon to say - but Tim just smiled, even more bitter than the last. “You’ve always been too nice for your own good, Sims.” First time that’s been said about him. “You forgive too easy.”

“Grudges...aren’t worth it, in my experience.” Jon exhaled slowly, watching Melanie’s red hair glint in the sunlight in front of him. “Life’s too short and all.”

“Really? Thought you people loved grudges.” Tim blinked a second, before clearly remembering something. “We love grudges, right. Still, Jon, I never really…” He trailed off awkwardly. “You know.”

He did not. “Right,” Jon said. 

“Apologized,” Tim said hurriedly, when it became clear that Jon wasn’t about to say anything committal. “For trying to kill you all those times. Uh, and trying to get you arrested. And helping frame you for murder. And that whole kidnapping incident -”

Something began to occur to Jon. A rational thought seeped into his brain. 

“In the woods,” Jon said slowly. “Because you thought I was a monster.”

Tim winced, confirming Jon’s suspicion. “Right. Trust me, I’ve had a lot of time to think, and I know I was wrong. I’ve turned over a new leaf and everything.” He brightened. “Did you hear I’m bisexual now?”

“Everybody heard you were bisexual now,” Basira said, bored. “Ten times.”

“Good for you,” Jon said, as sincerely as he could. “That’s...great. Bi rights.”

Tim beamed. “Bi rights!” He clapped Jon’s shoulder supportively with his other hand as Melanie held open the door to the pub for them, ducking inside. “Man, I never thought I’d see the inside of a pub again. I only got to go a few times with you guys before everything. Can Martin still hustle the room at pool?”

“One way to find out,” Martin said serenely. 

“Please don’t start a pub brawl,” Melanie said, pained. “We’ve been kicked out of three places already, I don’t fancy making it a fourth.”

But when Jon looked backwards, he saw Sasha looking up from her book, staring directly at him, blinking owlishly. 

They crowded into a corner booth, squishing up against each other and all talking at once. Jon wanted to drift towards Martin, get him alone and ask what was going on, but after one look at him eyeing up the pool cues speculatively he changed his mind. Only Basira was acting even remotely normal, so he settled for sliding in between her and Sasha. He was dizzy with the noise and the clamor of the familiar pub, overwhelmed by the familiar-unfamiliar tide of voices, and it was taking all of his energy not to spend hours just staring at Sasha, memorizing every line and crease of her face.

The first thing he did was order every single crummy, greasy, soggy serving of pub food he found on the menu, ignoring the way his Assistants laughed at him, before settling in the corner of the booth and pulling out his phone. Jon wasn’t even hungry - he wasn’t hungry - but he was shoving every soggy chip into his mouth until he puked. A human body was a drastically underrated thing. 

Out of curiosity, Jon turned on the front camera of his phone and scrutinized his reflection. He had noticed that his hair was shorter, tied back in a puffed bun instead of his customary ragged ponytail, but beyond that he hadn’t checked. 

He looked...good. No longer gaunt and malnourished, he was a healthy weight. No bags under his eyes. Well kept fade and modest, well trimmed facial hair. No scar over his throat, no circular worm scars.  That was less of a surprise - Tim, Martin, and Sasha were all missing the worm scars. 

His eyes were brown. Just brown. No electrifying green, no spinning iris, no churning wheel of knowledge. Just his normal, boring brown. 

He hadn’t known how much he missed it. 

As the others started arguing passionately about...vlogs? Or something?...Jon pulled out his wallet. Money had the same old Queen on it, along with his old collection of take-out receipts that had all started disappearing when he stopped eating. A photocopy of a picture of his parents, heavily worn and creased. Still an orphan, then. Jon missed the days when that was his biggest problem. 

His driver’s license was the same as ever too. Same name - Jonathan Andrew Sims. Same birthday - February 14th, which he had always considered life’s practical joke on him. The United Kingdom still existed, which was either a good or a bad thing. 

He replaced his wallet, ignoring Sasha’s curious stare, and pulled out his phone. He had only gone so far as making sure that major world events were the same before passing out. This time, he pressed his text messages, and scrolled down his most recents. As usual, it was only a few people - almost all of which were at this table - but there were a few other people too. 

Georgie was the obvious one, and the most recent. He clicked on that conversation, unsurprised to see an immediate photograph of the Admiral looking angelic as he rolled around in some grass in a patch of sun. 

Georgie: Baby at the park soaking in some rays!!! <3 <3 <3. I caught him terrorizing a stray dog. Naughty baby!!

Jon blinked at the message. The Admiral did seem a little...more evil, than he once did. Why were his eyes green? Underneath was Jon’s own text, sent twenty minutes before he had woken up that afternoon. 

Jon: He’s committing atrocities and you’re laughing. You’re laughing. 

Jon couldn’t fight a smile. He missed Georgie. 

He switched over to the text conversation just underneath. He squinted at the contact name. That couldn’t be right. 

Gerry: can u pick up milk from aldis? and scented candles

Gerry: for necromancy reasons

Jon: Can you raise the dead tomorrow? Helen said she wants to talk to me so I may be home late. If you don’t hear from me in five hours she’s likely kidnapped me. As a heads up. 

Gerry: OH, SO LONG AS I HAVE THE HEADS UP?

Gerry: I’m making Georgie give Melanie the money to buy that toddler leash she’s always threatening to get for u. If u die im not resurrecting u. 

Jon: Have fun with one less person to share the rent

Gerry: we dont PAY RENT

Gerard Keay. Jon blinked at the phone. That conversation raised as many questions as it answered. Gerard Keay was alive? He was Jon’s flatmate? He practiced necromancy? None of it seemed very relevant right now, but it made Jon wonder who else was resurrected from the dead. Was necromancy common in this universe, like knitting?

Still, Helen explained quite a bit. It also suggested what Jon was already wondering: that the supernatural was far from foreign. If Helen was supernatural, and not just...a jerk. 

If Tim was an Avatar of the Hunt...if he had been in the coffin...and Daisy’s been hard to track down…

Jon was interrupted in his increasingly coherent train of thought by his food arriving, and all thoughts were thrown out the window. His basket of fish and chips slid in front of him, and he wasted absolutely no time in cramming the fries into his mouth three at a time, not wasting time salting or putting vinegar on them. They were dripping with crease, soggy and burning his tongue. 

They were perfect.

The waiter, looking somewhat intimidated, slid his bacon butty on the table too, and Jon took barely a moment to swallow before stuffing that in his face too. Bacon, butter, brown sauce - it exploded on his tongue, a cavalcade of salt and seasoning. Increasingly terrified, the waiter put his pie and mash on the table and quickly fled, as Jon finished cramming the sandwich into his mouth before moving back to the fish. It was hot, crackling on his tongue, strong and fishy and perfect.

Jon looked up from his food long enough to grab a glass of water and gulp half of it down. It wasn’t until he put his glass down that he saw the looks on the faces of his Assistants. All of whom ranged from frightened to terrified.

  Everybody except Martin, whose chin was propped on his hand and was sighing dreamily. “It’s really hot how you can pack it all away, Jon. Do you want to come over to my flat and let me cook for you? I’d make a lot of food. ”

Jon choked on his fish.

That was it for Sasha. She slammed her book down, expression intent, and jabbed a finger at a now wheezing Jon. “Jon would never choke at Martin’s creepy flirting! That isn’t Jonathan Sims!”

Jon stole Tim’s glass of water, ignoring his squawk, and downed that too. 

Now everybody really was staring at him, and Jon felt heat rise to his cheeks. As the kids say, busted. He should probably stop eating and make his escape while he still could, before Tim decided to change his mind on his ‘murdering Jon’ stance. 

But outside did not have pub food. Inside had pub food. Jon made his decision with the knowledge that, if his Assistants reacted from a reasonable place of Imposter-based trauma and killed him for pretending to be Jonathan Sims, he’d deserve it. He was not moving from this spot until his food was gone or his Assistants killed him. 

Jon finished off Tim’s water, dropping it back on the lacquered table, and hoarsely said, “I’ve been having a very strange day.”

Nobody leaped for his throat or pointed a gun at him, which was always nice. It was more than Jon had been expecting. Instead, everybody looked at Melanie, who narrowed her eyes. Jon realized, a second too late, that they were waiting for her. Whatever happened to him, Melanie would decide. 

...why Melanie? 

Melanie rested her elbows on the table, steepling her fingers in front of her mouth. She locked eyes with Jon, breaking him down like a judge at a dog show, and Jon tried to shovel mash in his mouth as innocently as possible. 

“Sasha. What’s your evidence?”

“He’s been acting weird all day,” Sasha said promptly, as if she’d been expecting the question. She shifted her arm purposefully, and Jon realized with a start that she was concealed carrying. Was that legal? “Jon never asks me for Statements outright, he always just sneaks them behind Melanie’s back. If he really fainted because he was hungry, he would have eaten his lunch too, instead of just my granola bar. And he hasn’t talked to Martin since he fainted - he isn’t even sitting next to him.” Sasha drew herself up triumphantly. “And, he looked actually scared when Martin threw that knife at him. He’s never scared of Martin. He normally just role-plays the fear bit.”

“Which I appreciate,” Martin said supportively, making Jon blanch. That elicited more suspicious looks from everyone, which Jon couldn’t even begin to parse. “But he has been acting strange today, hasn’t he?”

“Tim?” Melanie asked sharply. 

Tim sniffed loudly, wrinkling his nose a little. “Smells like him.” At Melanie’s intense look, he grudgingly added, “No sawdust or plastic. Flesh and blood, boss.”

Jon began stuffing forkfuls of pastry and meat crumb from the pie in his mouth as Melanie went back to squinting at Jon. Not glaring - just an intense, sidelong look, fingers steepled in front of her. “You aren’t denying it, Jon.”

Jon mumbled something. 

“Swallow your food.”

Jon carefully swallowed his mouthful of dough. “I have not eaten human food,” Jon said delicately, “in five months. I will answer your questions momentarily.”

And then Jon cleaned all three of his plates, to the dumbfounded looks of his Assistants. 

Finally, after everybody else’s drinks had arrived - including Jon’s pint, which he reached for so quickly that Martin stole it away from him and refused to give it back - and Jon had cleaned all three of his plates, he felt ready to talk. He thumped on his chest, burping a little, and leaned back in his plush seat. Melanie was nursing her pint, sipping from it slowly, as Basira gave him her usual ‘I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you’ look. 

“Okay,” Jon said finally. “I apologize for not - ah, clarifying before. I thought I was dreaming. To be honest, I worry that I’m still dreaming.” He looked down at his empty basket and plates. “I dearly hope that wasn’t human flesh or something horrid like that.”

Sasha perked up. “Like in the cannibal priest statement? That’s fascinating -”

“Shut up about cannibal priests,” Melanie groaned, and Sasha guiltily shut up. Oddly rude, but nobody seemed surprised. “You are Jon, right?”

“Yes, in almost every way.” Jon wiped his mouth with a napkin, balling it up and dropping it on the table. “Jonathan Sims, thirty one years old, Aquarius. Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute. The Archivist.” He paused a beat, uncertain of how to broach this. “I think Helen may have deposited me in an alternate dimension? Best case scenario.”

Everybody stared at him blankly. 

“Well,” Basira said finally, “sounds like the kind of bullshit you get yourself wrapped up in, Jon.”

“I knew it!” Sasha cried, before deflating. “I mean, I didn’t, really, not at all, but that’s fascinating! Will you answer some questions? Who’s the Queen in your universe?”

“I’m back from the dead for a week and my life’s already stupid again,” Tim said blankly. 

“Two Jons?” Martin asked, far too excitedly. 

“Can I leave you alone,” Melanie gritted out, between clenched teeth, “for five minutes?”

Then everybody was talking over each other, arguing and exclaiming and yelling, and Jon frantically drank his pint. They were so loud. 

Finally, Melanie chopped a hand through the buzz, and everyone quieted. She pursed her lips, looking Jon up and down, and he anxiously let himself get looked at. “How did you know it was an alternate universe? What’s the difference?”

“Martin threw a knife at me and Tim and Sasha are alive,” Jon said instantly. 

“I’m not actually dead in your universe,” Tim said quickly, “just trapped in an infernal demon hell coffin. If you can get me out, I’d be really thankful -”

“No, you’re quite dead,” Jon said apologetically. “That happened to Daisy in my universe, though. A - a lot of what you did here, I think, Daisy did.” He looked at Basira, frowning. “Where is Daisy? She’s not…”

“She’s fine,” Basira said curtly, folding her arms and leaning back. “Having lots of fun ditching us and having fun at her little secretary desk. It’s fine. I don’t care. She can do what she wants, she’s an adult.”

“Basira’s been pining tragically ever since Daisy ran off to go work for Peter Lukas,” Melanie said sympathetically. 

Jon felt a little called out. “Ah. That’s - that’s very unfortunate.” He slowly turned to Martin, who still seemed caught up in the ‘two Jons’ aspect of this. “And you’re...you would define yourself as full of rage?”

“At all times, all the time, without cessation,” Martin agreed affably. “Why? That’s not weird to you, is it?”

“Uh huh.” Jon slowly turned to Sasha. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to insult you, but...did you happen to once work as a Constable for the Met?”

Everybody winced. Sasha sighed. “I regret all of my actions and I’m very sorry that I was once a pig and I’ll never do it again because I value due process now.”

“Word, sister,” Tim said, raising his pint. 

“Hm,” Jon said, far too much coming together.  But that left a big question, one thing that didn’t make sense. “What about me? Do I - eat trauma?”

Basira stared at him blankly. “You try, sometimes, but we usually just spray water at you until you stop.”

“That explains it,” said Jon, despite the fact that it didn’t explain anything. 

“Your questions are pointless, and this is a waste of time.” Melanie clapped her hands sharply, making everyone straighten to attention. She stood up from her seat, everybody scrambling to protect their glasses as Melanie clambered on top of the table. “Helen! Get out here!”

“She’s not - she’s not Beetlejuice, you can’t just call her name and make her appear,” Jon said blankly. “How’s she even supposed to hear -”

“She can hear me just fine,” Melanie called, “because she’s been sitting at the bar this whole time.”

Everybody’s heads craned around to look at the bar. Through the stream of people, carrying drinks and laughing, Jon could faintly make out a tall, willowy figure with a large afro sitting on a barstool at the bar, tapping the rim of one elegant martini with a long, manicured fingernail. 

Then she swiveled around, and Helen grinned broadly at all of them. She waved cheekily with one hand, fingers waving and rippling strangely in the dim pub lights. “Hello! You rang?”

Melanie jabbed a finger at the table pointedly. “Michael’s too young to be here too, Helen!”

“They’re eighteen, they’re a big non-Euclidean concept!” Helen tittered, as she hopped of the stool. Jon’s draw dropped as a much smaller, slight figure next to her hopped off too. They were a teenager, with a curly mop of blonde hair and big, watery blue eyes that seemed just a little strange. Everything about them was on the edge of familiar, and not in the usual way of the Spiral. 

“She was waiting for us to figure it out,” Basira murmured, catching Jon’s attention. “It’s definitely funny to her.”

“Helen defined schadenfreude, I’m afraid,” Jon said, depressed, as Helen and her tagalong popped up at the edge of their table. Melanie had said Michael - and the kid did look like Michael, younger and alive and wide-eyed. Their watery eyes caught on Jon, and they tilted their head curiously. The sight of them hurt Jon’s head more than the Spiral usually did - a testament to the human body he was borrowing. 

Human. That was no defense. He was vulnerable, and judging from the angle of Helen’s smile she knew it. 

“Enjoying your vacation, Archivist?” Helen tittered, folding her hands girlishly as Melanie hopped off the table and back in her seat. “I’ve been having so much fun in this universe I thought I ought to bring a friend! Buy one plane ticket get one free, you know. I have this coupon for a great spa around here -”

“Helen,” Melanie intoned dangerously.

Helen tittered a nervous laugh. Was she...scared of Melanie? “Don’t worry! Your darling little Jon’s perfectly safe. He’s having a great time in one of my favorite dimensions, this wonderful post-apocalyptic adventure with a werewolf -

“Helen,” Melanie said slowly, danger building with every word, “we talked about what happens when you remove Jons from their native ecosystems.”

“They get sick,” Michael said somberly, nodding their head. “An’ wilt.”

“It is very stressful for the Jon, Helen. You know what we don’t like?”

“A stressed Jon?” Michael volunteered. 

“Yes, Michael.” Melanie smiled pleasantly at Helen, who blanched. “A stressed Jon. Because when Jon gets stressed, my girlfriend gets stressed. And when my girlfriend gets stressed, I get stressed. And when I get stressed, everybody is about to have a very bad time. Get it? Helen?”

“Completely understood, very sympathetic, I see your point completely,” Helen said hurriedly. “Really, you can say that I did my dear Archivist a favor! He hasn’t had a human body in almost half a year, the poor dear was so sad about it. It’s a break, really!”

Tim squinted at Jon. “You’re really full on fear demon, then?”

Jon squirmed guiltily, ashamed.  “I prefer the term Avatar. But...yes, I’m an amoral monster distant from humanity, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Melanie said impatiently. “You’re about as far from humanity as I am. Having stupid superpowers or cramming shitty food into your mouth doesn’t make you inhuman, it just means you hang out with the wrong crowd. Go back to your own universe and get some rest, I bet you’re stressing out all your friends.”

“I’m really not,” Jon said weakly. “I - I really only have one friend.”

“No wonder you look so tragic all the time,” Sasha said thoughtfully. “Jon gets all mopey without affection. Like an unwatered plant.”

“I eat trauma,” Jon said, bewildered at the perception of harmlessness. 

“You and half of the YouTube vlogging community.” Melanie clapped her hands again sharply, pulling everyone to attention. “Helen. Put Jon back where he came from or so help me.”

“Ruining all my fun,” Helen pouted, but at Melanie’s glare she sighed. She held up one hand, and static rippled through the air. The hand elongated, twisted, and turned into Helen’s signature lengthy claw. Michael eyed it with interest, before holding up their own hand and doing the same. “Fun while it lasted, Archivist! Now hold still. I wouldn’t want to lobotomize the wrong lobe.”

“Nice meeting you,” Sasha said politely, to a very freaked out Jon. “Don’t come back, though.”

“Come back if you want,” Basira yawned. “My life’s boring, spice it up a little.”

“Sorry I’m dead in your universe or whatever,” Tim said, waving a hand. “Life and death is meaningless anyway, so I’m sure it’s for the best.”

“I want my Jon back,” Martin complained. “Go on and get out, then.”

“Tell your friends what we told you,” Melanie said. “Don’t they know that you get all tragic when you’re lonely?”

And Jon didn’t know how to say it - that they didn’t know, or if they did then they didn’t care, because they had so many bigger problems than if Jon was sad or not. With Elias’ strange plans, with Jon’s encroaching monsterhood and his slow and steady starvation, with Martin’s loneliness and Basira’s desperation and Melanie’s instability, Jon’s feelings were the least important thing in the world. 

Did it matter, to anybody but Jon, that he thought of Martin first thing in the morning and last thing as he went to bed at night? 

“Hold still and look straight at me!” Helen said, and Jon had to be thankful - because that let him look at Sasha and Tim, eyes wide and intrigued, as Helen speared her finger through Jon’s forehead. 

Jon blacked out, but the images of Sasha and Tim stayed burned behind his eyelids. He dreamed calm dreams, of him and Martin and Sasha and Tim, laughing together, as the world faded away.

****

When Jon woke up, it was with a crick in his neck, and he knew immediately he had fallen asleep on the battered old couch in his office again. 

There was a heavy weight on his chest, and when he pried his eyes open he saw the top of Daisy’s head in front of him. Dusty blonde hair pooled on his chest as Daisy snored, deep asleep, arm stretched over his torso. 

The taste of salt and grease was on his tongue, and Jon let himself go back to sleep. The dreams would be terrifying and desolate, but at least in them he was never hungry. 

[excelsi-or]

your type (pt. 1)

Hello friends! I have retuuuuurned. I decided we’d go with the ‘dating you because of a date’ trope story (mostly because I’ve suddenly started OVERHAULING the shit out of the other story I’d proposed to you). It’s a decent-lengthen fic, a little more story-based than snapshot like my past two series. 

w.c. 2.6k (LOL, enjoy the set up. We hit the ground running pretty quick after this one.)

pt. 2

note 1: I’ve tried to make all the characters/idols in this one, so if you see a name and recognize it, yeah, it’s probably the idol you’re thinking of. I haven’t done this in my last two fics because I usually prefer not to, but I needed so many side characters to bring this story to life and I doubted you guys would be interested in me creating a bunch of random names and people you didn’t know. 

note 2: I don’t ship any of the idols that are ‘together’ in this fic or wind up ‘together’ in this fic.

When love is a game on a university campus, the question is always how many people can you get into your bed?

Her girls are all about this game. Between studying for exams, hobbies, volunteering and hanging out; they are swiping left and right, going on dates, meeting new boys on campus that they’ve never interacted with before.

To be systematic about it—because these are science majors—they’ve been working through varying departments. And they’ve left a specific department for their last year at school: the music department. For two reasons.

1)    The hottest boys come out of the music department.

2)    The fuck boys come from the music department.

If her girls are all about meeting and bedding various men, the boys in the music department are playing the same game. And she has heard various stories about girls trying to change these music department fuck boys.

She’s dabbled in the dating scene, but has quickly learned that the boys on campus just tend not to be her cup of tea.

“Party at Jackson’s tonight,” Jihyo tells her as she slips into the seat across from her at their dining room table.

“And who are you chasing after tonight?” she asks simply, erasing the subscript 2 she’d put down next to her carbon.

“Do you know Choi Seungcheol?”

She snorts. “I wasn’t born yesterday.”

“We’ve been flirting a little.”

Before she can respond properly, the answer to her chemistry question suddenly comes to her. She grumbles under her breath as she proceeds to erase half a page of work. “Did you go for your testing this morning?”

“Still clean,” Jihyo hums. The woman takes the chemistry homework distraction and uses it to her advantage. “How was that boy you met last week?”

“Eh.” She slowly starts over. “He was whatever. Little too handsy, little too spitty. Kinda boring.”

Jihyo laughs. “I still don’t think you’re giving these boys a chance.”

“Boy’s gotta meet my standard or fuck off,” she chuckles. She tosses her pencil into her notebook and closes it. She props her chin in her hands. “I’m guessing since you’re going to distract me from homework until I say I’m going to get ready that you have someone you want me to meet tonight.”

Jihyo shrugs. “No promises, but Cheol did say to bring my friends tonight so we can play card games at Jackson’s tonight.”

She gets to her feet. “We can do that at someone’s house and not at Jackson’s party.” She heads to her bedroom. “But fine. I’m always down to beat new people at cards.”

Having dabbled in a few music classes, she does actually recognize a few of Seungcheol’s friends. Seungkwan and Hansol come as a pair and don’t date around as much as the others do, likely why she’d taken a liking to them. When Jihyo drags her through the crowd at Jackson’s front door and into the living room, those two boys tackle her first.

She winds up on Hansol’s knee, his hand at her waist to balance her there. “How are you? We haven’t seen you since theory class.”

“I’ve been in the research lab,” she laughs. “You said you’d come visit me.”

“Not all of us are graduating, noona,” Seungkwan argues. “You’re done this year, but we have two years left.”

She ruffles his hair. “Excuses, excuses.”

“Have you met everyone else before?” Seungkwan asks when one of his friends returns with a few beers in his hands.

“Briefly.” She shakes her head when Hansol offers the beer.

Proper introductions are made, and conversation is easy. Jihyo is already in Seungcheol’s lap. His hand strokes her bare legs, likely ‘warming’ them. That excuse always makes her laugh.

Momo walks into the room, a little tipsy already, and scans the room. When the taller woman’s eyes land on her, she breaks out into a smile. “I need you to meet someone.” Without a response, Momo grabs her hand and lifts her off Hansol’s knee, pulling her back through the house.

“You good?” she asks Momo once they’re out of the room and entangled in the sea of people.

Suddenly, Momo stops them before an older looking man who looks incredible uncomfortable to be surrounded by university students. 

She stares up at this man and looks between him and Momo. “Who is this?”

“My boyfriend, Heechul.”

Her eyes widen. Momo had been going on about some older man she’d met at a café nearby. And Momo has been asking her to meet Heechul for a while, mostly for approval. Her girls think since she’s picky that she knows how to judge good men. She can’t confirm or deny that.

She holds a hand out. “Nice to MEET YOU!” She has to start yelling, because the music has picked up now that the party’s in full swing.

“Oppa was just dropping Sana and me off and Jihyo said that you were going to be here!” Momo gives her a little push towards Heechul. “Talk to him!”

She tilts her head. “Where are you going?”

“To find Sana and Jihyo!”

Momo pecks Heechul on the cheek and tells him that someone will call to be picked up.

Once his girlfriend wanders off, Heechul looks down at her. She motions towards the door. The man seems confused as to why a little girl is bossing him around, but he leads the way out of the house.

She stands on the front porch, leaning against the beam near the steps. “How old are you?”

“36.”

She almost chokes on her tongue. That is a very apparent 13-year age difference. “Right. Momo said you met in a café.”

“I spilled my drink on her by accident.” Heechul seems hesitant to say more. He leans up and squints at her. “Who are you again?”

“My name doesn’t matter, but I know I have some weight as to whether you and Momo continue to date.” She tilts her head. “Why Momo?”

“Why not Momo? She’s gorgeous, sweet, adorable.”

“What is Momo studying?”

“Something in science, but she’s a dancer at heart.”

She mulls that thought over in her mind. “And what do you do?”

The name is technical, which suggests that his job isn’t CEO. But it sounds stable.

“Kids?”

“None.”

“Married?”

“Never.”

She nods her head and then smiles sweetly. “Nice to meet you.”

Heechul doesn’t call after her like the other boys tend to do when she abruptly ends her weird interview, which reflects his age. But she knows he’s definitely confused by the way he lingers in the walkway.

Inside, her ears need to readjust to the volume. She weaves her way back through the house, the bass trying to alter her heartbeat in her chest. Just as she’s about to join her friends in the living room, she gets stopped by Jeon Jungkook. They’d dated for nearly a year during her second year of university. He’s dating his roommate now, but they’re still close. Jungkook picks her up around the waist and spins her.

“I haven’t seen you in ages! Why does it feel like you disappeared off the face of the planet?” Jungkook demands.

“I’m in hiding!”

“Hiding?”

“Don’t want you to suddenly fall back in love with me and leave Taehyung!” she teases. “Where is he anyway?”

Jungkook pecks her cheek. “Somewhere here! I had to drag him out from under his chemistry thesis!” Kim Taehyung wound up joining the chemistry graduate program at the university. His brain is legendary in the chemistry department.

“Tell him I say hi!”

“Where you going?”

She points to the living room over his shoulder. Jungkook’s brows rise, impressed. When they used to come to parties, they’d spend most of the time in whatever game room existed. Many of the houses they visited owned a pool table, and if people weren’t having sex on it, she, Jungkook, and a few of their friends would play rounds of pool until everyone else was too drunk to shoot straight.

“Aren’t Mingyu and his friends in there?”

She rolls her eyes, a smirk on her face. “Wish me luck!”

Jungkook laughs. “You don’t need it! Those guys would be insane to tangle with you!” He gives her a quick kiss on the forehead and pats her lower back. “I would know!”

They promise to meet up for a late lunch the following day after he’s nursed his hangover, and she rejoins her friends in the living room. Momo drags her to the floor. “What did you think of Heechulie?”

She gauges Momo’s expression. Her eyes are out of focus, which suggests intoxication thus suggesting more emotional responses. “Let’s talk about it tomorrow.”

“Yo.” She looks over at Hansol’s voice and catches the Coke can he tosses at her. The boys all ‘oh’ loudly, and she furrows her brow at the overreaction.

Suddenly, someone is leaning towards her and whispering, “He promised that one of you would be sober.”

She turns and finds herself face-to-face with Mingyu. “Okay…”

“It makes Stress a little more challenging,” Mingyu clarifies.

Stress is a speed-based card game, one that Jihyo had taught her last week. Now that she knows the boys love to play it, she understands where Jihyo learned it. When the woman had taught it to her, Jihyo had said, “I can’t wait until you get to play them!”

It had been such an odd comment at the time, but now that there’s a Stress tourney happening in the living room with 8 decks of cards, she gets it.

And here she is, after three rounds of Stress with various people, sat across from a man she only met properly about ten minutes ago: Jihoon. He’s flushed in the face from the heat of the party, the alcohol, or the anxiety of all the people who have been cycling through the room to watch.

“How drunk are you?” she asks as she shuffles.

Jihoon tips his head both ways. “I’ve had two.”

“Shots? Or beers?”

“Shots.”

She nods her head as she begins dealing.

“Noona, it’s not fair!” Chan whines, leaning into her. They’d played each other in the first round, and even with her going slow, she’d still won. “You’re not as drunk as us.”

Gently, she eases him into Seokmin. “I don’t drink. You guys wanted to play, so we’re playing.” She catches Jihoon’s gaze. “Do you care?”

Jihoon shakes his head. “Nah. Easy win regardless.”

Jihyo’s laugh is short and loud to prove a point. “Even if you were sober, Jihoon, she’d smoke you.”

Jihoon gives his head another shake as Seungcheol shouts go.

And she wins.

She has to squirm out of all the grabby hands that try to toss her into the air in victory. “I’ll be back.” She gets up and starts towards the kitchen. She feels someone following her and finds Jihoon there.

“You shouldn’t go alone,” he states.

She doesn’t question it. It is a house party. Guys she doesn’t know will try anything. She ducks around arms and around hands that try to grab her when they call out to her in greeting. She, however, pounces on Min Yoongi who is standing in the kitchen talking with someone.

“Hey kid,” Yoongi says once he gets over the surprise. “Haven’t seen you in eons.”

She digs around in one of the coolers for a Coke. Her drink had spilled four minutes into the tournament when Seokmin had lost and flailed his arms around, promptly knocking her drink off the table. “Jungkookie and I are going for lunch tomorrow. You should come if you aren’t busy.”

Yoongi hums. “Sure, kid.” He glances at someone over shoulder. “I can move some stuff around.”

She gives his arm a squeeze before venturing back through the mass of humans. When someone bumps into her, causing her to topple backwards, she falls back into Jihoon. His cool hands and broad chest keep her steady and guide her back to the living room. He releases her and returns to his spot at the opposite end of the room.

A beer she hadn’t noticed Jihoon take is passed off to Jeonghan. The boys all have someone in their lap or someone trying to get into it, and a few of her girls have disappeared.

She glances at the clock. Jihyo catches her doing this. “You can go,” Jihyo mouths.

She juts her chin their direction. “You going home with Cheol?” she mouths back.

Jihyo glances down at Seungcheol who is talking to Joshua, and then meets her eye again with a nod.

Immediately, she gets to her feet again and begins saying her goodbyes.

“You heading out?” Jihoon asks from his spot on the floor next to two girls and Wonwoo.

“Yeah. Music’s making my head pound.” She squeezes Wonwoo’s outstretched hand and runs a hand through Seungkwan’s hair as she passes.

Once again, when she glances over her shoulder, she finds Jihoon behind her.

“What?”

“Walking you home.” He’s already grabbing his jacket from the overstuffed hall closet. Some people’s jackets have landed on the floor.

She smirks. “You don’t have to do that.”

“You’re gonna walk home alone at night?” He shrugs his jacket on.

“You’re tipsy,” she snorts. “You should stay here.” She slips past him to find her own coat. It’s tangled in the back. Jihoon nudges her out of the way to grab it. He helps her into it.

“Are you going to say goodbye to say bye to Jackson first?” he asks.

“I don’t actually know him.” She zips up her coat and meets his eye. “You go say bye.”

“Come on.” Jihoon motions with his head for her to follow.

“No, I’m good.”

Jihoon somehow knows that if he leaves her for a second, she’ll be out the door without him. “Let’s go then.”

She doesn’t question him. As they walk back to her apartment, she pops open the Coke can still in her hand. “Just so you know, the walk is twenty minutes.”

“You were going to walk twenty minutes on your own?” Jihoon demands.

She glances over at him. “I didn’t realize you were so chivalrous.”

“And I didn’t realize you were an idiot.”

She snorts. “The walk’s well-lit and I find it’s more comfortable than taking the bus or a taxi.”

“Any walk is nice until it’s not.”

Instead, this walk is almost awkward. With anyone else, it definitely would have been. They say next to nothing the entire twenty minutes, though he does sip the soft drink when offered. At her lobby door, she turns and smiles. “It was nice to meet you. Thanks for walking me home.”

Jihoon studies her for a while. She wonders if this is one of his moves. She’s heard of Jihoon’s reputation through the grapevine. And if this is one of his moves, does this really get the ladies going?

Eventually, the scrutinizing goes on for so long that she slowly backs towards the door to go inside.

“Do you want to go for breakfast?” he calls after her.

“Breakfast?”

“I heard you say you were busy at lunch. How about breakfast?” Jihoon asks.

She glances over her shoulder as she unlocks the door. She lets herself into the apartment and stands half in and half out. “Sure. Goodnight.”

“What? You’re not going to give me a number to call you? You could just say no.”

She lifts an eyebrow. “Not as drunk as I thought. 9 AM here then.”

His brow furrows. “You want me to pick you up?”

She glances up towards the lights above the doorway that name her building. “You know where I live. 9 AM.”

Jihoon nods. “Okay.”

pt. 2