#so i cannot be too mad (until i watch it again and remember it's a fucking mess that didn't understand core themes of the karate kid)

[variousqueerthings]

@mauvecardigans every once in awhile it's good and healthy to get the sheer indignant feeling out at cobra kai, I think it's like a purification process -- if there's one thing every fan I've seen on tumblr have in common, regardless of which characters we stan, it's a knowledge that the show has fucked with them in some way, and that fanfic and fanart and meta that incorporates original movie themes is fixing it

(and then we collectively clown-makeup our way through s6)

(clown hand in clown hand)

[lanayrutower]

i'm about to throw hands with this yt poll.

this is the zelda version of that twitter butch post to me.

[keeps-ache]

ohh i do Not like my hair being wet ouhrrr

[namgyusbrat]

Lamb to Slaughter I

𐙚 Following Aegon's crowning of King, you attempt to settle into your new reality, with absolutely idea of what is happening around you. Your only company? The one eyed Prince himself.

𐙚 Aemond Targaryen x Reader (tw: manipulation, slight non-con, incest)

The nights following Aegon’s coronation were chaotic, whisperings of Rhaenyra’s claim lay about plainly as others argued the whore was not the rightful heir after all. Doors remained closed tight, no one talked too loud, servants kept to themselves. War was brewing, that was for certain.

You remembered the night your father died, your mother had snuck into your room and had gently woke you up. Cradled you as she gave you the news, you being the only Viserys doted on after Rhaenyra. And in some sick way, Alicent was sure you were her favorite too.

At first you did not comprehend how he was dead. He was not in good health, but to die so suddenly had left you confused.

‘My sweetling, he was not well. You saw. So weak, so poor in health.’ she spoke as she pet your hair.

Tears caked your face, hair matted to your skin, ‘I just don't understand.’

She sighed, ‘My poor girl.’

When Alicent had left that night, you had felt a void inside. Heartbroken and scared at the news. You found yourself in a familiar place, slipping out of your own chambers and into Aemonds. You wouldn't bother Aegon at that hour, him too drunk to even wake or want to comfort you. So instead you slipped into your more understanding brother’s space, the one who gently held you when you were scared and kissed you so gently.

But now, everyone's attention had been guided to Rhaenyra and her war. Everyone in the keep insisting she would come with fire and blood. And where you would seek Aegon’s affections, it would now be shunned upon. He was married after all, with two children and now king. He could no longer lie in bed and keep you entertained with his flea bottom stories.

✮⋆˙

“He's too busy now brother, too busy for me.” you complain, stitching at Aemond’s ripped attire. “He drinks a lot, I know this. But never stops by my chambers anymore. He must be so occupied with being king.”

Aemond doesn't reply, just makes an agreeing sound as his one eye watches you sew.

“How is Helaena? I know you two spend time together, she will not speak to me either. I wish she would, I get so lonely.”

“I talk to you.” Aemond reminds you.

You nod, giving him a gentle smile, “You’re always so good to me brother.”

His hand finds your arm, gently rubbing you to calm you.

“No one tells me anything. It’s…” tears form in your eyes.

“My love…”

“No!” you slam his arm away, getting up and begin to pace. “You are not to call me that! You are gone for days, on that beast you claim to be a dragon. Mother will not come visit me, Aegon has completely shunned me. Cole will not look at me and my dear sister will not speak to me. I am going insane in my room. Please. Please, what is happening?”

Aemond studies you for a moment, as if he were examining your outburst.

“I’ve never known you to yell. At all people, me.” he finally speaks.

It hurts you. The pain that settles in your chest after his words are enough to make you sick.

“I did not mean-” you return to him, placing your hand on his shoulder. “Please forgive me. I cannot stand if you are mad at me. I am losing my sanity. I'm so lonely.”

“Am I not enough to keep you happy?” he questions.

“I miss our mother, and our brother.” you admit. “When father was alive I wasn't so…lonely.”

“Because he kept you company.”

“I just want Aegon to visit again. Or mother. Or even Haelena. Please just ask them. Ser Kavvin does not let me leave ever. It’s like I am a prisoner.” it’s almost as if you were praying to the gods. Gentle and begging. Please please please.

Aemond is silent again, until he rises and kisses your head, “I’ll tell mother and brother to visit you my sweetling, it must be so awful for you to be cooped up in here, I am sorry Vhagar has my interests as of late. My priority has always been you.”

You beam at his words, the remembrance of your outburst a memory it seemed. Although the court was terrified of Aemond, you were not. Perhaps some of you was, but he was gentle and sweet to you, you almost had no reason to be scared. He took care of you, bringing you jewelry and new gowns, dining with you in place of your mother. He was the only human interaction you had gotten as of late, everyone else so preoccupied with Aegon.

“Is it?” you ask. Out of place, and you know it, but you cannot help yourself.

“I always thought we’d marry. Aegon had Haelena, but who has you, but me.” Aemond begins to cup your face. “I enjoy our time together, but there are matters I must attend to this afternoon. But don't worry, I will have mother or Aegon visit you.”

You struggle to understand his words, “What do you mean. Have me?”

He smiles and shakes his head, giving you a kiss on the lips before finding himself out of your chamber.

✮⋆˙

If anything Aemond does well, it's keep a promise. As he said, Alicent finds herself in your chambers a little after nightfall. She had maids run you a hot bath, your white hair gently slipping through her fingers as she brushed it.

“Why haven't you visited me?” you finally ask after too much silence.

“Aegon is being prepared to finally rule, I have been attending to it.” she says. “I am sorry, I haven't seen to you. I do feel bad.”

“Why must I be confined to my chambers.” you turn to her, violet eyes looking up at her.

“I do not trust…” she tries to collect her thoughts, not sure how to word it for you to understand best. “Aegon thinks it’s best if you are under protection. He thinks you might be a target for Rhaenyra’s anger.”

“Rhaenyra.” you say your sister’s name. “Rhaenyra is upset that father replaced her as heir?”

“Yes my sweet. She is upset that your father changed his mind about the succession. He decided he wanted Aegon on the throne after all.”

“I miss him.” you say after a while. “He was very sick…but he kept me company.”

“I am sorry, I am. I know it is no excuse but you must forgive and understand how daunting this has all been. So much has been done and needs to be done, the realm may be at war soon-”

“At war?” you interject, worry in your tone. “War? Why war?”

Alicent catches herself, she has slipped.

‘Do not mention the mess with Rhaenyra to her, I would not have her worry’ Aegon’s voice played in her head.

“No war my sweet, I only forget myself. I am sure Aegon will come to peace with Rhaenyra, and maybe she will even be seen back in the keep. You’d like that, right? I know you were fond of her son, Jacerys, I know you two were close.” Alicent goes back to braiding your hair, scared her words have put unrest in you. You did scare rather too easy.

“I don't want anyone at war.” you murmur.

“No war.” Alicent nods. “Aegon will be a good king, and make peace. I know it.”

✮⋆˙

If you were honest, you were close to Jacerys, spending time in the garden together and studying. Rhaenyra had taken a liking to you, mostly due to your shared father also taking a liking to you. You were not close with Lucerys, you did not know him well. You did not spend time with him nor were you very thoughtful towards him. No time truly spent between you.

So news of his death broke the in the red keep, you found yourself indifferent. No tears were shed, but your heart hurt for Jacerys.

Aemond had returned from dragon back, Aegon so delighted of his brother's victory, the murder of a child, that a feast was thrown. You were allowed in your finest green silk and finally allowed out of your chambers, where you sat among several counsel members and your family along with some court attendees. Aemond had been silent for most of the feast, ignoring the praise he had received, most of them insults for Rhaenyra. You watched him closely, hoping, begging he would make eye contact with you. But he did not.

For hours it went on like this, Aemond slowly sipping and eating at the feast presented in front of him, not truly present at the party that was all for him and his victory.

Aegon, ever drunk, was quite present. Too present.

“My sweet sister!” his voice calls, and you turn to him. “Where have you been hiding?”

“My chambers, on your ruling.” you murmur.

“My ruling? Why would I ever…” he hiccups and slams himself down in the chair beside you. “I have missed you soooo much. Your absence has been noted, why do you scorn me so?”

His words don't make sense to you. Your mother’s words and now his, dancing in your head. You hadn't noticed, not truly noticed, until you briefly look at him, that Aemond is staring at you. For the first time in the entire night, he simply stares. But his gaze is far from comforting.

“I’ve been in my chamber, lonely.” you admit, looking back at Aegon.

“Well…I have missed you my girl, so much. It's so lonely…” he whispers the next part, “my bed… has been rather lonely.”

Aemond stands, everyone quickly glancing at him. He excuses himself from the table, with Aegon’s hand on you all you truly can do is watch.

“He’s upset” you mention.

“Ah yes. He’s been so moody since that business with the dragons. Don't know why though. They're all traitors. I’ll have all of their heads.” Aegon smells like alcohol, a smell you’re familiar with but still sensitive to.

“Aegon!” your mother’s voice rings. “I do wish you would not speak of such things with her, you know better.”

Alicent attempts to pull Aegon up from beside you, but he is quick to shove her away. You stand, shocked at the whole ordeal.

“I think I will head to bed.” you insist.

“I think that would be best, sweetling.” Alicent nods.

When you enter your chambers, you don't notice Aemond at first. He's facing the bookshelf, one your late father filled with stories of old and history. The one thing you both bonded over.

When you do notice him, it’s when you're half naked, pulling your sleeping slip on.

“Your skin is always so beautiful.” his voice startles you.

“Aemond!” you jump, clinging to your fur blanket, attempting to cover yourself.

“I've seen you already, have you forgotten me already?” you're not sure if he's as drunk as your other brother was, but his voice is calm and almost soothing.

“You should be in bed, the hour is late and I know you are upset.” you try to reason with him, knowing that when he is upset he is easiest to get to.

“But you always grant me so much comfort.” Aemond steps towards you, allowing his hand to cup your face, thumb lining your lips. “Do you remember the night I lost my eye. I was in so much pain. And you found me, alerted the guards to me. And that night, before we left, you let me in your bed for the first time. And we laid there together in peace.”

You watch his face as he talks, there's always been a certain amount of devotion you showed Aemond. That night you had found your cousins and him, screaming at the top of your lungs that alerted the guards to the situation. And he was not wrong. That night Aemond had been restless, in pain over his lost eye. Where your mother usually slept beside you, she had taken a leave of absence from your bed that night, allowing Aemond to replace her.

“You were always so sweet to me, where they laughed, you had always welcomed me. For dolls, for tea…for anything. So gentle. So kind.” Aemond sounds breathless, like he was praying.

“Aemond-”

“Shhhhh.” he licks your closed lips, causing you to gasp.

Aemond was always strict with the affection he gave you; always keeping his hands to himself, always to be careful that your mother did not catch a glimpse of how hungrily he would stare at you. But never this brazen. You did not know what to make of it.

“Please.” you beg. “We can't-”

“Can't what. You have no husband, and I have no wife. This is right. We were born to be together.” Aemond presses his forehead towards you. “Ever since that night I lost my eye, and you welcomed me so warmly into your bed I have wanted you since. Why won't you let me take you?”

“We can't…Aegon…he-”

Aemond’s face twists in anger, “Don't mention him! Do not speak of him!”

The outburst scares you, taking a step back and clutching your fur tighter.

“Drop it.” his face changes, as does his voice. His entire demeanor shifts. He unclips his cloak from his armor, letting the fabric fall to your chamber floor. “I said…drop it”

You drop the fur immediately, standing there almost bare for him. He looks over body, with a hungry gaze and a curious eye. Your slip was a thin silk, something your mother would die if she ever found you dressed in. But the sun had been hot as of late, and her nightgowns were too heavy. The several slips had been a gift of Aemond, now you had known why.

“I have waited years for you. Years for you to come to your senses of what I am to you. What you are to me. I am sick of waiting my sweet, I need you now. And I will have you now.” Aemond’s hands gently pull your slip down, allowing your naked body to be in full view for him. “You’re mine. You always have been. I just need to prove it to you."

[lcriedlastnight]

Y/n and Lando are arguing, y/n confesses her feelings in the heat of the moment, and Lando kisses her

thanks for your request anon! sending hugs and kisses.

tw: fem!reader, she's hella short, lmk if you want me to add anything.

w/c: 733

you cannot remember what you were fighting about anymore. what you do remember is that it started because some girl had hit on lando and you had gotten jealous. of course you were far too prideful to admit that the thought of lando with anyone else except you made you feel sick to your stomach, so instead you just gave him the silent treatment. was it wrong of you? for sure. did you feel bad? were you going to give in, admit you were in the wrong and apologise? fuck no.

"i don't get why you won't just tell me whats wrong! you always fucking do this! all i wanna do is help and y'make it extremely difficult!" lando yells. well it's a half yell half just talking extremely loudly at you. you frown as his voice raises in volume.

"there's nothing to tell you. i'm fine." you protest, arms crossed over chest as you stand in the middle of your shared kitchen. your standing still while lando is pacing around the place like a madman. you understand why but it does not make you any less jealous.

lando runs his hands through his hair with a deep sigh as he tries his best to calm down.

"look, if you aren't telling me because you think i'll be mad or get upset or whatever, i promise you i won't. i just wanna make you feel better, honey." his voice is significantly softer than before and his face seems less uptight too. the sight makes you happier because you were worried that you had gone too far with this whole thing. all you wanted was for lando to know that entertaining that girl had hurt your feelings but you could not find the confidence to do it. the driver watches as you hesistate.

"c'mon, love. you can tell me anything. you know that." lando utters, hands coming to run up and down your arms.

"i'm fine." is your reply. lando loses it, stomping away from you.

"fucking hell!" he shouts your name, frustrated.

"don't shout at me. you're the one not listening. i said i'm fine." you reply, feeling yourself rise up to match his level of frustration. lando scoffs at your words, clearly not believing them at all.

"yeah, sure and if i didn't ask you what was wrong then i wouldn't care about you or your feelings but if i do then i'm - what even am i doing wrong right now? how can i possibly be in the wrong right now when all i want to do is care about you and your feelings?" lando says exasperated. his hands coming to run through his hair again, making it ten times as messy.

"i just said that you're not listening to me and you've just proved my point! all i want is for you to listen to what i say!" you shout back at him, arms waving in the air.

lando stares at you and for a minute, for the first time in twenty minutes, the apartment is quiet. it is only seconds later that lando is striding towards you and smashing his lips onto yours. your immediate gasp helps him deepen the passionate kiss as his hand grips the back of your neck. you react as soon as his tongue touches your own. your own hands coming to grip at his shoulders. the kiss is sloppy and kind of pathetic until you pull away, panting for air.

"why," you breathe out, trying to catch your breath. "why did you do that?" you ask the brit, eyes staring into his own.

lando gives you that smile before replying "you told me to listen to you more and i thought i heard you say kiss me." he shrugs. you so badly want to roll your eyes at him but affection takes over your body instead as his cheesy grin makes butterflies flutter in your stomach.

"and next time, i would appreciate if you just told me that you were jealous instead of me trying to force it our of you." lando whispers in your ear, the feeling of his breath so close to your skin sending a wave of goosebumps down your arm. you scoff as you burrow your head into the crook of his neck as he laughs, the fight already forgotten about. seems like all you needed was a kiss or two.

[godjustkys]

SYNOPSIS: he thought you were dead.

CHARACTER: male reader x dean winchester

NOTE: oh this shit pathetic as fuck.. what is going on with me.

WC: 1,6k

WARNING: angst,, fluff at the end,, light hurt/comfort,, a lot of plot,,

grief.

dean hated grief. hated how it ate him up, how it made him bottle everything up until he exploded; either on sam or someone completely unrelated. they didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of the product of his grief. no one did.

and what made it worse? he was grieving you. you.

two thousand ninety eight days. or in other words, five years and two hundred seventy three days. he has been counting. every single day that passed since he lost you — since he had to scrape off whatever was left of you off of the walls and floor. it’s like a tab in the back of his mind, one that he so desperately wants to forget but just cannot. oh god how he loved you. he loved you with his entire soul. the day he lost you he felt like his heart shattered into a million pieces, and he swore to god that the anguish was tearing at each and every fiber of his being.

dean almost went mad the first couple weeks. constant nightmares, dreaming about your death over and over again, the inability to sleep, the loss of appetite, the numbness, fuck, it got to him. sometimes he’d just sit there, reminiscing, and he’d feel hot, salty tears rolling down his cheeks. of course, he’d wipe at them but they would just keep coming. he couldn’t stop them, not when the only thing on his mind was you. your face just before he witnessed your death. dare i say he blames himself. he knows it’s not his fault directly, but the fact that he just stood there and watched gnaws at whatever is left of his heavy heart.

of course, he turned to booze eventually. getting black out drunk, throwing up because he drank on an empty stomach, the horrible hangovers after; it was part of his daily routine for a while. but he toned it down because he realized that drinking didn’t erase you in any way, shape or form — you were engraved in his memory, in his heart. every time he opened his wallet he’d see your picture and he would get sick to his stomach. he had a goddamn hole in his soul in the shape of you.

every time dean woke up, he would stare at the ceiling for a while, just.. thinking. remembering. remembering how you would bring him breakfast and coffee. how you would ask him to rate his sleep on a scale of one to ten. how you would make him tell you about his dreams if he had any. how you would judge his bedhead. the little things.

the little things?

dean had nothing of yours. not a single thing. why? he got rid of everything that reminded him of you. yes, it might’ve been in a fit, but he was angry. angry at himself, at the world, at God. but not you, no. never. he wouldn’t dare blame you. that’s what he told himself for the entirety of those five years and two hundred seventy three days. up until now.

dean stared, he stared hard. he blinked excessively, hoping it’d make you disappear from his view, from this goddamn forsaken building; he was on a hunt. he convinced himself he was hallucinating, because it’s not the first time he’s seeing you after your death. his stomach churned and he clenched his fists, shifting on his feet. with a shaky, frustrated sigh, dean tilted his head. you looked different. too different. he doesn’t remember you looking like this. older, more.. experienced. beaten by life. wearing clothes he swore to god you never had.

“dean.”

this is where he stiffened. his eyes widened a fraction. your voice. oh good god he almost fell to his knees; he forgot how you sounded. hearing your voice again was making his heart beat out of his chest. “oh jeeesus. this is horrible. this is so bad. i’m going nuts, cuckoo even.” he said with a small chuckle, shifting again as he looked away from you. the real, actual you, who he thought to be a hallucination. a fragment of his imagination. when you took a step closer to him, he flinched, head snapping forward to look at you again. “oh ah-ah. i don’t like it when you move. creepy, gnarly fucker.” dean spoke with a grin, his hands shaking a tiny bit as he took a step back.

“i’m real.” you said, voice calm and even. your expression was one of concern — he could recognize it. he always had. dean laughed, the sound bitter and full of disbelief. “bull. shit.” he rasped, pulling out his gun and pointing it at you. “wanna see how real you are? prove it?” he asked with a nod of his head, quickly flicking the safety off and putting his finger on the trigger. his body language was making it clear how terrified he was, how unsure and hesitant his movements were. you raised your hands up in a placating manner. “..fuck. seriously. dean, i swear. i’m real. i’m alive.”

dean chewed at his bottom lip, eyebrows knitted together and stammering. “no. you died. i saw it.”

“i did. yeah, i felt it. but i came back.” you stopped for a moment, taking a deep breath in, and just before you could say another word, dean cut in, his face muscles twitching out of pure anger. resentment too, maybe?

“who brought you back? you workin’ with ‘em? for ‘em?” he questioned. “why are you back? why the fuck are you here? you- you didn’t think to find me? huh? are you—” dean broke off, his chest starting to hurt and heave, breaths coming out in short, ragged bursts. “you fuckin’ asshole.” he seethed, lowering his gun, it almost slipping out of his hold due to him being so damn distracted. “so- so you’re alive. and you didn’t find me, call me, text me, hell, even send a letter? none of that?” dean accused, swallowing harshly as he shifted on his feet, clearly nervous.

“you think it’s so simple—”

dean cut you off again. “yes, last time i checked, it didn’t require an iq of 180 to send a message or dial my goddamn number and click ‘call’. are you fucking dumb?” he holstered his gun, anger washing off of him in waves as he finally dared to step closer to you. “five years. five motherfucking years.” with a soft sigh, you let your posture relax. “i know. but i got back about three years ago. i had all kinds of monsters on my ass day and night, i couldn’t put you in danger—”

“you moron, that’s even more of a reason why you should’ve contacted me!” dean raised his voice and he tensed with restraint, his fist lifting up just a slight bit. oh he wanted to hit you so bad. you deserved it. “you knew how important you were to me, you knew i would stay with you through thick and thin. you knew that. you knew that because i told you so. what, you think i’m some sort of- frail guy you need to protect? you think i’m all wishy-washy over here?”

“no. never. but the position i’m in, dean, it’s complicated.” you reasoned. “i don’t need to protect you, but i care about you. and because i care, i don’t ever want to see you hurt in any way.”

“yea, yea just keep giving me the looney tunes bullshit. ‘i don’t want to see you hurt’,” he mocked you. “well too damn bad! we’re both hunters, we keep choosing this life over and over again and we can’t avoid it. you know what we could’ve avoided? you fucking lying to me.” dean seethed, his hands flailing around as he talked, voice stern, a little hurt but mostly angry. “i never lied.” you corrected him, narrowing your eyes. it did kind of offend you. “just because you didn’t know i was alive again it doesn’t mean i lied.”

“you didn’t do shit to let me know either! no effort from your side over here, genius. feels like the same exact fucking thing!” dean’s trembling hands were still clenched tightly. with a nod you huffed — you heard his reasoning, and his tone. “i’m sorry. i truly am. i misjudged you. you have a lot on your plate already, you carry a burden bigger than the goddamn world. i didn’t think you’d want to share my problems, too.”

oh. oh now how was he supposed to stay mad at you when you spoke like that?! call him weird, but emotional maturity was so attractive to him. dean’s shoulders dropped as the tension that was coiled in his body was released. he took a step forward, hesitant and very very unsure. but then, seeing your expression, he caved. he walked over and wrapped his arms around your shoulders, pulling you into a tight embrace. you returned the hug tentatively. as soon as dean felt your arms around him again, after five forsaken years, he tensed. his eyes widened a bit and they were getting.. watery? was he crying? no. no goddamn way. his hold on you tightened when your scent, the same one as half a decade prior, filled his nostrils. nostalgia was hitting him hard in every aspect. you let your forehead rest against his shoulder, one of dean’s hand moving to the back of your neck; was he getting too bold? “i’m sorry.” you mumbled out.

“fuck you. you owe me so many packs of beers. and burgers.” dean answered, voice shaky and a pitch higher as he blinked his tears away. finally holding you made his heart, body and soul feel at ease. he felt complete again.

he felt whole. but only when you were in his arms.

[toge1kiss]

Remember Me.

📢 | Fem!Reader, suffering a brain injury after a solo mission. Thus, resulting in her losing her memories. What happens to the first years after hearing she lost her memories?

Jjk first years x Fem!Reader ( can be seen platonic or romantic ) Reader is heavily implied quiet & very feminine!

A/N : Chat my reader is generally rly quiet bcs I cannot for the life of me properly right a cheerful & giddy reader without overthinking that they're being obnoxious..... I am so sorry!!! I will most probably be posting agn onnnn Monday because m tryna find a proper posting schedule instead of posting daily..

˚·˚ Kugisaki Nobara ｡˚

🎧 | Truth be told, she didn't know what to feel. She never felt another big loss like Saori or Fumi, but this was just cruel.

🎧 | She first heard it from Gojo-sensei, at first she thought that he was just fucking with her and it was some sick joke.

🎧 | Days passed, she never believed it. She won't believe it until she sees it. She won't trust anyone to be the bearer of news for this.

🎧 | Well that was until she actually visited you and you were just sitting there confused. "Who is she?" You'd ask while looking at Ijichi who brought her.

🎧 | "Are you fucking with me? You can't be serious..! yn.."

🎧 | Even though she's aware that she shouldn't be mad at you, she couldn't help but feel betrayed in a way. But also guilt. You asked if she wanted to come to the mission you're taking but she refused. Only because she didn't feel like it.

🎧 | She knew she wasn't at fault, she knew injuries were inevitable. But she can't help but feel she could've done something to prevent this from happening.

🎧 | Of course, she desperately tried to make you remember her, to remember what you both did together. She eventually just gave up and inevitably decided to just stick with you once again.

🎧 | But one things for sure, she won't ever leave your side again.

˚·˚ Itadori Yuji ｡˚

🎧 | This is another person who wouldn't know how to react, unlike Nobara, he isn't in denial.

🎧 | The poor boy was just.. confused and disturbed.

🎧 | What's worse is he was with you during the mission. It happened way too quickly for Yuji's liking. He just saw you lying on the ground with your scalp cracked.

🎧 | When Yuji saw you lying on that hospital bed, looking all terrified by everyone's faces even when you've already seen them.

🎧 | Gojo-sensei informed him about your loss of memory and he was speechless. Eyes that was used to meet his with comfort was replaced with discomfort.

🎧 | "please tell me you remember me." Yuji quietly pleaded as he took a hesitant step forward.

🎧 | "..am I supposed to remember you?" You replied back and instinctively inched back on the bed.

🎧 | The immense guilt just ate him alive, he saw and watched that Cursed Spirit thrashed your head so why couldn't he have stopped it? Or took the hit?

🎧 | It's like that time where Sukuna almost killed Megumi, but this was permanent. He couldn't look at you the same, especially with the knowledge of you because of him.

🎧 | Well he feels like it was his fault. Since then, he couldn't properly speak to you without feeling a sense of nostalgia. A bad sense of nostalgia.

˚·˚ Fushiguro Megumi ｡˚

🎧 | To him, it's like Tsumiki's state all over again. Except you were wide awake.

🎧 | Yes, you were awake. Yes, you were alive. Yes, were still in one piece. But you might as well be dead if you can't remember anything.

🎧 | Megumi visited you, numerous times, actually. In hopes of you actually remembering him again. Of course, in the end that's just false hope.

🎧 | Instead of feeling guilt, regret seeped through his pores.

🎧 | Could've he'd been a better friend to you? Protected you, possibly? Prevented the situation when you lost your memory? He regret it all.

🎧 | He didn't regret meeting you. Oh he's more than blessed to have you. He's just mad at himself for letting this happen to you.

🎧 | He already lost Tsumiki who was confined in a hospital room, now you? You, who lost all memory of him. Every experience with him, every conversation, all of them.

🎧 | "I'm sorry for being a shithead." "..what do you mean?" "Nothing."

CONCLUDED!

MASTERLIST!

[grapejuicestyless]

Just Because You Cannot Have Her.

Conrad Fisher x fem!reader

Summery: You’ve always been in love with the oldest Fisher. Having grown up to be his practical twin, it was almost impossible not to. When he makes it clear he likes someone else, you try to move on. And it almost works.(inspired by that one scene between Laurie and Amy in Little Women!)

Angst to fluff to angst to fluff again(it’s a lot.)

To me, he wasn’t only the sun. He was the moon and the stars. He was the smell of the fresh grass and the sound of the beach. He was all of my favorites things. And to him, I was his best friend.

Conrad and I grew up together. Our mothers all going to college. My mother rooming with Laurel and Susannah, creating the foundation of a new friendship. One that led us to Boston right beside her and the summer long vacations only I would attend during the hottest months as my moms work grew more demanding. Susannah lived next door to us my whole life. A pretty house on a more quiet road in Massachusetts. The houses mere feet apart. Windows reflecting each other.

Nights were spent the three of us each school year, playing in the garden with sticks as swords and watching cheesy movies before color had reached the big screen. Just me, Jeremiah and Conrad. All year long. All day long.

I still remember the day we figured it out, Conrad and I. How my window was directly facing his. Same floor, same height. How if we tried hard enough, we could communicate late at night and never be apart.

Jeremiah was an important part of our trio, but as they always say, there’s a duo in every trio. That was me and Conrad. It was obvious, the way we sat closer together. My head on his chest and his legs thrown over my lap. How by some force, no matter the scenario, it was always him and me against it. No matter Jeremiah’s efforts, it seemed that he could never quiet catch up. He wasn’t mad by it, he understood even then that what we had was special, but he also had a right to want that. To want that force that constantly seemed to keep Conrad and I intertwined.

And with the knowledge of that force and the closeness of it all, how could I not fall for the boy that was my best friend? My everything. Him with his blonde hair and boyish grin, eyes crinkling and shoulders hunched. He understood my jokes, even when they weren’t that good and yet, he laughed at each one. Because I was the one telling them. We flowed continuously, like a perfect line drawn on a piece of paper.

But I guess that force wasn’t as strong as I believed. Because while it had pulled me to him in every way a person can be pulled, Conrad seemed to have been left behind. Unaffected by it all. Able to fall for everyone else around him while I remained trained to him like a puppy eager to gain his affection.

Belly and Steven were an added part of our group. Each summer they’d travel down to the beach, stay just down the hall from us and enjoy the same games and closeness I was lucky enough to have all year.

Yet, with her youngness, in some way I still got everyone to myself. If it were to be a house party or a late night rendezvous, it was always the three of us and occasionally Steven.

Last summer was different. To me, to her. To everyone. Belly changed. Like the seasons or the tide, Belly lost her braces and ditched the glasses. Hair flowing behind her like a movie scene. A character straight from a love story. I always saw her as beautiful. Always believed she had the looks and personality to make any boy chase her, leaving a trail of drool behind. But now, everyone else could see it too. Conrad could see it too.

And that summer, he spent it stuck to her hip like glue. Leaving me colder and more alone than I’d ever been in my entire life.

I had been forgotten like nothing ever happened between us. Like we hadn’t come up with our own way of conversation through the windows. Like we hadn’t cried over the notebook or sat on the floor playing Barbie’s until our knees hurt and our back were sore. Like we didn’t know the ins and outs of each other. To be thrown to the side like a distraction felt like a punch to the gut. But the affection that Belly gained from Conrad while I lost everything was a bullet, killing me slowly while I bled all over Susannah’s white bed sheets.

Summer came and went. Slower than I wished. But that’s what happens when the world crumbles around you. Losing your best friend, and also the love of your life to the girl you’d happily consider a younger sister. Watching her get the attention I’d always wanted. His lips ghosting over hers and his hands tracing her hips like she was art. All while my hands held themselves and my lips were bitten raw.

The fall wasn’t much better. College was hard. So far away from home, and even farther from Jere and Conrad. I could count down the days until summer. I wouldn’t have Conrad, I accepted that. But I would always have Jeremiah. The boy who was always my younger self. My other best friend who stuck by me as he watched Conrad rip pieces of my heart out each day without any knowledge of what he was doing. He comforted me on the days that I seemed to be nothing more than a distant memory to Conrad. He sat with me both in person and on the phone for hours, catching up and doing the things I had only ever done with Conrad.

I went to NYU, much to everyone’s dismay. I’d sworn on Brown. Going somewhere with Conrad to stay together. Two peas in a pod. He’d looked disappointed at my decision, but he could’ve seen it coming. With him no longer wanting me, it felt wrong to follow him around. To stay stuck to another woman’s boyfriend, if that’s what you could call them.

Conrad and Belly were never exclusive. They never set clear boundaries of their relationship. They flirted and teased. Played around and fought, but they never stuck completely. Deep down, Belly had a crush brewing for Cam Cameron, and anyone who wasn’t an idiot could see the blush spread across her cheeks whenever Jeremiah walked into the room. Conrad, to him it felt like Belly was it. He had no other women around him. He stopped flirting freely at bonfires and rarely went out without her. He was more set on a true relationship. Knowing that is what hurt the most. So, I left. Not wanting to stay in a place I did not feel welcome.

Again, the seasons passed. Changing like the people within it. And finally, within the snow and the rain, I came home to a familiar neighborhood. My luggage in the trunk of an even more familiar red Jeep. The Fishers and I were reunited, almost fully. Susannah slept peacefully in the back seat, head leaned up against the window, pen laid dainty in between her slim fingers adorned with beautiful jewels. Jeremiah was driving, a new smile on his face as the summer sun shined down on us. Meanwhile, I sat passenger side, sock clad feet up on the dash and a pack of gummy worms on my lap, feeding a few to Jere every couple seconds. It was perfect. An atmosphere that was light and gentle. The only missing piece was my best friend in the whole world, Conrad Fisher.

He had decided to drive up by himself this year, having been away at Brown and getting the chance to head off early. It made perfect sense. But the idea that our annual car rides were no longer existing, ached. I had already lost him in the summer, I could accept that. But to lose him year round? It was a new pain I couldn’t even think about dealing with. So I took it as it was, a perfect excuse.

“You okay?” His voice was smooth, warm. I let my eyes flicker from the side mirror. My face turned to look at the tan skinned boy next to me.

Jeremiah was always beautiful. He had the bluest eyes I’d ever seen. One that reflected the clearest summer day I could wish for. Yet, in the lightness, they also held depth. Sparkling with impulse and enthusiasm. His smile was infectious. Bright white in a way you could only dream it to be in the movies. Something that no one would believe to be a true description until they saw it. He had curly hair that wasn’t quite brunette, but not light enough to be blonde.

I still remembered the day he ran to me crying. He’d always hated his curls. He longed to have the straighter hair that his older brother had. He always looked up to Conrad. In ways so extreme that he wanted to be just like him. Conrad had told him that his sandwich crust made his hair curly. It was funny until it wasn’t. I spent the whole day styling Jeremiah’s hair until it was sticky with hair product and styled in his own way of perfection. He looked almost humorous with his usually wild hair all done up, but handsome none the less. He had really grown into himself through the years, it was hard not to notice him.

The memory made me smile, only the sound of a far out car horn shaking me back to the present.

“Just really excited to be back. College kicked my ass.” My smile was tight lipped, but genuine. Jeremiah returned the look, sighing as he looked out to the road ahead, taking in the familiar scenery.

“Me too.” I caught his eyes quickly flick over to mine, a smile still spread on his cheeks. A blush on mine. He was one of my best friends. My younger self. I shouldn’t have been so flustered to have been caught admiring the boy, but for some reason the heat bubbled up in my stomach anyways. I needed air, a sharp intake of it getting stuck in my throat as I felt a warmth wrap around my hand.

His larger hand laid comfortably in mine, squeezing innocently and shaking it as if to symbolize excitement. Yet, in that moment, the innocent gesture felt more intimate than a pure platonic feeling. Again, the heat rose to my cheeks, and the butterflies made me feel uneasy. But I brushed it off as over tiredness.

When we pulled into the driveway, I noticed all the other cars already parked. We had been the last to arrive, another odd experience as we were always the first.

Quickly, the families raced out the door to greet us. Steven and Belly shoving off each other to race to Jere and I. Belly got to me first, her arms wrapping around my body so hard I stumbled back at her force.

“I’m so glad you’re here! I missed you!” Her words were muffled by my shoulder, head buried into my skin like I’d slip away if she didn’t hold on to me tight.

“I missed you more, Bells. I have no one to watch all these movies with me when I’m away.” I motioned to the bag I had stashed away in the back seat next to were Susannah was once sitting. Belly pulled away in excitement, head peaking over my shoulder to inspect the stack of old discs peaking out from the bag. Her attention back on me as she stepped away.

“Look at you, all grown up.” I held her face between my hands, eyes squinting to fully admire her beauty. She truly changed last summer, having lost her braces and glasses. But somehow, the girl managed to get even more stunning in the passing year, proving to everyone she wasn’t so little anymore. She brushed me off, scoffing playfully before motioning to me.

“Look at me? Look at you! College did wonders!” I shrugged off the complement, not really seeing any changes.

It was true though, I had grown in college. Always a late bloomer, my chest had gone up a size. My wild hair was more tamed and my lips reddened. I changed from that young graduate who was sworn into baggy college shirts and swimsuit bottoms into someone who didn’t truly mind tighter shirts with half sleeves or jean shorts that were slightly scandalous. I had grown into a more confident version of myself while away from the crutches of comfort back home.

Out of the corner of my eye I caught Conrad walking towards us, his eyes avoidant of Belly and glued to me, the first time I truly felt his gaze in almost a full year. He made a B-line to me, smile plastered across his face before Jeremiah intercepted his welcome. I couldn’t help but feel disappointed, even if I had convinced myself all feelings for him were in the past. That I could move on.

I felt Stevens arm loop around my shoulders, “Blah, blah, blah. Y/n, I think you’ve had enough time to catch up. You know what time it is?” She shared a look, my eyes catching Jeremiah’s, his looking to Conrad’s.

“Belly flop!” I was quick to declare, Belly’s eyes widening. She was quick to try to make an escape, but not quiet quick enough.

She ran right into Jeremiah. Him and Conrad restraining her arms while Steven and I latched onto her legs. We rushed over to the pool, excited to toss her in yet another year. She screamed and thrashed, only to be met with the fate of the bottom of the pool.

The water splashed onto our legs, her body submerging underneath. I let myself fall into Jeremiah with an excited laugh. His arms wrapped around my body almost protectively, head tilted down to look at me. It was inviting and all so warm. Summer had officially begun.

The beach house was lively and bustling with people running from room to room. Trying to complete each thing that needed to be done to fully enjoy the summer. Susannah and I seemed to be the only two in place. Even Laurel rushing around to help out.

The kitchens surface was layered in fruits and flour tossed around it. The evidence of the crime scene on our faces. Powder smears across cheeks and a red ring over lining my lips from what could’ve been cherry or strawberry juice.

Susannah had sworn that the dessert she had been planning to make would taste so much better from scratch. She was right, like always. Her baked goods always were, and the small cakes in all various shapes and sizes were just as delicious as promised. Now the only thing left to show was the plate filled with the fresh pastries and the mess to prove we really had made them.

We laughed about it, when stepping back to observe our damage, a hand going to her forehead. Both in humor for the situation and some stress.

“What exploded in here?” We turned on our heals to the voice, laced in shock and amusement. The matching expression belonging to the boy I couldn’t seem to escape all day. Jeremiah.

“We made pastries!” Even my best jazz hands couldn’t hide the fact that everything was everywhere. Not even my best smile could hide the small regret I felt for making it with Susannah.

Sometimes, I believed Jeremiah was a psychic. As I could’ve seen the stress on Susannah’s perfect face, it was like he could simply feel it. With one small flick of his hands, he nodded knowingly, always wanting to be a help.

“Mom, why don’t you relax. I’m sure Y/n and I can handle a little mess.” We exchanged a glance. I nodded frantically, wanting to help out Susannah in every way possible.

“Are you sure?” She sounded more relieved than anything.

“Yes, of course. Now go, watch a movie or read a book. Paint! Why don’t you paint!” I shooed her away, helping Jere get her to settle in for the day.

The room was silent as she left, her presence only known because of what she had left behind. I almost laughed at how messy a grown woman could be, but I wasn’t any better, so who was I to judge?

“You really know how to make an entrance.” Jeremiah mused, eyeing me up and down while lifting the trash can over to the edge of the island top.

“What can I say? I’m an artist.” Picking up some flour from the countertop, I tossed it on his face, holding my hands up in a picture motion, as if I was trying to get the right framing for my work.

“Perfect!” I joked, a playful smirk on Jeremiah’s face.

We were quick in cleaning the kitchen. All appliances already washed and put away as we used them. So all there was to do was to clean whatever didn’t make it into the pans and bowls. It looked just like new, shining like it had before our baking process.

Again, I stepped back to admire our work, only this time, Jeremiah admired it with me. Looking at each other, I felt sure we had done the best job that could’ve been done.

“I think we make a good team. Absolutely spotless.” Looking at me up and down, it became apparent again that even as clean as the kitchen was, I needed to change my shirt.

“Shit.” I pulled the bottom of the material out, inspecting the spots of dust that scattered all over it. Frowning, I flattened it back out, ready to mock myself for a joke.

Jeremiah’s face didn’t change though, still casting that same smile that seemed to always be lazily stretched across his features. His hand found my skin for the second time that day. Only it didn’t wrap around my fingers in an embrace. Instead, he lifted his hand to my face. Thumb pressed to my lips, he smeared away the bottom of my cherry-strawberry ring that was beginning to stain.

Again, the heat rose and I felt almost fluttery at the closeness of it all. The intimacy of his actions.

“I like the red lip thing, by the way. Suits you.” With that he pulled away, thumb brought up between his own and sucking off the juice gathered across the tip.

He walked away like nothing had happened, while I stood there, red in the face and stuck on what had just happened. The boy I had always turned away in hopes that Conrad would chase after me like I had to him, was openly flirting with me. And I didn’t mind it.

Maybe it was the fact that I was lonely without the burning love for Conrad to fill my heart, or maybe it was the new found bond we formed over the last year. Which ever it was, it was leading me straight to my best friends arms, whether I liked it or not.

The sun rose high above the horizon, casting an unbearable heat across Cousins. It was the beginning of July, officially today. Just a week after everyone had piled into their designated vehicles and arrived to their home away from home, the one place we could all be together constantly.

To say that the week had been weird would be an understatement. I had fully prepared to be ignored by Conrad all summer, my heart slowly closing itself off, finally healing from his sour attitude from the previous year and finding it in myself to move on. However, to my surprise, he didn’t. No, within the first twenty four hours, Conrad was banging on my door. Demanding we go early morning surfing. Something we hadn’t done in years.

Conrad first proposed the activity when we turned fourteen. Just old enough to go out unsupervised during the day. At first I had been skeptical, unsure of how great my surfing abilities were in comparison with Conrad’s. At how well I could get back above the water if I were to fall. But Conrad always had a way of convincing me otherwise. Like the angel and devil sat on my shoulder, he could sway me whichever way he wanted. It was a power only Conrad had ever held over me. Something that was not only endearing, but scary. Something I vowed to not allow anyone else to have over me.

It became a tradition for three years straight. Waking up early for at least half of the weekdays to either play around in the water or float for hours. Burning and getting more delirious by the hour. Sharing anything and everything with each other. Something I held close to me, in those years.

By eighteen, Conrad had turned moody, starting what could be summed up as last summer in a nutshell. His ignorance towards my feelings and his inability to care about the ones he did know about ending the tradition by mid July. I used to pray he would knock on my doors to go again, but the knock never came. And as any sensible person would, I stopped pretending like it was possible to happen again.

But maybe I had been wrong, seeing as Conrad was once again, knocking at my door.

The waves had been particularly calm that morning, barely rocking the boards up and down. We decided to just float along the waters that day, the air quiet and calm.

“I missed this.” His voice cut through the silence like a knife. I raised my head from the water, where my hands had been making shapes along the surface.

“So why’d you stop doing it?” The words came out harsher than intended. After all, I was enjoying our time together. I had missed him terribly. After all, while having a younger me around was soothing, having your other half was so much more fulfilling in some ways.

I guess it was the pent up frustrations I hadn’t known I had until that moment. The anger that was caused by the fact that Conrad had me. He had me in the palm of his hands and deep down he knew he did. He knew I would go wherever he went. The poor idiot unable to see his disinterest in me. He had walked out, and I had let him back in. Just like every fight ever, he would come back begging and I would crumble immediately.

I decided then I could be his friend, I always would. It was something that was irreversible. I would let him back into my heart as my best friend, but it ended there. I refused to let him back in romantically. Something that was strange to know. Something I never dreamed of happening.

Sure the feelings were still there, I believed they always would be, but I would no longer act on them. And hopefully I could learn to love another.

Conrad fell quiet again after that. Not knowing what to say. Anything, everything fell short.

“I’m sorry, Y/n/n. I’ve been such an asshole to you. I was just, scared of everything and not where I should’ve been last summer. I shouldn’t have taken out my issues on you. I shouldn’t have ignored you. If I could take it all back I would. I miss my other half.” It was genuine, each word out of his mouth. My heart beat faster with the idea that Conrad had phrased it, “other half” instead of, “best friend” because he held some sort of feelings for me. But my logical half shut that idea down as quick as it happened, and nothing came of it.

In the evening, I had been playing volleyball in the pool with Belly. Having been a retired varsity player, it was always fun to get competitive with her. Diving into the water and scraping our feet on the bottom of the pool. It was messy but fun.

With it being played just us for awhile, Belly jumped at the idea to have Jeremiah and Steven join us. The pair having walked outside unaware to the intense battle going on in their swim trunks, they were quickly recruited to our teams.

The usual teams were me and Steven, our competitive nature making us a powerhouse against the usual Belly and Jeremiah. Who were just as good but lacked the same fire. Without hesitation, they jumped into the water, calling dibs on their teams.

“Alright I call y/n!” Jere was quick, his sprint slowed to a hop in the waist deep water, arms wrapped around my frame in a tight hug.

Belly scoffed.

“What’s wrong with being on my team?” She demanded to know, her tone dripping with playfulness.

Jeremiah rolled his eyes.

“No offense, Bells. But I want to win for once.” She stuck her tongue out sourly, Steven shooting me daggers, ready to destroy us.

While Jeremiah’s excuse was reasonable, his lingering touches and constant banter with me made it more apparent he had other reasons to be on my team. The way his hands held onto the ball just a moment longer when handing the ball to me to serve over the net, just to brush against my fingers or the way his body was never too far from mine. It was all so flirtatious, the familiar fluttery feeling returning.

In the end, we had won, much to Stevens dismay. It was a close game, but ultimately he had lost control of the ball, causing a hard loss for Belly. The pair fought innocently while we relished in our newly earned bragging rights. Jeremiah’s arms wrapped around me again, only to lift me from the water and spin us around to celebrate. All the new closeness was unusual, but for some reason, again I found myself unable to push it away. And the more he did it, the more I wanted him to keep flirting with me.

Maybe it was the attention, something I had always wanted, or maybe it was something new blossoming between us. But it was good and it was sweet. Something I hadn’t known before.

By the end of the week it seemed my days were split into fractions. My mornings taken up my Conrad, our bodies laid along the beach and our cheeks red with the sun. Muffins runs long and hilarious each time we drove off to collect a batch together. Conrad insisting Steven wouldn’t mind if he ate the last blueberry one and being wrong each time, resulting in the scramble to get more. In the afternoons I found myself devoted to Jeremiah. All his activities he wanted to do, he had somehow managed to rope me into doing with him. Whether it be running or swimming. Painting or just talking, I was there beside him. My eyes stuck to his like glue. And by the time night fell, I would be happily tucked under a blanket, Susannah and Laurel on one side and Belly squishing against my other as we watched the sappiest movies we could find and played the longest board games in the closet. Summer felt like summer again, and my heart was finally mending.

In my healing, it was like I had lost sight of the cause of the heartbreak. My head too stuck in the clouds that was the regaining of Conrad’s company and Jeremiah’s unrelenting interest in me to remember why the healing was necessary.

It seemed to have been over, this summer. The way Conrad avoided her more than usual. The way that the only times they were really together was when we were all in each other’s presence. But I would never really know as I am not them.

It was stupid to get so upset so late into the summer. Over something I should’ve seen coming. Something that had already came, just wasn’t as apparent. The moon was high and the moms were already settled in for the movie night. The blanket pulled up to their chins and popcorn buttery and still steaming.

Laurel had asked if I could go find Belly, not wanting to start without the person who adored these nights the most. Without thinking, I agreed. Why wouldn’t I? She was my little sister, in some ways. Someone who I refused to do the tradition without.

But god, I wish I hadn’t. I could’ve spared myself the heartbreak.

Conrad had Belly in his arms. Holding her loosely, letting her drift off without a care. All while his lips were on top of hers. Pressing into them with such force, such desire it made me sick. I had sworn to not let him back into my heart in that way, and I hadn’t. But the old feeling would always be there, and it would hurt each time he broke my heart like it was the first.

I wasn’t interested in the movie anymore. Yelling out some lazy excuse as to why I was going off to the beach to watch the stars instead of the movie. The mothers not giving it a second thought.

It was a mess, both mentally and physically. My brain scrambled in my emotions and my room reflecting it. My bathing suit was still damp, fitting perfect across my body even in the slight discomfort it gave me. The shirt I threw on over it wasn’t my own. The words, “Boston MA” spread across the chest. It hung at my thighs and it smelled fresh.

In moments like this I used to purposefully put on Conrad’s shirts I’d stolen over the years. The lingering scent of his cologne and the memories we held of him wearing them comforting enough. But in this moment, I wanted nothing more than to be as far away from his as possible.

I’m not sure who’s sandals I stole at the door were, but I hoped they didn’t need them anytime soon. Because I didn’t plan on coming back until the house was quiet and asleep.

The beach was my sanctuary. Peaceful, stranded at an hour like this. In any other place it would’ve been almost eerie, but I felt safe in Cousins. I knew nothing could hurt me here, and that in itself gave me peace.

The stars were brighter than usual tonight, sparkling on the surface of the very water I had laid across just hours before with Conrad. Confessing each dirty secret from college and laughing about our past. It felt more lonely now, then ever.

Even when Conrad and I were drifted, I felt more together than now. The wound reopened and bleeding.

The sand shuffled beside me, but my head was set on looking up. Unmoving.

“The stars are gorgeous tonight, huh?” The question was meant to be left unanswered. Only an attempt to get me to see that he was there, beside me now so I wouldn’t become startled by his presence later on. Still, I nodded. Eyes peeling from the sky to his.

They were just as bright and lively. Just as beautiful.

“Why’d you follow me? You my stalker now?” I tried to be funny, tried to joke. But my mouth was stuck in that almost permanent frown. I should’ve known he could sense my sensitivity, he always could. That’s probably what had drawn him out here in the first place. Always so attentive.

Still, to pity me, he laughed. It was quiet but it was there. Enough to make the corner of my mouth twitch upward. We fell into another silence. My eyes glossy.

“What’s going on in that mind of yours, y/n/n. Tell me.” His hand reached out to push at my shoulder, gaining my attention again, pulling it away from the sky.

I blinked away the tears, swallowing the lump in my throat. I shrugged.

“Honestly, I’m not really sure.” Closing my mouth, I licked along the top line of my teeth. Sucking in my lips, I let them pop to take in a sharp breath. All while Jeremiah sat there patiently, ready to listen. Always there.

“I guess it’s just, everything. I mean-“ I looked for the right words to say, not wanting to stumble or say something I didn’t mean.

“I feel like I’m just being overly emotional. Everyone’s trying so hard to mend relationships and I feel like I keep finding reasons to run away again. I mean, I’ve been horrible to Conrad the past year. And for what? Because I couldn’t control myself? I haven’t seen Steven in awhile and I don’t even know how Laurel is holding up. I’ve just…I don’t know why I feel like this.” Everything was building into a massive guilt, my head facing the ground. Ashamed at my own feelings. Jeremiah didn’t judge, he didn’t push for more. He let me say what I needed to say, and he supported it. He was good to me.

“Hey, hey.” He was quick, seeing how I was breaking down rapidly. Under the stress of now not only the heartbreak I was suffering, but the guilt that came with the buried desire for Conrad to leave her to be with me. It snowballed into one big vomit of grief that wasn’t discovered until that moment.

“I’m sorry.” I wiped my eyes, breathing into a weak chuckle. I tried to lighten the whole situation, knowing that he was already dealing with so much. I felt worse putting it onto his shoulders. I couldn’t. So I avoided it. Changed the subject.

“Shit, Jere. I shouldn’t have brought you into it.” I looked at him, his eyes already trained on mine, his eyebrows knit together.

“Don’t be. I’ll always be there for you, Y/n. Promise.” His hands found mine in the dark, the sand getting stuck between the creases on our palms. They laid intertwined in the sand. The third time it had happened this summer. Somehow, even at my worst, he always found a way to break down the walls I was putting up.

My eyes flickered to his lips for only a moment, but the look on his face told me he was thinking about it too and the tension was palpable. Too lost in thought to lean in, Jeremiah closed the gap.

His lips slotted against mine perfectly. Molding together like they were one, pressing together hard. It was slow, but lustful. The knowledge that we both wanted more behind it, but the accompanying knowledge that it wouldn’t go beyond that kiss tonight was also there, creating a sort of comfort in the feeling.

Hands were soon tangled in each others hair, his curls ruined and messy from my constant tugging and messing with them. Groans escaping his mouth every so often when a tug was harder than usual. His hands finding the back of my neck to hold me close, our breathing heavy and the heat unbearable as it radiated between us. Everything was lustful and needy, slow and hot. Neither of us in a rush to end what was happening, everything feeling overwhelmingly good.

When we finally did pull away it was with a pop, lips swollen and reddened from a mixture of irritation and the small marks Jere had left littered across the bottom of mine with his tugging and gentle nips every so often. Eyes were heavy with desire and bodies unwilling to let go. It was like everything fell into place, like everything made sense. With Jeremiah so close, someone who cared for me, someone who constantly showed up, the heartache was almost nonexistent, and it felt like I was being pulled in a new direction. One that led me straight into the arms of the younger Fisher.

The kiss between Jeremiah and I should’ve stayed at that, a kiss. Realistically, I shouldn’t have done it at all. Knowing that even if I tried to stop it or refused to acknowledge it, my heart would always beat for Conrad. No matter how much of an asshole he had been to me. And that was the sad part, because his brother was so much kinder and better to me these past few years.

Maybe that’s why I agreed when it kept going. Why I allowed us to keep progressing into something more. Because even if my heart belonged to Conrad, Jeremiah was better for me, right? Why trade something that’s good for something that’s right?

That summer became last year, June coming up around the corner and still, physically I was Jeremiah’s.

Over our year together I had grown to love his curls, or the way he was so quick to visit me the second my voice faltered, despite his own troubles. How we had shared clothes and his touch was enough to send butterflies through my veins.

He was everything, someone I could grow to love as much as I did for Conrad. Someone that I could rely on. Someone who made my heart beat just a little bit faster.

If I had claimed that last summer was off, this one was tripled that.

What had started off semi normal in June, Conrad’s closeness in a strict platonic sense and Jeremiah’s closeness in a way that could be no where near a platonic level became more and more confusing as the weeks passed.

For the past two years of my life, I believed that one day the news would break that Conrad and Belly had finally found their place. Their title, their boundaries and make it exclusive. I believed that in her arriving with a new found beauty, I had lost the battle for him. I had come second to Belly in his eyes and would continue to forever if it meant he could be with her. But that never happened. The day never came.

And soon the lines became even more blurred. Conrad’s touches growing longer and closer. My body being pressed to his more often than not. His lips by my ear to whisper some secret, some dirty some innocent. His eyes staring just a second too long. It was almost flirtatious. But the minute Belly walked into the room, I was reminded that we could never be. And we would never be.

It wasn’t until the middle of August that I knew why the lines had seemingly disappeared. Belly and Conrad had stopped their messy make outs, both not getting what the other wanted, even if it had seemed like the pair was so enthralled by each other. And she had moved onto the boy she had been chasing for years. Cam Cameron. The boy who adored whales and had a heart of gold. His hair curlier than Jeres and eyes deeper than Conrad’s. It seemed that to her, she had finally found the person she needed around. And Conrad? He had nothing. Not even the girl he called his best friend to chase after him anymore. For she was with his brother now.

Still, the flirting was relentless. My mornings spent dedicated to Conrad, holding his hand as we attempted not to drift too far out in the calmness of the early ocean. His laugh warm and inviting. Something that reminded me why I enjoyed him so much. Even in his darkest moments, the ones where I was left to feel alone, he was always there to help me back up in the end. Mending his losses and fixing what was broke. He understood his issues, finding his own responsibility in situations that weren’t only his own cause. He was kind, he cared. He didn’t show it like Jeremiah did, but he had so much of it, it was just harder to see. He did everything for everyone.

My nights were for his brother. Jeremiah and I sprawled out on the grass, pointing at the stars, laughing about the stupidest things. I think back on why I like him so much. How easy it is to just be with him. How he never fights or lies or hurts. He’s there and accepts his faults, much like his brother. He is not ashamed like his brother. Not ashamed of his faults, he carries less guilt about the past, only worried about what he can do to fix it and continue on. And it is all so confusing because it feels impossible to long for two people at once. It feels selfish but it’s almost exactly what I want in that moment.

So the routine became something that I stuck to. Hiding away with Conrad in the sunlight to do our favorite things and holding onto Jeremiah throughout the night. The bed full, warm.

Somewhere in this thread, there was a bump. A miscommunication that led to Jeremiah wandering off to a party without me. One that I didn’t mind as it gave me a chance to clear my mind. Catch my breath on the situation. To do it in the one place I knew.

The concrete beneath my feet turned to sand, the softened surface relaxing as I tread across it. In the darkness I almost miss the hunched over figure in my spot. Red hoodie and messy hair unmissable. Easily identifiable even from the back, even with only an outline. An outline I had grown to recognize as Conrad’s.

I should’ve felt disappointed at the fact I wasn’t alone like I had planned to be, but I wasn’t. The idea that I would be with the one person I trusted more than life for a few hours wasn’t unsettling at all. It made it all more peaceful.

My legs folded underneath me, legs stretching out in front of me, I leaned back on my hands.

Looking up at Conrad I almost got a sort of deja vu from a similar conversation I was having just short of a year ago.

“What brings you down here this late?” I drew shapes in the sand, eyes drawn to his. He looked up to the sky, then back to me.

“I could ask you the same.” I smiled, only after realizing he had cracked one of his own.

“Clearing my mind.” I breathed out, relaxed fully next to him. I allowed myself to look at the stars with him.

“What are you think about?” I could hear his smile, something that made me feel warm. Something that made me want to express how I felt for him finally, but also urged me to put my strongest walls up.

The waves crashed against the shore and the crickets filled the silence. My teeth caught between my lip and my heart besting out of my chest, I felt dizzy in confusion. Where my heart lied.

“I think I might tell Jeremiah I love him.” I almost whispered it, like I was unsure.

The thought hadn’t crossed my mind before. I always knew my heart held something for Jeremiah. I always liked him. But not once did the idea of confessing my love for him cross my mind. Maybe it was because Conrad was close. He always had a way to make me confess my truest feelings. Maybe it was that, him helping me realize what I felt for his younger brother. Yet, in the back of my mind I couldn’t help but feel that the idea only came to mind in spite of Conrad, who had pushed me aside so many months ago. Who was now longing for my attention. And that alone made me feel sick. Sick that I would play with someone I adored so much at the expense of another, just to retaliate against old issues.

I expected a fake support from him. At least some sort of statement to encourage me to go for it. Something that I could try to believe was real and finally be able to let go of my twisted crush for him. One that I had held since I knew what love could be.

But his face fell flat, eyes looking almost coldly into the sky. His voice was dryer now, serious with each word he spoke.

“Don’t tell him.” I froze, confused but also bubbling with a mixture of frustration and sadness at his carelessness with such a heavy statement.

“What?” I tried to search his unmoving eyes.

“Don’t tell him.” He repeated, looking to me now.

“Why?” Looking at him, I saw the sun and the stars and moon, all lighting up the night sky. I saw the world in a way that made me want to put it in the palm of his hands. I saw something I’d never seen in his eyes before. A look I was only familiar with because it was a reflection of my own.

“Why?” He repeated me again, “You know why.”

My heart dropped. I had dreamt of this moment for years. Conrad running to me, asking me to take his hand. To be with him, but now, it felt almost sickening. Cruel for him to be doing this to me. Now, he had to do it. After his life fell apart and just as mine was coming together he had to do it.

I used my hands to slowly get up, Conrad mirroring my movements.

“No…no.” I repeated, trying to make my answer any more true.

“Yes.” His hand reached out to touch my cheek, but my hand was quick to push it away.

“No, Conrad.” I backed away more, letting him inch closer.

“What?” He asked, acting clueless to how he was ripping me apart all over again.

“You’re being mean, stop it. Stop it.”

“What? How am I being mean?” He almost sound amused at it, at how distressed I felt. All I could do was try to hold myself together for just a little longer.

“I have been second to Belly these past few years in everything. And I will not be the person you settle for just because you cannot have her.” My words held more truth than anything I had ever said in my life. The honest truth of how I felt these past few years, even if he never saw it.

“I won’t-I won’t do it.” I shook my head, his face broken and his eyebrows drawn together.

I wiped my brow, turning away briefly while my lip trembled. Slowly crumbling under the bubbling hot emotion coming up my throat, expanding into a lump.

“I won’t-not when I have spent my entire life loving you.” I wanted to point, stick my finger right in his chest but my hands were glued to my sides, unwilling to touch him. With his silence as my returning answer, I took the chance to turn on the balls of my feet, walking off to the house in a new kind of distress than before.

I prayed that Jeremiah was still away, that I wouldn’t have to face him so soon but my prayers were left unanswered, a familiar frame sat over the kitchen island. His eyes drawn to his phone.

He smiled up at me as soon as he noticed I was in the room, everything about him so innocent and kind. Something I could never take advantage of. Something I could deprive someone else more deserving of it from.

His sweet smile soon turned into a mixed expression of pain and confusion. His feet carrying him across the room to me. I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t help but to put my arms out in front of me to create a distance. To relay it to him even when my mouth wouldn’t work that I could not be in his touch right now.

I shook my head before he could even speak, eyes opening, covered in a heavy gloss.

“What’s wrong?” He was almost frantic in the way he said it, wanting to provide comfort without knowing how.

“I-I can’t. I can’t do this, Jere. I can’t do this.” I kept repeating it like it would get any clearer.

“I can’t love you. And it physically hurts me to say it out loud because, because I should. You’re everything I could ever want but I just can’t and I don’t know why. And it’s wrong, and I’m sorry but I can’t keep doing this.” His face almost drained, attempting to salvage what I was so quick to let go of. But it all made sense.

It was foolish for him to believe that he could make me love him, when my heart so obviously still beat for Conrad. So he let me go just as he always does, without a fight. Letting there be peace in our divide.

The next few nights were unforgiving. The sheets a mess and my eyes tired. I couldn’t sleep knowing I had ruined everything in my eyes. What was something good I had to go and end because of my inability to let him go. Something I am unsure I will ever be able to do. Not when I’ve spent so much time bending to fit him.

Soon, summer would be over officially, even if to me it had ended that night. It was the last morning of August, the last day spent down in Cousins before we’d all pack our things into the car and count down the days until next June.

The sun had barely risen above the horizon when I woke. A familiar pattern. Not being able to sleep more than a few hours, the mess of everything keeping me awake.

It was mornings like these I wandered down to the beach, sitting myself in the same spot I had the night everything crashed down. It was all too peaceful for what had happened here, the only place I truly felt secure now. I couldn’t help but cry, looking out. Remembering everything that had happened, kissing those who were just a few feet away.

“Y/n!” His voice called out to me, like he knew I had woken up. He knew where I would be. And it was sweet but sickening.

“Why did you do it?” My voice broke, the question left unanswered. I heard his footsteps stop.

“Why now did you have to tell me? Why is it when I’m finally picking myself up you had to fuck with me. Why?” I all but sobbed, tears streaming freely.

Over my sniffles and pleas, I missed the sound of him moving again, his body finding a home in the sand next to mine. His voice quiet. He thought about it, hard. Trying to form some sort of confession that could sum up what he felt.

“Because if you said it, that meant he won. I would have finally lost you.” He looked at me truthfully, eye own eyes squinting in confusion, heart still aching.

“What?” I breathed out.

“I have spent every waking minute of my life so fucking in love with you, it physically hurt me to not be able to confess it. I was always too scared, seeing how perfect you looked with everyone else. I felt like I was dragging you down. Like I wasn’t enough. So, I found comfort in other people. People who were okay with me using them to forget. Because forgetting is better than living with the fact that my brother was with the only person I have ever loved.” My eyes searched his, his eyes glossy just like mine. His voice breaking and desperate. Wanting me, needing me to believe him.

“I love you too.” The smallest smile broke out across his face, one of relief and comfort in my words. I could sense the hesitation in his actions, and just as Jeremiah had to me, I closed the gap between us. Allowing my lips to press against his with desperation yet so much love. A kiss that had been coming for years. Building without either of us aware of its existence. It wasn’t long and lustful like Jere’s was. It was sweet and short. Just long enough to get across its impact. Just enough to take our breathes away.

His forehead rested on mine, his hands on mine and his eyes looking into mine. Breathing me in, letting us just be close for a moment, letting us just be there. Existing. And it was all so calming.

I always imagined this summer ending with Jeremiah and I celebrating our one year. His arms wrapped around me as we parted ways. I never could have imagined myself on the same beach it all started, the lips against mine not his, but his brothers. An old love becoming a new love. The beginning.

[bengiyo]

Old QL Game

Rules: Think about the oldest BLs you've ever watched. They have to have been released prior to 2020. Now name 5 - 10 iconic scenes that you cannot forget.

Tagged by @negrowhat and the OG post is by @brazilian-whalien52

This is actually kinda hard for me, since I probably would associate "old" with yaoi anime more than live-action BL. It's also hard because some of the older shows I love I only actually watched recently. I'll start with the things I watched in era.

SOTUS (2016)

This is the show that got me into the modern era of BL. I don't think I can find the exact moment in a gif right now, but there is a moment where Arthit accidentally slams Kongpob's arm in a door. I remember this moment because we ended an episode on it as a cliffhanger, and my American media sensibilities suspected that we would avoid addressing the core conflict. Instead, they talked about the issue immediately. This was surprising, and it kept me curious about Asian media for years.

Make It Right (2016)

I love this flawed show so much. I always see this show as an exploration of what was possible for boys, especially for Yok. The scene that I often recall first is Frame taking Book to a clinic after they had too-rough sex. I thought this was revolutionary at the time, and very much needed.

Together With Me (2017)

Plern Pleng, you will always be hated. You don't get a character as beloved as Yihwa without somehow as loathsome as Plern Pleng. No BL female villain has been as consistently unhinged as her. We don't get Yihwa's epic takedown otherwise. Yihwa still best girl.

Happy Together (2015)

Is this BL? No. Am I using this game to talk about it? I sure am! This rarely-mentioned drama from Taiwan features an established gay couple struggling with their relationship in a roommates drama. There's about three major plotlines in this one about adult relationship trouble, and I loved how honest Alex and Benny's problems felt.

What Did You Eat Yesterday? (2019)

It's pre-2020! Did you think I would NOT mention them?? This show had me from episode 1 because Shiro and Kenji had the kinds of problems long-term closeted couples have. I was completely taken with Kenji's response to Shiro's valid frustration about being outed with some variation of, "Why does everyone get to talk about their loved ones but me?" Their ongoing journey together is one of my favorite active stories in the world.

Until We Meet Again (2019)

I always think about Intouch's sister crying to Pharm not to hurt himself like her brother did. On a happier note, I think about a character as severe as Dean being so clear and forthright with Pharm about his attraction. What a great choice for this drama to have the spirit of Korn pursue the spirit of Intouch so overtly. This show earned my time with the way it balanced the past and present, despite the usual New Siwaj indulgences.

His: I Didn't Mean To Fall In Love

I saw this before the film, and it left me especially devastated by Nagisa being the one to leave Shun when he was the one who pursued Shun! Every time I think about this show I think about the story Nagisa tells Shun as a way of testing the waters. We need our gay stories to find each other.

Love By Chance (2018)

I still laugh about Pete being mad at Ae for not initiating sex and trying to give him a bunch of heavy food when Pete definitely thought they were scheduling their first time. "I cleaned it for you." Thank you, Saint.

History 2: Crossing the Line (2018)

Hsia Yu Hao having the horniest dreams in BL at the time was such a moment. Fandy Fan's "fuck me" eyes will always be famous.

History 3: Trapped (2019)

FREE TANG YI! There are so many excellent moments in this show, but today I am still thinking about Tang Yi kissing Shao Fei's wound to express the sincerity of his thanks for saving his sister.

Oh shit that's 10. I think I'm out of time. I think I'll tag... @benkaben @twig-tea @shortpplfedup @telomeke and @ctl-yuejie

[vumming]

alice in borderland — suguru niragi “eye candy”

contents : suggestive themes, smut

a/n : a small crumb while i am busy with life smh

“Stop looking at me like that.”

There's a frown plastered on his face, eyebrows scrunched as if he's looking at something absolutely disgusting yet the slight upward tug of his lips tells you otherwise.

“Like what?” You asked him, confused as to why he's looking at you the way he is.

Cuddling on the sofa of your apartment—a temporary home in this madness you call borderland, your limbs in a mess of tangle with his as you're sprawled atop of his body, his arm around you and the other behind his head.

Niragi was a constant wild child but moments like this makes you remember that even someone as wild as him needs normalcy in his life too—that at the end of the day, he is a human too.

His arm tightens around your figure for a brief moment before relaxing, the flex of his arm seems unintentional. “Acting like you don't know? Tsk.”

“I wouldn't know unless you tell me, Niragi.” It was amusing to watch his frown transform into a scowl, the evident shade of red, no matter how small, bright on his ears as he glare at you.

It is quite adorable, ever so tough and cocky bastard, Suguru Niragi who crawls from death every damn time is flustered underneath you. His bandages cannot even hide it.

Instead of responding right away though, his arm that was behind his head shifted to reach over your face, settling on your jaw as his stare is on level with yours—eyes steel and cold softening until his lips curved into a damn small grin.

“Like this.”

Rugged, rough, and dangerous is what everyone who would see him describes him.

Yet the way he places his kiss on your lips is tender, soft and gentle like he's afraid to taint you but his hand that's gripping your jaw is firm and commanding, telling you to stay still.

What was the look you were showing him? You could've asked and persisted but he swallows your every breath, the parting of your lips merely serving him an opportunity to kiss you further, deeper, more.

The arm that's around your body draws small scratches of patterns and shapes, a slow dance and kiss as he attempts to close the 'non existent' space between the two of you with the proximity you already share.

Hips slowly gyrating against yours in a slow motion, not to get you off, but to simply feel you and your warmth.

For someone as lust driven and hungry as he is, just being with you was enough.

“Shit, you're so..” He couldn't finish his words, no, with how your taste left him speechless and the way your eyes flutter like a butterfly kissing your lids slightly open to look at him as he parts from your lips got him fixated on you.

You drive him mad.

And he's already insane enough.

He dives right back in when he felt you take a breath, the sweet sweet air you breathe in being taken right away, teeth grazing your lower lip, biting it to ask for your permission yet never waiting enough before he pushes his way through.

Every curve, every nook, he explored it like he's an adventurer on a quest—call him one because you are his world he is willing yo conquer.

Suguru Niragi is both rough yet gentle, tough yet soft, it is only you who get to see his vulnerability. “It seems last night wasn't enough for ya', pretty?” He murmurs through the kiss, sending vibrations through mouth as a small chuckle escapes his lips, once again capturing yours.

“I'll make sure you won't look at anyone the same damn way you're looking at me now.” It wasn't just a mere statement, but his tone sends a promise.

If it was merely an innocent kiss before, now wasn't.

It's aching, the core tht burns inside you as he pushes you into the pillow. The soft velvety pillows muffling the noises that you fail to contain with how he is moving. “Oh.. mhm, Niragi.. ”

It's like you're in a trance that you can't break.

Your wrist bound behind your back as Niragi uses it to his advantage, moving faster as he holds onto you. “Ya' like that, darlin'?” He drawls next to your ear when he leans, pressing a small chaste kiss on your shoulder, it was sweet, loving—

Until it switches back to him absolutely ravaging you like a madman.

“mhmm.. hah, y-yeahh..”

His hips repeatedly hitting yours, abusing the spot that he knows will make you see stars, knowing every damn well of your body.

The curve of your back, arched beautifully and every noise that breaks from your throat gets him going. Your legs are shaking from the intensity yet always lifted for him to take.

Niragi let's go of your wrist to take a hold of your neck, wishing to see your expression, “now why are ya' holdin' back your moans?”

The squelch squelch squelch is a repetitive melody to the room, hand twisting your neck so he can see what look you are making.

“There you are..” You could hear the smirk from his tone, lilt and amused upon seeing your face. Almost mockingly teasing until his lips finds the side of your mouth, “no one is here but us, scream all you want.”

“Wanna hear my name from your lips.”

Fast, deep, rough, then turning slow—after a thrust, his body gyrates and you can't help but follow after his. The stimulation is addictive. “Hah... Fuck, it feels damn good.”

His hand traces your body, fingers following the curve of your spine and to your ass where he palms the globe of it, feeling every inch of you and watching how his dick goes in and out of you.

The length of him pushing into you until your body flinches at the heat of the passion, squirming against him. Both trying to get away and push into him, asking for more, you don't know.

Maybe it was due to the heat of the moment that there's droplets kissing your skin, his sweat from the lovemaking—from how he's fucking you full, but something tells you that it's so much more. Your eyes, barely open and conscious glances at him briefly, until you couldn't with how he makes you close it by hitting the spot that brings you to heaven and back.

“Wanna see you look at me, like- hah.. like how you did earlier.”

“H-how exactly?” You still ask, small little droplets continues to touch your bare skin—tears of his love, vulnerability..

“Like I'm yours.”

Trust.

[infini-tree]

episodic - part 4

< back | next >

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Summary: Everyone doubles down.

A/N: alternative chapter summary: Melvin Has A Normal Day.

once again thank you art of book for listing all the faculty names and subjects. 

on that note: Melvin's characterization. since this au is primarily based on movie continuity, in the end i decided to defer to its lead. which makes things difficult, as most of his inventions were all pretty lowkey (and the turbo toilet had been further augmented by a third party), and some future plots hinge on his more OP inventions. scene 2 is meant to bridge the character gap between all his incarnations, and also narratively sets some stuff up for this AU. i did say he's a core secondary,

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

With the final bell rung, Benjamin made quick work of packing his suitcase. Considering how fast the kids ran out of the school, the halls should be quiet now. The last thing he needed was noise and talking. And so, he stepped out into a reception room filled with faculty. 

Not just talking– yelling. At him.

He glanced over to Anthrope, who should have shooed them all away. Her now-empty seat was still swivelling. 

“Of course,” he grumbled.

“Whadd'ya mean 'of course'?” Rected griped.

“We’re up to our eyelids in marking these brats’ worksheets!” Ribble waved a stack of papers at his face– all from the impromptu beach day, if he read the date right. “And you expect us to mark an entire grade’s worth of volcano projects?!”

“Clearly it's not just the students that need to apply themselves.” 

The rest of the teachers froze.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” He narrowed his eyes, his tone still as clipped from the announcements. “Aren’t you the one always complaining about their marks?”

“Well, yes, but–”

“But nothing, you're the one who insisted on teaching three subjects.” He moved on to other teachers. “Meaner, you’re only doing the running tests– I don’t see why you’re complaining. The most you have to do is make sure they don’t trip over their own shoelaces.”

“The papers–”

“Because its so hard keeping track of when kids stop running.” He turned to Guided. “And you– all the tests are based on stuff your class should have covered by now.”

Guided grumbled something about how the topics were from the start of the semester, no one remembers that.

“Dayken–” Said teacher jolted up from the back. “What are you even doing here? You're a kindergarten teacher.”

“I wanted to feel included--”

“In any case, all I’m hearing–” He pointed an accusatory finger at all of them. “Is that all of you are mad that you need to actually do your job.”

“Excuse you?!” Ribble shot back. No other teachers spoke up.

“Yeah, that’s what I’m trying to do before you barged in here.” He pointed at Rected and Ribble. “You have until the end of the week to make it work.”

He could feel something tighten in his chest flare as he saw the teachers back off. It wasn’t relief, but it was a near thing. At least he wasn’t on the back foot. 

“Dismissed.” The tone broached no argument.

The impromptu staff meeting ended– not with a bang, but a whimper. More accurately, it was a grumble of swears that cannot be recounted in a fanwork made for general audiences. He watched all the teachers skulk out of the room with a leveled glare. 

None of them dared to look back.

If we could have, we would have. Who else would agree?

He stood there until he was absolutely sure he couldn’t hear anyone nearby. After that, it was just a matter of going down the steps. Of making it through the hallway. 

Ignoring how unmoored he felt. He looked to his feet– left, right, left, right. Repeat until he was at the door.

It wasn’t the first time anyone would have thought that about him. Heck, it wasn’t the first time the quiet part was said out loud. It was, however, the first time it was actually doable.

Someone tapped him on the shoulder. “Hey, Ben?”

“Guh–” He whirled around. “Edith!”

She blinked. He stared. The silence lingered a bit too long for his liking, though it was clear she wanted to say something. 

“Do you need anything?” he managed.

“Are you alright?” When no answer came, she continued to trail off. “I mean, I– I saw everyone goin’ up to your office. And then there was the announcement earlier, so–”

“Of course I am.”

Another blink. “O– oh, uh, ok, then…”

“OK, then.” 

Edith persisted. She trailed behind him closely as he came closer to the door. Most days he’d be a little endeared to it, but right now, right now–

“So, where are you going to set up this whole ‘science fair’? You, uh. Forgot to mention it.”

Of course he did. “The cafeteria. It has the space for it.”

He held a hand up to the door. 

“I guess the floors have to be cleaned early…” she mumbled. “Uh, hey– wait!”

He had barely half-opened it.

“If you need anything, just ask, OK?” Then, in a lower voice, she added: “I don’t know why you’re actually doin’ this, but–”

His hand was gone as he whipped back to look at her. “Actually?” he snapped back. 

“I– I know you, and you wouldn’t be doin’ this without a reason.”

“Know me?”

His rage was already so spent– from the boys, the teachers, the other guy, it can only persist for so long. It doesn’t billow out so much as burn him out from the inside. And when pushed that far, something had to give.

“It took you a month to realize I wasn’t being an idiot on purpose,” he said. “The real question is why didn't I do it sooner.” 

Edith’s eyes widened and her shoulders shrank at the remark. Guilt curdled in him, but it was a distant thing. He wanted to leave. He wanted to reach out and take it back. His body chose the worst compromise between the two and made him stand there like an idiot.

“OK then.” She looked away. “Um, I guess I’ll prep the cafeteria for it then.”

“OK then,” was all Benjamin could manage before she left to do just that. Which was fine. That’s what he wanted, right? He needed to get going too.

Left, right, left, right. Car. Drive. He forced himself to focus on the road completely. To hold onto the wheel like a lifeline. And it worked. At least until he hit the first red light– and then the thoughts crept in.

He should have said something different. He should have said it differently. What kind of answer was I should have done it sooner, anyway? 

His knuckles turned bone-white at his grip. 

Still, he felt unmoored– like a sharp turn would make him leap out of his own body, and– If we could have, we would have, George’s voice rattled in his head. They had the motive, and they had shown time and time again they had the means. 

And yet here he still was: sweating in sixty-degree weather.

He wasn’t sure what that meant, but it was yet another thing to mull over and hang over the other guy.

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

For the next two days, the elementary school was a minefield for George and Harold. Which was why they found themselves stumbling around a corner and quickly entering the nearest empty classroom. The small mob ran past the corner none the wiser.

Harold gave a forlorn look to the stack of comics in his arms. “I don’t know how much of the sales can take this.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it.” George placed a hand to the other boy’s shoulder. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”

A pause. The other boy gave a cautious look around, now that they had a moment to breathe.

“Well, maybe put that on hold for five minutes, what the heck is up with this classroom?”

The classroom looked normal for the most part– if you ignored the absurd number of desks. There had to be triple the amount– several stacked up on each other like a fortress or maze walls. One precarious tower looked further away than it should be possible in a room this size, but it could easily be tiny desks.

“What the…”

“You two!” a voice cried.

“Ah!” Harold yelled.

“Ah!” George yelled with a little jump.

‘Ah,’ Melvin did not yell. Instead, he said: “I’m surprised you two aren’t out for recess.”

They were still standing by the door so there was no chance of him sneaking past them, and his shock of ginger hair would have stood out if he had decided to stay in. 

“Yeah, well, I’m surprised you, uh… you…” George said, letting the statement hang. “-- That you’re not working on something for that pop science fair.”

Melvin didn't react. He didn’t know whether it was better or worse– especially after Krupp made that dreaded announcement.

“What is it this time?” he continued, gesturing to the desks. “Something that increases the amount of class per classroom?"

"A scale model of the school’s pop science fair-- with additional statistics?” Harold added.

“Something to make people remember why they went into a room!” George added with a laugh, before snapping to a more contemplative look. “No wait, that’d actually be… not half-bad.”

“Hm. I’ll make a note of those,” Melvin said as he continued to stand there and not do that. The conversation lulled into silence a beat longer than comfortable. Before they could speak up, he added: “And for your information, I am working on it. Hold on.”

The both of them gave another cautious once-over to the room. The room– outside of the weird amount of desks– looked normal. It looked free of any invention, save for the muffled rattling noise. George had even peeked behind the teacher’s desk on the off chance it was hidden. 

“What do you mean hold on? There isn’t anything here.”

Melvin didn’t answer. 

Instead, the walls and some of the surrounding fixtures started shimmering different colors before settling on the color of error bars you see on TV.

Harold jumped away from a nearby desk he was leaning on as he felt it shift and become less sturdy, wobbling like heat hazes. As they lifted up to the ceiling, the whir had become a fraction louder.

“What’s going on?” he turned around. “Melv– ah!”

George let out a yell, seeing Melvin’s shape shimmer until he was a mass of red and greens. He ran to him, and his first instinct was to try and grab where his shoulder was. All his fingers met was air. Then thin strands as his hand sailed past where his shoulders would be and into the now-clump of what was the tattletale.

“Melvin!”

The strands rose up and darted away like all the other ones until they were standing in a regular classroom with its usual amount of desks and a third smaller than it looked before.

“He was too young!” George said.

“It should have been me!” Harold threw himself to the ground, bashed a fist against it, and stopped. He thought for a moment before continuing in the same dramatic cadence: “OK, I take it back, that’s a bit too much, but you get it!”

“Are you two done yet?” 

“I swear I can still hear his voice, even now–” the boy whipped his head around so fast his tie went askew. “Melvin!”

He got out of his overdramatic kowtow. “What the heck?!”

“Like I said, I’m working on the Warp-Weft-O-Tron 2000,” he said like it would explain everything. “Stress-testing it, to be more accurate.”

“The wh–” Before George could finish his sentence, the other boy stood up and pointed at the whirring thing behind Melvin.

In the corner of the classroom, around some tools and papers was something that took the space of two desks. Upon closer inspection, it looked like a sewing machine grafted beside a blocky computer . The needle continued its work and its now-unobscured rattling.

They all followed the threads converged to the machine, now completely colorless. They could just barely see the shiny thread zip through it and up the machine until even that thread dissipated. And once it did, the needle made its final whirring before powering down.

The adrenaline of seeing a kid disintegrate, like the strings a few seconds ago, dissipated to incredulity. 

“What kind of science is that thing for–” Harold pointed an accusatory finger at the machine. “Freak-People-Out-ology?!”

“It's built on the principles of techno-textiles and a bit of virtual simulation.” Melvin clicked his pen a few times before pointing it at them. “How about you two?”

“Huh?”

That was apparently the wrong answer as he put a finger to his temple. “I’m merely curious what you’re working on, seeing as Krupp’s announcement said you two suggested the pop science fair.”

And you believe him? George wanted to say, before answering his own question– of course he’d believe that.

Or at the very least, he wouldn’t cast further doubt. Doubting Krupp would mean doubting The Man. Plus, grades were on the line, and that was top priority to the tattletale than trying to think through whether they would ever suggest that.

It had only occurred now to George that that was the reason why Melvin wasn’t automatically on the defensive.

“We’re, uh– keeping it under wraps,” Harold said, realizing the other boy was taking too long to reply.

“Of course.” Melvin nodded in understanding as he made his way to the Warp-Weft-O-Tron and pulled out a spool the size of a lava lamp sitting on top of the sewing machine half. Its threads were soot grey and frayed. He placed it to the side and put an empty spool in its place, but not without grumbling about the material being insufficient.

“I will admit, the sudden nature of this assessment adds a wrench to everything, but– nothing like the stress of an unforeseen deadline to get everything in gear.”

Harold stared at the machine, and then to the boy still engrossed in fixing… whatever. In gear was an understatement if he made a simulation machine on a time crunch.

“You were really holding out on us all these years,” George said, eyeing the computer.

Rows of code scrolled up its screen. Most of it was gibberish, but there were parts he could understand. A record of previous commands and whether it was typed out or recorded through audio. S., MELVIN x1, DESK x15, and more distressingly, a MATERIAL PROCESS WARNING, whatever that was.

“How’d a sock sorter beat this out when you were picking out stuff for the Invention Convention?”

He poked around a nearby toolbox– which was more of a folder of assorted squares of materials. Many of them looked like normal threads, but a good chunk of them weren’t, from how the light bounced off them. 

“Firstly: it's a sock matcher. Secondly: Krupp only accepts the ‘practical’ ones–” He pulled out a square of the latter and placed it in an adjacent slot. Something between contemplation and annoyance edged into his tone. “The Turbo Toilet was pushing it. But, the pop science fair has no such restrictions!” 

“...It doesn’t?”

A thread the same color as the square spat out of some unseen cavity and began wrapping itself around the spool.

“I asked Ms. Ribble about the specificities for this assignment, and she said, and I quote: ‘sure, do what you need to do’.”

George and Harold both sucked a breath through their teeth. Unlike the tattletale, they knew that wasn’t full permission, so much as the classic grown-up tactic of dismissing a kid by giving them a vague answer to sate them.

“Guess not even tattling can get you all the perks you want,” Harold said carefully.

Melvin stopped typing on the computer part of the machine for a moment. With him faced away, they weren’t sure what expression was on his face, but they could feel a shift. Nothing as drastic as what happened in the principal’s office, but it was there.

“You should go.” It wasn’t a suggestion. “I need to troubleshoot.” 

Harold looked to the clock. Recess was almost over, which meant their opportunities to prepare were dwindling.

“Right,” George said.

And they slipped back into an empty hallway. They looked back, and through the window-sliver on the door, they could see the threads shoot up and around the room. The classroom became a black void, though it slowly made its way along the color spectrum.

“What do you think?” Harold asked.

“That our playground street cred is in the gutter at this rate,” George replied.

He gave him a light punch on the arm. Despite everything they couldn’t help but laugh, the sound echoing through the hall. 

“We could use it in the Captain Plan,” Harold replied. “It might be a little difficult to, ah–”

“Turbo Toilet it?” George finished, thinking back to the Invention Convention. He watched as Melvin tried to recalibrate it. “It’s a pretty big wildcard.”

As if on cue, after a few basic prisms popped into existence in the classroom, a rough approximation of a cat did. That, apparently, was too much as the simulation spooled itself back up like before. 

“But I think we do need a wildcard. It'd drive Krupp up the wall.”

Harold winced. “Well, I mean it can’t make anything worse.”

The both of them walked off to the abandoned art room. Harold shuffled his backpack to the front of him as he counted up the supplies he pilfered. To name a few: flour and water to make glue on the fly. Baking soda and vinegar, because those were Classics. Toilet paper– ‘nuff said.

He stared at a box labelled Office Supplies. In it were huge packs of sticky notes, for irony.

As wrong as Melvin was about whose idea the pop science fair was, he was right, frustratingly, about one thing: nothing like the stress of a deadline to get everything in gear.

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

The Captain Plan was one of their simpler plans, in theory. 

It was simple in the sense that it was meant to only target Krupp. The hard part, for obvious reasons, was that Captain Underpants was integral to said plan.

It amounted to swapping them out at strategic places they set up. Things he can’t stand. Things that he’d be afraid of. Long enough for the experience to stick. Then they’d swap him back to Captain and slowly amp it up. Rinse and repeat.

They’d keep doing this until he took everything back– the whole assignment gauntlet, the whole thing with the science fair–

The whole capital T Thing with Captain. 

And if he refused, well– there wasn’t anything else for it except to rinse and repeat until he did. They’ve got almost half a decades’ worth of grievances to pull back up. 

(“Krupp won’t– can’t expel us for this,” George said the night before, his form backlit by a jumbo flashlight. “I mean, he’ll need us to ‘deal’ with Captain.”

The Treehouse’s windows were boarded up to get ready for the colder weather. They should be prepping it for winter, putting stuff away so it won’t get messed up, since they insisted they didn’t need George’s parents’ help, but here they were– 

“I mean, he could hold us back now.”

“But would he really want to keep us there if we keep doing this?”

Harold shivered. “Point taken.”)

The walkie-talkie in Harold’s pocket made a noise. 

“Yyyello’.”

“How’s it going?”

Right now, the ‘it’ in question was scoping out the cafeteria. The tables were all neatly arranged in rows and ready for whatever project the fourth graders will put on them later. There was no one here save for Edith, who was deep in the kitchen.

“Melvin’s stuff is here.” 

He made his way over to the Warp-Weft-shaped tarp. After double checking for any Tattle-Turtles, he was disappointed to find no obvious screws to loosen at the access hatch.

Harold began pulling at the spool on top, unsure of how exactly to mess it up outside of tying the thread in knots. One end of the thread snaked its way to the needle, while the other end–

The other end came out of a small hole, which in turn was connected to the strange hatch Melvin put in that material square that one time. He pulled out a pair of undies, courtesy of Captain himself, and stuffed it into the slot.

The sewing machine whirred, clearly having difficulty with processing a non-square material. The thread didn’t move to spool itself, but it must have processed it by the way the underpants were disappearing in the slot.

As for the computer: it reminded him more of the school printer. There were menus upon menus of settings. In any case, Harold set out to randomly poking at them all. Some he understood– audio commands on, because that may be useful for their plan since it would be easier than trying to get close to type anything out. Everything else?

“...What the heck is a Young’s Module?” Harold asked, less out of curiosity and more to commentate for George’s benefit. “What do you think? Max or minimum?”

“I mean, Krupp’s pretty old…” his voice crackled through the walkie talkie.

“High it is!” And with that, he quickly swiped it as far to the right as he could before quickly closing everything out to the first screen. “OK, I’ll get back to y–”

“Ben!” Edith’s voice called out from across the cafeteria.

Harold ducked under the tarp before either of them could see him.

“We got a situation. Krupp’s here,” he whispered loudly.

“What? Why?!”

Harold hazarded to peek at the small gap between the tarp and the floor. He had been expecting like-liking goo-goo talk. If he had to be honest, he would have preferred that to whatever angry inspector routine Krupp was doing.

“Checking, I think.” 

He tilted his head at the principal running a finger over a table for dust. The action was clearly more for acting out… whatever this was, than any actual concern for cleanliness. The lunch lady continued to trail behind him, trying– and failing– to start a conversation.

There was a quick inhaling noise through the speakers. “OK, give me a minute. Move when I give the signal.”

Harold didn’t reply, mostly because they were close enough that he could hear them. Even from this distance, he could see how heavy the bags under his eyes were. How his posture was more hunched than usual.

Krupp sighed deeply, and his shoulders sagged even further. “I’ve been through worse. Trust me.” It almost sounded like a plea.

The lunch lady had no time to dwell on a response as the intercom screeched to life.

“Principal Krupp, please report to your office immediately,” George’s voice crackled through the intercom with a mock-smug air.

“Oh, for–” Said principal ran past her brusquely that the pin that was keeping her bangs up over her face had jostled to cover half her eye.

The signal!

“Good talk!” she called after him belatedly, but made no move to go after him. Then with a big sigh, she mumbled, “I’m blowin’ this.”

And with that, she made her way back to the kitchen and finally gave Harold an opening to get out of there. He made a mad dash to the doors, making sure to not slam it as he trailed him. Now that he was in the hallway, the faint sound of crackling and shuffling echoed throughout.

“Hey, how far is he from the office?” George asked, his voice crackling from both walkie talkie and still-active intercom.

“He’s making his way up as we speak.” 

“Cool.”

Krupp was up the first half of the stairs when he turned around. He was breathing heavily, and it was definitely not just because he was speed-walking up the stairs.

“You two have got a lot of nerve disrupting everything–”

“You’re one to talk,” Harold replied, thinking about the pop science fair coming up in a few hours. To all their years in school. To the capital T Thing with Captain.

The principal halfway down a step to approaching him until–

SNAP. The sound reverberated through the school intercoms. For a split second he saw something cross his face. Wide eyes. Furrowed brows.

And then Captain Underpants fell on said face.

He snapped back up, the toupee sitting lopsided on his head. “Sidekick! Where’s–”

Harold held up the walkie talkie. 

“Up here,” George replied.

He gave an unsure look as he tried to find where up was in relation to a walkie talkie.

“In the office,” Harold clarified. He walked past him and up the stairs, motioning him to follow.

Captain stood up, wiping the grit from his cheek. It might be because he took a heck of a tumble, but there wasn’t the typical shock of liveliness he expected when he swapped in. All things considered, he was… well, maybe not calm, but expectant.

George was standing at the receptionist half of the office, one of the curtains tucked under his arm. 

“You ready?” Then, in a stage whisper to Harold: “Anthrope’s gone off because of… ‘printer repairs’.”

Harold stared at the empty corner of the room. There was a smattering of printer ink at the walls, outlining the office printer that was not there anymore. They couldn’t help but snicker conspiratorially.

“Er,” Captain leaned over to look at what had got their attention. “What’s the plan to Free The Children now, sidekicks?” 

“We’re putting Krupp through his own personal gauntlet.”

“I don’t think it’ll take long for him to crack.” Harold gave him a reassuring pat on the arm. “We’ll make sure of it. Everything’ll be back to the way it was faster than–”

“A speeding waistband?” the superhero offered. He was definitely hiding it as he shimmied out of the principal’s clothes and put on his cape, but that same look was back on his face. 

“Exactly.”

“Where do we start?” He approached the ink stains on the wall, as if expecting the answer to pop out of the mess.

“Uh, Captain?” George pulled his attention back to the door of the principal’s office. He opened it with an overdramatic flourish. “Just step into our office for this first bit.”

Harold let out a low whistle at the sight. Every surface of the room was covered in sticky notes, leaving the room in an unsightly pale yellow that made the room look flat. Between the writing and the shadows, it did little to help figure out where everything was as Captain nearly tripped on a chair.

“What do you think of our Prankovation 2– trademark?”

Captain took to floating, mindful not to touch anything. He looked confused– he probably didn’t get things like irony yet. “…How long did this even take you?”

“Prankster’s trade secret.”

“This looks done, though,” he hedged. “I’m not sure how I’m supposed to help you here– especially with this–”

He gestured to his wrists, now tied together by jump rope courtesy of Harold. The boy went over to the sticky notes-engulfed water cooler and poured out a thimble’s amount into an open hand.

“For this one, we need to swap you back over to Krupp,” George explained. Seeing the superhero's disappointed look, he quickly continued: “This part's quick-- we're going to bring you back right after for the next bit.” 

“O– OK, then sidekicks. I trust you.” Captain twisted around so his face was in patting distance. This close, he could see the expression for what it was– hesitation.

And Captain was gone, leaving Krupp to fall on the floor, a flutter of pale yellow in his wake.

[httpino]

hiii! no one asked but i wanted to post my team 10 related headcanons. again not canon compliant at all n its very college au :D

Team 10 Headcanons

- choji has to start using everyone else as his taste testers because ino n shikamaru are sick of his food

- like don’t get them wrong they love it normally but after choji cooks the same hidden cloud dish for the millionth time (he’s preparing a home cooked meal for karui), they’re tapped out

- one time there were rumors that shikamaru n ino were dating and ino almost tf passed out

- she was wondering where she went so wrong

- it was the most embarrassing week of her life and to this day, she can’t think about it without being annoyed

- they drunkenly got matching tattoos

- ino has instigated every single fight to happen in her 4 years at konoha academy

- and trust n believe she got those fight videos too

- ino taught choji and shikamaru all about flowers

- they didn’t gaf that much but they start to find it interesting how many different things can be conveyed with flowers

- especially when they started dating their respective girlfriend

- ino is dramatic and cannot go out with choji n shikamaru if they look messy (in her eyes)

- she’ll see a wrinkle in shikamaru’s shirt and she makes him take it off and shows him how to iron it

- ino damn near threw up when her dad made a joke about her marrying shikamaru or choji

- she called them her brothers n inoichi never bothered her again

- choji brought up his n karui’s 6 month anniversary and shikamaru n ino are like “??? who??”

- choji remembers that he actually forgot to tell them lolz!

- it wasn’t on purpose, after choji went on an extended trip to the hidden cloud n met karui, he just wanted to keep her to himself for a bit

- speaking of dating, shikamaru n choji tried the whole “if you hurt her we’ll kill you” spiel on sai but he was so unphased that they were embarrassed

- they realized their worry was unneeded after sai made a girl who was nasty to ino cry

- when shikamaru tells them that he’s officially dating temari, he watches choji begrudgingly slip ino a twenty dollar bill

- appalled they were betting on him but mainly that choji was betting against him

- they’re all very very comfy with one another

- i’m talking they had sleepovers up until the age of 17 and after they graduated, they moved in together

- no one can really guess what vibe these mfs be on, the only people who truly understand them is them

- their ideal days all consist of spending time with one another

- ino really doesnt play about these two

- they’re her blood (in her mind) and anyone who slights them have slighted her

- which is terrible for shikamaru n choji’s opps because you never want ino fucking yamanaka mad at you

- very unserious trio, we love you inoshikacho!

[konigsblog]

hi orla baby! how are you? i hope you’re having an amazing day, because you deserve it! remember to eat and sleep well, stay hydrated and always keep smiling 🩷 i love you!

it’s my birthday today, and i was thinking about birthday sex with simon >.< like he surprises us by coming home early just to be with us for our birthday bcs he knows how important birthdays are for us & he also knows how much we miss him (i’m overly clingy 🥹) i don’t care if he’s rough or gentle, i just want him so much :(((( literally cannot stop thinking about belly bulge— size kink, a mix of praise n degradation and breeding with him omg

so sorry for only getting this done now, i've been pretty busy lately and haven't been able to get around to this one :((( thank you so much!!! i hope you're doing alright and i hope you enjoyed your birthday!! 🌟 i love you GRHRFGR;

BIRTHDAY GIRL

simon ghost riley x f.reader (it's your birthday, and the birthday girl gets her wishes) drabble i guess 🙁

tw; size kink, praising and degrading, unprotected sex (use protection) belly bulging, use of pet names. message me if i missed any.

simon told you he wouldn't be back in time for your birthday, that he had extra work assigned and price wasn't letting it go. you were upset, but you couldn't get mad at simon because it wasn't his choice!!! deciding to bake some cookies to cheer yourself up.

too distracted by the loud music blarring from your headphones to notice a pair of strong arms wrapped around your body, one hand covering your mouth. you panicked, up until you smelled that familiar and comforting scent, simon. “si–” your body thrown onto the island countertop, the look in his eyes expressing desire :((

taking his girthy and lengthy cock out, slapping against his abdomen as he ripped your pajama shorts off. pushing the tip of his cock into your panties, getting the material all soaked as he fucked your thigh making you whine for his meaty size inside you. “patience, birthday girl..” that seductive tone in his voice drove you wilddd!!!

he got you all slick and dripping, grasping at his hand and begging so kindly, telling him you'll be good, a deep chuckle flowing into your ears. pulling on your smaller hips and tugging your body closer to his big length, panties off and laying next to your head. slowly easing into your slit before into your hole, immediately grunting at the tightness, growing even harder than he was before!!! “missed this precious pussy..”

his pace increased quickly, giving you barely enough time to adjust before he was ramming into your needy cunt!! “take it, take it like the good girl you are.” stuffing his fingers into your mouth to muffle your whimpering sounds, balls smacking against your ass repetitively as he continued to fuck your tightness :(

you squealed his name desperately, the knot in your stomach already threatening to snap! “si– please, fuc–!” you gasped, his grasp on your hips tightening at the sounds of your moans and whimpers, watching as he bulges out your belly. “not yet, sweethear'.. look at that, bulging right out your stomach.. so– small..” it was true, you're tiny in comparison to him, his hand placed over your stomach before pressing down, making you gasp and clutch onto him.

you could sense he was getting close; his grip tightening, broad hips bullying into you. “stupid baby, strugglin' to take my big cock.. such a sweet girl– bet you've been desperate for this, yeah?” you knew he wanted an answer, but you were too far gone to say anything. “simon, i'm gonna cu–” pulsing around his again and again, cumming around his size and squirting against his abdomen, coating him in your slick.

simon spurted warm and sticky seed deep inside tour wetness, his thumb rubbing at your cunt before he pinned your wrists above your head, encircling your wrists with his fingers before holding it in one first above your head. “mm', not done with you, baby.. missed that stupid face, so needy, all slick..”

[holylulusworld]

Sleeping Beauty

Summary: All you wanted was a date.

Pairing: Former Tony Stark x fem!Reader, Jake Jensen x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, fwb relationship, unrequited feelings, Tony being a douche, implied cheating, mentions of hacking, revenge served cold, Jake being a cutie

A/N: This is an AU. Tony is not Iron Man in my story.

“Y/N, we can’t,” Tony shook his head. You were asking about going on a date again, and it seemed like he was mad at you for even considering going out that night.

“Tony, why not? All I’m asking for is a date,” you exasperatedly said. “We have been hiding our relationship for too long. I thought we could go for dinner or watch a movie. No one will recognize us.”

“Y/N, I thought you knew that this was sex only. We are not in a relationship. I cannot be seen with the help.”

“The help?” You splutter. “I’m not the fucking help, you asshole!” You slapped him across the face. “We have been together for three years. This had nothing to do with sex only, Tony! Even if I was the help, there’s no reason to be ashamed. A job is a job!”

All the pieces suddenly fell into place. Tony only ever used you to have a warm body on lonely nights. The secrecy, all the time you had to hide under his desk, or even the broom closet when someone threatened to walk in on you.

In other words, he was a coward.

“Maybe it’s for the best to end this here and now,” he said without missing a beat. “And you should call me Mr. Stark in public from now on.”

“Tony, I never called you Mr. Stark. Not even before we were a thing,” you sniffled and turned away to wipe your eyes. “How could you change so much? Or were you always an asshole?”

“People could get the wrong idea if you call me Tony.”

“Oh, like we are together or something?” You sneered. “Tony, can we not talk like adults? I know you are scared of commitment and settling down but hurting me like this because you panic is not how you treat someone who means more than a quick fuck to you.”

“See, that’s the problem,” he casually shrugged. “You don’t mean more than a quick fuck to me. It was good while it lasted, but I don’t want a relationship. I told you so more than once.”

You nodded thoughtfully and even cupped your chin. You hummed and dropped your hand from your chin. “I can’t remember hearing these words from you. Remind me, Mr. Stark. Was that before, or after you told me that you love me and that no one will ever take my place.”

“Why do you have to make things complicated, Y/N? We are over and should act like adults. Only because I don’t want a relationship with you, doesn’t mean you cannot work here any longer.”

You tried not to laugh at this poor excuse of a man. He broke up with you and threatened your job at the same time. “Fine, you are free to go and fuck whoever caught your eye. I’m at my desk and check on the latest numbers of the company you pretend to run.”

Holding your head high you left the room. Tony wanted to sneak out of your relationship like a coward, so you had to be the adult and hold back the urge to break his face.

Your heart was battered and bruised, but you were in this position before. Because men are scared little boys pretending to be all grown and tough they hurt the ones loving them without thinking twice.

Two weeks later you were almost over your heartbreak. You finally realized you hung your heart on a man not able to commit and tried to move on. If Tony wasn’t ready to be in a relationship, you had to accept his decision and act professionally.

That was until you saw him getting all cozy with his ex-girlfriend. He even dared to make his revived relationship public to rub salt into your wounds.

Not two weeks after he broke things up with you, Tony Stark, the eternal bachelor proposed to Pepper Potts and showed off his pretty fiancé. He was all over her, and she, well she gave you boring looks and smirked at you.

You knew right there and then that Tony broke things off with you for her, not because he was scared of commitment.

“Jensen,” you looked around the dingy bar. “Why did we meet up here?”

“No hug for me?” Jensen frowned deeply when you slipped into the booth next to him. “We haven’t seen each other for three years and all I get is an annoyed look?”

“Jake, I don’t have time for this,” you snapped at Jake. He wasn’t the bad guy in your story but pretending to be alright while your world was falling apart wasn’t easy.

“Last night you said something about your boss and boyfriend. So…” Jake expectantly looked at you. “How can Jake help you?”

“I-“ you bit your tongue. “I installed a sleeping beauty in someone’s system some time ago. It was meant to be a backup if anything happens to my data on their server.” You licked your lips. “You see, all the data I tried to protect are now…”

“Unprotected thanks to the little surprise you left in their system,” Jensen concluded. He was all giddy and wanted you to pour him in. “What do we do with your sleeping beauty now?”

Jake cocked his head to watch you fidget with your phone. “I don’t know, Jensen. That’s why I called you.” You exhaled deeply. “The man I believed loved me dumped me for his ex, pretending we never had a relationship. He threatened my position within his company and rubbed his infidelity into my face.”

“What a piece of shit!” Jake exclaimed loudly, earning funny looks from the people sitting in the booth opposite your position.

“I wanted to be the bigger person,” you sniffed and shoved your phone toward Jake. “I tried to act professionally and move on. You know, like an adult.”

He nodded and eyed you up and down. Jake always had a thing for you but never dared to ask you out. “What happened?”

“Tony Stark started to show off his pretty fiancé,” you hissed her name and wrinkled your nose. “I swallowed the hatred and still tried to be the greater person.”

“Of course,” he hastily said and scooted a little closer to you. “What happened?” Jake asked again.

“After he announced his engagement with that bitch not two weeks after he gave me the boot,” you took a deep breath, ignoring the dull ache in your heart, “he fired me.”

“Is that guy real?” Jake huffed. “I mean…how can he do something like that? He makes us all look bad.”

“Us all?” You quirked a brow.

“Men. Cockowner,” he shrugged. “If a guy pulls a stunt like that, he dooms us all. In the name of all men, I’m very sorry this douchebag did this to you.”

“If you are truly sorry, help me with sleeping beauty,” you pointed at your phone. “Their system is wide open for you. I just don’t know what to do with it.”

“What do you want?” He moved even closer to look you deep in the eyes. “Do you want me to anger him a little or more?”

“I want him to be as embarrassed as I was that night. I want you to leak every dirty little secret he tried to hide. Tony Stark will regret fucking me over.”

“We can’t do it right now,” Jake said. “If you leave the company and only a few hours, or even days later I hack their system…”

“They will know I was involved,” you ended Jake’s line. “You’re right. I was blinded by my anger that I didn’t think this through.”

“How about you take your two-weeks’ notice and pretend everything is fine. You leave the company, and we wait a few more weeks, or months. And when he feels safe and prepares for their wedding…” Jake slammed his fist onto the table. “Baaaam! I’ll strike and destroy him!”

Three months later…

“Signed. Sealed. Delivered, ma’am,” Jake grinned as you stared at the monitors at his penthouse in disbelief. “I got you good, Tony Stark, and fucked you over.”

You clasped one hand over your mouth and giggled. Jake used the sleeping beauty you hid in the system to leak all of Tony’s dirty little secrets. “Wow! I mean…wow! You outdid yourself!”

“If you ever want to fuck someone else over,” he leaned closer to grin at you while squeezing your thigh, “I’m your man…”

[mirefireflies]

listen okay hear me out ..

claudia is cassandra is a canary in a coal mine..

in new orleans claudia left. twice. she saw the patterns of abuse and tried to warn louis but he didn’t listen. lestat the vulnerable becomes lestat the irritable becomes lestat the controlling, you watch. she knew what would happen because it had already happened before. (the prophet cassandra was cursed to see the future and never be believed.) she tried again and again to warn her people and they refused to listen.

when simply pointing out the pattern to louis isn’t enough, claudia begs him to leave with her, to go to europe, but it isn’t until lestat attacks claudia and slams her into the wall that louis finally seems to wake up, and finally sees the danger they are both in. (a canary was an early indicator of dangerous gasses in a coal mine, when the canary passed out, the workers would evacuate) claudia is louis’ indicator, when she’s in danger, something is wrong

then, during the trial, not only is claudia ignored by the crowd whenever she tries to speak out, she is actively —painfully— silenced by the coven. her mind is fogged and crushed in a vice. her ankles are cut to stop her from running, or even standing at all, and though the allusion to slavery is clear, it’s also reminiscent of the way that birds will have their wings clipped to stop them from flying away.

and that’s not even going into how claudia is explicitly compared to birds multiple times. because you are built like a bird, because you are a mistake. the entirety of the baby lu play in all its awful foreshadowing. tweedily deedily dead.

but she goes out fighting, with her head held high. and she warns the audience that she will have her vengeance in one way or another. i now know all your faces. cassandra faces her own death calmly, secure in the knowledge that she will have her revenge, that agamemnon will be brutally murdered only moments after herself. and though she might not know it yet, claudia will similarly be avenged by louis. but despite her constant defiance, when the time comes, claudia too is calm. she comforts madeleine in the moments before the end, and she holds her even as she is burning too.

claudia and cassandra are alike in so many ways it genuinely makes me lose my mind. they are both raped and brutalized, mocked and ignored. they are both taken from their homes, turned into something unnatural against their will, given a blessing that is really a curse and then punished for being ungrateful. their makers are their abusers and the worst part of being cursed is that it turns them into a reflection of their maker.

the tragedy of girls who see too much.. whose warnings are forever ignored… who cannot escape their fate even when they see it coming.. who are killed for reasons that have nothing to do with them..

and claudia’s death is what finally, definitively proves to louis that he is in a dangerous situation in paris. of course, he also suffers at the hands of the coven, but he himself says that he was more worried about claudia, calling for her in the restaurant, desperate for any sign that she was alive when they first get captured, fighting not to be taken away from her at the end of the trial. in losing claudia, he loses his sense of danger, of self preservation. he goes mad in the graveyard, and plans his own death while planning his vengeance. she was an early warning sign, but more than that, she was his guiding light. and daniel sees this and invokes claudia to get through to louis, to finally make him see the truth about armand’s involvement in her death. you were supposed to die with claudia. if he doesn’t remember the realities of her death then he cannot see the warning signs and so once again, claudia saves him.

and, of course, she dies in a canary yellow dress.

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

🧑‍🚒🧑‍🚒🧑‍🚒🧑‍🚒🧑‍🚒🧑‍🚒🧑‍🚒🧑‍🚒

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

☣️☣️☣️☣️☣️☣️☣️☣️

🔍🔍🔍🔍🔍🔍🔍🔍

🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼

24 for 🧑‍🚒

---

 “Ladder is like twenty feet away. You can swim it?”

“Yeah,” Harry confirms. 

And not once does he imply that Harry made a mistake or overreacted or should have handled the situation differently. 

April, 2026

“So he saved you,” Frank says. “And that fixed things?”

“Yes?” Harry frowns. “Okay, well no. I mean, maybe it helped. But I was still mad at him. We still had to talk.”

“Were you mad that he saved you?” Frank asked. “While you were mad at him?”

Harry considers this. 

“Yeah,” he says. “There was probably a bit of that.”

“Why do you think that was?” Frank asks.

“It just didn’t seem fair, you know?” Harry sighs. “Like, he got to be shitty for weeks, then all of a sudden, he’s the good guy? Swooping in and being kind and considerate. I was annoyed.”

---

24 for 🩸

---

Well, okay. Sure. He must have. An obliterated grave. A dead body. He hadn’t been thinking. He couldn’t think. 

Shit. 

“Do you think she really does?” Buck asks. 

Yes, Bobby thinks she really does. 

If Athena thinks they’re connected, but thinks he’s dead, does she think whoever took his body also killed Gerrard? Why would she think that? What could the motive be? 

“I don’t know,” May says. “But she’s not going to stop until she proves it.”

“I thought she quit the force?” Buck asks.

Quit? Athena quit her job? Over this? No. No way. That’s not okay. 

---

24 for ☣️

---

Chim is in Gila Bend. No word on Bobby yet. 

They could have separated them. He could be dead. They just don’t know. Buck is going to really hope it’s the former option, and stick to that hope if he wants to get Chim out alive. He can’t fall into despair right now. 

“What do we do now?” Hen asks. 

Everyone has grimness behind their eyes. They’re all thinking the same thing. 

“We can’t assume it’s as unguarded as last time,” Eddie says. 

Buck nods. “Chim clearly holds value to him. Ravi, do you have any idea why?”

Hen’s ability had made her a liability. Too likely to cause damage. Easier to wash their hands of her and hold onto the other two they had left. Or so Buck assumes. Which means Chim’s not as dangerous. Probably?

“Whenever I tried to get to him, he was alert,” Ravi says. “He seemed okay. I never… I mean, I never got more than a few seconds.”

---

24 for 🔍

---

He’s watching a large glass door shut between himself and another firefighter. Panic rises in his chest, and he doesn’t know why. He doesn’t know who this is. 

What? Uh, whoa! Hey, hey, hey! What are you doing?

He hears his own voice, raspy with fear. Behind the glass door, which Buck clearly cannot get through, the other firefighter begins to move his mask. 

No, no, no, no, no, Cap, don't take it off. Cap! No! What are you doing?

This is his captain? Is this the man who asked him why he didn’t have a couch.

When he removes the mask, Buck sees a very ill-looking man. Grayish skin. Weary eyes. Blood is running from his nose. What the hell happened to him?

He gives Buck a sad but brave sort of look. 

You're gonna be okay, Buck. Remember that.

Buck feels his body pulse with dread.

---

24 for 🔼

---

“Yeah,” Buck sighs. “And I’m not sure everyone is helping. My sister keeps on looking at me, uh, like she thinks I'm gonna die. Again.”

“Well, that I cannot help you with,” she tells him. 

Fair enough. She’s not a shrink. Maybe that’s what he needs. 

“Uh, hey, you, um… You see people who've been through near-death experiences all the time, right?” He asks her. 

She nods. “It's an unfortunately large percentage of my clientele.”

“What happens to them after?” Buck asks. “How are they able to just go back to their same old lives, without…”

He trails off, thinking of that dread welling up in him. He doesn’t like its lingering presence. It’s not him. Or at least he doesn’t want it to be. He doesn’t like the idea of spending so much time fearing death that he misses good things in his life. He thinks that’s what grief did to his parents. He doesn’t want to be like that for his kid. Kids. All three of them. 

---