#tell me if you guys want us to continue this

[ariestrxsh]

bsf!chris x bsf!reader

🤍 content warning: smut, fingering, oral (f!receiving), unprotected sex, sexualization of religious imagery

🤍 summary: after a date gone bad, your best friend chris is there to make you feel better with his cock

this fic was inspired/requested by this ask that was sent in forever ago (and it was also inspired/requested by someone who asked for a plot where reader goes to chris for comfort after a bad date but I forgot to save their ask </3)

angel like u

꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱

You buried your face into Chris' chest, tears staining the front of his shirt, but he didn't mind at all. He didn't mind the tear stains, and he didn't mind that you'd interrupted him playing video games on stream. All that he cared about was that you were okay.

He cradled your head with one hand, and with the other, he tenderly rubbed your back. You hadn't even been able to explain to your best friend why you were so upset yet, and he still held you against his chest, smoothing down your hair.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," he said in a comforting voice. You pulled away, sniffled, and looked up at him with your big, misty eyes. "It's embarrassing, really," you started off, wiping away a tear with the sleeve of your sweater.

He listened quietly without judgment as you continued on. "I went on a first date with a guy, and I don't usually do this, but we were getting along really well. So I went back to his place, and things got a little heated," you started to tell him, searching for his reaction and hoping he didn't think differently of you.

"What happened?" Chris sharply asked, clenching his jaw and imagining the worst-case scenario. "It's not that it was bad or anything. It's just that he didn't make me.." you started to say, but you turned away, too flustered to finish your sentence.

"He didn't make you.. cum?" Chris speculated. "Exactly," you said, somewhat relieved that Chris had finished your sentence for you.

"He came, and then it was just over. He didn't even try to get me off after or even cuddle with me. I just put my clothes back on, he told me he didn't feel anything for me, and then he suggested that he take me home," you admitted, your lip quivering and your eyes welling with tears again.

"What an asshole," Chris muttered under his breath, wiping away your mascara-stained tears from your cheek with his thumb.

"I didn't want to cry in front of him, and I didn't want to be alone, so I asked him to take me here since it was only a few minutes away. I hope you don't mind that I just showed up unannounced on your doorstep, sobbing at midnight," you apologetically said.

"Of course I don't mind. You know I'm here for you whenever you need it," Chris comforted you. "Thank you, Chris," you replied, pulling him into another hug, tightly gripping the fabric of his shirt as if he'd float away if you let go.

"Boys like that don't deserve angels like you. How are you feeling right now, pretty girl?" Chris wondered, resting his head against yours.

"I know I agreed to it, but I just feel so used, you know? I feel stupid for giving it up on the first date. And listen, I know this is weird, but I still feel kind of.." your voice trailed off as you cracked an embarrassed smile.

"Turned on?" Chris guessed, finishing your thought again.

"Yeah, I mean, it was good up until he stopped. I was so close," you admitted, almost forgetting you were talking to your male best friend instead of your therapist. "Oh, god. I'm so sorry. You didn't need to know that," you buried your head in your hands after your confession.

Chris let out a small chuckle, caressing your back with his fingertips again. "You don't have to be embarrassed to tell me things like that. I don't want to make you uncomfortable or anything, but I could, you know, finish you off if you'd like," Chris offered, his tongue darting out and wetting his lips as his gaze fell to your mouth.

Your eyebrows flew up. "Y-you'd do that?" You asked, seriously considering his proposal. "Yeah. I hate seeing you cry," Chris whispered, wiping away another tear as it fell. "If I could go back in time and make sure the whole situation didn't happen to begin with, I would. Making you feel good is the least I can do."

He tilted your chin up to look at him, searching your face for permission to kiss you. "What do you say? You want me to make you cum?" He sweetly asked, his gaze lingering on yours. "Yes. Pleeease, Chris," you softly begged, the words surprising you as they tumbled from your mouth in such a desperate manner.

He smirked down at you before his eyes fluttered closed, and he leaned in, his lips gently meeting yours. It started off slow - a few soft pecks here and there and a gentle caress of his fingertips along your jawline, sending goosebumps across your warm skin.

Before you knew it, the two of you had been swept up in the moment. His lips passionately engulfed yours, and his velvet-like tongue gently brushed against yours, filling your mouth with the taste of a blue raspberry-flavored piece of candy he'd eaten shortly before.

You softly moaned into his mouth, the vibration tickling his lips and sending blood rushing below his waist. He reached up your shirt, gently pinching your sensitive nipples, feeling them harden under his touch. He pulled your top off over your head and admired the sight of you half-nude on his bed.

His hand wandered to the button of your jeans, and he slipped his long, slender fingers into your waistband. He gasped and pinched his eyebrows together when he felt how wet you were, his face only a few inches from yours as he explored your folds.

You relaxed against his body, a few breathy, textured moans spilling from your lips. "Let's get you out of these," Chris suggested, removing his hand from your waistband and motioning for you to lift your hips, so he could pull your jeans and your panties off of you and have better access to you.

Once you were completely naked, you leaned back on Chris' bed and slowly parted your legs, showing yourself off to him. "Look at that. She's so happy to see me," Chris seductively cooed, sliding his middle finger up and down your slit. You shuddered at the sensation and his words.

Your breath hitched in your throat as your best friend toyed with you, spreading open your labia and admiring how pretty and pink it was. He placed two digits at your entrance and watched them slowly disappear into your drooling hole.

"You weren't kidding. You are turned on," Chris observed, pumping his fingers and slightly curling them. You bit back a moan and grasped at the bedsheets beneath you. "Don't be shy. I wanna hear you," Chris responded with a smile on his face, indicating to you that he didn't care that his brothers were asleep upstairs.

You nodded and released your lower lip from between your teeth. As Chris picked up the pace, another sensual sound tore through you, but you didn't hold back this time. "That's it," Chris purred.

You peered down at the way he pistoned his fingers deep inside of you, your eyes traveling to the silver chain around his wrist and his prominent veins on his arms. With his blue eyes locked on yours, he lowered his head between your thighs and took your clit into his mouth.

You jumped and squealed at the feeling of his soft tongue exploring you, fluttering around on your needy pussy. He closed his lips down around your sensitive bundle of nerves and started gently suckling on it.

"Oh, Chris," his name fell from your lips as your tipped your hand back and started combing through his soft, brown hair with your hand. He worked tirelessly, his mouth and his fingers caressing your sensitive flesh, and he was determined to do so until you were finishing all over his tongue.

"Chris.." you whispered, his name falling from your lips again, but this time in a tone that indicated that you needed something from him. He peered up at you with his perfectly blue eyes and his drunk expression as he drank from your center. "Hmm?" He hummed against your clit, causing you to raise your hips and grind against his face.

"Your tongue feels heavenly, but I need more. Please," you requested. "More?" He asked, pulling away for a moment. You reached down and gently tugged on the collar of his shirt. "I need you to fuck me, Chris," the words tumbled out of you with fervor.

He was towering over you while you laid on your back, staring up at him like he was a god whose cock was going to bring you eternal salvation. He pulled his shirt off over his head, revealing his gorgeous body to you that had become more muscular in these recent months due to how often he'd been working out.

Your eyes danced over his chest, his stomach, and the prominent lines on his lower abdomen that directed your attention to his hard on that was struggling against the grey cotton of his sweatpants.

Before you had time to take in just how flawless he looked shirtless, he was hooking his thumbs in his waistband and tugging down his bottoms. His dick sprung out, and your gaze followed the way it gently bobbed.

"You ready, angel?" Chris asked, positioning himself between your legs. You stared down at his smooth, pink cockhead that was glistening with precum, and you nodded. Your jaw fell slack at the initial stretch as he pushed the tip into your weeping hole. Chris was much thicker than the man you'd been with earlier that night.

"So big.." you whimpered as he pushed it in a little deeper. A smug smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I know, angel," he said in a breathy groan as you fluttered around him. He started to rock his hips back and forth, inserting more of his length with every thrust. You let out a relieved sigh as he found your gspot, and your eyes rolled around in your head.

Chris gazed down at you beneath him, arms outstretched and tightly gripping his soft sheets. You loved the way he looked hovering above you, his flushed cheeks, his desire-filled blue eyes, and his pouty, pink lips parted as the room filled with his moans.

You felt his hand brush against the inside of your thigh as he spread your legs open further. His thumb found your clit, and he started moving it in circles as he drove himself into you over and over again. You let your sounds of pleasure pour from your lips with reckless abandon as Chris skillfully brought you to the edge.

You felt that divine feeling brewing deep within your core as Chris drilled his cock into you at an increasingly harder and faster pace. He could feel you sucking him in, and the way your pussy was throbbing around him. "You wanna cum, don't you, pretty girl?" He purred, looking into your eyes. "Mhmm," you hummed back desperately.

"How many times?" He asked, smiling down at you. His question surprised you. The man you'd gone on the date with couldn't even make you orgasm once, and now Chris was offering multiple? You were nearly too fucked out to answer him, but you regained your composure long enough to tell him, "three."

"Three? Greedy girl," he teased you, still making circles on your clit with his fingers as he rammed his tip into your gspot. "Show me what you've got, angel," Chris whispered, jolting his hips into you in a rhythmic pattern that he loved the way you reacted to.

Before you knew it, he was driving you over the edge, and your muscles tightened around him before you started to shake violently. You practically screamed in pleasure as you came on his cock, clenching around him uncontrollably which made it hard for him to hold on until your second orgasm, never mind your third. You felt the tension leave your body.

You'd been waiting all night for this feeling, and as you were sinking into the pleasure rippling throughout your system, you felt a second wave coming on. The pressure built so quickly this time, but the release was just as incredible as the first, resulting in you curling your toes and tearing at the sheets beneath you.

Chris was holding on for dear life, trying to get you to your third climax before he let himself cum, and with every powerful thrust into your drooling cunt, the harder it became for him to control his orgasm. He was begging to finish inside of you.

However, he maintained his stamina, pistoning into you at the perfect speed and pressure to get you what you asked for without giving in just yet. You trembled as you came onto his length a third time, leaving a thick ring of white at the base of his shaft.

Once you were completely spent, he snapped his hips forward and held them still, a guttural moan passing through his lips while he pumped you full of his heavenly substance. You could feel him release his load into you, his cock pulsating in your hole and leaving you with an incredible post-orgasmic state. He slowly pulled himself out of you, admiring the beautiful mess he'd left behind.

"How was that, angel? How do you feel?" Chris asked, checking in with you and cradling your face in his palm as he ran his thumb across your cheek. You smiled in sheer bliss, your chest still rising and falling as you caught your breath.

"That was divine. Your cock is like heaven," you whispered into his ear. "Well, angels like you are who heaven was made for," he whispered back.

[tooturtly]

Just so ppl know it does get better! I didn’t really have friends from ages 13-18, and even before then I always felt a little different (gay and neurodivergent). And yeah, it sucked. I thought I was doing everything right. I talked to people in class, I did extracurriculars, I was involved. But nobody was texting me unless it was about something school related. I wasn’t invited to anybody’s house. Twice the people I ate lunch with made homecoming plans but never invited me, I just showed up bc of how much they talked about it.

It finally took seeing the group of people I thought were my friends really overtly reject an openly neurodivergent guy from the friend group. Why? Because he talked too much, he was too sincere. It wasn’t any fault of his own. When I hung out with him in a smaller group, I had a blast. And I realized it wasn’t his fault or mine, but the people who I didn’t even like that much who were pushing me away. They were doing the same thing to both of us, and I should be pissed about it! (I still am, even know people change, it was still a shitty thing to do)

My senior year I finally put myself first and realized that having bad friends was worse than being alone. And I might as well be alone on my terms. I went to homecoming and prom by myself, I wore my own weird clothes and danced by myself just to have fun. I realized that going with those people had made me have less fun, because they hardly wanted to dance to the music if they didn’t know the song. I decided I was going to have fun and be my own person.

The only people I had who were friends were the older people at the game shop I went to. They were kind and patient with me when I didn’t know all the rules, and I’ve since lost touch with them but everyday I’m thankful that I had them in my life. Thank you for taking care of this weird teenager who was too loud and too pushy, and who you guided anyway! Thank you for humoring me!

And then I did find lasting friends. I graduated high school and found a group of amazing, nerdy, goofy people who I clicked with. We play D&D together, we eat together often, we share our stories, we talk and we laugh, we have inside jokes.

As I’ve gotten older I know I still have those moments. Even with my closest friends, I have doubts and anxieties about if they actually like me, if I’m a good and kind enough person to be able to sustain a friendship. Sometimes I think maybe I’m better off alone, because then any hurt I cause will only be me. I’ve never had friends before, I don’t know anything! Sometimes I think I’m too full of hurt to do anything but hurt. But I don’t trust those thoughts! My brain lies to me all the time! Those terrible twisted feelings never come from me, they come from a me that doesn’t know anything but pain and sorrow. I’m an entirely different person when the depression hits, and I’ve learned enough not to trust how I feel in those moments.

I know that I’m trying and my friends know it too. I’m not purposefully mean, I make amends when I make mistakes, which is all you can do because everyone makes mistakes. And I think about how much sadder my life would be without my support network. I would be miserable! Yeah I can do it alone, but I don’t want to! Doing it alone sucks! I love my friends! I don’t want to let them go, and they want me around. If my friends didn’t want me around, they’d tell me to pack it. Yet I’ve continued making friends, I find fun and weird people everywhere!

Fuck it, I’m gonna be me as much as I can! Life is terrible when you’re pretending to be someone else. And I’ve been lucky enough to find space irl where I can be me. If you can’t do that in person, go online, find community anywhere you can get it. I know I learned a lot from lurking online in high school.

My friends love me even though I have flaws, and I love them even though they have flaws. Including the anxiety and self doubt! Loving with flaws is human. Confidence is your armor against that self doubt. Even if it’s fake! Say fuck it and love your life, love yourself! The world is beautiful! Life is beautiful in those small moments laughing, in talking, in smiling.

Yes this is optimistic positivity! Because pessimism made me sad and being sad does not make you want to live! And I want to live. I made the choice once to live as much as I can. God’s tried to kill me twice and he has failed so far, so I will dance through life laughing.

I can still be depressed and I can still laugh! I can be lonely sometimes and still have friends! I can know that there’s always light at the end of the tunnel if I smile and greet the darkness as my friend.

On Isolation

[kashverse]

Can we get some lore on Toji and mamaguro?

megumi, sitting cross-legged on the floor, tilts his head and asks the question of the century.

“how did you and papa meet?”

you pause. toji’s eyes immediately gleam with something absolutely devious. and you know—before he even opens his mouth—that he’s about to ruin it. “ahhh, great question, kid,” toji sighs, cracking his knuckles like he’s about to tell the most important story of all time. “see, once upon a time, i was young. reckless. sexy. a lone wolf prowlin’ the streets—”

your head snaps toward him. “what.”

“—and then,” he continues, ignoring you completely, “i met this woman.” he jerks his chin toward you. “absolutely feral. scary as hell. deadly, too. had this whole mysterious cat burglar thing goin’ on.” megumi’s eyes widen. 

“like catwoman?”

“exactly!” toji claps his hands. “but hotter.”

you squint. “i took one look at her,” toji sighs dramatically, clutching his chest like a man struck by fate. “and bam!” he slaps the floor for emphasis, making megumi jump. “love at first sight.”

“…you were on the floor at first sight,” you correct. “because i threw you there.” toji grins. “same thing.”

megumi’s eyebrows furrow. “why’d you throw him?”

toji hums, tapping his chin like he’s recalling some grand tale. “well, kid, your mama wasn’t always the sweet, loving lady she is now. back in the day, she was a real menace. sharp, deadly, no-nonsense.” you roll your eyes. “and you were an idiot.”

“a charming idiot,” toji corrects, leaning back with a smirk. “but hey, you wanna hear the real story?” he gestures for megumi to sit closer, voice dropping conspiratorially. “lemme tell you how it really happened…”

 /\___/\ ꒰ ˶• ༝ - ˶꒱ ./づᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊°.. ₊ ⊹ . ₊˖ . ₊

toji should’ve known better than to touch you. but in his defense, he had really just wanted your attention. it wasn’t every day you saw someone move like that—fast, sharp, deadly, with the kind of ease that made seasoned killers look sloppy. you had just wiped the floor with half a dozen guys and hadn’t even broken a sweat. so, naturally, toji thought it would be real cute to tap your shoulder. 

“yo, sweetheart, what’s your—”

before he could finish, his back slammed against the pavement, skull bouncing off the concrete. you stood over him, eyes sharp, unimpressed, like you were deciding whether or not to finish the job. “touch me again and i’ll break your arm,” you said. toji, lying there with a grin stretching across his face, thought, damn.

toji was relentless. “shiuuuu,” he whined, draping himself over the back of shiu’s chair like a dead weight. “c’mon, man, just once. put me on a job with her. please.” shiu didn’t even look up from his paperwork. “for the last time, no.”

“why not?” toji huffed. “we’d be great together.” shiu sighed. “no, you’d be a menace. i don’t have time to deal with you getting distracted and showing off for your crush mid-mission.” toji crossed his arms. “what? i would not.”

shiu finally glanced at him. toji looked away. shiu raised an eyebrow. toji grumbled, “okay, maybe a little.”

shiu shook his head. “go away.” but did that stop toji? absolutely not.

the man campaigned like his life depended on it. followed you around whenever he saw you, made a damn fool of himself trying to impress you—sparring without a shirt (useless, you didn’t even blink), dramatically taking down targets in the most unnecessarily flashy ways, dropping the occasional sweetheart or princess just to see if he could get a rise out of you. nothing. you remained cool, detached, frustratingly uninterested. 

until one day, when you finally looked at him and said, “if i agree to work with you, will you shut up?” toji lit up like a kid on christmas. “yes.”

“fine.”

“wait, really?”

you shrugged. “shiu thinks you’re useful enough to keep around, so i’ll give it a shot. but if you slow me down, i’m leaving you behind.” toji grinned. “babe, you’re gonna love working with me.”

(you did not love working with him. at first.)

the first mission together was a disaster. not because it went wrong—oh no, everything was executed perfectly. but because toji spent the entire time trying to get you to laugh. he was muttering jokes over the comms, making faces when no one was looking, even tossing out ridiculous one-liners mid-fight just to see if he could crack your composure. nothing. you were focused, professional, as if you didn’t even register his antics. 

until the job was done, and he caught you, just for a split second, hiding the smallest smirk. toji nearly died on the spot. "i knew you had a sense of humor," he said, triumphant. you rolled your eyes. “if you mess around too much, you'll get yourself killed.” toji grinned. "nah. gotta stick around. haven’t won you over yet.”

(he did. eventually.)

 /\___/\ ꒰ ˶• ༝ - ˶꒱ ./づᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊°.. ₊ ⊹ . ₊˖ . ₊

megumi listened like it’s a live-action soap opera. “and guess what?” toji smirks, elbowing your side. “it worked.”

“against my better judgment,” you mutter, crossing your arms. megumi tilts his head. “but you like him now.”

toji grins, looking smug. “yeah, mama. you like me.”

you stare at him. then, with a perfectly measured swing, you whack the back of his head so fast that he blinks in shock. then, suddenly, something in his face changes. the slow grin. the slight daze in his eyes. “damn,” he breathes. “that’s exactly why i fell for you in the first place.”

megumi makes a disgusted face. but toji, still caught in whatever lovestruck spiral he’s in, just stretches and leans back against the couch, arms crossed behind his head. “it’s true, y’know,” he hums, reminiscing. “with other people, i was a cold bastard. with your mama? blubbering puppy.”

megumi looks at you for confirmation. you sigh. “unfortunately, yes.”

megumi squints. “prove it.”

toji’s grin widens.

somewhere, in an alternate flashback���

“alright, asshole, you got three seconds to start beggin’ before i blow your damn face off,” toji growls, pointing his gun at some poor soul tied to a chair. the guy trembles. “p-please, i—”

“not you, dumbass, him,” toji grunts, jerking his thumb toward his colleague—shiu, who is standing off to the side, looking like he has an unfortunate headache. “toji,” shiu sighs. “just finish the job.”

“nah, nah, lemme enjoy this.” toji cracks his neck. “c’mon, big guy, scream f'me.”

footsteps. and before the victim can even register what’s happening, toji suddenly changes. in half a second, he goes from “demonic assassin ready to pull the trigger” to—

“BABE!!”

his voice shoots up an octave. the victim stares. and then he watches—in real time—as the fearsome assassin fushiguro toji throws his loaded gun on the table and immediately goes soft. “babe,” toji beams, turning toward the door. “didja eat yet? you sleep okay? what’s up? what’s goin’ on?”

the victim blinks. you walk into the room like nothing is out of the ordinary, sipping a bottle of water, giving the scene a quick glance before meeting toji’s gaze.

“you forgot your lunch.”

you hold up a neatly wrapped bento box. toji gasps. "awww, babe, you love me.”

the victim gapes as toji practically skips over to you, completely forgetting he was in the middle of a goddamn interrogation. the target, still bound to his chair, is on the verge of tears. “WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING—”

back to the present—

megumi, jaw slightly dropped, slowly turns to his father.

“…you are pathetic.”

toji grins. “nah. i’m in love.” you sigh, rubbing your temples. “you were in love. now you’re just embarrassing.”

megumi nods in agreement. toji scoffs. “y’know, if this is the kinda disrespect i get in my own house—”

“—you can leave,” you and megumi say in unison. toji groans, flopping dramatically onto the floor. but secretly? he wouldn’t have it any other way.

[insidekatmind]

Valentine's Day-Jobe Bellingham

It's Valentine's Day, and London is bathed in a golden light as the streets prepare to welcome the romantic atmosphere of the day. The sky is blue, but the air has that crisp touch that brushes against your face, making everything seem more magical than usual. It’s your first Valentine’s Day together with Jobe, the guy who has captured your heart for a long time, and he’s planned something special for you.

You wake up to a sweet surprise: a red rose and a handwritten letter on the nightstand. You sit on the bed, feeling your heart race with excitement, and open the letter with trembling hands. It’s short, but his words make you smile with all the intensity you feel for him:

"My love, today I want to show you London like you've never seen it before. Get your heart ready for an adventure because today it’s just the two of us and our love. I love you, Jobe."

Emotion fills you, and you can’t wait to see what he has in store for you. After getting ready, wearing a dress that makes you feel more beautiful than ever, Jobe is waiting for you outside your apartment. When he sees you, his eyes shine, and a warm smile spreads across his face.

“Ready for my surprise?” he asks in a voice that makes your heart beat faster. He’s always so charming, but in this moment, he seems even more special. His smile is the sweetest you’ve ever seen, and you can’t help but smile back.

“More than ready,” you reply, your heart full of happiness.

He takes your hand and leads you outside, where an elegant white carriage, pulled by two black horses, is waiting. The wheels creak slightly as the coachman opens the door, and Jobe helps you climb inside. Once seated, the sky of London opens up above you, and the sound of the carriage rolling over cobblestone streets is the only noise that breaks the afternoon's silence. Jobe sits next to you, and with a tender smile, he takes your hand in his.

“Where are you taking me?” you ask with a soft laugh, but your eyes only show curiosity.

“I don’t want to spoil it all,” he says with a mysterious smile. “But I can tell you that London has never been this beautiful. Are you ready?”

“Are you sure you don’t want to tell me where we’re going?” you joke, but he shakes his head, his gaze lost in yours.

“There’s nothing to say, it’s a surprise.” And his tone, serious but affectionate, only makes you more excited.

The carriage moves slowly through the streets of London, and the world seems to stand still. You pass by the most iconic places in the city, but each sight feels more extraordinary, more intimate, more special because you're sharing it with him. The Tower of London, Big Ben, and the Thames flow by like a painting that changes color with every step.

“I can’t believe we’re here, in this moment,” you say, a smile on your lips.

Jobe looks at you with an expression that speaks more than a thousand words, as if every corner of the city has become more beautiful because you're experiencing it with him. “Every moment with you is perfect, Y/N,” he replies, gently caressing your face. “I like to think that even London is smiling with us today.”

You fall silent for a moment, just to listen to the heartbeat of both of you. The carriage continues gliding through the city, but it feels as though you are alone in a world all your own.

Eventually, the carriage stops in front of one of the most beautiful parks in London, a corner of tranquility that seems suspended in time. Jobe gestures with his head and helps you step out. The cool air caresses you as you walk beside him, holding his hand, completely lost in the quiet magic that only two hearts in love can feel.

Jobe stops, turns toward you, and looks into your eyes with a seriousness you’ve never seen before. “Y/N,” he begins, his voice soft, “this is my special place. Where I feel closest to you. I want you to know that every moment with you is my Valentine’s Day. I love you more than words can say.”

His words hit you straight in the heart. You feel overwhelmed with emotion, but the only response you have inside is one: “I love you, Jobe. You are everything to me.”

He embraces you, holding you tightly as though he wants to stop time. The world around you seems to vanish, and the only place that exists is the one you’re in, here in this corner of London. When he pulls away, his eyes shine with an affection that makes your heart beat even faster. “We’re perfect together, aren’t we?” he says with a sweet smile, and you can’t do anything but nod.

“Perfect,” you reply, your heart full of happiness and love.

And as you walk away hand in hand under the London sky, the world seems to be your stage, and every step is a memory you’ll carry with you forever.

[plutosillywrites]

part 2 of plus sized! reader who gets swooped up by the boys in the bar..

CW: oralf!receiving, themes of sex, 5some basically lol, 18+!

after successfully slotting you thigh to thigh against Gaz and John, across the booth sits Johnny, and Simon. you can’t help but feel a little squirmy being squeezed between two muscular men.

Gaz is a cheeky shit, hand placed daringly on your thigh, rubbing back and forth. “so,” Gaz starts turning his focus to you— as does the rest of them. “can i get the honor of knowing your name?” you say your name to the group, and hear an echo of their names back.

“you guys have such handsome names..” you smile, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “that’s awful sweet coming from you, love.” says john, and ohhh fuck—

your daddy issues have never been more apparent than now when you look at him, greying and gruff in all the right places. you look away— your face heating up so quick that you’re just a tad embarrassed.

“haha.. thank you..” you say, nervousness dripping in your words, you look towards simon and johnny, and you’re taken aback—

simon’s eyes are piercing, gorgeous, and completely focused on you and you alone. “you are a fuckin’ stunning lass.” johnny says, his eyes also trained on you.

you smile, sheepish— and you closely resemble charlie browns wobbly smile, “thank you.. you’re all making me blush.” you say, like they don’t already know—

the smirk they’re all wearing tells you it all.

“can’t blame us for thinking a bird like you is just so pretty…” simon trails off, and you feel gaz’s hand slide farther up your thigh, until you feel it stop right before your core..

“if you don’t want me to do this— tell me now,” you don’t move to say no, in fact you position your legs for him to have better access. “..want it— but i wanna lay on a comfy bed.. please.” this earns a laugh from the group, and gaz (much to your dismay) removes his hand and fixes your dress.

one by one you all slid out from the booth, before you can ask whose place we’re going to the boys are already tugging you towards their car, john in the drivers seat, gaz in the passenger. in the back it consists of johnny, you, and then simon. and they take full advantage of having you to themselves.

johnny leans over, after buckling all three of you, his lips dusting over the shell of your ear. “aye, lass.. you might drive me fuckin’ crazy..” before leaving soft kisses down your throat.

and simon leaves no time to waste, sucking hard on the other side of your neck— which is sure to leave marks in the morning, (are you really complaining though.. no.) his hand making its way to push up your dress.

his hand falters, only waiting obediently for your approval— and you can’t barely think with two hot men kissing and sucking on your neck. “please— please touch me—“ you rasp out, pants and quiet moans leaving your lips as johnny continue his ruthless attack on your neck.

“are you guys leaving us out?” gaz says from the front— but you can tell from his voice that he doesn’t feel offended at all, in fact, you can see him looking from the corner of his eye.

tilting your head back and grinding into simon’s hand, as he’s slipped it into your pretty black lace panties, rubbing softly at your bud, tight circles that leave you almost breathless.

johnny makes quick work too, tilting your head towards him so he can capture your lips in a kiss that has your head spinning and your hand trapping at his jacket. his jungles against your lips “you taste so good bonnie.”

the car stops, and you only realize it has when johnny breaks away and simon’s pulls away from your neck and underwear, you let out a whine of protest but get silence with a light pat to your thigh. “patience— you’ll get what you want, lovie.” simon’s whispers out, restraint evident in his voice.

the boys usher you out of the car and into their shared home, and as soon as that door closes you can bet your ass they’re hands are all over you, john is kissing you with such passion you can’t even tell whose hands are whose that are touching you.

your moans against john’s lips as he leads you to the bed room, pulling away with a grin— “you are so needy.. poor thing needs to be fucked real good, doesn’t she?” and you nod your head, quickly— it’s been far too long since anyone good had touched you, let alone 4 fucking men.

simon lays down and tugs you down on top of him, you with your dress on partly unzipped, you try to reach behind you but simon stops you, slowly unzipping your dress, sliding your sleek black dress of your body.

simon’s hands travel up your chest, grabbing your pretty tits in your lacy black bra in the palms of his hands, “so fucking gorgeous..” his whispers in your ear, and when your readjust in his lap— you can feel just how attracted he his to you too with his hard on. “i.. ah- could say the exact same to you..” and you can feel his smile on your skin.

your trance is broken when you feel hand nudging your knees apart, and you see johnny knelt between your legs, behind him gaz and john are in a heated kiss, and you feel a tingling sensation in your stomach, “wait- wait, are you sure?” you ask johnny.

the last couple guys you were with were barely men clearly, not wanting to go anywhere near your pussy unless it meant getting their dick wet— but johnny? johnny is different, (a real man) and he is insulted you’d assume such a thing.

“am i sure? darlin’.. is the sky blue?” he says, nipping and kissing at your thighs, before looking up at you with the eyes of a beggar. “please, wanna taste you bonnie.. wanna make you feel so good.” you breath gets caught in your throat, and you feel simon reach and grab your legs— holding them apart perfectly for johnny. “cmon, love.. let ‘im have a taste. i know i want one too..”

you sigh blissfully, before nodding, your lips parted in a euphoric expression. “please johnny.. want you to—“ and he cuts you off with a long lick with his tongue bottom to top across your clothed pussy, causing a sharp gasp from you at the feeling. he smiles and latches his lips to your bud through your panties, sucking and licking at it.

you squirm and pitchy, sweet whines leave your throat as simon tilts your head down, making you watch johnny, gaz and john slide on either side of you.

you grind against johnnys tongue until you feel him remove himself, you moan and whimper, “why— why’d you stop? so close— wanna cum..” you whine, rolling your hips in a circle which causes johnny to grab your love handles. “the boys want a turn too.. would be so mean of you to deny them your tasty cunt, lassie…” johnny murmurs, sliding from your legs and letting gaz take his place.

“yeah, baby, i wanna make you moan for me too.. so unfair.” gaz says with a faux pout, but you know it’s just a facade, your eyes are watery and you’re still trying to move your hips. “please- please, touch me again!” gaz laughs, his head ducking to your cunt, grappling the hem of your panties with his teeth and pulling them down and off, tossing them somewhere in the room.

his tongue gives soft kitten licks at your bud, finger teasing softly at your hole, slick and sticky from how wet you are, you let out a whimper, your hips rolling in a circle on his tongue and fingers.

he tuts at your whines before giving in and sliding his fingers inside, one at first and adding more as he goes, each thrust hitting that spot deep inside which has your brain turning to mush, soft gasp turn to erratic moans leaving your pretty parted lips.

“don’t stop— please, almost there..” your voice trails off into a long whine, but gaz removes his lips and his fingers regretfully from your core, leaving a trail of kisses on your thighs. “wouldn’t be fair if i let you cum before john and simon got to try..” he sits up and you see john towering behind him, his eyes greedy and hungry.

you let your hand travel down your body, resting right before your core. your eyes lidded, with a dark look. “john.. wanna feel you.. please?” you say, your voice soft like silk to him, he crawls up to you a laugh escaping his throat.

“how could i say no to you, love?” he says, his tongue gently playing at your hole, teasing, taunting.. you lean your head back against simon’s shoulder, moans and mewls leaving your lips as your hands go towards johns hair, you feel another hand slowly inching down towards your core.

you look down and realizes it’s simon’s, his fingers rubbing soft but tight circles on your clit, pressing soft kisses to your crown. “so pretty, love.” simon mumbles.

your moans and erratic breathes quicken, your hand reaching out for simon’s thigh. “oh- oh fuck, so close, please.. please!” you roll your hips on simon’s fingers and johns tongue.

you feel john groan against your core, his tongue going quicker and hitting that spot deep inside, simon’s fingers work at your bud rapidly, “c’mon, lovie.. doin’ so good for us, cum for us.”

your rolling hips come to a stop, your breathe hitches and that tight rope in your core snaps, cumming on their tongue and fingers, you slump into simon’s body. clenching pathetically on john’s tongue when he tries to pull away.

when you look around you notice johnny and gaz are somewhere else— and they come back with new clothes and a wet clothe to wipe you down, and you smile meekly at them.

“thank you..” you say, a tiredness overcoming you as you try to blink it away. they laugh breathlessly and wipe you down, johnny sliding on some boxers onto you after. “anythin’ love. you name it, we’ll get it.” they say, putting a shirt on you and curling up at your sides.

you look at them questionably, “don’t you want me to pay you all back?” some frown at your comment, before johnny pipes up. “we wanted to make you feel good— you were our focus. c’mon.. wanna cuddle n sleep now. m’kay?” he says, voice drawing off into a yawn. simon’s voice catches your attention, “because, you’re ours now— we’ve got all the time in the world to have you.. properly.” he whispers.

you smile, and a blush dusts your cheeks, before sliding off simon and onto your side. you lay curled between all these men, who seemed to care for you and have a deep fondness too. you’re in paradise.. and frankly never want to leave.

pt 1 https://www.tumblr.com/plutosillywrites/775042858040311808/imagine-plus-sizereader-going-to-the-bar-for-a

(an// hi !! i hope you guys enjoyed and this lives up to your expectations:3 )

[final-sarcastination]

Incredibly self-righteous response, that by structure of argumentation illustrates that you're not actually curious to receive a serious response to your question about the differentiation between Jews and zionists in antizionist circles, but that you are just aiming to "demask" what you already assumed are antisemites. Despite the dishonesty of your intention in your question, I'll walk you through it.

The meme itself is ridiculous - statements like "everyone does this and nobody does this" are automatically an incorrect statement and, and pertaining this statement in particular -nobody wants to support Jews- it's factually untrue. Speaking in the case of Germany, but also many other western countries, there are plenty of initiatives, civil and otherwise, supporting jewish communities, speaking out for their protection, and also initiatives of government-linked institutions in support of Israel. Now, this is where it gets tricky, because by way of (legal) definitions, at least in Germany, the differentiation between antisemitism and the opposition of zionist and Israeli political interests has been blended, and that on purpose. For example, to gain German citizenship, you have to agree in the citizenship test with zionist talking points, presented and labeled as support and protection of Jewish life.

It might feel to you like nobody wants to support Jews, it's valid to have such a feeling, especially being influenced by zionist rhetoric that continually re-iterates that everyone's out to harm Jewish people. Historic persecution of Jews, especially through particular groups, but also political and religious movements using them as scapegoats throughout history has created profound trauma, generational trauma, for Jewish people. I'm not trying to discredit the impact of that. But zionists prey on that trauma, and the still very real threat to Jewish communities and individuals today from certain political movements or ideologically motivated groups of people, which does in fact need to be addressed, to gain support for their hateful and divisive ideology. Zionism is an ideology, not a religion or an ethnic group or a cultural heritage. Zionists want Jewish people to feel isolated from the rest of the world to make them feel unsafe and hopeless and so that they will turn to zionism in the belief that is what will protect them. Zionists want to minimise the visibility of the support of Jewish citizens that does exist in the public, the "silent majority", to support this narrative. And memes like the one you made do exactly that! Erase the fact that support of Jewish people in the public exists. By creating memes like this, you are looking to divide, and looking to make Jews feel isolated. Instead of curiously inquiring the reason for these responses - people recognising this meme as zionist propaganda - you are looking to find "proof" that antizionists are in fact, secretly, antisemites.

The critical difference between Jews and Zionists is that Jews are an ethnic, religious and cultural group, and Zionists are people who believe in the ideology of zionism. Many, if not most, zionists are Jews. A Jewish person cannot change being a Jewish person, but they can change what ideology they believe in. But by blurring those definitions, by presenting zionism as a quality of Judaism, they purposely create the Illusion that being against zionist ideology means you're against Jewish people for being Jewish, which they cannot change, meaning they aren't accepted due to qualities they can change, meaning it is hopeless to gain support from those who oppose them, and minimising the responsibility Jewish people have to reflect on their own behaviour (like everyone else is responsible for), if they can just deflect to "oh you hate me cause I'm a Jew".

To illustrate that dynamic, I wanna tell you a story I personally witnessed a few years ago. At a music festival, a guy came up to a young pretty woman working as a barmade at the cocktail bar. He kept talking to her while she was working, distracting her from the customers, getting into her personal space over the side of the counter. She listened to him, and obviously, the whole line waiting for their drinks heard what he was saying and watched what he was doing as well. He volunteered the fact that he was Jewish, without prompting for it, and complained people constantly attack him for being a Jew, he ranted about several instances he claimed to have experienced just this weekend. He came really close to her and was holding up the line. The barmaid politely told him she has to work, to give her physical space, trying not to offend him. He ignored all that and kept talking, hitting on her as well. She politely said she has a boyfriend. The people standing around the bar grew more and more annoyed at his behaviour (holding up the line, not respecting the boundaries the barmaid was trying to set, and also whining about how much of a victim is in life) but nobody said anything. At some point a man who had been standing next to the bar with his friends for over an hour called out to him saying "Hey, please leave her alone and leave, stop holding up the line" and he said "she's chatting with me, don't get involved" and he said "she told you several times she doesn't have time to chat". The Jewish guy started to aggressively discuss with him, insulting him, and then said "you're an antisemite, you just can't stand me cause I'm a jew!" And the other guy shouted back "I don't care that you're a Jew, I can't stand you cause you're an asshole!"

To come back in circle, Jews are people who are responsible for their behaviour and their ideology just like everyone else. You can't act like an asshole and then claim the reason people oppose you is your ethnicity or religion. By putting the label "jewish" on what really is "zionism" Jewish and non-Jewish people are purposely confused to protect zionists behind the label of protection of Jewish life, and also to make Jewish people feel isolated and unsupported by non-jewish public. It is also used to suppress public opposition of zionism under the guise of protecting Jewish life.

Protecting Jewish life is of high importance, as Jewish people deserve to live in peace and freedom just as every other ethnic or social group (just as much, meaning not at the expense or detriment of other groups). Jewish zionists also have the power to change what they believe in and how they act and they are responsible for their beliefs and their behaviour, and are to be held responsible for them. At the same time, antisemitism, meaning the opposition of Jewish people based on their religion or ethnicity, is a very real issue that needs to be addressed as well, but it needs to be clearly separated from the opposition of the IDEOLOGY of zionism.

So the reason why I responded to your meme by mentioning zionists is not because I believe that Jews are by definition zionists or that the terms are interchangeable, it's because "nobody wants to support Jews" is a false statement used by zionists as propaganda to make Jews feel unsafe and isolated and push them towards zionism, and also because it's a tactic for zionists to claim their lack of support in leftist circles is not due to their ideology and behaviour, but due to them being Jewish. And we don't fall for this. You're the one who is demasked for spreading zionist propaganda.

everyone wants to punch nazis but nobody wants to help the people nazis want to slaughter.

[lepidopterium]

Video originally from Bisan Owda's Instagram page, posted on February 10th, 2025

Transcript:

Hi everyone, this is Bisan from Gaza. I am still alive, and it's been a while since the last time I posted.

I was just trying to realize the new reality. You know, there's no bombing, but a lot of restrictions in the movement. No supplies, no Internet, no electricity, massive destruction we need to deal with...yeah, and a lot of things.

But I have a lot of updates, [of course] besides the, you know, the bullshit about the German guy (Donald Trump) meeting the Polish occupier (Benjamin Netanyahu) discussing on a stolen land, the Turtle Island, that Gazans must flee their land so other random rich people can sit in.

Besides all of this, the updates are:

First, the Israeli army withdrew from Netzarim checkpoint. So, actually for 15 months they have been telling the world that this is a strategic step, and they will not withdraw from Netzarim crosspoint, and that they will allow the settlers, the Israeli settlers, to enter to the settlements in Gaza Strip using this road. But Subhanallah, Subhanallah, they withdrew and the landowners got back to their lands in the north and around Netzarim checkpoint. That's the first thing.

The second thing is that, OK, OK… [Like], the world happily celebrated the ceasefire, the moments of joy while Palestinians are returning, are claiming their homes, while we're crying, happiness tears, but now it's time to point again to to the main problem.

Actually, we are still in… We're still facing the same dangerous displacement and, let me say, forcibly immigration, actually. It's not a voluntary immigration because there is no rebuilding. There's not even tents for people to survive this winter, to survive the new getting back to their…to the north, to their areas, but… in other words, displacement, because no homes to get back to.

So we're still living this. It's really hard to survive this.

So now it's time, first, to put Israel, the Israeli regime, the Israeli occupation, accountable for all of this, to put the Polish guy (Benjamin Netanyahu) discussing the fleeing, the emptying of Gaza Strip, in jail because this is his place, because he's a war criminal. This is time to rebuild Gaza. This is time to enter Gaza by foreign workers, by [foreign] journalists, by the people of Gaza who evacuated during the genocide, and now until this moment, they cannot get back to Gaza again.

So this is, yeah, this is time. [Enough]. Enough cheering, enough happiness, because what happened and what's still happening is a genocide, OK? It's not a turn off-turn on mode. No, no, no. It's a genocide. And everyone must be accountable for what they have done.

The occupation, the international organizations, the occupation, the [genocide] supporters... Even the companies that supported the genocide, supported the weapons, supported the the Israeli regime economically. So it's time.

If it's not time now, then it will not be the time to put all of these people, to hold all of them responsible. And another thing, if we didn't do it now, then everything we have done as Palestinians, and you have done as people supporting the Palestinian people, is in vain. Everything is for nothing.

We don't want to just forget what what they have done, what the Israeli army has done, what the Israeli regime, ministers, supporters, what the U.S., what everyone [who] funded the genocide has done, okay?

It's time to hold them responsible to make sure that this will not happen again, and that Gaza and Palestine will just be free and will be rebuilt.

[Let's go], let's continue.

end of transcript

source from Bisan Owda's instagram page

Bisan supports Ela Elna Elak, an on the ground organization providing food, water, and other resources, including temporary classrooms, to rebuild the Gaza Strip.

You can support them and follow their work at this link.

You can follow their work on Instagram as well.

[w0rmss]

Hi! Would you write a smut oneshot of Bruce Wayne just playing with reader’s clit for his own amusement? I feel like he would 100% trace his name with his tongue ahhh

He would he so so would and thank you for the request

Tw: orgasm denial oral(f) slight sub/dom use off baby girl and nicknames like that afab reader

Enjoy

Bruce had been between your thighs for hours. His hands keeping your legs open to the point your hips hurt. A puddle had formed under you from how wet you were between your arousal and his saliva. "Bruce." You whine trying to push his head away. He laughed which only made the sensation worse. "What baby girl to much... you can take it." The billionaire goes right back to his meal faster than before.

Your back arches when his tongue finds your clit. "Fuck fuck fuck." You squeak let's pushing against his hands to close. Then you realise, the mother fucker his writing his name with his tongue. Not just burce but his full fucking name. Bruce Thomas Wayne. "Bruce please." You whine grinding your face against his nose. He just hums around your clit, the vibrations sending pleasure through you. You're so close to the point you start seeing stars. Then he stops.

You shoot up and glare at him. "Bruce!" The man just smirks and kisses your inner thigh. "What pretty baby... what do you want. Tell me." He continues to litter your thigh in kisses occasionally kissing your puffy overstimulated bud. "I I... mmmm." You flop back on the bed and grumble. "I wanna cum." "What was that pretty girl?" Bruce gives your clit a hard suck causing you to gasp. "What do you want gorgeous." He asks again sterner this time, and your slightly embarrassed to admit, it's hot. "I wanna cum... please." That's all Bruce wanted.

The man dove head first into your core lapping up all the juices and sucking your clit like it was his job. Your legs clamped around his head and your hands pulled at his dark hair to bring him closer. Soon your orgasms crashed over you amd Bruce's expert lounge helped you ride out ever last wave. "Oh fuck." You whine your breath coming out in gasps as bruce licks up every last drop like a dehydrated man. "Happy baby." He kisses up your body to your lips so you can taste yourself off his tongue. "Very." You hum into his lips. "Good cause I'm not done with you." He grinds his hard cock into your overstimulated pussy and you know it's gonna be a long night.

Hope you guys enjoyed. I love Bruce so much it's not funny.

Anyways keep requesting please I'll get to them eventually thank you so much

[tsukisangel]

on top of the world <3

you sat on the bench as the coach was talking to the players about the upcoming games. you listened, trying to figure out what would be important for you to do. you studied the team’s faces, especially bokuto’s, making sure none of them seemed discouraged. bokuto did seem a bit upset over something. you couldn’t exactly tell what. you’d have to ask. the coach finished his talk, handing you the clipboard. then he was off with a short goodbye, and the players started to clean up the gym. you looked at the clipboard, humming a bit. then you set it down, trying to help the guys clean up. they never let you. bokuto insisted that you never had to help them clean up. you weren’t the one playing, they were. the others listened to him and agreed with him. sometimes you were surprised that he was captain, but other times it just seemed right for him. he was childish at times, sure, but he was definitely a good leader to his team. you sort of had a crush on him. that was definitely not important though.

you watched as they cleaned up, making a list in your phone’s notes to keep track of the things you’d need to do for the upcoming games. once they were done, they all went over to the locker rooms to get changed. all except bokuto and akaashi. you looked at them, seeing bokuto talking to akaashi about something. akaashi shook his head at him and gave him a sympathetic look, then walked away to the lockers. bokuto’s face fell, and he looked around. his eyes caught yours, and you walked over to him. “what’s wrong?” you asked.

“i need to practice my spikes more. i need more practice.” he said. “akaashi has to study tonight, so he can’t help.” he pouted.

you examined his pouty, sad face. well, you didn’t have anything important to study for. you’d done most of your homework while waiting for practice to get started. “i could help.” you offered, smiling warmly at him. “i might not play volleyball, but maybe i can be of some assistance.”

his eyes brightened and his frown turned into a wide grin. “really?” he asked excitedly.

“yeah.” you shrugged, spotting akaashi walk out of the locker rooms. “i’m not a nerd like akaashi.” you teased him, looking over at him. he rolled his eyes with a smile.

“thanks!” bokuto said happily, getting the basket with the balls. the rest of the guys started coming out, murmuring about bokuto still training, and staying after practice again. you shot them all a warning look. they quieted. they were his friends. they knew he’d do these things. he wasn’t forcing them to stay after, so what was the problem? you waved at all of them as they walked out, and they waved back and continued their original conversations.

you stood next to the basket. “you just want me to throw them to you?” you asked.

he nodded. “yeah. you’ve seen ‘kaashi do it, right?” he asked.

“uh, yeah.” you said. he seemed like he doubted it a bit, but he got in position anyway. you picked up the ball and threw it towards him clumsily. he didn’t hit it, but that was definitely your fault. 

he went over to you after grabbing the ball. “let me show you.” he said. you nodded, watching him throw the ball. “like that! does that help?” he asked. he was never good with words.

you picked up a ball, and threw it how he showed you. you were still a little clumsy, but your arms just needed to get used to the movements. “was that good?” you asked.

“yeah! perfect!” he grinned, grabbing both balls and setting them back in the basket. then he got in position.

you threw a ball to him again, and this time he hit it perfectly. he didn’t seem happy, so you kept throwing balls his way. you both kept going for an hour and a half, until bokuto sat down on the floor after a line shot that seemed like it hurt to hit, bringing his knees up with his arms lazily wrapped around them, only connecting by his fingertips due to how wide his legs were spread. his hair was losing it’s spikiness, strands starting to fall down over his face and sticking out of place. you furrowed your brows, walking over to him and sitting  next to him. “bokuto… is everything alright?” you asked.

“we’re going to nationals.” he said, only facing the floor. “and i’m not ready.” he said. 

“you’ve been to nationals before.” you said, a bit confused. “what’s the problem now?”

“this is my last one.” he muttered. “this is my last one and i have to do good or i can’t go pro.”

“you’re one of the top five aces in the country! the whole country.” you said. “you’re going to go pro whether you guys win or lose.” you put a hand on his shoulder. “don’t psych yourself out. you’ve been so excited.”

he finally turned his head up to look at you, resting it on his bicep. “you’ll be there?” he asked.

you smiled. “i’ll be there. i’ll be right next to you guys, watching from as close as i possibly can.” you reassured him. “you’ll hear me cheer for you.”

he lifted his head up, moving his hand to hold yours. his legs fell from the movement. he pulled you just slightly closer to him, and you heard your heartbeat in your chest. “i don’t want to disappoint you.” he muttered.

you shook your head. “you could never disappoint me.” you said softly, trying to hide the trembling in your voice as he got even closer. your breathing picked up, and you hoped he didn’t notice.

he held your now shaky hand in one hand, and moved another up to your cheek, holding it so softly, so gently, like you could break. your breath hitched, and he froze. you leaned into his touch though, assuring him that it was okay for him to go on. he looked in your eyes, then down to your lips. “thanks for being here.” he breathed.

“i’m always gonna be here.” you breathed back at him.

you felt his lips brush against yours as he slowly moved closer to yours. “you make me feel like i’m on top of the world.” he said.

this was the calmest and quietest you’d seen him for this much time. it could’ve been minutes, but it felt like hours.

then he closed the gap, and his lips were against yours. he was so gentle with you. his hand holding yours moved to hold your waist instead, to pull you against him. your hands moved to the back of his neck, holding him close to you. once he pulled away from you, you blushed. you could not believe what had just happened. he just grinned wide at you, which made your thoughts float away like butterflies.

you smiled. “confidence restored?” you asked.

“you kiddin’? it hardly left!” you laughed a bit, rolling your eyes at him. he stood and offered a hand to you. you gladly took it, standing up. “i’ll walk you home, let me clean up!” he said, rushing to clean up.

you moved to help, but of course he didn’t let you, so you just sat down and watched him. he threw the volleyballs into the basket, showing off to you and making you laugh. then he rushed to the locker rooms, probably rushed to change, and walked out, completely composed. 

you raised a brow at him as he walked over to you, holding his hand out for you to take. “my lady?” he offered.

you grinned. “thank you.” you took his hand, and he walked you home while holding your hand the whole way. you pressed a kiss to his cheek as a goodbye, and saw him grin and blush as he walked home.

[dandysworldhcs]

LET US OUT OF THE CELLAR!!! We want to have lives!!!! Also I’d like some shrimpo hcs please

- 🌈🌸 anon, very much stuck in the basement

No.... you gotta stay in containment.... sorry bro...

Shrimpo... let's see here!

I like to imagine he's roughly based off of a Freshwater Dwarf Shrimp!

This species specifically, I believe, is called either the Crystal Red Shrimp or the Red Bee Shrimp!

2. Freshwater Dwarf Shrimp are most commonly omnivorous! Shrimpo seems like the type to stock up on a lot of protein. You see, I really like fish, so when I get the opportunity to be specific, I seize it! I'm aware Shrimpo is necessarily just a shrimp TAIL, but come on! You can't tell me this little guy wouldn't be an amazing fit for him!

3. Oxygen content and water being at the perfect balance is a really important survival requirement for shrimp, so I like to think he would routinely soak in water for a few hours before heading back out into the oxygen due to this important ratio. He probably denies wanting to go into the water because -- presumably, if non-mains have handlers -- his handler tells him to, and as we know, he is defiant and a hater, but he would actually enjoy the soak.

4. When he sees vegetation in water, like in aquariums, he likely feels oddly reminiscent with no real idea why -- and this is because a lot of the habitats shrimp are found in are filled with dense and diverse vegetation!

5. Shrimp typically have a keen sense of predator avoidance, and considering Shrimpo is a shrimp as well, I like to imagine that he has a very strong sense of what danger lurks nearby, almost like a spidey-sense of sorts!

6. He probably doesn't ACTUALLY hate everyone and everything -- I've seen a lot of neurodivergent Shrimpo headcanons and honestly, I agree. He likely doesn't know how to properly regulate his own emotions or how to express them properly, and I presume he's constantly wondering how and why he manages to be so angered, irritated, or agitated all the time.

7. ^^ Continuation, he also may just have his guard up due to some kind of trauma or unknown reason as well. It's common to lash out at others due to your walls being too far up! He's learning to lower them still... be patient...

8. Hi. This little shrimp guy is so neat to me. Ignore my essay!

[not-neverland06]

ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴏʏ ɴᴇxᴛ ᴅᴏᴏʀ

͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝖲𝗍𝗎 𝖬𝖺���𝗁𝖾𝗋 x fem!reader

╔═ A/N ═╗ Based on this request. I apologize if I got the characterization wrong. I just feel like the darker side to his character is never properly explored. As goofy as he was, he was also a serial killer lmao

✬ Summary ✬ Stu's your best friend, you know him as well as you know yourself. At least you thought so. A snoop through his closet leads to a terrifying discovery. Now, everywhere you turn, that haunting mask is right there waiting.

“God,” you toss the remote on the cushion beside you. It bounces off the oversized couch and flops to the floor. “There’s nothing on TV,” you lament, draping yourself dramatically over the cushions. 

Stu snickers and kicks his legs over the arms of his chair, shrugging with a smug look. “I told you we should have stopped by the video store.” His gaze drifts back toward the TV, grimacing at the obnoxiously loud MTV episode you stopped on. 

“Hell no, Randy’s working tonight,” you scold, sharp gaze snapping toward him. He’s got a stupid grin on his face, clearly having decided that his form of entertainment tonight is going to be pissing you off. “I don’t feel like having him critique me for an hour on my poor taste in movies.”

He snorts and reaches to take a large handful out of the popcorn on the coffee table between you. “Maybe if you didn’t just rent stupid chick flicks all the time, he wouldn’t.” 

Stu doesn’t have time to duck as you chuck one of his mom’s overpriced throw pillows at him. “Don’t act like you don’t love Pretty in Pink.” The pillow knocks the popcorn out of his hand, scattering it across the ornate rug Mrs. Macher bought last week. If she saw the state you’d gotten the house in this weekend, that ever-pulsing vein in her head would burst. As it is, they’re never actually at the house, it’s an oasis for practically half the school during the weekends Stu decides to throw a party. 

For the first time in a while, though, it’s just you and Stu. No one else is here to rile him up or force him to put on a show. He’s at his calmest when it’s just the two of you. Which, honestly, doesn’t mean much for him, but still. 

“I do not,” he objects, stretching out his lanky body and getting to his feet. 

You roll your head lazily to face him, giving him a knowing smirk. “Billy isn’t here, Stu. You don’t have to lie,” you assure him, holding out your arms as he stops in front of you. You already know what he wants, he’s got that specific gleam in his eye as he smiles down at you. 

“I mean,” he shrugs, “it’s not bad,” he concedes. Without another word, he throws himself on top of you, even prepared for it, you still feel the breath rush out in one hefty wheeze. Another thing you don’t see as much when others are around, just how goddamn clingy he is. 

Sure, with his multitude of girlfriends, he’s touchy. But this is something different entirely. He clings to you like he would burrow into your skin if he could. He’s been that way since you guys were kids. While the feeling of others touching you might set you on edge, Stu fits against you like your missing piece. 

Hands drifting up to play with his hair, you settle yourself against the cushions while he goes back to channel surfing, pleased to have you as his pillow. 

The TV drones on, a dull buzz in the background now that Stu has the volume down. With his head practically buried between your boobs and your legs wrapped around his waist, you snicker. 

Frowning, he props his chin on your chest, staring up at you. “What?” He demands, hating to be left out of a joke. 

“Nothing,” you shrug as much as you can with him steadily pancaking you. “Just wondering what your girlfriend would think of us like this.”

“Oh,” he sets his head back down and places your hands back on his head to continue playing with his hair. “We broke up,” he tells you, like it means absolutely nothing. 

“Stu!” You slap his shoulder, and he winces dramatically. As if you could ever do real damage to him. 

“Ow!” He whines, bracketing himself up on his elbows so he can look down at you. “What’s your problem tonight?”

His hips are still lazily pressed against you, pressure increasing the longer he hovers above you. Swallowing thickly, you try to ignore the flush spreading through you. “You didn’t tell me you guys broke up.”

He rolls his eyes, glaring down at you. “I just did,” he points out sarcastically. You swat at his shoulder again, but this time, he catches your hand in his, lacing your fingers together with a smug grin as he keeps you trapped. 

“You’re collecting these girls like they’re trading cards.” Despite his tight grip, you manage to slip out slightly from under him and prop yourself against the arm of the couch. “I don’t even remember the last one’s name.”

His face goes slack, lips parting as you see the cogs in his brain turning. He laughs and glances back at you with a dismissive shrug. “Neither do I. I just remember the tits.”

“Ugh,” you yank your hand out of his, ignoring his petulant frown. “You’re absolutely disgusting. What’s the point of even dating them?”

He slinks back against the other end of the couch. “I just said why,” he points to your chest with a grin, and you reflexively cross your arms. Stu tips his head back, dangling it over the edge as he stares up at the ceiling with a forlorn sigh. “I don’t get it,” he tosses his hands up, and you already know where this is going. 

Head tipped back up, he narrows his eyes at you, “I don’t know why we don’t just date.”

You give him a deadpan look, arms still tight around your chest. “Dude,” you chide, “after what you just told me. Seriously?” When you were younger, him saying this used to set you alight. You’d get all dreamy-eyed, imagining what it would be like to be Stu’s girlfriend. Of course, you’d taken too long thinking about it, and by then, he’d already found a different girl to set his sights on. It had broken your heart, and their relationship had barely even lasted a week. 

By now, you know better than to take anything he says seriously. Everything’s just one big joke to him. He’s so fickle you can’t trust that he would actually put effort into anything more blooming between you. You seem to be the only girl in his life that he actually thinks of as a person, going on a few dates with him isn’t worth screwing that up. Besides that, you’re not going to ruin the only friendship you’ve ever had that’s lasted more than two months. 

Stu opens his mouth like he wants to say anything, but it snaps shut a moment later. His face sets into a glower, and you worry for a moment that you might have actually hurt his feelings. You’ve always thought the suggestion was just a sort of inside joke between the two of you. Though, he has been bringing it up more and more lately. 

Your stomach flips unpleasantly, heart aching with guilt. It doesn’t last long, the feeling always remains fleeting. You’ve conditioned yourself for years to dismiss anything that might actually encourage you to pursue something with Stu. You love him, but you two would just be a spark waiting to light up. 

“You’re staying the night, right?” Stu changes the subject, picking up the remote once more and not meeting your eye. Your lips part, and he cuts a glare toward you, “No girlfriend,” he stops you before you can even say anything. Your brows furrow, and he looks back to the TV. “No sleepovers if I’m dating,” he mocks the pitch of your voice, reminding you of the rule you'd enforced so long ago. Your lips fall in a flat, irritated line at his imitation of you. 

“No girlfriend,” he reminds you, feigning indifference even though you can see right through him. Your plan was to go home, but you know him well enough by now. The set of his jaw, the stubborn way he won’t look at you, there’s no actual choice. You’re staying.

“Yeah,” you acquiesce with a low huff. “I’ll need to borrow some clothes.”

“You know where they are,” he tells you, still not meeting your eye. He’s never been this sensitive after you’ve rejected him before. What’s his problem? Eyes narrowed, you get to your feet, glaring at him the whole way up the stairs. He never loses the indifferent look, passive-aggressively turning the TV up. 

Usually, you just grab some pants from the guest room. But with Autumn descending, it’s been getting colder, especially in Stu’s drafty old house. There’s a soft yellow sweater that you’ve always tried to steal from him, and he’s never let you get away with it. 

Nabbing it would probably ease up the weird tension. He is a freak, he does love seeing you in his clothes. You figure it’s a solid plan and slip across the hallway, quietly opening his bedroom door. 

As always, his room is a hot damn mess. The bed’s unmade, sheets completely untucked, and half of them sprawled across the floor. There’s a clearly well-loved nudie mag lying open on his nightstand, boobs bared boldly to the world. Rolling your eyes, you shake your head and turn toward his closet. 

Your brows furrow, head tilting at the closed door. As odd as it is, Stu never closes his closet. It’s just another tedious task to him. Besides, he likes to just ball all his clothes up and toss them in wildly. You know his family’s old maid threatened to quit if she had to clean his room ever again. But you wouldn’t believe that looking into the closet now. 

It’s not just clean, it’s pristine. Clothes hung up, sorted by color and sleeve length. Jeans all neatly folded away. The box of old books and junk he had just lying about are tucked up on the top shelf. “What the hell?” You whisper, looking around like you just stepped into Narnia. 

Hell, maybe it’s a portal to a bizarro dimension, it would make more sense than him cleaning up after himself. Whatever, you don’t have time to dwell on Stu’s oddities, you’d just be standing here forever if you did. 

You start in the yellow section of his closet, then drift toward the sweaters. And, of course, the only one you want isn’t anywhere to be found. It has to be buried somewhere in here, and you’re not giving up until that sweater is yours. You dig through his folded pile of jeans recklessly, hoping for a bright spot of yellow to be buried somewhere within them. 

Tugging a little too hard on one of the stacks, something hard clatters against the wooden floor of his closet. “Ah, shit,” you hiss, shoving the jeans back and kneeling to try and spot whatever fell. Lowering your head to the ground, you peer under the hems of his shirts on the lower rack and squint into the shadows. 

There’s a vague shape of something, and you reach toward it. Head tilted the other way, your arm stretches under the sweaters, blindly groping for whatever you sent tumbling. Your fingers snag on fabric, and you grin, thinking it’s the sweater you’ve been coveting. 

Pulling it out, your smile stills, heart rapidly increasing speed until it feels like it’s going to beat out of your ribs. There’s a twisting pain in your stomach, anguish and immediate denial flooding through you as you stare down at the mask in your hands. 

It’s just a cheap drugstore mask. Around Halloween, you could find it anywhere. You could easily dismiss it as something Stu bought as a fucked up joke. Were it not for the flaking copper on the chin of the howling mask. Your fingers tighten around it until you think it might crack. 

Slowly, you tilt your head back toward the shirts. This wasn’t what fell. A part of you screams to just chuck the mask back and pretend you never saw it. You could go downstairs, continue your movie night with Stu, and pass out beside him on the couch. Lying to yourself would be so damn easy. It’s just a mask, half the guys in school bought one because they thought it was a fucking joke. 

But your body isn’t interested in weak excuses. Bowing over, your hand swipes across the wood once more, wrapping around the object that fell. Before you even drag it out, you already know what you’re going to see. A pulsing pain spreads through your chest, eyes watering as you stare down at the knife in your hand. 

A serrated hunting knife, to be exact. The same one Dewey said was used to kill Casey only a week ago. God, how had you not seen this? How could you have been so blind?

Stu had been the number one suspect, but Billy had been his alibi, no one could place him at the scene of the crime.

There has always been something twisted about Billy. It only got worse when his mom left. Maybe this was all his idea, maybe Stu was just dragged into this, but he doesn’t really want-

Your thoughts fade into a dull silence in the back of your mind. There’s no excuse. Stu has always been different, just slightly off. His jokes nearing the wrong side of dark. But you never would have thought him capable of something so brutal. 

Footsteps sound up the stairs, and your brain shocks itself awake. Quickly, you toss the mask back under the clothes and shove the knife into the jeans. Wiping your eyes, you leap to your feet and rush out of the closet just as Stu barrels into his room. 

The both of you pause, staring blankly at each other. You, a deer caught in a hunter’s snare. He, the drooling wolf, waiting to pounce. 

Slowly, his eyes drift toward the closet, the light you left on, and the door you hadn’t had time to close. He turns back to you, and something twisted curls at the edges of his lips. Adrenaline shoots so fast through you it nearly knocks you off your feet. 

“Looking for something?” His tone is light, barely audible, as he takes a step closer. It takes every ounce of self-control not to back away from him. 

Something too strained to be a smile curls your lips up. “Um,” you lick your lips, swallowing down the dryness coating your tongue. You laugh nervously and take a step toward his bed. “Just that sweater I love. 

He stalks towards you, and your eyes widen, heart fluttering in your chest. Just when you think he might run you over, he steps around you and heads toward his dresser. You turn, afraid to take your eyes off of him. 

Peeking above the corner of a drawer is a yellow sleeve. He slips it out easily, holding it out to you with a grin that shows off all his teeth. “Thank you,” you whisper, voice cracking around the words as you snatch the sweater out of his hands. 

“I made more popcorn,” he tells you, eyes wild as he stares down at you. “Halloween’s on.” It’s a simple invitation to a movie, but it feels like there’s a knife to your back. You have no choice but to step out of the room and head down the stairs. Every bit of you screams to act natural, to pretend that there’s nothing wrong. 

How could you be? Your best friend, the boy you’re practically in love with, is slaughtering your friends. He’s running rampant through your town and killing girls just because they broke up with him. 

Risking a glance over your shoulder, you see him already looking at you. The smile is gone, now he’s just watching you with this bemused expression, like he’s waiting for you to break and make a run for it. 

You take a seat on the couch, lean against the pillows, and glue your eyes to the screen. Suddenly, Jamie Lee Curtis babysitting is the most interesting thing in the world to you. Stu takes his seat beside you, sinking into your side and wrapping his arms around your waist. Stiff as a board, you can’t find it in you to return the touch, too petrified by the thought of all the blood on his hands. 

He doesn’t care for your trepidation, taking your arms and wrapping them around himself. He presses his face into the crook of your neck, lips brushing against the sensitive skin as he speaks. “What’s your favorite scary movie?”

Avoiding Stu has been easier than you thought it would. Usually, he’s more persistent in making you hang out with him. Especially when your parents are both out of town at the same time. But he’s been suspiciously quiet since you prematurely ended your weekend stay last week. 

You managed to make it through the night. Though, while Stu dozed on top of you, you had been wide awake. Limbs stiff, eyes unblinking, the whole night had been spent on high alert. You’re not sure if he knows you know, or just suspects it. Either way, you should have turned him in by now. 

The second you left his house, you should have gone straight to the sheriff. You know who's behind the Woodsboro murders. You know who the infamous Ghostface is, and have a suspicion who his other half might be. You could have stopped all this. 

Casey and Steve would be avenged. If you had something, another person wouldn’t have been killed two days ago. You didn’t know him personally, you’d never even seen Stu or Billy interact with him. But this felt less like an attack on him and more like a threat for you. 

Keep quiet, or you’ll be strung up by your intestines. 

Triple checking all your doors and windows are locked, you head upstairs to your room. Prepared to camp out for another sleepless night. If you turned him in, you wouldn’t have to live with this paranoia anymore. Every corner you turn wouldn’t be prefaced with the idea that he might be waiting behind it. No matter how hard you try, you can’t pick up the phone and call the cops. 

You lay back on your bed, listening to the radio in the hopes it might lull you to sleep. It never works, but you hold out hope. The shrill ring of your home phone echoes throughout your empty home. Sitting up on your elbows, you glare at your closed door like it might shut the damn thing up. 

Abruptly, it cuts off. The empty halls of your home fall silent once more, the low droning of your radio barely audible above the blood rushing through your head. You hold your breath, eyes peeled on the door in front of you, waiting for… something. 

The phone goes off again, and you jump, shooting off your bed and grabbing the bat by your nightstand. Slowly, you open your door, peeking your head out before you attempt to cross the hall to your parent’s room. There’s a phone in there, and you’re more comfortable up here than you are beside your glass patio doors downstairs. 

You practically kick the door open, jumping inside the room like you’re prepared to bludgeon someone with your bat. The shadows are thick inside, but you don’t see a cloaked figure waiting for you within one. Feeling confident enough, you run toward your parent’s nightstand and grab the phone. Running back to your room as fast as you can and slamming the door closed behind you, you sink to the floor. 

Thumb hovering over the button, you let out a shaky breath and answer. “Hello?” You try and instill confidence in your voice, but you can’t hide the tremor. 

“Hey,” Billy’s voice croons on the other end, he says your name, and a shudder rolls down your spine. 

“Billy?” His name is a hoarse croak as you feel your heart thud dully inside your chest. “What’s up?”

“I just wanted to tell you something.” He pauses, and you bite your lip, nails digging into your palms as you wait for him to speak. “I’ve always wondered,” there’s a click, and then a raspier, unfamiliar voice speaks, “what do your insides look like?”

Something slams against your front door, and you drop the phone with a shrill scream, jumping to your feet and whirling around. You hear Billy’s distorted cackle echo through the speaker before abruptly cutting off. On the floor, three low beeps sound out. Bending down, you pick up the bulky phone and press it to your ear. Nothing but white noise. You toss the phone on your bed and swallow down another scream. No service. 

You’re all alone. 

The startling realization of silence rushes over you, gooseflesh rises along your arms, the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. The banging downstairs has quieted and your house is once more silent. But it’s no longer the same vacant stillness it was before. There’s someone here, it’s an instinctive feeling. Long buried prey instincts warning you of a predator sniffing you out.  

Creeping quietly across the floor, you avoid the creaky wood that would give your movements away and once more open the door. It seems foolish to put yourself so boldly out in the open. Being cornered in that room is no better. No matter what, it’s just you and him all alone out here. 

You wonder, as you peek your head around the banister, if this is just Stu stalking you. Is Billy getting rid of a liability? Is it both of them?

One, you could handle on your own. But if it was the both of them, the only thing you could do was go down swinging. If you were going to die tonight, you weren’t going to let it be easy for either of them. 

Your front door is wide open, an easy escape. There was no point in running. Either one of them is waiting outside for you, or they’ve cut the brakes on your car. You crouch, peering through the railings and silently making your way down the stairs. Try as you might, you don’t see signs that anyone has come inside. 

Besides the door, there are no clues to give away where they might have gone. You don’t want to play the role of the bimbo in their sick fantasy. Despite the instinct to call out for someone, you swallow it down and continue through your home. 

Beyond the stark terror of facing your own mortality, there is also the pain of being so thoroughly betrayed by Stu. You know the truth of what he is, of what Billy is. And you kept it quiet. You buried his dark secret like it was your own, protected him. This is how he repays you?

This is his answer after years of you loving him. How could he?

You stand in the middle of your living room, bat hanging limp by your side. The aching pain of grief and fear stills your body. The fight wanes inside you, debating whether or not prolonging this is worth it. The others all fought back, and they died bloody. Maybe if you just gave in, it would be quick, painless. Stu could at least grant you that. 

There’s a brief flash of movement in the reflection of your patio door. It’s slight, like a shifting shadow. Only one thing gives him away, the white, howling mask. Instinct overrides sensitivities, you whip around, bat flying. There’s a low groan as it smashes over his head. 

Reaching up, he snatches it in his hand, using it to jerk you forward. You’re quick to let it go. Instead, you aim for his throat. Hands outstretched as you reach up, gripping his neck as tight as you can. There’s shock in his stuttered breaths, like he hadn’t thought you would fight back. You were beginning to doubt yourself, too. 

Turns out you’re too stubborn to die. 

The bat clacks loudly against the wood as he stumbles back into your mother’s glass coffee table. His legs kick up, tripping you and sending you stumbling into his chest. The both of you go plummeting backward, glass shattering around him and the wood crumpling like a tower of cards. 

Jagged shards cut at your arms and bare legs, but you know he takes the brunt of it. Your grip on his throat is unrelenting, you pick his head up and slam it against the wood. He lets out a dazed groan, and you would laugh were you not trying to stop your best friend from killing you. He seems ridiculous, wearing this stupid cheap mask and moaning like a cartoon character with a bump on their head. 

He bucks under you, hips pressing up against yours as he flips you both over. Pain rips through your back as the glass digs into your skin. Letting out a low whine, your hands slack on him for just a moment. It’s still long enough for him to get the upper hand. 

He straddles your waist, pinning you below him with his weight as he kneels on your swinging arms. You’re utterly paralyzed, with no other choice but to stare up at him as tears stream, hot and slick, down your cheeks. 

Stu rips his mask off, eyes wild as he grins down at you. “Damn, sweetheart,” he laughs, and it only makes you fight harder against him. Screaming through your teeth as you try to buck him off of you. “Didn’t know you had it in you.”

He tosses the mask to the side and motions to the knife in his hand, “Surprise,” he practically sings the word, watching for your reaction. You bite your tongue, hiccuping on a sob as you stare up at him through blurry eyes. “Right,” he concedes, tilting his head, “you already knew.”

You can feel the blood pooling beneath you, the glass digging further into your shredded skin. It only makes this all the more unbearable. “Stop,” you beg, voice breaking as you struggle to hold back the tears. “I didn’t tell,” you shout at him. “Why are you doing this?” The tears break around the rage slipping through your voice as you glare up at him. 

“What are you talking about?” He snaps, his amusement waning the harder you cry. 

“Billy!” you shout the name out, just barely managing to wiggle one wrist free. He snatches it up instantly, the knife falling beside you as he leans over you, digging your hand into the glass above your head. “He said you wanted to see my insides,” there’s no controlling the sobs now. You don’t want to die. You don’t want Stu to be the one to kill you. Somehow, though, you think this would have hurt worse if it was Billy holding the knife. 

Stu’s face falls before quickly twisting up into something angry. He backs off, easing his weight just enough for the press of glass to sting a little less. “No,” he utters, shaking his head. “No, that’s not the plan.” 

Stu looks nearly manic as he stares down at you. Something unfurls inside you, years of friendship have you reaching up with your free hand. You don’t know what your plan is until he’s leaning into your touch, eyes never leaving yours. 

His hand grips your waist, easing you into a sitting position. You want to curl up into a ball and go hide in a dark corner. You want to shove glass down his throat and run. The knife looks particularly appealing beside you. 

But you do none of that. You let him tug you closer, hand tightening to the point of pain around your waist, but you don’t think he realizes, and you’re too afraid to point it out. “You’re our final girl, baby,” he practically fucking giggles, and you struggle not to flinch from the sound. “He was just fucking with you.”

“Yeah?” You snap, fingers trailing toward his hair and yanking until his face crinkles with pain. “Then what the fuck,” venom coats your tongue, voice low and deadly, “are you doing right now?”

He smiles, leaning into the way you rip at his hair. “Screwing around,” he laughs, and he sounds like a goddamn idiot. Scoffing, you release him, jerking out of his grip and ignoring the way it pulls at the wounds on your back. 

“God,” you crumple into yourself, shoulders hunching forward as you hide your face behind your hands. “I can’t believe I ever thought you could love me. You’re sick, Stu,” you snap, holding back more tears. 

Blood and glass surround you both, the shattered fragments of your friendship. Stu looks more hurt than when you strangled him. He reaches for you, and you jump back, shaking your head. ‘I was never going to kill you,” he swears. But what does the promise of a murderer mean to you?

“I don’t believe you,” voice a whisper, the tears spill over once more. He looks between you and the knife like he can’t decide what to do. You wait for it, for the snap before he just plunges the knife into your gut. Twisting it and dragging your death on. 

Instead, he lunges forward, wrapping his arms around yours and forcing you into his embrace. “Stop,” you claw weakly at his shoulders, snagging your nails in the cheap cloak. You shake your head, but the fight is over before it even begins. Your arms curl around his neck, and you sink into his familiar embrace. 

His gloved hand skates over the wounds on your back, and you whine, arching away from his touch. He offers a whispered apology, but you don’t believe it. “Billy’s not going to touch you,” he swears. “I’m never going to hurt you.”

“You already have.”

His arms only tighten around you, pulling you into his lap as you cry. You might not believe him, but he knows the truth of it. You’re his best friend. The only person besides Billy he’s ever actually cared about. 

You are his perfect final girl, and he’s never going to let you go. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the movie Scream, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[fiveredlights]

Loved it!!!! Is there any Benjamin POV of when he found out Max and Daniel were drivers in this world? Like any thought process? It surprised me too that they weren't in his world haha. Thanks for sharing!

okay i managed 400 words of benjamin arriving in the universe and then my brain continued on its holiday in aruba so i’ve written out what would’ve happened afterwards

It's not like Benjamin expected there to be a whole parade when he landed into his DAUD universe, but a room full of people staring at him like he's an alien from another planet feels a little weird.

Technically, he is an alien from outer space—if you equate an alien to a life form, and the other planet is true, but at that point they should consider that we’re all aliens in a planet floating around the universe and there’s no need to stare at him like that.

Or really, they aren’t staring at him. They’re staring at the name emblazoned into his race suit. Or the flag. Maybe they’re struggling to understand why the Dutch and Australian flags are mashed together.

Benjamin worked really hard to get the team and the FIA to approve that. He had to do a whole presentation.

One of the people—his boss he assumes, given that he’s one of the two people to be wearing RB shirts—takes a slow step forward, adjusting the black rounded frames on his face.

“Benjamin—” Ooh, French, “—Ricciardo-Verstappen,” he states, though it’s really more like a question.

“Yeah.” He steps out of the portal tube. “Did I get sent to the wrong universe or?”

“Maybe,” someone in a Red Bull shirt quietly mutters and the other RB shirt guy hits him in the shoulder and scolds, “Christian.”

He has no idea who this Christian guy is but he knows he already doesn’t like him. Giving off bad energy, or whatever Julian uses as an excuse whenever he meets someone he doesn’t like.

“I’m Laurent Mekies, I’m your team principal,” the French—Laurent says. “Can we just confirm who your parents are?”

Everyone in the room seems to lean in and hold their breath. Benjamin thinks they’re all really weird. “Daniel Ricciardo and Max Verstappen. They live in Monaco, or well in my universe they live in Monaco, so maybe they’re in the Netherlands or Australia here.”

Laurent immediately spins onto his heels and they all form some sort of emotional support huddle, like they’re the ones who got sent through to another universe.

“I’ll get Max,” Christian sighs and points a finger at Laurent. “You’re calling Daniel.”

Laurent tenses. “I don’t want to call Daniel. Why can’t you call Daniel? You knew him longer?”

Christian goes very quiet. “I think he’s blocked my number,” he says with no room for further questions as he walks out of the room.

—

benjamin has found a wheely chair to spin around the room in whilst laurent peter and helmut (idk if he's here) debate on who is calling daniel, benjamin's like "I can call Daniel if you don't want to break the news," and frankly it's a bit concerning how three of these very grown men look very ready to take this offer.

eventually someone is like, you know what. we'll get MAX to call him. daniel will answer max's calls and they leave benjamin in the room with laurent whilst the rest of them look in the mirror and wonder what they need to do to atone for this hell-ish situation they've been placed in.

(there is no atonement possible. you must live in the decisions you made. no amount of apologies or prayers will be able to heal the deep, deep scars you have given. zero love and zero light will be given.)

“So Max works here or?” benjamin asks, if only to make small talk so they’re not sitting in silence. laurent takes a very long look, he's confused. he tells him that of course Max works here, he's a driver?? but reigns it in because maybe benjamin was asking if max was at some different RBR factory. or maybe he's asking because he thinks max is in monaco, laurent doesn't possess the brain cells needed right now.

benjamin is thinking oh maybe max's a sim driver. or a test driver. he knows that max's father was a f1 driver, but doesn't really know much else. nowhere in benjamin's brain is the thought that max is a formula 1 driver, and certainly nowhere in benjamin's brain is the thought that he's a 4x WDC.

max walks in, looks at benjamin. benjamin looks back. max walks out.

he walks in again. looks at benjamin again. walks out again.

he walks in again. is about to walk out when benjamin's like, "You know walking out for the third time doesn't activate me being sent back to my universe?"

(internally, max is like, oh my god. he talks exactly like daniel. i'm looking at another daniel. which you know. a little bit insane given that i wrote benjamin to look like max, and benjamin wouldn't really sound like daniel accent wise at least, given that they raised the kids in monaco, but you know. maybe the speech patterns are similar, who the fuck knows. easier to see the parts of the person you love than yourself in your kid. can't blame him, daniel did the exact same thing for like the whole fic.)

max immediately looks around at the whole group of people and does a head nod for benjamin to follow him into his office, and it’s probably not until he sees the replica WDC trophy sitting on a bookcase with max’s name inscribed on it benjamin’s like what the fuck…

in his head benjamin is like, i am hiding the fact that i am shocked about max being a driver so well. he’s not. he’s kinda just staring at the trophy but max is way too distracted about the fact that alternate him had a kid (emphasis on kid, singular) with daniel.

benjamin is stalking around the room looking at EVERYTHING, and he catches the photo of max and daniel in malaysia 2016 and is even more like what the fuck… BOTH of my parents are drivers?????

first thought: they’re both horrible normal road car drivers. maybe it makes sense now.

second thought: god it’s so cool that his parents (or this version of his parents) are formula 1 drivers. that’s like so arguably cool. suck it julian, he KNEW doing the DAUD program was a good thing. 

third thought: do they know sebastian vettel.

in this moment he has decided that this max and daniel cannot know that his max and daniel aren’t drivers. he kinda suspects that max might be going through a quick existential crisis and he’s not making it bigger by telling 4x WDC max that his max is a 0x WDC and has never driven a f1 car in his life. 

(also it has not crossed his mind that this max and daniel are not together. if you saw that photo of malaysia with max looking at daniel doing the shoey like he wants to jump his bones in public, yeah i wouldn’t question it either and end that line of thought immediately.)

i’m learning very quickly that benjamin processes things so quickly that he doesn’t really have time to freak out.

max is processing everything and benjamin is like “are you gonna call dad or?? where is he??”

max: dad?

benjamin: yeah. dad. daniel. this tall. your husband. or partner idk i don’t know, i’m not gonna assume. oh god are you guys broken up here please don’t tell me that. i mean like tell me, but like that’s so weird.

max kinda looks embarrassed and benjamin clocks him so quickly. 

benjamin: oh. you two aren’t together here. you two have never been together here.

max: … yeah

benjamin is immediately like fuck everything about them being drivers what do you MEAN they aren’t together???? he looks at the malaysia photo again. looks at max again. 

benjamin then decided his only goal is to parent trap his parents. which i think he did achieve. good job dude.

[hello-gloomy]

Not Everyone Is a Genius

Dr. Xeno Houston Wingfield x Neutral!Reader

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

Description: You be honest to Xeno to what's on your mind and his answer surprises you.

Warnings: Slight angst, mild horny, SCIENCE, maybe OOC of course. SPOLIERS FOR THE MANGA.

A/N: If your not far in the manga or season 4 anime deffo don't read this it's probably only mild Mentions of stuff but still just to be safe, also Xe might be a bit OOC.

Word: 700

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

"What are you doing?" Xeno asks as he walks entirely inside your shared bedroom to get a better look at your current position on the floor. Your back is against the floor, and your legs are pressed upwards against the wall. You twist your head away from the book you were writing to look at him; you don't feel as dizzy as you would be if you were hanging upside down.

"Letting the blood rush down my legs so they don't hurt, " you deadpan, tiredly. All this moon mission madness has everyone working to death 24/7 with hardly any breaks, and it's starting to get exhausting. But nobody has the heart to ask the science group to slow down a bit, especially not since everyone is finally on good terms with Stanley after the original debacle.

He hums while removing his gloves and setting them on the dresser near where you lie. "Elevating your feet allows gravity to reduce excess fluid from your legs back into your heart," he starts, and you can't help but smile at his small lecture, his voice soothing your stress-induced headache. Closing your eyes and breathing deeply, you let him move around the room and finish talking about the benefits of your actions, swaying you into calmness. You only open your eyes when you hear him groan quietly and sit down upright against the wall where your legs rest, his bare hand smoothing over the skin of your calves, then to the swell of your thighs, and lastly to your sternum. You throw a hand over your face and let out a little whimper at his touch.

"How was your day?" he asks quietly, continuing to rub your legs. You sigh through your nose and uncover your eyes to look at his pale face, tracing your eyes over the 'X.' marking its upper half; you chew your lip before mumbling out a half-assed 'fine' to him and turning your head away.

"Did you know your heart rate increases when you lie?" he asks, subtly rubbing your wrist now, which makes your heart jump in your chest more so than when you lied to him.

"Do you want to tell me what's wrong, or should I go about this using a trial and error method as I usually do?" He puts his hand beside your head, leaning over you and giving you options.

"I'm tired, Xeno," You blink back the tears before continuing, "So fucking tired and in pain. This space mission you guys have planned is draining; I know it may not seem that way to all you science guys in the lab, but to all of us that you have been doing all the manual labor for this project is getting exhausting, not just me but for everyone as well. Morale is low, and it's getting harder to ignore." You vent, your body aching just thinking about the rest of the endeavor you must deal with; you spare him a glance and see him watching you intently.

"I'm sorry." You snap your head up in surprise and slip your legs off at the words that just came from him; he moves to hold both of your hands in his, rubbing at them before looking back up at you.

"I'll talk to Senku and the others about taking a short break for morale." You blink in surprise, taken aback by how easily he came to this conclusion. He laughs lightly at your reaction before pulling you in for a kiss. This was a different man from the one you knew a few years ago, and it made you happy to see him changing for the better, mellowing out a bit for your sake. You wipe your eyes before pressing your forehead to his and smiling at the man you chose to fall in love with.

"Would you like to take a bath, my dear?"

"In a 'horny' way or like 'I'll take care of you' kind of way?" You jest gently, and he, in turn, covers his mouth in silent laughter.

"Whichever gets you to produce plenty of oxytocin."

"I love it when you talk dirty to me." He starts full-on dying at that.

[allthingsfangirl101]

Familiar Faces Part 2 – Jake Seresin

Part 1

Even though I wasn't training Jake and his team, the Admirals kept me on as their efficiency expert. Their big mission was two weeks away, and the trainees were getting more anxious.

After Maverick decided who would fly with him, I worried about Jake. But he seemed okay with it. He's still been training with everyone, but he claimed there wasn't as much pressure.

Plus, we started going out and got into a routine. After training, we'd pick up dinner and go back to my place. He'd end up staying so late that I didn't want him driving back to his apartment so he'd stay over. We'd fall asleep holding each other and wake up the same way. It was perfect and everything I wanted when we first met.

Until. . .

It's been a while since I had a nightmare I couldn't pull myself out of. Jake didn't know about my nightmares and ever since we started going out, I've been too embarrassed to tell him. All the nights he's slept over, I've barely slept in fear of him finding out.

Tonight, I couldn't stop it.

I woke up to someone shaking me and calling out my name. I gasped awake, a sob getting stuck in my throat. I looked around the room, my eyes taking a second to adjust to the lack of light in the room.

"Y/N?" Jake's soft voice whispered.

"Jake?" I had to double-check.

"Yeah," he said with a soft smile on his face. He reached over and cupped my face in his hand. "It's me, baby."

His eyes softened when he saw the tears in my eyes. I heard him sigh as he wrapped his arms around me, pulled me into his chest, and laid us down.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asked once we were comfortable.

"It's nothing," I lied.

"Come on, Y/N," he sighed. "It took me almost ten minutes to wake you up. It was not nothing. Please, talk to me."

"It was about my mission," I whispered, my voice breaking. Jake didn't respond. Instead, he tightened his arms around me.

"Replay or worse version?"

"Kinda replay," I shrugged, "with a bit of pausing and replaying."

"Okay, you lost me," he said with a soft chuckle. I smiled a little but couldn't make myself laugh.

"In my dream, I kept trying to turn my plane away from the training facility," I said, my voice breaking at the end. "Every time I did, I was suddenly facing it again. Nothing I did worked."

As the tears burned my eyes, I tucked deeper into his side, burying my face in his shoulder. He reached up and started running his fingers through my hair.

"I'm sorry the Navy made you do that," he whispered. "I wish there was something I could've done."

"I wish you were with me," I mumbled.

"Me too," he sighed.

"There was something else," I said slowly.

"In your dream?" He asked, looking down at me. "What is it?"

"I dreamt about you."

"Y/N. . ."

"I dreamt about your upcoming mission," I continued, my voice breaking. "I dreamt that you guys went off and. . . it took a horrible turn and. . . You didn't come home to me. And I watched it from base, not able to do anything as you were shot down."

By the end of it, I broke into a sob. I curled more into him as I sobbed, "I can't lose you, Jake."

"You won't, Y/N," he said gently. "I promise. You are not going to lose me. Besides, I'm just the extra."

I know he was trying to make me feel better, but it didn't work. "If they need you, you have to go, Jake. No arguing. If they tell you to go, you go. You don't have a choice. Just because you're the spare doesn't mean you won't ever leave the ship. And when they send you, I can't stop them. I have to sit back and watch you go. I have to listen as you fly off. I have to sit back and I can't help you if you get into trouble. I have to just listen and watch that damn bubble as I lose you."

"Firefly," he cut me off using my callsign. He sat up, pulling me with him. He grabbed my hands and turned me toward him. "Truth is, we don't know what's going to happen in three days. We don't know if they're going to need me. The only thing that matters is that I know what I'm doing and I will do everything I can to make sure everyone on my team gets home."

"Including you?"

Jake smiled softly as he grabbed my face and pressed his lips to mine. The kiss was soft and slow. When he broke the kiss, he leaned his forehead against mine.

"Including me."

* * * * *

I walked into base, my exhaustion from last night weighing me down. After my nightmare, we stayed up talking. I tried to get Jake to go to bed, but he was more focused on me.

"You okay, Y/L/N?" Captain Phillips asked as I walked into our shared office.

"I'm fine," I shrugged off. He gently grabbed my arm, stopping me from going to my desk.

"What's wrong, Y/N?"

"I just. . . I didn't sleep that well," I said slowly. As soon as I said it, the look in his eyes fell.

"Nightmares?"

"Yes," I said softly as I pulled my arm out of his grasp and walked over to my desk. I sat down as he followed me.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Maverick asked gently.

"Jake talked me through it." My heart jumped into my throat when I realized what I said. "He talked me through it because. . . I had called him and. . ."

"It's okay," Maverick chuckled. "I know that you and Hangman are dating."

"Wait, you know?"

"I do," he smiled at me. "Hangman came to see me after you two first got together. He was worried that your being together would get you fired. He wanted to discuss it with me and ensure it was okay."

"I can't believe he told you," I said under my breath.

"He's crazy about you," Maverick said in a soft, fatherly tone. "Ever since you joined us, he's been different. He's been more focused, more driven, and less competitive. He's trying to prove himself without showboating. He's trying to be a better pilot, a better man, for you."

I looked down in hopes of hiding my blush. Maverick started to walk out of the office and stopped to pat me on the shoulder and whisper, "You've changed him, Y/N. In a good way."

I kept thinking about Maverick and my conversation throughout the rest of the day. As Maverick did some final training, I busied myself with running final checks on the planes and their systems.

Three days later, the team was to fly their mission. I walked through the ship, unable to calm myself. I figured that remaining in motion would help me not think about the possible risk.

I was passing the bunks when I was suddenly pulled into one of the rooms. I had just enough time to see that it was Jake before he pulled me close and pressed his lips to mine. As I slowly kissed him back, my heart sank into my stomach as I realized there was a chance that this would be our last kiss.

"What are you doing?" I gasped when he broke the kiss. "You're supposed to be getting your plane ready."

"I know," he smirked as he pulled me closer. "I just wanted to see my girl in case. . ."

"Don't," I cut him off and pulled away from him. I replaced his arms with mine. "I can't think about that, Jake. I can't think about the possibility of losing you."

"Baby," he said, dropping his voice to a whisper as he pulled me back. "I promise you that I will be careful."

"I know you will," I whispered back to him. I looked up at him, unable to stop myself. "I just can't lose you, Jake. I. . . I love you."

"I love you too, Y/N," he smiled. He slowly leaned in and pressed his lips to mine. I threw my arms around him and started kissing him back. I forced ourselves to break the kiss before we could get too into it.

"Because you love me, I need you to be smart. I know you will do everything you can to help your team but. . ."

"I will do whatever it takes to come home to you, Y/N," he gently cut me off. He smiled as he added, "I love you, Firefly."

"I love you too, Serendipity."

* * * * *

As I sat in the control room, anxiously bouncing my knee. It felt like it didn't take long for things to go wrong.

"Dagger Two defending," Rooster said. "Shit, I'm out of flares!"

"Rooster, evade, evade!" Maverick yelled.

"I can't shake 'em! They're on me! They're on me!"

Maverick moved to be above Rooster and set off his flares, blocking Rooster from the SAMs. When he was hit, the room went silent.

"Mav! No!"

"Dagger One is hit!" Phoenix yelled. "I repeat, Dagger One is hit. Maverick is down."

"Dagger One, status," Rooster tried to request. "Status! Dagger One, come in!"

"I didn't see a parachute," Payback said.

"We have to circle back," Rooster demanded.

"Comanche. Bandits inbound. Single group, hot. Recommend Dagger flow south. One minute to intercept."

"Get em' back to the carrier now," Admiral Simpson instructed.

"All Daggers flow to ECP. You have bandits headed for you."

"What about Maverick?" Rooster asked.

"Tell him there's nothing he can do for Maverick, not in a damn F-18," Admiral Simpson commanded.

"Dagger Spare request permission to launch and fly air cover."

My heart jumped into my throat as I heard Jake's request. I held my breath, waiting for their approval. I looked and watched as Admiral Simpson shook his head.

"Negative, Spare."

I could practically see Jake angrily grumbling in his plane. Today was a reminder of why working for the Navy was so painful.

"Launch search and rescue," Admiral Bates commanded.

"Negative," Admiral Simpson said quickly. "Not with bandits in the air."

"But, sir, Maverick is still out there," Hondo said.

"We are not losing anyone else today," Admiral Simpson snapped. "Get them home, now."

"Dagger, you are not to engage. Repeat, do not engage. Dagger Two, return to carrier. Acknowledge."

They were greeted with nothing but silence.

"Acknowledge," they tried again.

"Rooster, those bandits are closing," Phoenix sighed. "We can't go back."

"Rooster, he's gone," Bob said quietly. "Maverick's gone."

* * * * *

We had no idea what happened next. Until. . .

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen."

"No," I mumbled. I turned toward Hondo with my heart in my throat. He reached over and gently grabbed my hand.

"Son of a bitch," we heard Rooster laugh.

"This is your savior speaking," Hangman continued. I knew he was joking but every word made my heart sink. "Please fasten your seat belts, return your tray tables to their locked and upright positions, and prepare for landing."

"Hey, Hangman," Rooster smirked, "you look good."

"I am good, Rooster," Hangman said instantly. "I'm very good. I'll see you back on deck."

"Damn it, Jake," I whispered under my breath. Unable to control my anger or calm my nerves, I left the control room.

I nervously paced as I waited for their planes to return. I watched as each one of the pilots came back.

The second I saw Jake's plane land, I felt like my heart was finally out of my throat. Tears burned my eyes as I saw him climbing out of his plane. My legs felt numb as I walked out to the tarmac. The second he jumped down from his plane, I saw Jake's eyes search for me.

When his eyes fell on mine, he smiled but I couldn't bring myself to return it. With his helmet in his hand, he walked over to me.

"I should be angry with you," I said, my voice breaking as tears started streaming down my face, "but I'm just relieved you're back."

Jake laughed as I jumped and wrapped my arms around his neck. We could hear everyone rushing to help Maverick and Rooster but all I could focus on was Jake in my arms.

"I'm sorry, love," he whispered subconsciously tightening his arms around me. "But when we thought we lost them both. . . I had to see for myself. I couldn't sit in my plane on the ship and do nothing."

"I know," I whispered as I started running my fingers through his hair. I smirked before adding, "Whatever happened to leaving your wingman out to dry?"

"What can I say?" He laughed as he broke the hug and looked down at me. "Love has the ability to change even the douchiest of douchebags."

I pouted as I tucked back into Jake's arms. "You're not a douche," I mumbled. "You were never like that with me."

[bullet-prooflove]

Can I get "desperate love confession" for Tim and Lucky please?

Tagging: @kmc1989 @fallmoreinloveeveryday @elenavampire21 @floralfloyd @lamaudite

Companion piece to:

Lucky - Tim's assignment doesn't go to plan.

Stars - Tim's not like the other guys.

The Good Book - Tim makes you a promise you don't think he can keep.

After Tim’s convoy is blown up, they don’t let you see him.

You’re not on the list, they tell you.

The thing is you know that there is no one on that list. He has no family, his friends were all in the Hummer with him, most of them dead from the IED that blew up the vehicle. There’s just him alone, in a hospital bed with Lord knows what injuries.

You break into the field hospital later that night. You’ve heard he’s going to be airlifted to Germany in the morning. That means his injuries are severe, that they’re require more care than he’ll get out here in a tent situated in the desert. It’s that that frightens you because it means that there’s a very real possibility that you won’t see him again.

He’s unconscious when you slip into the makeshift ward after midnight, attached to a ventilator that’s seen better days. The sheets are drawn up to his waist revealing thick bandages across his chest. Small burns pockmark his shoulders, first degree you think from the cherry red colouring.

You pick up the chart from the end of the bed, studying the information intently.

The worse damage is the shrapnel from the secondary explosion, they’ve managed to remove as much as possible from his chest but there’s a few pieces close to his heart that they don’t have the resources to take out. It’s going to require a major operation with a cardiothoracic surgeon, which is why he’ll be on his way to Germany tomorrow.

It’s bad, you realise as you continue reading. Really fucking bad. If any of that metal inside him shifts, he’s at risk of bleeding into his chest cavity.

“I know we’ve never said it but I love you.” You whisper as you use your fingertips to brush his hair away from his features. “I need you to do your best to get through this surgery, to come back to me.”

You don’t know if he hears it, the sedation he’s under it’s strong. You need him to know that despite the fact you won’t be there, you want to be, that you’re thinking of him even though you’re over 4000 miles apart. You take the black Sharpie out of your pocket and turn his wrist over, drawing a four leaf clover on the underside. You press a kiss to it before you leave, hoping he’ll understand the significance.

It’s thirty six hours later that Tim wakes up in military hospital in Germany. His chest feels like it’s on fire, every breath a labour. He raises his hand to touch the bandages and that’s when he sees it. The black four leaf clover, drawn on his skin.

“Lucky.” He rasps, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“Yes.” The nurse says kindly as she reviews his vitals. “You were very lucky indeed.”

Love Tim? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Before you join the taglist make sure to read the rules here as you otherwise you won't be added.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[bellysoupset]

"So..." Wendy yawned as she settled on the passenger seat of Bella's car, stripping her raincoat and throwing it in the backseat. They drove out of her street, the rain just starting to pelter off, "are we gonna talk about it?"

"The fact you spent two whole days in Doveport babysitting your boyfriend's sidepiece?" Bella snapped and Wendy raised her eyebrows, mouth hanging open at the unwarranted jab.

Bella probably saw her wounded look, because she cringed, squeezing the steering wheel, "sorry..."

"Yeah, damn right you're sorry," Wendy blinked quickly, struggling to regain her composure, "that was so unbelievably rude, Bella."

"I'm sorry," Bell repeated, taking her eyes off the road for a split second, "I didn't mean to hurt you, I just... I don't want to talk about it."

It being the miscarriage. Wendy sighed, deciding to cut her friend some slack given the strenuous circumstances and reached over the handbrake to squeeze Bell's thigh in an amiable manner.

"Okay, we can not talk about it, that's alright... But you're okay? I mean, not emotionally" — it was painfully obvious the answer to that question — "but physically?"

"Yeah," Bella's voice was weirdly chirpy, a tone she never used and Wendy immediately clocked as fake-happy, "I'm alright, it was like having a heavy period," she removed a hand from the steering wheel, running it through her curls, fingers getting all tangled up on the auburn ringlets, "so... Are you gonna tell me about the weekend off?"

Wendy felt a flash of viciousness, thanks to the previous comment, but she swallowed her petty response and looked out of the window as they drove to Luke and Bell's new place, "honestly it was a lot more fun than it should've been, considering the guy broke his ankle."

Bella let out a snort at that, but didn't comment and Wendy continued on to ramble.

"Vince was, of course, beating himself up over Max breaking his ankle. Severe mental gymnastics to carry the weight of the whole world on his shoulders," she rolled her eyes dramatically and Bella let out a little chuckle, visibly relaxing.

"Well, that's Vin for you," she grinned, taking an exit and drumming her fingers on the steering wheel, "he was probably worried out of his mind, he's such a mother hen."

"Yep," Wendy smiled at that, "although Max is really fine, just struggling with learning he can't use the broken foot... It's a shame you didn't get to hang out with him much at the cabin, he's so similar to you. You, but a dude."

"Hot as fuck and a little mean," Bella's smile was genuine now, from ear to ear, "I liked him, even with all the unflattering propaganda Luke was doing of him. Too bad he's four hours over."

"You talk as if it's so far away," Wendy yawned once again, "in fact, have you been to Doveport? Even once?"

Bella seemed taken back by the question, eyebrows jumping up and then she squinted as they stopped on a red light, "no, but you told me I wasn't missing out on anything..." she turned fully to look at Wendy, "did you change your mind?"

"No, the town is boring as hell," Wendy frowned at the weird tone, "but Vince is there and his family is lovely. His mom is teaching me how to cook, she's a blast. Max is a lot of fun too... Really, you guys are all holed up here, but it wouldn't kill you to go over once or twice."

Alright, now she was sounding a little mean, Wendy thought, breathing in as Bella continued to watch her in a flabbergasted manner, "Vince misses you, a lot."

There, the truth, but that wasn't her scolding Bell and the rest of their friend group for sitting on their asses and expecting Vince to always visit when they couldn't be bothered to go to his town even once. She had been subtle enough, right?

The light turned green once more and Bella looked ahead, clearly lost in thought. A heavy silence settled in the car, which Wendy wasn't sure who to blame for, since she hadn't said the quiet part out loud, and they reached a suburban area, filled with pine trees.

"Sure," Bell said, slowing down the car, "you're right. I never been there, you're right."

Okay....

Wendy raised an eyebrow, "I'm right," she echoed, the affirmation sounding like a question and Bella nodded quickly, her curls bouncing.

"Yeah, I'll go over to Doveport. We will go," she promised and Wendy suddenly wasn't so sure if they were talking about the same thing, given how serious Bell sounded.

"Alright," she agreed, confused, "good. That's great..." Wen looked out of her window, "are we here?"

"Next street," Bella's voice was all soft and Wendy was starting to get really unnerved by how out of character her friend was acting. She looked over her shoulder, just in time to see Bella open a big, genuine, smile as they entered the next street.

It was a no exit street and at the very ending of it there was a large sugar maple tree, filled with orange leaves. On each side of the street Wendy could see older, but sturdy houses, none of them too similar, but all sporting a tudor style.

"There," Bell pointed ahead, to the second to last house, "that's ours."

The pride tinging her words was palpable and Wendy felt a knot in her throat as she remembered that two years before she had taken Bella by the hand and helped her pick a tiny condo to live in after a nasty break up. How everything had changed so quickly overnight?

"Oh, it's... Great, actually," Wendy voiced, surprise tinging her words and Bell let out a snort at her tone, parking the car in front of it.

"Didn't you have any faith in me?" She teased, getting out at the same time as Wendy, "it's old, I know-"

"Yep," Wendy popped the P of the word, following the ginger down the limestone path that led to the front door. The front yard was more than overgrown, some weeds reaching about her waist, but Wendy could see the beauty and the potential of it all, "but it's pretty, I'll give you that."

"Right!?" Bella sounded terribly excited as she walked up the eight stone steps that separated the front door from the yard, "it's so charming."

"I was expecting something more... Dramatic," Wendy admitted, taking in the construction. It looked like a stone chateau, with four rounded windows facing the yard and a sunken door, two colonial lamps framing it, "I thought you'd go for a townhouse or a victorian mini mansion."

Bella wrinkled her nose at that, "a mansion? I hate doing chores, why would I get a big place?" she rolled her eyes, opening the front door, "welcome to the Martinez-Atwood home, Ms. Marshall."

Wendy chuckled at her antics, making a big show of taking her first step and Bell followed her, looping their arms together and showing them around.

On the first floor there was a spacious living room with an ancient fireplace, a small extremely dark powder room, a yellow kitchen that was probably a safety hazard with how old it was — one door leading to the dining room, the second one to a mudroom that gave to the backyard and if Wendy thought the front one was in a bad state...

"You need to get that trimmed down, you'll find a whole family of snakes there, Bell," Wendy reprimanded, refusing to step out to the back. On the living room there was a set of stairs, leading to the second floor and Bella gestured for her to follow.

Upstairs there were three bedrooms, although Wendy wouldn't call one of them a bedroom, given how small it was. Between the first two, a small full bathroom, and at the end of the hallway a much larger suite, facing the backyard.

"I'm thinking, this could be a study of some sort?" Bella pointed the small 'bedroom', "I work from home, so this would be neat. Besides, Luke has a million books..." she walked out, entering the second room, "and this one's a guest room-" the for now hung in the air, unspoken but loud and clear, so much so that Bell cleared her throat and turned away from Wendy, "so uhm... You-you better help me decorate it."

"Are you sure? I'll make it pink," Wendy teased her, but her own heart was squeezing as she realized this room was most definitely a nursery in Bell's mind. She wondered if she had known, about the pregnancy, if they had...

"No," Bella shook her head and it took Wen a whole ten seconds to realized she was answering the joke and not the unspoken question, "no pink. But maybe a dark magenta? That would be cool."

"Sure, I can work with that..." Wendy walked around, opening the ancient built in wardrobe, that looked like something out of Narnia, and then out of the window. This room faced the street, Bella's car sitting all alone out there, "Bell..."

As if hearing it in her voice, Bella's head snapped up and she shook it from side to side, "please, don't," her voice was all choked up, "I'm ha- I wanna be happy with this, please don't... Just don't."

Wendy bit down her lip, nodding and opening her arms, "can I have a hug?"

The ginger hesitated, before crossing the room and throwing her arms around Wendy... And then squeezing her so tightly that Wen's air ran out. She squeezed her friend right back, wishing she could comfort her even more than just a hug, but understanding this was all Bell could take at the moment.

"I love you," she mumbled against Bella's curls, on her tiptoes.

Wendy felt a shudder run through her friend and then a small, weak "I love you too" in return. Outside, it started to rain again.