#the whole ‘something pretending to be you’ / ‘something mimicking something but it’s not quite right’ freaks me

[velvetcloxds]

Monique at this point idk what associates with dilf!derek cuz he basically is now with Eli so😆 would you be up for something like Der picking you up from a night out all drunk and he’s all sweet and patient with you?

TIPSY | D.H.

word count: 1k

warnings: reader being a lightweight, mentions alcohol consumption- I included your idea of reader meeting eli as well, fem!reader, age gap

Derek was surprised, to say the least when you told him you were going out for some drinks with Malia, for many reasons but the biggest was the fact that he knew without a doubt that you were a lightweight and in comparison to Malia who quite literally couldn't get drunk, he knew the night wouldn't be ending all that well for you. So, when Malia called saying you refused to let her drive you to her place because you insisted that Derek pick you up, he wasn't surprised and didn't waste much time driving over to the bar to get you.

He heard Malia lovingly reprimanding you before he even turned the corner to see you sat on the curb, twiddling your feet to the beat of the music streaming out from the bar, looking a lovely mess as you hummed along. He couldn't help a small grin at the sight of you, already expecting a rough ride home when you jumped up and stumbled, caught by a very frustrated yet not any less caring Malia who was just as happy as you were when he stopped in front of you.

"Bear," you cooed, excitement earning a little hiccup from you as you reached for him, his arms ready to catch you as you hugged him, hands snaking around his torso as you brushed your face up and down his shirt, unintentionally mimicking a cat, delighted by the fact that he came.

"Hi, honey," he purred right back, a warm hand resting on your lower back as he shook his head, knowing the use of the pet name would keep your dazed mind busy long enough for him to turn his attention to his cousin watching the whole scene play out. "You were supposed to watch her," he reminded her and looked down at you, eyes fighting to stay open as you brought a hand up to fiddle with the zipper of his jacket. "How much did she have to drink?"

"Not enough to have her this drunk," Malia argued and she was right, you'd have defended her if you were more yourself, you truly only had a few cocktails, maybe a few more than you should've but definitely not enough to have you pushing a little past tipsy. "She only had a few of those sweet drinks, she clearly just can't hold her liquor."

"Okay, thank you for calling me and for staying with her, I'll take her to my place," you were happy with that, looking up at him with big eyes and your chin on his shirt as he brushed some smudged mascara from the side of your eye. "You like the sound of that?" he teased and when your smile grew he simply had to kiss your nose, it's boyfriend taxes for having to witness such cuteness without warning.

"Is Eli home?" now, were you sober that question would not have made you excited, were you sober you'd have been completely terrified to officially meet Eli for the first time in this state. You'd heard all about him and him about you, greeted each other over voice notes, or waved at him over facetime before he headed to school, but never the big deal first meeting.

"He is," you gasped, and pulled away, wiping at your face, then softer than a second ago you brought a hand up to wipe at his as well, fixing his beard and nodding when you approved of your work.

"Now we look pretty," you explained and turned to Malia who had assumed you'd forgotten that she was there, to begin with. "Do you want to come to meet Eli too?"

"I think we've had enough Malia time tonight, don't you?" Derek was already searching for his keys in his pocket, a little nod telling Malia that he owes her for looking out for you, the girl giving you a quick side-hug and pretending to ignore you very loudly saying goodbye to her.

It was a mission getting you into the car, you insisted on walking yourself and failing horribly at the act, you'd never really mastered walking in heels sober let alone a little drunk but Derek humored you. However, when you were trying to buckle yourself in with shaky hands and pouted lips he decided to step in.

"You all settled in?" he asked, looking around to make sure you were comfortable, a stray jacket he'd left in the car already propped behind your head and legs folded rather uncomfortably under you.

"Almost," you breathed and he raised a brow at you, curious about what you needed, trying to think of something to use in case you were feeling sick but you simply pouted your lips more, lifting a red-painted finger to point at your lips. "A kiss," you demanded and he would be cruel to make you wait, he wanted to cave instantly, but of course, he didn't.

"You want a kiss?" his hand was still on your stomach from where he held you back to buckle you up and he was happy for that because it gave you an excuse to touch him, both hands gripping his as you nodded. "Alright, since you asked so nicely," and he didn't make you wait any longer, brushing a quick kiss onto your impatient lips.

"Okay, now you can take me home," he laughed lightly at that, squeezing your hand before closing the door and walking around to the other side of the car. You took hold of Derek's hand again as soon as the car started, twisting yourself so you could watch him, the smile not leaving your lips as he drove, not even when you started falling asleep.

Derek carried you into the house, trying to be quiet in the living room but it wasn't much use when he bumped a lamp with your legs, cursing under his breath when the light in the hallway turned on a few seconds later, a tired and confused Eli stumbling into the room.

"Dad?" he was barely awake, looking around for context clues until his eyes landed on you, fast asleep in his dad's arms, snoring lightly and Derek quickly reminded the boy to be quiet. "Is that Y/n?" he asked, much softer this time, with many more questions on the tip of his tongue after his dad nodded. "Is she okay?"

"She's fine, I'm going to get her into bed and then I'll explain," and that's what he did, cooing softly when you moved around after he tucked you in, mumbling incoherently but cuddling further into his pillow, entirely unphased by your surroundings now that you were surrounded entirely by his scent.

"You have a girl in your bed," Eli noted from behind the kitchen counter, a smirk on his face as he took a long sip from his glass, the now empty jug of orange juice standing next to his fisted hand.

"I've never done that before," Derek replied, looking back to make sure he closed the door before joining his son in the kitchen. "I didn't want it to happen like this, I know she didn't either. We had a plan and I was supposed to talk to you about it first."

"It's fine, dad," he sighed, and Derek was surprised to see the smile on his lips, the boy looking rather smug from where he stood. "It's not like it's just some girl, it's Y/n," he stated very lightly, and he'd never say it out loud, but it was annoyingly obvious how much happier his dad was since meeting you and it was even more obvious how much he cared for you. "Your Y/n," he added and Derek wasn't sure his heart could be filled with so much pride because of such a simple sentence but he was wrong, very wrong.

"You'll love her," Derek beamed, in thought really, trying to figure out how to make the next morning as perfect as possible, for you and for Eli. "She's so special, Eli, you'll love her."

"I'm sure I will," he agreed and they shared a light laugh, them having a heart-to-heart was a foreign concept in the Hale house, foreign but entirely welcome. "So should I bring up her being drunk at breakfast?"

"Not if you enjoy living," and Eli knew the man was not kidding.

[dema-heart]

💀=🥃>🍬?

Simon "ghost" riley x gn! reader

Explicit warning. Mentions of spicy nights spent together. Nothing to deceptive but still.

Bar/pub

Mentions of R being harassed but not shown in story.

Drinks/drinking mentioned

Inspired by my too sweet by hozier brainrot

As always, let me know if I messed up somewhere or something doesn't make sense!

“Ghost” Soap nods, patting the man on the shoulder as he sat across from him. Ghost grunted in greeting, his eyes obviously locked on something.

‘Or someone’ Soap thought as he followed his gaze to you.

You were laughing and chatting away at the bar, Gaz laughing along as you probably told another one of your stories. Everyone around you were in high spirits as they usually were around you, even Price was smiling into his glass shaking his head as you talked.

“Quite the Bonnie lad, aye?” Soap spoke quietly to Ghost knowing no one could hear the two but the man across from him would appreciate the secrecy Johnny watched with an amused smirk as Ghost “flinched”, something only knowing eyes could catch.

“Don’t know what you’re on about Johnny”. Ghost grunted. He knew damn well he’d been caught but he’d be damned if he admitted.

He met soap’s grin and raised brow with a neutral look before his eyes slowly drifted back to you at the sound of another loud bout of laughter and chatter.

This time you met his gaze, your smile somehow brightening more, if that was possible. You gave an enthusiastic wave from behind the bar leaning forward to make sure you were seen, causing a few to turn and look, trying to see who caught your attention.

He was debating on his next move. About to pretend it wasn’t him you were waving at, to save his dignity and cover, but the moment your waving slowed a sheepish smile on your face and doubt in your eyes, his hand lifted before he could stop himself pointing to soap and then himself with a slight tilt of his head as if asking who you were waving at.

Ghost watched as your face lit up again, now assuming he had just thought you were waving at someone else and totally wasn't intentionally ignoring you. You nodded your head, waving again and damn the stares he got for waving back. It was worth it for the giddy look on your face.

‘They’re lucky they're cute…’ Ghost thought to himself as he kicked soap’s shoe under the table when he snickered at his quick save.

Someone must have said something as you turned back to making drinks. Shaking his head, he sighed ignoring Price’s raised eyebrow and Gaz’s knowing smirk.

“Don’t know what you’re on about Johnny… yeah right Lt” Soap mocked his early statement mimicking his voice.

Ghost levels soap with an unimpressed look as he listens to the Scot’s, not so bad, impression of him. With a roll of his eyes he gives his full attention to the man in front of him trying to save face as much as he could after that display. Obviously soap wasn't ready to let it go just yet.

“When’d ya get so close with our lovely bartender, ghostie, no use denying it now we all saw the wave and the cute tilt of your head like a confused pup” Soap chuckles when Ghost’s face only hardens as he tried to remember how he'd ended up in this position anyways.

The whole base had decided to have a night out at a local pub, they all frequented as a well earned reward. It was a larger turn out than expected tonight with word having spread quickly and the rumors of the new bartender at the place making everyone curious,You, being said bartender.

You’d somehow won over most of the people from base with your bright smile, playfulness, and all around shining personality. You told stories or sang as if you owed people a show with every drink but best of all you treated them like regular people, even Ghost, who you’d taken one glance at and told to have a seat so you wouldn’t hurt your neck making eye contact with him.There’d been a playful glint in your eyes and complete lack of fear or judgment when the mask hadn’t come off at the bar.

Ghost felt Soap kick his leg under the table, snapping him back to the present. Before he could scold or snap at the man, he felt someone bump him causing him to snap his head to the side, glare harsh for whoever decided to be bold enough to touch him. He was met with your smiling face, a lack of any fear as his glare immediately dropped.

Many men and women had almost shit themselves from a glare like he sent you and you met it with a teasing smile and amused look. He thought with a huff.

“Thought you boys were always aware of your surroundings. Never thought I’d see the day I scared, The Ghost~” you teased in a singsong voice.

‘You’re far too understanding and they read me like a bloody book. Since when were they so attuned to me?’ He thinks,noticing how you’ve shifted from behind him to beside him so he can see you fully, knowing your approach had put him on edge.

Soap’s snicker across from him pulls him from his thoughts as he huffs, leaning back to glare at the sergeant instead.

You smiled cheekily, holding in your own laughter as you stepped forward to place two glasses on the table. You stumble a bit and Ghost's arm is around your waist in an instance to stabilize you.

You shoot him a grateful although sheepish smile as you place the drinks down, but the arm around your waist doesn’t drop instead tugging you back and you instinctively step back into his space, your arm coming to rest on his shoulder as you lean against him slightly, if Soap notices he says nothing, thankfully too.

It’s not long before Ghost catches himself realizing what he's done but instead of startling he lets your hand on the back of his neck ground him.

Your fingers brush the nape of his neck and he’s reminded of your recent nights together.

The image of you on top of him in the shadows of your room as you smile down at him, as your hands tease and touch all he’s willing to give.

The image of you under him reaching up and locking your hands at his nape to keep him close. Fingers trailing under the mask to touch sensitive skin and messy short blonde hair.

The mornings,you’d get him to stay for just a bit, cuddling up to him and kissing him through the soft balaclava he wears around you. Never bothered, it's the only thing that doesn’t come off.

The tap of your middle finger, twice in a short rhythm. A simple code for ‘all clear’, brings him back to now, to the fact he was very much in public with half the damn base around to see him all cuddled up with the bartender.

“The fucker bothering you gone?” he grunts the response out, lowering the arm at your waist to grab the glass in front of him. Going for nonchalance as he felt the stares of people around.

“yeah..thank you and sorry about that Soap. I come to Ghost when any of the patrons get a bit too… pushy?” You take the chair next to Ghost as you answer Soap’s unasked question as he was looking between you two with a raised brow.

“He'll scare them off or let me stick around until they leave, figuring I'm “taken” or realize they won't win the battle against Ghost ” You mumble the rest of your explanation as you lean forward, laying your head on your hands with a tired sigh.

The answer you gave was a half truth, that was how it started. You came to sit with Ghost once when he came alone for a drink one night.

You'd bought him a refill he hadn't ordered and sat down in the chair next to him, pressing up against him as if he wasn't some random customer at the pub. He'd kept his cool as he read the napkin you had placed down with the drink. The words “creep’s been haggling me, sorry” written on it. You had looked up at him with pleading eyes and a nervous smile, scared he'd turn you down or lash out.

Much to your relief, Ghost had nodded before taking a discreet glance around and clocking the bastard easily enough. He’d then leaned his head against yours, glaring at them and all the others watching you till the creep left, and you went back to the bar.

It'd happened quite a few more times since then, each time breaking down his walls around you as you sought him out. As you saw him as a safe place, a protector. It warmed his heart, and he'd slowly opened up around you. Talking about his days,parts of missions, or maybe the new knife he'd gotten. Random stuff to fill the silence if you weren't talking or needed a break in the times you'd sought him out.

When or how your relationship had changed, neither of you were sure. Teasing jokes and flirty banter just became the norm. He'd quickly adjusted to you being in his space and craved it even after all the times of letting you press up against or holding you so people would leave you alone. He had started walking you home some nights when you worked till close, making sure you got home safe before leaving immediately. You had started taking the later shifts just to spend that extra time with him, but he didn't know. Finally after all the tension and missed chances you'd tugged on his sleeve as he made to leave offering him a late night cup of tea and a place to rest so he didn't have to go all the way to base.

He had nodded before he could catch himself, too mesmerized by your flustered but determined gaze. From there after getting him to stay a few nights, you'd taken the intuitive, climbing into his lap on your couch and asking him if he'd like to spend the night in your room instead of on the couch. To which he agreed eagerly, hands on your waist as he pulled up his balaclava to kiss you. Leading to the first steamy night you two shared together.

Soap nods, saving his questions for later. Instead, he nods towards the drinks on the table.

“What did ya whip up for us today?” Soap smiles easily but Ghost catches how his eyes scan the pub for threats and he’s thankful knowing someone else has your back.

“Right! Soap, I made you a cherry old-fashioned! Made with your favorite type of whiskey, scotch! And for my darling knight in skull amour… with a sweet tooth. I made a vanilla old-fashioned with the finest bourbon this pub could afford and vanilla sugar around the rim.” You sit up with renewed energy excited to tell the two men about the drinks you'd made them. You'd gotten into the habit of experimenting with drinks and flavors and both Soap and Ghost had agreed to trying them everytime. Well Soap had agreed, Ghost wasn't given much of a choice.

“I keep telling you I take my bourbon neat. You're lucky these drinks usually turn out okay” Ghosts huffs, swirling the glass and ignoring Soaps whispered “sweet tooth?”

You smile, eyes lighting up with mischief as you’re called to the bar. Standing up, you watch as he raises his mask, locking you in place with his stare as he takes a sip. He winces at the sweetness, sugar crystals shining on his lip, that he licks away before your impulsive thoughts of doing it yourself become actions.

There’s fire in his normally cold gaze as your eyes follow the way his tongue traces his lip. You copy the action lips and throat suddenly feeling dry. He takes another sip acting like the sugar will kill him, making you roll your eyes, matching his stare with a playful glare.

“Sweet as hell but it ain’t bad. Just not my cup of tea.” Ghost grunts out, the playful look in his eyes not dropping at your glare.

You scoff, shaking your head as you stop behind his chair on your way back to the bar, leaning in, you press yourself against his back as your arms come around to grab the glass.

You can feel him tense under you making you chuckle as you raise the glass to your lips, taking a sip before setting it back down. You hum, a deeply distracting noise, Ghost thinks. Before you turn your head,your breath fanning his ear.

“Just as sweet as you take your morning tea…Lieutenant.” You whisper the words breathily against his ear, rejoicing in the way you can feel his breath stutter before you step back a pleased grin on your face.

“See you boys later, enjoy the drinks. They’re on the house for disturbing your evening. Till next time John…Simon.” With that and a bit more pep in your step, you made your way back to the bar, falling into the rhythm of the busy night as you made drinks and entertained your patrons, leaving both boys flabbergasted at the table.

“Ghost…?” Soap mumbled in question,looking between you at the bar and Ghost.

“Not a word Johnny” He barked as if he was giving an order. He eyed the glass before downing what was left in it, standing up and leaving quickly before soap could ask anymore questions.

[goatcheeseandmilk]

I’m not going anywhere

Short little broppy oneshot abt poppy comforting branch 💕💙

(my first ever fanfic?? go easy on me)

——————————————————

I’m Not Going Anywhere

The sun was finally setting, revealing a night sky that was covered in stars. After a long day of being on the road and trying to practice their “perfect family harmony” to save Floyd the group decided to take a break before it was time to turn in for the night. JD and Bruce were chatting off in the distance while looking at some tree and Clay was inside the bus getting his bed ready for the night. Branch was busy being lost in his own world. He sat down in the grass, running his blue fingers along the blades. Of course seeing his brothers again after all these years was great and he was happy to see them again but it also wasn’t easy. The whole ordeal exhausted him with the emotional war constantly happening in his head.

He hated the way being with his brothers made him feel like that baby again. Helpless and small watching them walk out the door, leaving him alone with their grandmother who then died at the hands of a bergen not long after. Before her death Branch could tell how much she missed her grandsons. She’d put on a happy face for him of course but he could still hear her crying sometimes at night. He held onto the hope that they would return and that they could be a family again. He built the bunker for them just like him and Floyd had planned all those years ago still hoping they’d come back. Part of him hated them for what they did to not just him but also their grandmother.

He hated them for leaving him especially when he needed them the most. He hated them for leaving him to be alone after their grandma died. He hated them for not being there to do something so their grandma didn’t have to die. He hated them even for trying to pretend like nothing happened since then, for trying to pretend like he’s still that baby they abandoned. Even with all the hate he couldn’t help but still love them. He couldn’t help but still want to be a family again and fix what had become so broken. He could recognize that they all came from broken lives in some way and that he wasn’t the only one who had suffered. All of it was confusing and hard to understand.

His complicated thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice. One that he loved to hear, the voice that always seemed to speak the right words when he needed it. The voice that belonged to his favorite face in the world.

“Branch?” Poppy said gently, sitting down in the grass next to him, knees curled up to her chest mimicking how he was sitting, her shoulder resting against his, “Are you alright?” She spoke slowly and carefully. “Not really” is what he wanted to say but then he knew that would lead to a “what’s wrong?” and that was a question that was too complicated for him to even answer to himself.

So instead he replied, “Yea, I’m alright”, in a shaky whisper, not quite selling it like he wanted to. He assumed Poppy wasn’t going to take that for an answer and he knew that she knew better than anybody when he wasn’t really alright. It was impossible for him to hide his true emotions from her.

It was to his surprise when instead of digging for a better response she simply replied to his answer with, “I’m proud of you.” She leaned into his shoulder as she said it and tried to catch his eye.

He looked up from the ground locking his gaze into her pink eyes with a slightly confused look on his face, “For what?” he asked. She gave him a small but genuine smile.

“For all of it,” She said, grabbing hold of his hand and running her thumb along it, “for being here right now, for giving family and trust another chance, for how far you’ve come, for having such a great heart even after everything you’ve been through, all of it.” He looked back at the ground, feeling hot tears spring into his eyes that he tried to keep from falling, she kept her gaze on him and squeezed his hand. “I know this isn’t easy for you, Branch but I’m so proud of you for taking it all in so well. We’re in this together, me and you, and I’m not going anywhere, no matter what.”

Branch looked back into her eyes as she reached up with her free hand to wipe away the tears that fell despite his protest. She always knew exactly what to say to him. Most of the time he felt like he didn’t deserve someone like her. She was, without a doubt, the best thing in his life and he would do anything not to lose her.

That was one of his many reasons for being so hesitant to come on this trip. He knew it would be difficult, he knew how vulnerable it would make him, he knew how many complicated emotions would come up. He was terrified to have the girl he loved see him like this. He was scared it’d push her to give up and leave him just like everybody else had in the past, but hearing her say those words made him realize he had nothing to be scared of. She not only understood him but she accepted and loved him for where he was at.

“I love you,” He said. Three words that seemed so simple and routine but that meant everything to him. Three words that silently spoke a thousand more.

She smiled at him before she pulled him in for a hug, wrapping her arms around him tightly, “I love you too, Branch, so much.” He knew she meant it too and for that moment all of the questions without answers, all of the pain and hurt, all of the confusing thoughts and feelings didn’t matter anymore. He had Poppy and that’s all that mattered.

thanks for reading hope you enjoyed :)

I love them so much

[360degreesasthecrowflies]

I’m afraid I’ve come more and more around to the opinion that Rowling is the kind of author who simply doesn’t think. So to look for an analytical interpretation of anything in the series is probably an exercise in frustration. She paints what is intended as impressive word pictures — essentially vignettes — mainly on the basis of how they are supposed to push your buttons and make you feel, without ever considering how they are supposed to fit together. This sometimes produces a considerable emotional impact, if you are at all sensitive to that kind of jerking around, but it doesn’t necessarily make sense. And sometimes they just plain backfire. Quite a few of these issues are still slowly coming into focus. And one of the sharpest is the awareness that the world Rowling assembled is simply a lot bigger than the narrow-focused, smug, anglo-centric view of it she gave us. Because when you come right down to it, it becomes clear that she never really intended to build a solid secondary world to put her story in. She simply didn’t do the groundwork. Instead, she has ended up with this weird amalgamation that she threw together — which is highly detailed in some areas, and only vaguely sketched in elsewhere with several great gaping holes where you least expect them, to fall right out of the story through. But, back when she first assembled this pretend world, she used the best possible materials available. She mined folklore, and classic (written) tales that have been pretty fully absorbed by the culture, as well as ancient myth, and symbolism that has been around for centuries, she mimicked the authentically traditional “tropes” of how stories are put together and how they work, and she did it with a free hand. But I’m no longer convinced that she did it all consciously. I think she slung a lot of them together because they just “felt” right together. Sure, sometimes she tweaked them before she deployed them, or renamed them, or trivialized the hell out of them, but she hardly ever invented anything new. Most of her elements already existed. The only thing in the Potterverse that is really original are some of her combinations. And, of course, the Dementors. Consequently, as I say, she ended up with something that is a lot bigger than she is. And which upon first encounter comes across as a lot more erudite than she probably really is too, because all of the elements she used to build it came already equipped with their own baggage, and a whole pre-existing collection of associations which all originally led someplace. And most of them are so widely known and/or so universal that even with a 2nd or 3rd-rate education, you are able to recognize them, and are at least somewhat aware of what those particular elements usually mean. And the components are all thoroughly documented, so you can readily find out what the original source meant if you are at all curious. But that doesn’t mean that she ever intended to use any of that material. The whole is greater than the sum of its parts. It is certainly bigger than the shallow, petty, and mean-spirited viewpoint that she keeps pushing into the foreground and expecting us to use as a lens.

via Red Hen's restrospective review of Deathly Hallows, 2008

[ficbrish]

Snippet Saturday

[06Jan2024]

This is from one of the posted one shots in my Kinktober collection.

"A Ten Year"

snippet is mature, 18+

bg3 spoilers!!! (takes place post-canon)

[Astarion and Vistri stay at Gale's tower to experiment with magic]

[[tw/cw: alcohol]]

“Hello, darling,” Astarion greeted delightedly as she entered their rooms.

Together they made ten years fly by, yet Vistri felt like she was beholding his face for the first time, only just now becoming acquainted with his voice. She still felt like that when they reunited after being apart for any amount of time. Even just within the space of half a day.

Vistri pouted, “I think he hates me.”

Astarion affectionately pretended to be fed up with her, “What’d you do this time?”

“I… teased him a little.”

“Oh, come now! If he was ever going to hate you over that, we wouldn’t ever be invited to stay.”

Vistri laughed, and its ugliness made her the most precious thing. Astarion had no choice but to wrap his arms around her and feel her convulse against his chest.

His eyes were soft, “And I��wouldn’t have you any other way.”

Vistri closed hers to soak up the heat and sincerity in his tone. It was sweeter than a song.

Their tongues did the rest of the talking. Then they found each other’s skin underneath their fine clothes. Passing breath back and forth until they eventually sunk to the floor and melted into each other.

Afterwards, they gazed in amazement while their chests wracked like stormy waves. Vistri wiped a drop of sweat off Astarion’s brow that threatened to fall into his eye.

“Let’s take a bath,” she purred.

When they all met for dinner later Gale was no longer peeved, but he had a look of madness about him.

“I’m feeling inspired,” he announced, raising his glass, “To us! And the pursuit of…”

“Debauchery,” Astarion offered.

Vistri smirked.

They clinked and sipped. Gale excitedly took over the conversation with theories on mimicking the psychic link of a mind flayer. Another elixir was obviously out of the question. One would just cancel out the other. And they’d already ruled out the use of more than one scroll.

“—but what if it’s something we wear?!” he exclaimed, the punchline to his lecture.

“Well, I like it,” Astarion said in a high, breathy tone. Then tilted his head and lowered his voice for dramatic effect, “Question is: What should we enchant?”

Undergarments would be the most fun, but those would probably end up discarded, breaking the effect. Any sort of necklace or diadem was a bad idea for the same reason. So, they went with the most basic answer, a ring.

“Boring, but sort of perfect,” Vistri said, “In theme with our little get together—It reminds me of that ring Omeluum gave us, the Ring of Mind-shielding, but—”

“Ring of Mind-flayer,” Gale joked.

Vistri chuckled, “Exactly. I think it could be nostalgic. Don’t you agree, love?”

Astarion swallowed a gulp of… well, somebody’s blood, and set down his goblet to take hold of her reaching fingers.

He nodded, “The rings themselves make splendid gifts.”

“Party favors!”

“Yes, dear,” Astarion patted her hand, “Party favors.”

Gale chewed thoughtfully and hummed, getting ready to say something.

“Do you think everyone will be ready to turn into mind flayers? Even though we wouldn’t be actually turning into one—I mean, we worked so hard not to after all. Now we’re making it into a game.”

“A sex game,” Astarion clarified, just because Gale’s reaction was always priceless.

“With your brilliant ring idea, anyone can skip the mind flayer bits and still have a blast” Vistri said, “But that’s the draw of it for me, personally. I like to face my fears in the bedroom.

“Really puts the whole vampire companion into perspective,” Gale muttered into his wine.

“I think it has the potential to be quite healing, frankly,” Vistri went on, “You know: Take control of the thing we used to not be in control of.”

“And fuck it,” Astarion added.

“But not… At the party. Right?”

“No, Gale!” Vistri scoffed, “Do you tend to host orgies at your other family reunions?”

“Fair enough,” he chuckled, “But you both better remember that. I’ll have no illithids at the party proper! Not when it’s my turn to host.”

The first tenday was a disaster of failed attempts. Their unique shapeshifting spell was easier said than managed. The rings ended up being the simplest part. After all, it was just a stack of enchantments: Warding to connect the pair, mind reading, and a mix of charm and psionics for the transfer of sensation and feeling. Those only took time because they had to be bonded pairs. The elixir proved to be just as tricky as the scrolls, but after Gale remembered to enchant the mushrooms, they had something viable.

Just in time, they pulled it off. The only thing left to do before the party was to give the whole experience a test run.

[Read more: AO3 | Tumblr]

[divine-misfortune]

Okay so I blame @sphylor for daring to bring up the concept of Narciccus Rain....

Trans masc Rain, mirror masturbation, taking self love to a whole new level here. Also feat. Dew being in awe of his boyfriend. As he should be.

I did not proof read this so if you see weird spelling no you didn't.

Rain finally drags himself out of his bed, he finally manged to pull his hand out of his pants long enough to do so. He'd felt it since waking up, burning, needing, aching...All Rain could do was writhe in the sheets and try to satitate the feeling, but his fingers just don't seem to cut it. Sure, he gets himself off at least twice and makes quite a mess of himself but it doesn't quell the need. Honestly it leaves him worse off.

He tries to make it to the bathroom with the hope he can shower away the smell of sweat and sex. Like that might be what frees him from this relentless haze of desire, and maybe it could have...If he could've made it that far.

Rain catches the sight of himself in the mirror and pauses, leaning in to look at himself a bit closer.

A deep flush had taken his body. Lavender just beneath the skin, darkest in his cheeks. He tipped his head slightly, a curl or two falling out of place, and stares down his own shirt with a strange fascination. His tanktop hangs loose, yet another piece of clothing he'd stolen from Swiss, and he can see far too much. His collarbones, his ribs, the curve and dip of his sternum. He can see the stiff buds on his chest and absentmindedly paws at them through the fabric.

He bites his lower lip and takes note of the fact it's already gone red and puffy from his fangs worrying it earlier. He runs the other hand down his cheek, drags the tips of his nails down the column of his throat and nearly whimpers. If he closes his eyes he can almost pretend it's someone else's hand around his neck. Pressing down against his pulse, holding him still...But part of him doesn't want to. He likes the sight of his own thin fingers wrapped delicately around his windpipe far too much. Makes his knees weak.

Rain sinks to the floor and parts his thighs automatically. If he was thinking about anything clearly, maybe he'd have felt a bit of shame when he feels himself dripping...All from just looking at himself. His boxers are wet, probably soaked judging from the way they cling to his skin. He still lets his hands wander despite the throbbing between his legs.

A small giggle spills out of him as he pushes beneath his shirt, exposing the dark trail of hair along his belly. He runs his fingers through it with a pleased trilling sound before his hand drifts to the source of his arousal. He palms himself through his sweatpants and shudders.

He doesn't know when he stripped, he doesn't really remember all that well. All Rain knows is the reflection mimicking him. One hand is splayed out on the floor between his knees to balance himself while the other drags slowly over his swollen clit. He can just barely see the way it juts out between his fingers in this position. The sound is wet, filthy, and he moans unapologetically. He's dared to dip his middle finger inside himself a few times but doing so only adds to the puddle beneath him, it only frustrates him further becaue it's not enough. He knits his brow as he repeats the motion, generously allowing himself two digits that he tries to curl into the right place.

The smell of his heat was thick in the air, nearly too much for his dizzy head to drown in. It was sweet like morning mist, sharpened with salt, tinged with something almost floral. It was enough to make Dew stumble in the hall outside.

He'd been on his way to complain to Rain, because of his absence that morning Dew got saddled with the other ghoul's chores. But the familiar spark of annoyance is snuffed out as the realization washed over him. Heat, he should have known. Dew goes to push the slightly ajar door further but freezes, mouth running dry.

Fuck.

He's something to see there, hips bucking into his own hand. From his place in the doorway Dew can see the curve of his spine, the way his shoulderblades tense, the elemental symbol branded onto his skin...He swallows thickly, grip on the doorknob tightening. Maybe he should worry about melting the damn thing with how hot his body decides to run. Out of everything, it's the way Rain whispers to himself, that's what truly gets him.

"Satanas...Look at you," he breathes, tossing his head to move the hair from his eyes. "Aren't you just the prettiest sight. Left on your own and you entertain yourself." Dew notes the way his supporting arm begins to tremble but Rain chuckles to himself. "Your'e your own porn huh?"

Dew bites his cheek when Rain shifts a bit, no longer leaning forward. He sits back on his heels and moves his arm behind him. He does his best to angle his hips, expose himself to the mirror. Dew could feel his mouth practically water, the sharp smell was getting to him. He felt lightheaded.

But Rain was...Just a mess. Dew's hand twitched at his side. He could feel the swell of arousal in his gut. The thought of shoving his hand down his pants crossed his mind, it wouldn't be the first time he'd pleasured himself to the sight of Rain but it felt dirtier somehow. Like he wasn't supposed to be seeing this, and if Rain were to catch him it would all end abruptly.

And his fingers plunged in and out of him without resistence, he almost seemed to try to roll his hips to meet each frantic thrust. His thighs trembled desperately and Dew longed to settle himself between them. Clean the slick from his skin with the flat of his tongue, tease the sensitive skin with the graze of his teeth.

"Fuck, ah- fuck! Not..." Rain's brow furrowed as he added another finger. "Not enough, need it. Need it, need cock." The words spilled out of him, practically babbled. Dew swore he could see tears pricking in his eyes as he glared at his reflection. "Not gonna be satisfied until you get really fucked, need to be knotted...You look so needy,"

It was true, he did. So beautifully desperate. It only stoked the fire in his belly.

"So..." His eyes fought to stay open, fluttering as his voice pitched. Not wanting to lose the image of himself for a moment. "So pretty, so pretty when you're close."

Dew nodded without thinking about it. So painfully enraptured that he nearly forgot Rain wasn't speaking to him.

Rain's moans pitched as his body strained. His mouth hung helplessly open, panting like a dog. Like each breath brought him closer.

"Yes, yes, fuck! Just like that, just-"

He cut himself off with a gasp, eyes practically going cross as his hips canted upwards. He pulled his fingers out with a noise that almost sounded liike a yelp. Dew felt the heat in his face burn. The slick pooling between his thighs was nothing compared to the gush of wetness his orgasm had brought. Some had even managed to get on the glass itself, dripping down the mirrorface.

Rain's body sagged and twitched as he lazily circled his clit with the tip of his index finger. His head tipped forward, chin against his chest as he tried to catch his breath. Frustration still creased harsh lines on his face as he lifted his gaze.

Dew froze when Rain's eyes found him in the gap in the doorway. Just standing there, peeping, a pervert, Dew wanted the floor to swallow him whole. 

But his expression softened to something more akin to pleading. Dew couldn't take his eyes off that mirror if he tried to.

"Firefly," his voice wavered slightly. "Need you to make it better." Rain weakly arched back again to show off his cunt, hole still clenching around nothing. "Please baby, I can't take it..."

He hardly trusted himself to speak, not when he was this hard. Especially not when he was so drunk off pheramones. Dew just let himself in and made sure to kick the door shut behind him. He didn't need anyone else seeing Rain in this state, he selfishly wanted the water ghoul all to himself.

[mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess]

Haunted house

Part 3 of the WangXian Valentine's Day drabbles!

When Wei Ying insisted he had planned a surprise for Lan Zhan for Valentine's Day, he had imagined many things (not all savory), but definitely not this.

"A haunted house tour?"

"Yes!" Wei Ying could barely hold in his excitement. "It's going to be so fun!"

"Wei Ying. We deal with hauntings on the regular. We are cultivators."

"I know! Which is why I thought it would be fun to experience it without the weight of it. Just some good ol' ghost and zombie encounters that are all fake and just an excuse for me to pretend I'm scared and cling on to you and your sexy muscles!"

"Wei Ying!"

"Come on, there's no queue right now!" And he dragged Lan Zhan along. Although he did feel a bit ridiculous about it, seeing Wei Ying so happy made it worth it - and Lan Zhan supposed getting clung onto would definitely not be unpleasant. He always liked feeling Wei Ying up against his body-

The fake haunted house was surprisingly realistic - the decorations and the lighting gave it an ominous vibe, and the sound effects mimicked ghosts and fierce corpses quite well.

Surprisingly well.

Several screeching ghosts flew over their heads, and the chills Lan Zhan felt were definitely not just from the ventilation.

"Feels a lot like the real thing, right?" Wei Ying said, his pupils tinted red. "I almost got scared back there."

"Mn."

They kept walking, holding hands leisurely. Several actors with impressingly realistic makeup jumped at them and the special effects had the two cultivators almost feel like they were on a nighthunt. Whoever built that place definitely knew what they were doing.

Of course, Wei Ying did pretend he was afraid and nearly climbed up in his husband's arms "from fear" - which was immensely funny considering he was the whole Yiling Patriarch. Even Lan Zhan almost cracked a laugh upon having to once again embrace Wei Ying and reassure him he will not let the zombies get to him.

Then, there was a sound.

"That doesn't sound fake." Wei Ying spoke, dropping the act, "That's definitely a fierce corpse. No, it's two."

"Mn. I will summon Bichen."

Wei Ying had taken Chenqing with him that day (as he always does), and was on the point of playing something to subdue whatever corpse there was-

"Wen Ning?!"

"M-Master Wei?!"

Lan Zhan really wished he could hide the glare of Bichen into the dark now. How embarrassing.

"What are you doing here, Wen Ning? Are you hiding? Did someone-"

"No, no..." if Wen Ning had been alive, he would have been beet red. "...this is my job..."

"Your j- Wen Ning, who hired you while you're clearly dead?"

"They were understaffed..."

"And why did I hear two fierce corpses then?"

"...Song-daozhang is also here..."

"Oh my God..."

"Rent is very high, master Wei..."

Wei Ying sighed deeply before bursting into laughter. "Are you being paid well at least?"

"Better than nothing... why are you here, master Wei, Hanguang-Jun?"

"On a date!"

"Oh... um... could you act scared please? I get a bonus if the boss hears screaming..."

Lan Zhan was quite sure Wen Ning's bonus would amount to his weight in gold, with the over-the-top shout Wei Ying let out. And the way he did jump in his husband's arms for added theatrics.

Lan Zhan let out an exasperated breath. "Wei Ying."

"What, didn't you say you'd protect me?"

"I am not able to hold my sword if you are in my arms."

"Would you rather I be in someone else's, Hanguang-Jun?"

The dark look Lan Zhan sent him had Wei Ying laugh so loud he almost ran out of air. Jokes on him, though. Lan Zhan carried him all the way home, on the street, in front of everyone.

Payback.

[bedrockbones]

Quacknobros with your mimic!quackity and techno plots a way to keep quackity as a piglin hybrid and kidnaps him to be his runt (kinda like a continuation of your Persistent Hunting but also can be it's own thing)

I wish you would write a fic where... ///not accepting some context for this one: kind of a sequel to persistant hunting oneshot where quackity is still suffering from ptsd from schlatt so his instincts are a little haywire. spent so long mimicking schlatts hybrid traits out of stress, they still havent gone away anyway don't talk to me about my past and present tense mixups just go with it

The horns still hadn't gone away, even days later. Quackity was starting to wonder if they ever would.

One nice thing about Wilbur's shitty ravine is there were barely any reflective surfaces for Quackity to see himself in. He could almost pretend Schlatt's horns weren't curled around his head.

Almost.

They were pretty fucking heavy after all. And stress shifts always hurt.

The root of the horns throbbed with each step Quackity took. He could practically feel the weight of them dragging him down, slowing his steps. How Schlatt carried these things around and still had the posture he did? Quackity had no damn clue.

At this point, Quackity couldn't even tell if the stress was residuals from Schlatt or his current predicament confusing his body. Pogtopia wasn't exactly sunshine and daisies. What with Wilbur's deteriorating mental state, the whole fucking war boiling over.

Oh, yeah. And Technoblade. Technoblade that never approached but never left Quackity alone. Always lurking around the corner. Still doing his tasks but for some reason his tasks always happened to need him to be right fucking next to Quackity.

Like now. Quackity didn't need to turn around to know Technoblade was watching him. At least with the instincts of a goat hybrid, Quackity could feel that tickle on the back of his neck that came with all prey hybrid's instincts. The feeling of being watched. Stalked.

Hunted.

Though, Quackity didn't need prey instincts to know that. He still remembered quite clearly the speech Technoblade had given him all those months ago.

Which left him here. Trapped in a ravine filled with people that wanted Quackity dead for a variety of reasons.

Trapped with Technoblade.

"Tommy wants you."

Quackity very much does not squeak when Technoblade appears in front of him. Fucker was fast despite his size. Really not fair.

He swallowed, forcing himself to meet Technoblade's gaze. Those red eyes stared back at him, glittering with something Quackity couldn't name.

When the pig hybrid doesn't offer up any more information, Quackity is forced to speak.

"Um- okay. Where is he?" He's proud to say his voice didn't shake, but the horns on his head were throbbing. A deep ache was pulsing through them in time with his racing heart.

"In the armory." With a lazy hand, Technoblade gestured down the hall behind him.

But he doesn't move. Technoblade's large form still took up the bulk of the passageway, blocking Quackity's route. His gaze was focused on Quackity's horns. They throbbed even harder in response.

Fuck.

[witchesoz]

Oz the Great and Powerful: Script vs Movie (2)

V) Escaping the Emerald City

We find back Oscar now in the Emerald City dungeons, guarded by two creatures, a Whimsie on one side and a Gnome on the other. The two taunt the Wizard and try to scare him by pointing out that tomorrow’s torture session (because this is what Evanora meant by “interrogation”) will be quite horrible, especially since the Queen is an expert at it. The Whimsie and Gnome also make it clear that they will gladly enjoy eating the Wizar’s flesh once she is done with him – the Whimsie preferring a “slow roast” while the Gnome prefers having the Wizard “flayed alive”. Oscar, in return, insults the Gnome’s beard, only to have the Gnome reply proudly that this beard is the source of his potency and strength – and the Whimsie mock him, because he precise that if you hit a Gnome in the beard you’ll defeat them quite easily, only for the Gnome to bitterly answer back that if you take off the mask of a Whimsie’s head they’ll flee in shame of their real appearance – and so, their bickering actually makes Oscar learn of how to defeat both of their species as a whole. The two guards then leave him alone – but Oscar uses his talents as an escape artist/contortionist to actually escape the chains that bind him to the wall of the dungeons, he then lures the guard back into the dungeon by using his ventriloquism to make it sound like people are here to rescue him – and once they’re inside he knocks them out using the knowledge he gained earlier. And as he is about to leave, he is suddenly greeted face to face with… Kala, Theodora’s winged monkey.

Because meanwhile, in her room, Theodora was looking thoughtfully at the music box of Oscar, and playing again and again its music (it is Mozart by the way). The music ends up touching “whatever is left in her Witch heart” as the script says (another quite ominous line), and she decides to write a small note to the Wizard, that she tasked Kala to deliver alongside with a key – the key to the dungeons. She wanted him to escape! But Kala arrives right as the Wizard managed to escape all by himself, having stolen the keys from the guards. And then… Surprise! Kala can talk like a human! Before all he did was just mimicking his messages or using his facial expressions to express his feelings (he notably frowned several time during his scenes, at both what Theodora said and what Oscar himself said) – but now he makes full sentences, and he tells the Wizard “We need to go to Glinda now, to help you! Quick! And Glinda is the Witch of the South! And by the way, she isn’t a Wicked Witch – she is a Good Witch, but the sisters are the Wicked Witches. Let’s go!

After they leave the Emerald City, Evanora summons the guards that were knocked out. They pretend that the Wizard simply vanished into thin air, turning into cold smoke before disappearing – but the note Kala was supposed to carry to the Wizard was left behind, dropped in the moment of panic, and Evanora gained knowledge of it. After quickly sentencing to death the two guards who failed at their duty, she summons Theodora and reveals to the audience the content of the note: “I’m sorry, I never should have brought you here – don’t worry, I will help you.” Evanora is deeply disappointed by her sister’s treachery, and despite Theodora’s insistence than maybe the Wizard will NOT go join the Witch of the South, Evanora deeply believes he will join her against them – and to add a final insult, she says that Glinda’s charms are much greater than Theodora’s.

Meanwhile, Evanora sends her entire army of “savages” (the way the script keeps reusing these words for the species serving Evanora is making me a bit uncomfortable) after the Wizard, with the job to catch him alive BEFORE he can reach the Witch of the South. But as they run, suddenly something arrives from the South – the Impenetrable Mist, a thick spectral fog moving across the land, sent by Glinda to cover everything in an ocean of clouds. The Impenetrable Mist confuses the “savage army”, who is promptly lost – when the mist goes away, the Wizard is gone, and the generals of the army agree that it must have been him who conjured up this spell. After all, he did come from the clouds, didn’t he? But meanwhile Kala and the Wizard actually follow a glowing orb inside the mist, who guides them towards the right direction.

We get here another good look at how a scene was originally intended, versus how the scene ends up. Remember from the movie, the scene of Oscar meeting for the first time the winged monkey servant, who swears a life-debt to him? Well this scene exists in the original script… but completely reversed. Oscar asks for the monkey’s name, which is revealed to be Kala ; he then insists on shaking the hand (well, paw) of the monkey, which surprises the creature as no one did that before ; and finally it is OSCAR who says he is in debt to Kala for saving his life, not the reverse. We have again a very significant change, showing how different the script’s original intentions were compared to what the movie ended up as. As the two chat, we also learn more things. We learn that Kala is the only winged monkey that can talk, a magical gift from Glinda, and that he secretly served her as a spy – Theodora herself didn’t know Kala could speak or had any contact with Glinda. Kala also brings the big revelation. Theodora and Evanora are wicked witch-sisters, both of them – though the difference is that Evanora is completely and fully wicked, while Theodora is “not all the way wicked yet”.

This is the big difference between the movie, where Theodora is a naïve good witch fooled by her very own sister (and in fact, fooled by everyone, so REALLY naïve), and the script, who has the very interesting (and almost genius I would say) idea of having Theodora be a wicked witch… but one who still actually has some good and decency inside her. Suddenly, the lines of Evanora earlier make sense: “You still have feelings”… Evanora is purely wicked because she implies she got rid of her human feelings, but Theodora still kept them, and so this makes her actually “less” wicked than her sister. Consider this: in the movie, we have just a naïve, sheltered, shy girl’s dreamy romance that, once broken, leads her to become, out of jealousy and sadness, the most wicked creature in all of Oz… Something really “try-to-be-edgy” and “moody” and “cheap Elphaba”. But in the original script, the idea was that Oscar/the Wizard, out of his generosity and kindness, had managed to strike the last part of humanity in a wicked witch’s heart, and rekindle the flame of love and compassion in a sorceress on the side of the villain. We are already in something much more complex and interesting! In fact, the final movie overall feels like a big over-simplification of everything the script tried to build up. Theodora story is one good example: “What? A wicked witch that still has some humanity left, and so helps the hero, but then plunges back into full wickedness? No, that’s too complicated, let’s just make her all good, and then all bad”

Anyway, once all of this explanation is done, the Mist Maidens arrive, beautiful ghostly female apparitions made of fog, with “flowing hair and robes, and arms of white”, here to guide the duo towards Glinda. This is a nice nod to the books, yes… but it is an unnecessary one. It is one of the slight flaws of this script – while the efforts to make Oz books references are well appreciated, especially since they touch some of the most obscure part of the literary lore, they tend to be… a bit too much. You have a lot of unnecessary references that kind of bloat up the movie and might confuse someone not familiar with the book. Like the Mist Maidens: they just appear in one scene, disappear completely with no mention, and their role is redundant, since it is specified there is already a glowing orb in the mist guiding the duo… and the orb will play a more important part than the Mist Maidens, so they are utterly and completely unnecessary.

We cut to a scene between Evanora, who toys with the Diamond Dagger, and Theodora. Evanora insists that she was right, and that the Wizard is now on his way to Glinda’s to ally himself with her. And so Evanora puts to Theodora a choice: Choose me, or her. Theodora is quite shocked at the idea that she could choose Glinda over her own sister – but Evanora reveals that she knows Theodora too well, and she knows that a part of Theodora actually still wants to be “like Glinda”. To be beautiful and beloved, not hated and feared like Evanora. Despite this knowledge, Evanora actually doesn’t resent her sister, but rather slowly works on corrupting her (the script references several times the fact that Evanora’s words are like drops of poisons). She just gently strokes Theodora’s hair, and tells her that being a good witch isn’t who she is, or who she is meant to be ; she adds that she needs her for help, and that being “halfway” isn’t enough ; she insists: “Join me so we can defeat them all, and rule for the next thousand years… And all it will cost you is your heart.”

And meanwhile, rumors spread across the Emerald City – the citizens chatting and gossiping to each other about what the “Wonderful Wizard” did, with tales ranging from him being able to walk through the walls, to him turning into an eight-foot giant to escape…

VI) Meeting Glinda

The Wizard and Kala finally arrive at the Quadling Country, which is protected by a shimmering wall extending from east to west, making everything behind it look “hazy, like a mirage”, a force-field. The glowing orb guiding them actually opens a portal through the wall, which closes right after they went through. And at this point, Kala leaves on his own to warn Glinda of their arrival, leaving the Wizard to walk on his own to the castle of Glinda. And…

… we reach here one of the bad parts of the script. Not because it is bad-bad. But just because it mixes bad pacing with the flow I quoted above, of the over-abundance of book references. Oscar walks on his own through the Quadling Country, seeing the many strange sights in it – Ripple Land, the Dainty China Country, the Hammerheads… This is a trip typical of a Baum book, with ton of Oz book content… But it isn’t really necessary, and kind of bloats the plot, and grinds its pace to a halt. It could be easily cut or reshaped. Let’s look at it step, by step, shall we? The Ripple Land part is definitively not necessary, since it is just a visual trick evoking Baum’s original description of a land in constant ripples, with hills becoming valleys and valleys becoming hills – a nice visual to see, but not much needed here. I mean, we have entered the point of crisis of the story, there is an urgency, we are not here to take a stroll down the wonderful land anymore.

Then we have a scene at the Dainty China Country and… I have to say, the scene in the script is actually very weak, where the scene of the Dainty China Country in the movie is very good. In the script, Oscar surprises a little china girl who breaks one of her legs – but she treats it as if it was nothing, claiming her mother has some glue to repair her, and she just says that he doesn’t look much like a Wizard before running away. While it adds to the whole wonder of the Land of Oz… It is nothing and can easily be cut. Especially since this movie doesn’t have the secondary character of the Little China Girl, and no parallel to the wheelchair girl in the real word (who herself doesn’t exist in this early script). But in the movie, having the Dainty China Country scene be a tragic one, showing the devastation of the Wicked Witch, and the whole thing with the Wizard rescuing a broken girl, literally… It was a powerful scene, that worked really well, and helped Oscar recognize that he had a huge responsibility in the events unfolding. More than that, this scene in the movie helped show some of the darkness of Oz, and added some seriousness to the whole business… In fact, I think it is something that the original script seems to miss a bit, some bit of dark seriousness in it. But again, if they went for an “early Pirate of the Caribbean vibe”, it works really well. As for the meeting of the Hammerheads, it is just them starting to beat up Oz with their heads, and playing volleyball with him, before putting him down when learning that he is the Wizard. Some kind of cartoonish violence that, again, doesn’t feel really right nor useful. The only useful info is that we learn how the Hammerheads got their arms stolen by the Wicked Witch of the East – aka Evanora, and even then this is just… really confusing. Why are they referring to her as the Wicked Witch of the East? Evanora is currently the illegitimate Queen of Oz – she doesn’t rule specifically from the East. And even if she did came from there originally, it is very confusing since later Theodora will be referred to as the “Wicked Witch of the West”, so it possibly can’t be based on their places of origin since they are said to be sisters… I think they just dropped the names there to make sure the audience knew which character was which – but it doesn’t make any sense. I much prefer the movie not giving us the actual title but letting us guess, from the sisters leaving into different directions, who they will become.

Anyway, let’s leave this tedious travel behind and finally arrive at Glinda’s palace. White, radiant and glorious, seemingly made of “living crystal”, with a courtyard like the Gardens of Babylon. Oscar is quite surprised to find the castle empty, no servants or guards in there, to what Kala replies that Glinda, since she is a witch, needs “no one”. An interesting detail implying that if the wicked witches keep servants in their palace it is by choice, not by necessity. We also get this fascinating exchange: Oscar says “Independent-minded, is she? I like that in a woman”, only for Kala to answer “She is not a woman: she is a witch”. It is actually a leitmotif that returns later, how witches are not actually women, and drives the sense of otherworldliness of their characters that had already been established by Theodora (who pointed out for example how witches do not need to eat). Glinda finally appears, in a magic bubble like in the MGM movie, and to describe her, whoever wrote the script actually quotes Joseph Campbell “The paragon of all paragons of beauty, the reply to all desire, the incarnation of the promise of perfection”. The one who wrote this script clearly had big ideas. The only other info we have is that Glinda has the bearing of a “pirate queen” (again, reinforces my Pirate of the Caribbean vibe). Now, Glinda informs Oscar that Kala has some doubts about him being a Wizard – and Oscar manages to get out of this by claiming that while he can’t shake mountains or turn water into wine, he deals in illusions. And to Glinda, it just seems that he is a shoddy and not very powerful wizard (though a wizard still) – but as she says, she’ll still take him because he is the only wizard they got, plus if he managed to escape Evanora it means he is resourceful enough.

Glinda then has Oscar greet the “Good People of the South”, that gathered to celebrate him and form an army to fight off the Wicked Witches at the Wizard’s command. It is similar in principle to the scene of Oscar meeting Glinda’s forces in the final movie, and yet very different. In scope at first – we are here talking of thousands of people gathering by Glinda’s palace. And in content, as instead of the movie’s usage of “recognizable” faces like the Munchkins and whatnot, the script originally did reuse the actual inhabitants of the South of Oz. The Cuttenclip soldiers, the Hammerheads, Dainty China soldiers and farmers, the Fuddles, and the inhabitants of Utensia… Leading to a truly fantastical assembly of weird creatures and entities. In front of this huge gathering, Oscar tries to back out – he explains he can’t be a warlord, because it requires someone with “brains, heart and courage” (wink towards the original story). Glinda explains that, while she is the most powerful of the three sorceresses in Oz, it is dangerous for her to face alone two Wicked Witches at once, as they could actually destroy her – and if Glinda dies, than all “hopes and dreams will die in Oz for a thousand years”. (It is quite interesting how the Wicked Witches plan to rule for a thousand years, and Glinda’s death would mean the rule of wickedness for just a thousand year, I wonder what’s the deal with this specific time limit, maybe it is the span of a life-cycle among Witches?). Oscar asks Glinda what she will do if he refuses to help, and Glinda flat out tells him she’ll banish him from Quadling Country and leave him into the hand of the Wicked Sisters. Oscar answers “And they say you’re the Good Witch!” to which Glinda explains “A Good Witch is still a Witch, and a Witch wants what she wants – and I want these people to be free”. This last point is actually what strikes a chord inside Oscar’s heart, because as he confesses to Glinda, in his own homeland “nothing is free”.

So he ultimately agrees to go check this army with Glinda, see what they can come up with… But he is very disappointed upon seeing the result. The Cuttenclip soldiers are just soldiers made of paper, and so easily destroyed ; the Dainty China soldiers also break off too easily ; the Fuddles are actually living puzzles, who fall into pieces if they feel too strong emotions such as surprise or terror. The Hammerheads are the only ones who seem to be efficient in a war, since Oscar himself felt their punch, and as he starts saying that the inhabitants of Utensia – which are living kitchen utensils, with eyes, arms and legs – could be useful into killing people… Glinda drops the bomb on him. The inhabitants of Utensia cannot kill anyone, because they are enchanted and “anything enchanted cannot kill”. Even more: no one born in Oz can kill, except the Witches and Wizards. Oscar is baffled and asks what about the servants of the Wicked Witches, the Gnomes, Whimsies and the like – and Glinda explains that they can kill because they are actually not from Oz. [Self note: while this is an excellent conundrum to place in front of the Wizard, and a nice nod to the literary canon, Glinda just dropping the fact the Wicked Witches servant are Oz-born leaves some questions open – such as where do they come from, or how the Wicked Witches got them? The script doesn’t answer this.] As Glinda says, it is precisely because the Good People of Oz cannot kill that they need a Wizard…

… and this leads Oscar to realize something. Glinda can’t actually just cast him away if he refuses – because she said it, they need him, they need a wizard and he is the only one they got. So he ultimately forces Glinda into a bargain: he wants a guarantee to get into this whole war business, some sort of price or reward. And what he asks? He first asks for the treasury Evanora promised him, to become rich, and then he asks to be allowed to leave the Land of Oz. In his own words, he is actually fed up with this country where monkeys fly, and witches want to kill him, and where everyone looks up to him as if he got the answer to everything – so he wants to leave all that, and he reiterates his original dream for a “colorful, lively, beautiful land” but this time he twists it so that what he wants is rather “where the rich people go”, “rooms of soft carpets, beds of eiderdown, champagne out of cut crystal” and he wants that, when people see him in his gilded carriage, people say “that’s somebody”. This is a fascinating twist because in the script we saw him earlier fully enjoying and loving the wonderland that is Oz like a child, as it perfectly fitted his original dream… and yet, now that he is faced with both danger and responsibility, he freaks out, rejects all of this, and sets his goal on much baser, more materialistic dream, and now only thinks of luxury and comfort. We actually get to see here the “true nature” of the Wizard popping out, as his optimism and childish wonder wears out, uncovering something deeper that motivates him – ambition and greed for example. And yet… yet, we are left wondering if this truly that, because while Glinda coldly agrees to these terms, she adds “Wouldn’t it be funny if you turn out to be the man they [the people of Oz] imagine you to be…” and “The man you’ve always dreamed of being”. A line that strikes a nerve in the Wizard’s mind, and Glinda perfectly knows it – implying she actually is quite of a psychological master that could see under the Wizard’s blasé attitude, and guess the actual initial kindness and desire to help people that we glimpsed earlier (such as with Oscar’s attitude towards Theodora).

VII) Preparing for battle

We cut back to the “Theodora crying scene” from the movie, but as with everything else, it is very different from the finished product. Most notably, in the script, Theodora doesn’t cry on her own. She is clearly sad and pained upon learning that the Wizard has reached Glinda’s land and joined with her – but she doesn’t cry for it. Remember, in the script she is this calm and majestic figure. What makes her cry… is Evanora herself. She uses a subtle form of verbal abuse against her sister to force her to cry, reminding her how she was used, played by, fooled by the Wizard; how Glinda will be the Wizard’s queen and not her ; how the Wizard will only return to the Emerald City to cut Theodora’s head off… It is all part of Evanora’s plan to break Theodora into falling deeper into wickedness. But we don’t cut into the “Theodora’s transformation” scene right now… In fact, this scene won’t happen before a LONG time. Meanwhile, as all I describe below happen, from time to time we get brief scenes of Evanora and Theodora watching over the events and Evanora informing her sister of the Wizard’s actions, to further break her down. While it is interesting because it shows that Theodora still fights off her sister’s influence and takes her time to carefully consider fully joining her, these scenes are also utterly pointless and don’t serve anything, so they can easily be cut with no problem.

On the night of meeting with Glinda’s army, and after studying the maps of Oz, a sleepy Oscar starts telling Glinda about the “Wizard of Menlo Park, Edison” – he gives Glinda the whole speech he gave the Dainty China Girl in the movie, and falls asleep as he finishes it… and it is as he wakes up that he has his genius idea on how to defeat the Wicked Witches with just a fake Wizard and an army that can’t kill. I will leave here his actual over-excited description of his great project, because I quite like it:

Oz bursts in, all excited, waving his sketches in the air. OZ I’ve got it! I know how we can beat them! What I have in mind is an historic extravaganza of Olympian proportions! Using good old American Know-How and Ingenuity, smoke and mirrors, Son et Lumiere, I intend to create an illusion of such magnificent magnificence that it will boggle the mind and bedazzle the senses! It will, in other words, send the Sisters and their Savage Army into such paroxysms of Awe and Wonder that they will flee the Emerald City like rats from a burning barn! (then, much quieter) And the one tiny little potential hiccup is... I have no technical expertise whatsoever and, therefore, no way of turning these renderings into reality.

To this last part, Glinda kindly redirects him to the Elves of Oz, who actually work at “Smith & Tinkers” (another nod to the books). The Elves of Smith & Tinkers are said to look a lot like “Santa’s helpers”, and from there on we get the kind of same training/preparation montage we have from the movie, with the Elves building all the contraptions Oscar will need, and the various tribes, clans and inhabitants of the South preparing for battle, training, putting on battle colors, etc… During all of that, Glinda notices that Oscar seems to be deeply enjoying it. Oscar answers back that he is actually terrified, because it is the first time so many people rely on him… and, very interestingly, Oscar shows that he still cares about Theodora because he wonders what will happen to her if they reach Emerald City – he even entertains the idea that she could join them to fight against Evanora. But Glinda considers her doomed – she recognized that there was some good left in them, but not much, since she spent too much time fighting both her sister’s influence and the wickedness inside herself. Oscar later also reveals who his father was and why he is like that. Again, I’ll leave the actual words here:

OZ He was a preacher, who went from dusty town to dusty town selling dreams of a better life and a better world -- but this world and this life beat him down to next to nothing, and even as a child I promised myself that was not gonna happen to me. I might’ve come from the dirt but I always believed my future was in the stars. (looks over at her) And I believe that future is now -- I can feel it -- my whole life’s been leading up to this.

GLINDA I believe that too. I believe this is your Destiny. (beat) And I believe in you, Wizard.

And finally, everyone is ready. Glinda rides on a pure white steed, Oz rather mounts a “Horse of a Different Color” whose coat keeps changing in a true kaleidoscope of hues, and together they face their trained and prepared army, before Oz delivers one final discourse:

OZ My friends! Back where I come from we have a saying: Ad astra per aspera -- it’s the motto of the Great State of Kansas and in Wizard[1]speak it means: “To the stars, through difficulties.” We also say: E Pluribus Unum: “Out of many, one.” And that is us today: One people -- one army -- and, together, we shall reach the stars! Are you with me! (the Army roars back a resounding YES!) Are you with me! A louder YES! -- then, to Glinda, under his breath -- This is your last chance to talk me out of this. Glinda just smiles -- then shouts out to the troops: TO OZ AND THE EMERALD CITY!

[evilminji]

@britcision you! You get my vision. Like? Sir. SIR! This is NOT what I trained for. I went to school for a whole different profession! I had to pay STUDENT LOANS. Write papers! I would like to use the skills I ACTUALLY TRAINED IN.

But no!

Here he is, stitching up the newest... Gold-Eye? He's gonna call um Gold-eyes. Like weird, fucked up, undead birds. Looking up conservationist videos from those big bird places. Like eagles and stuff. And the ones with the big cats. If he combines that with what he knows of ghosts, and sorta? Sprinkles "sapien" on top? It SHOULD work, right?

Climb-y, Stabby, hiding places and such. Let them stare at him and don't be weird about it. Might be how they socialize? Like the same but opposite of cats. Sit in the same area as you and stare? They DO like to mimic. And help.

They'll observe him doing something them perform variations of the same action amongst each other. Kinda like parrots teaching each other a new word. Though they don't actually grasp the purpose of what he's doing most of the time, just the mechanics.

He has to lock up the pens and markers now.

They had clearly seen them before, observed how they worked, but never considered USING them themselves. Probably never felt safe enough too. They certain felt safe enough here.

Danny woke up to EVERYTHING covered in ink.

They also turned the emptied pens into SHANKS. Because of course they did. The Gold-eyes were quite proud of themselves. And he had to wrestle the pens away from them. He's STILL finding hidden pen contraband. Of course, stabby pens aside? He doesn't want to treat them like ANIMALS. They're not! He's pretty sure.

Just? Weirdly... glitchy.

They did like his fake supermarket. They like to "stock" shelves with things they find. And then later come back and "buy" things with monopoly money from a mannequin in a work apron. Sometimes they use the plastic toy food to make a pretend dinner. Act out the whole charade of serving food and going in to buy food, watching sports, doing things they've no doubt observed others do.

He had to set up a whole host of play areas and climbing zones like that.

He's pretty sure they're either mimicking or acting out bits of memories from when they were alive. Either way, it's good and ultimately harmless socialization. So have at it. Just? Please stop playing "family dinner" at his table? He can't keep replacing doors.

Well, he CAN. Thanks to Mr. Wayne. But it's a pain in the butt, guys! And breakfast while you poke at your fake fruit is awkward! I know you don't mean it, but let him have his ecto first!

"Okay." Danny slowly laid the already cold body back onto the table, ready to slide back it into the refuge of cold storage. "Okay. Dead guy. Stay there."

The body didn't move.

"Fantastic. Now. Hang out while I pour the embalming fluid into the pump, alright? It should only be a minute."

And it usually did; working in a funeral home wasn't extremely glamorous, but it paid the bills, and Danny had already been used to the rhyme and rhythm of negotiating death with the public by the time he sent in his mortuary school application. It had been a transition that made sense. And in the end, the degree had only cost him a few extra years post-graduation and a little dig into student loans, and now Danny had a stable 12-8 job and health insurance valid in the state of new jersey.

Today, though, the pump had that decided enough was enough. With a bang and a boom, the pump spat out a cloud of smoke and clunked uncomfortably.

The dead body sat up.

Danny scrambled over to push it back down. "No. We talked about this. Dead people don't move. If you want to stay here and have me put you back together all the time, you have to stay put. Got it?"

Whatever the weird gold-eye corpses were on in Gotham, they at least listened to him on occasion. They weren't ghosts, per se— they never pinged on any of the ghost detection devices Mom and Dad had packed in his going-away-to-college bag— but they were, despite being occasionally animate, perfectly deceased.

Weird. Danny had never gotten used to it. Still, they came in droves, too eager to sit on the top of the basement stairwell and lurk in the corners and stare endlessly at them with their weird, avian eyes, and sometimes they heralded the arrival similarly weird-ass bodies that had lost their heads or their arms or their limbs through the more conventional channels.

"I'm losing too much thread to all y'all coming in all the time," Danny complained to the dead body, who, at the moment, was the only person present to blame. "Stop getting your limbs cut off. This stuff is expensive, you know. It's a specialty order."

The body didn't even have the courtesy to blink. Rude.

"At least let them bury you this time. Every time one of you darts off when my back's turned, my boss thinks I'm stealing corpses. My coworkers think I'm building my own Frankenstein or something."

The corpse neither verbalized nor blinked, but Danny hadn't expected it to; with a sigh, he rolled the corpse back into cold storage, locked its little door (not that locking it in had ever stopped it) and called it quits for the night.

It's not like anyone was paying him for the extra hours anyway.

[astranva]

Wired's Autocomplete Interview

Word Count: 1.8k

Category: Fluff

Warning: one swear word

Summary: After 3 years of being together, Harry and actress!YN are finally costars and do WIRED’s Autocomplete interview.

harry x actress!yn masterlist

..

Harry Styles & Y/N Y/L/N Answer the Web’s Most Searched Questions | Wired

“Hi, I’m Harry Styles,” Harry raised one hand up in a wave, a bashful smile on his face.

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N,” you smiled from your seat beside your boyfriend, “And this is Wired’s autocomplete interview.”

Upbeat music could be heard as the screen then shifted to show a grey background with a text written on it:

Autocomplete suggests the most common searches on the internet

The screen then moved to you and Harry again, showing a clip from the 10-minute video, “Don’t say it,” you said.

“Am I?” Harry asked.

“Oh, fuck off!” You waved him off, Harry erupting in laughter.

The screen changed again to its grey background, this time with another text:

So WIRED asked Harry Styles and Y/N Y/L/N some of the internet’s burning questions

Showing you and Harry again, you had the white foam board in your hands, looking down at it, “What is Y/N Y/L/N,” you read before peeling the white sticker, showing the rest of the sentence, “Like in real life?” 

“Very annoying, I think,” Harry joked, answering quietly with a teasing smirk on his face as he looked at you.

“Ha, ha,” you rolled your eyes jokingly at him, “What am I like in real life?”

“You’re incredible,” he said before looking at the camera, “She’s a wonderful person.”

You smiled, “You’re quite nice, too, you know?”

“Yeah?” He beamed, chuckling as you giggled.

“What is Y/N Y/L/N’s diet?” You read, before looking at the camera, “It’s,” you paused, only staring at the camera for a second before looking back at the board, “Next question.”

Harry giggled, rubbing the tip of his nose as he did.

“What is Y/N Y/L/N’s favorite Harry Styles song?” You read, humming as you looked at him.

“Good question,” he teased.

You chuckled, staying quiet in thought, “There’s too many, I can’t pick,” you said, still looking at him.

“There has to be that one song that just-like, really gets to you.”

“I really don’t know,” you laughed, “I love them all so much. There’s a song for every mood.”

“That’s a good answer,” he said with a smile, “That was a good answer.”

“Was it?” You smiled, looking back at the board, “What is Y/N Y/L/N’s favorite director?” You read, “Um, I think-God, there’s a few,” you chuckled lightly, “Right on top of my list is Greta Gerwig. I trust Greta with my whole life to just-to always give us something so raw, and just-something so beautiful and heartfelt,” you answered, “I also really love David Fincher.”

“I was very excited for you when you were in Little Women with Greta,” Harry told you.

“I called you crying when I got the role,” you giggled before looking at the camera, bringing your thumb and pinky out and near your ear to signal a phone, “I got the role as Jo March, I got the role as Jo March,” you mimicked yourself, pretending to cry.

Harry giggled, “You were so excited. I was–I was very excited for you.”

“You were,” you smiled, your lips only widening when Harry wrapped his arm around your shoulder, giving you a squeeze.

The screen then cut to Harry holding a board of his own, lips pursed for a second before he read, “Is Harry Styles,” he began before peeling the sticker, “Famous?”

“Who?” You joked.

“I have no idea who that is,” Harry went along, giggling as he did so. “Is Harry Styles single?”

Harry feigned a confused expression, furrowing his eyebrows as he glanced from the camera to you, “Am I?”

“I don’t know, are you?” You asked him, stifling your smile.

He looked back at the camera, raising one finger, “I’m actually not.”

You gasped dramatically, “Sad news. Sad, sad news.”

“It’s actually happy news,” he said, looking at you, “I’m dating someone–you might know her actually,” he teased, “This tall,” he raised his hand, “Lovely smile, very successful. She’s an Acadamy Award winner actually.”

Despite your warm cheeks and shy smile, you shook your head at the camera, “No idea who that could be.”

“Is Harry Styles a good singer?” Harry read before looking at you with a small smile and a confused face, “Am I?”

“You just want me to answer your questions for you now,” you laughed, shaking your head, “Am I?” You mimicked him, “Are you?”

“Could I be?”

“Is it possible?” 

“I guess we’ll never really know,” he shrugged with a smile.

“You got the worst person to answer questions,” you told the crew behind the camera, laughing along with them before looking at your boyfriend, “You’re an incredible singer.”

Teasingly, Harry giggled at you, “Am I?”

“Harry!” You squeezed his arm with a laugh.

The video then cut to Harry with his board again, “Is Harry Styles on a tour?” He read before nodding, “Yes, I am.”

“He’s been on tour for like 4 years,” you joked.

“4 more to go!” He exclaimed jokingly.

Reading the last question, Harry peeled the sticker off as he read, “Is Harry Styles British?”

“Don’t say it.”

“Am I?”

“Oh fuck off,” you waved him off, your curse word getting bleeped in the video as your boyfriend laughed.

The video then moved to Harry holding a new foam board, that time containing different formats.

“Is Y/N Y/L/N,” you read, leaning forward a little to peel the sticker from the board, “In a Marvel movie?” You read, looking at the camera, “I was, yeah. Just a few.”

“You were in Marvel for, like, 10 years,” Harry said quietly, looking at you.

“More than a few,” you sheepishly said.

“Like–Like all the way from The Avengers to No Way Home,” he said.

“You’ve done your homework,” you teased him with a giggle.

“I embarrassed myself on the internet for you, I think–I think I know your work well,” Harry laughed quietly.

“Aw stop it,” you sheepishly leaned onto him.

With a bling sound effect, Harry smiled at the camera.

“Is Y/N Y/L/N alive?” Harry read for you, “I mean–I think,” he looked at you, “I hope so.”

“Has anyone felt alive since 2019?” You asked with furrowed eyebrows, “I don’t know. I don’t know, beats me.”

“A lot to unpack here,” he joked.

“Next therapy session,” you laughed along with him, “Hey doc, when was the last time you felt alive?”

“2019? Same here,” Harry went along.

“How did Y/N Y/L/N and Harry Styles meet?” You read before letting an excited smile take over your face.

“The Graham Norton show,” Harry answered for you.

You nodded, “The Graham Norton show,” you repeated, “It was when I knew about this guy’s teenage crush,” you teased him, watching his cheeks grow a shade pinker.

“Alright, anyway, moving on.”

“What was that one tweet you tweeted back then?” You put your hand on his arm, “You tweeted me something.”

“Can’t remember,” with a shy, stifled smile, Harry replied quietly.

“Yes, you can!” You laughed, “Harry, come on, be a good sport.”

“I can’t remember. This is–This fake news. Rumors.”

“Something about eggs, wasn’t it?” And by the tiny groan he let out, you knew it was right, “It was,” you nodded, “You asked me how I liked my eggs in the morning.”

“She likes them scrambled,” Harry mumbled with a shy smile, “Next question!”

“How did Y/N Y/L/N get famous?” You read, “Um, I auditioned for so many things when I was younger and I remember my mom got a call one day, that was in 2005 I think, and they told her I got the role as Lulu Plummer in The Pacifier,” you said, “I think–I think I never really stopped auditioning for more projects after that then I got the role as Agent Keanna Cross in The Avengers and–I don’t know, it fell into place a little.”

“I loved you as Keanna,” Harry said, “And every character you’ve played, really.”

“That’s–That’s really sweet,” you smiled at him, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” with a smile that mirrored yours, Harry replied.

Finally, you had another board in your hands for Harry, reading the questions for him.

“What does Harry Styles smell like?” You read.

“What do I smell like?” Harry asked you, turning his head slightly and bringing his shoulder closer to his nose so he could sniff himself, “Smells like the lavender detergent we got,” he chuckled.

“Smells good, doesn’t it?” You asked him, watching as he nodded, “You smell like–I don’t know really, I think–I think you have a very unique smell. It’s not artificial, you know?”

Crossing one leg over the other, Harry intertwined his hands together on his knee, “Do explain.”

“Like I can’t say you smell like this or that perfume,” you began, “You have this distinct smell of a lot of things. Like you smell like that Tom Ford perfume you like, mixed with vanilla scented candle, and–and that cake I like to make sometimes. And I think–Oh, also, like jasmines. Those jasmines we have in the balcony,” you grinned.

Harry was blushing; lips spread in a smile, bunny teeth on full display with the dimple on his cheek as he listened to you describe his smell. He leaned onto you, moving his arm behind you to squeeze your hip, “Thank you,” he said, looking at you, “That was–That was a nice description.”

“Was it?” You smiled at him, only beaming when he hummed.

“What movie is Harry Styles and Y/N Y/L/N in?” You read.

“We’re in a movie called About Time,” Harry answered, “That will be out next month, on October 7th.”

“Mark your calendars,” you smiled.

“Mark your calendars,” Harry repeated, pointing at the camera. 

“What is Harry Styles,” you peeled the sticker off, “Song Cinema about?”

Harry chuckled before sucking in a breath, putting one hand on his hip and the other on his thigh, “Umm,” he began, “It’s about cinema.”

“You’re such a poet,” you teased him.

“Right?” Harry laughed, “What is Cinema about then? It’s, um, it’s about whatever you want.”

“Like cinema,” you joked, “It can be about cinema, going to the movies.”

Harry nodded, playing along, “Getting popcorn.”

“Movie tickets, crushed popcorn, uncomfortable seats if you want,” you added, knowing that the song, in a nutshell, was about you.

“And that’s Cinema,” he said.

“What is Harry Styles famous for?” 

To everyone’s surprise, especially the fans, Harry answered right away.

“I think for being your boyfriend, really.”

Your eyes widened, looking at the camera as you laughed.

The video then cut to both of you again, that time with neither of you holding any boards.

“I think we did well,” you said, nodding to yourself before looking at Harry.

“Yeh,” he nodded, “I think we did well, too. I think–I think my answers were better than yours.”

“Oh, oh,” your eyes widened, Harry laughing as he wrapped both arms around you. You looked at the camera, “Were you?” You mimicked him.

With the former upbeat music then playing, the screen changed to black, with Wired’s black and white logo in the middle, ending your video.

[mediocre-daydreams]

group hug (extra one-shot to "(un)requited infatuation")

read the main fic HERE

pairing: peter parker x avenger! reader

summary: you and peter have finally confessed your feelings to each other courtesy of the conniving tomfoolery of sam and bucky. everything is perfect. now you just have to face the smug motherfuckers.

warnings: swearing, mentions of tall girl 2 (lowkey it was a good watch i laughed through the whole thing because it was so horrible), tony is a brony and sam is a swiftie, mentions of sex like ONCE, wanda and nat are silly silly stupid

w/c: 1.2k

the morning after is a phrase usually reserved for regrettable one night stands and the realization that you’ve committed a heinous crime and now must go on the run. you were not expecting the morning after to be a morning tangled up in the arms of the boy who loved you, under expensive goose-down covers that a billionaire had supplied, and basking in the radiance of sunlight streaming in from your eastern facing window.

it sounded ridiculous, you knew. but one of the most horrendous days of your life had resulted in one of the most unbelievable mornings, and perhaps, an unbelievable future.

there was only one thing that could spoil your heaven—confronting the conspirators responsible for 1) having all the avengers team up to shower you in unusual amounts of affection 2) provoking peter into a fight, and 3) setting up the foundations of your new relationship.

you were not ready for that. you didn’t think you’d ever be. but for now, you could pretend a little longer.

hugging peter from behind (yes, you were the big spoon), you buried your face into his shoulder. you’d spent a good amount of time… exploring each others’ mouths… last night, and you hadn’t bothered properly changing (or stripping) into your normal sleepwear.

peter smelled like sandalwood and nutmeg and you—tucked in each others’ arms and shielded from the rest of the world between your blankets and pillows, your scent on peter was a reminder that he had already begun to find his way into your life, and that he’d be staying for a while.

peter groaned and the sheets shuffled as he rolled over to face you. never had you appreciated the sound of sheets before. it meant there was someone next to you, someone who had stayed.

“g’morning,” he murmured before promptly burying his face into your hair and falling asleep once more. you smiled into his chest, where he’d pulled you close. you’d suffocate in his shirt any time if it meant he was yours.

--

“g’morning!” bucky smirked, sipping his coffee while leaning against the countertop. you scowled at him. for some reason that you couldn’t quite decipher, those words did not sound nearly as pleasant coming from bucky’s mouth.

peter was still changing; he’d refused to leave the bed until after you’d gotten ready for the day and now he was lagging behind. 

“where’s spidey?” tony waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“ew, no! watching a big jealousy, testosterone fuelled showdown isn’t exactly a turn on, if you know what i mean.” you looked pointedly at bucky, who shrugged his shoulders carelessly.

sam sauntered in moments after with his arms in the air, stretching dramatically and covering his mouth as he stifled a loud yawn. he beamed as soon as he saw you.

“samuel,” you warned. “samuel wilson, do not look at me like that.”

“samuel,” he mimicked, pitching his voice up an octave. “i’m not looking at you anything but normally. you know what i am looking at?” sam waved to something behind you. “hey peter parker!” he drawled, stretching out his words. peter looked murderous, and you couldn’t really blame him.

“i swear to god, sam—”

“hey, you got the girl, right? jarvis, play ‘how you get the girl’ by taylor swift.” he threw his arm around peter’s shoulder and you were reminded of the last time you’d seen them like that, when sam and bucky had formed their evil master scheme. you shuddered. yesterday was not a day you wanted to relive.

“look man, i’m sorry. but let’s be honest, you weren’t going to do anything about it, were you? not until months later. technically none of us actually made a move. we just… we were just nicer.” sam turned to you. “not that we’re not normally nice to you. we were just extra nice, because-” sam tilted his head towards a disgruntled peter, “-of this one here.”

peter wrangled himself out of sam’s hold. he busied himself with making breakfast to avoid conversation.

“so, we wanna know all the juicy gossip,” wanda and nat sat you down and begged for details. out of all your teammates, you knew you couldn’t stay mad at wanda and natasha. they were the people you’d confided in about peter, after all. and they’d never tried to pull something to the same extent of bucky and sam, so for that, you had to be grateful.

“okay, okay, i’ll tell you,” you caved, motioning for them to lean in. they did so eagerly. “we went to my room… he confessed his undying love for me and presented me with a bouquet of red roses… and then from underneath my bed came a barrage of spiders that climbed all over me and gave me mini hugs, and then we had really wild, nasty, loud make-up sex.”

wanda and natasha pulled back, disappointed. “i feel like half that story is true and the other half isn’t, but at the same time, i didn’t hear anything last night. but he is spiderman, so does he actually have the ability to control spiders, or something?” wanda questioned, turning to nat.

“i mean, i believe the roses thing. the kid always had a flair for the dramatic. but he doesn’t seem smooth enough to tell someone he loved them. i mean, he literally couldn’t hold a conversation with you for months.”

“i vote going to your room, the red roses, and the spider hugs are true,” wanda decided. natasha nodded in agreement.

you pursed your lips. “yes! that’s exactly it,” you lied, giving them two thumbs up. they high fived each other proudly.

“c’mon man, say something,” bucky prodded. peter was still awkwardly going through the movements of her normal morning routine, trying his best to avoid eye contact with bucky and sam. you felt a little bad for him. yesterday was mostly about targeting him and not you, and if you were upset by the matchmaking, you could only imagine how peter was feeling.

sam and bucky raised their eyebrows in surprise as peter suddenly turned around to face them. they braced themselves for an angry outburst or a yelled lecture, but instead, peter’s voice was quiet as he mumbled something unintelligible.

“huh?” bucky cupped an ear. “i’m 106, bro. you gotta speak up.”

“whampedntagrl,” peter muttered.

bucky and sam looked at each other. “a little louder, please?”

“what happened in tall girl 2,” peter hissed. bucky and sam were able to keep their composures for a grand total of four seconds before breaking into howling, drawn out laughter.

“you guuuuys!” tony squealed, clapping his hands together, delighted. “this is the power of friendship. jarvis, play the my little po-”

“alright!” you stood up. “i think it’s time-”

“-it’s time for a group hug!” tony exclaimed, excited that he was finally the one to initiate a team bonding exercise instead of steve. “bring it in, folks!”

you were squished into natasha’s side and your face was plastered into sam’s back, but as you choked through tony’s tight grip, you managed to smile. your friends were stupid, conniving, idiotic assholes. but those same friends had been the people who brought you and peter together. you hated yourself for it, but you loved these little shits.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

peter parker masterlist | main masterlist

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@im-a-slut-for-fluff @bambamwolf87 @yourallihave

[sinner-as-saint]

Wreck My Plans.

Mob!Bucky x Reader AU

Run-through: Taking time off work, you come back to your hometown for the holiday season, and you decide to go clubbing with a few friends. There, in the middle of the dark, loud room your eyes meet with a pair of familiar blue ones. Ones which you never thought you’d see again after so many years. There he was, your ex-boyfriend; Bucky Barnes. 

Themes: mob!bucky, smut, fluff, 

a/n: i missed my Sin Army. Happy evermore day. And to my Marvel fam, how we doin’ after those trailers?!

Time stopped. 

One minute the music was deafening and the next, you couldn’t even hear it. All you could focus on was your current, erratic heartbeat as you stared into a pair of stormy, blue eyes. They looked darker and much more mesmerizing than you remember. 

His name echoed in your head as a smile formed on your face. Bucky. 

The smile on his face mimicked yours as he walked over to you at the bar, crossing the ocean of drunk people swaying to the music. Amongst the crowd he crossed, were some of your friends who ditched you just minutes ago to go have fun with a pair of dudes they met just upon entering the club. 

You could join them, but rubbing your body against a stranger’s sweaty body was not what you intended to do tonight so you stayed back at the bar. 

Good thing you did so, else you wouldn’t have noticed Bucky on the other side of the room. 

You smiled a little brighter once he stood in front of you. Very, very well dressed in his dark suit. 

“Is it really you?” he spoke, teasing you right away. Just like he used to. 

You smiled and rolled your eyes at him, mainly to hide your nervousness as you realized how much deeper his voice had gotten. Or how much more attractive he was. He had always been a hottie, now even more so. Muscular and tall, even with the suit on you could tell he had a body to die for. 

You and Bucky broke up right after graduating high school. You moved for uni while he stayed behind and joined his family business. It wasn’t a messy break up, just two 18-year-olds deciding to end a relationship and focus on their futures. 

You finished college a few years later then moved again, for your dream job. And now, almost 7 years later, you were back in your hometown for the holidays for the first time in a long time. 

“It is. How have you been, Buck?” 

He smiled and took the seat right beside you. “Great.” he wasn’t lying. “You?” 

You let out a little laugh. “Are we seriously gonna do the whole work and the weather thing?” you asked, and he laughed. 

Oh how you had missed his laugh. It’s been years since you saw him, but everything about him was so familiar it hurt. The way his eyes closed when he smiled or laughed too hard. The blue in his eyes, the crinkles by them. The perfect shape of his nose which you always teased him for. 

Everything about him reminded you of a simpler, happier time of your life. 

He stared into your eyes for a few seconds, then smiled in nostalgia. “You’re just as pretty.” 

You rolled your eyes again, casually ignoring the sparks which flew in between you two. 

“Oh please. Enough about me, what about you? You’re quite the talk of the town I heard.” It was true, they were saying all sorts of things about him ever since you came home. No one knew where he lived, whether he was in town currently or no - he was, you just confirmed it a few minutes ago. 

“Yeah? What have you heard so far?” he spoke with a smirk on. Words didn’t affect him anymore. 

You raised an eyebrow. “So the rumors are true?” 

He chuckled, and signaled the bartender to bring him a drink. You watched each of his actions cautiously. Everything about him screamed power. His stance, his movements, his poise. You had heard around that his dad’s business was doing poorly years ago and he turned to some shady stuff. And he dragged his son along. Something about mob, gangs and illegal stuff. You had trouble believing it at first, because you knew him. You knew Bucky and you couldn’t imagine someone as gentle as him being associated with this side of life. 

But the smirk he gave you proved all those rumors and theories to be true. 

“Oh,” you wondered why you didn’t feel the slightest bit afraid. “Well, it suits you.” You scanned him quickly and wondered where you got the confidence to do that. 

You were right, it did suit him. The power, the mean yet magnetic demeanor, the way he could get absolutely everyone to stare at him in awe and fear - truly, it did suit him. 

He smiled and took a sip of his drink, then placed his glass down. “You should be running for the hills, not complimenting me. Is that what your strict, conservative father taught you?” The last part was an inside joke so he couldn’t hide his smile. 

You shook your head. Bucky and your dad never gelled well. Ever. “Leave dad out of this, he still hates you by the way.” your words made him chuckle at some memories. “So now what, you have gangs and guns and stuff?” you asked. 

“Yeah I’m kind of the bad guy around here.” 

You laughed. He stared at you in complete awe and he couldn’t help but smile. He felt it too, the pull or sparks or whatever it was that was preventing him from looking away. Like as though something had tied him to you and he couldn’t get away and he definitely didn’t want to. 

“You’re here with someone?” he asked, looking around and hoping you’d say no because he hated the thought of you being here with another man. Which was weird because he was meeting you for the first time in years, yet he was already feeling so protective. 

And that skin-tight coral dress you were wearing wasn’t helping either. 

“With some girl friends,” you replied and he quietly let out a sigh of relief, “But it seems they’re nowhere to be found.” You looked around and couldn’t see them. They were wild party animals anyways. 

Bucky smiled and got up from his seat, extending his arm out for you to take. “Come on then, let’s get out of here.” 

You took the last sip of your wine and took his hand. You let him guide you to the back of the club. “You know the owners?” you asked, seeing he was so comfortable in the space. He chuckled. 

“I am the owner, doll.” he answered in that cocky, velvety voice of his. And that nickname, that damn nickname brought back so many memories; they came flooding back in like it was no one’s business. 

The first time he kissed you. Prom. That road trip you took together. All the ones you planned but couldn’t take. All the times you snuck out of the house to hang out at his place. The one time you got caught and how your dad almost lost his shit completely. The time you had your biggest fight and didn’t talk for two whole days. How he apologized first for that one. 

You remembered everything. 

He held the door open for you as you slid into the passenger seat of his slick, black car. He was quiet when he got into the driver’s seat. But the silence was comfortable, like the kind you have around your closest friends and family; where you’re just happy with sharing space and air, just knowing the other is here and not having the need to fill the silence with useless talks. The kind of silence which spoke louder than words ever could. Comforting, and warm. 

He pulled into the entrance of a private property and your eyes widened for a brief moment. “You live here? This is your home?” you asked, a little surprised at the grandeur of the mansion in front of you, which grew bigger and bigger as you approached it. 

“One of my houses, yes.” he replied, cocky as always. 

You playfully scoffed. “Showoff.” you muttered, loud enough for him to hear and laugh at. 

He got out of the car and walked around to open the door for you. You rolled your eyes at his antics, “You don’t have to do all that, you know?” you teased. 

He chuckled and casually reached down to hold your hand in his as he guided you over to the front door. It was chilly out, so he walked a little faster. “Oh come on, I know I’m the bad guy now but I'm chivalrous enough to treat my ex-girlfriend right.” he played along, knowing exactly which word would get a reaction out of you. 

“Ouch.” you pretended to be hurt. He laughed as he ushered you into his home. 

The first thing you noticed were the guards. Then the extravagant foyer which led to the equally extravagant living room. The color theme, the lovely smell of the house, there was something about it which was so familiar, yet you couldn’t place a finger on it. 

“You have a beautiful home, Buck.” you looked around and noticed that the guards had left. 

He smiled and let go of your hand, letting you walk around his personal space for a bit. He could get used to this, the thought popped into his head out of nowhere. He could get used to seeing you in his home. 

“Come on up, you’ll love the library.” he spoke and extended his arm out again. You took his hand and he led you up the large, fancy wooden stairs. 

He was right. You did immediately fall in love with his library/study room. It was everything one dreams of. Spacious, yet cosy. Modern, but with a vintage twist. The right amount of light, but not too much. It was beautiful. 

You walked a few steps further and started noticing the little things; like the mini bar, the unused typewriter on the desk, the scattered papers next to it, the chandelier which made the room look magical. 

“This is beautiful.” you commented as you lazily skimmed through the books on the shelves. You heard him move around glasses in the background. 

“Thank you.” he paused, pouring himself a drink. “You want a drink?” 

You turned to face him for a brief moment. He had taken off his coat, leaving him in his very expensive looking black shirt. “Sure.” you answered, then you turned back around to check out the books and you could feel him staring at your back. You smirked as not so holy thoughts filled your head. 

How would tonight end? You wondered. 

You walked over to his desk and plopped down on his large seat. He walked over as well, placing your glass down and leaning against the edge of the table, staring down at you with a smirk on and a look in his eyes which you couldn’t quite understand. 

“What?” you laughed as you took a sip of the liquor. It was smooth, and sweet and left an amazing aftertaste in your mouth as it slid down your throat, burning just a little. It tasted expensive. 

“Nothing.” He replied, softly as he eyed you carefully. “I just can’t believe you’re here, after all this time.” 

You smiled and looked up at him. “Things changed, haven’t they? I mean, the Bucky I knew hated whiskey and brandy. He liked cheap beers and vodka.” you pointed out. 

Bucky smiled and rolled his eyes, shoving a hand in his pocket out of habit. Suddenly he looked much younger and very boyish. “He changed, Y/N.” 

This was the first time he used your name tonight and you felt funny inside. The good kind of funny. 

“Mhmm.” you agreed. “He got meaner.” you teased and stood up from the seat, and looked past him. Right by the couches, was a small coffee table upon which something shiny caught your attention. And being the curious being you are, you walked right over without a second thought. 

“You think?” he sounded playful as he watched you walk over to the coffee table where his guns were kept. He doesn’t usually leave them out in the open like this but he was cleaning them earlier so he left them there. 

Bucky watched how you picked one up and examined it. 

“Yeah,” you spoke up without taking your eyes off the hand gun. “He got dangerous.” You weirdly liked how it felt in your hands. A little heavier than you thought it would be. 

He was surprised at how comfortable you were with this side of him. Another woman would turn the other way and would run. But not you. “Be careful with that, doll.” he warned you softly. “They’re all loaded.” 

You smirked as you placed the gun down and picked up another. And you sensed him tensing up where he stood. 

“Don’t touch that one.” he said calmly. You frowned. 

“Why not?” you asked. 

He placed his glass down and walked over to you. “I’ve done bad things with that one. I’ve hurt bad people.” 

You knew your way around a gun. Your father used to hunt as a hobby so you knew the gun was locked. But just for the hell of it, you aimed it at him and smirked. “Yeah? I think I like this new Bucky a lot better.” 

He smirked, loving the fact that the city didn’t diminish your spunk. He realized then that you were still the same girl he fell for in highschool. “Careful.” he warned again, giving you a soft smile. Seeing you like this made him want to do bad things to you. He felt hot as he watched you aim a gun at him. He didn’t know why. 

“Scared?” you teased, loving the reaction you got out of him. The buzz of the wine earlier and the whiskey just now amplified your confidence and you loved it. 

Oh fuck you looked hot. It made it hard for him to focus on anything else. “Put it down, Y/N.” he kept his devilishly handsome smirk on. You held your ground and it made him groan and roll his eyes. He approached you and you giggled. He carefully took the gun from you and placed it back down on the table, then without another word said, he circled his arm around you and pulled you closer. “Good girls don’t play with those. You used to be so obedient, what happened?” he teased. 

You smirked, finding his body heat really comforting. “I’ve changed.” you purposely repeated his own words, then added, “Maybe I’m not such a good girl anymore.” you purred. He clenched his jaw and exhaled loudly. 

“Don’t tease me baby girl. I’m not as nice as I used to be.” his words made you all hot and bothered. 

You smirked. “Prove it.” 

And just like that, with one look of his, you were under his spell. He smirked and leaned in, purposely avoiding your lips as he gently kissed his way along your jaw. You shivered when his lips touched your neck; leaving soft kisses along the side of your throat while his hand wrapped tighter around your waist. 

He made you whimper and whine, you could feel him smirk against your skin. He pulled away after a while, and held your chin in between his forefinger and his thumb, and he looked into your eyes with an intensity which made your body tingle. His thumb soon moved up to touch your soft lips gently. He traced the shape of your mouth and spoke, “I’ve missed you.” he looked down at you softly. 

Your lips parted as he trailed his fingers down your chin, down your neck before he gently wrapped his fingers around your throat, applying just a bit of pressure there. You smirked as you looked up at him. “Not so sassy now, are we?” he sounded cocky and in control, just how you liked him. 

And suddenly all those years which had gone by didn’t mean a thing. You picked up right where you left off. The spark was still there. 

“Buck… please,” you whined under your breath. Oh how he had missed this… 

He chuckled. “Come here, baby girl.” he walked a few steps backwards and plopped down on the couch, pulling you onto his lap where you fit perfectly. A soft, unexpected moan left your lips as he slipped his hand under your dress and inched higher and higher up your leg, and caressed your inner thigh as he went. 

He smirked when you moaned and kept going. He leaned in to kiss your jaw and down your neck; his stubble brushing against your skin gently. His lips warm and soft as they peppered your skin with kisses, making you instinctively tilt your neck to give him easier access. He chuckled when you visibly trembled as his knuckles brushed against the front of the flimsy thong you were wearing. He couldn’t wait to tear it off your body. 

His need to have you grew with each passing moment. Hot, fiery, burning desire. Bucky slipped his hand past your underwear and touched your wet folds, his two fingers circling around your clit, “You’re dripping, doll.” He chuckled as you moaned when he slowly pushed a finger past your entrance. Then another and started gently pumping them in and out of you.

Your body throbbed. You whined, throwing your head back and letting him do whatever he wanted with your body. 

Bucky looked up at you in pure adoration as he placed his thumb on your throbbing clit and brushed it occasionally while he finger-fucked you; your wetness dripping and smearing all over his hand; his fingers touched you in all the right places; curling just right and massaging your walls perfectly. His other hand gently wrapped around your neck; not squeezing yet but just holding you firmly. 

You got a little louder as he sped up; his fingers slipping in and out of you with ease and eliciting sounds which turned you on even more. Seeing you were whining and whimpering already, Bucky moved his hand from your throat and pushed two fingers into your mouth; slowly pumped those two as well; an obscene attempt to keep you quiet. 

Your mouth immediately wrapped around his fingers. And he swore under his breath again at the sight of you so salacious and open; his fingers buried in your wet core, slipping in and out of you rapidly while his other two fingers were buried into your warm mouth. The sounds you made alone were enough to make his pants feel tighter; and make him want to devour you even more. You moaned when he sped up again; his fingers stroking your walls perfectly and increasing the sweet, almost agonizing pressure forming in between your hips. You felt a rush and a warmth washing over you; intensified by his tight grip at your throat.

“Are you gonna cum for me, doll?” he asked, leaning in to just bite your lip; not kissing you properly but just biting down and nibbling on your lower lip and making you go crazy. You whined in pleasure and nodded. He sped up again; and you rolled your hips against his hand in a haze – chasing your orgasm; moaning and whimpering. “Cum for me, come on, babygirl.” He encouraged you and tightened his grip around your throat just a little bit more.

You let the familiar waves of pleasure wash over you as you came all over his fingers; crying out loud in pleasure. Gushing out all over his hand as he kept pumping them in and out of you, getting everything he could out of you. Once satisfied, he removed his hand from your underwear and pulled his hand back from your throat and wrapped both his arms around you and pulled you closer to him, causing your sensitive core to brush against his crotch. And you could feel his erection. 

“You have no idea how bad I’ve missed you, baby girl.” He whispered against your parted lips. “I searched for you, but I couldn’t find a way to get to you.” 

“Buck…” your hands reached up to cup his face and you pulled away just a little to look down at him. “I’m here.” you whispered, breathless still. 

He wasted no time in pressing his lips to yours. He finally pressed his lips to yours and kissed you like there’s no tomorrow; there was nothing gentle or innocent about the kiss, just hunger and passion and pure craving. His soft lips moved perfectly against yours through the messy kiss. He moaned through the kiss when you slid your hands into his hair and tugged on it gently. His hands rested on the curve of your ass; holding you close to him as he gently pulled away from the kiss and stared into your eyes. 

He gripped your waist and pressed your cloth core onto his, making you grind against him; causing you to feel his hard on through his pants. You almost moaned at how big and firm he felt. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, and your body shuddered as a wave of pleasure washed over you while you shamelessly rocked your hips ever so gently against his clothed hard on. He smirked at your involuntary actions. 

“Fuck… I need to have you. Now.” he growled before pushing you down on the couch and hovering on top of you. He purposely pressed his crotch down in between your parted legs, making you moan at how fucking big he felt. “You feel that?” he breathed into your ear and made you shiver at how deep his voice sounded. You could almost feel the lust in his voice. “You did that, babygirl.” He pulled away from your face a little to look at you, smirking. 

He kissed his way down your body, sliding your dress down your body while at it. You felt his mouth in between your thighs. Your back arched off the surface of the couch as his tongue slowly circled your throbbing clit and licked down, parting your wet folds with ease. 

Your taste drove him wild, so did your soft whimpers. Your hand flew to his hair and you tugged on it gently as he flicked his tongue over your clit over and over again. His stubble rubbed against your sensitive skin incessantly, and the friction burned a little but it was the kind of pain you kept wanting more of.

His deep blue eyes watched you in awe and how you lost control under his touch; legs shaking as he teased your entrance with the tip of his tongue. His hands wrapped around your thighs, securing you in his grip as he pushed his face further into you, making you cry out loud. You came violently all over Bucky’s tongue, body shuddering and shaking while you moaned his name out loud. It gave him a pleasant rush when he heard your strained voice moan out his name. 

He kissed your inner thighs, licking you clean before kissing his way up your body and finding your lips again. He kissed you with ardor; eager to just be inside you already and make you squirm and shake under him, but he also wanted to cherish each moment and worship your body. You felt his tongue stroke the top of your mouth, and his hands touched you wherever he could; your breasts, your waist – leaving trails of goosebumps wherever his fingers touched your skin.

He pulled away for a bit and grabbed both your wrists and pinned them down on the couch above your head. “Keep your hands there for me, baby girl.” He mumbled under his breath and lifted his hips to align his erected cock to your entrance. You instinctively spread your legs apart to give him more room. His hand reached down and he pumped his cock, rubbing it all over your dripping core in the process. You squirmed and moaned when he did so; the tip of his cock rubbing up and down your wet lips, parting them as he circled your clit gently. You shuddered under him; whining in need. Your body begging him to just take you already. 

“Look at me.” He almost moaned as he whispered a little breathlessly, looking intensely into your eyes. The dimmed lights made his eyes look darker than usual, and his face looked dangerously handsome. His voice was deep – which caused the butterflies in your stomach to go crazy. With a slow, steady push, he inserted his length into you. You shuddered as you felt all of him. You heard his ragged breaths as he removed himself out and pushed himself back into you again.

You moaned out loud, unable to hold back the sound which escaped your lips. “Fuck…” was all you were able to mutter under your breath as he pulled out of you completely, then pushed back into you again; filling you up entirely.

He sped up just a little, rocking his hips against yours and his hand reached up to wrap around your neck gently. He stared into your eyes, speeding up into you again. He leaned in to kiss your open mouth, shamelessly shoving his tongue past your parted lips and stroking the inside of your mouth. You could only nod senselessly, overwhelmed by how good he felt deep inside you. His lips left your mouth and kissed down your face. You let out a moan as he found your sweet spot, and felt him smirk against your skin. You moaned again as he bit and licked the skin beneath your jaw, all while slamming into you relentlessly; stretching you out and pounding into you like his life depended on it.

You could no longer keep your hands off him so you reached out and held onto his shoulders; your nails digging into his skin as you felt a pressure forming around your lower region. Bucky quickened his pace and pounded into you harder than before; the sounds of your skin slapping one another resonated around the room. 

The dim light made his eyes look even more piercing than usual. Your legs trembled as you wrapped them around his waist. The new position was much more pleasurable for the two of you; the tip of his cock touched your most sensitive spots and your back arched off the couch – your chest pressing against his partially unbuttoned shirt; his body heat radiating through the fabric.

You moaned out loud and he very gently tightened his grip around your throat. His voice cracked as he whimpered in your ear. He somehow sounded needy but in control at the same time, and it drove you crazy. You felt your walls clench around him, and tighten around his thick member; making him swear out loud.

“Cum for me, babygirl. Come on.” he panted against your cheek, kissing the side of your face and gripping your jaw with his hand. He didn’t slow down as you felt your orgasm wash over you, he kept pounding into you as your eyes rolled back and you moaned out his name as you came – hard.

You whimpered at how he kept slamming into you even after you came, and your face burned as you felt the knot forming again right at your core. Bucky fucked you relentlessly; not even stopping for a second. He panted and groaned at how good you felt and shamelessly told you about it; whispering against your skin about how perfect you felt around him – wet and warm all for him. You moaned as you felt your second release approaching while the first was still fading. Your legs were numb, and your body moved along with his like a rag doll; yet, you wanted more of what he had to give. You craved him.

A rush coursed through your veins as you felt your mind clouding with lust again. His large frame hovering above you as he tightened his grip around your throat just a little more. “Cum for me again, come on.” He growled, his lips dangerously close to yours as you whined and whimpered under him.

A series of cuss words left your lips as you came for the second time in a row, walls tightening around his length. He bit down on your lip as you lifted your hips to meet his thrust; chasing your release. Your body trembled under him as you came again; gushing out around his cock while he still pounded relentlessly into you before slowing down again.

He kissed you again, while you tried to steady your breathing and calm your racing heart. He chuckled when he pulled away to look at how disheveled and messy you were all because of him. His hand left his throat and his thumb traced your lips again, he was mesmerized by how much of a whimpering, tear-stained mess you were. 

“It’s okay doll, I’m right here.” 

---

You woke up in his bed. 

And the flashbacks of the time spent there hit you immediately. 

You felt his arms around you as you peaked from under the blanket to try and reorient yourself. The room was brighter. You checked the time and it was around ten in the morning. 

Well, there goes that family breakfast you promised your parents. 

You felt Bucky stir in his sleep behind you. He peeled one eye open and smiled at the sight of you still in his bed. 

“Morning baby girl,” he said in a deep, groggy morning voice which made your heart flip. 

“I have plans with my family, you know? You’re just, shamelessly wrecking them.” You teased and watched how his smirk grew. His arm tightened around your body, under the covers. His touch was warm and gentle as he tugged you closer to his equally warm body. 

Your bare chest pressed against his and you looked up and stared into his blue eyes. They were so dreamy you still couldn’t believe they were real. 

“Oh please. Admit it, you like it better here with me rather than being confined in that old man’s house.” He rolled his eyes as he mentioned your dad. 

You giggled. Him and your dad always hated each other. 

“Imagine what he’d say once he finds out I’ve been hanging out with the bad guy. Again.” You played along. 

Bucky laughed and leaned in to kiss your forehead. “I’ll deal with him. I’d do anything for you.” he whispered softly, the last part even more so. 

Your heart did that thing where it felt like it was bursting into a millions little pieces in the best ways. The butterflies in your stomach went wild at the sound of his morning voice. You looked up at him and then leaned in to kiss his neck softly. 

“I missed you, you know?” 

“Hmm, I know.” 

You giggled and hugged him tighter. “What now?” you asked, thinking about what would happen two weeks from now, when you’d have to get back to the city. 

His chest rose and fell as he took a deep breath. “I was planning on expanding my… business to another city. How is it over there?” he asked, a smirk forming on his face as he waited for your reaction. 

Your eyes widened as you quickly pulled away and sat up on his bed with a shocked look on your face. “You’re moving?” 

He smiled at you. “I’ll go wherever you go at this point. I just got you back, I'm not giving up on us this time.” 

“Are you sure about this? Our lives… they’re so different.” you looked down at your lap as you spoke. “Will we make it?” 

He sat up and leaned against the headboard, pulling you onto his lap, caging you in his arms. “Oh we will.” Then he looked past you for a brief moment, out the floor-to-ceiling windows. He noticed the snow falling delicately. It was truly beautiful, but nothing matched how pretty you looked - messy hair, swollen lips, love bites all over your skin. 

He leaned in to kiss you, then whispered against your lips. “We will make it doll, don’t you worry. Just trust me.” 

a/n: ily.

[cantfightmoonlight]

"Make sure I and everyone else does," She tagged on. Her own teasing look dancing across her gaze as she gave him a playful poke in the chest. "The everyone else part is important and not to be forgotten, Charming," Bri teased, being more than well aware that their playful banter was nothing more a string of pretty words. Meaningless promises exchanged back and forth without much weight tied to them. But, for a girl whose entire upbringing had been based in meaningless promises and eased small talk, she found herself being thankful for Ben for offering her some semblance of normalcy even if they both knew that any talk of her being of any importance to him or a priority was likely only that of make believe. "I'm aware. Only I wasn't referring to your literary critique. I was referring to how you said," She paused, clearing her throat as she made her best attempt at mimicking his deep voice back at him. " 'Let me treat you right before I treat you well.' It seemed fairly poetic to me? And yes, you. You, my dear basket date, are the definition of trouble," She countered once more. Shaking her head as she tried to resist an ever growing smile herself. "You with that annoyingly perfect face of yours and your- your candlelit dinners and talk of stability. You are trouble and I'm guessing far too easy to get swept up in."

"I don't see passion as flowery words though. I see passion as ambition. Knowing what you want and having the drive to go after it and, yes, it can manifest itself as lust with pretty words and romanticized ideals, but who says it couldn't also manifest itself as something more grounded in reality? And maybe 'all or nothing' is the way most people see it, but I guess that makes me not like most people, hm?" She offered up. Only for a laugh of her own to break from his lips at the mention of him making her dinner first. "Technically you were the one who wanted to make me dinner first, Mr. Treat Me Right, Before You Treat Me Well," She teased, reaching up to pretend to catch the wink before she blew a light kiss back at him. Slipping down from the barstool, Bri shot him one more passing glance as she followed his instructions to where he mentioned his bedroom was. "Now, about these books-" She hummed out, taking his lack of answer as a yes. Not that it would be all that surprising if he did. There was a reason she had referred to him as trouble after all, because as enticing as stability may seem, she knew that unlike Romeo, Ben's pretty words were likely, intentionally or not, a way to hold others at a distance.

"You should. And here I've been giving you all of this expert advice. I'm surprised you haven't been taking notes already," She teased some more. Her eyes, meanwhile, lighting up as she carefully moved to pluck up one of his many novels from the shelf in his room. Gently turning it over in her hands, she moved to sneak a peak at the inside cover. "Is this a first edition?" She called out to him, a mix of jealous and admiration not lost in her voice. "And thank you. Though, I wouldn't know? I don't typically talk about books all too much? I guess that also makes you an exception," Bri admitted. "Well, there is that whole impending doom thing you just mentioned and, as the Managing Director of the Pendulum, I don't really know how fair it would be if I went around casting myself as the lead in all of my own shows? But, also, I don't know? I," She pressed her lips together, not sure how to exactly phrase it. "I used to perform on Broadway? When I was little and I know if you're passionate about acting, it shouldn't matter where you're performing as long as you can still do what you love, but... but despite knowing all of that, it sort of feels like I already peaked and anything I do now won't quite live up? It's like if you, as an English Professor, were told that starting from tomorrow on, you'd be working as a TA instead of a professor and no matter how much work you put in, you'll never be able to able to reclaim the position you previous held and loved? And that point, I guess it sort of seemed better to pursue what I loved under a different vein, directing the plays rather than be up on the stage chasing a dream I can never reclaim? If that makes any sense at all? But, what about you? Why teaching?"

"And maybe not? But, Mhm. No," Bri scrunched up her nose at the thought of mixing ketchup and ice cream together. "I don't really do adventure or spontaneity? The last time I did, I ended up dead. But, I'll tell you what? How about you try ketchup and ice cream together and if you can eat the entire thing without making a face, then maybe, just maybe, I'll try it. What do you say, Trouble?"

"An arduous task, to make sure that you know it every single time how you're the dearest and most darling," Ben teased, "but I suppose I can manage since it's you." He'd always been good with this aspect of relationships. People liked pretty words, and they liked them even more when they were said in pretty ways. And Ben was no slouch; he could follow through on what he said. Relationships were easy in the beginning. It was the getting to know each other, really know each other, that could be hard. Ben devoted his life to many people, many things. It was hard to narrow that focus down when it really mattered. He could accept that, open up to that, be honest about that with partners. It just wasn't something many people wanted to hear, to know they likely weren't going to be a priority.

"Literary critique isn't the same as poetry, not matter how metaphorical it can be," he argued lightly. He grinned as she gasped before giving her plenty of space, keeping his hands to himself. "Trouble? Me? I like to think I'm a bit too stable in my life to be trouble," he said. He had a stable career, a home, all the comfort that a man could need. What was more stable than that? What said trouble less than that? "Was it not his passion for Rosaline that made him dramatic in the first place, before he turned that passion tenfold onto Juliet? Now, if you want a poet, that would be dear Romeo. A young fool, yes, but one with flowery words. Passion is flowery words. It's lust wearing a nice suit. Not love, not yet, though in love there is passion. It's so hard to control how brightly passion burns. All or nothing is the way that most people see it." He laughed. "And here I thought you wanted me to make you dinner first. But, if you want to go see the books in my bedroom, then by all means. It's right down the hall." He gave her a wink, not answering the question.

"Maybe I should right some of this down, then. If I'm such a poet," Ben said. "Well, I for one appreciate your appreciation. You're quite good at it, you know. Why 'were'? What's stopping you from being an actress now? Other than, of course, the mild case of impending doom that the town seems to be under? You could still act around here, though." He'd been to the playhouse in town before and had always thought it was quite delightful. He laughed along with her, shaking his head. "You say that, but you're still here, so I don't think you mean it," he teased. "And you can call it whatever you like: side dish, accompaniment. Just know that you don't have to mix the two together unless you want to. It might be good, actually." He thought about it for a moment. "Have you ever tried ketchup and ice cream? It might be good. Where's your sense of adventure?"

[mizunetzu]

iwaizumi finding out hes gay and having an extreme gay panic when they get their new manager in aoba johsai and the team teases him to hell and back for it (iwaizumi x male manager!)

Nice to see you again, boke saiikai~~ also look at iwa freak out in this gif AHAHAHA

——————

Iwaizumi x reader - Iwa-chan, Panic!

⚠️warnings - none

Pronouns - male, he/him

——————

Iwaizumi lazily scratched the itch on his stomach, not caring that his shirt was slightly lifted up and people could see his stomach if they looked. Eh, it’s not like people were around anyways.

He was already running late to practice, so he might as well reserve his energy and take a detour to the gym. It’s not like anything important was happening anyways.

“Yo.” Iwaizumi yawned, pushing the door to the gymnasium open. He slipped through, only now realizing that no one answered his greeting. He also noticed everyone was gathered into a loose semi-circle, apparently looking at something Iwaizumi couldn’t quite make out.

“What's...goin’ on guys?” Iwaizumi neared the huddle of Seijoh volleyball players. Matsukawa turned around, seemingly the only one who heard Iwaizumi in the first place. Mattsun nudged his head towards the middle of the circle, the clearing, where someone was standing.

“New manager.”

Iwaizumi’s ears perked up. Oikawa was complaining about ‘having at least one manager before he graduates’ but also ‘one that’s not one of my fangirls, because they wouldn’t take good care of the team.’ As insensitive as it sounded, having a manager drool and follow Oikawa for the majority of practice instead of doing their job does sound pretty frustrating. Iwaizumi scratched his head.

“Don’t tell me Shittykawa finally found a girl who doesn’t fawn over him.”

Matsukawa shook his head.

“Not girl.” He pointed to the boy standing there awkwardly, moving out of the way slightly so Iwaizumi could see. “It’s a boy.”

Iwaizumi’s eyes trailed from his feet, up to his firm-looking torso, and trailing around his nice-looking arms and hands. He couldn’t help himself from checking this dude out. Maybe he was just curious as to why this boy joined as a manager and not a player-

Iwaizumi’s eyes finally met the boy's glass-like (e/c) ones. He realized now that as he stared at this boy's mesmerizing eyes, his own (e/c) eyes began to stare back at him. Stare with his eyes growing wide, a cute doe-like expression on his face. But all he could see was his breathtaking, iridescent eyes.

“Uh, earth-to-(L/n)-chan?” Oikawa, who was standing next to ‘(L/n)’, waved his hand in front of his deer-in-the-headlights-face. He visibly jumped, blinking a bit, and turned his head quickly, pretending he was staring at Oikawa the whole time.

However, it wasn’t the same for Iwaizumi. He continued to stare with his mouth parted slightly, absolutely mesmerized by this guy’s handsome face. It seemed so...holdable. Like he wanted to walk up to him and hold his face in his callused hands and just...stand there. Forever. Squishing his cute face in his hands.

Cute? Cute? No. No. No. Not cute. Iwaizumi Hajime was not finding a man cute. No, not in a million years.

So why was his heart pounding in his ears so much?

His heart wouldn’t calm down. His everything wouldn’t calm down. He couldn’t tear his eyes off the new manager boy in front of him, immersing himself in conversation with a blush to shake off the fact he was totally staring back. He couldn’t help but feel confused. For once, he felt jealous of Oikawa. Not because he wanted to be popular or stalked by fangirls or anything, but because this boy’s full attention would be on him, and not Shitty-Crappy-Stupidkawa.

Matsukawa snapped his fingers in front of Iwaizumi’s face, smirking when he threw his head back in surprise with the reddest face he’s ever seen him with. Iwaizumi blinked, blankly, trying to process what just happened, before somehow exploding into a deeper shade of red.

“Are you sick or something?” Matsukawa placed the back of his hand on Iwaizumi’s forehead jokingly. “Oh. Nevermind.”

“Wh...I-I...huh..?”

“You’re just gay.” Matsukawa wiped his hand on his practice shirt. “Super gay. Super highschool level gay. You were totally checking out Manager-kun there.”

Iwaizumi grabbed Matsukawa by the collar, shaking him around in hopes of shaking the truth out of him.

“I-I’m not!”

“First symptom: denial.”

“Shut up-!”

“E-excuse me…?” Iwaizumi stopped dead in his tracks. Matsukawa was one second away from bursting out into cackles at Iwaizumi’s impossibly pale face. They both slowly craned their necks towards the foreign voice. Iwaizumi suddenly forgot how to breathe.

He, ‘Manager-kun’, seemed more utterly breathtaking up close. He was standing right infront of Iwaizumi, looking directly at him with his attractive (e/c) eyes. He didn’t even realize when Matsukawa wormed out of his grasp.

“(L/n)-san, good afternoon.” Matsukawa bowed slightly. “My name’s Matsukawa Issei, by the way. Thank you again for being our manager. We look forward to working with you.”

“Ah...thank you.”

When Matsukawa looked back at Iwaizumi, expecting him to introduce himself, he caught Iwaizumi staring at him with goo-goo eyes and an equally confused, frozen-stiff expression from Manager-kun himself. They stared at each other, one from awkward silence and the other from pure, unadulterated gayness. Matsukawa rolled his eyes.

“Dude!” Matsukawa jabbed Iwaizumi in the side, making him snap out of his trance with a grunt. “Don’t be rude, introduce yourself to Manager-kun!”

Iwaizumi broke into a cold sweat. He turned back to ‘Manager-kun’, attempting to look as cool as possible.

“Y-yo...the name’s Iwaizumi HaJIMe-” Iwaizumi’s voice did not want to be on his side today. The betrayers that were his vocal cords cracked mid sentence, making Iwaizumi cough horrendously in hopes of covering it up. Mattsun looked like he was going to die holding in his laughter.

“Nice to meet you, Iwaizumi-kun,” Manager-kun grasped his hand in his own, and held it for a moment. “My name’s (L/n) (Y/n).”

He, (Y/n), flashed a small, friendly smile, and Iwaizumi was taken. With the way (Y/n) held his hand so tenderly, he could probably faint. He’d rather die than let go. It was so warm, his hands were so warm. God, he felt so soft inside.

“...Y’know, if you aren't feeling well, I can take you to the nurse’s office-”

“No-! It’s-it’s fine! I’m fine!” Iwaizumi sputtered, and he silently whined when (Y/n) pulled his hand back. He stepped back, and gave a small wave.

“That’s good, Iwaizumi-kun. Well, I just wanted to introduce myself to everyone. See you later, Matsukawa-kun. Iwaizumi-kun.” (Y/n) smiled again, and left to introduce himself to another teammate. Once (Y/n) was out of earshot, Matsukawa erupted into a fit of cackles.

“Pfft-ahahahahaha! Dude! Y-you-! Ahahahaha! You need to chill man! At this point everyone’s gonna know you went all-“ Mattsun mimicked Iwaizumi’s wide-eyed expression, bringing his hands together and pretending he was a moe schoolgirl. “Kyaaah! (L/n)-senpai is soooo handsome!”

“SHUUUUUT UPPPPPP!” Iwaizumi started kicking at Matsukawa’s shins and hitting his back, trying to silence his cackles and hope (Y/n) didn’t hear that. Or see the huge red blush on his cheeks.

Oikawa side-eyed Iwaizumi and Matsukawa from the net pole. His hands were still moving on setting up the net for practice, but his eyes were examining the two fellow third years roughhousing with each other. More specifically, the red that engulfed Iwaizumi’s face. Oikawa turned his attention back to the pole.

——

‘Just do it!’

Those three words played on repeat in Iwaizumi’s mind for the past 2 weeks. And they seemed to get louder when Iwaizumi arrived to practice.

‘Just do it, Hajime!’

‘No!’ Iwaizumi thought back to himself, watching as (Y/n) greeted everyone who came through the club room door. He was standing outside, holding a box with supplies stuffed in it. Iwaizumi dreadfully neared the club room.

‘Do it! Now!’

‘No! Fuck no!’

“Ah! Hello again, Iwaizumi-kun-“

“No!” Iwaizumi blurted out. He was quick to cover his mouth, but the look of confusion that knitted (Y/n’s) face was enough to tell he had heard Iwaizumi loud and clear.

“Uh. I mean. Good mor-uh good afternoon, (L/n). Sorry bout’ that.” Iwaizumi trudged into the club room as nonchalantly as he could. But once the door closed, he slumped down to his knees.

“Something wrong, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa mused, slipping on his blue practice shirt over his head. “You look like shit.”

“Y-you’re one to talk, Shittykawa! Go die!”

“Uuu! How mean! Mean Iwa-chan!”

“Yeah yeah.” Iwaizumi hastily slipped into his practice clothes. Oikawa watched his face closely. It was redder than usual.

“Hey, Iwa-chan?”

Iwaizumi looked up from his knee pads, halting temporarily as he threaded them through his leg. “Mm?”

Oikawa opened his mouth, then glanced to the door where (Y/n) was standing outside of. Not yet. He didn’t have enough evidence yet.

“Never mind.” Oikawa rubbed the back of his head cutely.

——

Iwaizumi slumped down on the steps of the gym, heaving like he ran 13 miles. Well, he did. He watched as everyone came trickling back, Oikawa yelling praise as they all collapsed in front of the gym. Training runs across the block were tough. Especially after an exhausting practice match against each other.

“Good job, everyone!” Oikawa clasped his hands together. “Get some water, go rest, do whatever! We’re gonna do some serving and receiving practices, then we can take a break!”

The tuckered-out team choursed out a “Yessir!” before scattering about and doing their own things. Iwaizumi let his head loll back onto the concrete steps he was sitting on, closing his eyes and catching his unsteady breath.

“Iwaizumi-kun!”

Iwaizumi jolted up harshly, a blush adorning his features as his eyes snapped open. (Y/n) looked down at him with a small white towel in his hand and a water bottle in the other.

“I figured you needed some water or something so-I got you some stuff-!” (Y/n) promptly set the things down on Iwaizumi’s lap, though he’s not sure he noticed with the way he was staring at him so...strangely. Huh, that’s been happening for a while now.

Iwaizumi’s dazed look suddenly dissipated, his consciousness coming back to his eyes as he fumbled for the items slipping from his lap.

“Oh! Thank you...dude…! You’re…you’re...cool...f-for that…!”

Iwaizumi shot finger guns at his (Y/n). His crush. Fucking finger guns. He wouldn’t mind if he took his finger guns and shoved it so far up his a-

“It’s no problem!” (Y/n) shot finger guns back, before flexing an arm and patting his bicep. “It’s what a manager is for! Makin’ sure you boys are alright.”

“I’m gonna go fill up some more water bottles...l stopped and filled one up for you first because you looked thirsty…”

(Y/n) ran off. “See you!” He called from a distance, before disappearing from sight. Iwaizumi waved back with a blank expression on his face.

His legs felt like jelly. Not only because he ran 13 miles non-stop, but because of how whipped he became for manager-kun (Y/n) in the span of only a week or two.

Oikawa hummed to himself knowingly, watching Iwaizumi slump back onto the concrete steps with a hand in his heart.

——

“Iwa-chan, Iwa-chan, Iwa-chan!”

“No! No! No!”

“But why?!” Oikawa exasperatedly yelled, dramatically blocking the door leading outside the club room. It was just him, Iwa-chan, Mattsun, and Makki. Makki and Mattsun sat on the floor of the club room like they were expecting Iwaizumi to come in, and from the way they didn’t try to stop Oikawa from blocking the door, they knew the same things he did.

“Let me out shithead!” Iwaizumi clawed at Oikawa’s arms. Oikawa, as twinkish and childish as he seems, was actually stronger than he looked.

Eventually, Iwaizumi stepped back to take a breather. Matsukawa and Hanamaki took that as their chance to secure him, as Hanamaki grabbed Iwaizumi by the torso and wrapped his whole body around him.

He held him as secure as he could while he thrashed around, waiting till Matsukawa hurriedly set up a foldable chair and brought out some rope. Hanamaki dragged Iwaizumi to the chair, ignoring his pleads of “Let me go!” or “Y’all will pay for this-I swear!” As he forcefully sat him down.

He held his hands to the back of the chair as Matsukawa tied him up as quick as he could.

“Oi! What the fuck!” Iwaizumi kicked at Matsukawa as he circled him with the rope.

“It’s for your own good, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa piped up from his spot blocking the door. He didn’t want to move from the door until Iwaizumi was fully immobilized, just in case he tried to run for it.

“Like hell it is-ack!” Matsukawa tightened the rope. “Ease up, will you! God damn!”

“Sorry, sorry.” Matsukawa, in fact, did not ease up. He tied the rope into multiple tight knots, making it virtually impossible to somehow slip out of them. Iwaizumi squirmed around in his restraints as the chair was rotated facing away from the door, and towards Hanamaki and Matsukawa.

Oikawa sighed triumphantly, and backed away from the door. He clasped his hands together.

“So nice of you to finally join our discussion, Iwa-chan.”

“Literally suck my dick then go practice receives on a nearby building and fall to your death.”

Oikawa feigned offense to Iwaizumi’s words. Hanamaki chuckled, while Matsukawa shut Iwaizumi up by tugging at the rope’s end he was holding in his hands.

“Isn’t this illegal? Like-somewhere in the world?”

“It isn’t right now~” Oikawa sung, before becoming laughably serious. “Now! We need some answers!”

“More like you couldn’t contain your curiosity or ask Iwaizumi like a normal person.”

“Makki! You’re supposed to be on my side!” Oikawa blurbed, before coughing and regaining his cool integrator vibe. “Anyways!” Oikawa snapped harshly at Iwaizumi.

“You! Have a! Crush! On Manager-chan!”

Iwaizumi choked on his own spit. He turned away dumbly, with a coy look on his face.

“Dunno what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t play dumb! We all see the looks you give him! ‘Fess up, Iwa-chan! You’re absolutely totally whipped for (Y/n)-chan!”

Iwaizumi stiffened. “Since when were you two on a first name basis-!”

“See?! You got mad when I called (L/n)-kun by his first name!”

“That doesn’t mean anything!” Iwaizumi barked. He was starting to sweat now. Were these restraints always so stuffy? “I was just wondering why you called him that!”

Oikawa stuck his tongue out. “Just say you like him we’ll let you go~!”

“Never! No way in hell!”

Oikawa gasped. He pointed dramatically at Iwaizumi. “So you do admit it! You’re totally in love with Manager-kun but you don’t wanna say it!”

“Wh-?!” Iwaizumi sputtered. He kicked around in his restraints, making Matsukawa tug at the rope again. He was thrashing around so much he didn’t hear the door open. “When did I-“

“When did I ever say I had a big ass fuckin’ crush on (L/n) that it made me question my whole sexuality?! But that I couldn’t care less since he’s so...so nice and cute and-fuck!”

Matsukawa and Hanamaki paled. They seemed to be looking at something behind Iwaizumi. Oikawa was still listening intently to Iwaizumi’s confession, not noticing whatever it was those two were staring at.

“Fuck! Fuck! I wanna grab his stupid face and kiss him all over! Fuck! Why is (Y/n) so cute! I wanna call him by his first name too! I wanna hug him and do things boyfriends do too! Fuck! I’m so-“

Oikawa’s eye eventually trailed up from Iwaizumi. He locked eyes with whatever was there, then immediately copied the same panicked ‘we’re dead’ look Hanamaki and Matsukawa had. He looked back at Iwaizumi with a sweaty, pale face.

“H-hey, Iwa-chan, that’s enough-you proved your point-“

“-I’M SO FUCKING GAY FOR (Y/N) IT HURTS!”

The three boys flinched, looking behind Iwaizumi with the same look you’d give when you got caught doing something bad. Iwaizumi was breathing heavily, slouched on his chair after his whole explosion of a confession. He looked at the three third years, who weren’t even looking back at him.

“...what? This is what you guys wanted right? To admit that I like (L/n-“

“I-Iwaizumi, you might wanna shut up…” Hanamaki said, his voice trembly. Matsukawa and Oikawa nodded.

“No! Why are y’all acting so weird! You guys were all up my ass about it, and now you’re telling me to shut up?!”

Matsukawa silently spun his chair around slowly, towards the door so he could see what they were all staring at.

“Honestly, if y’all weren’t expecting me to actually…confess…t-to…yooouuu…”

Iwaizumi’s voice progressively died down as he locked eyes with (Y/n), standing by the door with the reddest shocked face he’d ever seen. It was Iwaizumi’s turn to go pale.

“Uh...I-I heard...screaming...f-from the club room and...and I wanted to see if you guys were ok...um.” (Y/n) awkwardly swung his hands around, before letting them rest behind his back. “So…”

“Do you...really wanna ‘kiss me all over’ and do boyfriend-y stuff together…? With me…?”

Iwaizumi said nothing. He started squirming madly in his binds, trying to look anywhere else but (Y/n).

“Let me out let me out let me out let me out-!“

Iwaizumi only wriggled and kicked harder when (Y/n) started approaching him.

“LETMEOUTLETMEOUTLETME-uu-?”

(Y/n) balled up his fists, resting them rigidly on Iwaizumi’s lap as he clumsily pressed a kiss to his lips. His eyes were clamped shut, unlike Iwaizumi’s, who were wide open. He felt (Y/n) push closer, to which he let his body give in and relax, closing his eyes and tilting his head to deepen the kiss.

Matsukawa wolf-whistled, while Hanamaki yelled things like ‘Get it, Iwaizumi!’. Oikawa smiled triumphantly once more, clapping quietly. “Bravo! Yay Iwa-chan!”

Iwaizumi’s eyes were half-lidded as began to pull away. He let out a shaky sigh, watching Iwaizumi take breathless breaths in. Oikawa was still clapping in the background.

“Yay! Yaaaay Iwa-chan! Iwa-chan is happy and I fulfilled my promise! (L/n) will be Manager-kun for forever!”

Iwaizumi snapped out of his dazed trance to glare at Oikawa in confusion. “Huh?”

“Ara?” Oikawa tilted his head. (Y/n) caught on, and started violently shaking his head ‘no’, as well as flailing his arms around trying to shut him up.

“You don’t know why (L/n)-kun decided to join the club?”

Iwaizumi shook his head. (Y/n) whimpered slightly and covered his face in his hands.

“I told (L/n)-kun that if he became our manager, I’d find a way to get you to fall in looove with him. But it looks like I didn’t need to do anything~”

Oikawa chuckled. “He really only joined for you, y’know. When I went up to talk to him about being a manager, his eyes lit up and he said, and I quote: ‘I’ll do it if you set me up with your friend Iwaizumi-kun and get him to fall for me-! Kyaaa! Iwaizumi-kun is so tall dark and handsom-ow!”

Oikawa was abruptly cut off when Iwaizumi kicked him in the leg, as it was the only thing he could reach while he was still tied up. Iwaizumi turned to the side with a blushy pout.

“Y-you’re embarrassing him, idiot.”

“Aww look. He’s enjoying this.” Matsukawa snickered. Hanamaki chuckled as quietly as he could, both trying not to get kicked in the leg like Oikawa did. (Y/n) sank to the floor, defeated.

“Why did you tell Iwaizumi-kun...that’s so embarrassing…” (Y/n) groaned from the ground. He was still covering his face, so he didn’t notice when Matsukawa started untying Iwaizumi, or when Iwaizumi squatted down and placed his hand on top of (Y/n’s) head.

(Y/n) made a noise of surprise as Iwaizumi patted his head with a blushy scowl.

“S’ only fair that I know… I was pretty embarrassed too when you heard all those things I said about you... Eye for an eye and shit…”

(Y/n) said nothing as Iwaizumi continued to pat his head. They said nothing for a while, before Matsukawa silently whispered to Oikawa.

“Wait, if you knew that (L/n)-kun liked Iwaizumi, why did you look so scared when he walked in? You knew they liked each other.”

“Ah.” Oikawa rubbed the back of his head, watching as Iwaizumi and (Y/n) shyly exchanged phone numbers.

“I was scared that Iwa-chan was going to murder me.”

——————

Wanna know what makes my day? When people comment on my fics 💖 especially when they reblog and go crazy in the tags or even say something IN the reblog itself 💖💖💖 makes me feel all warm inside ✨

-Mr. Mizunetzu