#they're obviously yearning for it too

[0nlyhere4phil]

this better be dan and phil soon istg

[constellationcrowned]

((Honestly I'm still hoping to see the Tigla-Dera scenes with Kariom in them rather than Roui being his memory stand in.))

[p4nishers]

bisexual bobby. i'm right.

[libraryofgage]

I hope you don't mind but I wrote a little something lol

Also please ignore typos hfjkds

---

Eddie is driving, of course. He'd drive everyone crazy with his fidgeting if he didn't. He's still fidgeting a little, his fingers tapping the wheel along to the music in his head instead of what's playing on the radio. His left leg is bouncing, barely brushing the bottom of the wheel. His teeth are digging into his bottom lip, the copper-taste of blood creeping into his mouth.

He should have noticed sooner. He should have realized what was happening long before....well...

Before Dustin's frantic phone call and Robin's shaking video call and the group chat that had been collecting dust for the past three years (last used to plan a virtual birthday party for Steve that eventually fell through because of life, which leaves a bad taste in Eddie's mouth even now).

And now he can't stop thinking about it, about his text chat with Steve being untouched for three months. He wasn't even the one who sent the last message. That had been Steve, congratulating him on another tour and asking how the newest album was coming along. Eddie had meant to answer, but he got distracted and it slipped his mind and and and

And nothing. How many times did he see a funny animal and think of texting Steve about it? How many times did he almost send Steve a meme? How many times did he find himself working on that damn album, staring down the lyrics of the title track of an album dedicated to Steve in his heart (like he didn't always dedicate them to Steve and Wayne in his heart anyway), thinking about Steve and his hazel eyes and sunny smile and those two freckles on his cheek?

And now? Now Steve has been radio silent for a month, not even talking to Robin or Dustin for four weeks.

And that's a problem.

"He could be dead," Erica says from the last row of the van, her voice clipped and cold as Eddie's hands tighten on the wheel.

"Don't say that," Dustin hisses.

"We're all thinking it, and if we don't talk about it now, we won't know what to do if it's true."

She's right, of course. Erica is always right, especially when it really hurts. Eddie forces himself to take a deep breath as they pass the sign welcoming them to Hawkins. The sun is slipping below the treetops now, casting shadows and orange light across the road as Eddie forces his foot off the gas pedal so they don't get pulled over.

When Eddie left Hawkins, he never looked back. He chased after a future that nearly escaped him with such single-minded focus that he barely remembers the drive out of his hometown. But he does remember that it didn't look like this.

Hawkins always had a few farms and homes on the outskirts, people who wanted to be surrounded by forest or make a living on pumpkins. When Eddie left, those houses had been lived in; bikes were haphazardly left strewn across lawns, fields of crops were carefully tended, people sat on porches with sweating glasses of lemonade and iced tea in their hands, and lights streamed out from the windows.

Now, those houses and fields are in an unbelievable state of disrepair. Some have smashed windows, the fields of crops are dug up and wildly overgrown, and every single house is dark. If he weren't so sure this was his dimension, Eddie would wonder if they'd somehow driven into the Upside Down when they crossed the town line.

"Uh, that's weird, right?" Dustin asks, nose practically plastered to the window as the town passes by.

Every building is dark. The sun hasn't even properly set, but the streets are empty and the town is dead. It's eerie, sends shivers down Eddie's back, makes his hair stand on end. His jaw clenches, his grip on the wheel tightens, and he tries his damnedest to not imagine the worst case scenario.

He doesn't have to hold off for long as he turns down a residential street. Before his brain can force images of demogorgons attacking Steve to the forefront, an actual demogorgon rushes from behind a house ahead of them, petal-mouth flared wide and teeth on display as its roar forces something Eddie had once buried to flare to life.

Amid the screams from the back and Robin suddenly grabbing the wheel and jerking it to the side so avoid the demogorgon, Eddie somehow remembers to slam his foot on the brakes. The tires squeal painfully, the car drifting sharply and perfectly angling them to face the demogorgon head-on.

Eddie's throat is straining, and he doesn't know why until he realizes he's also screaming. His heart is pounding against his ribs, and his brain has started chugging into over drive. How is he going to get the kids out? How is he going to get Robin out? Who's going to tell his bandmates and his agent that he fucking died the one time he visited Hawkins?

And then he notices a figure (a boy, achingly familiar) sprinting out from behind another house, sliding between the car and the demogorgon, bat raised and swinging with ease. It catches the demogorgon in the stomach, tearing through skin and muscle and sending it sliding back a few precious inches. A shot rings out a second later, the demogorgon's head jerking back. A second shot follows, and the demogorgon's head explods, viscera and a few teeth splashing across the windshield.

The boy with the bat, wipes away some of the gore, turns to another house, and waves a hand. Eddie is already rolling down the window, getting it open just in time to hear the other shout, "Thanks, Ms. Dithers! I'll see you on Sunday for book club!"

Eddie follows the direction of the wave to see an older woman in the upstairs window of a house. Her hair is gray, her glasses are huge, she's wearing a nightgown, and she's reloading a shotgun as she smiles. "Don't mention it, Steve, dear. You'd better bring those Savannah bars again, or I won't be letting you in the door!" she calls back, waving kindly at Steve.

With one more wave, Steve turns to the car. He locks eyes with Eddie first, and Eddie gets the joy of seeing them light up, Steve's whole demeanor suddenly shifting into something bright and happy as he hurries over to the open window. "Hey, guys!" he says, "What brought you down? How come you didn't call ahead? I'd've told you about the curfew."

He leans on the door like it's easy, like he isn't a breath of fresh air Eddie didn't even know he needed. He smiles just as easily, and Eddie is breathless. He definitely couldn't speak for the fucking life of him.

"You didn't answer your fucking phone, dingus!" Robin shouts, barely managing to get her seatbelt off before she's launching herself out of the car. She jumps the hood in a moment of unprecedented grace and crashes into Steve's arms.

She spurs everyone into action, like she made them realize Steve is real and alive. The car shakes as everyone else piles out, surrounding Steve and pushing until he's forced to take a step back before he trips. Despite that, Steve looks...overjoyed.

Eddie tries to be a little calmer as he exits the car, desperately hoping his hands aren't shaking like he thinks they are. He can feel himself on a precipice of something. He's teetering over the edge of a cliff he can't name; or, well, a cliff he doesn't want to name.

And then Steve meets his eyes again, and Eddie is lost in hazel. He's doomed by freckles and sun-kissed skin and a smile that's just for him. He's trapped by warm hands pulling him into a hug, the subtle smell of hairspray, the inescapable stream of Steve, Steve, Steve coursing through his brain.

How the fuck is Eddie supposed to walk away again after this?

okay but a like post-series fic i want that's like: steve harrington being the only man left in hawkins fighting monsters

and not like a 'everyone died, last man standing' way but just. they beat it back, the story ends, nice little tie-up and neatly concluded, eleven loses her powers because their world is completely cut from the other. and life goes on. eddie (yes, eddie lives au don't fight me) goes off with his band, robin-nancy-jargyle off to separate cities for college. the kids go to high school, graduate high school, and scatter across the country. joyce and hop buy a beach house far-far-far away from goddamn hawkins indiana.

steve though. steve stays. he does it too without comment, takes all their calls telling him all these amazing things. the years pass. the calls are fewer and far between. he's mostly in contact with only dustin and robin. except robin's out of country doing some crazy temp job in some remote country, she never catches him at home right now so just leaves him messages. and it takes a couple of weeks for dustin to realize he hasn't gotten steve on the phone.

frantically he calls around "have you heard from steve???" except the most people talk to steve anymore is like phone calls during holidays and holy shit what could have happened??

and what if it's back?

cue everyone who can in that moment, rushing back. eddie hopping on a flight from fucking london direct to indianapolis somehow, heart in his throat. he manages to meet hopper in the airport and they pick up max and dustin at the bus station.

they get to hawkins that is even more different that what they left. a smaller town, a town that shuts down completely when the sun sets. it's creepy and deserted.

except for the fucking upside down monsters of course.

and they're in their stupid little rental in front of this demogorgon and they're screaming but then the thing just goes splat on the concrete and steve fucking harrington is blinking owlishly at them.

"Oh, hey guys!" he calls jogging up to the driver's side window. "Wow, what brought you back down this way? You should have told me, I would have told you about the curfew!"

turns out steve just forgot to pay his phone bill that month, didn't even realize he was missing calls and he's been fighting monsters the entire time because actually they WEREN'T cut off from the upside down at all and he's just been casually fighting monsters for the remaining hawkins residence—the whole town knows now and steve's the guy you call when you have a monster problem

sidebar: WAYNE still lives in hawkins, and he and steve are best friends, eddie munson you are gonna LOSE YOUR MIND

[malkaviian]

i forgot my antidepressants and it shows

[rocker-socks]

People talking about how Telemachus is written too young and "his song is more fitted to a 13 year old than a 20 year old" is both really funny and also kinda depressing.

There’s actual reasons - in Ancient Greece 20 year old men, while certainly not considered children, also weren't thought of as adults but instead youths. Admiteddly this a more athens leaning take, but even in Sparta men weren't allowed to hold political positions until they turned 30.

In a more modern take, as a 20 year old this is exactly how my peers act and feel. The vast majority of people in their early twenties have no idea what the hell they're doing.

Obviously not so much a tumblr problem - aged demographic and all - but also both really funny and a little sad to see on tiktok. Yes 14 year old, even at 20 you will be yearning to be Great with no idea how to do so.

[spxllcxstxr]

Southern Charm (II) • C.S

(Gif not mine)

Request: Omggg please write a part 2 for the cregan stark fan fic! I need to see the kiss! -- anon + others

Summary: The tension between you and Lord Stark grows thicker and finally snaps

Warnings: fem!reader (terms like Princess and My Lady are used), you’re the daughter of Rhaenyra but I don’t specify the father so it can be more inclusive (older than jace), reader has hair (mentioned in like 1 paragraph, can be ignored), YEARNING, possibly a teensy bit suggestive?

Word Count: 1.3k

A.N: oh the yearning in this is *chef's kiss*, Writing this got to me a little bit, it's like so cute. Hope you enjoy!!!

Part II of Northern Attitude | Read the first part here!

•

The Valaryian steel necklace is cool between your fingertips as you fiddle with the clasp against the back of your neck. With the Northern weather harsh and cold against your Southern skin the necklace would be buried deep beneath your furs, yet you could not simply leave your neck bare in front of your hosts.

The small fire crackles in the hearth on the other side of the room as you continue to fumble with the necklace. You bite your lower lip, frustration starting to bubble up beneath your skin. In the Red Keep you had countless handmaidens to do all the trivial parts of getting ready; you weren't completely helpless, your mother made sure of that, but something as simple as a necklace clasp obviously wasn't meant to be solved by one person.

The rubies glimmer crimson in the light, taunting you. At this rate, you were going to be late to the council meeting necessary to secure the loyalty of the North.

"My Lady?"

A knock distracts you from your necklace, causing you to bunch it up in your fist.

"You may enter." You huff, trying not to present yourself as crossed to the Northmen hosting you.

You watch as the door slowly creaks open, expecting a guard or handmaiden to appear, but to your astonishment, the ruggedly handsome face of Lord Cregan Stark enters your vision.

"I presume you would like an escort to the council meeting?" Traces of pink linger on his usually pale cheeks.

You soften at his thoughtfulness.

“I would love that, Lord Stark. However, I require some assistance with the damned necklace.” You hold up the necklace. "If you do not mind, that is..."

His gaze only briefly flicks to the jewelry before settling back onto your form. He hums, a slight smile appearing across his face.

"I can see what I can do, Princess..."

You nod, grateful for his help.

You watch as Cregan pulls off his dark leather gloves. It's almost intentional, the way he slowly and methodically pulls at each finger before tugging the garments off completely. The simple everyday action has your body heating up and your mind drifting off. You try to shake away these thoughts--they're much too sordid and inappropriate for a Princess--but the attractiveness of your Northern host makes it almost impossible to compose yourself the way you should.

With a twirl of his now bare pointer finger, Cregan gestures for you to turn around so he can access the clasp of the steel chain. Not being able to see him coming has you practically quivering in your spot.

Your breath hitches once you finally feel his hands running through your hair; pushing it over one shoulder. Biting your lip you hope to avoid any other gasps from spilling through your lips. After carefully moving your hair, his fingers drop lower to assess the clasp resting on your neck

His calloused fingers are delicate against your skin; light, warm, and comforting. Unexpected from the Lord of Winterfell, yet simultaneously expected from Cregan Stark.

Tension rises as he silently fiddles with your necklace. You almost send out a silent prayer that this takes longer than need be.

Heat rises up your neck and settles in your cheeks as he slowly joins the two clasps of your necklace together. Your fingertips play with the lace of your dress, Cregan making you feel nervous.

He leans in closer to your ear, lips almost touching the top curve. "There you go, Princess." He whispers lowly. The warmth of his breath hits the tips of your ear, the deepness of his voice sending a shiver down your spine.

Cregan's hands flatten against your shoulders, heat completely flooding your body, taking over your senses.

"Thank you, my Lord..." You whisper. You move your right hand to drift up to his own, the skin of your fingertips almost grazing his knuckles.

The intimacy of it all frightens you; if anyone were to walk in, your position would seem compromising and could potentially ruin everything. Not only did you not want to lose the affection of Cregan, but you also didn't want to lose the respect of the Northmen and your mother.

Quickly you move your hand to instead smooth over the jewels of the Valaryian steel, swallowing roughly.

"Let me escort you to the Council room, Princess." His hands release your shoulders, the skin where his hands once were burning.

He swiftly puts his gloves back on in order to offer you his arm.

"That would be delightful." Turning, you offer the lord a small smile before taking his arm.

His hold on you as the pair of you walk through the corridors is light and comforting. Cregan was warm beside you, something that you basked in. The walk to the council meeting is quiet; the thought of his hands on you seared into your mind and onto your skin.

The audience with Winterfell's council goes swiftly and ends in your favor.

You attempt to hold back your excitement and satisfaction with the agreement in front of the Northmen, but when Cregan grabs ahold of you arm a wide grin erupts on your face.

"My first diplomatic endeavor and it was a success, Lord Stark! My mother will be oh so pleased with this outcome!"

"You did well today, Princess." Cregan agrees, diverting from the corridor he walked you down beforehand.

He guides you onto a balcony overlooking the Wolfswood. The evergreens are topped with a fresh dusting of snow. The cold bites at your ears and you can feel it deep in your core. Cregan stands next to you, unbothered.

You stare out into the woods, faintly spotting animals trekking through. Feeling eyes on you, you turn to see your host staring at you. His eyes seem to glow brighter in the winter weather. You heart beats rapidly in your chest.

"Do not leave Winterfell today, Princess..." His baritone voice is hardly above a whisper, cheeks pink.

You furrow your brows. "This agreement is of upmost importance, I must send word--"

"Leave on the morrow; stay in Winterfell tonight." You watch him swallow before turning to completely face you. "Stay with me tonight, Princess. Do not leave just yet."

"Lord Stark--"

"Cregan."

"Cregan..." Your entire body fills with warmth as his name falls from your lips. "I...I do not know what to say..."

Slowly, Creagn shifts next to you, first placing a large palm lightly on your cheek while he places the other on the small of your back.

"Say you will stay one more night." He looks at you as if you were the most beautiful girl in the world, with a fondness that could go unrivalled.

Your tongue darts out to wet your lower lip, hands moving to grasp onto the leather straps across his broad chest.

"Just one more night. Then I really must be off..." You whisper, first looking into his grey eyes before focusing on the curvature of his lips.

The hand that was once cupping your cheek lightly dances across your face as it moves to instead hold the bottom of your chin. Your breath becomes uneven.

"Perfect..." Creagn's lips suddenly capture your own in a soft kiss. His lips are slightly chapped but addicting nonetheless.

Humming in satisfaction as the tension suddenly snaps, you press your lips into his eagerly, your hands squeezing the leather straps even tighter.

Eventually he leans back to breathe, but he stays close to you, forehead resting against your own.

"Come, Princess, let us make the most of your time here." He smiles, pulling you closer to him as you practically melt in his grasp.

•

[uglypastels]

Logan x reader where the reader is scott's younger sister and they're in a secret relationship because she's younger/obviously doesn't want her brother to know. Maybe Scott tries to set her up with someone else or she gets hurt on a mission or something because she got too cocky and everything comes to the surfaces. Sorry I know that's now very descriptive🙈

no don't be sorry this was perfect, if not giving me too much to word with lol. this is so great I wasn't really sure how to incorporate all the elements, but I hope what I managed to do was still good. I certainly had a lot of fun writing it lol. also, apologies if there are some dumb mistakes/errors. i am so sleep deprived but just really wanted to post this before going to bed.

warning: Smut 18+ only. MDNI. no condom [wrap it before you tap it pls]. p in v. fingering. swearing. degradation ["slut" is used]. accidentally almost public stuff. quickie. sub/dom dynamic. un/intentional cockblocking.

~ X-Men Requests Open ~ Masterlist ~

‘Oh my god,’ you moaned out as Logan pressed you against the wall of the small janitor’s closet. It was too cliché to even think about it. And who would have ever expected the Academy to have a janitor’s closet? If you thought about it, it was almost as if the universe wanted you to take this opportunity and hook up with him in the little cubby.

The second you saw him that morning in his loose-fitted long-sleeve and those boot-cut jeans, the only thing you could think about for the rest of the day was how much you needed him. You had managed to survive past noon, and then you had to go and stumble into the garage and catch him working on his motorbike.

His long-sleeve was discarded to reveal the white, now slightly dirty, tank top. His arms were toned and tanned. You watched him just long enough for him to notice your presence, then to grab the towel hanging from his back pocket and wipe his hands clean. 

‘C’mere, Princess,’ he called you over with two fingers, and you almost felt like you had gained the ability to float so quickly had you made your way over to him. Next thing you know, he had picked you up, his hands firmly on your ass, yours in his hair, and your lips colliding in a passionate crash of a kiss. 

‘Fuck, I missed this,’ you moaned out in a desperate moment to catch a breath with your chest already heaving. ‘Missed you.’ You kissed the corner of his mouth, getting the most satisfaction at how a smile formed in the spot where your lips touched him. Neither of you could help yourselves. The urges you felt were nearly animalistic, but when you were around him, you also felt like you were up in the clouds, feeling light as a feather and giddy like an idiot. The need for him was coursing through your veins. 

‘Mmm, I know, sugar,’ his voice came deep from his throat in a growl full of yearning. ‘Gonna let me have my way with you, yeah?’

All you could respond with was a desperate moan. So caught up in the delicious feeling of his body against yours, that you nearly missed the beeping announcement of the garage doors opening. You would have gone on unaware of anything going on around you if it wasn’t for Logan pulling away and setting you back on the ground. It was like a switch flipped on inside your brain, and just in time, as the doors opened and a car drove up as you took your precautionary steps away from Logan, who had gone back to working on his bike. 

The car halted in its designated parking spot, and you weren’t surprised to find your older brother, Scott, stepping out of it. Only he would have such perfectly unfortunate timing.

‘Hi Scott,’ you tried to sound chipper about bumping into him, and absolutely not like he had just interrupted a much-needed make-out session with your boyfriend that he knew nothing about. How you had managed to keep it a secret for all these months, you had no idea. 

‘Hey,’ he smiled politely you way, as he had already made his way to the exit. As always, you couldn’t see his eyes through the red glasses he wore, and yet you could tell exactly where he was looking at with that judgemental look of his. But Logan didn’t pay him any attention, which might have even been the bigger insult than if he had quipped something your brother’s way. You knew he wanted to, though, but you also knew that he didn’t want to insult your brother right in front of you. 

You waited for Scott to walk out of the room, but to your surprise, your brother turned around to you. ‘Are you coming?’

‘She was about to.’ You heard Logan mumble under his breath as he… You weren’t sure what exactly he was doing with that bike with the screwdriver. You never understood much of mechanics.

‘Uhm, yeah,’ you responded, ‘I uhh– I just wanted to ask Logan something. I’ll just be a moment.’

‘No, I’ll see you later, bub,’ Logan caught you off guard. ‘This might still take a while and I don’t want to keep you waiting.’

‘Oh, ok.’ You pushed the disappointment off your face before you started walking to the exit where Scott stood, still none the wiser. As soon as you walked into the corridor, you made up an excuse to go the other way and walked as fast as you could without making it necessarily suspicious if he had glanced your way.

The hours that followed went by painfully slow. You kept your eye out for Logan, but he was nowhere to be seen all afternoon. Dinner had come and gone, and you were returning to your room, already having made your peace with the fact that today was simply one of those days where fate kept you apart.

And exactly at that moment, Logan turned the corner.

‘Where the hell were you all day?’ you questioned, annoyed, but no matter how angry you pretended to be, the grin on your face at the sight of your boyfriend was quite clear in meaning.

‘I did have stuff to finish on my bike.’ He took a few large strides your way, ‘and then some kids needed help with something.’

‘Aww, that’s sweet.’ You leaned into him, your chin on his chest, as you looked up into his eyes.

‘Don’t act too surprised, Princess.’ His arms immediately wove themselves around your waist, and you slowly leaned for a kiss. It was risky to do this in an open hallway where anyone could walk in, but in the moment, you couldn’t care less. You just wanted to feel him, all over you. The desperation for it grew with each second and was ready to explode. 

That was all in theory, of course, since as soon as you heard any threat, the risk-taking daredevil part of you immediately hid, and you were looking for an escape route. It was two pairs of footsteps this time that echoed through the hallways. You cursed under your breath. 

Just your luck to be standing next to a door. Trying its limits again, you pulled down at the door handle and sighed with relief as it opened. You quickly slipped inside, pulling Logan in behind you by the hand. He closed the door back behind him just in time as the footsteps, which you now recognised to be Scott and Jean’s, along with their voices, moved across the spot where you had just been standing.

‘Are they—’ but your question never was finished, as your lips were caught in a haste kiss. It was pitch black in the tiny room, but you heard Logan pull the lightbulb cord. The next thing you know, the faint yellow light illuminated what you now recognised to be the janitor’s cubby. A closet large enough to fit a large shelfcase filled with cleaning products, buckets, and towels. But Logan needed no time to orientate himself. He was already all over you. One hand pinning your leg up against his upper thigh, leading you against the wall. 

‘Oh my god,’ you moaned out as you felt the pressure and structure of the room against your shoulders, Logan’s chest against yours. His hand stroke up and down your leg, squeezing at the soft flesh of your ass.

‘Wanna be my good little girl?’ Logan growled into your ear.

‘Yes,’ you whined, desperate for more than just his kiss. ‘Fuck, yes.’

‘Want me to fuck your tight little pussy, sugar? Just like you’ve been begging me for? What you say, you little slut?’ At the sound of his words, all of yours simply escaped you and so you could only respond in a series of moans and whines. All sounds that brought Logan immense joy and arousal. ‘Yeah, thought so.’ It had been a very conscious choice you had made that morning by wearing a skirt. Not that you had expected to end the day in this closet, but you were sure it would end somewhere in Logan’s grip. And so you were fully prepared. 

His fingers smoothed over your panties, pressing over your slit, feeling the material get soaked through just that one simple touch. But it wasn’t enough. For either you or him. He kept toying with you for a few more minutes, never crossing the material barrier of your underwear, long strokes up and down, pushing in closer, almost as if nothing was there to separate you. 

‘Please,’ you cried out, ‘baby, please. I need–’

‘What do you need, sweetheart? C’mon, use your words?’ God, you hated when he got so cocky. You could never take much of his teasing. Then again, you weren’t in here to exactly last long. 

‘Need your fingers. Please.’ 

‘Good girl,’ he kissed your forehead, snapped the band of your underwear to make you whine so prettily as he loved, and pulled the panties down your legs. 

Another filthy moan left you as his fingers slowly filled you up. The expletives rolled off your tongue in the rhythm of his thrusts. He kept a steady pace, and one that left you shaking against him. So much so that soon enough, he had to hold you up by the arm, pinning you down even harder. One leg propped up high for even easier access to his favourite part of you. 

‘Such a good slut, taking anything I give you, anywhere I want you.’ His voice could practically get you over the edge alone, and he knew that well enough on his own, and so he kept talking. ‘Can’t wait to get my hard cock in you, Princess. Gonna fill you up so good. Fuck. Just you wait—’

‘No, please,’ you cried out.

‘What’s that? My girl can’t wait a few more minutes for her cock?’ He kissed your neck so ferociously it was more like his teeth grazing over the sensitive skin, and the sensation left shivers down your whole body. He raised his mouth up to directly speak against your ear.

‘So fucking desperate. Wish you could see yourself now. Just know you’d do anything for me, wouldn’t you?’ He punctuated the question with one final deep thrust of his large fingers. ‘You gonna cum? No, no, no. Not yet. You’re gonna let me have my fun first, isn’t that right?’

‘Yes.’ was all you managed to say. Then his lips clashed with yours in another of your sloppy kisses. Your hands found themselves in his hair for the second time that day, and you already felt yourself falling into bliss, and that was all without even the feeling of his length finally pushing deep in you. If only you could scream the pleasure you felt. But for now, in the closet, you would make due by digging your nails into his shoulder. That, in turn, only got Logan more riled up as his thrust grew in pace. He hit all your right spots evenly, hard and deep. If he kept going like that, and you were sure he would, you didn’t know just how much longer you would last.

‘Fuck, I’m gonna–’ your voice was breathy and out of focus, as all that was on your mind was him inside you. 

‘Yeah, c’mon, sweetheart, come for me. Come all over my cock.’ he growled the words with the same intensity and desperation for release you felt.

You were so close. Just ready to burst. Moment away when—

When suddenly, a knock on the other side of the door halted the both of you. In a sudden moment, everything washed away with the power of a tsunami. Leaving nothing behind but emptiness.

Someone cleared their throat. Someone who you could already recognise from that simple gesture. 

‘Alright, it’s past curfew, lovebirds, knock it out.’ You could hear in your brother’s voice just how uncomfortable he was by catching two, what he assumed to be students, clearly hooking up. Your guess was that the room had not been as soundproof as you imagined a cubby to be. Or you were that much louder. 

You looked up at Logan, who had already started zipping up his jeans. There was another firm knock on the door.

Well, if Scott had already felt embarrassed, you were about to make it ten times worse.

the end.

thank you for reading 💗

if you enjoyed the fic, please consider reblogging and leaving a comment. or send a message via my inbox. requests are also more than welcome. 💗

[kg-day]

What annoys me the most about the "kataang has no chemistry" argument is that they do have chemistry, but people choose to ignore it because it's not the chemistry they're used to seeing/expecting. There isn't going to be an underlying tension or yearning that speaks to a more physical attraction to one another, these are kids for Christ's sake. Their chemistry is soft and sweet and romantic and - most importantly - age-appropriate. Not only that, but I think what a lot of people who hate on them like to forget is that their romantic relationship has always been secondary to their friendship. Katara and Aang kissing at the end of the show signifies the start of their romantic journey, not the end of it. Yes, they obviously have feelings for one another throughout the show (and I am saying obviously because it was obvious that Katara had feelings for Aang considering he was literally the only person who received that kind of treatment from Katara, like literally nobody else was treated by Katara the way that Aang was, nobody) but their romance doesn't truly start until they kiss on the balcony. Everything before that is the basis for which their relationship bloomed, but more than anything - more than the kisses on the cheek, the hugs, the blushing - their deep trust, respect, and admiration for one another is what brought them to that balcony. If you spend too much time focusing on whether or not Katara and Aang seemed like they were attracted to one another (which there is also ample evidence of, people just once again ignore it and write it off as "childish crushes" because it's not over the top dramatic mature romance) you ignore the fact that their chemistry lies in how they work seamlessly as a team, how they support one another, and how they share a deep, unspoken connection as two genocide survivors - and children - stuck in a war. Katara and Aang have chemistry, but they're also best friends, and that has always been the most important part of their relationship.

[tiktaalic]

catching fire dash simulator

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my streams have been cutting all season omfg what is going on

caps4finnick Follow

cinnagirl3000 Follow

anybody heard from cinna lately?

plutarcheology Follow

Plutarch Heavensbee circa 2282

revolutionarykatniss

As if it’s not ENOUGH that yall wanna fuck the most morally bankrupt man alive who is more than complicit because he gets paid to live in luxury to ORCHESTRATE the deaths of innocents so that they’re a spectacle and don’t have the option to die even semi peacefully. as if that’s not enough. You wanna fuck him when he’s ugly?

caesarflickerwoman Follow

anyone else still thinking about how caesar and peeta were kinda ..

czrflckmn

Aren’t you the one who had the week long meltdown about peeta being overfamiliar with him

caesarflickerwoman

Well you see I’m gay and a man now

theeclove Follow

already tired of this fucking season of everlark -_- idgaf about the fucking fog

siblingvictors

DISTRICT ONE GONNA SEND THEM A CANCELLATION NOTICE!! #CASHMEREGLOSS4EVER

czrflkmn Follow

everyone looooooves to act like NOTABLE cishet peeta is so gay w caesar as if his gay cohost isn't right there.... slaying in a wig..... sending yearning glances caesar's way right before the camera cuts......

johannadykeson Follow

tbh she’s got the WORST taste in allies idek why i continue to stan. girl MAGS?

#my girl going to get slorn :/

katnissgirlsmakedo

She is choosing with her HEART she chose to save peeta in the games REMEMBERRRRRRRR she’s literally a lovergirl to the core

#lovecore #heartcore #truelove

lucygraydotcom Follow

Caesar flickerman kidn if a laughing gnome. Reblog

finnickforever Follow

I’ve supported finnick through a lot and defended them and I’ve always been proud they're from my district but honestly they went way too far by doing the salute during the interview. I can only hope that they just got caught up in the moment with everyone else doing it and obviously it’s a stressful situation but I don’t think I can continue endorsing them. I’ll be changing my url this week.

divorceekatniss Follow

hey guys i know times are tough for everyone and the capital has really cracked down but my mutual @divorceepeeta got flogged the other day and could really use some help. v3nmo here. anything helps #signalboost #mockingjay

disabledmags Follow

Tbh the baby is the saddest thing I've ever heard </3

peetaspride

Another citizen falling for capital propaganda. It's so glaringly apparent that this is made up to draw in views. The tributes undergo extensive medical examination prior to the games. They would NEVER let a pregnant woman compete.

disabledmags

As if killing children has ever stopped them before?

#We all saw him fall to protect her stomach before they even started the victory tour #Is it that ridiculous to believe two newlyweds fresh out of a life or death situation would celebrate a little carelessly?

peetaspride

If you think even the marriage is real you're stupider than I thought. Peeta spends every interview begging us to see his truth. The capital is shamelessly silencing him and "the baby" is a distraction.

peetasbabymama Follow

URL CHANGE!! faggotpeeta->peetasbabymama

cupcakeeverlark

this isnt funny. peeta's a real person with real feelings. it will never be funny to call someone a f***** as a joke. how would you feel if my url was f*****peetasbabymama?

peetasbabymama

ok

district420

isnt cupcakeeverlark literally prez snow's 12 yr old granddaughter lol

tendinghiswounds

OOMF IS 12???????????

everlarklovechild

the age is the problem here?

marriedeverlark Follow

Canon url 🎉🎊💅😁🥰♥️

beeteemp3 Follow

New content of my favorite tribute 😁😁😁

3ffietrinket

Girl there’s a 96% chance they die ?

peenick Follow

getting reports from the presidential banquet that Peeta looks gay as fuck

3v3rlark Follow

ik peeniss has been flagging w the rehearsed speeches but did anyone else see the way they looked at each other in the censored district 11 speech

rues-song

you’re STUPID she’s a capital pawn AND i fucked your mom while you were busy looking for illegal streams

senecacraneofficial Follow

rip seneca you were so babygirl </3

plutarchbaby69

so now you think we can’t fuck old men?

#this fandom is so ageist #this is prob what I get for blogging about thg tbh since # it’s literally about kids. Some of you ppl need to grow up

[sanjisboyfie]

suguru's needless jealousy

geto suguru x male reader

being suguru's boyfriend and all of his friends (shoko and satoru, basically - man's does not really have friends like that) not believing how he could find such a wonderful, caring boyfriend like you.

it kind of pisses him off, actually. because he knows how lucky he is to have you, obviously he knows, he's the one dating you. he's the only one who knows just how fast his heart races whenever he sees you. he's the only one who gets that really warm feeling in his chest when you so much as look in his direction. he's the only one who gets to hear you whisper, "i love you," to him and practically send him spiralling with just those three words alone.

but whenever you walk into the classroom, shoko and satoru both think he's gotten memory loss in his sleep because they're both gushing about, "waahhh, suguru, your boyfriend's a total babe, why'd he settle with you? he could have anyone he wanted!" or, "suguru, you better be treating [name] with the utmost respect, he deserves the best for being such a sweetheart!"

you are the one that always kindly brushes their compliments off, taking a comfortable seat next to suguru, who pulls you closer to him by tugging on the leg of your chair towards his. there's a small frown on his face, but it washes away the moment you rest your hand on top of his.

with that simple touch, he'll tiredly tell the two of them to just shut up before focusing all of his attention on you. and that frowns melts into a lovesick smile as he hangs off of every word that leaves your lips.

-

however, satoru one day takes the teasing too far. for suguru's taste, at least. you had run off to grab the three of you drinks from the vending machine. unfortunately, the one near the common area was broken. despite satoru having the ability to fix it, he was being a hardass and refusing to.

this made you have to almost walk around the entire campus just to get the drinks for them.

satoru was going on and on about how considerate you were, both as a friend and boyfriend. suguru didn't mind that much. he loved to praise you for your actions no matter how big or small - especially to those around him.

it was his own subtle, greedy way of saying, "look at my boyfriend and all he does for me because he loves me, yeah, i am the luckiest guy in the world~"

obviously, when he does sing your praises they aren't as obvious as that. they're subtle, inconspicuous.

or, another way of phrasing that would be, not as obvious as gojo satoru makes his admiration for you be.

like suguru said, he doesn't mind when others sing your praises. you deserve the recognition for being so kind. but, in his humble opinion, it almost sounded like satoru was just yearning now.

yearning for his boyfriend. seriously, of all people...

it made a tick mark appear on his forehead as he thought about it.

"and, and! did you see the way he was so eager to just go grab them for us? even though he doesn't have to, [name] is always putting others before him. he's really a great guy, i bet he's an amazing boyfriend too, suguru! god, you're one lucky man!"

suguru's eye twitched, "i know, i am lucky, he treats me really well,"

"well, you better treat him well too, or else who knows! he might ditch your sorry ass," it was obviously a joke, with the way satoru's mocking laugh echoed after he said that, it was very obviously a joke.

but suguru was already at his limits in dealing with satoru's bad jokes.

"oh, so you can sweep him off of his feet after he ditches me, right?"

satoru stilled at the comment, looking at suguru as if he were crazy. but before he could shout about how out of pocket suguru was being, he was cut off, "you've been dick riding my boyfriend for the past ten minutes, satoru, is there something you wanna say to me?"

satoru's blue eyes blinked owlishly, "are you seriously saying what i think you're saying? are you a dumbass?"

"i don't know, you tell me. you're the one that was sounding like a desperate school girl trying to get noticed by her crush, not even ten seconds ago,"

now satoru was just offended! god, he can't even sing your praises without a jealous suguru breathing down his neck.

[name] control your man or else i won't know what i do to him for pissing me off, was the only though in satoru's mind.

"don't be such a dick just cause you're jealous, dude," satoru warns, only making suguru's eyes glare at him even more - as if he were insulted.

"i'm not jealous," suguru weakly defended, making satoru only roll his eyes.

when you returned a couple seconds later, satoru took his juice from you, placed some yen to pay you back for it into your now open hand, and walked off.

"huh? i thought satoru was going to wait with us here for shoko?"

"change of plans, he and shoko are gonna meet up elsewhere. they said we could have the time together for some couple business or something," suguru easily lied, not at all feeling bad for doing so either.

with how often shoko and satoru were complimenting you for how selfless you were, they surely wouldn't mind you spending personal time with your own boyfriend, aka him, aka geto suguru.

"oh, if it's alright with them, let's go!" you cheerfully smiled, unscrewing the cap of your juice and linking your arm through suguru's. "what's the plan for today then, babe?"

suguru almost melted at your touch and pet name for him. he gazed down at you lovingly, shrugging his shoulders with a smile on his face, "anywhere you wanna go, prince, i'll just follow along,"

you pout at his lax attitude, but sigh and choose a random arcade to spend your time in. he nods in approval, allowing you to drag him through the streets of tokyo with a smirk on his face.

you were his and he was yours, he thought to himself. he held your hand in his now, walking through the dimly lit arcade with you two closely connected with each other.

he was the one you were spending time with the most, not shoko or satoru. he was the one that got the teddy bear you won for him, not shoko or satoru. and he was definitely the one you were kissing, not shoko or satoru.

they can sing your praises for being a perfect boyfriend and tease and degrade his status as yours as much as they want, but at the end of the day, their words mean nothing as he's the one who's truly winning.

after all, it's his bed you sleep in at night and he's the one who gets to have you be the first thing he sees in the morning.

suguru felt stupid for even being the slighest bit jealous of satoru's words earlier. he doesn't even know why he was jealous. because satoru was so obviously admiring you? because it sounded like satoru was noticing the little things you did just how suguru did?

how could suguru even feel jealous about little shit like that, when you're the one saying the sweetest words about him being your boyfriend.

(don't praise him too much, though, his heart may stop at your endearing words. seriously, his face feels like it'll explode with how heated his cheeks get and how erratic his heart beat can go.)

[rin-solo]

This came to me earlier, and now I am utterly obsessed: While it was clear to me that Odysseus stabbing Poseidon wasn't any kind of Vengeance, there was one act of Vengeance after all, even if inadvertent—it was Odysseus disproving Poseidon's "Ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves" belief right in front of his very eyes. With him as the subject, even.

Think about it—the fact that Poseidon remained ruthless and insisted on punishing Odysseus was the only reason he got stabbed repeatedly. If Poseidon had been merciful, if he had accepted Odysseus' offer of forgiveness, he would've been fine. His own ruthlessness backfired so hard on him this time that I am sincerely hoping it haunts him forever.

I am actually utterly obsessed with Poseidon thinking back to Odysseus "Maybe you could learn to forgive?" on a daily, no an hourly basis. I cannot and will not lie to you that is unironically my favorite moment in the whole Vengeance saga just because of what it says about both the characters—about Odysseus for offering and Poseidon for declining (and also because Odysseus sings it in Poseidon's own motif which is just absolutely brilliant.) And this makes me love it even more.

Poseidon was going to decline, we all know that. I don't think anyone watching—even Odysseus, probably—expected him to accept. But then I'm picturing him lying there, bleeding into the stone, and, against his will, wondering whether maybe he should have. Maybe if he had, he wouldn't be in pain. Maybe if he had not killed Odysseus' fleet ten years ago, he wouldn't be in pain either. Maybe this one time ruthlessness wasn't mercy upon himself—maybe this time, his one grand belief was wrong. Maybe ... it was always wrong.

Obviously, he would never admit to these thoughts, he would slap himself for having them one second later. But I simply need this self-proclaimed god of ruthlessness to be utterly haunted by that and question whether he made the right choice or no—whether he's even lived by the correct philosophy all his immortal life—and no matter what, be too stubborn to admit he was wrong.

He's trying to pretend like nothing changed, but the thoughts still remain. They pester him. They won't leave him alone. Especially every time someone—anyone—is kind to him for whatever reason, they come crashing back into him and they won't leave.

"What if my own ruthlessness hurt me that time?"

"What if ruthlessness isn't mercy upon ourselves after all?"

"What if I'm wrong?"

"What if I have always been wrong?"

The most dreadful thoughts imaginable to a god as proud and stubborn and old as Poseidon, but they're there now and he can't do anything about them. You all don't understand how much I NEED this god to jolt up in his bed at 3 am after having a dream or nightmare about something related to one of his many ruthless deeds (maybe even sinking Odysseus' fleet) and go "BUT WHAT IF I HAD LEARNED TO FORGIVE?? WHAT IF I STILL COULD??" only to immediately slap himself for it because that's absolutely ridiculous.

He is left to watch this belief shatter before his very eyes as he's clinging to the remains of it desperately, trying to keep it all from crumbling. Not because he genuinely believes he's right anymore, but because he simply cannot imagine ... does not know how to live by any other philosophy.

No matter whether it's objectively correct or not, it's the very thing that defines him. The thing he's known for. He has built his entire image around this, he cannot give it up no matter what ... at least not quickly or without help.

But as much he would seek to deny it, his core belief has now been proven wrong; he has actually lived through an instance where it was wrong, and he can do nothing to erase those memories or conclusions from his mind no matter how much he yearns to go back to simpler times.

And that was the real Vengeance, guys—possibly the biggest, most painful existential crisis of Poseidon's immortal life. I rest my case.

Although before I disappear back into the void I simply must give a shout out to @o3o-lapd-o3o (this came to me during a conversation in one of their comment sections for the glorious Friends In Higher Places AU, which is quite possibly my favorite piece of EPIC fan content that exists ...)

[tgsilcosynxbelu3]

hannibal has a god complex. definitely. he loves having people beg for his help - it feels powerful. he’s so pathetically desperate when it comes to will though. he puts will in situations where only he can help will out; he purposefully isolates will from other people in his life to further monopolize him. hannibal is so bent on making will needs him that when will left, he panicked. he did everything to pull will to him again, sacrificing his freedom in the process. in the last half of the 3rd season, he was so desperate for control. so when he finally had will say “please”, he was overjoyed. he was of use again. he knew he was being use, and that’s how he gets will to be by his side again. will knows that. he asks hannibal for help knowing that hannibal wants will to use him. in a way, that’s his way of reciprocating hannibal’s affection. he allows hannibal to be needed again. and hannibal also knows that will knows that, so he’s even happier that will’s using him for both of their sakes. and obviously will knows that hannibal knows that he knows too, so it's just a full circle using one another for both of them - they're conjoined.

oh to worship and to be worshipped, when god yearns for the lamb to come to him and asks for help, when he yearns to bestow, when he yearns to be used just as long as he’s remembered. and that's how the lamb comes into power, for it isn't a sacrifice but the proof of god's purpose. oh how the table turns. gosh they’re so tragically in love i’m sick to my stomach

[myjisung]

crushing with han !

content. stray kids han, headcanons, gn!reader — fluff.

warning. none

wordcount. 500

a/n. after the love language and kisses series, here comes the crushing series! i will tell you all about how skz acts when they have a crush ( headcanons, they're all my opinion. feel free to disagree, obviously ). tell me who you would like to read about next in this series :o) i missed this account so badly... i hope to be active in the coming weeks! ♥︎

WOULD HE CRUSH FIRST ?

han is the type to start developing feelings the moment he sees that someone expresses romantic interest towards him. yes, he does sometimes admire people from afar and wonders about them but for a real crush to form, he needs the push of someone being interested first. so no, not really. you would most likely be crushing on han first.

HOW HE WOULD ACT.

when han has a crush, it can go two very distinct ways:

either he is crazily obvious about it. han would be blushing the second you walk into the room and giggle uncontrollably at his own clumsiness. he would trip over his words, second guess every answer he gives to your questions and tickle the back of his neck when deep in thought. his friends would be no help at all, staring at him from the other side of the room trying to make him realize that you can see right through him. but sadly for han, he simply cannot help it.

or, he would simply not even look your way. it comes from a place of deep anxiety more than one of trying to look cool. han is too aware of your presence and the way it makes him feel. so much so that he would rather be distant and not look like he cares deeply though it is counter productive. he would ( try to ) keep his cool, laugh nonchalantly at your jokes and look your way when your back is turned. in a few words ; han would care for you in concealed ways.

WOULD HE MAKE THE FIRST MOVE ?

not really. he might if you were dancing around each other for months. han would lose patience then and get over his fear of rejection to try and ask you out.

he would much rather you ask him out or raise the question of what you both were after a few exclusive hangouts. han would not be able to live through the embarrassment of being rejected though he is mature enough to take it. he is rather afraid he would pressure you into saying yes to dating him just because he put you on the spot.

but if it can be any motivation: if you were to ask him out, han would give you one of his biggest heart-shaped smiles. all teeth and adoration.

MISCELLANEOUS.

han is quite a big fan of crushing, if that makes any sense. he feels inspired to create when he grows to know and like someone more as days go by.

he is one to romanticize the entire process of forming a crush / a connection to someone new. which is why he lets the whole 'crushing period' go on for as long as he can. of course he yearns for a relationship, but there is just something so sweet and innocent about dancing around each other. the stolen glances, the shy smiles, fingers brushing against each other's when walking side by side or the jitters he feels everytime he texts you ; han loves it all.

the type to be exclusive when crushing or casual dating. han gives his undivided attention to one person at a time.

taglist. @aeinzzzketchup — let me know if you would like to be added / removed.

© myjisung. please do not copy, translate, repost or claim my work as your own.

[shaunamilfman]

the ghost you dressed up as [4]

pairing: Jackie Taylor x Shauna Shipman x reader summary: "What do you do when you find out your best friends have sort of, kind of, been killing people in your name? Probably not what you're about to do." note: there's def a knife involved 🥰 masterlist

The table was awkwardly quiet, full of the teammates that happened to share the same lunch period as you. The group of you have been sitting around and hoping someone else will take the initiative to finally start talking. There had been a few abandoned attempts and side conversations, but for the most part it felt like your table was isolated from the rest of the cafeteria. 

You certainly aren’t helping: caught between sneaking glances at Shauna and staring down at your tray to avoid Jackie’s irritated stare. Shauna was tearing apart her food into little pieces, obviously more interested in destroying it than actually eating anything. You felt much the same: the idea of eating right now was enough to make you sick. It wasn't even what you had witnessed this weekend that was really getting to you. Rather, it was your own reaction that concerned you. 

The way you hadn't run when you should have, watching wide-eyed as Shauna tore that girl apart. How quick you were to accept it, leaning back into Jackie's reassuring touch like it was nothing. Why you hadn't screamed, why you hadn't asked them to stop. All of it kept running through your head on loop–and that wasn't even taking the way Shauna had looked into consideration. Staring up at you with wild eyes, almost feral. Blood soaked and trembling in excitement, each breath heavy and ragged as she finally caught it. 

Suffice to say that you've had a lot on your mind recently. 

The gathering was something of a show of support after what had gone down this weekend at the party. Another murder so soon after the last brought back the suspicion from before that you had foolishly thought you'd escaped from. You appreciated the attempt, as strange and awkward as it felt. You've never known any of them to be silent for any period of time, so it really goes to show how close to home it was hitting. 

Still, the silence was beginning to grow unbearable. It was unnerving seeing a group of girls, usually so loud and jovial, so quiet and subdued. No jokes, no insults, no gossip spreading like wildfires. Just the oppressive nothingness stretching on for what felt like forever, but had to have been less than thirty minutes. 

You can still feel Jackie's eyes drilling a hole into your head. Knowing that, she at least, would have something to say to you if you were alone wasn't as much of a comfort as you hoped. What would you even say to her after what they did? After what you didn't do? 

Even if you hadn't ended up going home with them, a part of you had so desperately wanted to. That part of you still yearns for their company, for the security you feel laying between them on Jackie's too-small mattress. But how could you? Knowing what they did, what they're presumably still going to do.

We did this for you. 

Normal people would be afraid for their lives knowing what you know and not saying anything about it, but as irrational as it sounds to think even in your mind, you don't feel like you're in any real danger. Not from Shauna, and certainly not from Jackie. You've seen what they're capable of, the kind of dangers that's inherent in their every action. But you don't worry about that danger spilling over to you, even if you should. You feel oddly protected, as unsettling as the thought sounds. 

That might be the most terrifying part. 

You know that it's only a matter of time before you end up back between them, Shauna's guiding hand on your shoulder as Jackie pulls you by the wrist. You'll go willingly, won't you? They won't even have to ask, not with words anyhow. You so desperately need time to sort yourself out, to figure out your feelings on the matter without two pretty girls looking over your shoulder and whispering in your ears, but the way Jackie keeps looking at you clues you in that time is running out. 

Jackie's glare had only gotten more pointed and impatient as the day went on. She did, after all, give you 36 whole hours to come to terms with the fact that they had been committing all the murders that you yourself have been suspected of. Generous, right? In Jackie's mind, at least. You could almost hear her now, complaining about how ungrateful you're being in that petulant whine she always keeps in her back pocket for when Shauna doesn't give her something she wants. It was, of course, devastatingly effective, even in your imagination. 

You really ought to get out more. 

She's never been very good at waiting, an impatient go-getter by nature. Jackie was always the first to want to talk things out; even the smallest little disagreement had to be worked out in the moment, or she'd work herself up catastrophizing about it. You'd seen it too many times to name, watching as she ran scenarios over and over again in her head till she convinced herself you hated her because you wanted to finish an assignment at the library.

Shauna's much the same way. Not in the way of communication, as any conversation with her about emotions could feel like talking to a brick wall unless she was feeling something strongly, but she has a way of blowing things way out of proportion if she’s given time to stew in her feelings. The two of them together were awful, feeding off of each other's energies until it became apocalyptic. 

So you knew, with the same feeling of dread that kept you awake at night staring at the blurred blades of your ceiling fan, that if you didn't approach them soon, they would find you. And when it came down to that, you probably wouldn't enjoy the consequences. Neither of them are good at letting things just play out naturally, but the second they finally caved in, you know they won't leave you any room to think or to hesitate. You had to make your mind up quickly, though. It wouldn't be long till they ambushed you at your locker, or better yet, just block the door to your car. 

It wouldn't be the first time, either. In a moment of pettiness, when you'd insisted on driving yourself to school, Shauna had shown up in your driveway and parked her car behind yours, so you had to let her take you or risk being late. No amount of glaring or complaining changed her mind, just staring back at you from the driver's seat with a smug look on her face, tapping her fingers against the steering wheel as she hummed along to the song playing on the radio. It didn't even seem to bother her that you spent the entire ride to Jackie's house and then school glaring at her in the rear view mirror. If anything, it excited her. That really should have clued you in that–

“So are we going to talk about how she disappeared right around the time that girl got murdered last night?” Mari asks suddenly, her voice cutting through the silence like a gunshot. 

You glance up immediately, pulled out of your thoughts quickly enough to leave you a little dizzy. For a second, you just blink at her, almost in shock. The way she stiffened ever so slightly as the words traveled down the table, eyes darting between your other teammates, told you she probably didn't mean it as accusatory as it sounded–more of a bitchy joke to break the silence. It's the kind of thing Mari was known for, an awkward laugh after saying something just a touch too mean for the situation. Sometimes she meant it, more often than not, but it's obvious it's already snowballed into something out of her control. The glances shared between your teammates that quickly turn into defensive glares at Mari's expense. You would almost feel bad for her if it wasn't at your expense. 

Mari's half-hearted smile falters at the looks, a tension gathering in her shoulders as she realizes how carelessly she's crossed a line. She's tense as she waits for the fallout, stiffly holding her head up high. There's no attempt at an apology; you knew better than to expect one, but she shrugs her shoulders as if to say, Oops. It's too late now anyway, and you wouldn't have appreciated any attempt she made to make one. You can almost respect her for it–at least she's not pretending. 

Still, the damage is done. You sling your bag over your shoulder as you stand up, hoping it looks more like a strategic retreat than the storm-off it really is. You get enough of it from everybody else; the last thing you want is to have to answer those questions during lunch too. 

It's enough for Shauna to hold off on what was likely about to be a scathing retort, her hand already tensed into a fist you're sure was about to meet Mari's nose. Her eyes narrow on you instead, following you as you gather your things until she abruptly stands up to join you. Her chair scrapes loudly against the floor, drawing attention from nearby tables until the sight of her glare was enough to have them looking back at their own lunch. Jackie follows just a step behind as she hurries to catch up–never one to be left out. 

You can barely hear Nat's wry comment of, “Didn't you notice that Jackie and Shauna had also disappeared last night?” Her tone is thick with a mocking lilt of sarcasm as she stares Mari down, the implication obvious for anyone capable of reading between the lines. 

There's a knowing laugh shared between Tai and Van that has you speeding up in your haste to get out of there. Your face burns as you walk out of earshot, but if that's what they want to believe happened–that you were sneaking around to hook up with Jackie and Shauna–it was certainly better than thinking you'd witnessed a murder. It would've been your preferred way to spend Saturday night, anyhow. 

Even with that thought in your mind, you couldn't help but enjoy the familiar feeling of comfort you get at their presence behind you. They aren't following you out of habit, you know, just another attempt at tethering themselves to you. No matter how far you tried to run, they'd be right behind you, waiting. 

You appreciate that they don't attempt to talk to you along the way, the silence more comforting than it had been in the cafeteria. They cling close enough to your shadow that there's no real need for words to be exchanged anyway. Shauna's frustration, Jackie's impatience, all of it echoed in their footsteps. 

“Not today,” you say firmly, turning around to look at them. Shauna almost bumps into you with the suddenness of your turn, but just barely manages to take a step back. Jackie runs straight into Shauna, of course. 

Jackie opens her mouth, indignant, before sharing a look with Shauna and then nodding sullenly. 

“Fine,” she agrees reluctantly, her arms crossing over her chest. “Not today.” 

You smile at them, knowing that you should probably know better than to take them at their word. Their compliance was only ever temporary, you were sure. 

…

You don't run as your window slowly cracks open. You don't even flinch. Half expecting them to show up, you hadn't even bothered to try to go to sleep. It was almost a relief to hear the quiet footfalls against the floor of your room after you'd spent the last several hours switching between staring at the wall, your ceiling, and your alarm clock. 

There's no need to look even as you hear a second set of footsteps against the floor and then the quiet squeaking of your window closing. You start to sit up as the bed creaks in protest beneath someone's weight, but quickly find yourself pressed flat against the mattress with a knife to your throat. 

Shauna's hand is steady as she holds the blade right against your skin, fingers gripping the hilt with a white-knuckled confidence that makes you shiver, the sharp edges so close you're almost afraid to breathe too heavily in fear of cutting yourself. She swings one leg over your hip, settling her weight on top of you to keep you pinned beneath her. The position is reminiscent of the one you'd seen her take with Tatum, but this time you feel none of the fear and betrayal you felt before. No, it's something else entirely different that you feel in the pit of your stomach at the sight. 

Something you don't care to name. 

The weight on top of you is calming, almost familiar. You've found yourself in this position at least a dozen times, but never with her knife involved. The heat of her body against yours contrasts so well with cold steel pressing against your neck. You wonder idly if it's the same one she's used on all her victims. Some part of you hopes it is. You want to ask, to have her explain every gory detail to you as she holds you hostage in your own bed, but mostly you just want her. 

You reach up for Shauna's hips–not to stop her or push her away, just to touch–but your hands are swatted away with a click of Jackie's tongue. 

“Ah, ah,” Jackie murmurs in that same patronizing tone you'd chide a misbehaving child in. 

She holds your hands down against your stomach as she sits cross-legged next to you on the bed, looking far too interested in the scene in front of her. You're sure you could break your hands away with fairly little effort, she was barely holding on tightly enough to discolor the skin, but you couldn't afford the movement with the knife pressed so close to your throat. 

“You get to listen now,” Jackie says, squeezing one of your hands. “We let you do all the talking before.” The words hang in the air for a moment, a gentle reminder of the situation. 

Her thumb traces idle circles against the skin of your hands, her index finger brushing purposefully against the sliver of skin showing where your shirt was pulled up. You normally would've let her play it off like an accident, like her hand just slipped, but you don't think either of you are in the mood for that game tonight. 

Your eyes narrow slightly, an undeniable frustration rising at her words. You hadn't talked at all. But you're smart enough to just swallow the accusation, nodding as much as you can manage without nicking yourself. Shauna looks pleased at the response, shifting on her knees to get a better view as she stares down at your face. Her eyes, inevitably, flick back and forth between yours and where the blade is pressed against you. She seems fascinated by the sight. 

“Don't look at her,” Shauna says, irritation clear in the bite of her fingers into your chin as she turns your head to look up at her. Her fingertips press into your cheek as she cups your face, her hand hovering just above the knife she's holding to your throat. You'd been looking at Jackie as she spoke, attention naturally pulled toward her, and it's clear that Shauna hasn't appreciated that at all. Shauna doesn't like fighting for your attention at the best of times, let alone while she's sitting on top of you. It never took much to set Shauna off when Jackie was involved, especially if it involved your attention. 

You feel a strange urge to sigh, yet again put in the middle of one of their little spats. Jackie sighs, a disappointed sound that's barely audible but is enough to make Shauna shift uncomfortably on top of you. Her head turns to look at Jackie, eyes wide with frustration or guilt or something else entirely, the corners of her lips downturned as she tries to think of something to say. The knife seems almost forgotten in the exchange. 

Jackie doesn't say anything, her presence more of a shadow next to you at the very edge of your vision. You can still feel her there, hand resting against your stomach and still stroking your hand in slow, deliberate circles. Something is exchanged between them in that moment of silence, some quiet communication that has always left you confused and more than a little jealous. 

“Eyes on me,” Shauna demands again, even though your eyes hadn't left her side profile. It's not quite a threat, but it could be. It's always a possibility with her. She's still not looking at you, staring over at Jackie in a way that has you dangerously curious. You don't dare to look at Jackie, not wanting Shauna to think you weren't completely hers while she battles her own jealousy. 

“Don't hurt her,” Jackie finally says, sounding almost amused at Shauna's power play. It's nothing new with Shauna, always one to push and push to see how far she could toe that line. Shauna's expression has softened now that she looks back down at you, but there's still an intensity there that makes it impossible to draw your eyes away even if she hadn't told you not to. 

She's satisfied for the moment, your undivided attention won at least briefly. “You're not going to scream?” She questions, almost unsure if that disappoints her or excites her. The way she looks at you makes you wonder how she'd react if she heard your voice break beneath her. 

“You'd like that, wouldn't you?” You mutter, your voice a little hoarse but undeniably challenging. It's not a question, but an accusation. There's a flicker of something in her eyes, her lips finally twitching into a smile. She's decided, then: it excites her. Shauna doesn't reply right away, her fingers gripping the knife tighter as she leans down closer to you. You wonder if she's going to press down harder, breathless at the thought of her cutting into you with the same skill she'd used to to carve all those people up. 

“Maybe,” she acknowledges. “I think I might like you like this more, though.”

Jackie's watching carefully even as she projects an air of nonchalance, eyes lingering where the knife has begun to bite into your skin. Her breath hitches as she catches sight of the bead of blood traveling along the edge of the blade. 

“Shauna,” Jackie warns, voice cutting through the tension between you. Shauna rolls her eyes, pulling the knife just far enough from your skin to placate Jackie. It's barely an inch, but it's enough to get Jackie to relax back against the mattress. There's a huff, like Jackie's caution was completely unnecessary. Her eyes trace down your skin, following the faint red stain left on your skin before it disappears beneath the collar of your shirt. 

She shares another look with Jackie before, with absolutely no warning, she leans down to kiss you. You let out a surprised noise but eagerly move to reciprocate. The knife bites back into your skin, Shauna using the closeness between your chests to hide the movement. You almost laugh, and you would've if not for the way the sound was lost in your throat, drowned out by the possessive way she kisses you. 

Jackie's eyes are still locked on you, even if she manages to miss the knife in favor of watching your lips move against Shauna's. She shifts closer, her fingers flexing against your stomach as she pulls her from between your bodies to brush Shauna's hair over her shoulder for a better view. She moves slowly, so utterly unhurried, like she's savoring each and every moment. 

Though Jackie's fingers don't physically touch the blade, her hand lingers close enough on your neck that Shauna finally removes herself from you long enough to drop it in the vague direction of your nightstand. It's obvious Shauna intends to take her place back, but Jackie doesn't give her the chance as she turns your head to capture your lips instead. 

Shauna lets out a groan, pinching at Jackie's arm before she turns her attention to your neck instead. No one can say that Shauna Shipman isn't adaptable. She's gentle at first as her lips meet the soft skin of your neck, teasing with deliberate kisses that quickly turn into bites as she zeros in on the trail of blood still marking your neck. Her touch is more aggressive now, teeth dragging along your skin to mark you in a way that Jackie can't. 

Jackie rests a hand lightly on your cheek, keeping you focused on her as Shauna's lips trail along the collar of your shirt. Despite her apparent gentleness, her desire makes her somehow more dangerous for it, teeth grazing against your skin as she tries desperately to get closer. Her eagerness makes her endearingly sloppy, clearly struggling to keep up with the almost methodical way Shauna moves. Frustration manifests in the way Jackie's hands are everywhere and nowhere, like she can't make her mind up about where she wants to put them. She's always wanted everything at once, unable to decide between a need for restraint or her desire to indulge. If you were more cognizant at this moment, it wouldn't have surprised you to feel her hands darting across your body as she shifted impatiently at your side. 

For the first time tonight, she seems to get a little peeved at the way Shauna's been hogging you, pushing lightly at her shoulders to get her to move over a little. A move that backfires as Shauna bites down on your shoulder in retaliation, causing you to finally push both of them away with an annoyed cry. You reacted instinctively, sending both of them away with more force than was necessary.

“Enough,” you mutter, frustrated at being made a competition. 

Jackie looks over at you with wide-eyed surprise as she sits back on her heels, lips parted like she can't believe you actually pushed her–like she's the victim somehow. Shauna looks terribly pleased as she has to catch herself with her hand to stop from toppling off the bed entirely. The rooms quiet for a bit as you rub at your shoulder, annoyed as you glance between them. Shauna seems insufferably smug about the whole situation, not even bothering to hide her amusement as she watches you. 

Jackie, on the other hand, seems genuinely upset as she glares over at Shauna. Shauna pulls herself out of her moment of triumph to return it equally as seriously. You almost have to laugh at the sight of their mused hair and flushed faces as they stare the other down, both clearly refusing to accept fault. It's so completely childish the way they both stubbornly refuse to let go, and you smile at the thought of a little Jackie and Shauna doing the same thing on the playground as children. 

Neither of them seem truly upset at the whole thing, tension softening as Shauna rolls her eyes and looks away. She quickly leans forward to press one last kiss against your neck before flopping down on the bed next to you. Jackie's still a little sulky, fingers trailing across your skin to try to soothe the marks Shauna left before resting her hands back in her lap. 

“I thought I asked you not to do this today,” You accuse mildly, grinning playfully to break Jackie's quiet irritation. 

“It's midnight,” Jackie defends with a pout, grabbing your hand and lacing your fingers together. She squeezes your hand gently, as if trying to make up for earlier. “It's a different day, see?”

“Is that right?”

“That's generally how days work, yeah,” Shauna adds dryly. There's a lazy sort of confidence about her, shrugging unrepentantly, unaffected by even your most playful scolding. Shauna starts to reach for the knife again, clearly itching to have it back in her hands, but aborts the movement halfway through after a look from Jackie. 

“You freaked out on us Saturday,” Jackie says carefully, trying not to make it sound like the accusation it so obviously was. The frustration lining the statement is easy to pick up on, but the hurt lingering beneath it required someone fluent in Jackie subtleties to pick up on. It's not obvious in her voice or by the set of her lips–it's the way her eyes don't quite meet yours, focused on some insignificant point on your face, or the way her fingers clench just a little tighter around yours. For someone who wears her heart on her sleeve all the time, she's gotten quite skilled at hiding her hurts, a natural deflection hidden behind a seemingly radiant smile. 

“Did you think I wouldn't?” You ask, honestly baffled at the thought process behind it. 

Jackie hesitates, the corners of her lips twitching into something between a pout and a frown before looking over at Shauna for support. She doesn’t jump in immediately, letting the silence linger on long enough that Jackie starts to squirm before speaking.

“We thought you might have handled it differently,” Shauna says evenly, propping herself up on her elbow.

“Handled it differently? You killed my date–” You stop midsentence, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You know what? I’m not arguing with you about this. You’re insane. You're both insane.”

Shauna, the asshole that she is, doesn’t even flinch at the accusation. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.” The teasing in her voice makes you want to hit something, but knowing her, she would probably enjoy it.

“You didn’t even like her,” Jackie adds, almost daring you to say otherwise. There’s an edge of jealousy underlying it that has you wanting to hear more of it. She’s not wrong, exactly, but the sureness in her voice sends a shiver down your spine. “She left you to go meet someone else anyway.”

“Jackie…” You say slowly. “You know I was going to meet her in the woods to–”

“You didn’t like her,” Shauna interrupts, shaking her head. She gives you a wide-eyed look as she purposely glances at Jackie. You catch the warning: Jackie’s going to lose it.

“...Fine. You’re justifying murder by saying I didn’t like her?”

“She didn’t even appreciate you like we would,” Jackie mutters under her breath, still sulking as she starts to play with your fingers. The action is equally comforting and possessive, like she’s trying to distract you away from the conversation at hand if you would just let her. A pathetic attempt to soften the blow of what they did.

“You were bored,” Shauna says matter-of-factly. “You’re welcome.”

“Well, as long as I was bored,” you mutter under your breath.

“You’re not really upset about Tatum, are you?” Jackie asks as she leans closer. Her voice is warm against your ear, her voice playful as she continues. “Was it the pictures? Shauna promises she's sorry about those pictures she took. She thought you'd like them.” 

“What?” You say, flushing at how it comes out as squeak. You glance over at Shauna, eyes narrowing in accusation. “I'd forgotten about that.”

“Nice going, Jax,” Shauna mumbles under her breath. Her fingers twitch, like she still wants that familiar weight of the knife in her palm. She clearly hadn’t been intending on sharing that particular bit of information, and you can see her frustration with Jackie for even bringing it up. Shauna’s always so careful about what she lets people know about her.

You didn’t quite blame her for that–those pictures had been creepy as hell. You would've kept that information to yourself too at this point. The very mention of them fills you with fear for the first time since Saturday. Out of everything that’s happened, those pictures of you just going about your life had been the worst part of it. You were looking over your shoulder for weeks after you first received them, terrified every moment would be your last.

Even after realizing Shauna and Jackie had been behind all the murders, you hadn’t quite put it together that they’d been the ones following you for all that time. If it had been anyone else, you would’ve been horrified beyond belief. 

Beyond forgiveness. 

But this is Shauna, and you’ve already forgiven worse, haven’t you?

You shift awkwardly, suddenly feeling a little trapped between them. They’d carefully placed themselves on either side of you from the beginning, even before this night, but it’s never felt this oppressive before. Shauna still hasn’t met your eye, though, and you can’t have that. You give a dramatic sigh, something you’d learned from Jackie, before silently offering her what she’s too proud to ask for: your hand.

Shauna’s expression almost immediately goes neutral, her eyes lingering on your hand before lacing your fingers together as if doing you a favor. You’re just glad to see the uncertain look leave her face. It’s almost unsettling to watch how quickly she changes up, but somehow it’s soothing. Familiar. You can never quite predict how Shauna will react to anything with any real certainty.

“She’s so moody. But so are you. Don’t be so grumpy,” Jackie murmurs affectionately, pressing a kiss against your temple. She doesn’t pull away after, resting her head next to yours on the pillow as she starts to play with the ends of your hair. “Steven was an asshole. So was Allie.”

“What about the other ones?” You ask dryly. 

You’re not really asking because you want to know, but more out of a sense of obligation you haven’t quite shaken. Casey was your friend at one time. You’d like Tatum enough to agree to go out with her. A normal person would be more upset about that sort of thing, wouldn’t they? But here you are, laying between them and holding Shauna’s hand while Jackie plays with your hair like nothing’s wrong.

Shauna squeezes your hand. A warning. Don’t you remember where your loyalties lie?

“Shauna was jealous,” Jackie whispers against your ear, glancing over at Shauna with a sly smile. Shauna scoffs, low and dismissive, immediately responding to the taunt. Jackie giggles, shifting closer to burying her head further into your shoulder and playfully pressing her lips against your neck. She looks up at Shauna through strands of your hair, her face shining with mischief.

“Shauna was jealous, huh?” Shauna repeats, finally sitting up. “I think Jackie was jealous.”

“Maybe,” Jackie whispers, twirling a strand of your hair idly around her finger. The rhythmic tug and release had been lulling you to sleep since she started. “You’re not innocent either, Shauna.” 

She doesn’t seem to care much about the argument, cuddling further into your side as she uses your body as a shield between them. It’s all about needling Shauna, about making her squirm.

“Please,” Shauna starts, clearly intending on winning this argument. Jackie smiles against your skin. “Tatum never stood a chance after you–”

[germiyahu]

That "racism of low expectations" point can be applied to more than Westerners patting their little Jihad Meow Meows on the head by the way. I think it also applies to American Jews, usually assimilated, acting like Israel is this Entity and not a country made up of mostly Middle Eastern Jews, people. When they do acknowledge that Israelis are people who aren't just acting in the interests of an all powerful governmental animus, they act like all Israelis are bloodthirsty frat bro soldiers wreaking havoc in Gaza because they think it's fun.

Because what is this? This tweet was in response to the chaotic backlash against Jonathan Glazer, who espoused a nearly identical sentiment. That sentiment being: Israel is using our Jewishness for some nefarious political purpose. It's not fair! We didn't sign off on GENOCIDE! How dare they use us to do this!

Israeli Jews are seen too unenlightened, too religious, too much of an embarrassment, to much of Diaspora Jewry. And yet at the same time their Jewishness is not even considered to be part of the political calculus of Israel at all? These not in my name types truly think Israel is a shadowy cabal of like 20 old white men (ironic) getting off on destroying lives and using as shields these poor innocent Americans and Brits, famously two peoples who've never twisted or corrupted the legacy of the Holocaust before.

They obviously have very hurt feelings that Israeli Jews dare to be Jews, to invoke their own Jewishness, Jewish values, to justify military action. They're not even really doing that? They want the hostages back. That is the primary concern if you poll Israeli citizens right now. And that's been the case pretty much every day since the pogrom. That's it. That's why they're saying Never Again. If that offends you as a Jewish person really let that steep. Really sit with your emotional reaction to Jews having a trauma reaction to traumatizing events and relating other events of Jewish trauma throughout history to that event. Ask yourself if it's appropriate to insinuate that they're using their Jewishness, sorry just YOUR Jewishness apparently, to make you look bad?

Israeli politicians have invoked the Holocaust outright, as a comparison. Because clearly the country whose "white" population is mostly made up of the descendants of Holocaust refugees has no business doing that? That's an affront to your name and your values?Again, why do you think everything is about you? Why do you think everything Israel does is even in your name in the first place? Is it American Brainrot Disease again?

You think Israeli Jews are so incapable of rationality and of yearning for social justice (they just want their family members back) that you erase them from the conversation. Israeli leftists are not real and are not working with Palestinians as we speak, and certainly aren't advocating for a ceasefire more successfully than anyone on this continent! Israeli politicians who speak to their constituents and use the shared cultural language of being Jews are trying to brainwash and influence Americans, because they have no constituents. Israel is just a bunch of racist politicians and a mercenary army that's trained to kill children specifically.

Like this is getting so annoying. It's clear they wish they could just excommunicate all Israelis, because they're Bad Jews. They want to take away their Jewish card, because that's not what Real Judaism stands for! And then they get offended when non secular Jews around the world dare question their Jewish identities in response to this behavior. Which I'm not condoning for the record, but how about you practice what you preach for once?