#wait a minute why does it already have seven plays

[daddysropepuppy]

puppy whines n woofs :3

this audio was too big for tumblr :( so i made a soundgasm acc :)

[hairmetal666]

Steve wins the bat plush at a fair when he's seven. He doesn't care about bats, but it's the prize for making all five baskets in the basketball game, so he gets the little bat. Its eyes are a little crooked and one wing is slightly smaller than the other, but it being lopsided sort of makes it cuter.

He and his dad, they're supposed to be going on rides now, but his dad's pager keeps going off. He puts Steve next to a funnel cake stand, tells him not to move, and goes in search of a pay phone. Fifteen minutes pass, and Steve is bored under the flashing lights and tinkling music. He wants to play not sit and wait.

Eventually, he drifts back towards the midway, watches the people rushing by, searches for a sign of his dad's return. His attention is caught by another boy at the basketball booth. He has to be about Steve's age, with a mop of dark curls on top of his head and a jean jacket that's slightly too big, sleeves flopping over his hands as he lines up his shots.

This boy, he's terrible at basketball. Every shot is too high or too short or goes wide, but he's trying. Even from this distance, Steve can see how hard he's trying. He uses up his five balls, fishes into his jacket pocket for more money, and gets five more.

He misses every shot. This time, when he goes back for more money, he comes up empty. Steve thinks he sees his lip shaking.

A man, one in a leather jacket and boots that Steve thinks look mean, comes up to the boy, drops a heavy hand on his shoulder. He's too far away to hear the conversation, assumes the boy asks to play again and the man's response is a shaken head and a tight smile. They walk away from the games, right towards Steve, who slinks back to the side of the midway, not wanting to be caught staring.

"What was it you wanted? That stupid bat? Just another piece of trash you wanna bring in my house." Steve hears as they pass.

The boy nods, but keeps his eyes down and to the side.

He feels bad then. Felt bad before, but now he looks at his own bat, at its funny eyes and poorly attached wings, and wishes he could hand it over to the boy who really wants it. Steve almost does, then, makes to go after them, but his dad appears, dropping a hand to Steve's shoulder and saying, "ready to hit those rides?" And he knows the opportunity is gone, knows his dad will say it's too soft, not what men do.

Steve manages to lose himself for a while in the swirling lights and funhouse music and carnival rides, forget about the little bat in his back pocket and the boy who wanted one so desperately. But then his dad's pager goes off some more, he goes back to the pay phone, and Steve ducks into the low brick building that houses the bathrooms.

His eyes immediately land on the same boy from the basketball game. His eyes are red, face damp, obviously from tears, and Steve just--

"Here." He shoves the bat into the boy's chest.

For a second, the brownest eyes Steve's ever seen widen at him, before narrowing in a harsh glare, the boy's teeth barred.

"Why?" He snarls.

Steve thinks he may regret every choice that led him to this but he says, he says, "Because I want you to have it."

The boy blinks a few times, hand reaching out to gently pinch the bat's smallest wing. "You sure?"

Steve nods and the bat is slowly withdrawn from his grasp.

"No takesies-backsies?"

"It's yours."

The boy looks at the bat in awe, and Steve says, "see? It already looks happier with you."

The boy's beaming smile is cut-off by a voice calling from the door, "you in there,? I ain't got time to be waiting for your boohooing."

"Coming!" The boy carefully tucks the bat into an inner pocket of his jacket. "Thank you," he whispers, eyes big and glistening and happy, before he disappears out the door.

---

13 years later, give or take a few months, and Steve stands in the cracked shell of a bisected trailer, rummaging through what remains of a life well-lived, searching for anything whole. He's already found a few undamaged mugs and clean hats, but this room--it took a lot of damage. The brunt of it, really. Some sick sort of joke, after everything.

It's mostly rubble in here, scraps of fabric; slivers of notebook paper, magazine, poster; crumbled shards of vinyl and cassette plastic. A few times he comes across the disembodied limb of one of those dnd figures, and something weird happens to his throat.

In the far corner there's half of a dresser collapsed into itself, and he shuffles through the debris to see what he can find. There's something, soft and black, just the edge of it, peaking out from under half of a drawer face. He pulls it out, careful as can be and it's--it's a plush bat. It's a little dirty, but unharmed, though its eyes are a little wonky, and one wing is smaller than the other.

He holds it and he stares and he has to brace himself against the wall. It can't be--it's not the same one--but he remembers those big brown eyes and the curls and--

"Harrington," a warm, rich voice calls from what's left of the hallway. "You get lost in there?"

Eddie shuffles in, slow, careful with his crutches. And it--it took so long, months and months of convalesce and physical therapy, still physical therapy, but he's here. He's alive. He's perfect. And the something blooming between them, it's not spoken yet, but it's there, growing, and now, now--

"Oh my god, you found Lilith! I thought she was toast."

"Lilith?" He's still cradling the little lopsided bat in his hands, but moves closer to hand it over to Eddie.

"Yes, Lilith." Eddie takes the bat, presses it to his chest. "The first boy I ever loved gave her to me."

His heart turns over in his chest and when he swallows his throat clicks. Eddie doesn't notice, he's smiling softly at the bat, at Lilith, but then, "why are you looking at me like that?"

"First boy you ever loved?" He says. He thinks he sounds normal.

Somehow, Eddie's smile grows even softer. "Yeah. Roan County Fair, years ago. Tried to win her, but--" he clicks his tongue--"never had great hand-eye coordination. And then this kid just gave her to me out of nowhere. I used to think I was going to marry him."

"And now?"

Eddie laughs. "I grew up, Steve."

And for a second, he doesn't know what to say, but then, "I was right then, huh? That she'd be happier with you."

He stares at Steve, those same big brown eyes, wide and glistening. "Steve that was--Steve?" Eddie presses a hand over his mouth, overcome, before launching himself into Steve's arms. The crutches clatter to the floor, but Steve has him, will always have him, no matter what.

"I can't believe you kept her," Steve whispers.

"God, I carry her everywhere. She's Corroded Coffin's mascot, and you--Steve, I can't believe that was you."

"Surprise," he bumps Eddie's forehead with his.

They hold each other in the center of the destruction, but none of that matters right now, not when it feels like every moment since they very first met as children was leading them to this.

From the other half of the trailer, they hear footsteps, chattering, Wayne and Robin and Dustin, but Steve wants this to last a little longer.

"So, marriage...that still off the table?"

Eddie laughs softly, nuzzles his face against Steve's neck. "Are you kidding, sweetheart? No way I'm letting you go."

[prael]

Not Quite Home

Kinktember Day 15: Stand & Carry

Kepler Youngeun x male reader smut

words: 1,495 Kinktember Masterlist

She is everything you're not. Everything you hate. How can someone refuse to have a place to call home?

All this about being a free spirit and experiencing everything that the world has to offer all sounds well and good but how is a tree supposed to grow if it has no roots? But Youngeun insists that is exactly what she is after, the constant thrill, the constant novelty, the rush and urgency. In every interaction, she seems to have been in search of the next big adventure.

And you think you do her a disservice by not understanding.

Perhaps if you had met each other under other circumstances, things might have gone better for the two of you. But now, you resent how she feels like a stranger whenever you're together. She once brought an element of excitement and risk to a routine, drab life, but that grew exhausting and more than once made you feel like you were suffocating. You grew to loathe her carelessness.

"Your parents?" You ask as she stands in your bedroom for the third night in a row, "Have you even told them you're back in town?"

She shakes her head in lieu of an answer, "You know how they are."

"You're going to blame them for wanting their daughter to visit for once?"

Youngeun laughs. It's one of your least favourite traits—her incapability to take anything seriously. "Not your business. Besides, seven nights, remember?"

Yes. Seven nights. This is what she told you, another expiry date on another chapter of whatever the fuck this is between you. Another unspoken contract was signed for the hell of it. A time limit, for something that isn't even real.

"Just think about it," you continue, hopelessly, "talking with your family. It'll clear your mind."

"Know what clears my mind? The wind in my hair, sun on my skin, music in my ears," Youngeun runs her hand through her silky hair, "Landing in some new town, finding a new local hang out to try something exotic and then exploring whatever is hidden in that town's history, picking up a new person, hooking up with them, letting the excitement course through my veins, knowing there's always something else waiting on the horizon."

Another insufferable thing that she does. It's been maybe fifteen minutes since you tangled limbs in the bed and now she's standing across the room naked making no secret of the fact that she picks up guys and girls wherever she goes. Youngeun looks down at you on the mattress and runs her eyes up and down your body, her fingers resting lightly over her collarbone.

You follow the line of her fingers, nails cut short with traces of peeled black nail paint. A callus on her finger is a reminder of how often she played the guitar. She runs them down her chest, thumb catching a nipple in the process of doing so.

"Look at you. You get hotter every time I come back." And just like that, Youngeun drops a compliment, casual and effortless and you question who's benefiting from this relationship because it clearly isn't you.

You're gonna fuck her again tonight. Tomorrow too, and another three nights after that. After which she'll be gone for another six months to a year. There's a weird emotional emptiness to this routine—you give and she takes and this is all she asks.

"Come here, will you? Pin me to this wall already. Make me feel you." Her hand cups her breast and another traces its way down her abs, a clear intention.

You should hate her, really. Like how you hate the idea that she left home for no reason or how she wasted her potential, hate her for her indifference, for her recklessness and her cold detachment, or hate the fact that it's just meaningless sex. 

She doesn't like strings, it makes no sense to her how people commit. If she was the type of person who asked to be understood, you would probably try to, but that's never something she ever expressed. 

For all of that, you don't hate her. It's why you're still walking towards her and she's backing up into the wall.

So, what does she ask for? Her answer is pleasure and pain.

She kisses like a raging fire. Everywhere her hands roam leaves marks on your skin; she scratches deep in your back as you hook her thigh up around your waist. A hand between her legs, sliding in without any sort of preamble. She's still dripping wet, though some of that may well be your last load. She tastes of salty, sweaty sex and you relish it. She kisses and she gasps as your fingers work at her entrance; crooking them upward so you can press them into her and rub right against the sensitive spot inside her.

Her tongue slides past yours, hot and wet as she grinds up into your hand, claws digging into your lower back. Your hand fucks into her roughly with reckless abandon and her breathing gets shallow as your fingers bring her closer and closer.

It doesn't take long, she's close, you know that when she throws her head back against the wall. "Stop—wait, fuck—wait," Youngeun barely gasps and then with your name in her throat, the friction of your fingers sends her over the edge. A moan escapes as her mouth falls open, eyes clamp shut as you finger her to orgasm.

It's always been easy to make Youngeun cum, but it never loses its magic. There's something particularly thrilling to the way she moans your name in that honey-laced rasp, to the way her entire body arches upwards as the pleasure mounts. A sharp gasp cuts the air.

Her limbs slacken. She leans her head against the wall. She's struggling to catch her breath.

And this is the fucking problem. For every reason to hate her, there are so many more reasons to enjoy her.

That's when you lift her, hooking up the other thigh and holding her by her tight little ass. Youngeun hisses and she's staring daggers and that's always a part of the fun. She'll give you these looks that could kill a lesser man, but you know the only solution is to pound her into submission.

"Be rough with me. Hard," Youngeun pants, sucking air in, breath ragged. Her skin's hot to the touch.

"Like last time?" Your voice comes low, thick and gruff as you hook her legs higher.

"No, harder, faster," Youngeun replies between rapid, short breaths, she grips your arms, rolls her hips and wraps her body tighter around you, "Want me to stay? Fuck me until I can't walk out."

You're incensed and sliding your length over her slick, warm, inviting heat, before slamming her back into the wall, entering her in one long hard motion and enjoying the way her lips fall apart; enjoying the way her hot and messy, fucked-out body arches upward as you hit deeper and the way her cries pitch. You don't even wait for her to catch her breath before snapping your hips over and over and giving Youngeun exactly the type of pounding that she wants.

There's a sharp gasp. A second of silence and then a choked-back scream. You feel a palm on the nape of your neck and a sting on your shoulders as her nails dig deep and scratch. She rakes them over the broad expanse of your upper back and it fucking hurts. It fucking stings and it's delicious. You bury yourself deep inside her, stretch and fuck her all open on your dick.

"Like that. Yes! Like that! Fucking ruin me."

"Since you asked so nicely."

Her moans become a struggle now that you've run a hand roughly up her body and planted it around her neck. Squeezing, not too hard, not to cut her airflow, not to bruise, but firmly enough that she will feel it and feel that she is being held. She loves to feel hopeless. And there, that's what you like: her hot, sweaty body locked between you and the wall and helpless against you as you sink into her.

And as much as she says it doesn't mean anything. Youngeun cries out your name like it means something.

The ever-familiar suffocating grip of her wet cunt grips you as she cums again. Bodies flushed together, grinding and sweaty.

"I can't breathe—" Youngeun whimpers in that cracked, vulnerable and submissive way and you snarl. Fuck her up as promised. Hurt her like she begs for. And Youngeun loves it like nothing else, absolutely nothing, her eyes rolling to the back of her head and a strangled groan as you reach another climax and fill up her pussy again. You pound yet another load into her tight hole.

As much as she would hate to ever admit it, this is as close to a home as she has in her life.

[hurtspideyparker]

Part 3 of if Civil War didn't end in divorce and everyone lived together

Part 1 Part 2

-

Mission debrief:

Thor: Don't feel bad Banner, I mean is there anyone at this table who hasn't killed somebody?

Peter: *slowly raises hand*

Natasha: Don't worry you're still young

Peter: 😟

-

Steve: Has anyone seen my shield?

Clint: *points outside*

*Peter, Thor, and Bucky playing frisbee with it*

Steve: I guess I'm not saving those orphans today :/

-

Clint: Tony I said seedless watermelon, are you trying to kill me?

Tony: You're a big boy, you aren't gonna choke

Clint: No but it might... grow

Tony: Oh please don't tell me you still think watermelon seeds grow inside your stomach if you swallow them

Clint:

Pietro: Bro got a licence to kill but still has a Jack and the Beanstock level of education

-

2:34 am

Tony: *leaving Steve's bedroom*

Sam: *leaving Bucky's bedroom*

Tony:

Sam:

Tony: Let's never speak of this?

Sam: Yep.

-

Steve: Tony, you're the smartest person I know. You understand anything you set out to study, your passion is remarkable, innovation beyond anyone on the planet, and an incredible memory

Tony: Thank you thank you

Steve: So why do you STILL NOT CLOSE THE KITCHEN CABINETS

Tony: Uh

Steve: SOME OF US ARE TALL TONY. SOME OF US HAVE BRUISES ON THEIR FOREHEADS BECAUSE OF THIS NEGLIGENCE

-

Tony: Goodnight kid *tucks Peter into bed and kisses his forehead*

*Clint, Vision, Thor, and Dum-E waiting outside the room*

Tony: Oh come on. All of you?

*nodding*

Tony: Vision you don't even sleep. Dum-E I am not kissing you again you gave me chemical burns last time

Dum-E: *lowers head and whirs sadly*

-

Bucky: Don't sit so close to me

Sam: Why, cause I'm black 🤨

Bucky: No because you smell like ass sweat

Sam:

Sam: Why, cause I'm bl-

-

During training:

Natasha: *flips Steve and slams him onto his back*

Peter: Woah! I wanna know how to do that

Natasha: *flips Peter and slams him onto his back*

Natasha: Seems like you already know how

-

Tony: Okay Merida, you and me, darts for a hundred bucks. My suit vs. your freak self

Clint: I'll take that bet

*7 minutes later*

Tony: I have advanced AI targetting technology. SUPER. SUIT. How did I lose?!

Clint: It can do a lot of things Tony but at the end of the day it can't super suck this di-

-

Bucky: Sam's in medical so I'll do the mission debrief with you

Natasha: That was fast, I thought you'd still be coddling your boyfriend the rest of the day

Bucky: What. How do you know about us.

Natasha: I don't, it was a joke...

Bucky:

Natasha:

Bucky: Damn you really are good at interrogation

-

Bruce: I've taken up puzzles as a hobby. It's actually really relaxing

*Box is missing the last piece*

Bruce: *sighs, erases the 61 under the 'Days Without Hulk Incident' sign*

-

Natasha: Kings

Bucky: Go fish. Sevens?

Natasha: Nada. Fives?

Bucky: Shit. Here

Sam: I thought y'all were playing poker, are you for real playing Go Fish?

Natasha: Our pockets got cleaned out so we quit. The poker game is over by Steve

Peter: HAHA SUCK IT OLD MAN, AMERICA JUST WENT BANKRUPT *pulls giant pile of animal crackers to himself*

-

Steve: Do you want to play catch?

Wanda: What?

Steve: Um. Do you want to watch Hannah Montana?

Wanda: I don't even know what you're talking about

Steve: Maybe I could show you how to brush your teeth?

Wanda: Steve you're really scaring me

Steve: The article said to do it together! *shows phone*

Wanda: Are you getting parenting advice from wikihow? Did you even read it or were you just skimming the pictures

Steve: ...Well why'd they put toothbrushing in the photo if it wasn't a good bonding activity?

-

Sam: Why are your titties so bouncy man. Is it to deflect bullets?

Steve: What did you just say about my chest...

Sam: Hey I call em as I see em, and they're staring right at me.

-

Peter: Yo Mr. Stark wanna see a backflip?

Peter: Oh Cap come see my front handsprings

Peter: Natasha watch this aerial cartwheel!

Tony: Why did you tell him you were in the circus. Now that the idea's in his head all he does is jump around and cause noise complaints from downstairs

Clint: C'mon it's cute! He's talented

Bucky: I'm gonna tell him it doesn't count because he has superpowers and that he's a cheat

Tony: But that'll ruin his confidence

Bucky: God I hope so

[mochiwonz]

✉︎ - you're my match-a ♡

𓍯𓂃 content : fem!reader x bestfriend!ni-ki , bestfriends to lovers (boring trope - i know but its one of my faves so </33) , fluff , realization of feelings , this is a cutee fic :3 , reader LOVES matcha , ni-ki is so sweet

𓍯𓂃 word count : 1.1k

𓍯𓂃 note : i actually really enjoyed writing this !! ni-ki rly strikes me as someone that would obviously hint at his liking for you and play it off but never confess boldly. (also pls lmk who u want to see next for the "type of bf" series too :p)

Honestly, you're a matcha addict. You have matcha every day, seven days a week. And of course your bestfriend, ni-ki, knows how much you love your matcha. Like, he knows your exact order - a large matcha latte with medium sugar, less ice, and organic milk. He's the person that gets it for you most of the time, anyways. Since you're busy with your studies, and he's just out and about and in the dance studio most of the time. But he doesn't mind it at all, he likes doing things for you. Why? Because he's your bestie, duh. Actually wait, no, it's because he likes you.

Of course, you're blissfully unaware of his crush on you. That's just how you are, you think he's just doing these nice gestures for you because he's your bestie. Ni-ki has a love and (mostly) hate relationship with the word "bestfriend" because on one hand, he's happy that you guys are close, but he wants to be more to you. He wants the title of your boyfriend, not your bestie.

Anyways, it's 9pm on a Saturday night and you're at home studying with music blasting in your headphones. You felt like something was off for the past 4 hours, but you couldn't really tell what it was. And - oh, you hadn't got matcha yet. But, it was already so late and the nearest cafe was too far to walk to, especially at night.

And it's as if ni-ki knew, because he texts you "hey y/n, had ur matcha today?" Smiling a little, you text back "hiii nini, no not yet :(( ive been busy studying and lost track of time..."

You wait a few minutes for a response from him, and nothing. Hm, that's not like him, but you just shrug it off. You still have to study for your upcoming exam anyways. Once again, you allow yourself to get lost in your studying and music.

It's been about an hour, around 10pm and - *knock knock* huh? Who would knock on your door at 10pm at night? Slowly walking to the door, you hold your breath.

"Y/n you there??" you hear from the other side of the door.

Oh, you could recognize that deep voice anywhere, it's just ni-ki. Wait - what was he doing here?

Opening the door, you're ready to question him. But instead, you're caught off guard with ni-ki in a grey hoodie, white tank, washed out jeans and two matcha lattes in hand. Oh, that's why he's here. And you felt your heart melt a little at the realization.

"Oh my god nini, you couldn't have texted me? I thought you were a murderer or a weirdo" you tell him, giggling a little. He smiles down at you and there's a weird feeling in your stomach. Confused, you just shrug it off and tell him to come inside.

Once you were both inside, he hands you the matcha latte. "Couldn't have you be sad, so I had to run to the cafe since it was closing soon. That's why I forgot to text you, sorryy" he explains in a sweet tone of voice, while sipping on the matcha latte.

That's when it hit you, he doesn't do this for you all the time just because he's your bestfriend. Ni-ki likes you - and you think you might like him, too. That would be the only explanation for the weird feeling in your stomach - butterflies.

Realizing you forgot to say thank you, you tell him "Thanks for this nini, you're too nice to me you know?" And in response, he just smiles sweetly at you and there goes the butterflies again. Fuck.

"Of course y/n, you're my girlll" he says playfully. However, it does something to you that it usually doesn't do. He calls you his girl sometimes, and you always thought it was just friendly and nothing like that. But now, it means something else to you.

Choking on your matcha a little, you put it down and just stare at it. So many thoughts are running through your head, and it doesn't help that you've been studying the whole day and whole night. You aren't functioning like you usually would.

Concerned, ni-ki walks over to you and pats your back. "Hey, you okay? Is the matcha not good? I can-" he tells you but you cut him off.

"Nini why do you always do this for me? You always get me matcha, you remember my order, you always make sure i'm happy. Like, do you like me or something? Because I honestly think I have feelings for you." you say while fidgeting with your rings, blurting out your thoughts.

You look back up at him, and he looks shocked. Eyes wide and mouth slightly agape.

"Wait, wait - y/n, you like me?" he asks, voice laced with shock.

"Yeah.." you mumble in response, only now realizing what you just said. God, your heart is beating out of your chest. You quickly look down just to make sure it actually isn't.

"Oh my fucking god y/n, you don't know how love I've been waiting to hear those three words come out of your mouth. You know, I would never go out of my way to get matcha for someone at 10pm, let alone whenever they need it, I only do it for you. I do it for you because I like you so much, I'm surprised you only noticed now" he tells you while staring into your eyes, the same eyes he can't help but think about 24/7.

Taken aback, you just sit there staring at him. Wow, has he always been this beautiful? You've been taking this beautiful face for granted, fuck. Swiftly, he sits down next to you and picks you up and puts you onto his lap.

"May I have the honor of being your boyfriend, miss y/n?" he asks you playfully and you smile at him.

"Hm...what if I said no?" you ask him, reciprocating the playful energy.

"Y/nnnn" he whines. You find yourself melting when he pulls you closer and rests his head in the crook of your neck.

"I'm just playing nini, of course you can be my boyfriend" you tell him while brushing your fingers through his beautiful blue-ish black hair.

Happy, ni-ki suddenly jumps up and picks you up with him, twirling you around like a princess. After setting you back down, he wraps his large arms around you and brings you into his embrace, inhaling your perfume.

"Hey y/n? You know what?" he asks you, and you can hear by his tone of voice that he's about to pull out a corny joke.

"What?" you respond, laughing a little bit.

"I think you're my match-a...get it?" he says, already laughing to himself.

God, him and his corny ass jokes. Guess he's the man that you're stuck with now! (and you're quite happy that it's nishimura riki <33)

pls reblog if u enjoyed :3 my other works are here if you want to check them out !!

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

logan howlett x asexual!reader

notes: fluff, mentions of sex, kissing, nuanced take on asexuality.

It took you a long time to say yes to going out with Logan.

And it wasn’t simply a case of you ‘playing hard to get’. You have no desire to be a fling. Sure, you recognize that objectively, he is hot! And you think to yourself, maybe you’d give him a shot if he didn’t just want to sleep with you.

So, for months, he pines. And it’s a rather new experience, he’s used to people just throwing themselves at him after a few flirty conversations, but it takes almost four months for you to even agree to go out with him.

When you do, he makes sure to put in his best effort—You two go out to a really nice dinner, and then you go on this long drive to a cliff side, and you lean against his motorcycle, holding hands as you look to the stars.

His heart thumps as your thumb gently rubs against his knuckles.

So the two of you date—

You kiss, you eat lunch together, you spend long nights with your hands running through his hair, reading to him.

But you don’t sleep with him.

He thinks maybe it’s a religious thing or maybe some weird fetish, like you think waiting will make it even better. But he doesn’t ask you about it, because he remembers how long it took you to go out with him, so he keeps it to himself.

Until one day, about seven months into your relationship.

The snow whirls outside the X-Mansion, the wind rattling your windows, as you curl up in bed, wrapped in his flannel, a couple of blankets and his arms.

“Can I ask you a question, Spitfire?” He wonders.

“Anything.” You answer, meaning it whole heartedly.

The Wolverine feels himself get nervous before he asks,

“Why haven’t we had sex yet?” He asks, and you take a minute. You knew the conversation would happen eventually. Logan isn’t your first boyfriend, so you know that the people you’re with are owed an explanation. And you brace yourself—If he isn’t willing to listen to you on this, you’re ready to walk away.

You sit up so you can be looking at him—It’s rather intimate.

“I’m Asexual.” You answer.

A beat.

“A sexual what?”

You laugh a little, mostly because you think it’s silly, especially considering Logan isn’t straight (you see how he’s looked at Scott).

“No, Asexual—It means I experience little to no sexual attraction,” You answer, and he tilts his head.

He’s committed a lot of time to you already. The explanation sort of scares him, and he’s ready to run away but he stays put, not wanting you to think he can’t handle whatever it is you’ve just thrown at him—But he was born in the early 1800’s. Have a bit of grace for the man.

“Okay, What does that mean, though?” He asks, and you’re grateful he hasn’t broken up with you yet.

“So, I.. I really like you. I mean—I love you, Logan.” You confess, “But sex just.. isn’t something I need, especially not often. I get horny, It’s just.. Sex is different for me. I like making out with you, kissing you, touching you—and there might be times where I do want to have sex with you, probably to show my affection and grow closer to you—Sex isn’t procreation or pure pleasure to me, it’s something that I only like to do every once in a while and I do it as a way to get closer to whoever I love. Does that make sense?”

Logan nods. It does make sense—Sex isn’t your thing. And he knows historically, he’s been passed around by the other x-men like a blunt, but in dating you for a while, since you two haven’t slept together, he’s much more okay with that being more rare.

Sure, you’re both attracted to each other, and like you said, making out is really nice, but..

“Yeah.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“Well, I just..” he takes your hands in his, trying to convey what it is he wants to communicate. “We’re more than just dating. At least to me. No one’s ever been in my corner like you, and.. I don’t just look at you in a physical manner, I.. I look over my shoulder for you when I see something stupid or fun, because I want to share everything with you. I know it’s been rocky at times, but..” He clears his throat. You see tears well in his eyes and you just smile, your hand detaching from his to wipe a tear that runs down his face.

“I know.” You say softly, and he smiles.

“I don’t need sex to love you.” He tells you. He kisses you gently and asks, “Don’t feel like that’s ever something I need, okay, spitfire?”

“Okay, Claws.”

//i don't know what else to say about this other than i know i write smut often and graphically but i am in fact asexual, so i wanted to throw my hat in the ring for writing not only a queer reader but a reader who is asexual. you deserve a place in fanfiction too. also, readers description of asexuality is based off my own, so please remember that asexuality isn't a one size fits all thing.

[lovebugism]

hi hello angel! i have a prompt request <3 “it’s nine in the morning, are you seriously already in swimming trunks?” with steve x punchy... i imagine some cute scenes by steve's pool, maybe some sm*t maybe not dealers choice ! i just love those two sweethearts

thanks so much for your request! and for giving me the opportunity to write more punchy x steve!! hope you like it!! — the one where steve buys his summer hating gf a bathing suit (1.9k)

bug's summer fic fest ♡

No parents. Big house. The perfect concoction for you and Steve to play Old Married Couple whenever work permitted it. 

He closed at Family Video the day before while you slaved over a fourteen-hour shift — just so you could have the weekend off together. The aching bones, tired feet, and frustration-induced migraine were worth it, though. Because it meant waking up in the arms of your boyfriend without either of you having to be in a rush come sunrise.

And even though you remember falling asleep with Steve’s arm wound tightly around your waist — because you spent a good five minutes arguing about the way his palm laid on the pudge of your stomach — you wake up with the boy nowhere to be found.

You rouse before you’re ready to that morning, freezing without the furnace of Steve Harrington and furry chest holding you. You curl beneath his plaid sheets and bury your face into his navy blue pillow. The lingering scent of his musky cologne and floral shampoo does little to quell your yearning.

You decide to go on the hunt for the lost boy.

Still in your pajamas from the night before — a wrinkled Hellfire shirt, a rather modest pair of cotton underwear, and smudged makeup you were too tired to take off the night before — you trek through the empty Harrington household.

“Stevie?” you call for him. Your only answer is an eerie silence. You try again. “Steve?”

He’s not in the bathroom or the upstairs den. He’s not in the living room downstairs, either, or in the adjacent kitchen. He’s quite literally nowhere, and the feeling of affirmed loneliness settles like a brick in the pit of your empty stomach.

Turns out, No Parents, Big House was only fun when Steve was there to share it with you.

You convince yourself he’s probably out getting breakfast for the both of you and didn’t want to wake you up before he left — because he’s way too sweet for his own good. So you decide to busy yourself in wait for him. You pour yourself a coffee from the bubbling machine, sloshing the heady brown liquid into a Snoopy mug you found in the back of the cabinet.

The sliding glass door a little ways behind you whirs violently when it’s opened with a too aggressive hand. The sound of it makes your heart lurch with fleeting panic. Your head whips over your shoulder in the direction of the sound. Drops of coffee spill onto the marble countertop as you flinch.

Steve enters the house then, wearing nothing but a pair of red shorts and black sunglasses — his lean torso and accompanying umber chest hair totally on display. He’s beaming like the yellow sun outside at the sight of you. His honey eyes twinkle with mirth as his hand pushes his RayBans to the top of his messy hair. 

“Oh. Hey, babe,” the boy greets with a tightlipped grin as he shuts the glass door behind him.

With one hand on your racing heart, you shove the coffee pot back into place. “Where were you— It’s nine in the morning, Steve! Why the hell are you already in swimming trunks?”

Steve’s gotten used to how loudly you speak sometimes. It’s usually when you’re happy, sometimes when you’re angry, and on the rarer occasion that something’s frightened you. He likes when you’re enthusiastic and talking his ear off, though, because he hates when you get quiet.

If loudmouth, glittering, sunshine-coated Punchy is ever not talking, something very, very bad has happened.

“In my defense, I’ve been up since seven, alright?” Steve contends, laughing softly to himself. As he walks further into the kitchen, you see he’s adorned his outfit with a pair of rubber sandals. They flip-flop, flip-flop against the tile with every stride. “I went for a run, took a shower, got you coffee—”

He motions to the cardboard cups sitting side by side on the island countertop. The former has been relieved from its lid and most of the sugary content inside. The latter is still intently covered in attempts to keep it warm. In your fleeting alarm and distant heartache, your eyes completely missed them.

“Oh…” you hum quietly in response, still clutching the warm Snoopy mug in your cold hands. “Thank you…”

You walk the short distance to the kitchen island and set the ceramic cup on the counter. You pop the lid off the lukewarm coffee — already adorned with your usual two creams, three sugars combo. You pour the liquid into the mug until it’s filled to the very brim. Steve watches with a distant smile as you take a careful sip from it, mindful not to spill it.

“And since it’s such a nice day outside, I wanted to get a jump on it and head out there,” the boy continues with a shrug. He leans his head to his freckled shoulder as he grins down at you. “I was waiting for you to wake up so I could spend it with you…”

You mirror his too cute posture, tilting your own head and peering up at him through your lashes. Bits of mascara are still smudged around your eyes as you blink up at him. “Well, that’s very sweet of you, Stevie.”

He wraps you in his arms, two golden limbs winding around your waist. Your shoulder presses into the center of his bare chest when he pulls you into him.

He watches you take another slow sip of your milky brown coffee — always so attentive in the way he gazes at you, like he’s checking to make sure you’re okay. You don’t make a face like it’s burned you or like he’s gotten you the wrong order, so he smiles. 

“Go get your swimsuit on, alright? We’re poolin’ all day today, babe.”

“Ew, no. Gross,” you grumble, shrugging your shoulder as you halfheartedly writhe in his arms. “I wasn’t made to be outside, okay? I am not a creature of sunshine, Steven.”

His pink lips jut softly out as his brows furrow. “Hm. That’s weird. ‘Cause you’re my sunshine.”

Your nose scrunches up at him, obviously discontent with his compliment.

The look makes him grin. “Exactly,” he coos before leaning down to kiss the tip of your rumpled nose.

“I don’t even have a bathing suit here! Or, like, at all.”

“I bought you one,” Steve shrugs.

You squint at him. “No, you didn’t…”

“Yes, I did,” he singsongs. “It’s in the dresser with my swim trunks. The—”

“Bottom drawer,” you finish for him, still a bit monotoned with contempt.

It makes the two of you grin like a couple of lovesick idiots. There was hardly anything more domestic than knowing how someone organizes their wardrobe — sharing a part of it with them even more so. But the gooey, warm, marshmallow fluff thought is swiftly eclipsed by your distant disdain for the bathing suit he bought you.

It’s not even that it’s ugly or anything, because it’s actually quite cute. It’s made even cuter by the idea that your pretty boy got it for you — that he saw it and thought of you because he loves you. But it goes against everything in your personal Punchy Doctrine. 

You never really learned how to swim, and the sun is your arch nemesis in the summertime — because your pretty all-black outfits do not fare well in the heat. You hate bikinis even more. Mostly because you feel like they’re a direct result of the patriarchal male gaze and your body is nothing if not a symbol of protest.

But you do love Steve. And Steve isn’t like the assholes that used to ogle at you in your swimsuit or sneer at you for not having a flat stomach.

Steve loved you, and you loved him back, so you decide to humor him and wear it despite everything that tells you not to.

“Ooh,” the boy singsongs when you walk through the sliding glass door. He’s already sprawled out on one of the lounge chairs beside the glittering blue pool. He’s tossed a towel over the one beside him for you and preemptively dragged it several inches closer. You laugh as he announces to no one, “Look how pretty my girlfriend is!”

“Shut up,” you grouse and shut the door behind you.

The early morning heat is tolerable, but still all consuming. The humidity sticks to your bare skin with an inescapable grip as the sun pierces every inch of you it can touch. You’re already mourning the cold of Steve’s house. Not a creature of sunshine, indeed.

“Do you like it?” he asks, squinting at you through his sunglasses.

You cross your arms as you peer down at him. “Do you want me to answer that honestly or…?”

“It’s perfect for you! What do you mean?” Steve argues, his voice several octaves higher as he rises from his seat. He swings his legs off the side of it and uses his glasses to push back his wild honey hair. His hands gesticulate wildly as he continues. “It’s black — which I know is your favorite color — and it’s got spiderwebs on it because I know you’re into… spiders, and… weird stuff…”

“And what about the cutouts on the side, huh?” you tease in a lilt. “What’s that for?”

A boyish grin tugs at Steve’s pink mouth as his eyes flit to your hips. The high-waisted bottoms are slatted along the sides to reveal large sections of your skin. Your hips pokes out beneath them, not quite as slim as the designer intended. You wear your pudge with pride anyway, especially with the way Steve looks at you. His eyes twinkle with lust and adoration and sunshine.

“That was just a little treat for me,” the boy confesses with an innocuous shrug.

You scoff. “Right.”

“Well… for what it’s worth… I think you look really pretty, Punchy.”

You meet his sincere glimmer with a beam. Your eyes trail over his muscular form, marveling silently at the way his chest glitters golden beneath the sun and how his trunks bunch up to reveal more of his thighs.

For a second, you can’t believe he’s yours — that Punchy ended up with Steve The Hair Harrington. But then you realize that he is yours, and that you can kiss him silly because you’re his, too.

“You look really pretty, too, Stevie,” you gush as you launch yourself into his lap, a bit more aggressively than you intended to.

He huffs at your sudden weight, but hugs you back when your arms wrap around his neck. He eases the both of you back into the lounge chair, with you resting most of your weight on top of him.

“You plan on staying like this all day, babe?” he asks, laughing and hoping you’ll say yes.

“Yep,” you affirm before the words leave his mouth, half-muffled because you’re talking into his neck.

“Even if it gets too hot?”

“Especially if it gets too hot,” you joke. You pull back from him slightly to find the boy smiling at you, one eye squinted shut to hide from the sun. You beam back at him, brighter. “You’re too sexy not to hang on to, Steve Harrington. I don’t think I can let you go.”

“Good,” Steve hums back. His fingers squeeze the sides of your hips, warm and reassuring. “I don’t think I want you to me go.”

[melrodrigo]

Tardy, part 2

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11

Tara Carpenter x F!Reader

Summary: You find out about another side of Tara’s life, and she couldn’t be more grateful for the way you react.

Warnings: Nothing? It’s just like….a lot of fluff, a little speck of mention of violence.

Word Count: 3.3k

A/N: As promised, here’s the next Tardy chapter! I hope you like it, don’t forget to tell me what else you want to see!

You’ve learned so much about Tara in the last 20 minutes that your head starts to hurt.

You hold up a hand, “Wait wait wait, so you guys are telling me you were involved in a massacre back in whatever town, and the killer turned out to be one of your best friends who tried to kill you because of a movie?”

The group in front of you nods almost in unison. You’re struck with the realization that they’re all strangers to you, having never talked to a single one of them in your life.

Well, that was a lie; you had talked to Anika before. You’ve seen Mindy a couple of times because of that, but you were nowhere near close enough to be considered ‘friend’ material.

When you and Tara had arrived in the living room, they had all but jumped out of their seats, eyeing you with the same hard glare Sam did.

Tara glances at you, afraid to see that all the information might’ve scarred you and ruined your friendship forever, but the only thing she sees is frustration in your eyes.

One hand on your hip, the other playing with your bottom lip; a habit you did when you were frustrated Tara had learned.

“And this killer guy is back? He wants to…get you again?“ You ask no one in particular, but get a firm nod in confirmation from Sam.

You suddenly feel a little winded.

“Okay. Okaayy…I’m just going to sit down for a while. Tara, would you show me where your room is?”

Cries of protest are already sounding from Sam and Chad, but Tara silences them with a hard look before they can utter a word.

Tara takes you by the hand and leads you to her room. Under different circumstances, the feel of her hand against yours would make you elated.

You lay down across her bed, wiping at your face with your hands, hoping it’ll relieve some of the stress you’re feeling.

You feel Tara lay down next to you but doesn’t make a move to get any closer.

“So do you hate me now?” She asks, voice quiet and unsure.

Your eyes shoot open, and you quickly tilt your head to her.

“No of course not Tara,” You begin, speaking slowly as to gather your thoughts. “I just..I can’t believe that all happened to you. Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve helped, I would’ve tried.”

Your tone isn’t pressing, more gentle. You’re not mad at her for hiding this part of her life from you, just devastated to know she’d been struggling with it all along.

She looks as though she might cry, nose scrunched and breathing heavy.

“And you got stabbed like what, seven times?” You ask, voice quiet. All she does is nod solemnly, and it makes your heart sink in despair.

You immediately pull her towards you, hands wrapping around her waist, and she buries her face in the crook of your neck.

“I’m sorry.” You mummer against her hair, holding tight.

You think you hear a sniff before she answers again, “It’s not your fault, you have nothing to be sorry about.”

You hum, and you know she’s right.

It’s unusual to see Tara so vulnerable. In the time you’ve known each other, she was all cocky smiles and quick comebacks.

It’s such an out-of-body experience to realize she struggles with things too. It’s a weird thing to think about, but it only makes you like her more.

You think back to the beginning of the night.

Tara had said something about ‘him’ seeing you walk up the stairs, and a shiver sends up your spine.

As if she can hear your thoughts, Tara starts talking against your neck, pushing just slightly away so she can speak clearly.

“YN? You know that this means…you’re in it too right? You’re in the movie.”

It’s too late now for anything to surprise you, so you stay quiet.

“I’m sorry I dragged you into this. Unwillingly, might I add.” She whispers.

You smile a little, “As long as I’m being hunted with you i’ll be fine.”

At that, Tara pulls back, faking gagging. You roll your eyes, but you can’t stop the smile from breaking now.

“Come on Tara! I was trying to have a moment with you. Do you always have to ruin it?” You tease playfully, wrapping her back in your arms.

“So we were having a moment?” She huffs but doesn’t make a move to pull away from your arms.

“You should stay here tonight. You shouldn’t go back to your room, I don’t want you getting hurt.” She continues, and your heart swells at the fact that she cares.

“Okay, Tara. I’ll stay.”

-

The stares you get in the morning when you enter the living room in nothing but Tara’s oversized shirt are piercing.

Sam isn’t there, you notice, but almost everybody else is.

You make your cereal in uncomfortable silence for a while, before a voice sounds from behind you.

“So are you and Tara hooking up or something?” Chad asks, and if you didn’t know any better you’d say he sounds jealous.

I wish we were, is what you want to say. You think better of it.

“Yep, we definitely are.” Tara says as she strides in, grabbing the same cereal box and smirking at you.

Your heart jumps out of your chest when you see she’s wearing your hoodie. It almost engulfs her, painting the most adorable image in front of you.

Your cheeks flush red, and you manage to stutter out a “No, no we’re not.”

Chad stares, eyes flicking between the two of you trying to uncover the truth.

You glare at Tara until she relents, “Jeez. Relax, okay? YN and I are not hooking up.”

He seems to take that as enough of an answer and turns his attention back to the group.

You nudge Tara with your body slightly and whisper to her.

“I think he might like you.” You try to sound nonchalant, but your tone betrays you. Tara’s still smirking as she looks up at you.

“You think?” And your heart drops a little at the sight of hope in her eyes.

You smile, a little sad. Hope it’s not too obvious to her.

“Yeah.” You say, soft.

She gestures for you to follow her as she pushes herself off the dining table, “Come on, let’s go plan.”

-

It’s later that night that your uneasiness turns into downright turmoil.

Tara has done nothing but stick to Chad’s side the whole day, you not getting a second alone with her since the morning.

It’s starting to show in your mood, all shrugs and huffs whenever someone tries to talk to you.

You snap out of your thoughts when you hear yet another giggle erupt from Tara’s mouth.

The group had decided to have a rom-com movie marathon, and Chad swooped in right before you were making your way to sit next to her.

Asshole.

You feel the spot next to you sink down, and you turn to see Anika. You send her a small smile.

Anika had always been a nice girl, and you two had spoken the most out of everyone in the group. You’d met at a party one night, bumping into each other funnily enough.

“You know she’s only doing it to make you jealous right?“ She asks discreetly, eyes still trained on the tv.

Your eyebrows furrow.

“What are you talking about?”

She turns to you now and gives you a look. Like she can’t believe you’re asking that.

“That whole thing. Tara and Chad. Trust me, she doesn’t like him.” She says, “Chad’s asked her out a million times, Tara just isn’t interested.”

It’s a little pathetic how much better you feel immediately. At least Tara wasn’t going to date him.

Anika leans in closer and whispers to you.

“Plus, she told me she has a crush on someone.” She wiggles her pointer finger at you, and you let out a scoff.

“Me? You’re out of your mind. Tara doesn’t like me.” Your voice sounds high, squeaky.

“Oh really? Then how do you explain this?”

Anika leans forward, way too close for comfort, and places a hand on your arm.

“Don’t move.” She whispers in your ear, and your eyes dart to Mindy, trying to urge her to come take a look at her girlfriend.

But when you lock eyes with Mindy, all she does is smile.

“What are you doing?” You whisper, hurriedly. Anika laughs, a little loud, and lays her head on your shoulder.

“You’re so funny.” She giggles.

At that, Tara gets up from her seat abruptly and walks over. Your head snaps to her.

“Let’s switch places ‘Nika.” She smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

She has a staring contest with Anika for a while before eventually winning.

You catch Anika sending you a wink as she flops onto Mindy’s lap. They immediately cuddle into each other, disregarding whatever just happened.

Tara’s beside you in a second, arms crossed as she “watches” the movie.

“What was that, Tar?”

Her shoulders sag, releasing the stress she didn’t know she had in there.

“I…I don’t know.” She mumbles, voice quiet.

You’re not sure what to do now, so you slip your hand into hers, rubbing the back of it for comfort.

You both don’t say anything for the rest of the movie, and your hands never leave each other’s.

Even when the movie stops playing and everyone’s gone to their rooms, you guys stay.

Tara’s fast asleep against you, but your mind runs a million miles per second. Could Tara really like you?

You lay there, staring at the ceiling in turbulence. If Tara really did like you, you wouldn’t want to waste your chance right?

She could easily change her mind, and she was being hunted by a psychopathic killer; so it was frankly now or never.

You look over and stare at Tara. Actually look at her. You’re so close you can count the freckles on her face, and you almost gasp as you take in her beauty again. She truly was such a gorgeous, gorgeous girl.

Okay, I think I’m going to tell her soon.

It takes a long time, but you finally snooze off with Tara, hands intertwined, ghosts of a smile on your faces as you sleep.

-

That ‘soon’ comes a week later. You’re allowed by Tara to go back to your house, gather clothes and supplies; but she still insists you stay over and sleep with her.

You don’t bother to mention how she doesn’t force anyone else to stay.

You’ve formulated a plan these past few days, and today was it. Today’s the day Tara finds out how you feel.

You’re so nervous that your body’s in a slight shake constantly.

Damnit nerves!

You’d never been a shy one with girls and usually would have no problem pursing them; but Tara was different.

In what way you couldn’t quite grasp into words, but the way you revel in her beauty or have to bite back a smile when she talks is proof enough.

It’s night again, and the stars are shining almost as bright as your eyes. You’ve set up a tiny fort on the roof of Sam and Tara’s apartment, laptop set up, ‘10 Things I Hate About You’ ready to play.

You manage to sneak pillows and blankets up onto the roof unnoticed, only passing Anika who gives you a smirk and a thumbs up.

No, that pillow needs to fluff a little more.

You hit the pillow lightly, puffing it up. When you’re done you stand back, hands on your hips; admiring your handiwork.

“This is it.” You mumble, as a sort of reassurance to yourself before you ascend down into their apartment.

The gang is sitting in a semi-circle around the tv, watching a movie.

Man, they watch a ton of movies.

You’ve grown to like each one of them in the past week. They could be annoying yes, but they all have their own charm.

Even Chad, you unwillingly admit.

You arrive at Tara’s side and nudge her slightly.

“Do you guys mind if I steal Tara for a bit?” You ask, but you don’t really care if they say no.

“Absolutely n-“ Sam starts, but you cut in before she can finish her sentence.

“Just for a little while, Sam.” You mumble, emptying your pockets, trying to show her you’re equipped with nothing but immense anxiety.

Sam looks like she’s about to protest again, but Tara stands up and grabs your hand tight.

“Yes of course you can YN.” She says in Sam’s direction, eyes hard, mouth slightly downturned.

You lead her away from the group, whisper to her that you have a surprise.

As you walk up the stairs, you listen to Tara complain about her problems with Sam.

“I mean, it’s like why can’t she leave me alone? I’m 20, I can make my own decisions! I’m an adult. She disappears for five years and then randomly pops back into my life, and she can’t even leave me alone for 5 seconds?”

You hum, let her get it out of her system.

“God, it’s just…so annoying. And I know she’s doing it out of love, but jesus christ I wish she’d just-“

You open the door to the roof, and Tara stops instantaneously. She lets out a choked sort of noise, a sigh mixed with a gasp.

“I know these past few days have been a pain in your ass,” You start, wrapping your hands around her waist from behind. You smirk when she has to bite back another gasp. “and we haven’t had a single minute alone since that night.”

She turns in your arms, smiling wide. Her eyes flick down to your lips for a millisecond.

When you think she’s going to lean in and you won’t even have to ask her to be your girlfriend, she pulls away.

Then within the next second, she’s sprinting toward your homemade fort and crashing into the pillows.

Her eyes are wide and full of excitement when she looks up at you, “So? You gonna come watch this with me or are you gonna stand there looking stupid?”

It suddenly all feels very real, and the anxiety comes flowing back. You obey and sit down on the spot next to her, rigid.

You guys start the movie, side by side, popcorn that you made 10 minutes prior still nice and hot.

It’s halfway through the movie and you still can’t seem to utter a single word. What do you even say?

‘Hey Tara, I like you. I’ve liked you for an extraordinarily long time, will you go out with me?’

You purse your lips, think of a better way to express your feelings.

“Hey, um…is everything okay with you by the way?” Tara asks suddenly, making you jump slightly.

You nod, unconvincingly. And Tara sees right through it, you can tell when she presses further.

“It’s just that, you’ve been looking so on edge today. Every time someone mentions my name you almost jump out of your seat.” Tara’s frowning a bit now, words spilling out of her like she’s been keeping them in too long.

“Did I do something? Are we…you know, okay?”

You take a deep breath. Try to gather the courage.

“Tara.” You begin, cursing yourself as you feel your hands start shaking, quite violently.

“YN? Are you alright?” She grabs your hand and intertwines it with hers. It relaxes you a bit.

“Tara, I’m not sure how to tell you this, so I’m just going to come out and say it. I really like you, and I was wondering if you maybe wanted to go on a date with me. Obviously it doesn’t have to be now, with like Ghostface and all. But I feel like I should tell you now because-“

Tara doesn’t let you finish your confession, because she’s already pressing her lips to yours in a fierce kiss.

It’s so much better than you imagined. Her lips are soft, so soft against yours. You want to melt into a little puddle and never recover. They fit like puzzle pieces, and it makes you wonder why you haven’t done this earlier.

You sigh against her, but continue talking. You had a whole speech planned after all, why waste it?

“Because what if I die or you die during this whole fiasco? Not that I’m saying I think you’re going to die I just meant logistically-“ You get cut off once again, a pair of lips silencing yours.

“Oh my god, just shut up.” She whispers against them. You decide to let her win just this once and kiss her back, smiling wide.

When you pull away; rather unwillingly you see Tara looking flushed, grinning at you from ear to ear. You’re pretty sure you look the exact same.

You press your forehead to hers. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

“What a corny line.” Is all she says before pulling you by the neck and connecting your lips once again. The movie sounds muffled now, merely background music at this point.

“So would you want to go out on a date with me? Like a real one?” You ask, in between heated kisses.

The look on Tara’s face is incredulous.

“I just made out with you for five minutes and you’re asking me if I want to go on a date with you?”

You smile sheepishly, ”Well yeah. I just wanted to make sure you’re comfortable and stuff.” You fiddle with the tips of your fingers as you say the last part, feeling shy.

Tara sighs and tilts your face back up to hers, “If I haven’t made it clear enough, yes. I would like to go on a date with your dumb ass.”

You’re about to surge forward and take her lips between yours for the hundredth time when you hear a scream.

You and Tara both perk up, stilling immediately. You crane your head to the side, ears straining to hear anything.

It’s dead silent, until a loud thud sounds, and then you hear the unmistakable sound of Mindy cursing.

Your head snaps to Tara, eyes wide, silently asking her if she’s hearing the same thing you are.

Tara doesn’t leave any time to dwell on it like you do, she jumps up and runs to the door in a hurry. She’s fumbling with the doorknob a bit, hands moving too fast.

“Come on. Come on! It’s stuck, YN help!”

She gestures for you to move, and you’re snapped out of your daze.

He’s here. Ghostface is genuinely here.

You try the knob, it’s stuck. There’s not many more options, so you do the first thing that comes to mind.

You run back and slam yourself against the door. It hurts like shit, but it opens. Your mind are on your friends now, hoping and praying that they’re okay.

“Well, that hurt like crap.” Is what you say to Tara, trying to sound lighthearted.

You turn to her, and Tara’s face is so pale and sweaty it takes you aback. She’s looking straight at you, but her eyes are full of fear.

“YN. Move right now!” She grabs for you and spins you around so you’re face to face with the stairs.

And that’s when you see it.

A guy in a ghostface robe is staring back at you, and the eyes on the costume are so menacing and malicious in real life it takes you by surprise.

He’s standing right where you were, lingering on the top step.

He tilts his head like he’s taunting you. There’s a red light flickering beside his headpiece, and you piece together that it’s his voice changer.

It feels like an eternity before he speaks.

“Hello, Tara.”

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

The brothers reaction to F!mc being stuck in a wall classic trope it can be nsfw If you want

Stuck in a Wall | Yandere Obey Me

If by brothers you mean the seven in Obey Me then they would love it. So much happens at the house of lamentation that it's only a given that at some point you end up stuck in the wall: your bottom exposed and your flailing hands as you frantically implore your demons to help you. Now whether they actually listen is up to them but it's a given that they all most certainly enjoy it:

Lucifer

“....Mammon?”

“Mammon.”

He’ll tiredly hold the bridge of his nose before moving his hands to release you

But he stops

Letting a coy smile spread across his face as he imagines actually using a spell to see you’re relieved face turns into confusion

“Luci?”

“...Now I don’t have to release you just yet. Heck, I might just let you serve your punishment for joining that idiot.”

“W-what?!”

“Of course, I’ll release you after.”

Better hope you haven’t incurred his wrath previously 

Because even without a clear connection to why this has happened to you he’s chuckling 

He’s generally tame if your rapport is good

Pinching the fat of your waist, your thigh

But if you’ve been particularly naughty he’s letting his hand come down on your unattended behind 

holding your legs so that your kicking does nothing to thwart him

Granted a punishment is given if you’ve been too busy running around with his other brothers

Or actively participating in the Anti-lucifer League’s schemes

Or taking his brother’s sides when they’re being particularly unbearable

It's the least you can do for him

Reminding you who owns you

“Don’t bother struggling now. Taking your punishment is the least you can do after letting everyone but me keep you close.”

Mammon 

“A random butt sticking out of the wall! What do I do? Do I smack it or–”

“Mammon! If you smack me, so help me–”

“Oh- it talks!?”

“Mammon!”

Because he’s Mammon it takes a while before he puts two and two together

But when he finally does

He’s torn between giving into his mischievous side and his immense desire to please you

“Come on, Mammon i just need you to pull me out.”

“Pull…?”

“Yeah grab my waist and pull me out that’s all you have to do.”

“...Your waist….”

“Uhhh Mammon are you okay?”

He’s burning up 

He already knew that every part of you was beautiful but now he’s remembered just how beautiful

Even split in half you’re the sexiest in his whole world

Now how can he let up a chance to touch you now

But it's all up to how well you’ve kept him your dog fed

Have you pushed past his fake+ protests to sit with him while he gambled his earnings away

Or wearing the jewelry he bought

Or rewarding him for being the loyal dog that he is

Otherwise, he’ll have to collect your debt with building interest

“Other than your arms…you can’t really stop me from kissin’ ya anyway right?”

Leviathan

“Ahahahaha, this is–ha–just like that one anime! Now you’re helpless Ruri-chan as I steal the magic fauna.”

“Levi! Just get me out, please.”

“And give up a prime lucky-leecher moment? I’m no fool!”

He’s all talk now 

Because he can’t see you’re angry face

Only your defenseless rump is perfectly defensive as you exhaustingly kick your legs

You can’t see the insane blush on his face 

Or the camera flashes+

“Y-you probably don’t want a disgusting otaku to be your savior, right? So it’s best if I just stay here–”

“Noo…wait Levi…please? Can you be…my hero? A passing adventurer’s side quest…w-will y-you help a fellow adventurer out?”

“Hahaha with a romance benefit and experience points?!”

“...Fine.”

He either wants to chicken out or idly fantasize about your predicament

You have to play his game 

Granted you’ll have to take a few liberties giving him a minute or two free range

“Here I come! With a hero’s reward on the line!”

Satan

“Oh my, what have we here?”

One of the worst 

He’s most aware of what he could get away with at this moment

And he’s going to play as coy as he likes for as long as he wants

You’re helpless prey and he’s pouncing

“Well well, what is a bodiless butt sticking out of the wall?”

“Please Satan I got stuck and–”

“It’s a shame I have no idea where the mouth is to it but it most certainly has a nice shape.”

“Satan! Please! I know you can hear me! Ah~!”

“Fits so nicely in my hands.”

You’re going to barter 

And that’s what he’s counting on

Not only will he be getting to feel you in places

But whatever you have to offer will be wonderful to call for whenever he feels peckish 

Or wants to piss Lucifer off

And if you’re not offering anything of value he wins just as much

“Well if I just stick the end of this cattail in here, we can have ourselves a grand old time.”

Asmodeus

“Ahhh~just for me (Y/n)-baby!”

“What!? No! No!”

The absolute worst to find you like this

He can’t be bartered with, fought off, or tricked

He’s going to have you 

After all, you’re practically giving yourself to himself

“Awww stop struggling baby~it’ll feel great~!”

“No! Asmo stop! Put back on my–ah~!”

“Seee?! Didn’t I say?!”

Nothing’s stopping him from hammering+ bothering both stuck sides of your person

You’re mild frantic attempts to stop him are simply cute demonstrations of your nervousness

But let him wash it all away 

“No worries darling! When we’re done we can have one last sesh in the bath m’kay.”

Beelzebub

“That butt looks a lot like (Yn)’s…”

It is sheer luck that he looks up from whatever he’s eating to notice you

He’ll stand there debating if he wants to get involved

And even when you call out to him

He’s quickly finishing his food before actually coming over

“Beel! Get me out of here!” 

“Hmmm?”

“Beel stop eating and get me out!” 

“Mmm okay.”

Don’t expect him to let you run off now that he’s holding you by the waist

He remembers how much smaller you are to him

And whens the next time he’s going to be able to take you to him and Belphie’s room before someone runs off with you

“Hey, have you eaten yet?”

Belphegor

“Ah there you are I was looking for you.”

This is going to be quick and easy…

If everything’s alright

If he’s not being moody, stressed out, tired, mildly irritated

You’ll be fine

But if not he’ll have so much pent-up energy there can be only one way to release it

“B-belphie a-are you okay?”

“Oh I will be. So just stay still.”

“Wait hold on-”

“Shhh I’ll be quick.”

He means it

This is just to get started 

The beginning of affection is long overdue

‘Why do you have to be with everyone but me!’ 

‘Just because I’m sleeping it doesn’t mean I don’t want you near’+

“We can continue in bed I’m tired of standing here.”

[toorusluvr]

❥ ҉   CHAPTER SEVEN - BACK IN THE GROOVE

❥ ҉ CONTENT WARNINGS: mentions of reader having anxiety in earlier paragraphs + smut in chapter + penetration sex + p in v + protected sex

❥ ҉ NOTE FROM NIS: hello it's me again omg it's been so long since the last update i truly apologise for the late updates! i'm trying my best to finally finish this series! anyway, enjoy chapter 7! i felt like i have forgotten how to write good lord please bear with me.... as usual, reblogs, likes, and comments are very very much appreciated! <3

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After you have been discharged from the hospital, nothing has really changed. Everything feels numb, and you can’t feel any emotions at all. Literally. It always feels like life is on loop. You go to school, eat, cry yourself to sleep, and repeat. Your eyes are begging you to stop crying but you just… couldn’t . 

Iwaizumi witnessed you being trapped in your soulless body. Sometimes you just spaced out with no expressions at all. It’s heartbreaking to see you this way because it reminds him so much of himself, which is why he doesn’t want you to be this way for any longer. Breakups happen every time but the post-breakup? It’s like your entire soul is being tortured. He does not know how he can console you because he himself was struggling for a long time until he realized that his life didn’t end when his relationship was over. 

Sure, some people would say high school relationships don’t matter but to him, it was the first time he discovered that he is indeed capable of loving someone. But the grief of losing them afterwards… Iwaizumi was almost sure he didn’t want to fall in love again if it hurt this bad. 

Iwaizumi would say he has moved on from his ex-girlfriend. To be saying he didn’t feel any ounce of hurt after finding out that Semi cheated on you with his ex, that would be a big slap to the face. Fuck it, he was deeply offended and hurt at the same time. If anything, he’d be sure to destroy the man in the face for cheating. Semi and his ex-girlfriend – God knows what business do they have with each other, can go to fucking hell for cheating. Iwaizumi did not want to play the victim here, shit– he was indeed a victim, but his ex-girlfriend went out of her way to cheat with multiple guys while they were in a relationship. In the end, Iwaizumi would still take her back because he has always thought every relationship has its ups and downs. That was solely his mistake for being so naive. 

You stared at the blank blackboard in front of the class, not hearing Oikawa and Iwaizumi have been calling your name several times. Then, you felt a hard smack on your shoulder, snapping into reality. “OW!” you groaned in pain. You looked over to your right side, where you could see Oikawa was fuming mad (well, not really) while glaring at you.

“We’ve been calling your name for the past few minutes,” Oikawa enunciated the last three words. You could sense he was a bit annoyed that you didn’t hear him calling. His expression proved it all. It’s not exactly that he could hide his expressions well. He just loves being dramatic sometimes. 

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” you cleared your throat as you turned your body to face him. 

Oikawa rolled his eyes at you, “Iwa-chan was asking you if you wanted to be his partner for the project. I am teamed up with someone else because we did our last project together. Iwa did it solo but this project needs to be a pair work. Can you partner up with him?” 

You looked at Iwaizumi, who was sitting behind both of you in class. He raised his eyebrows at you, waiting for your answer. A glimpse of his tan skin and the luscious lips… wait . Hooking up with him is one thing and partnering up with him for a project is another. But what could hurt? Your soul is already damaged, anyway. This decision can go straight to your list of disappointments and regrets. 

“Sure, why not?” you answered with a smile. “You good if we start working on it after school, Iwa? I want to get it done as soon as possible. You don’t have to skip practice, just come to my house after practice ends. I’ll text you my address later.” 

“I was thinking of asking you that earlier. Sure, I’ll come to your house later,” Iwaizumi agreed with the plan you made. The earlier you get the project done, the better. He needs to focus on the assessments, the upcoming exam, and also the preliminary. The pressure he has on himself is crazy. But, people don’t always see that because he hides it so well. 

Oikawa wiggled his eyebrows at Iwaizumi, “Oh, alone times,” he sing-songed. Iwaizumi glared at him before he continued to work on the task given by your teacher. This dude never gives up on teasing both of you just because you guys were each other’s one night stand. He once told Oikawa to grow up because he was annoying him too much.  

“Go find someone to get laid, pretty boy,” you snickered at Oikawa and the last thing you saw before facing forward was his jaw dropped open at the comment you just made. 

After his practice ended, you waited for Iwaizumi in the living room when he texted he was almost there. The doorbell rang; it was none other than Iwaizumi himself. “Come in!” you said cheerfully, even though there was barely any energy left inside of you. You didn’t want to make Iwaizumi worried over your worsening mental state. He’d probably nag and call you stupid but hey, you’ve heard him called Oikawa worse. 

The raven-haired boy gave you a light smile once you opened the door for him. He was freshly dressed in a white t-shirt and black sweats. The outfits combination that makes every girl drool. 

“Is no one home?” Iwaizumi asked as he stepped into your house. He looked around your house and followed your steps to your room upstairs. It was his first time coming to your home and being in your bedroom. 

“I told you before that my mom is barely home at times like this. She'll be home late at night,” you answered while leading him to your room. You opened the door to your room and invited him in. He followed after you and his eyes did a quick scan of your bedroom. 

“Oh, I forgot about that. Send my regards to your mom when she's home soon,” Iwaizumi said.

You let out a soft chuckle and nodded to his request. Both of you started working on the project, laying out all the outlines and possible drafts. You divided the tasks that needed to be done fairly between Iwaizumi and you. Iwaizumi contributed the ideas and points needed for the project. Both of you had a discussion over it for almost an hour when your stomach suddenly made a loud noise. You glanced up to see Iwaizumi was already staring back at you. 

Iwaizumi raised a lone brow at the sound. “Hungry there, princess?” 

Princess . Never thought you’d get butterflies being called that. What a funny thing. Though his tone showed mockery but hell the butterflies were swarming until it left no room in your stomach. 

Iwaizumi caught the brief flustered expression that was all over your face. But you turned expressionless immediately. Huh . Good to know he is capable of making you flustered, then. 

“Let’s order some food. Are you okay with that?” You asked as you grabbed your phone beside you. Iwaizumi immediately said yes as he was hungry too. He didn’t have any time to grab any snacks right after practice ended. 

Both of you perused the online menu and soon the food will be delivered to your doorsteps. While waiting, you and Iwaizumi picked up where the project was left off – to wrap it up for the night before the food got here. 

When the food was finally delivered, you and Iwaizumi sat in your kitchen to dine in. You told Iwaizumi to make himself comfortable as he looked so awkward standing there. “Is it your first time being at a girl's house?” You let out a laugh as his expression turned sour. 

If there’s one thing that Iwaizumi dislikes, it is being accused of things. He HAS been to a girl’s house before. Yes, for hooking up and whatnot. But, not for having meals together, that’s for sure! 

“Not really. It just feels too domestic, no?” Iwaizumi replied in all honesty. He sat on the barstool and you slid a glass of water to the man. You paused to look at him briefly. Well, he got a point there! 

“Damn. You’re right. But hey, that’s what friends do too. So we’re good,” you retaliated with a downturned smile. Iwaizumi just let out a snicker to your response. Both of you then devoured your food because hunger took over your consciousness. 

He was not much of a talker at first but after practically forcing him to talk, he finally did. It wasn’t much because this man is indeed great at keeping his secrets to himself. You wondered if he told Oikawa enough about himself and his emotions when things get tough. Does Iwaizumi ever do that? Curiosity definitely gets the best of you sometimes but that’s another topic for another day. 

“It’s getting late. It would be best if you go home now. Your parents must be worried,” you yawned. You peeked over the clock hanging on your wall, and it’s almost 11 p.m. but your mother wasn’t home yet. 

“Yeah. I should go home. Hey, you should take a rest. You look tired. You okay?” Iwaizumi asked as he stood upright. He slung his backpack over his shoulders while looking at you, expecting your reply. 

You nodded, “I’m good. You don’t have to worry about it.” 

“Sure. I’m going home. Make sure you aren’t staying up too late,” Iwaizumi advised. He wasn’t sure of what he was feeling, but he had this instinct that you were hoping he would stay with you through the night. He didn’t want to seem like he’s a know-it-all – worse, a pushover so he chased his instincts away. 

“Take care, Iwa. See you tomorrow!” you bid goodbye as you watched him entering the cab that was waiting in front of your house. Iwaizumi paused as he grabbed the door handle of the cab, looking back at you. 

“See you tomorrow,” he said with a curt nod. You waved him goodbye and waited until the taxi took off. 

One thing about getting anxious is that it comes uninvited. Your anxiety came creeping in later that night. You laid on your bedroom floor helplessly, gasping for air to breathe normally. Your tears were streaming down your face non-stop while you tried to reach your phone to dial for anyone in case things went south. It felt like you went back and forth to hell while battling the anxiety alone. You wished you had asked Iwaizumi to stay with you earlier. But then he would find out your weak point and the fear of him using it against you was enough to snap you out of reality. Cynical or not, you are done with people using your weakness against you. 

About a week later, you and Iwaizumi promised to have another discussion. This time, he asked you to come to his house. You agreed to it without thinking any further because the deadline was getting closer! Iwaizumi wasn’t able to contribute over the weekend due to his volleyball practices. But, you covered his part and explained what he needed to do later on. He was super grateful for your understanding. 

“Wait a second. Shit , I forgot that I ran out of my sticky notes. Do you mind if we drop by the book store?” Iwaizumi stopped walking and your steps faltered as well. You looked up at him and nodded. 

“Yeah, sure. There’s the book store,” you said as you pointed a finger to the bookstore that has the navy blue signboard outside. It looks quite old but surely they have a lot of stuff there. 

Iwaizumi shook his head, “I need to go to the bookstore that I always go to. It’s like 15 minutes from here. Do you mind?” 

That’s one thing you didn’t see it coming. The Iwaizumi Hajime has a favorite bookstore? Surely his secret admirers would love this and go batshit crazy with the news. 

“You have a favorite bookstore?” You asked. Iwaizumi bit the inside of his cheek, “Yeah, is that a problem? What? I cannot have a favorite bookstore because I am not smart enough for you?”

His defensive reply definitely got you laughing, wait no , howling of laughter. You couldn’t believe that he gets so defensive over something so trivial! Surely everyone has their favorite bookstore. Having a favorite bookstore does not make you a nerd. If anything, it makes you look smart. And God knows that leaves a good impression. 

“Good God, do you need an exorcism?” Iwaizumi asked while rolling his eyes. Man, the last thing he needed today was you howling of laughter. It took a hit on his pride and yeah, he was offended a bit. 

Your laughter slowly faded away. Iwaizumi was still staring at you with that scowl that could leave a permanent mark on his beautiful face. “No, dude. You should have seen the look on your face when you got so defensive just now. Chill, man. I was just asking you a question. Did someone used to make fun of you or something? Geez, seek therapy then.” 

Iwaizumi heaved out a deep breath. You like to test his patience sometimes and God, he doesn’t need another friend to give him constant headaches. “Alright, I was at fault for getting too ‘defensive’ then,” he did an air quote with an annoyed expression. 

“Take a joke, babe,” you groaned and he put you in a headlock that had you gasping for air. Iwaizumi didn’t use much of his force and let go when you squealed, begging him to loosen the headlock. You quickly brushed your hair using your fingers, “Remind me to not piss you off because I almost died. I wonder how Oikawa is still alive when he’s getting headlocked by you at least 3 times a week!” 

“I don’t do it that often,” he said in the same defensive tone again. His eyebrows all scrunched, lips almost pouty. 

You furrowed your eyebrows, “ Really? ”

“I’ll leave you here if we don’t start moving in the next 3 seconds. I’m not joking,” Iwaizumi said determinedly. He once left Oikawa at a bus stop because he was taking too long to do his hair. He hated being stalled because he’s always punctual! Why can’t other people do the same?

“I’ll report you to the police for negligence,” you huffed a reply as you fell into his steps side-by-side. Iwaizumi snorted with laughter, “That was merely a threat, princess. Take a joke, babe .” 

He said the last line so casually while giving you a smirk. Damn him and that attractive as hell smirk because it could kill people! Damn him and damn the universe for trying to fuck you up with this weird feeling. 

You shook your head with an annoyed smirk, “I hope the bookstore is closed. You better hurry!” 

“Nah, not funny, princess. Let’s go,” he said as he dragged you with him. Thank goodness he didn’t run or sprint or else you’d have tripped on the pavements. 

Once you guys showed up in front of the bookstore, Iwaizumi didn’t waste any time and headed straight to the sticky notes section. He didn’t think twice about picking the sticky notes and some highlighters. You were off to the next aisle just to check out some books. Iwaizumi then appeared by your side. 

“You looking for anything?” Iwaizumi asked as his eyes carefully scanned the books shelves. 

You shook your head, “Nah. Let’s go if you’re done. It’s getting late.” 

Iwaizumi hummed and just when he turned his heels around, he saw two familiar individuals that he never expected to meet at all. At this place. Your gaze diverted to the same two familiar individuals when Iwaizumi stopped in his tracks. 

Just like a deer getting caught in headlights, the two individuals stopped talking to each other as well. 

Your heart dropped at the sight of the two people who ruined your life just a few weeks ago. Now that they’re here in front of you, you feel nothing but pure rage. Your eyes were locked on the ash blonde guy that gave you nothing but a stab in your heart. A 3-year relationship went down the drain just like that. He threw you away as if you were nothing to him. 

Semi looked at you for what felt like a minute and then he moved his gaze to the man next to you. The girl next to him had her eyes locked on Iwaizumi. Her ex boyfriend of 2 years. Your breathing became ragged and what felt like anxiety spreaded all over your system like it was a virus. 

You tried to control your breathing, kept your cool but fuck was it so hard to do even just that. Shit. Semi still has his power over you and you fucking hate it. This is not attraction or admiration. This is just pure hatred and disgust. Cheating was your final wake up call and no more tolerance over this son of a bitch! 

Overwhelming rage almost took over you and only the thoughts of being violent were playing at the back of your mind. Maybe Iwaizumi saw your clenched fists and the fact that you almost lurched at his ex-girlfriend, he instinctively held your hand in his. His touch woke you up from the violent vision from clouding your mind. 

You looked down at where his hand was holding yours. Slowly, you moved your gaze to meet his dark green orbs. His gaze showed genuine concern. “We’re better than that,” he whispered quietly. Your breath hitched. Right. You don’t like to resort to violence unless you really need to. 

“Huh, fancy meeting you here, Hajime,” the girl with the shoulder-length hair spoke up, arms to her chest as her eyes stared at the man next to you. Iwaizumi’s jaw ticked at the sound of his ex-girlfriend's voice. Well, it was once his favourite. Emphasis on once . Now it’s just this annoying noise that he is starting to despise so much. 

“New girlfriend?” The girl snickered when her gaze met yours. Iwaizumi might not want to start a fight or worse, a brawl or hair pulling, but you were so damn ready to punch this girl in her smug face. You do not know what kind of woman Iwaizumi is into, but this bitch was obviously nowhere in his league. Yes, she might have a pretty face but a nasty attitude mirrors her whole appearance. 

You were disgusted at the sight of her and your blood level rose tenfold when you saw Semi’s hand trying to pull her back. Semi shook his head slightly when she noticed his hand on her forearm. 

“As far as I’m concerned, who I am dating at the moment is none of your business,” Iwaizumi said – his voice stern, subtly indicating that both of you are currently dating. You didn’t oppose the idea. Amused, more like it. 

His ex-girlfriend stifled a laughter. “Impressive work, Hajime. I didn't peg you to enjoy someone’s leftover,” she mocked. 

Cheating with Semi is one thing but calling you as his leftover? This bitch knew how to push your buttons. Your eyebrows furrowed at her sudden insult. 

“Well, guess I shattered your expectations. Don't worry, I'll make sure to savour every last bite of something her ex will never get a taste of,” Iwaizumi glanced over you and pulled your waist closer to his side. 

You slowly smiled at both of them. “Pretty bold of you to make such an accusation. Hell, one thing that I know is that I sure as hell don’t go after someone else’s boyfriend. One of us is a fucking slut and Hajime, just between us , it is sure as hell ain’t me or you.” 

Her sinister smile slowly faded from her fucking smug face. 

“I don’t think so you need to go that far, Y/N,” Semi’s stern voice broke the temporary silence. Iwaizumi’s eyebrow furrowed in confusion. If anything, his ex-gf or Semi’s current gf or whatsoever started it first. He dared to spin it against you now? The audacity that some people have is unnerving! 

“You don’t get to talk, cheater,” you sighed loudly. “You know what? Both of you deserve each other. I truly hope both of you rot in hell happily ever after.”

You gripped on Iwaizumi’s wrist and made your way to the cashier. You stopped in your tracks when the girl had an iron grip on your other wrist. “Where do you think you are going?” 

Iwaizumi let out a sigh at her stubbornness. She is in for it and Iwaizumi knows too damn well you are not going to let this slide easily. How hard it must be for you to encounter these two people who kinda ruined your life in one day. For what it’s worth, Iwaizumi would love to see you destroy his ex-girlfriend. She deserves it. 

“Who the fuck do you think you are to touch me? Eita, I do not peg you as someone who enjoys fucking crazy girls,” you looked at the girl dead in the eyes before looking back at Semi. “Fucking touch me one more time and your pretty face will be covered in bruises next. Tell your pretty girlfriend to not cause herself any harm, will you?” 

You loosened her grip on your wrist and shoved her shoulder away from you. Iwaizumi gave the two people a once over and caught up with your pace. 

After Iwaizumi paid for his stuff at the cashier, he followed you out of the book shop. You pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed loudly. “Fucking damn it. They ruined my day again!” You said frustratedly. 

Iwaizumi examined your expression. Yeah, you were mad as hell now. He would be too if he was in your place. “You need to cool down first?” Iwaizumi asked. 

You turned to look at him with tears welling up in your eyes. “ Shit , I don’t know. Let’s just go to your house, okay? I’ll be fine,” you said as you patted him on the arm. Iwaizumi watched you step away from the book shop area. 

“Actually, we are going this way!” Iwaizumi raised his voice a bit and you cursed yourself for being too distracted. You immediately turned back and grabbed him in the arm. “Let’s go!” You said determinedly. Iwaizumi couldn’t help but laugh at your demeanour. 

The moment you arrived at Iwaizumi’s neighbourhood, your jaw dropped. The houses here are almost elite . You immediately turned to look at him, “You never told me that you are rich.” 

“I’m not rich,” Iwaizumi shrugged his shoulders. You eyed him suspiciously while following him from behind. He opened the door for you and the moment you stepped into his house, your jaw dropped again. His living room is huge and well-decorated! Surely his parents are loaded. 

“You’re rich, Iwa. Just admit it, man. Good lord, you have such a beautiful house!” You gushed– your eyes wandering around the living room area. Iwaizumi shook his head at your gushing and endless praises of how beautiful his house is. Well, it’s his parents’ house not his . 

Iwaizumi turned to look at you, “Done gushing? You need anything? Water? Snacks?” 

You shook your head. “Let’s get it started.” The earlier you can get it done, the better. 

Iwaizumi then showed you his room, where the discussion took place. He told you that his parents were working so they might come home later than expected. You were fine with it. Having Iwaizumi as your partner in this project is a blessing, you gotta admit. He is so fucking smart. Obviously, everyone has a thing for the smart guys. A bonus point, he looks very handsome as well. With the tan skin, the perfect height, athletic, everyone drools at the sight of him. Sometimes hilarious. Yeah. 

He had the upper hand of knowing the subject teacher so he knew what the teacher needed despite being given the question paper. It was like he read the teacher’s mind. You were impressed with his sharp observational skills. Even though he missed contributing some of the parts, he still managed to do everything quickly. A smart and athletic man? Yes, definitely a huge 10/10! 

“Why did you break up with your ex? What was her name again?” You broke the silence. Iwaizumi stopped twirling the pen with his fingers and shot you a puzzled look. 

He cleared his throat and sat upright. “Why did you ask?” 

You let out a soft sigh, “Just curious, that’s all. Mind telling me? Please ?” 

Iwaizumi’s interest was piqued. The way you added please at the end of your sentence did something to him. Something unrecognisable that made his stomach swirl . Huh. What a weird feeling. 

“You really want to know that bad, huh?” Iwaizumi asked again. 

You nodded as your eyes scanned the interior of his room. Like expected, his room is well-kept. Tidy and minimalistic from little to none decorations around the room. His study desk – where the books are arranged neatly, unlike yours back home. 

Your eyes then caught the Godzilla plushies sitting next to his bed. “You have plushies?” You couldn’t help but ask the question because having a plushie is a bit out of character for him. 

Iwaizumi let out a soft sigh– his shoulders slumped. “Guess who got it for me?” 

The way he worded his question answered everything you needed to know. “She gave it to you?”

Iwaizumi nodded weakly, “Never a fan of plushies. She just gave it to me because she saw how much I like Godzilla. That’s all. It was a nice gesture until she went and cheated on my cousin’s friend behind my back. The worst thing was, my cousin’s friend had a girlfriend too at the moment. It was messy as hell because the girl decided to attack her and I just stood there, clueless. That was not even her first time cheating behind my back! So, mine is quite similar to yours, I assume.”

The end of his sentence got you rethinking your entire breakup. Now that he said it out loud, yes it was similar. Except that Iwaizumi found out too late and yours was at the perfect time. Worst, planned by the bitch herself. Oh she’s definitely not a girl’s girl. A homewrecker at the age of eighteen. Yucks. 

“Well, look at us. A product of someone who got cheated on in their relationship. Welcome to the club. Do you want to be the leader? I’m comfortable being the co-leader,” you joked. Iwaizumi just shook his head with a slight smile on his lips. He then dismissed the joke with his hand. 

You took it as a cue to continue doing your discussion. Most of the time, it was just you getting distracted by his veiny hands and his raspy voice. You kept on remembering the sex you guys had before this. Slowly exhaling a deep breath, you tried to focus. 

“What’s the matter with you?” Iwaizumi asked confusedly. He was busy mapping out your discussions and you were exhaling a few times– louder than usual. You looked like you were growing agitated. 

You looked at him apologetically, “Well, can our friends with benefits arrangement still go on? Or have you found someone else?” 

Iwaizumi’s jaw ticked. He couldn’t believe such a question got him all hot and bothered. Maybe it was a joke but you did not look like you were joking either. 

“What do you have in mind?” Iwaizumi asked. 

“Wanna fuck?” You asked sheepishly. Well, blame it on the hormones and the man himself. How dare he look all gorgeous and sexy while holding a discussion on an important subject?

Iwaizumi was almost sent to the emergency room at that moment. He let out a raspy laughter, “You really wanna do that right now? Good lord, you’re unbelievable.” 

He was saying that as he unbuttoned the first two buttons of his shirt. You smirked knowing his tactics. Iwaizumi then reached the front of your shirt, almost popping all of your buttons in one go. He pushed your body on the carpeted floor and you broke into giggles. 

The man then snaked his hand under your skirt. His palm slowly caressing the inner of your thighs that made your blood run cold. Your chest rose heavily, breath staggered at his every touch. 

He pressed his thumb over your dampened cotton underwear. With a slow caress, you took a deep breath as you tried to ease yourself. Iwaizumi’s lips ghosted over your neck, gently nibbling on your skin. His free hand crept to your wrist and pinned it down beside your head.

“One touch and you’re already wet, princess?” His words hung over the air – his dark green eyes held your gaze. 

You looked at him with a dazed stare, “Well, you were busy sitting still and looked pretty for me. I guess it made me feel something.” 

One of the things that Iwaizumi likes about you is that you kinda match his snarky remarks. It’s not easy to match his kind of joking around without others taking it to heart. Trust him, he has tried. 

A small grin appeared on the corner of his lips. His two longest fingers brushed over your wet slit. A small whimper came out of your lips, earning a smug grin from the man. “A mere touch got you whimpering? You need to learn how to last long, princess,” he said in that raspy voice of his. 

What he said just now turned you on. Damn him and his dirty talk that got you all worked up. The rough feel of his fingertips lightly scratched against your sensitive pussy down there.

His fingers worked their way up to your entrance, slowly circling around your entrance before he made it up to your clit. Iwaizumi dragged his fingertips around your puffy clit that got your body jerked in his hold. You breathed heavily, trying not to make any noise like he said earlier. 

“Want me to continue, princess? You’ve been real quiet,” he got up on his knees just to say it into your ear.

Your eyes locked with his gaze, “Yes, please .” 

Iwaizumi’s sharp gaze bored into yours before he spoke up. “Pleading looks good on you, princess.”

His lips caught yours in a split second, nibbling on your lower lip. His free hand cupped the column of your neck before moving it to your nape, pressing your lips harder against his. You tried to breathe but he was quick to shove his tongue into your mouth. 

You got impatient and immediately unbuttoned his slacks. His pants were getting tighter each second, especially the groin area. It’s amusing how easily you can affect him. The things that you make him feel, gosh. 

One of Iwaizumi’s fingers crooked on the waistband of your skirt and pulled it down, revealing you in your cotton underwear. You sighed when he brought the same finger and let it linger on the wet spot a tad bit longer. The rough feel of his fingertip created a friction you never knew was so daunting. 

Both of you now half-naked in each other’s lap. Iwaizumi positioned you in his lap. His face was just the right level with your clothed breasts. You unbuttoned your school shirt for him and he watched it with a thirst that almost burnt his throat. Sharp breaths accompanied his impatience while watching you get undressed. 

You reached the back of your bra to unhook it. Iwaizumi got aroused just seeing how fucking pretty your tits are. He gulped hard. So hard that it was audible to both of you. 

Iwaizumi is a patient man. Maybe not to a bunch of people but he sometimes has the patience of a saint. But now, he is being tested as a man. Well, he finds himself enjoying watching you stripping out of your clothes but right now, he’s like a man being starved for so long. His patience was running thin and it was very fortunate he didn’t rip your bra apart. 

“Fuck, I love your tits, princess,” he sighed breathily as he buried his face in your breasts. You bit on your lower lip, suppressing the moan. 

A warm feeling coated your pert nipple as a strong hand massaged another breast. You sighed when Iwaizumi gently sucked on your sensitive nipple. His other hand was busy kneading your other breast. His touch is magical, if it makes any sense. Any other stress that you were having before, they have disappeared. 

Your nails scratched his scalp while your hips were busy grinding back and forth on him. Iwaizumi groaned every time his dick twitched in his pants. Not now , he grunted to himself. He wanted to savour your taste firstly first before he fed his hunger and lust. 

“Your mouth feels so good, Iwa,” you half-whispered. Iwaizumi’s hand travelled to your ass and gave it a hard squeeze. You chuckled under your breath, knowing it was his silent way of acknowledging what you just said. 

His tongue circled your nipple, saliva coating your sensitive nipple. Iwaizumi’s both hands were now pinned on your waists. His face glanced up at you and you gave him this pleading eyes that got him rock hard again. 

Shit, the voice at the back of his mind said. Iwaizumi didn’t say anything but caught your lips with a hard and punishing kiss. You were caught off-guard that you almost stumbled backwards. But his strong hands stopped you before it even happened. 

The kiss was making you feel lightheaded, not even realising both of you were undressing each other in the light of speed. Your shirt, his shirt. Your skirt, his pants. Your underwear, his boxer. Both of you are now fully naked on his carpeted floor. 

“Fuck, I can’t wait to get inside you,” he whispered against your lips and you nodded without any doubts. 

“Condoms,” you gasped softly and Iwaizumi immediately reached for the drawer beside his bed. He tore the foil with his teeth and rolled the condom on. You found it hot that he was getting impatient and so did you. Your mouth also watered at the sight of his dick. He always stretches your pussy so good and that’s a memory you cherish forever. But he doesn’t need to know it.

Iwaizumi then looked at you. His eyes were questioning you whether you’re ready or not. You nodded as if both of you could read each other’s minds. He then suggested getting on his bed or else both of you would get back pain. 

Your weight dipped into his soft as hell mattress. Wow. It felt like clouds laying down on his bed. You just prayed his bed is also… soundproof and less creaking. “Shoot. Your mattress is comfy as hell,” you complimented as he got on top of you. His body caged your body. 

Iwaizumi’s eyebrows scrunched a bit. Man, you are so random sometimes. “Princess, you do love to think your thoughts out loud, do you?” 

A chuckle filled the momentary silence. You then circled your arms around his shoulders, bringing him down nose-to-nose with you. “You’re getting impatient, aren’t you? Well, come on now. Show me how bad you want to fuck me,” you said seductively against his lips. 

His cock nudging between your legs. Iwaizumi’s smirk slowly plastered on his lips. He bit on your lower lip until you winced in pain. “Such a vulgar language,” his voice rasped. He propped an elbow as his other free hand lined his cock along your entrance. 

The tip of his cock slid inch by inch – your mouth gaped open, back arching as your pussy stretched to his size. Iwaizumi let out a soft groan as he bottomed out. Your nails were already clawing into his back. 

His fingers clawed onto his bedsheet, hips slowly rocking forward. Fuck, he felt like he was in pure bliss once he was inside you. Your pussy was so warm, so inviting and so fucking tight that it hurt. He almost came the second he was inside you. Bless the universe for not fucking with him that moment. 

Your legs wrapped around his waist, locking him in. His hand then squeezed your breasts in both of his hands. Looks like you finally figured out what kind of man he is. 

The truth is, Iwaizumi leaned more towards the guys who prefer ass. He was not a douchebag. He simply has preferences but it’s not like he is going to announce it to the real world. Why couldn't his hands leave your tits? Because your tits were on his mind all day. Especially the way your sports attire you were wearing earlier hugging every curve of your upper body and the sports bra you were wearing definitely triggered some of his primal instincts. 

His thrust was hard and punishing. He fucked you so hard that your tits bounced wildly in his face. The man was so lost in how lewd his sight was right now. Your breathless moans, the continuous whispers telling him to keep going. Fuck. He missed this. He missed fucking you and being inside you. 

“Princess, your pussy is so fucking tight,” he leaned down to whisper. Your eyes slowly opened, revealing his handsome face and the sweats that glistened on his forehead and abs. 

The man has a set of abs that was carved by God himself. Every line and crevice is deep and curved to perfection. His V-line too. Good lord. Suddenly, you were hit with a pang of jealousy. How many women did he sleep with? How many nudes did he send before you? Ugh! Jealousy couldn’t have come at the worst time.

Iwaizumi glanced over your fucked out expression. Eyes closed, lips swollen and glossy from the kiss. He cupped your cheek, “Did you hear me, princess?”

You nodded hurriedly, “Don’t stop, Iwa. Fuck. S’so good.” 

Your words were all over the place. Not even your mind could be able to function properly with how good his cock was stretching you out. The tip of his cock nudging your spot, bringing you closer to climax by each second. You clawed at his shoulder at the slow sensation building up in your core. 

“Fuck!” You hissed when you felt it coming. Iwaizumi groaned when your pussy clenched around his cock like a tight vice. 

One of his hands found your clit. His thumb rubbing circles on your weakest spot that left you crumble like a broken vase. All of your senses heightened. Goosebumps prickled and your core tightened into a twisted knot. Your breath started getting heavier but Iwaizumi wouldn’t stop his thrust – from fucking into you harder.

It was all too much. If he kept going, you might scream at the top of your lungs. You didn’t want him to stop either. 

The man himself was losing his composure. He couldn’t last long but fuck, you were so close. So close to the brink of an orgasm. That’s a thing he wouldn’t let slide so easily. 

His thumb found your clit again, his cock thrusting in and out of you mercilessly. You were so wet that there was no restriction. His thumb circled your clit, building the rhythm to make you come. 

“Come on, princess. Give me all you got, hm? Don’t hold back. Let go, beautiful,” he leaned down next to your ears, panting heavily. His eyes shut closed, trying to last longer than you. Your bodies were so close, chest-to-chest. The noises were so lewd you were afraid if someone was outside, listening to everything. 

You moaned again. Your sweet moans lulling the sound of the skin slapping against skin. It was only a matter of time before your orgasm crashed. 

“Fuck, baby, I’m so so close!” You pleaded. Iwaizumi kept going, his thrust didn’t stop or get any sloppier. He kissed you hard on the lips that had you gasping for breath. 

You gasped for air, “Oh God, Oh God, Oh God!” 

Your cries were his cue that your orgasm was in a matter of seconds. Iwaizumi shut you up with his mouth again. The tight knot crashed. White spots covered your vision as your breath slowly became normal again. Iwaizumi pressed his forehead against yours and gathered his breath. 

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath as he slowly pulled out of you. You felt empty without him being inside you. 

You let out a soft gasp watching him tying the used condom and tossing it into his dustbin. The man then grabbed a pair of shorts to wear. He rummaged through his closets to find a clean towel to help you clean up, though there wasn’t really any big mess to clean after. 

Iwaizumi tossed the clean towel to you. “You need to take a quick shower? You can use my bathroom.” 

You let out a disgruntled sound, “Thanks.” 

Iwaizumi’s eyes trailed after your movements as you made your way to his bathroom. He was fortunate enough to have his personal bathroom. It makes it easier every time he has company over. Girls, especially. 

You are the second girl he has ever invited to his room. His bed , vis-a-vis. Most of the time he prefers to do it at their house instead. But he is not the type to fuck around a lot. It’s a waste of his time to focus on the wrong thing when he could be focusing on his final year and volleyball. 

The man then threw his weight on his bed the second you locked the bathroom door. He placed an arm over his eyes, reminiscing the whole sex fiasco just now. How pretty your moans and cries were. Just by remembering the tiniest part of it got him hard again. Double shit.

Your eyes widened at how fucking beautiful his bathroom was. The interior was to die for, and you meant it literally! It could be one of your dream bathrooms! Just how rich is he?! 

Iwaizumi is a very organised man. He arranged all of his products where they were supposed to be. You gawked at his bathroom before finally getting into the shower. It was spacious as hell, enough to fit both of you. 

Nope ! Not going there!  

Just when you were about to get dressed, your mind finally clicked that you did not bring any of your clothes inside the bathroom. That also meant you had to go out and re enter again. Shit and shit! 

Without thinking any further, you just came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around your body. It was a bit short but enough to cover your everything . 

Iwaizumi’s eyes brightened with amaze once his gaze landed on you. “Forgot your clothes? You know you could have called me to bring it to you, right?” 

You huffed, “Obviously my brain cells weren’t working! Geez.” You looked at your clothes scattered on the floor and you sighed. Great! Now you needed to crouch to pick them up. 

“Hajime!” A woman’s voice suddenly boomed outside of his door. Both of you jumped in surprise at the sudden presence. 

“Your ex came back?” You gasped.

Iwaizumi looked at you with the “ are you fucking serious? ” expression. Duh ! It was his mother! The only thing that should have been the first thing on your mind! Iwaizumi hurriedly asked you to put on your clothes but damn it, it was so hard to focus on the simplest task at times like this! 

“Hajime! Do you have your friends over?” His mother knocked on his door countless times. She even tried to hear what was going on inside of his room. 

Iwaizumi tried to breathe normally, “Yes, mom! We’ll be out in a second! Just- finalising our school work!” 

Mrs. Iwaizumi let out a huff, “Sure. Come out when y’all are ready. I ordered some takeouts.” 

“Okay, mom!” Iwaizumi said loudly. He listened to his mother’s footsteps fading away into the distance. He let out a relieved sigh, “Shit. That was close. Okay, get dressed.”

You hurriedly hooked your bra when he wasn’t looking. “What do you think I am doing right now?” You replied sarcastically.

“Always a fun time with you, princess,” Iwaizumi shot you a glare as he put on his sweats and hoodie. He ruffled his hair so he looked at least presentable in the presence of his mother. 

Couldn’t afford getting caught red-handed by his mother. Truly a nightmare if it ever happens. Iwaizumi shuddered at the thought. 

You carefully smoothed your hair using your fingers. After ensuring you looked neat, you told Iwaizumi that you were good to go! He unlocked his door and asked you to step out first. 

Iwaizumi walked ahead of you. In the living room, there sat his mother waiting with a magazine in her hands. Her eyes shot to where both of you were standing like deers being caught in the headlights. 

“Oh, it’s not Oikawa! Hello!” His mother chirped. She rose to her feet and walked towards both of you. You shied behind Iwaizumi but he slowly pushed you to the front. 

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Iwaizumi. I’m Hajime’s partner. Study partner, I meant,” you immediately corrected yourself after the vague meaning. Wouldn't let his mother think otherwise. 

Weird. Being friends wouldn’t even justify that you guys are fucking. 

You shushed away the tiny voice in your head. Iwaizumi’s mother extended her hand to you and you shook her hand. 

“Nice to meet you too, Hajime’s girl friend,” she chuckled and glanced over to his son. 

Iwaizumi let out a soft sigh, “Mom, please.” 

“I was just kidding, sweetheart. What’s your name, sweetie?” Iwaizumi’s mother asked. 

She looked friendly and so warm. There’s something about her aura that made you comfortable being around her. 

“Just call me Y/N, Mrs. Iwaizumi,” you smiled politely.

His mother’s smile reached her eyes, radiating positive vibes. “Alright, Y/N sweetie. I actually bought some takeouts. Please have some before you head back. Come on, let’s go to the dining room.” 

She said and took your wrist with her. You looked back at Iwaizumi and he just shook his head in defeat. 

“Just play along,” he mouthed. Your lips formed into a thin line. His mother seemed nice and you did not have the heart to turn her down. 

Well, a dinner wouldn’t hurt! At times like this, you weren’t sure whether your mom was already home or not. 

Mrs. Iwaizumi loved to tease her son a lot. Iwaizumi kept getting his ears red because of how much his mother liked to poke him around. You couldn’t help but stifle a silent laughter. He’d destroy you if you enjoyed this too much. Well, he already gave you a sign by glaring at you. Before he puts you in a headlock, you better take a step back just to be safe! 

Iwaizumi was not having it. Thank goodness his father was not around or else it’d be  double the trouble. His father’s overseas meeting spared him the headache. He kinda enjoyed the dinner but maybe there was no need to admit it to your face. You’ll gloat and he cannot afford another petty human being in his life. 

God knows how handful they can be at times. But to him, it almost felt like he had met his match. 

[t0ast-ghost]

I will not shut up about Star Trek TOS yet and you’ve decided to listen in on that. So welcome to my thoughts on the 11th episode (The Corbomite Maneuver):

- starting off strong with these camera angles and movements

- *sees a spinning colourful cube in space* just go a bit to the left (he is not up for shenanigans today)

- can’t wait for Checkov to be introduced, I hear he gets a gun or smt

- WHAT IS THAT PHYSICAL CHECK??? Why does he have to lie on his back?? And why does he have to have his shirt off?

- if I were Spock trying to call the captain and he picks up and all I’d see was his tits… all I’m saying is he keeps a really good straight face

- OMG we got a “what am I a moon shuttle conductor or a doctor?”

- Sulu laughing at Spock’s sense of humour

- the close up on Kirk’s ass as he leaves the room is so intentional

- Bones sitting on the railing…

- how many surfaces can I sit on competition but my opponent is Leonard Bones McCoy

- just to prove my point the next scene starts with him sitting on a table

- god I feel bad for Scotty having to sit between McCoy and Spock in some of those meetings

- Sulu was cool as a cucumber

- “do you ever tire of questioning me on things you’ve already made your mind up about?” “it gives me emotional security” they are each others emotional support guy (Spock & Kirk)

- Kirk saying“navigation, you’re timing was lousy. Same with engineering, Helmsman” then Bones immediately after “you’re timing was lousy”

- how can you sit in a chair like that even (bones)

- Alexa play tik tok by Kesha

- (okay now I’m just imagining Spock dancing like one of those spider-man memes but completely straight faced (also Spock now listens to Kesha canonically but like in my head))

- THE FUCK IS THAT FUCKING THING??? THAT IS A PUPPET!

- Bones is so caring, he has so much fucking compassion I won’t shut up about him

- “you now have seven minutes left” but there’s 23 minutes left in the episode. Guess a lot of it’s just gonna be dead air… er space I mean (yeah I can come up with a better line than this later (edit: no I can’t I’m tired))

- SPOCK IS SO SAD. He truly thinks this is a hopeless situation.

- Bones is about to die in four minutes and he’s threatening Kirk because of the fact that he put Bailey’s health at risk… I love this man

- “Anytime you can bluff me, doctor” I can’t legally say what I thought was said but maybe the ancient archaeologists will know from context clues

- I don’t think Uhura has spoken to most of the bridge crew up to this point, she barely has had plot or even dialogue, I can’t wait till they give her an episode or just even make her more central

- Spock going to Kirk’s side after the bluff for emotional support

- Spock is so proud when talking about his mom :)))

- Your science and medical officers usually shouldn’t stand so close to your chair and clutch at it while leaning over you. It’s not normal behaviour.

- Okay I’d like to mention how calm Sulu has been and how much I love him, can we please get more of him in future episodes?

- wait so Bones is just gonna let Bailey go back to work? Like I get they apologized to each other but that doesn’t change that it’s still a bad idea to have him there

- Spock, Kirk, and McCoy immediately after the death threat is gone: guess it’s time to start flirting again

[Video description: Spock stands on the bridge, he says, “A very interesting game, this poker.” Kirk sitting in his captains chair replies, “It does have advantages over chess.” McCoy smiling at Spock adds, “Love to teach it to you.” Spock smiles back at him. End description]

- he’s got a twinkle in his eye

- The shake on the bridge as the tractor beam tows them is so funny if you watch Spock and McCoy (it continues to be funny for the next couple minutes)

- "Captain request to-" "Denied. If it's a trap.. If I'm wrong, I want you here" awwe he wants him safe (idc that this is not what the writers are trying to say, HE WANTS SPOCK SAFE)

- they all have to bend over on the transporter pad but when they get transported Bones isn't even bent he's just standing at his normal height slightly hunched

- HOLY CRAP I HATE THAT THING... I'm so glad it's a puppet

- nope okay I don't know what's happening, I can't. I'm. What.

- that is apple cider, they are sitting around this guy trying to drink apple cider

- McCoy doesn't know what the fuck to do right now and neither do I

Now imagine, if you will, Spock dancing

Thank you, and have a good day.

Master post of past/future episodes

[thebroccolination]

I never hold budget issues against a series that was made with love.

Sound engineering issues abound in most Thai BL series. I don’t have industry experience, but I think a lot of those issues stem from a very short postproduction window. Most series are filmed over a few months and then they’re put together in even less time—usually while the series is airing. Nuchy, director of Not Me, was editing some episodes the night before they aired. Not because she wanted to, but because she was under a strict, tight budget and didn’t have the time to do it any earlier. She’s gone into minute detail about the budgeting issues they faced, and it’s nowhere more obvious than in how the writing unspooled toward the end of the series—where they had episodes cut mid-production and didn’t have time to course-correct or edit or reshoot properly.

Meanwhile, shows on Netflix or Amazon or Disney take much longer to film, and postproduction takes even longer. Spending hours picking through each minute of footage for accidental clothing noises or unexpected sounds or muffled voices or echoing rooms takes budget. So does paying everyone to come back and reshoot a scene when you can’t remove those sounds.

Recently we found out that Prem wanted to add a pool-related scene to the end of Between Us because he thought it would enhance the story, but the production had already wrapped filming at the pool. So Prem offered to pay most of the cost of renting that location again because the production just didn’t have the money to do reshoots on a whim. Prem understands that and still wanted to shoot the scene because Between Us is a passion project about characters he loves. And New, the director, covered the rest of the cost as well as the cost to hire everyone back for that one scene.

Like most series, there have been sound issues in Between Us. But I’ve noticed more of them in the past few episodes than in the first five, likely because they had more time to work on those. During the homophobia scene in episode seven, Boun’s mic was under his shirt, so when he hugged Prem, his dialogue was muffled. The fact that they kept that take doesn’t mean they’re lazy or they don’t care—I have no idea how many other takes they had, or why they couldn’t use a boom mic instead, or what other technical issues they were having. I suspect they didn’t have the time or resources to correct it.

What I do know is that there has been a metric ton and a half of love put into this series by every person involved, and for me personally, that’s all I want from any series. A series can be as well-produced and dazzling as can be, but if there’s no heart in it, my interest in it plummets like a rock. I’ve dropped better funded series because they’re flashy and pretty but there’s no heart in them. They’re purely a vehicle to launch their actors into the larger marketing scheme.

So, y’know. Win’s changing roots, sound issues, etc., none of it makes a dent for me, and it’s why I never mention them even though I’ve noticed. That’s surface-level stuff that doesn’t make a significant difference to me. The acting, the story, and the character growth—that’s what I came for, and I think that’s what they’re excelling in. Boun and Prem have loved WinTeam for over three years, and it’s clear from their every scene together that they committed every iota of feeling to their performances.

They could have dropped Between Us at any point. Their popularity was skyrocketing before they even started filming, and the only reason they were only playing side characters in other series for so long was their commitment to Between Us. They love the story and the characters so much they both agreed to effectively put their careers on hold. They kept their popularity on a steady increase by doing promotional, sponsored work while they waited for their passion project.

It’s passion that I love. I’ll always love a story told with sincerity over a series that took thousands or millions more and lacks emotional depth. Everyone’s priority is different, of course, and some people value both production quality and emotional depth equally.

I’ll always look the other way with production shortcomings if the people telling the story are telling it with their whole heart.

[jacksprostate]

Tyler is hopping around on his pogo stick again. When he lands, it's with a mushy thump as he sinks into the rotting floorboards. Sometimes he gets stuck and just tips over instead of bouncing back up. It makes him stumble and jump ship. Moment of perfection ruined.

I need to renew my driver's license, I say.

"What are you telling me for?"

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

If Tyler's bed had a backboard, this is how it would sound before he and Marla pounded through to the next room.

I am Jack's throat of bile.

"Fine," Tyler says. "We'll go."

I do not say, we? Questioning Tyler is an amateur move I've managed to avoid for two months now.

Getting to the DMV takes three buses and a thirty minute walk. Presumably, they've decided you'll be driving there. Sometimes I think about the Audi I had before my Dakapo halogen torchiere speared it. One of Zeus' modern day lightning bolts, making sure the debris from my exploded condo totaled my car.

I could've gotten the windshield replaced. Somewhere, in a junkyard filled with unloved 50s salvage, there's the crushed up cube remains of this year's luxury sedan.

Tyler spends the entire time walking one half step behind me, making me lead him around. It makes me feel blind, like I'm a thirty year old boy still trying to get his father to take him places. I am the world's most easily played instrument. Whenever I look back he's grinning, chipped teeth and split lips.

It's a Saturday and we've arrived two hours or so after opening. This means that when I get my ticket stub, it reads an obscenely high number. I will be sitting here for the next six hours. Give or take.

The thing about seating in a government building is they know you have no choice to be there for at least two hours, if you're lucky. Naturally, the chairs are cheap, yawning plastic bolted into the floor at a height most optimal for slightly tall seven year olds.

Tyler and I toss ourselves into the only two person gap we can find, between a large man giving Bob a run for his money on hormone reversal and a frail woman in her eighties. Both look like I'd see them on a weeknight. I wonder if this is where Marla lurks in the time between when she's fucking Tyler and fucking up my support groups.

"You don't need this shit," Tyler says.

He's slouching into the chair, arms crossed and legs long and in the way. If I were to look where his shirt is rucked up, I'd see his skin disappear into the dark gap between his chiseled hip and the beige slacks he puts on when he pretends he's pretending to be a nice person. It's an obvious farce, since he hasn't even bothered to put underwear on.

This is one of those things that I try not to think too hard about, but I have something like four hundred minutes left to wait around here. I should've brought a few National Geographics.

I need a driver's license for my job, Tyler, I say. The old woman gives me a look.

"Christ." Tyler spits on the floor. I try not to be jealous. My seat neighbor, she gets right up and goes to the other end of the building. "Just roll over, why don't you."

I can tell, this will be a lesson. He gets this huge sureness about himself, like his dick is so big it's slapped his face into that smug false contemplation.

I need some kind of ID, Tyler.

Tyler says, "No you don't. Your bank already has you by the balls with your social security number. You ride the bus around. You're at the airport so often the airline staff recognize you. You only drive when work sends you to a small town, which happens fuck all three times a year. Tell me, you get a good fake, you think the overworked and underpaid car rental employee writing down your information would notice it unless you crashed his car? You know if that happened it'd be because you did it to kill yourself, so where's the problem?"

You could be a perfect driver and die on the road at any second, I protest.

We're attracting attention. Not Bob shifts around. Our conversation is quiet but unnerving.

Tyler says, "Does it feel nice, signing yourself up like a feedlot steer?"

Fucking hell, Tyler. It's not like anyone wants to do this. No one wants to be here. Not everyone can work three night shifts and have no identity according to the government.

Tyler says, "The only thing stopping you is the little set of rules you've set up for yourself."

What does Tyler know about my ability to do things?

"More than you," Tyler says. "You didn't think you could fight. You didn't think you could live without your perfect IKEA nest."

He's right. I still want to kick him to the floor and introduce his teeth to the tile. I notice, Not Bob has cleared the area. Retreat to safety. Bomb detonation in five, four. We've got a three seat berth on each side with people standing packed against the walls of the place.

A lone security guard floats our way.

"I'm going to have to ask you to leave, sir."

It's not the way that the men at fight club have started calling me sir. The security guard is looking at me like he knows about my condo blowing up, and he feels awfully sure about the cause.

I need to renew my driver's license.

Tyler says, "If we pay taxes for this building, these workers, doesn't that mean we pay your salary? You're going to kick out your kindest boss?"

"If you don't leave, I'll have to call the police."

Tyler says, "Can't even do it yourself?"

I think, every second of this day has been excruciating, and I have been awake for 77 hours.

Tyler socks the security guard right in the jaw, and the crowd goes wild.

It happens like this: Tyler hits the security guard with all four knuckles, all the people start screaming, and the security guard goes for his gun. I am standing in the middle of this hurricane, calm like a baby that's just been left in the car in 90 degree weather. I start walking.

Behind me, Tyler wrestles for the gun. He tosses it towards the kiosk that spat out my waiting ticket. He lets the security guard hit him in the gut. The face. The face again. He's on the ground, bloody spit threading his rebroken smile, and the security guard is kicking him in the gut. Tyler curls into a ball, the security guard kicks him in the kidneys. This will give Tyler bruises like size thirteen boots and make him piss blood for three weeks.

I reach the door, and Tyler's crawling after me. The security guard has come out of his haze, and now the crowd is staring at him. The headline: local DMV worker brutally bludgeons mentally ill constituent. People stare at him, now aware of the violence he is capable of. They wonder. He wonders.

Tyler limps out the door. We get on the bus and the driver stares at us and does not make us pay when we walk past him to the seats. The driver had a black eye. We saw him at fight club last week.

We sit, and I tell Tyler, because of him I'm definitely on a list now. Like they had for all those communists, but now it's for schizophrenics who might bomb their local state Department of Motor Vehicles location. I tell him if I get a letter saying I have to show up in court because I beat up a government worker, I'm sending him, and he can have fun explaining that to whatever rancid old judge presides over our case.

He laughs, and laughs, and laughs.

[rel124c41]

WALT DISNEY WORMDOG III. jade leech/oc

please contact your local doctor if you are experiencing the following symptoms: prophetic dreams, the feeling that someone is calling from across the water and from across the wave, midnight visitors, scars from sand, new friendships, black blood coming out your ears but NOT your nose, inhuman strength, canine teeth on your throat, & the philosophy that we should move on from our past and never let it hold us back from the possibilities of tomorrow.

a/n: It's Wednesday night and we're going to play Bingo!

tags: main character deaths, symbolic and not literal, blackberries symbolic for overblot stones, bingo, mindfuckery, minimal flirting, & shotguns.

word count: 2,468

Eight tables are fashioned into a heptagon like an old Elizabeth II era coin. Table eight is placed in the heptagon’s center. Naturally, the placement already calls attention to itself because the center table disrupts the flow of the seven-sided shape. Attention is also drawn to the table because the attendant is late.

It is truly odd because neglected, unsought Malleus Draconia has even made his way to the meeting. Which is why the Headmaster asks with a string of impatience in his tune, “Does anyone know if young Marion is planning to attend?”

The typical happens when a crowd of people is asked a question: a head shakes, a monotonous no, some murmuring of didn’t he say he would be here in five minutes, have you seen him, i think he went to the restroom. No clear hint or knowledge about the situation. Three astute voices break the mumbles and murmur with more concrete words.

“I think he’s still cleaning up the cones for Vargas,” Jack Howl hypothesizes.

“His punctuality is unorthodox tonight. Let’s wait another minute or two,” Riddle Rosehearts suggests.

“His text messages indicate that he is planning to attend,” Ortho Shroud informs.

Thus, they wait for another extended period of time as the wick of the Headmaster’s benevolent patience shortens. Time passes with a bit of low mumbling. Nothing too secretive is said because each word and syllable feels like a gunshot in the silence. Floyd Leech takes to stamping Azul Ashengrotto’s non-dominant hand with a Do-A-Dot marker, fashioned into the shape of a periwinkle mouse head and mouse ears, because he has already polka-dotted the majority of both his forearms. Time passes slowly, and time passes even slower the longer it goes on.

Outside of the heptagon, three waiters wait like racehorses in a starting stall. Time will never accelerate for them as per their profession’s namesake. Besides. Waiting means not playing the game, which basically means they have already won. 

It is only when the Headmaster moves a taloned hand to close the door with magic that the young Marion shoves his foot in the closing door. No one says anything as he walks in, not with his head low in shame or with his head held high in confidence. He does not know he has been keeping everyone waiting. 

Demurely, Marion rests his double-barrel shotgun Excalibur on the edge of his table in the center and leans back in his seat. As soon as he sat down, the game began. Yet, Marion takes his time, straightening himself up like a string on the top of his head is pulled and the air bubbles in his back crack. Everyone else’s attention moves from the center and onto their paper cards. 

With a hollow, plastic ball already in his golden talons, the Headmaster says, “G17.”

The starting stall opens for the waiters. Dressed in shawl lapel suits, two of them make their way around the heptagon. They take to refilling waters that had been drunk in the waiting period. The third races towards the middle, his claws clicking on the linoleum. 

“Henchman, why don’t I get to play! We’re the same student. The sidekick shouldn’t be playing the role of the hero.” Grim pouts, resting his paws on the edge of Marion’s seat.

“B5.”

“I’m surprised. That makes it sound like you want to do work.” Marion takes a sip of his untouched water, not having looked at his playing card yet.

“O36”

Grim grimaces at his least favorite four-lettered word, work. “Playing a game isn’t work though.” He is a little too short to look at what is on the table so his eyes flicker to the sleek black shotgun. “I wanna play.”

“B13.”

Resolute, Marion shakes his head and sets down his water to grab something else. “No. Go help out Ace and Deuce.” The color of his Do-A-Dot marker is gray-blue. It matches Grim’s magestone – which is concealed under his suit. 

“I4.”

The dire-beast gives a miserable, little frown at Marion’s words. However, he concedes. It is only due to the good faith between them that causes the beast to waddle away on his hindlegs. Like a ringleader who must convince his lion that jumping through flaming hoops is fun, trust must be drilled and hammered into the relationship for continual flaming-hoop-jumping.

The game continues on without further interruptions. Each player devotedly reads their sheets when a number and letter is called. This first round has been outlined only as a test to familiarize players with the mechanics of Bingo. Like a prologue of a video game, there are no real stakes in this.

However, that does not lessen the arrhythmic fluster of every player’s heart when Marion, dominant hand painted in black, says Bingo with his arm raised. 

Less than a handful of wandering eyes flicker over to Marion with mild interest. Smidgens of skepticism colors their irises. A magicless student just won the practice round? However, anyone who did turn around in his seat or glanced in Marion’s direction turns back to their playing cards easily. Must be a one-off thing. 

As Marion wipes so purple-it-almost-looks-black juices from the blackberries he ate off his fingers, Ace delivers the playing card to Crowley for it to be checked. Crowley returns it with confirmation that Marion is the winner, the players throw their used playing cards in the middle, looking at their fresh one on the top of their pile of seven, remaining cards.

Marion feeds a blackberry to Grim so they can revel in their almost-shared victory.

“G2.

“I12.

“N49.”

So on and so on. It is a sparse wave of moving, stamping hands. Many do not seem to be participating. Predictably, people like Leona Kingscholar and Idia Shroud barely give their playing cards more than a glance every tenth or eleventh called out number matched with a letter. People like Riddle Roseheart are very vigilant. 

Serious-minded as always, he makes sure to pay attention to the rules of the game. The night before, he took to researching online a beginner’s guide to the game. And since he is fonder to strawberries instead of blackberries, his focus does not wilt away from the playing card.

Blood red drops stain B13, G2, and I61. With his free spot predone for him, Riddle Rosehearts only needs O30 to win his cross line. At his table, Cater Diamond is enthusiastic about his housewarden’s encroaching win and Trey Clover offers a timid smile of encouragement.

“Bingo.”

Attention is drawn once more towards the center table. This time it is Grim who takes the playing card up to the Headmaster. Marion does not sit back down as he waits patiently for confirmation that he has won. 

“Well done, Marion,” Crowley says as he hands back the playing card to the suited dire-beast. “Bingo.”

A smile graces Marion’s face. His hand is stainfree as he reaches down by his legs. Grasping fingers do not curl around his returned playing card but instead curl around Excalibur, leveling it in his arms. Shotguns are such weight-y guns, like trying to hold a snapping crocodile with the grace of a sleepy pomeranian. 

When he aims it at Riddle Rosehearts, the two other Heartslabyul students stiffen. “Nothing personal?” Marion asks, but waits for no confirmation this time, as he empties the chamber of one bullet shell.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ 

Bingo is a tactical game about tracking down who is the biggest threat.

You must survey each player like they are intruders in your household at night. You must always check each Bingo player’s hand for a Do-A-Dot marker each ten seconds or you might find they have switched out that marker for a gun. An essential rule of Bingo – as Riddle Roseheart, blood red smeared on his playing cards, read the night before – is to find the biggest threat and eliminate them.

To eliminate players, the only method acceptable is with guns. Usually, guns that fire off bullets made of void or elemental magic are a player’s favorite choice. Excalibur is a bit avant-garde in the sense that bullet shells are made magic relative to what Marion needs them to be.

“G7.

“G18.

“N55.”

Leona Kingscholar had not seemed like a big threat until the end, with a perfect, lucky lineup of golden dots on the numbers underneath the bold I. Azul Ashengrotto also hardly seemed a threat, with a slippery melange of snot and tears running down his face onto his periwinkle spotted playing card.

But, Marion had to clean house. 

So, he blew both their brains out with the swiftness of a seasoned pest exterminator. 

Deuce took to scrubbing up the blood on Savanclaw’s table while Grim stood on a magically-made stool to wipe down Octavinelle’s table. Since the waiters had their hands full with cleaning, it was up to someone else to aid Ace, who had already cleaned up Heartslabyul’s table and is refilling the bowls of blackberries.

Marion got to select from the crowd of individuals, surrounding him in a heptagonal ring. The Headmaster might have been calling the numbers, but Marion was calling the shots. “Jade Leech.” The Headmaster’s gold eyes search Marion’s green eyes.

“Have Jade Leech help serve.” His green eyes are so focused on the Headmaster that he misses the look of twisted longing that fills the vice-housewarden’s eyes, the skin of his blood-splattered, under-eyelids creasing with mirthful affection.

Jade Leech is dressed in a shawl lapel suit and given immunity. Azul’s blood is left on his face. The game continues on. Players maneuver Do-A-Dot markers that match up to their dormitory’s colors as waters and fruit bowls are refilled. Jade takes to refilling up waters Ace misses, so effective in a familiar routine that he has enough time to linger by the center table with amorous intents.

“G77.”

“Excuse my unprompted comment, but you seem to be having quite a stroke of good luck. Do you think it will be finite?” Jade fills Marion’s glass with a pitcher of plain water; they both watch it slowly rise to the very top and quake with surface tension.

“B93.”

Marion feels the keen eyes trained upon him with tangibility found in a very real knife or gun pressed to his temple. Sipping without spilling, Marion responds with his lips on the glass rim, “I’m hoping to come out victorious. A SS rank.”

“I25.”

“May I ask another question?” Jade tries to appear sheepish but it is hard with the cool, collective look he wears. He looks like he will ask the question even if Marion’s answer was no. “What is it: confidence or arrogance?”

“G46.”

Marion dots his playing card. He only has three dots on the twenty-five squares, which includes his free spot as well. Though he certainly seems to be losing, the Prefect smiles and asks a question in response to a question, “Aren’t those words synonymous, handsome?”

“O10.”

“Well,” Jade leans his body down and encompasses Marion’s bicep in his gloved hand, delighted that his fingers do not touch as he squeezes the flesh, “keep up the good work, Marion.”

Jamil Viper has been waiting for this for a long time. He has mapped it out in his head since he was young and he has prayed that all the puzzle pieces will fall into place. Though Bingo has always been a game of luck, Jamil Viper uses skill too in this operation.

This is how his Bingo board looks. Along the B row, he has everything besides B3. Four dark maroon dots. Diagonally, he has everything besides G14. Four dark maroon dots. Across his second row, he has everything besides a B3. Four dark maroon dots. If he gets a B3, he will get double Bingo. Victory is predestined to him. All of his hidden hard work will yield his success. 

“B33.”

A hysterical, frightened voice billows up from the heptagon. “Someone should call the cops!!” Only for it to reveal itself as Marion’s voice when he smiles, satisfied and smug. Witty, he sings, “I’m killin’ it~! Bingo!” 

He waits for confirmation as Jade passes off the playing card to Crowley. Jamil grips the edge of his table. There is still time to scrounge up his last resources; besides, Marion could be mistaken and misheard a number-and-letter combination. However, the table splinters under Jamil’s oppressive grip a mere second later.

Because of the familiar routine, the shotgun feels as light as a handheld pistol when Marion swings it up like a baseball bat and fires.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ 

The Bingo Hall is quiet and full of smoke. 

It floats at about shoulder height. It is thicker than any fog and stinks of acrid ammonia. If you were to playfully tug at it, the smoke would follow the motion of your hand in curling, gray-blue wisps. It is so thick that Marion sincerely thinks one of the residential ghosts of NRC might be swimming around in the fog. It covers like a fleece blanket, luring everyone to rest their heads on the tabletops in coma-like sleep.  

Malleus had meant to make them all fall asleep but …

Marion is the only one still awake. Even Ace, Deuce, Grim are laid comatose on the ground like discarded dolls, even Jade (stripped of his shawl lapel suit after Idia’s death) is resting his head on the table. Marion is awake. Though, not for long. It is evident through the way he rubs his eyes and continuously yawns. He is going to fall asleep any second now.

He can feel each breath lure him deeper into comatose. Thick nose-fulls of ghosts and fog running through his lungs. All you can hear is the sound of ragged, measured breaths. 

“Bingo,” Malleus states.

“Bingo,” Marion states.

Both at the same exact time.

The thing about Bingo is: the one that says the name of the game first gets their sheet checked first. Each syllable of theirs is perfectly lined up like the dots on their sheets. 

In the absence of waiters and headmasters, the Dark Mirror takes both the playing cards (one dotted with blue-gray and the other dotted with green) with levitation magic. The apathetic face searches each sheet, checking the numbers dotted with the number called. And even though the reviewing is not completed, Marion has his shotgun aimed at Malleus’s head and Malleus has his shotgun aimed at Marion’s heart.

A shotgun shell will rip through a body. A shotshell fires from the barrel after the heat and sparks in the primer starts the process. Pellets leave the barrel and begin to scatter or spread. Once the shotshell hits a part of the body, it looks like a fruit tree of shrapnel, holes like hanging oranges. 

One usually does not survive a shotshell because of this spread of pellets.

“Both of these are winners. BINGO.”

Malleus and Marion fire their weapons.

[theaceace]

Ok so when Rose gives the heart back to unity once more rendering her the vortex and then she dies in her sleep, something goes wrong (either because Desire set a sneaky trap or because it's close enough to breaking the rules of Endless not hurting family) that there's an explosive reaction, and when the chaos dies down Rose is still in the dreaming even though that definitely should have woken her up and Dream is nowhere to be found

Now Rose is stuck in the dreaming, and after a quick five minutes of panicking, comes to the conclusion with Lucienne and Unity that she'll have to track Dream down and get him to fix this. Lucienne needs to return to the palace to keep the dreaming running smoothly, Unity despite seeming chill about it has just DIED and also has never actually used any of her vortex powers the way Rose has and I'm basically just handwaving the fact that Rose is going to have to search for Dream on her own

Or not entirely on her own! Matthew is there, because every young woman embarking on a solo adventure needs a sassy talking animal sidekick, them's the rules

So Rose and Matthew set out on a trek through the dreaming, and this is the point where I could get wildly creative if I had the brainpower, and come up with fantastical dreamworlds

Because this is an AU and I say that being the descendent of an Endless should have some perks, Rose can still travel between dreams, she just can't affect them/the waking world or bring down the walls between dreams the way she could before. She's more akin to Matthew or Lucienne than a vortex, despite being human and aliveSo they spend a while chasing dead ends and leads that go nowhere until they wind up in some dream set in a pretty normal pub, and in true dreamlogic fashion there are people in clothes that come from a mishmash of the last 7 centuries, eating by rushlight while on their phones. But! Rose looks over and there's Dream! Amazing, they found him!

Matthew's like uhhhhh, I've spent a lotta time with the bossman, Rose, I'm not so sure that's - but it's too late she's already marching over

Meanwhile, Hob has been having a really nice dream in which his Stranger enjoys his company and didn't stand him up and doesn't wander off to 'inspire' any upstart playwrights and smiles at him like he did when they finally met up again a couple of weeks ago or whenever it was. He really wasn't expecting it to be interrupted by a girl rushing over to grab his Stranger's shoulder all excited about how we've found you Dream we were so worried are you ok???

And look. Hob is pretty used to rolling with the punches. After seven hundred years on planet earth, you gotta be. But this is, he hates to say, a pretty fucking weird turn for his dream to take usually it turns more toward his Stranger bending him over the table ahem

Also there's a talking bird. Why not

Rose has now realised that this Dream is not, in fact, the real Dream. BUT that means this guy must know Dream! Maybe he can help out? And Matthew is like wait, wait a second. You. YOU'RE the guy the boss went all starry-eyed (literally) over???

Hob reckons uuuuuhhhhh probably not? Took him seven hundred years to admit they're friends, and Matthew is like holy shit that hussy

Anyway I want Rose Hob and Matthew to go on a roadtrip adventure to save Dream is what I'm getting at. I was to continue the glorious tradition of Hob learning things about his friend (😍) thanks to other people and not from his friend himself (😭). I want Hob to play accidental therapist to Rose like he does to his students. I want Matthew to mock him mercilessly. I want Hob to sometimes be an asshole. I want them to BOND

And I want them to make it to the house of secrets and the house of mysteries where Hob is forcibly reminded that he was raised a Catholic medieval peasant when he sits down for tea with Cain and Abel (who think that Gadling would be an excellent name for a gargoyle if Morpheus ever makes another).

I want Abel to offhandedly mention something unspeakably horrible in the basement, but when Rose opens that door it just leads into a big fancy hallway? They go through anyway, and something feels different about this dream. Matthew is all 'I got a bad feeling about this' because Patton Oswalt loves Star wars and I think it's funny. Maybe they see a stuffed raven with a white breast in a room of taxidermied animals

So they keep looking, and eventually Hob finds a door leading to a basement, cracks a silly joke about finding something unspeakably horrible down there to cover up the fact that he's actually fucking terrified (he's come to accept that this is not a dream in the traditional sense, although it took way longer than it should have), and heads down the staircase

(It's the snow globe)

And here I start to run out of momentum a bit but like. I think Hob Rose and Matthew deserve to come together to roast the shit out of Dream while Lucienne tracks their progress from the library with Unity and Merv, who are also roasting the shit out of Dream, and all roasting comes to an abrupt and choked end when they get to the basement

Maybe Dream has been reduced to a cloud of swirling black sand in the orb, or maybe he looks almost exactly as he did in reality, maybe the Dream Team have to get him out but in order for that to happen he has to allow them to help, or maybe he needs to free himself because something something it's a metaphor idk. Maybe Dream, in whatever state he's in, panics at the sight of his bae friend, his raven, and his niece all outside the glass just like Jessamy was. Maybe he tries to throw them all out of the dream, but he's weakened himself as though he really were trapped in the circle again, and Rose is able to stand her ground against him.

And idk I don't really have an ending beyond 'Dream gets out and everyone is OK and also Rose and Hob end up being exasperated penpals over Dream's... Dream-ness.

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

The Big Wheel: Part One

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.6k

Summary: The case you’re on is dependent on a little boy who is blind who sees with more than just his eyes.

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated

x

"In order for the light to shine so brightly, the darkness must be present." - Francis Bacon

You carefully fold the piece of paper into a triangle and continue folding this piece of paper until you've created your very own cootie catcher. You open the four flaps and write two things on each so that each response is different. While JJ is getting the briefing room set up, you're having a bit of fun beforehand.

"What are you doing?" Spencer asks.

"Making a cootie catcher. Wanna play?"

"How? What do you do?"

You roll over to his desk with a smile and set up the game in front of him. On the front are different shades of color he can pick from.

"Pick a color."

"Green."

You move the cootie catcher five times and open it further to reveal the numbers you've written.

"Okay, pick a number."

"Seven."

You open that number flap and read what you've written there.

"You're going to get a gift from someone who loves you."

"Is that gift going to come from you?"

"If you're lucky," you smirk and kiss him quickly.

"Is that a cootie catcher?" Emily gasps and bounces her way over. "I haven't played that game since I was a child."

"Alright, pick a color," you smirk and start the game over.

"Blue!"

You move it four times.

"Now pick a number."

"Two."

You open the flap and reveal what's been written.

"There is a surprise waiting for you at home."

"Unless it's from my cat, I don't think there will be," she laughs.

"Briefing room, five minutes," Hotch calls from above.

"Sorry, Derek, you'll get your turn next time," you say and put away your toy.

"I don't think I want a turn," he chuckles.

The team moves the small party into the briefing room where Hotch, Rossi, and JJ already are. Once everyone is settled in, JJ puts a picture of a young woman on the screen.

"Her name's Michelle Watson who was a realtor murdered in Buffalo a week ago. Until yesterday, they didn't have any leads until they got this."

JJ plays a video of someone inside a bathroom. They must be holding the camera in front of them because you can't see who the person is, just what's in front of them. He turns the sink on and off and shows that the mirror is covered with duct tape. He leaves the bathroom and goes outside where there is an unsuspecting couple by their car who don't seem alarmed that they're being filmed.

"Buffalo PD received it from an unknown source yesterday."

"Were they able to trace it?"

"No. It was sent through an encrypted server from Ukraine."

"There's no sound."

"Yeah, at first glance, there doesn't seem to be a single frame to identify who shot it. He even covered up the mirror."

"I've seen some crazy things sitting at this table, but that... Why send that to the police?" Penelope asks.

"Maybe it's a taunt to show the police how smart he is. You know, catch me if you can sort of thing."

"The two people in the video look directly at the unsub, and neither one seems to register that they're being filmed. It could be a hidden camera."

"The witnesses were able to give us enough for a sketch." JJ passes around papers of what the unsub looks like. "He's a white male in his early thirties that wears glasses."

The video switches from the couple outside to a dark room with a bunch of editing software. There is a computer and some editing tech that the unsub uses to edit his murder videos. There is something playing on the computer screen, but you're unsure of what.

"It looks like an editing suite," you say. "Not only does he film the murder, he edits it. Do we know what's playing on the monitor?"

"Buffalo PD is concerned that it might be another filmed killing."

"If it is, then we're not looking at just one murder but two," Emily says.

"Buffalo is underfunded, undermanned, and they need our help."

"Buffalo's a big gang town. Over seven hundred people were murdered in the last year alone."

"Garcia, I need you to go through this frame by frame and put everything on disks."

"Yes, sir. I'm on it."

Penelope gets up to leave but Hotch stops her.

"Also, put together a go bag. If we get any more of these films, I want you on the ground taking point. Is that okay with you?"

"Yes, sir. Excellent." She walks away but you hear what she mutters to herself. "I don't have a go bag."

"Okay, fast forward. There's something I want everyone to see," Hotch says.

JJ forwards the video to a specific point where the unsub grabs a red marker to write something on the wall.

HELP ME.

He wants to be stopped but can't on his own.

"Wow, a serial killer asking for help. That's a new one for me."

"What if he's sincere?"

"Then he's deeply ambivalent."

"He wants to stop, but like an alcoholic, he simply can't. When we see him driving, his point of view is elevated. I'd say he's driving a van or an SUV. The film stops where it starts--at his home. We can use the film to trace back street by street from the crime scene, right?"

"It only lasts nine minutes. In this frame, he clearly looks at a clock, and it's 9:22 AM."

"Michelle's time of death was four-thirty in the afternoon. He edited out seven hours."

Penelope comes back into the room with her go-bag in hand and a laptop in the other.

"Garica, look for unsolved murders of women in their early thirties who were stabbed in Buffalo and surrounding cities. Go back ten years."

Penelope sits back down and starts typing on her computer.

"Wouldn't ViCAP have already picked up on that?"

"ViCAP only went web-based about a month ago, and Buffalo PD only recently uploaded the data. Without diving in too deep, I have twenty-two counts of murders from women in their early thirties."

"Okay, wheels up in thirty."

It only takes an hour to get there, and you're talking to the lead detective, Lynne Henderson, before you know it. She's shocked to hear how many cased Penelope found with one quick search.

"Twenty-two? We had six. Do you really think it could be that many?"

"We went back ten years and included surrounding cities. The unsub may be out of his comfort zone. Now, they may not all be connected, but they all match Michelle's type--blonde, white, and in their early thirties. The autopsy reports will help us determine which of these cases are connected."

"I'll get them here right away."

"We also need to take a look at the crime scenes."

"Y/N and I will stay and help Reid," Rossi offers.

"I'll take Prentiss and Morgan," Hotch says.

"Tell me, do you think this is a one-off or can I expect more films?" Lynne asks.

"It's not a one-off. The filming of his kills makes him a sexual psychopath. We'll find more, many more just like this one."

Derek, Emily, and Hotch leave to go to Michelle's crime scene while you, Rossi, and Spencer go back over the video that was sent to the police. It's weird to see someone write "help me" when they're considered a psychopath.

"It's weird because 'help me' is in direct conflict with the psychology of a psychopath, and it's something I've never seen before. Psychopaths don't have the capacity to feel empathy towards others. They can mimic it, but they can't feel it."

"Does that mean he didn't mean it?" Lynne asks.

"Could be or someone or something is showing him who he really is."

Penelope walks in with determination.

"Okay, friends, the video on this film is analog. It's since been digitized, but it is seriously degraded."

"Meaning what?" you ask.

"Meaning this kind of degradation only happens over at least a decade and thousands of repeated viewings."

"It's the only way he gets his release is if he watches it over and over again."

"Then you're right. He's been doing this for ten years."

"More like twenty," Penelope says. "That woman in this video is wearing a sweater I haven't seen since Flashdance."

Rossi looks over the evidence including Michelle's calendar book she used for everything since she was a real estate worker who needed to know when her appointments were.

"On the day of her death, Michelle entered the name Robert at four in the afternoon."

"We found no one connected to her with that name. We think it's an alias," Lynne says.

"Michelle's highly organized. She's left-handed because she's precise and light of hand. The hardest point is where she starts, the lightest point is where she tails off. In her case, she tails off to the right." Spencer looks deeper into what she wrote with confusion on his face. "This is weird."

"What is?" JJ asks.

"I'm not sure, but the number twenty-nine is circled twice in red ink and it tails off to the left. Whoever wrote that is right-handed."

JJ plays the video of the unsub right when he writes on the wall. He's writing with his right hand, and he's using red ink.

"The unsub is right-handed and he's using red ink. The unsub write this 'twenty-nine' and circled it."

"Guys, tomorrow's the 29th," Penelope says.

Whatever is going to happen, it's going to happen tomorrow. The camera keeps shaking as the unsub is recording this, and you take the remote from JJ to forward it to when the unsub encounters the two strangers by their car. They have no clue he is recording them because they don't notice a camera on him. If he's wearing glasses, he might not need a camera to hold.

"What if the unsub is recording through his glasses?" you say. "Maybe that's why no one ever saw it. If Michelle saw a camera, then she would have registered it in the video."

JJ's phone rings and she takes it off to the side. When she's done, she comes back into the room.

"Y/N's right. Derek and Em also think the unsub's camera is in the glasses. You need to get a sketch of the unsub out to every camera shop in Buffalo."

"If he hunts within a comfort zone, then whichever of these camera shops he visits the most will be the one he'll live closest to."

"I'll tell my guys," Lynne says and takes the picture of the unsub with her.

"Hotch also wants us to focus on victims found in controlled locations like secure areas with little chance of witnesses, and ones where he left the bodies where he killed them."

There are twenty-two files of women who were victims in the last ten or so years that you go through that fit secure locations with little to no witnesses.

"Based on that, I have Emily Flynn who was killed in June of 1998. She was found in her apartment and was stabbed twenty-three times. In March of 2000, Hilary Habner was stabbed eighteen times in her basement. Cindy Stagnal was stabbed multiple times in her office in April 2001. Finally, we have Vanessa Bright who was stabbed and found in her studio in May of 1999."

"1999 to 2001. Ladies and gentlemen, I think we have our timeline," you state. "It looks like our killer strikes almost exactly every twelve months."

"Oh, my god," Lynne gasps. "He got away with killing all these women."

"I think we need to inform the media. Buffalo has a serial killer," JJ warns.

You grab the remote and watch when the unsub talked to the older couple by their car. He keeps looking down at the ground several times. He takes two steps to the right, back, and to the left as if he's stepping over some kind of object that you can't see. He circled the 29th twice in red, and he turned the sink on and off twice previously.

This isn't a message. This is something he has to do. You rewind the video and play the interaction again when you see he's not stepping over invisible objects, it's the cracks in the sidewalk. He's stepping over them because he has to. He's obsessive-compulsive meaning no matter how hard he tries, he simply can't stop himself.

By writing "help me", he really means "stop me". This is only going to get worse before it gets better. Hotch gives JJ the okay to release this statement to the public, so Lynne is the face of the report to warn everyone about the dangers of the unsub. Not even twenty-four hours after that statement, another woman was killed, so you head over to where she was dumped. She was wrapped in a black trash bag and placed by the dumpsters, and the weird thing about her is that she doesn't fit the other victims at all.

"There is no purse, no jewelry, and nothing to ID her with," Detective Lynne says.

"She must have meant something to the unsub. He didn't care what was left behind on Michelle because he knew we wouldn't be able to trace her back to him."

"Why did he cover her up and fold her arms across her chest? She can't be more than twenty-four. This doesn't fit his victimology."

"Maybe she caught him in the act of something, so he killed her to keep his secret," you say. "The chest wounds match that of Michelle's. He probably knew her because of the way he wrapped her and the position he left her in."

"That's somewhat of a leap," Lynne says.

"Not when you consider this is the first time he dumped the body. Unlike the others, he brought her body here and dumped it."

"Someone will be missing her soon."

"Today's the 29th. He probably killed her last night. Whatever his plans are, he still has them. We're ready to give the profile."

Since there are so many officers on the scene, Lynne gathers them so you can give the profile out. Only you, Derek, Rossi, and Hotch are here. The rest are back at the station.

"We've confirmed eleven kills over a ten-year period. This makes twelve. All but one are blonde, white, and in their mid to late thirties. This unsub has extreme obsessive-compulsive disorder. This woman doesn't fit his victimology. He probably didn't target or even mean to kill her."

"Five camera shops in Buffalo were shown this sketch." Lynne holds up the sketch of the unsub. "The owner of Tarquinio's camera shop on Union Road recognized it. He knows him only as Vincent. He bought two three-millimeter mini wireless cameras and had them retrofitted to his glasses."

"He's well-versed in camera technology. He probably generates income from a related field, so stake out the shop but keep a low profile. He walks in off the street, politely waits his turn, and pays in cash. This is him." Hotch holds up the video shot of Vincent in the camera shop. "He's wearing a black overcoat and black baseball cap. You'll get more from your sketch."

"Now, this last kill shows the most remorse. This guy's mobile so he's most likely in a SUV that's low-profile and mute in color. He's beginning to devolve. His OCD will get worse and he'll have a hard time hiding it. He will take bigger and bigger risks to achieve his ultimate goal."

"In Michelle Watson's day planner, he circled the number twenty-nine. Today is the 29th. We believe he may have something planned for today. He sent us that film as his way of reaching out. He may be ambivalent, but his OCD won't let him stop. Now, if he sees a heavy police presence and he's not done, he'll run. The east side is his comfort zone. That is where he lives. However random, anything out of the ordinary, please let us know."

"Thank you very much." The group is disbanded and Hotch turns to Rossi. "Tell me again what the autopsy report said."

"He seems to be killing once a year. All of them but Michelle were overkill. He stabbed her just once. Plus, hers was the only one he sent footage of to the police. That's a definitive change."

"You're right. Call Reid and Prentiss. Tell them to go over the autopsy report again. We need to know why."

"I'm actually headed that way anyway. I'll catch them up," you say. "I'll call you if we find anything."

x

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