#he’s a wet spaghetti noodle okay

[cherrycola-and-lilac]

You may have one Marius Von Raum, As a treat 😌😌

#the mechanisms #the mechanisms fanart #marius von raum #drawing #chibi #blorbo #he’s a wet spaghetti noodle okay #tiny boy #silly lad

[mochinomnoms]

Hello I saw your event and got interested! I was wondering if you could do #24 with Idia (romantic, fluff, and suggestive if possible) with fem!reader?

idia shroud x f!reader [tags] – romantic, fluff, suggestive [wc} – 3, 241 prompt 24: “I'm so happy that you confessed first.” “Why?” “If I had to dig out another hydrangea petal from my teeth, I was gonna lose it.” notes - the only way to write idia is kind pathetic like a wet cat. i love pathetic men a floral inconvenience

According to legend, a Japanese emperor gave blue hydrangeas to the girl he loved, to apologize for neglecting her and to show how much he really cared for her. Their petal shape resembles a beating heart. 

Idia thinks that he was cursed in a past life for doing something awful. Maybe he kidnapped someone’s kid and tried to kill them. Maybe he tried to overthrow the gods and take over himself, but failed miserably. Or maybe, worst of all: broke someone’s limited-edition, vintage Tokyo Mew Mew Ichigo figurine. 

He sure as the underworld that he did something, why else would he be puking up hanahaki flowers like some cringey Canon x Reader fanfic? 

“Big Bro! You really should go to the school infirmary, the petals and stems can cause irritation and damage to the trachea and nasopharynx if not treated properly!”

Ortho was currently hovering over him, fretting like a mother hen over her chick. How ironic, Idia thought as he picked at the petals still in his teeth, it was for the little brother to be caring for the elder. 

“Why do that when I can just have the school delivery bots bring me medicine. Then I won’t have to interact with anyone, I’d literally DIE if anyone saw me like this…”

Especially if the Prefect saw him. The image of her sweet face, and beaming smile…like a scene from a shoujo manga, flooded his mind. He could practically hear her voice, full of concern, asking, “Are you okay, Idia?”

Idia fell into a sneezing fit, petals flying from his mouth and nose as his sneezes continued, one after the other, until he was also thrown into a hoarse, wet-sounding cough. 

“Big Bro! That’s it, you’re going to the nurse!” Ortho, despite being quite small, grabbed Idia by the back of his striped pajama shirt, much like one grabs a wet cat by the scruff of its neck. 

“UUuuuuuuuuuughghuguguguhidonwannaaaaaaaaAAAAAHHHh!” Idia cried out in a whiney, high-pitched tone. 

His brother, perhaps taking pity on his brother, took the shortcut to the infirmary, cutting directly pass the buildings and fields as Idia’s arms and legs loosely flew like cooked spaghetti noodles. Flying through the window that Nurse Goethel often kept open for fresh air, Ortho plopped Idia into a spare bed, who collapsed like a ragdoll into the thin mattress. 

“I’ll go check you in with the Nurse, I’ll be right back, please make yourself comfortable Idia!”

Idia gave a muffled grumble as a response, shoving his face further into the hard surface of the bed with a sense of dread. He could hear Ortho speak with Goethel at her desk. 

Well, he thought, at least she won’t see me looking all gross and lovesick like some normie—

“Idia, oh my god, are you sick?” 

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA—”

A shrill, ear-splitting shriek left his mouth as the flames of his hair blew up into a blazing hot pink. Idia bolted him, a sharp pain hitting the top of his head as he heard you yelp. As he rubbed the pained spot, Idia noticed that you too were rubbing your chin. Oh Sevens, he hit your chin with his big, stupid head. 

“Ooowwwww, damn Idia, you hit hard…” you hissed, though you gave him a sweet smile in reassurance. 

“It’s fine, I shouldn’t have scared you…though why are you covered in flowers?”

Idia froze, debating on whether or not he should open his mouth and potentially say something damning, or just stay quiet and hope you’d just get weirded out and leave. 

“Because he’s an idiot who didn’t come to immediately see me at the first petal cough!” 

The nurse came up to Idia with a disapproving glare, handing you a clipboard and pen before slipping on a clean pair of gloves. 

“Prefect, please check the boxes for every symptom I find. I believe I know what it is, but we need to check all our bases.” 

Idia peeked at you from the corner of his eye as you smiled at him, waving your fingers as the nurse whispered a spell to turn her magic pen into a makeshift flashlight. 

“Now, open up and say ‘ah’ so I can see what those flowers are doing to you.” 

Following her instructions, Idia tried his best to be a cooperative and willing patient, if just to get out of here faster. Unfortunately, your presence only seemed to make it harder to do so, as hydrangea flowers bloomed from the pores of his skin, focusing particularly around his hands and neck. 

The nurse, he’s sure, could also see the magic sparkles forming as a new bouquet formed through his throat and shot up his mouth. She tsked, leaning back to allow Idia to hack out the now decent sized hydrangea bouquet. They were a vibrant blue, much like his hair. 

“Ah, go, go on and let it out.” The nurse waved a hand at Ortho. “Dear, please fetch your brother a cup of the tea I have brewing at my desk. Prefect? Please note that the patient has no evidence of root growth in his throat.”

“Root growth!? Is my brother going to be okay?” Ortho worriedly rushed over, the tea spilling over the rim of the foam cup. “Is it a curse or disease? Is my brother growing a plant in his lungs!?”

“Ortho, you scanned me earlier this week, remember?” Idia hoarsely replied, taking the tea to gingerly sip at it. “Nothing in ‘em, or my stomach ‘cept ramen noods.”

“A WEEK?!” The three of you flinched at the shrill gasp of Goethel, who was glaring daggers at Idia. “Mr. Shroud, you’ve been sick with an unknown flora disease and you didn’t even bother to let the staff know? What if you were contagious!!”

Idia shrank into himself as he whispered, “It’s not like I leave my room…” 

“Bateria or the pollen could’ve gotten into the air vents and infected the rest of your dorm, ugh.” The nurse sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose before addressing you. “Miss Y/N, if you mark down the lack of root growth, fever, and magical origin of the flowers, what do you get?”

He watched as you flipped through the clipboard, smile slightly faltering as you read one of the papers. You cleared your face briefly, before smiling politely back at the nurse and Idia.

“Based on everything, it seems that Idia most likely has the flower sickness, also known as the love sickness, petal fever, or, most commonly, hanahaki.”

Idia cringed at the cold, monotone sound of your voice. Now he’d done it. You knew, somehow you knew that he had the biggest, fattest, most twitterpated-full crush on you. No, crush was understated. He had dreams of you, the cringiest, domestic fantasy-based shit where he’d imagine you, waking up in bed with him back at the Island of Woe. You had given him a sleepy smile as you curled into side, naked. With a smile and a kiss to his lips, dream you turned over to hover over him, trailing small kisses and love bites down his body, further and further as you whispered to him, over and over, “I love you, Idia—”

A queasy, dizzying feeling fell over Idia as a particularly painful croup caused him to double over and vomit last night's dinner alongside blue, heart-shaped petals. 

“Idia!”

“Big Brother!”

“Shroud—Prefect, hold his hair back! Ortho, grab the trashcan, I’ll go get some cleaning supplies and new sheets.”

Nurse Goethel barked orders to the other two, who quickly jumped into action. Idia could feel a shiver as he felt your hands softly grasp his flaming hair, fingers grazing his cheek as you tucked his bangs behind his ears. He could barely make out your coos, no doubt comforting him. You must be disgusted seeing him like this, having to care for a sopping wet cat of a man. Ortho was holding the trash can, right on time for Idia to hurl some more flowers and stomach acid. 

“Oh, Idia…you poor thing.” You whispered into his ear, unintentionally causing his body to warm up and a chill go down his spine to settle in his abdomen. He was very aware that if he turned his head to look at you, he’d get a faceful of your chest like some harem isekai protag, the thought making him warm further and his tips pink again. 

“I didn’t realize you were feeling this bad, Idia…” Ortho murmured, guilt in his voice. “I should’ve brought you sooner…”

“N-no…” Idia gravelly replied, wiping his mouth clean. “It’s not your fault Ortho, don’t beat yourself over it.”

Ortho still looked guilty, but nodded in affirmation, glancing at briefly at the Prefect. His gaze flitted between the two, and Idia could briefly see Ortho’s eyes go blank, as they did when searching through his knowledge database.

“Miss Prefect!” Ortho chirped, voice now perky much to Idia’s concern. “May I ask for a spare infirmary shirt for my brother? He must be very uncomfortable in his soiled one!”

Idia was now firmly and acutely aware of your hands still on him, thumb rubbing soothingly into his temple. 

“Oh, of course Ortho.” You moved away, hands hovering for just a moment, as you replied, “They’re in the storage, I’ll be right back!”

Idia watched as you walked away into the infirmary storage. Ortho did as well, waiting until you were out of earshot to excitedly whisper, “Idia! I know it’ll be an easy fix!”

“Huh?” Idia rose an eyebrow at his brother, confusion setting in.

“It’s a love sickness, and you love the Prefect—Idia stop looking at me like that—so if you confess to them, the flowers will go away!”

Idia was still giving Ortho a horrified look, as he continued. 

“Based on the timing of your reactions in correlation with close proximity within the Prefect, along with your increased heart rate at their touch, speech, and glances, and the fact that the Prefect stated on December 15th at 11:18:53 pm that she likes hydrangeas, she is the cause of the sickness. Right?”

“Ortho!’ Idia hissed, grabbing at his brother to shut him up despite Ortho not technically having a mouth. 

“Quiet down, this isn’t some otome game where I can cheat and look online for the right responses. Did you see how she reacted earlier when she found out it was hanahaki, how disappointed she looked? There’s no way Y/N—I mean the Prefect, didn’t connect the dots. 

“But, Big Brother!” Ortho whined, “Based on her heart rate and increased body temperature—”

“No is no, Ortho! It’s not going to be such an easy fix, I’ll just get rejected!”

“Technically speaking—” Idia and Ortho both jumped at the nurse’s voice, who was coming back from storage with clean linens. The Prefect followed with a new shirt.

“—you don’t need your beloved to accept your feelings, just confess them. Though it’s quite rare that it’s not reciprocated.”

The nurse motioned for Idia to get up as the Prefect handed him the shirt. She began taking the sheets off as the nurse addressed the two brothers. 

“Mr. Shroud, if you are insisting on keeping this sickness intact for fear of rejection, then I will have to ask Professor Crewel for some more potent ingredients for your prescription. Little Shroud?”

“Oh, yes Nurse Goethel?” 

“I could use your assistance, please come with me, Miss Y/N will tend to your brother,” She had a smug tone and smirk as she said this, motioning for Ortho to follow. “Mr. Shroud, please have no worry, she makes an excellent student nurse!” 

Idia let out a defeated, low, whiney groan as he moped over behind one of the privacy screens. You remained quiet as you collected the dirty sheets. He could hear Goethel’s footsteps and Ortho’s fans fade away as they left further and further down the hall. Idia yanked his shirt off, slipping the clean one over his head, noting it was a tad bit too small. He grumbled in annoyance as he pulled the shirt down to cover his stomach. 

“Idia?”

“Eeep!” Idia yelped, your voice coming from right behind the screen. “Y-yes?”

“Are you done changing? I can take your shirt to the hamper.”

He hummed in response, peeking his hand from behind the screen with the shirt in hand. As you took the shirt and walked away, Idia slowly moved to look at you. Once he was sure your eyes were firmly ahead (and briefly taking a look at your ass), he launched himself back into bed, the smell of clean linen filling his nose. 

Idia sighed, a faux exhaustion settling into his bones as he sunk into the bed. He tensed as he felt you sit on the edge to this right. 

“Idia?” you hummed as he closed his eyes to focus on the darkness behind them, instead of you worried expression. 

He hummed in response. 

“Nurse Goethel said that the remedy is actually quick and easy, right?”

He hummed again.  

“You’ll just keep coughing hydrangeas until you do something, right?”

“...Yea.” Idia replied in a monotone voice. 

You sighed, a bit in frustration he thinks. “So?”

“...So?”

“Why don’t you?” You stretched out the last vowel with a questioning sound.

“Why don’t I?” Idia mimicked you. 

"Why don't you just confess?"

“Wha?” He yelped, looking at you like you’d grown heads like a hydra. “W-what do y-you mean, confess!? Are you crazy?”

You rolled your eyes and sighed, “It would help, wouldn’t it? And Nurse Goethel said it’s rare for it to not be reciprocated, so what do you have to lose?”

“First of all, what’s left of my dignity. Second, I’m not some ML in a romance manhwa. And, third!” Idia straightened up to look you in the eyes, a burst of confidence filling his veins in pure frustration and annoyance. “There’s no way that anyone would be interested in some loser like me, so what’s the point—”

“But I like you!”

Silence fell between you two as the realization of your words settled into both your minds. You, with a growing blush and look of embarrassment, and Idia gaping at you like a fish out of water.”

“Huh.”

“I said,” You murmured, twiddling with the ends of your hair. “That I like you. A lot. I think you’re really fun to be around, you’re even though you're shy and kinda geeky, you’re really passionate about the stuff you like. Idia.”

Your hand reached for his, hesitantly like you were afraid you’d burn him. As you laced your fingers together, Idia felt a lump form in his throat. He kept silent though, watching as you smiled shyly. 

“You’re sweet to your brother, and I notice, to me sometimes too. Did you think I wouldn’t notice you coming out to class more often so we could hang? I missed you this week…it was really lonely without you, even with all my friends.”

Still holding his hand, you leaned in closer to his face, looking at him earnestly. Was this real? Did he unlock a secret route with you without noticing? Why did you keep looking at his lips? OMG WAS THIS REAL—

“Idia,” You snapped him out of his thoughts as the distance between you two kept closing. “If the person you like doesn’t return your feelings, then they didn’t deserve you in the first place. I’ll be there to support you, even if you don’t like me the same way, I’ll always care for you as your friend—”

“But it is you.” Idia blurted out. Whether it was due to a mysterious burst of energy or just a slip of the tongue, he didn’t know. 

“W-what! Idia, you don’t have to try and make me feel—” you tried to stutter an excuse, cheeks pink like the fiery tips of his hair. 

“It’s you! I got this cause of you, cause I knew—I thought,” Idia started to ramble, getting up to grab you by the shoulders and shake. “I thought that you couldn’t like some weirdo like me. Are you telling me I could’ve snatched an SSR level kiss scene with you at any time??!!”

It was your turn to be shocked, a bewildered look in your eyes and Idia rapidly spoke, taking little breaths between sentences.

“Do you know what you do to me?? The thoughts, the dreams I have about you? I see you and get all hot and bothered and you’re telling me that I didn’t have to be some maidenless normie this entire time? I could’ve been lockin’ lips and getting my dick we—”

A sharp shriek leaving Idia’s mouth was muffled as you shoved your lips into his, effectively shutting up his rant. He whimpered as you swiped your tongue along his lips, deepening the kiss as you wrapped your arms around his neck. Idia, perhaps in the throes of passion, or not wanting to miss out on this once in a lifetime pull, reciprocated, albeit with a nervous hesitation. 

You seemed to approve, pressing your chest against his as your mouth moved against his, tongues dancing and moans being shared between half taken breaths. His hands hovered over you until you let go of his neck to guide his hands and place them over your hips. An arousing moan left your lips as your hands gently pushed his chest. 

Idia’s world slightly shifted as he fell back first into the bed, your hair creating a curtain as you separated from him. A line of shiny spit followed you, breaking as he gasped for breath while you leaned back down to press kisses against his neck, flowering the disappearing hydrangeas. 

He yelped as your teeth scraped a particularly sensitive spot, opening his mouth to blurt out, “I'm so happy that you confessed first.” 

You let out a breathless giggle, turning your head and resting your chin on his neck to look up at him with, he swears on the Star Rouge sequel, hearts in your eyes. “Why?” 

“If I had to dig out another hydrangea petal from my teeth, I was gonna lose it.” Idia chuckled, “I’m sorry you have to deal with such a coward like me.”

“Idia.” You firmly responded, “Don’t. I like you as you are. We’re both young, we have time to grow. I’ll grow with you, if you’ll have me?

Looking down at you, practically on top of him, Idia opened his mouth to tease your softness, and suddenly froze. The mortifying, though wonderful he had to admit, scene was dawning on him as his entire body heated up and turned red. 

“Uuuuuwwwwwahaaahahahahaha—you’reontopofmethere’sagirlontopofmeisthisanewlevelinyourouteIdidn’tprepareforthis—mmmfph!”

You effectively shut him up with another kiss to his lips, smiling as Idia was shocked into silence with a dopy, wobbly smile forming on his lips.

“Relax, Idia, I’ll take the lead on all the romance stuff until you get the hang of it. For now you can be my player two!”

Idia snorted, smirking at you as he teased, “That’s such a cringey thing to say~”

“You say things like that all the time!” 

The two of you shared a soft laugh, unaware of the audience of two at the door watching. Ortho recorded the memory for the wedding he was already planning in his head, while the nurse muttered to herself about wasting time gathering ingredients for a prescription potion she no longer needed. Despite this, she smiled, happy that her little words of encouragement to the Prefect earlier worked. 

#twst #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #idia shroud #twst idia #idia x reader #idia shroud x reader #twst idia x reader #suggestive #a floral inconvenience

[underworld-park-offical]

TOLKIEN: Zzzzzzzzrzrzrzrrzzzz

TOLKIEN: Zzazzazazezezezezezrzrzzrrzrrr

PHONE: ♪ I'M A BARBIE GIRL ♪

PHONE: ♪ IN THE BARBIE WORLD ♪

PHONE: ♪ LIFE IN PLASTIC ♪

PHONE: ♪ IT'S FANTASTIC ♪

TOLKIEN: Huhhheheehdbfd…

TOLKIEN: Huh

TOLKIEN: What

TOLKIEN: What the fuck?

TOLKIEN: Why is my phone going off?

TOLKIEN: Are the fucking queers calling me again?

TOLKIEN: Eeeeyup its them

TOLKIEN: What

GARY: Have you ever been beaten by a wet spaghetti noodle by your girlfriend cuz she has a twin sister and you got confused and fucked her dad, well that’s how it feels to drive a Ford F-250. That sounds really cool. But you know what else is cool? The new 2020 Ford F-150, winner of 10 J.D. power awards. Perfect for hauling big things and going long distances. But you want to go offroad? Try the new Raptor Edition, which cannot just go offroad, it is perfect for going extreme off-roading. You can go rock climbing or across a desert, really quickly. It is also good for the great American thing - BBQs! In fact, you can haul MORE than one oven! That's pretty cool, huh? So hurry, and buy the new 2020 Ford F-150, now for sale at your local Ford dealership. RED: Wgat RED: Stop RED: Stop speaking BEBE: Girl get the tape from the backseat RED: Already on it NICHOLE: Heyyyy Tolkien NICHOLE: Did I wake you?

TOLKIEN: …

TOLKIEN: …

TOLKIEN: …

TOLKIEN: …

TOLKIEN: No..

NICHOLE: Oh NICHOLE: That’s  NICHOLE: That's good

TOLKIEN: What's going on

NICHOLE: So uhm NICHOLE: Ahahaha NICHOLE: Funny story

TOLKIEN: Nichole what did you do??

TOLKIEN: Did you fuckin

TOLKIEN: Commit fraud?

TOLKIEN: …

TOLKIEN: Again?

NICHOLE: What NICHOLE: No NICHOLE: Of course not NICHOLE: I am a law abiding citizen NICHOLE: Except for when it comes to the Barbie Movies

TOLKIEN: Okay? We’ve all  pirated a Barbie Movie

TOLKIEN: What makes you special?

TOLKIEN: If it's not fraud or piracy what did you even do

NICHOLE: There’s a sentient advertisement in our Porsche now

TOLKIEN: …

TOLKIEN: …

TOLKIEN: …

TOLKIEN: …

TOLKIEN: …

TOLKIEN: Excuse me?

NICHOLE: Yeah uh NICHOLE: We saw Gary NICHOLE: Or G-4R-Y if you wanna use his actual name? NICHOLE: Fuck I don't know anymore NICHOLE: He was walking in the cold for some reason? NICHOLE: And you know how he only speaks in ads?

TOLKIEN: We all do

BEBE: Wait BITCH do you think we could reprogram him to be like

BEBE: An ALEXA???

GARY: Need some music for that impromptu dance off? Ask Alexa to play songs or playlists from Prime Music and Spotify so you're always ready to show off your sweet moves-if that's what you call them ;) "Amazon Echo: Alec Baldwin and Missy Elliott Dance Party Commercial" via @popisms :https://www.popisms.com/TelevisionCommercial/126873/Amazon-Echo-Commercial-2016 GARY: I really don't want you to see me like this. You need some entrance music. Alexa, play Alex dance playlist. Playing Alex playlist. That's dance music? Alexa, play Pep Rally by Missy Elliott. Really? Perfect! I got a little something for you. It's beautiful. Does this mean I'm gonna be in your next video? Let me see what you got. (Lyrics) Anything you want me to (Lyrics) Pep rally, pep rally, pep rally Oh, this a pep rally Pep rally, pep rally, pep rally Bounce, biggity bounce, biggity-biggity bounce, bounce Where my clappers that stomp? Now rock with it Bounce, biggity bounce, biggity-biggity bounce via @popisms : https://www.popisms.com/TelevisionCommercial/126873/Amazon-Echo-Commercial-2016 GARY: I’m Gary! The Mormon who advertises! RED: I mean RED: I’ll become a mechanic if it gets him to stfu 💀💀💀 WENDY: No- RED- NO PUT THE WRENCH DOWN! RED: FUCK YOU GARY: The future. You used to chase it. Now you’re living in it. The Wavefront is an all-electric automobile that propels driving into a new era. With sleek, aerodynamic design, and ultrasonic sensors that prevent collisions, there’s no more getting left behind. Life’s short. Drive fast.  GARY: I’m Gary! The Mormon who advertises! RED: SHUT THE FUCK UP!! WENDY: RED!! NO!! BEBE: GIRLY POPS AS MUCH AS I LOVE YOU BEBE: I'M GONNA HIT A DEER IF YOU ALL DONT HUSH RED: WENDY LET ME GO I'M GONNA KILL HIM WENDY: WE ARE NOT KILLING THE AD NICHOLE: SHUT THE FUCK UP IM ON THE PHONE BEBE: SHUT THE FUCK UP I'M DRIVING!!!! RED: CAN I THROW HIM OUT OF THE FUCKING CAR??!?!?!?!?!? WENDY AND NICHOLE: NO!!! NICHOLE: Tolkien I'm gonna have to let you go NICHOLE: We might die- NICHOLE: RED PUT DOWN THE WRENCH YOU'RE GONNA KILL SOMEONE! RED: THAT'S THE GOAL!! GARY: As a parent, I want to know that my kids are safe wherever they are. That includes riding in the car. With the new Carpool Optic from Solar I can breathe easy knowing my kids will arrive where they need to safely – whether I am the driver or not. RED: AUGHHHH!!!!!! NICHOLE: I’m hanging up now NICHOLE: MMMMMMMMMOKAYBYE

TOLKIEN: Bye?

(Beep Beep Beep)

TOLKIEN: Jesus christ

TOLKIEN: (Yawn)

TOLKIEN: Man

KENNY: Hey

TOLKIEN: Ah!

TOLKIEN: Oh my god I got jumpscared by a fucking queer!

KENNY: Oh hardy har har har

KENNY: You got games on yo phone?

TOLKIEN: …

TOLKIEN: What

KENNY: Do you got games

KENNY: On yo phone

TOLKIEN: I mean like

TOLKIEN: I got like

TOLKIEN: Subway surfers??

TOLKIEN: If

TOLKIEN: If that works???

TOLKIEN: Uh

TOLKIEN: Ok?????

TOLKIEN: Here

KENNY: Thanks

KENNY: Oh yeah, can I call my sister while I play subway surfers?

KENNY: I gotta make sure she’s not

KENNY: Yknow

KENNY: Fuckin’ dead

TOLKIEN: No you’re gonna kill my damn battery

TOLKIEN: Just call your sister you dont need to play fucking subway surfers

KENNY: Fine

KENNY: Killjoy

TOLKIEN: Ugh

KAREN: I can't believe McDonald's served me that lukewarm fucking patty 

KAREN: And then had the AUDACITY to tell me KAREN: That it gets cold over time!?!?

KAREN: I think they just undercooked it ON PURPOSE to make ME look like an idiot

TRICIA: Damn, that's crazy

(🎵 KAREN METAL 🎵 )

KAREN: OH MY GOD

KAREN: WHO'S CALLING ME AT EXACTLY 1:59 IN THE MORNING?!?!?

TRICIA: Bro just say 2 AM 💀

TRICIA: …

TRICIA: I can’t believe I just said that out loud

KAREN: WHAT?!?!?

KENNY: Hi

KAREN: WHY ARE YOU CALLING ME?!?!?

KAREN: DO YOU KNOW HOW LATE IT IS?!?!?!

KAREN: I WANT TO SPEAK TO YOUR MANAGER

KENNY: Sis it's me

KAREN: UGHHHHH

KAREN: You missed your nail appointment

KENNY: Shiiiit that was today?

KAREN: You still owe me the money for it

KENNY: … KENNY: Karen, we don't have money, we’re poor

KAREN: Get a job

KENNY: …I do have a job

KAREN: Okay so then you have money?

KENNY: No

KAREN: That doesn't make sense

KENNY: Anyways- KENNY: You alive?

KAREN: Clearly

KENNY: Okay cool KENNY: So uh KENNY: There's demons around, I hope they find you and kill you and you die bye

KAREN: …What?

KAREN: Tricia do you know what the fuck he’s talking about?

TRICIA: No

TRICIA: Also stop calling on speakerphone

TRICIA: You remind me of my brother (derogatorily) 

TRICIA: …

TRICIA: WHY DO I KEEP DOING THAT!?!??!

TRICIA: UGHHH

TRICIA: I’m gonna go yell at my brother by cursing me into the influencer gene pool

TRICIA: You wanna come?

KAREN: If I get to yell at someone, of course

TRICIA: Be-

TRICIA: …

TRICIA: I'm not even gonna say that 

CRAIG: Who the fuck where you talking to

CRAIG: I feel like they were talking shit smh my head

KENNY: Oh just my bitch sister and your bitch sister

KENNY: Told her she was gonna die soon

CRAIG: LMAOOOO I’m dead 💀💀💀

KENNY: Lol it was funny she was so mad

TOLKIEN: I swear to god you guys are the same person sometimes

CRAIG: Smh my head no literally untrue

KENNY: Common Tolkien L

TOLKIEN: I want you both dead

CRAIG: …

KENNY: …

TRICIA: Okay where tf is blud

TRICIA: I'm gonna kill his ass

KAREN: Ugh

KAREN: He probably set up Kenny to fucking prank us

KAREN: Going to yell at them both when we find them

TRICIA: For real

TRICIA: Smh my fucking head

TRICIA: OH MY GOD CAN I STOP DOING THAT!?!?

KAREN: There's his door

KAREN: Should I kick it down?

TRICIA: No he will literally kill me

TRICIA: Instead we’re gonna go in his room

TRICIA: Steal all his shit

TRICIA: And fucking burn it

KAREN: Ohh yay! Property damage! My favorite!

TRICIA: Shhh shhh shhhh

TRICIA: Stfu

TRICIA: He’ll hear us

KAREN: No

KAREN: You're not the boss of me

TRICIA: Okay

TRICIA: On three

TRICIA: One- Two-

KAREN: THREE

KAREN: Ew it's so dark in here

KAREN: It smells like fucking Ccool Ranch Doritos in here

TRICIA: Shut the fuck up

TRICIA: He’s gonna hear you

TRICIA: I know where he keeps his Supreme hoodies

TRICIA: HOOOOOLY SHIT IS THAT A DEAD BODY!??!?!?!?

KAREN: AAAAAAAAAA!!!!!

KAREN: WE ARE GONNA DIE

KAREN: GET THE MANAGER!!

TRICIA: SHUT THE FUCK UP THE KILLER COULD STILL BE HERE YOU QUEERMO

GREGORY AND ESTELLA: Shhhhh he eepy

TRICIA: …

KAREN: …

TRICIA: …

KAREN: …

TRICIA: …

KAREN: …

TRICIA: …

KAREN: …

TRICIA: …

KAREN: …

TRICIA: …

KAREN: …

TRICIA: …

KAREN: …

KAREN AND TRICIA: AAAAAAAAAAA-

TRICIA: Okay

TRICIA: HAILLLL NAWHHHHH

KAREN: I’m calling the police

TRICIA: That is the smartest thing you could ever do

KAREN: Hello? 911?

KAREN: Hi yeah, there's some queers in our house

KAREN: Please come

KAREN: Bye

(Edits made by @pissblanket and @cattpup5)

#craig tucker #craigfluencer #hellpark #south park #south park edits #sp #southpark #underworld park #underworld park estella #underworld park tolkien #underworld park gregory #underworld park gary #underworld park hype house #underworld park thomas #underworld park tweek #underworld park clyde #underworld park cartman #team gregory cutie pie 3rd #gregory cutie pie vrs craig the real tucker #underworld park kenny #underworld park stan #underworld park kyle #blue haired cartman

[neverwanttofallasleep]

A Need That Goes Unspoken - Chapter 2

Word count: 3,461

For pairings, warnings, and disclaimer - see Masterpost

thank you again @writingcold x

“What about tuna pasta?” You ask.

A collective groan rings through the room. “That’s like the gourmet equivalent of Cup-A-Noodles, Y/N.” Alex complains, standing in the doorway and shaking the sand from his hair.

“Yeah. Keyword: gourmet.” You retort.

“Too boring.” Josh chimes in, hanging his beach towel over the back of a dining chair.

You huff. “Alright, I’m not cooking then.”

You catch Sam rolling his eyes from his seat at the dining table, and you quickly look away. He’s shirtless, hair still damp from the beach. You’re glad you didn’t go with them. You don’t think you could’ve suffered his snarky comments about your bathing suit, especially after his reaction to seeing you in pajamas last night.

“We can do a barbecue again?” Jake offers.

Josh shakes his head vigorously. “No.”

“Spaghetti and meatballs?” Alex suggests.

Everyone groans again. This is the only dish Alex knows how to cook.

“How about grilled fish and salad?” 

All heads turn to Sam.

“You gonna make it?” Josh asks, assuming the negative.

Sam gives a nod. “Yeah, Danny and I can.”

Danny chuckles. “Sounds like I don’t have a choice.”

“What time are the girls getting here?” Josh asks Jake.

“‘Bout three.”

Josh hums and looks at his phone. “Shit. That’s only, like, an hour away. Okay. Sam, you can go to the store, but I’m sending Y/N with you this time. I don’t trust you on your own.”

You open your mouth to protest, but Josh continues.

“If the girls are coming at three, Danny and Jake need to be at the house. We all need to shower, too. And Alex and I have some business to attend to.”

“What fucking business?” Sam objects.

“None of yours.” Alex smirks.

Sam ignores Alex and looks back to Josh. “Don’t we need you or Jake to come get the alcohol?”

Josh shakes his head. “We’re fully stocked. Alex and Y/N brought up a second cooler. We won’t need to get more for a few days.”

You try to keep your groan silent as you realize Josh’s plan. He’s purposely trying to get you alone with Sam so you’ll be forced to have a conversation. God, he and Danny must be in cahoots.

Sam tries again. “Neither of us have a car.”

“You can take the truck. Y/N drives it all the time.” Alex hunts in his pocket for his keys before placing them on the counter in front of you.

Sam stands up, huffing, before storming off to the bathroom.

“Really, Josh?” You say quietly.

Josh smiles. “It’ll be good for you both. Think of it as exposure therapy.”

“You’ll be using your rockstar money to pay for my actual therapy when we get back home.”

Josh chuckles. He sits down at the kitchen counter next to you, pulling out a pad and pen to write a shopping list.

You’ll suck it up, you decide. Listen to Danny. Be the bigger person. Sam would have nothing to hold against you if you were the one cooperating. It would just make him look like the asshole all the more.

Sam emerges from the bunk room about 20 minutes later, hair freshly wet and a clean outfit on. Another pair of short shorts and a ridiculously unbuttoned, busily patterned shirt.

“We going, or what?” He asks you, a look of distaste painting his features.

“Yep, just let me get my shoes.”

He rolls his eyes and leans back against the island, drumming his fingers on the countertop. You ignore him and head to the sunroom, sliding on your sandals and grabbing your purse and sunglasses from your suitcase. There’s no mirror in here, so you’ll just have to assume the sundress and loose braid you donned this morning are still holding up.

You head back out to the living room, before poking your head outside to look for Josh.

“Do we have shopping bags?” You call to him, as he and Alex lay on the grass, presumably suntanning.

He pops his head up. “Yep, under the sink.” You nod, shutting the screen door.

You turn to see Sam grabbing the bags, and you smirk when he looks up at you.

“What?” He scowls. “I’m just trying to make this torture end faster for the both of us.”

“Okay.” You nod, grabbing the list and Alex’s keys. “Let’s go.”

You’re both silent on the drive into town. When you’re barely out of the driveway, Sam rolls down the window to light a cigarette. You don’t say anything. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction. You’re sure he’s only smoking in the car so that you’ll tell him not to. It’s only a short drive, and you don’t hate the smell of smoke. Actually, you’ve always kind of liked it, not that Sam would know that.

You’ve only smoked cigarettes a few times, when Chloe and Bella had tried them at parties. You actually smoke weed more often now than you’d smoke a cigarette, but every so often you’ll have a drag from Jake or Josh if you’ve had enough to drink. Alex never picked up the habit, which you were grateful for, but it did mean you had to hide it from him when you did.

You try to sneak a few subtle glances at Sam as you drive. Thankfully, he’s looking out the passenger window, avoiding you as much as he possibly can in the confined space. You haven’t really been this close to him, or alone, for that matter, since your falling out. Is that what you’d call it? ‘Since he stopped speaking to you’ is probably more accurate. He hasn’t changed all that much, just that his once swoopy chestnut hair is now grown out and falling over his shoulders, his legs are longer, and his skin is more tanned than you remember. Are his arms kinda muscular now? Still lean, but there’s definitely some definition there. You shake the thought from your head and fix your gaze out the windscreen. Who cares what he looks like, anyway. He’s still a dick.

You pull into the parking lot of the small grocery store, grab your wallet and the list from your purse, and slide your sunglasses up onto your head.

“Give me some of the bags.” You say to Sam, as he goes to open the door.

“What? Why?”

“You get the stuff for dinner, and I’ll get everything else on the list. We can just meet up at the end.”

He nods, unable to argue with your plan, and hands you three empty bags.

“Meet back at the truck.” He says, before getting out and heading into the store with long strides, as if he can’t get away from you fast enough.

You breathe a sigh of relief, and wait a few moments before following him at your own pace.

You’ve always loved grocery shopping. It’s one of your simple pleasures. The endless possibilities lining the shelves, the excitement of trying something new. You weren’t kidding around with Josh when you said you’d love to go on a shopping trip with him. Although not the chef of the family (that would be Jake), Josh is a foodie through and through, and you’ve always had that in common. All the Kiszkas are good cooks, they just grew up in a household where that was the norm.

Despite not eating a meal he’d made for you since you were 15, it annoys you that you’re sure whatever Sam whips up tonight will be good, too.

You take your time perusing the aisles, not bothered about keeping Sam waiting. You make your way through the list, choosing some extra fancy olives for you and Josh to try. You look wistfully at the jars of pickles, ultimately deciding not to get any. You’d either be made fun of for having them all to yourself or have to share with Sam, and either option didn’t appeal to you.

The few times you spot Sam in the aisle you’re headed down, you skip past it, doubling back when he’s moved on. You know it’s childish, but why interact with him any more than absolutely necessary?

Once you’re sure you’ve grabbed everything on the list, you make your way to the register, placing the items on the conveyor as the clerk scans them through. As you’re pulling your card from your wallet, you look up to see Sam standing less than a foot from you, tapping his own card on the reader, smiling at the clerk.

“What are you doing?” You ask him blankly.

He replies without looking at you. “Josh told me to pay, he’s gonna send it back to me.”

“Oh.” You nod. “Okay.”

He walks away, leaving you with the bags. You smirk to yourself as you pick them up. You can only imagine how much having to pay for your groceries would’ve annoyed Sam.

You make it back to the truck and throw your bags into the tray. Sam is leaning against the hood, hair blowing in the warm breeze, sunglasses low on his nose, smoking another cigarette. You avoid looking at him, silently scolding the butterflies in your stomach that you have zero control over.

“Let’s get back.” You mutter, unlocking the door and slipping in. He drops his cigarette to the ground and steps on it, before following suit.

As you drive down the back road toward the cabin, all of the reasons you found Sam attractive in ninth grade come trickling back into your mind. You hate this feeling, knowing how much you dislike each other, yet unable to deny this physical attraction you feel for him. You were going to be having words with Josh when you got back to the house. Going out together not only solidified your animosity toward each other, but it somehow it made you feel some type of way about his physical appearance that you hadn’t felt in years, which really pissed you off. His outfit choices were still incredibly stupid and gaudy, but unfortunately, they didn’t do much to detract from his looks.

You’re brought out of your reverie by Sam yelling.

“Y/N! Watch out!” You feel his hand grip your forearm as you see a baby deer trotting out into the middle of the road.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” You shriek as you turn the wheel, hard, and slam the brakes. 

Everything is a blur, and it feels like minutes are passing before the truck comes to a stop with a hard thud, your head slamming back into the headrest.

You can’t breathe. Your seatbelt is pulled too tight across your chest, and your hands are gripping the steering wheel so hard you can feel a burn in your fingers.

“Y/N.” You can hear Sam, but he sounds far away. “Y/N.” You hear him again, but you can’t reply.

“We need to turn the car off. I’m gonna have to reach over your lap.” He says, but it sounds almost like a question.

Your eyes are glued out the windscreen, focused on nothing. You give the tiniest nod, but you can’t speak.

You hear the sound of the handbrake pulling up and feel Sam reach across you to turn the keys and pull them out of the ignition, before moving back to the passenger’s side and opening the door to get out.

You don’t know how long you’re sitting there, unable to focus your eyes, your fingers going numb. You vaguely recognize the sound of Sam on the phone, then a car stopping, and men’s voices talking. In your peripheral, you see Sam and a stranger walk around the front of the truck, inspecting the damage, and then walk away again. Eventually, the talking stops, and you hear the other car drive away. The driver’s side door opens, and you feel warm fingers pry yours from the steering wheel, placing your hands in your lap, and reaching over you to unbuckle your seatbelt.

“Are you okay?” Sam’s voice rings in your ears, and silent tears start pouring down your cheeks. You catch your head in your hands as you start to heave in breaths.

“You’re okay, we’re okay,” Sam mutters, and you can hear the pity in his voice, which makes you cry harder.

When you can suck in a breath, you look up and ask him, “What did I hit?”

“Just a tree stump. Fucked up the fender pretty bad, but I think the truck’ll be alright.”

You let out a sharp sob, and neither of you speak for a moment. Finally, in the tiniest voice, you admit, “I’ve never been in a car accident before.”

He places a hand on your knee, and you stare at it with wide eyes. You can almost feel him questioning the decision, but he doesn’t move it.

“The first one is the scariest.” The softness in his voice sounds so foreign, but familiar at the same time. “But we’re both fine, you didn’t hit the deer, and I think the car is fine too. I’m gonna try to drive it back, when you’re okay to move.”

“Did you call Alex?”

“Yeah. They offered to drive over, but we’re only about a mile from the house. I said I’d call back if I can’t get it started again.”

You give him a small nod. “Thanks.”

He doesn’t reply.

You try to slow your breathing, closing your eyes and counting to ten. Sam doesn’t remove his hand. It’s still, he’s not petting you or anything, but it provides just as much comfort as if he was. Once your tears stop and you can open your eyes, you give him a weak smile before sliding across the bench to the passenger seat. His hand drops back down to his side.

“You alright?” He asks again.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Are you?” In all your panic, you forgot to ask him the same question.

“I’m good.” He gives you a small smile and climbs back into the truck.

Sam manages to get the truck started and gently reverses away from the tree stump, the sound of shrieking metal ringing in your ears. The engine makes an unfamiliar rattling noise as you pull back out into the road, which makes your heart begin to race. Fuck, Alex was going to kill you.

You’re both silent as you head toward the house. Sam drives slowly, presumably worried about the truck’s condition and also trying to avoid any more deer, but even at a snail’s pace, the movement of the vehicle still makes you feel nauseous. You squeeze your eyes shut until you hear the engine turn off and feel Sam’s hand come to rest on your knee once again.

“We’re back.” He says softly. “I’m gonna go in and get Alex.”

You nod, and he leaves you in the truck, alone.

The next half hour is a flurry of commotion and ‘are you okay’s and ‘fuck we were so worried about you’s. Alex immediately snaps into parent mode, as he helps you down from the truck, your legs buckling a little. He keeps his arm firmly around your waist as he walks you into the house, sitting you down on the couch.

He checks the back of your head, which is now starting to hurt, and Josh wraps up an ice pack in a dish towel and softly places it on your neck.

“Try not to move too much.” He tells you, placing your water bottle in front of you on the coffee table. “What happened, were you two arguing?” He tries to joke, but Alex shoots him a dirty look.

Eloise, being a first-year nursing student, gently examines you and Sam both, checking to make sure you don’t have concussions or whiplash. You vaguely hear her mention to Sam that he should take some Tylenol and lie down, before instructing you to do the same. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you worry about Sam. Was he hurt? Did he panic, too? Did he just put on a brave face for you? You feel guilty all over again.

Phoebe helps you to the sunroom to take off your shoes and dress and put on some pajamas, as you hear Eloise telling Alex and the twins that she thinks you’re just in shock, and sleep should help you. She’s not worried about a concussion, which makes you feel a little relieved. You feel guilty that you didn’t get to give the girls a proper greeting, but they’re both so kind to you, and they help you settle into bed. Phoebe refills your water and hands you some pills as Eloise draws the curtains.

“What’s the time?” You mutter.

“About 4.30, babe.” Phoebe strokes your hair.

“Is Sam okay?” You ask Eloise as she lingers in the doorway.

“You’re both fine. You just need to rest, your bodies went through a little trauma. You can get up and eat with us later if you feel up to it.”

You hum, and they both leave, shutting the door softly behind them. You can hear murmuring in the living room outside your door, and it lulls you into a deep sleep.

When you wake, you can see a little golden light peeking through under the curtain. You roll onto your back to stretch, and realize all of the muscles in your neck and fingers are aching. You groan.

You sit up, swinging your legs over the edge of the pull-out sofa and wincing at the pain, which you can now feel in your arms, legs, and abdomen, too. You get up and slowly pad toward your open suitcase, hunting for a sweatshirt. It’s not cold, but you have the urge to be comfortable right now. You find one and throw it on, and head out into the living area. 

It’s empty, but you can smell food, and you can hear faint voices from the garden. You make a quick pit stop at the bathroom to pee and tidy up your hair, before making your way outside.

“There she is!” Josh calls, and everyone at the table turns to look up at you. Alex immediately springs out of his chair and rushes over.

“How are you feeling?” He asks, looking you over, as if new wounds might have appeared while you were asleep.

“I’m okay.”

“Are you sore?” Eloise calls up from the table.

You give her a questioning look. “Yeah, I am. Why is that? I only hit my head.”

She gives you a sympathetic smile. “It’s from the shock. Your whole body would’ve tensed up, and you wouldn’t have been able to feel it at the time. It’ll feel like you’ve done a hard workout for a few days.”

You nod. That makes sense.

“Do you need some pain medicine?” Alex asks.

“What’s the time?” 

He checks his watch. “8.15.”

You glance at Eloise. “Yeah, you’re good to take more now. Try and have a whole glass of water, too, if you can.”

Alex follows you inside and lingers in the kitchen while you get some Tylenol from your room and pull a fresh bottle of water from the fridge.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” He asks again, leaning back against the counter.

“I’m fine, Alex. It just gave me a fright, is all.” You smile at him before throwing back the pills.

He nods.

“I’m so sorry about the truck. I’ll pay for the repairs.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t worry about the truck. I’m only worried about making sure you’re okay. I’m not letting you out of my sight for the rest of this trip.”

You chuckle. “You won’t need to worry about that. I won’t be driving for the foreseeable future.”

He frowns. “You’ll be fine, eventually. You just need to look after yourself for the next few days.”

You nod. “I know. Did you call Mom?”

He grins sheepishly. “Yeah. She and Dad almost got in the car and came up here, but I talked them out of it. Said I’d bring you home if you wanted that.” He frowns again. “Do you want me to take you home?”

You think about Sam for a moment. In some twisted way, being in the accident together brought you closer than you’ve been in years. Some kind of wall was brought down, in that moment when he comforted you. There’s a small part of you that’s worried about him and wants to make sure he’s okay, and even smaller part that wonders, if you do stay, could this be the chance to repair things between the two of you?

You shake your head. “No, I want to stay.”

Alex breathes a sigh of relief. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

Chapter 3

@ohgodthefeeling-gvf@profitofthedune @sinarainbows @klarxtr @jakesgrapejuice @gretavangroupie @mackalah @clairesjointshurt @writingcold @alwaysonthemend @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @hi-hi-hello11 @dont-go-home-without-me @gvfpal @freefallthoughts

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#greta van fleet #sam kiszka #josh kiszka #danny wagner #this is fiction #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet smut #gvf fic #jake kiszka #sam kiszka x reader #sam gvf #gvf smut

[itwasthereaminuteago]

Congratulations for your milestone! 🤩

if there's still any available slots for drabbles, can I ask for soft dom Frank with the following prompt, please: "what's the matter, love? you get nervous when i look at you like this?"

sending you love bby🤍❤️🤍

@sweetieswiftie here you are lovely, I hope it's okay, I got carried away a bit, lol!

|| Ding ding, round two ||

Frank Castle x female Reader

Rating: E for explicit 18+

Tags/warnings: trainer & student, swearing, praise kink, soft!Dom Frank, smut, mention of fingering, cunniligus, unprotected p in v sex (wrap it before ya tap it!).

Your arms were beginning to feel like spaghetti noodles, knuckles and wrists like mashed jelly, and your lungs collapsing like a wet paper bag after almost an hour and a half of gruelling boxing practice. There weren't many places on your body free of sweat and you were

so. fucking. tired.

You were done.

But he wasn't.

"Nah nah, don't quit on me now girl, ten more, c'mon!

You swore into the bag as you forced yourself to land another four punches in quick succession, gasping for breath that wasn't there as you felt your body just wanting to lay down and die on the mat.

"Yeah! Attagirl, c'mon just gimme six more and your done."

"I'm...f-fucking done now Frank... jesus...shit" you panted, winding your arm back and landing a completely shit blow that glanced off the side of the bag.

"Pathetic. I know you got more in you sweetheart, don't lose your form." He sidled up next to you, lifting your elbow up from where it had dropped down. "Good. Now, six more."

You screamed as you suddenly just let loose a flurry of punches into the leather, who knew if it was six or fucking six hundred but you had your teeth grit and chest heaving, rage like a mask on your face as you stood almost growling once you had finished, fists still clenched and staring Frank down.

And he was... he was looking right back at you. But not just looking, he was outright lusting, he was drinking you up, eyes roving over every glistening inch of you as you fought to get your breath back.

"What's the matter love, you get nervous when I look at you like this?"

You swallowed what little spit you had left in your mouth. If it was anyone else had said that you'd have kicked them straight in the balls. But this was Frank.

You'd be lying if you said you'd never thought about him in a non-professional way, as if he wasn't your trainer and you weren't his student. Yep, you'd be lying if you said you'd never touched yourself in the showers after practice when no-one was around, or at home in your bed, or that one time in the toilets at work because you just couldn't shake the thought of him in control of you, wrestling you down to the mat and calling you his good girl as took you apart...

"No, not nervous..." you tried to say nonchalantly, but the words squeaked out instead.

Frank walked up to the bag, up to you, stilling it in his huge hands. "Not nervous, huh?" he husked near you. "Ain't sure I believe you sweetheart."

You fidget with the loose end of your wrist wraps as you force yourself to look at him.

"Did so well for me today," he says, voice dark and molten, his praise pouring over you like warm honey. He gently takes your hand and starts unwrapping the tape, unwrapping your defenses, all you can do is stand there and let him.

"I... you don't have to do that-"

"Yea I know, but I want to. Do you want that too?" The end of wrap falls away and he's carefully massaging your knuckles and wrists, lifting your hand to his lips and placing a soft kiss on your fingers. "...for me to take care of you darlin'?"

The sound of the hot shower spray on the tiles does little to mask your desperate whines as Frank buries his face between your thighs. He'd already had you cumming on his fingers, hand down your shorts right there on the mat in the empty gym after you'd nodded emphatically to his irresistible offer.

You think I don't notice the way you react when I let you know you've done a good job? So damn cute how shy ya get... yeah just like that, such a good girl...

And it didn't take long until you were pushing and pulling him into the locker room, trying to shred his and your own clothes in your need to get more of him and now.

Still got some fight in ya huh? Yeah, take it out on me darlin'.

You moaned at his mouth on your salty skin as he pulled the damp fabric of your gym kit off you, kissing, licking, sucking marks into your skin which you did your best to return. He was still clothed as he carried you into the shower stall and turned it on, chuckling as you pawed at him, grinding against the thigh he had slotted between your own.

But now he's on his knees, holding you up with those unbelievably strong arms as he licks the soul out of you. You scrunch your fingers into his long hair, and he grunts when you tug it as he does whatever it is he does with his mouth that makes you choke out a gasp. Your thighs shake as you feel yourself getting close, but the urge to have him fuck you is stronger and wins out. He looks confused and concerned as you shove him away, and also fucking hot as hell with his hair over his face, wet and curling slightly under the spray.

"You okay, want me to stop?" he asks looking up at you.

You wrench him up to stand, tugging his soaked shirt up over his abs until he peels it off, and you trail your hands over and down his chest and abs until they're tentatively brushing over his tented shorts.

"No, don't stop... I just need- I can't wait..." you just want him to ruin you.

He tips your chin up with a finger. "You want me to fuck you baby?"

You nod and lick your lips, closing your hand around his cock.

"Mm, anything for you princess," he drawls, dropping and kicking off his shorts and pressing you up against the tiled wall. You hike a leg up and he runs the tip of his cock through your folds. You grip the back of his neck, staring him straight in the eye as he pushes insanely slowly inside. A long satisfied moan spills from your lips as he fills you. God he feels so good, so much better than you'd dreamed.

"Like that? This what you wanted babygirl? I've been thinkin' bout this since the first time I laid eyes on you."

You didn't even realise you'd said it out loud but you were glad you did, the way he was holding you up, his head tucked in against your neck as he moved inside you. Yes, he might have been fucking you up against a wall but god he was so tender, you were sure he could break your back if he wanted but he was being so soft with you, making love to you.

"Frank..." you said with a sigh.

He kept the languid pace, "sweetheart?"

You kissed his cheek, the corner of his mouth, and he turned his head to meet your lips. You hadn't even kissed yet, this was the first and again he took his time, his lips soft and the hairs of his beard brushing your jaw. He pushed the tip of his tongue between your lips and you let him in. He thrust deep at the same time making you moan, the water from the shower running in rivulets down your faces making your lips and tongue glide so easily against one another you were overcome with sensation.

You pulled him closer, squeezed your legs tighter around him.

"Shit, careful honey, you're gonna be the end of me..."

You laughed a little, "can't have that, want to do this again sometime."

"Yeah, god damn right..." He took your hand you had curled around his neck, guiding it down between your bodies. You jolted like electricity zipped its way from your head to your toes as you touched yourself, dizzy with double the intensity of feeling.

"That's it princess," he growled as you panted little whines and whimpers next to his ear, "so fuckin' sweet..." He could feel you tightening up around him as you got close, tilting your hips against every thrust he gave you.

"You fuck like you fight," he said, groaning and watching you like a hawk as you arched your back off the wall and dug your nails into his shoulder. "You gonna give it up sweetheart?"

You nipped at his ear, "Mm not until you tell me to."

You saw the tic in his jaw muscle as he was trying to stay in control, your words sending him for a loop and he just can't hold on anymore.

"aw shit- I can't.. you gotta come for me now baby..."

Your mouth dropped open, eyes screwing shut, breath high and reedy as your head lolled back against the tile as pleasure in the extreme ripped through you, "fuck, yeah, that's it, attagirl-"

You might have cried out his name, you can't tell, can only feel him against you and inside you as he comes hard, murmuring incoherently into your neck.

He lets you down carefully, withdrawing, and you can't help but sink to the ground. He follows you down and kisses you soft as you both sit in a heap.

"You okay, love?" he asks, his voice rough and warm as he runs his hand down your arm.

You nod, bringing a hand to his face and scratching through his beard over his jaw.

"Yeah," you smile, feeling dog-tired but oh so happy, "can't wait for our next session."

#350 followers #frank castle x reader #the punisher x reader #frank castle x you #frank castle smut #soft!dom frank castle #smewchuals #frank castle x female reader

[neonponders]

Part 15 for @wrecked-fuse ‘s pocketverse 🍝

Part 14 & art 💨

(Part 9′s art ) ( pt. 7′s art )

~ on ao3 ~

• • •

Billy watched with dubious eyes as Steve dumped the white queso into the pot. When Steve reached for the salsa jar, he outright grabbed Steve’s elbow. “Absolutely not.”

“It’s the same thing.”

“Like hell it is.”

“Tomatoes? Onions? Peppers? Same stuff that goes into a spaghetti sauce. I’m not adding a lot. This is just for spice. It’s like mixing an alfredo and a tomato sauce together to make a blush. It works, I promise.”

He lifted his elbow out of Billy’s hand, at the consequence of a skeptical grimace. Steve dropped a spoonful of salsa into the pot, and ladled some pasta water over all of it to help it melt and mix. Billy tore his eyes off of Steve’s mad science into order to watch little Steve dancing next to the salt jar, on which small Billy sat kicking his feet and eating a cheerio dipped in yogurt.

“Noodwe time. Noodwe time. Gonna eat some noodwes. Purpwe beans. Purpwe beans. Good for Biwwy’s tummy pwease.”

Despite his best effort, Billy huffed a laugh and rubbed one of his eyes. As the minutes crawled by, he slowly leaned further and further into Steve’s space to see into the pot. Admittedly, it looked like a creamy pasta sauce...plus the addition of black beans and fresh tomatoes. “Where’s the meat?”

“I haven’t been to the store in a few days,” Steve said as answer.

Billy sighed as the colander of pasta got dumped into the pot. “I’ll get groceries tomorrow. Maybe a better pantry will spawn better recipes.”

Steve stabbed a fork into the pot and held it up like an offering and threat simultaneously. “That’s a lot of talk for not knowing what you’re talking about.”

Never one to refuse a challenge, Billy took the fork and popped the egg noodles into his...mouth...

Steve watched him out of the corner of his eye with a smirk tilting his lips. He left Billy to his thoughts as he set a noodle on a dish with a couple of beans and tomato chunks for small Billy and Steve to start feasting.

With the little ones satisfied, he pulled some bowls from the cabinet and rallied Robin and Max before leaning back against the island counter. “Do I get to be told that I was right?”

Billy gestured with the fork as he declared, “No. There’s nothing right about this.”

“Uh huh. Why are you reaching for a bowl?”

“There’s a lot of shit in this world that isn’t right, but here we are.”

Steve snickered and filled his bowl last. By this time, the littles had finished their noodle, so Steve got them a wet cloth to wash their hands and opened a tube of antiseptic gel from the drawer of miscellaneous things. “Come ‘ere, lil man. Let me see your hand.”

Little Steve held up the hand that had touched glue. It looked more or less fine, if a little pinker than his other palm. Steve rubbed the thick gel on the pad of his finger and offered it out. The thin layer was enough to transfer an adequate amount to the tiny hand. “Let that sink into your skin, okay?”

“Wike wotion?”

“Yep, just like lotion.”

“Mmkay. Thank you, Stevie. Big Biwwy?”

He looked up with cheeks guiltily full of pasta. “Hm?”

“Can I west in your pocket? I’m sweepy and you’rwe warm.”

He swallowed thickly and held out his hand. Once slotted into Billy’s breast pocket, Steve stood up and called, “Biwwy? Are you okay?”

Little Billy yawned and rubbed his eyes. “I’m sweepy too.”

Big Steve offered his hand and the little one stepped onto it. He reached for their bedroom as he asked, “Do you want to sleep with a view?”

“No. The sky’s wonely without Stevie to see it with me. Pocket?”

“Sure.” And Billy gratefully nestled inside Steve’s shirt pocket.

They still ate outside, though, since it was a refreshing night and the cooler air would help the littles from getting too stuffy in the pockets. Billy peered at Steve when he took the lounge chair next to him. At the look on his face, Steve explained, “Listen, mini me might like sleeping in your boob, but if he wakes up and mini you isn’t nearby, my ear drums will never recover.”

Billy’s chuckle came from deep in his chest, causing Steve’s eyes to soften as he tried to focus on his dinner. “Are you really making a grocery run or was that just hot air?”

Billy swallowed and confirmed, “I get paid after my shift. This time tomorrow, I’ll be wandering the aisles anyway. It’s never a dull evening at the store.”

“The scaries come out at night.”

Robin warned, “Outcasts usually have a valid reason for keeping to themselves during the day.”

Billy sassed, “How tolerant, Buckley.”

She smiled. “So you’re one of them? That’s nice.”

Max barely contained her mirth at the sight of her brother’s annoyed face. He soon deflected, “Sometimes it’s a party in there. Like everyone in town finished their shifts at the same time. Usually it’s peaceful.”

Robin suggested, “The little guys might like to go with you. Or Steve could meet you there with them. They’re gonna get bored eventually, only seeing the house and video store all the time.”

Steve agreed, with the caveat, “Either you or Max needs to teach them how to ride those toy bikes. We gotta tucker ‘em out before adventures.”

“Why not the skateboard?” Max asked.

It was Billy who responded, “Let’s give him an easy day after a hard one.”

She blinked softly, seeming to think over that before she nodded and kept eating. Robin, meanwhile, announced, “We could have our first conversation without the little monsters. So, Hargrove: top three movies. Go.”

“Aliens, Rocky, and...maybe Animal House or The Birds.”

“The Birds?” Steve wondered aloud. “That’s different.”

“My mom liked Hitchcock, theater, and Marilyn Monroe. Don’t ask me about Gentlemen Prefer Blondes.”

Steve grinned around chewing while Robin admitted, “I expected you to say Jaws.”

He shook his head and his tone had gravel in it. “Surfers know more about sharks than anyone who watches that shit movie.”

Robin turned to Max to answer her own favorite movies. “Probably...Aliens, Halloween, and Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.”

That got a snort from Billy, and her snapping, “It’s better than Animal House.”

Robin hushed, “Settle, siblings, settle. You’re dangerously close to having the same taste in movies. We could show the littles the Chocolate Factory, but we’d have to get the hell out of there before the river boat scene.”

Silence eclipsed the conversation as they each mulled over that, and the quiet snores from two pockets made them break the silence with laughter. Billy admitted, “I guess we’ve dealt with nightmares once already.”

All things considered, a bad afternoon turned into a pleasant night.

The time came for Billy and Max to leave, so they predictably dumped their dishes in the kitchen sink for someone else to clean up, and headed out. Steve and Robin looked at the stack of dishes and the latter realized Steve was staring at her. “What? Oh, just because you cooked, I have to clean?”

“Yeah. It’s called playing fair.”

She rolled her eyes but turned the faucet on. Steve reached into his pocket and carefully scooped up little Billy to tuck him into his shoebox bed...

Little Steve wasn’t in the other bed.

“Oh, shit! ”

“Steve?” Robin called, but he was already sprinting out of the house.

The Camaro rumbled in the driveway, far enough out of the Harringtons’ driveway that Billy had already reversed onto the street the car purred into a roar as he shifted gears and -

“BILLY! WAIT!”

He frowned and looked in his rearview mirror. Moving the stick into park, Billy rolled his window all the way down as Steve ran up to them. “You’re extremely lucky I didn’t have my music on. What’s the matter with you?”

Steve exhaled raggedly with his hands on the windowsill. “Me. In your pocket. Steve’s in your pocket.”

That wiped Billy’s features of any annoyance or humor at Steve’s expense. Sure enough, he pulled the hem of his pocket out, and little Steve rolled with the fabric movement. He was so deep in sleep that his jaw hung open. “This little guy is out.”

“Please give him back.”

“Well, come in here and get him.”

Just like Billy, Steve didn’t refuse a challenge. He reached right into Billy’s car and pocket, gently rubbing small Steve’s arm to warn him through the layers of sleep that change was coming. Then he carefully scooped him out, eliciting a groggy whine, but nothing else.

As Steve’s fingernails scratched the fabric of his shirt, Billy chided, “Hey, there’s a nipple under there.”

“You’re welcome,” he teased, but otherwise busied himself with securing small Steve in the cradle of his hands. “Thanks. He sorta means a lot to me. They both do.”

It was hard to say whether Billy nodded or shifted his weight, and his head simply bobbed with the movement. But he agreed, “He’s a good little guy. Even my high maintenance mini me.”

Steve smiled, “He’s all right. He’s brave, even by regular sized standards. He’s ready to fight god half the time.”

But Billy blinked softly up at him. “And the other half of the time?”

Perhaps to both of their surprise, Steve shrugged like it was no big deal. “He’s sweet. And kind of scary observant. It’s easy to forget that they’re new to the world because of how much B picks up. Oh, and I get off work at ten tomorrow, unless that’s too late for you?”

Billy sniffed and his eyes strayed back to the road. “It’s fine.”

“Will you be home already? I can pick you - ”

“Just don’t make me wait at the store,” Billy finished. A rev of the engine was the only other warning Steve got, then he stepped back, and watching the Camaro drive down the street and turn out of sight at the stop sign.

In the car, Max said bluntly, “Gross.”

“There’s nothing to discuss, Maxine. So long as you understand.”

“I understand,” she disregarded his threat. “I’m not bothered by it being Steve. It’s just gross that anyone likes you.”

“It’s not a good idea for little girls to walk home in the dark.”

“It sure isn’t,” she called his bluff, and turned the radio onto his favorite station.

#i give you *chef's kiss* americana-wtf-cuisine #i've actually made this and it's good #harringrove #wrecked-fuse #neonponders #pocketverse #pocket!au #like magnets

[wine4thewin]

Recent chapters in JJK have me scratching my head. What on earth is the endgame here, now that many of the strongest players on the “good side” have gotten put in their forever boxes coffins?

This thing is giving me strong Game of Thrones murder vibes right now, and I am going to be annoyed if Gege magically Jon Snow’s everyone he just offed out of the character abyss.

Garbage musings below the cut to save your sanity.

Unless Sukuna has a major malfunction upcoming, he is going to slam everyone he hasn’t already slammed. He’s going to go crown himself king again, and good for him, he deserves it for whipping everyone like they’re made of wet noodles and stank rags. Gojo, seriously, wtf? You let him out-arrogant, out-ego, and out-power you.

Seeing as we all originally thought this story revolved around Yuuji apparently it doesn’t, the only thing I can imagine here for him is some Yu Yu Hakusho style training arc, where Yuuji goes on a tortured soul-searching training but for like ten years, okay Yuuji, sorry you just aren’t that badass yet and maybe comes close to yanking Sukuna out of Megumi like a worm out of a severely rotted apple. I mean. Assuming Megumi has a body left at this point, but I digress. But realistically, by the time Yuuji is strong enough to take on Sukuna, it will be too late.

Or…perhaps Plot Torture Lord Gege never intends Yuuji to fight Sukuna and win, because it simply isn’t possible, seeing as we got verbally flogged by yet another rendition of “did you become the strongest or were you born this way” line.

Perhaps Yuuji is meant to be Sukuna’s forever box coffin and nothing more…which is perfectly angsty and full of self-sacrifice if the only way to beat Sukuna is to cage him again and then end Yuuji 😨 Sorry Yuuji, Kenjaku kinda made you into a living breathing trap even though you were supposed to be a legit vessel.

…and Kenjaku has got to be somewhat miffed that his perfect creation has been ditched. He literally GAVE BIRTH to Yuuji for Sukuna to inhabit and Sukuna is like ‘no thanks bro, your brat is trash and he doesn’t let me do what I want to do.’

Then again, Kenjaku really wanted Gojo out of the way…he probably doesn’t care if Sukuna persists in the world much longer now that the goal has been accomplished? Maybe?

This manga has taken some strange turns and I’m terrified this will turn into some never ending Naruto tale, I am too bloody old to check in on a manga of that size, alright? 700 chapters is too much, Gege!

Lastly, Kashimo, why are you asking Sukuna such stupid questions right before he snaps you like dried spaghetti? That man has never been lonely a minute in his unnatural life, get with the program.

…and I made a meme to conclude my thoughts.

This ramble is probably plagued. So ends my musings.

#jjk manga spoilers #jjk chapter 237 #jjk #fandom thoughts #pack up and go home kids Godzilla is on rampage #jujutsu kaisen #sukuna #jujutsu kaisen manga #my memes

[captainnameless]

What does a little lando tantrum consist of 🥺

all you people want lately is for my poor baby to have a tantrum 🥲 perhaps it’s his luck this season and the therefore expected ones but maybe we should give the baby a break, give him a cuddle and a flurry.

but fine, still i shall feed the masses:

“No!” It’s all Lando’s vocabulary seems to consist of right now, all other English apparently lost.

“Lando-.”

“NO.”

Daniel sighs, still stood at the passenger side of the car, door open, Lando still inside with his seatbelt fastened. He’s grateful for the property he rented, private enough for this kind of meltdown to not attract any unwanted attention.

Daniel crouches down, trying to catch Lando’s eyes.

“Sweet boy-.”

“No!”

Daniel’s cut off basically before the sentence starts but he does meet Lando’s eyes. There’s an angry frown etched into his features, his eyes are shiny; tears just barely keeping from spilling over.

“You’re not a sweet boy?”

“No.” Lando shakes his head angrily.

“With a face so sour I’d almost believe you.” Daniel replies. “But I know better.”

Lando doesn’t reply, kicks one of his feet against the dashboard instead.

“Hey.” Daniel replies, reaching out to still Lando’s leg. “Don’t do that.”

Defiantly, Lando kicks it again and Daniel reacts immediately; hooks a finger under Lando’s chin and forces it up, giving him an unimpressed look. “Quit that.” He warns.

Surprisingly Lando does quit, an impressive pout appearing as a tear leaks out.

“We’re going inside.” Daniel announces then, sort of desperate to scoop the boy up and settle him down.

“No, no no!” Still Lando’s vocabulary hasn’t improved beyond the word but Daniel ignores him, unfastens the seatbelt too quick for Lando to react and hoists him out of the car and over his shoulder before Lando can go all floppy spaghetti noodle. It’s not his first rodeo.

He should’ve seen this coming really, they only had one day together this trip because Daniel had been so busy at Red Bull and with the press. He feels guilty not creating a bit more time, knows how much Lando misses him and how much he misses him too. There’s been too many tearful calls to count.

Lando actually screeches all the way to the front door and he’s once again grateful for the private property and the fence around the house.

He puts Lando down in the entrance, scared he’s gonna drop him with how much Lando was fighting him and unsurprisingly Lando flops around like a fish out of water.

Daniel sits too, back against the wall before reaching out and pulling Lando closer by a flailing leg and hoisting him back into his lap now that he can’t drop him anymore.

Lando’s crying so much he’s struggling to breathe and Daniel wraps him up so tight there’s no wriggle room left from him to struggle. Lando sags against Daniel’s chest once he realizes he’s not gonna win the battle, relaxes more when Daniel starts pressing fingers into the back of his neck.

“Shh.” Daniel soothes, pressing his lips into Lando’s curls. “I got you, you’re okay.”

Lando cries for a bit, still stuck on his “no’s” until there’s a second word added.

“No go!”

Daniel’s heart shatters almost immediately and he holds Lando impossibly tighter. “I’m not gone yet, Muffin.”

Lando struggles to push himself out of Daniel’s chest, pointing an accusatory finger at the elder. His face is one big wet red splotch.

“Soon!” He cries. “No go soon.”

Daniel isn’t sure what to respond, because he is. He’s going soon, he’s gonna leave Lando and he’s the reason he’s so upset. It doesn’t feel good.

“I’m sorry.” He just breathes, bringing Lando back into his chest, the younger goes willingly.

“I’m sorry.” Because he is. “We’ll be okay.” Because they’ll have to be.

#littlef1adventures #lf1a.minific #my babies 🥲 #i was gonna write a comfort ending but decided to let yall suffer with me

[takerfoxx]

Hey.

Surprise! Here's the final piece of the Walpurgis Nights crew watch The Rebellion Story!

Reminder:

G=Gretchen

H=Homulilly

Op=Ophelia

Ok=Oktavia

Ca=Candeloro/Mami

Ch=Charlotte

...

The room that Homulilly shared with her girlfriend Kriemhild Gretchen was an eclectic mix of Gretchen’s love for bright and cheery colors and Homulilly’s preference for the macabre, from the gothic desk lamp surrounded by tiny glass kittens to the imitation human skull adorned with a crown of daisies. A newcomer might find their spirits uplifted by how warm and welcoming it was, only to then feel quite unsettled once they noticed the more gloomy bits of décor.

Not now, though. Now it was all gloomy, and for once the reason was Gretchen.

The lights were out, the curtains drawn, and Gretchen was seated on the side of the bed, shoulders slumped in misery, her legs lying in limp curls all over the floor like wet spaghetti noodles. Her face was all blotchy from crying.

Homulilly’s chest tightened up. Carefully shutting the door behind her, she walked over to Gretchen, careful to not step on any of her legs, and sat down next to her.

“Um, are you...okay?” Homulilly said, folding her hands in her lap.

Swallowing hard, Gretchen stared down at the spiral patterns her legs had formed on the floor. “Yeah. But um, not really. I don't know.”

Fortunately, the two of them knew each other so well that Homulilly didn’t have any difficulty sorting out what Gretchen meant. Gretchen was fine in that she wasn’t hurt, in any danger, and would probably be fine before too long, but she was very upset and feeling really confused.

“Are you mad at me?” Homulilly said.

Sniffling, Gretchen grabbed a tissue from the box on the nightstand and blew her nose. “A little. But not really,” she said as she tossed it into the wastebasket.

Homulilly considered that answer. Everything in the movie had been so confusing in how to related to the residents of the house that it was hard to separate the two.

“Are you...more upset about what Homura did to Madoka, or what she did to herself?” she said.

Gretchen made a face. “I...I’m not sure. I mean, why did she do that to her? To Madoka, I mean. She was getting her happy ending! They were going to be together. Like us! Isn’t that what she wanted?”

Before Homulilly could respond, Gretchen immediately launched into the rebuttal. “And I know! Kyubey would try again! But did she have to do it like that? Couldn’t she have gone with Madoka and then they could’ve come up with something together after?”

Homulilly shrugged. “Maybe. But I don't think Homura wanted that.”

“Why?”

“I think...I think Homura just...broke. I think she was so messed up by...by everything that had been done to her, everything she went through that she...couldn’t take it anymore.”

“Okay, but why do that?”

“Because it was the only way she could have any control over anything.”

Her brow furrowing, Gretchen glanced over to Homulilly in confusion.

“Think about it,” Homulilly urged. “Everything she tried, she failed. Going back in time didn’t work. She had to watch you...um, watch Madoka die over and over again. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t win. And then Madoka made her big, witch-erasing wish, it took her away from Homura for good. She lost again.”

Now Gretchen was fully turned toward Homulilly, silently listening.

“It’s like what we said earlier. I think Homura told Kyubey about Madoka and the wishes because she was so miserable in the new world without Madoka that she was almost hoping that he’d do something like what he did. She wanted Madoka back. But when he did, it ended up being in the worst way possible. Even when she got what she wanted, she still lost!”

Letting out a long and slow exhale, Homulilly said, “No matter what she did, she always ended up as a pawn in someone else’s agenda. Even going with Madoka wouldn’t have changed that.”

Gretchen fell silent, mulling over Homulilly’s words. Then she sniffed, blew her nose, and muttered, “I…I get it. At least I think I do. I just don’t think…I don’t think she should have done what others were doing to her. And I definitely don’t like how she was calling herself evil! Hasn’t the world been cruel enough to her, without her being cruel to herself?”

Homulilly found herself thinking back to her first few years as, well, herself, back when she and Gretchen had found themselves in the care of the Freehaven Integration Bureau. She had not liked herself very much back then, and it had taken a lot of work from both herself and those around her to help work past all those doubts and insecurities to accept herself for who she was. She could only imagine the absolute depths of the self-loathing that plagued Homura Akemi.

“Maybe we should stop, then,” she said. “Charlotte was right. This was a bad idea.”

“Stop?” Despite how much the movie had distressed her, Gretchen seemed even more upset by the idea of not finishing it. “We can’t! We can’t just leave things like that!”

“But what if what happens next is even worse?”

Again Gretchen did not respond, though her curling legs suddenly lay flat, indicating that she was deep in thought.

Then, so suddenly that it took Homulilly by surprise, she sprang up, all twelve legs lifting her almost all the way to the ceiling.

“Then at least we’ll know,” she said, the determination evident in her voice. “But I can’t have all that eating at my mind. I need to know how it turns out.”

For as sweet and unassuming as Gretchen was, when she had her mind set on something, it was impossible to deter her. And honestly, Homulilly did agree. “Okay,” she said, standing up as well. “Let’s finish this nightmare.”

…

=Homulilly and Gretchen return=

G: Hey.

Op: Oh, uh, hi.

Ca: Gretchen, are you-

G: I’m fine. I’m sorry I ran out like that.

Op: And are you two-

H: We talked it over. We’re okay.

Op: Okay. Because if you want to stop…

G: I told you. I need to see how this ends. I can’t just leave things like that. But I promise I won’t run out again.

Ok: Okay then. Um, let’s again remind ourselves that this is an alternate Bad Future and none of this actually happened, and we’re all happy together, okay?

Ca: Agreed.

Op: Right there with yah, babe.

Ch: Sounds good to me.

G: Yes. Right. This didn’t happen.

Ch: Well, if you believe in multiverse theory-

H: Just play the movie.

…

Ch: Okay, so, we’re in the real world now?

Ca: I think so. Albeit one that Homura’s…overwritten.

G: What does that even mean? Is she God now? And don’t call her the Devil!

Op: Why are you looking at me? I wasn’t going to say it.

Ok: You were thinking it.

Op: I was thinking it a little.

…

H: Well, apparently the new God likes to have tea parties in the middle of the street.

Ok: For reasons.

Ca: Oh. It’s…me. Well, at least I’m still alive.

Ok: What the hell was that blue mouse thing?

Ca: Um, that was…one of Charlotte’s familiars.

Ch: I-

Op: What was it doing outside of a labyrinth? Actually, you know what? I don’t care. My weird threshold has been thoroughly maxed out.

H: How do you even remember what her familiars look like? Wasn’t that over twenty years ago?

Ca: Believe me, some things still out in the memory.

Ok: Wait, I changed first, right? Did I have familiars?

Ca: You two merged pretty quickly, and by then we were done with the familiars.

Ok: So, me and Charlotte joined souls before anyone else.

=thoughtful pause=

Ch: I refuse to entertain this line of thought any further.

Ok: Ouch. Tell me how you really feel.

Ch: Oh, for the love of…

…

H: Who am I talking to?

Op: Um, the waiter? Yourself?

Ok: Oh! There goes your cup.

Ch: Clumsy God.

Ca: Is that feather from Homura’s wing? How’d I-Never mind.

…

Op: Oh. I’m here, now. Feeding the birds.

Ok: That you are.

Op: Yup. Just me feeding the fucked-up birds that I suppose I can actually see.

Ch: You don’t seem very concerned.

Op: Maybe they just look like magpies to me?

Ok: It is nice of you to be so sharing with the unholy abominations.

Op: Oh, thanks a lot, you fucked-up children! Made me waste an apple! Ungrateful little brats.

Ch: You do look kind of cool looking over everyone from that tree, though.

Op: I always look cool. Looking cool is my default. Get on my level, scrubs.

…

Ok: Oh. Me.

G: You look angry.

Ok: Well, apparently I have a bullshit detector.

Ca: We’re not going to see another fight, are we?

Ch: It’s a little late in the movie for another action scene.

Op: Besides. Homura would absolutely wipe the floor with her.

Ok: Hey!

Op: Sorry, babe. But she’s God now. You’re just a little outclassed.

Ok: Hey, I can beat up a god. Just watch me. Bring me a god right now, and I’ll beat them up.

H: You sure you want to go?

Ok: You’re no god.

H: Are you sure about that? Maybe I’ve been one this whole time and just never told anyone.

=Charlotte eyes her suspiciously=

…

Ch: On the one hand, you really got to admire how fluid the animation is. On the other, what the hell is she doing with her hands?

Ok: You do weird things with your hands all the time!

Ch: I’m autistic. It’s called stimming. Homura’s just doing it to be dramatic.

Op: She is pretty extra, not gonna lie.

G: Wait, she only captured my human part? What about the rest of me?

Op: Dunno. Maybe it’s still there. Being God.

Ok: So, there’s two Gods now?

Ch: More God and-

=Gretchen glares=

Ch: -and okay, never mind.

…

G: You’re not evil! Stop calling yourself-Huh?

Ch: And Homura’s familiars have all decided to take a swan dive. Would that even kill them?

Op: Somehow, that’s less disturbing than how much they’re smiling.

Ok: WOW! She’s leaning in awfully close! Personal bubble, come on!

Ch: See? She just likes being dramatic.

H: Do I ever get that dramatic?

Op: You have your moments, but this is way over the top.

Ok: Oh, so Sayaka can just summon me up whenever she needs someone’s ass kicked. Gotta admit, I don’t know how I feel about that.

Ch: It does raise a lot of weird questions about the connection between Puella Magi and witches.

Op: At least she didn’t stab her own heart out this time.

Ch: I don’t know. That was pretty metal.

G: You guys are sick.

…

Ok: Oh, hang on, what is she doing to me?

H: Oh, no.

Ca: I have a feeling that she’s wiping Sayaka’s memories.

Ok: I did not consent to this!

Op: None of us did.

H: I’m starting to…I’m really starting to dislike where this is-Wait, did I just get beaned by a tomato?

Ch: Her own familiars threw it. That is some deep self-loathing.

H: What is it going to take? When will you finally be satisfied?

Op: Starting to have second thoughts?

H: I already did. Look, I’m not going say I didn’t enjoy what I-Damn. What she did to Kyubey. But brainwashing everyone is too far!

G: Homulilly…

H: And she is just playing into the whole “Devil” thing way too hard! Oh, look at me, I’m so edgy, I’m dancing around in a skanky black dress calling myself evil! Why don’t you get a pipe organ going while you’re at it?

G: I liked the dress, though…

Ch: Would this be a bad time to point around that they again have me prancing around in the background like the idiot child I’ve been made out to be?

H: Yes. You’ve had your turn to complain about your other self. Now it’s mine.

…

Op: And…memories gone!

Ok: So, wait, did I just never die now? Are all my cool Archangel powers gone?

Ca: It does seem to be-

G: Oh! Hitomi.

Ok: And violin-boy. Super.

Op: Well, they’re not surprised to see you, so I guess literally everything got wiped away.

G: Look, she’s crying! She still cares about them!

Ok: Well, yeah. They were my friends. Er, still are, I guess.

Op: At least you’ve moved on. Hey, wait, are we still together?

Ok: Oh, if Homura wiped that out, then I going to be so…

…

Ch: Your teacher is still on that bullshit.

Ca: Nice to know some things never change.

H: Is there…Is there a specific reason why Homura’s in the class? She literally rewrote the universe and set herself up as its new Dark God. She doesn’t have to go to school!

Op: Besides, with all that timelooping she’s done, she ought to have enough credits to graduate any university a dozen times over.

Ok: Pretty sure doing and redoing the same section in your textbook over and over again doesn’t equal a degree’s worth of knowledge.

G: Oh, wait, what? Why am I…

Ch: Did…Hang on, wasn’t Homura the transfer student?

G: I guess…she switched our places?

H: Why does she looks so maliciously bored, though? Isn’t this what she wanted?

Ch: Finally got the whole universe rearranged just how she wants, and it still feels like she’s just going through the motions.

…

Op: Well, give Madoka credit. Day one and she’s already assembled a harem.

Ok: Jealous much?

Op: Nah. Mine’s bigger and less…underaged.

G: You have a harem?

Ch: Have you seen the girls at her studio fawn over her?

Ok: It’s the suits.

Op: And the swagger. Ladies love a confident woman who knows how to dress.

G: Wait, a grade-schooler? Did that girl just say Madoka looks like a grade-schooler?

Ch: Um, yes?

G: Well, she’s wrong! I am definitely not a kid!

Ok: Well, your style is a little more grown-up than Madoka’s is. And hey, she really is like fourteen, so that’s technically a kid.

G: Not a grade-schooler, though! And I’m the same age as those girls are! Um, I mean, she is.

Op: Hey, Homulilly. Wouldn’t that mean-

H: There is no force in this universe or any other than could compel me to get involved in this conversation.

Op: Noted.

…

Op: And the Queen Bee arrives to scatter off the competition.

G: Oh, thank goodness.

Ok: Come on. Don’t you want a bunch of pretty girls as admirers?

G: No! They were being weird!

H: Yes, because Homura is so much better.

Op: Wow. You soured on her fast!

H: If she had just stuck to regaining Madoka and ruining Kyubey then it would at least be understandable. But now she’s brainwashing people, erasing their memories, and changing their lives to create her perfect world. That’s too far.

Ok: Um, would I sound crazy if I said that I still kind of get it?

=everyone stares at her=

Ok: Okay, just hear me out. I know what she’s doing is fucked up. But look at just how much she’s been jerked around by literally everyone and everything. No matter what she did, no matter how hard she fought, no matter what she suffered and sacrificed, it was ruined by stuff that she couldn’t control. So she snapped and took all the control. I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t at least get it.

Ch: Um, can’t say I really disagree, but did you catch the part about her switching up Madoka’s life so Madoka was the one who was gone for a long time?

Ok: Yeah?

Ch: So, wouldn’t that meant that she kind of erased Madoka and Sayaka’s friendship? Maybe as a way to get Sayaka permanently out of the way?

Ok: Oh. Oh, wow.

H: That’s what I mean. She’s…basically playing dolls with all of you. And while I do still understand it, it doesn’t really justify any of it.

Ca: Maybe this isn’t about what’s morally right or wrong. Maybe it’s not about good guys or bad guys. Maybe it’s about what happens when someone is unfairly pushed too far for too long and is never allowed to win.

…

Ok: They’re just really driving in the whole creepy vibe, aren’t they?

H: Was that closeup of her mouth really necessary?

Op: You know, for someone who literally rewrote the universe to give herself what she always wanted, you’d think she’d be enjoying it more.

Ok: Um…phrasing.

Op: That’s not what I mean! I mean, why is she being so weirdly distant and standoffish? She got the Madoka that she wanted, everything that was in the way now isn’t, literally nothing can keep her from finally making this…whatever it is work. So why is she acting so weird about it?

Ch: Well, if I had to guess, maybe she doesn’t know how to do it any other way? I mean, she’s done the whole Reset Time, Protect Madoka thing for so long, she probably can’t turn it off.

H: Also, she hates herself.

Ok: Wow.

H: I mean it. Remember that tomato? She hates herself for what she did, so she can’t even let herself enjoy it! This is her first meeting with the new Madoka, and she’s already sabotaging things!

Op: Damn.

Ch: That’s a good point. And didn’t she also do the same thing back in her witch’s labyrinth? I mean, that also was her version of a perfect world.

G: That’s sad. She deserves so much better.

H: Well, maybe she did…

G: She still does! Candeloro was right. She got pushed too far!

…

Ch: Oh, hang on. Is she remembering?

Op: Well, here’s a twist.

H: That got reaction out of Homura. She definitely didn’t expect this!

G: So am I going to get my powers back?

=cooldown hug=

G: Oh. Guess not.

Ok: Wait, did you want her to remember? Because that would probably lead to a fight!

Ch: God, can you imagine what that fight would look like? Probably rip the world to shreds.

H: I don’t think they would fight, even then.

Op: How would you resolve this, then?

H: I…am very glad that I don’t actually have to come up with an answer to that question.

Ch: …so, are the ribbons symbolic of something, or…

…

Ok: Is there a word for when something is really sad but also really fucked-up in a disturbing sort of way?

Op: The Rebellion Story.

Ch: =snorts back laughter=

Ca: And the sun sets on an oblivious city.

Ok: Oh, hello! Is that us meeting?

Op: Thanks for spilling my pocky.

Ok: No matter what the universe, nothing can keep us apart!

Ch: Aaannnddd a bunch of random familiars, just hanging out!

H: I’m thinking that they’re Homura’s minions now.

Ch: Oh. Great. Me.

Op: About to be crushed by cheese. How appropriate.

Ca: No, I’m there to save you! So we can be together as well!

=everyone stares=

Ca: Granted, in a purely…platonic sense. Because…I got nothing.

Ch: Shoulda just let me get crushed.

Ok: It’s how you always wanted to go.

…

Ch: Okay, that way to Good Morning, and that way to the Country of Sweets?

Ok: I kind of wanna see what that second one is like.

Op: I’m more interested in Good Morning. Is the whole place just perpetually stuck in the AM hours?

G: Oh! It’s my family!

Op: Well, at least you’re all back together and…about to get crushed by all those boxes. Seriously, what’s with huge piles of stuff just tumbling down in slow motion?

H: Maybe Homura messed up the gravity settings.

Ok: Um, what’s that spinning thing above the city?

Ch: Big Sister is watching you!

Op: And the Godoka statue. Because symbolism.

Ok: And…Wow, it’s over!

H: Thank! God.

Ok: Oka.

=Homulilly glares=

Ok: Sorry.

Ch: And roll credits!

Op: This song is way too cheery for what we were just subjected to.

Ok: And that’s not even getting to the visuals. Did the people who put this together even watch the film?

…

Op: Oh. An after-credits scene. That’s neat.

H: Oh, damn it.

Ok: Hey, it’s you!

H: No, it’s not!

Ch: Is there a reason why that hill has half of itself just missing?

H: Is there a reason why Homura set her chair all the way on the edge?

Ca: And the rat is here. Fantastic.

Op: Oh. More dancing. That’s-WOW!

Ok: Oh-ho-ho! Kyubey got fucked up!

H: At least she did that. I’ll give her that much.

G: Wait, huh?

Op: Um…

Ok: Did Homura just take a swan dive off a cliff?

Ch: More of a long tilt, and…Um.

H: …well, it’s not like it’ll kill her.

Op: Yeah, but I still have many questions.

Ch: It’s probably symbolic of her paradoxical self-loathing. Here she is, finally having gained everything she ever wanted, her greatest enemy lies defeated while she dances in victory with the symbol of her newfound power, and she caps it off by symbolically committing suicide. You know, like her familiars did earlier!

Op: No, I get that, it’s just…why?

Ch: I just said why.

Op: Not the writers, her! Why did she just off a cliff? It can’t hurt her, she’ll just end up lying at the bottom looking foolish. Why?

Ok: Probably just to be dramatic.

Op: Kind of pointless to do it without an audience.

Ch: You mean like us? We’re watching.

Op: Yeah, but does she know that?

Ch: I don’t know. Probably.

=silence=

Ok: Did anyone else feel a sharp chill running down your back?

…

Ch: Well, that’s…that’s the movie. That’s a look of how we all would have ended up if you all didn’t turn into witches while fighting me.

Ok: Hey, Candy. You said I was the first one to witch out, and that set the rest of you off, right?

Ca: Uh, r-right.

Ok: Okay. Well, you’re welcome.

=simultaneous sigh=

Op: Any thoughts?

H: Plenty. But most of them really should be told to a therapist.

Ch: Okay, I’m tearing the bandage off. Homura. Let’s talk about her.

G: Don’t.

H: No, we should. And you guys don’t need to remind me that it wasn’t really me. I know that. But it’s still pretty hard to watch.

G: What happened to her was horrible! No one should ever be pushed to that point.

Ok: Yeah, not gonna lie, I still don’t know how I feel about what she did. I mean, on the one hand, I do kind of get it, and sure, everyone’s alive again and all happy together, but on the other…

H: I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. I’m glad that she finally made Kyubey pay. But I can’t excuse what she did to all of you. She stole your memories and rebuilt your lives the way she wanted them to be, in a manner that was convenient for her. That’s just…not okay.

Ch: I think Candeloro had an interesting point earlier. Maybe Homura had been pushed to a point where moral judgments don’t really apply anymore.

H: Wait, so you’re saying that if someone suffers enough, they should have free reign to do whatever they please?

Ch: Of course not. I’m saying her case is unique. And it kind of is outside of our jurisdiction to judge.

H: But it was your lives she was playing with! Sayaka and Madoka were best friends, and she just took all of that away! Everything you had all fought for, everything you had endured-

Op: Lilly, she’s not saying Homura was justified, she’s saying that this whole situation is way out of her wheelhouse. It’s like trying to judge the Ideal Witches from our limited perspective.

Ca: I don’t know. I can think of a few things they can be judged for.

H: Well, I’d say even Homura agrees with me, seeing how much she still hated herself.

Ok: I’m just saying I can’t see her as evil, or whatever she’s calling herself.

Ch: There’s this saying I read once. ‘A child neglected by the village will burn it down to feel its warmth.’ Basically, it was a cautionary tale about mistreating someone for too long.

H: But who was mistreating her? Like I said, I’m totally on board with her screwing over the Incubators. It’s just what she did to her friends that I have a problem with!

G: Then I guess what happened to all of us was for the best. We avoided that fate. And Homura, Madoka, Sayaka, Kyoko, Mami, and, um…D-Did we get a name for you?

Ch: I’d like to be left out of that list.

G: Right. Well, whoever you were, we all got our happy ending. None of that stuff happened!

Ch: Yeah, uh, speaking of which: fuck that kid!

Op: Wow. Speaking of self-loathing.

Ch: Ugh, it’s just so…You all were recognizable. But for me, they went with literally the most annoying depiction possible!

Op: Uh, who is ‘they’?

Ch: The writers!

Op: Right. The writers. Who are writing out our lives.

=long silence=

Ch: Well, those are some fucked-up implications.

Ok: Well, on the bright side, I’d like to say at the very least, Sayaka and Kyoko made for an awesome duo. So they got that much right!

G: I wish I had more to do.

Ok: You were literally God.

G: But I didn’t even know that until the end! And then only for like thirty seconds!

H: See what I mean?

Op: I liked the Cake Song. Can we rewatch the part with the Cake Song?

Ch: No.

Ok: I’m still going to go to bat for the soundtrack, though. There were some awesome tunes.

Op: Cakey. Cakey. Round cakey…

Ok: And some utterly bizarre ones.

Ch: The animation was fantastic. Trippy, but fantastic.

Op: That gun battle was amazing.

H: That part was cool.

Ca: And who won?

H: You’re not going to let that go, are you?

G: Well, as…upsetting as the end might have been, the story isn’t finished. It does seem like there’s supposed to be a follow-up. So maybe all those problems will be fixed!

H: I hope so.

Ok: Well, until then, I guess we can go get caught up and watch the show-

Everyone: NO!

#wn rebellion mst

[afunfunkytime]

okay so I'm writing something that involves big simping and big simping requires Analysing Your Crush's Features Excessively

so here's some little details i thought about for a couple characters (most are southern because im big simp for southern accents and they live in my head rent free)

I don't hc the characters looking like Ben in my personal hcs, I'm sorry if that's odd

Texas, Arkansas, Mississippi, and Georgia have crows feet- because I think it's such a cute feature to have and I like a good 'weathered' looking character

Alabama's smile is lopsided. No real reason, I just like a crooked smile.

Arkansas has a crooked nose, it veers slightly to the left. It's naturally occurring, not caused by an injury but he feels like it wasn't necessarily helped by all the times he's tripped and fallen over the years. He doesn't mind it so much nowadays, but it stings when it's pointed out. Something about the word Arkansas just gives 'crooked' and I don't know how to explain it. He's my favourite character to play with the appearance of. It'll be obvious later.

South Dakota lost 2 of his fingers doing something stupid. He gives 'oopsie daisy' vibes, most of his injuries are go big to the hospital or go home

Kentucky <3 dimples. They're cute, he's cute.

Kentucky has a chipped front tooth from getting bucked off a horse. He's got lots of injuries from horses over the course of his life but this one is the most noticeable. It wasn't serious and doesn't really affect him because state magic ig I kept googling it and apparently you should really fix a chipped tooth asap so this one doesn't really work but go with it I said so. He chipped it back in the 1800s, and it's never really caused any problems other than a slightly less picture perfect smile, so he's just okay with it. He's got a cute smile anyway. Kentucky<3

Florida has unusually long eyelashes, like damn they're pretty

Arkansas has the roughest hands you'd ever see. They're scarred and torn up and not soft whatsoever. Callouses, ridges of old scars crisscrossing over his skin, split knuckles.

New Jersey and Texas have at least two gold teeth each. No reason. I just like the idea.

Bearded New Jersey is PERMANENT.

California has noodle limbs, like real wet spaghetti noodle of a man

Alaska has an eyebrow slit, just to make him that little bit more mysterious. And hot.

New Jersey has longer than average canine teeth and it's his favourite thing ever. He'll never get them filed down. Ever. He'll bite every dentist that tries.

Nevada's nails are always stilettos with the most elaborate design he can get, he'll threaten Gov with them if he gets too cocky

Gov! He has a few grey hairs. Y'all can't tell me he doesn't. He's earned them.

Georgia has freckles and it's the cutest thing ever. Georgia in general is cute. In my hcs he's ginger. Extra cute.

Florida has two shark bite scars from different sharks. One on his calf and the other on his upper back. He's very proud of them.

Utah tripped down the stairs and has a pretty badass scar just above his eyebrow. He may or may not fabricate a story to sound cooler.

Florida has webbed fingers and toes. Not webbed digits together, just slight webbing between them. I'm not good enough with words to fully explain what I mean. It is theorised he is part seagull because he screams, is annoying, and steals food.

Mississippi has a long scar between his thumb and pointer finger from a mishap with a fishing hook

lmk if y'all have thoughts about this

#ben brainard #welcome to the statehouse #welcome to the table #wttsh #wttt #the table #this is weird i think #sorry i love them #i like my men with details

[37-children-of-the-dreams]

Now that I think abt it, Ace and Jeredy were So. Damn. Fruity.

To be friends at work is one thing but Ace quitting STORM just to Co-parent Chase without hesitation (Trying to isolate him from his friends at first ASIDE) to after getting turned into a lab rat experiment to then STILL stay with Jeredy (Just the two of them Alone in a moving train while the kids did dangerous stuff you KNOW what I'm talking abt), like yes, bby I'm gonna rebel against my old boss, help raise the kid you abandoned, and risk my life against literal psychopaths hellbent on world domination at your side, even after getting turned into an abomination of a monster that only YOU could bring back my humanity both literally and figuratively-

And then Sophia gets back and magically the Sunos are one big happy family. Yay!

It's got it all, the drama, the trauma, the heartbreak, Sophia spending so many years away from Chase she doesn't register him as her son anymore and instead choosing to spend time with Beyal (Who has NO IDEA the damage he's inflicting onto Chase and never MEANT TO, he's also just a teen-!!!) To the revelation of an unhappy marriage from the start, and how it accidentally led to Jeredy and Ace to spend more time together, and with Sophia out of the picture there's nothing stoping them from crossing the line, but then there's the regret, Jeredy's obsessions, his terrible emotional ineptitude and supportive, ride or die, heart on his sleeve Jon Ace.

Jeredy getting cold feet and breaking everything off when Sophia is 'Rescued' to attempt to pretend (Terribly, mind you) to be a happy family again, except it doesn't work.

And poor Chase is in the middle of it all, this boy can't catch a fk break.

His dad uses him and pushes him away when he doesn't need him, his mom ignores him (If downright denies his existence to dote on another boy his age -His friend!!!-)

Ace dives into work, running STORM all on his own, and pretends nothing ever happened between him and Jeredy, all the sacrifices, all the words said and left unsaid, all the energy and time wasted...

Monsuno is a tragedy of astronomic proportions, omg

Jon Ace is the reason (at least one of) that Jeredy is on extremely thin ice. Actually, he’s the reason Jeredy is a spaghetti noodle before it gets wet. You don’t just get close to a man after your wife disappears and leaves you your only child without thinking that the man working with you is a good man to hook up with and make a good stepfather for the kid. I don’t help that Jon legit protected Jeredy from Klipse even when he became Toxic Ace because Jeredy remind him that he’s not some puppet monster and instead the man he’s happy being next to.

Like, I swear, if Jeredy didn’t just lie to Chase about Sophia’s actual disappearance and how he might never find her because he can’t find even a single trace of her, maybe Chase would still see that his dad still wants a companion or a partner in his life because he’s been a single father for so long and the fact that he can’t find Sophia no matter what would Chase understand that he’s not replacing Sophia, he’s just wanting to have someone be with him again. And maybe even if Chase finds out that Sophia is alive and can find her, maybe he’d be okay if his family dynamic is changing and that it’s not going to be so bad because it’s Jon that Jeredy would want as a partner. I mean, Chase trust Jon and has done a lot for Jon to be normal again, and Jon does care for Chase even if the methods aren’t always the best so really, Jeredy should have just said something and not lie because season three was rather umm… lackluster in the family department.

(Okay, this season wasn’t lackluster in the family department, it was just a downright, straight up nuclear disaster in the family department)

As for Sophia, I think even she’d agree that her marriage with Jeredy isn’t going to stay a marriage or be the same anymore because of the years she’s been away from her family. And considering that she’d have conversations with Jon about her family before season three, she’d know that Jeredy isn’t the same man she once married and that he has shifted his focus from her to Jon while still knowing that they’ll at least still be able to give Chase a sense of a happy family. But, it’s still kinda weird that she would only bond with Beyal for one episode and not bond with the rest of the team in other episodes of season three because, as much as I understand why she’d bond with Beyal, she should know that her son has other friends and that they also deserve to bond with her. And also, considering that the episode they bonded was about Tebab, why did the writers not include Dawnmaster in this episode? Like, dude was on Master Ey’s contact list and he is willing to body enemy combatants to protect the people in his contract. Heck, Dawn might even be willing to bond with Beyal and Sophia on the basis that it ain’t his first time protecting those with Monsuno Sight.

Sophia should’ve had episodes where she’s bonding with all of Team Core Tech and not just Beyal. Like, she owes Bren and Jinja her time for being the reason Chase doesn’t suffer from major depression, and she owes Dax for being the teammate that Chase can trust even when things look shady. Heck, Sophia and Chase should’ve had an episode together with Six in it (Think before Pet for more heartbreaking reasons) and get Sophia up to speed about the fact she’s now a grandma. Idk what might’ve happened there but like if Chase had told her things and how Six is family despite everything, Sophia might’ve been curious enough to try and bond with her new ‘grandson.’

This would’ve been better for Chase instead of what happened with his family in season three because despite the changes in his family life, Chase can have his mother back while also having another dependable father (Jon Ace) around even if he’s a workaholic. He’s basically getting a bigger family who wants him to be happy and will try to always be there for him. Now add Six in this and Chase can have a family that wants to heal and help each family member with their trauma. Okay, maybe not all of them considering Jeredy, but there’s no way Six ain’t wanting to help Chase if Chase helped him heal from being Klipse’s clone.

Instead we got the most awkward season and series finale and it was so rushed that if Monsuno had been as popular as other anime, it’d have taken Game of Thrones spot for the most rushed ending.

#monsuno

[peachycheol]

| lost in translation |

➸ summary: jeonghan asks you to translate some of his fans’ comments, but you hadn’t expected them to be so... dirty.  ➸ genre: pwp  ➸ pairing: idol!jeonghan x english-speaking friend!reader ➸ warning: dirty talk, oral sex (m. and fem. receiving), face fucking, deep throating, cum swallowing <333, **the italicized comments are in english**  ➸ w.c: 2.6k

➸ author’s note: hi i’m alive!! i’m so sorry to have kept you all waiting for so long, but i kinda just lost my mojo for a little bit 😔  but worry not- i have experienced a reawakening and i am now more of a whore than ever so hopefully i can get back to posting more. i have a lot i have planned out, but i wanted to get a quick fic out to y’all as a BIG THANK YOU bc i reached so many milestones while i was gone 🥺 🥰 💕  i love you guys and i’m really glad ppl are reading my fics haha

this fic is based on the infamous jeonghan gym video, y’all know the one (thank you to @haechanblr​ for reminding me of it and helping me with this fic i love u so much!!). i was actually in the middle of writing this when hoshi decided to post his own gym video and PHEW. JEEZ. I’M STILL RECOVERING. anyway, i hope you guys enjoy this one bc i really enjoyed writing it 💖 🍑 

[ foreversvt ] commented: I AM ON MY KNEES  [ yoon1004 ] commented: is it jeonghan’s birthday or is it mine [ happy bday angel! ] commented: YOON JEONGHAN ???? [ twinkluvr69 ] commented: grrr wanna slurp those noodle arms like spaghetti 

You continue scrolling through the comments left underneath the video, trying to keep your face composed as you come across more and more explicit reactions from fans all over the world. Seokmin had uploaded the video to Weverse as an innocent birthday prank for Jeonghan, but he probably had not anticipated just how horny their fans could get over a seemingly harmless video of Jeonghan doing some leg presses. To be fair to the fans though, you yourself had watched the clip several times and you would be lying if you didn’t say you were… affected. 

“Well? What are they saying?” Jeonghan leans over to watch you scroll, and you are acutely aware of the warmth of his arm pressing against yours. The two of you are sitting on the floor of  your living room with your backs resting against your couch, hanging out after a small birthday dinner with some of his other friends. As one of Jeonghan’s english-speaking friends, he had asked you to help him translate some of his birthday wishes before his day ended, though you’re not sure how to tell him that his fans are not exactly sending in wholesome professions of love. 

Instead, you decide to try giving him some tamer versions in the hopes of satisfying him before you get to anything too blunt. “This user says you have noodle arms, but I think they like it so it’s okay.” 

“Hey! I’ve been trying my best to get thicker, but not all of us can be born beefed up like Seungcheol.” 

“You asked me what they said!” you laugh. “Most of these are just birthday messages anyway-- I’m sure you don’t need me to translate ‘Happy birthday, I love you!’ a thousand times.” 

“Yeah, obviously I understand the more common phrases, but there’s so many that I don’t understand today for some reason!” Jeonghan huffs, then points to a comment that you had purposefully hid under your thumb. “Like okay, what’s that one say?” 

[ seungcheolswife ] commented: wow the way this video made my pussy clench,,,, 

“Uh,” you start, already feeling your ears go warm. Should you just lie? It’s not like he would be able to tell, right? You and Jeonghan are close, but not so close that you can just say these things to him. Especially when this comment may be hitting a little too close to home for you. Even now, you remember the bolt of arousal that shot to your pussy the moment you  heard Jeonghan’s first grunt of effort. You bite your lip. No, Jeonghan really didn’t need to know about that. “I-it says something like ‘you made their heart flutter’.”

“Wait.” Jeonghan takes a moment to scan your face before his eyes narrow at you suspiciously. You give him your best innocent smile, but you already know he’s caught you. You had always been a shitty liar. “What does it really say? Is it bad?”

You sigh. Of course he hadn’t bought it. “No, it’s not bad. I just don’t know if you want to hear stuff like this…” 

“Well now I have to know. Tell me exactly what it says.” 

“E-exactly?” You meet Jeonghan’s stern gaze and you know that there’s no convincing him otherwise. What Jeonghan wants, Jeonghan gets. “I-it says that the video made their p-pussy clench.”

After several beats of silence, you look over to Jeonghan to see he is completely unaffected by the comment. Or maybe he is. His eyes glint mischievously in the light when he responds.  “I said exactly, baby. Try again.” 

Your whole body feels hot under his smug, expectant gaze; you should be surprised by the sudden pet name, but it only makes your mind fuzzy with the beginnings of arousal. You swallow thickly, unable to disobey him. “T-this video made m-my pussy clench.” 

“So naughty… Just this short clip has your cute little pussy all needy,” Jeonghan clicks his tongue, but a knowing grin spreads on his lips. His words have you shifting in your seat in an attempt to relieve the dull ache setting in between your legs, though you don’t dare let it on. It’s clear Jeonghan is playing a game with you, and although you know you’re going to lose, you’ll be damned if you let him win so easily. “Let’s read some more, hm? Translate this one for me.”

[ daddy_hannie ] commented: omg i bet jeonghan makes the hottest sounds when he’s fucking 

The comment he scrolls to nearly makes you whimper. It’s embarrassing how clearly you can recall the sound of each of his low groans coming through the screen, how sexy he sounded. Images of Jeonghan on top of you, his eyebrows furrowed as he grits out desperate groans of pleasure, leave you in a daze while your panties quickly dampen with your arousal. 

“Go on.” Jeonghan’s firm tone only makes you squirm more, and this time he takes note of the way your breathing has gone shallow and how your eyes are already hazy. 

“I bet Jeonghan makes the hottest sounds when he’s fucking,” you say softly. 

Jeonghan chuckles, his breath tickling against your neck. “Now you’re just making me blush, sweetheart. I bet you’d make some pretty noises when I’m fucking into you too,” he muses casually. You finally let out a soft whine, tired of holding your breath as he moves to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. 

“J-jeonghan…” 

“Hm, I think we should read a couple more,” the boy says, ignoring you and scrolling through more of the comments. You pout - your wetness has already soaked through your panties, your cunt just aching for his attention, but of course Jeonghan isn’t done teasing you. 

You’re wondering how long it will take for him to finally push your back to the floor and fuck you senseless when you spot a comment that might help you get you what you want quicker. ”I want to read this one,” you tell him, already rubbing your thighs together in anticipation. 

[ ~hanniehae!~ ] commented: god i KNOW your dick is big like PLEASE I WANNA SUCK UR DICK SO BAD

He raises an amused eyebrow at you, and you wait for him to stop you, biting back a smile when he doesn’t. You make sure to look him in the eyes when you say it, his own dark eyes telling you that he’s impatient for you too, and you nearly let it out in a whine from how much you mean it. “Please Jeonghan… I want to suck your dick so bad.” 

For a sliver of a  moment, Jeonghan goes rigid. Then, his smug smile returns as he brings up a thumb to tug on your bottom lip. “Mmm, such a pretty mouth saying such filthy words,” he sighs, shaking his head. “If you wanted to put it to good use, all you had to do was ask, baby.” 

Jeonghan chuckles at how eagerly you follow him as he moves to sit on the couch behind you, keeping his hold on your chin so that you keep your eyes on his. He has you kneel between his legs and you don’t waste any time in reaching for the button and zipper on his jeans. 

The man helps you tug his pants and boxers down to his ankles, and your mouth waters at the sight of his hard cock springing back against his stomach. Of course it’s pretty just like the rest of him. “You’ve been teasing me all this time, but you’re already this hard?” you whisper tauntingly as you lean forward to ghost your lips over the base of his shaft. 

Jeonghan’s shaky exhale does not go unnoticed by you, but his response comes out smooth as ever. “Could you blame me? You just looked so cute getting all worked up from saying all those dirty things about me. I bet your little panties are soaked through by now-- guh!” He lets out a surprised groan when you suddenly flatten your tongue against him, letting it drag slowly up to his tip. 

“You talk too much.” You look up at him with a smile before you wrap your lips around his leaking tip, savoring the taste of him on your tongue. Teasingly, you swirl your tongue against his slit until you feel his hand thread through your hair, as though he’s begging you for more. You decide to be nice, lowering your mouth further down his cock, letting him feel the slide of your wet tongue on his sensitive skin. 

A soft sigh leaves his lips at the sensation, pleasantly carding his fingers through your hair as you take as much of him as you can. “That’s it. Good girl.”

His praise has you clenching around nothing, and you whine as you steadily begin to bob your head along his hard cock, reveling in how he would let out small whimpers whenever you would lightly suckle on it. 

Just as he gets used to the feeling of your mouth on him, you suddenly take him as deep as you can into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks tightly around his cock. “Oh, f-fuck!” Jeonghan lets out a strangled moan, his hips lifting from the couch to fuck further into your mouth. 

You feel the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat, but it only spurs you on even more as you swallow around him, causing him to throw his head back in ecstasy. At this point, a dull ache starts setting in your jaw and drool begins to messily slip from the corners of your mouth as you return to sucking him at a more steady pace, and you feel your pussy throb from how dirty it all felt. Though you and Jeonghan did flirt occasionally, he had always felt off-limits to you-- he’s an idol and you’re just one of his normal-person friends. But here you are with his cock in your mouth, all thanks to the horny thoughts of his fans no less. 

To their credit, they were right. Jeonghan does make the hottest sounds while fucking. He lets out another throaty groan from above you and, unexpectedly, he pulls you off his cock. His pupils are blown wide with desire, his chest heaving slightly as he looks at the state you’re in with your swollen lips and the drool on your chin. “Can I fuck your mouth?” he asks breathlessly. 

“Yes please,” you reply, voice already a little hoarse from your efforts. You shift back on your knees to make room for Jeonghan when he stands, opening your mouth obediently when he moves to slide his cock back onto your tongue. Jeonghan tightens his grip on your hair, keeping you still as he starts to fuck into your mouth with quick, shallow thrusts. “Mmh!”

“Fuck, your mouth feels so fucking good, baby,” Jeonghan sighs appreciatively. You bring your hands up to grip at the backs of his thighs to keep yourself steady when his thrusts become a little more erratic, causing you to gag around him as his cock continues to hit the back of your throat. Still, all your focus remains on hearing more of Jeonghan’s pleasured groans, on seeing his face scrunch up in absolute bliss, so you keep your mouth open wide despite the tears that prick at your eyes. When Jeonghan looks down at you taking his cock, eyes glazed over and fucked out, he curses loudly. “Shit-- can I come in your mouth?” 

Unable to speak with your mouth stuffed full, you cutely give him a thumbs up. Jeonghan would have laughed if he wasn’t so close to cumming. With several more thrusts, he cries out a strained warning before his hot release fills your mouth. He rides out his orgasm, twitching in your hold as his pleasure bleeds into oversensitivity. Once he’s pulled out, you make sure to stick your tongue out so he can see how his cum coats your tongue right before you swallow it all down; all he can do is smile thinking about how he really should have fucked you sooner. 

“So good for me,” Jeonghan says to you softly, helping you up to your feet so that he can pull you into a heated kiss full of tongue and whimpers. You desperately grip onto Jeoghan’s shirt, pressing your body against him in search for some sort of relief for the arousal that is pumping through you and straight to your neglected pussy. He can’t help but smile against your lips. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll take care of you now.” 

You let him lead you to sit on the couch-- this time you are the one sitting on the edge of the cushions with Jeonghan’s head between your legs. He slides a hand over your clothed core, humming when he finds that you really have soaked straight through your panties. Just as you begin to squirm underneath his teasing fingers, he strips you of both your leggings and underwear in one swift movement, leaving you bare before him. 

The sight of him pushing your legs apart is enough to leave you in a daze. Your breath catches when you feel cool air brushing against your inner thighs, slick with your wetness, then it all comes out in a whine when you feel Jeonghan’s velvet tongue swipes at the spot for a taste. “O-oh!” a cry slips from your lips once his tongue finally slides through your folds. “Mmh!” 

“Does it feel good?” Jeonghan whispers, not bothering to wait for a proper answer because your broken moans tell him to keep going. He spreads your lips open with his fingers, eating you out slowly and deliberately as though he is savoring his favorite meal.

The room is filled with your soft whimpers and the lewd sounds of Jeonghan’s mouth working against your pussy and it only tightens the pressure in your stomach, causing your toes to curl. “P-please-- please let me cum,” you rasp out, and your eyes roll to the back, your hand clutching tightly at the back of Jeonghan’s head, at the feeling of his tongue flattening against your clit. “Ngh! Y-yes!” 

He skillfully flicks his tongue on your bud, shaking his head back and forth until his chin is absolutely covered in your juices. When your hips begin to move of their own accord, he lets you ride his face as you please, his cock twitching at how desperate you are for him. “S-so good,” you sob, only able to mutter unintelligible nonsense in your delirium. Then, he wraps his mouth around your clit, and you’re left squealing as your legs begin to shake from how obscenely good it feels. “Shit, I-- I’m--!” 

You come undone with a loud cry of Jeonghan’s name, your body going rigid from how hard your orgasm hits you. Jeonghan takes it all, his eyes closed as he works you through your release, only letting up when you slump away from him.

The both of you finally look at each other properly in the aftermath, chests heaving and hair wild. Suddenly you’re both erupting in giggles at the realization of what you two had just done. “What are you looking at?” Jeonghan asks, eyes bright as he smiles handsomely up at you. 

You reach down to swipe your thumb against his chin, which is still shining with your cum, barely able to contain your giggles. “Who’s got the dirty mouth now?”

#svtredroom #seventeen smut #jeonghan smut #yoon jeonghan smut #jeonghan scenarios #jeonghan fanfic #svt smut #m:yjh #g:pwp #l:os #hehehehe surprise #kiss for good luck mwah

[goodnightmemes]

TIKTOK SENTENCE STARTERS PART ONE

some of these are quotes from tiktok creators, and some are from various other forms of media that were popular audios/trends on tiktok

❛ God fucking dammit, Dave! ❜

❛ Oh, a fresh pie! Save me a slice. That’s good. Okay, that’s good. Yeah, that’s...alright that’s good. Oh - okay. Alright. Okay. Alright. Okay. That’s good...that’s good! It’s….IT’S ENOUGH SLICES! ❜

❛ It’s becoming increasingly obvious. I can deny it no longer! ...I am small. ❜

❛ Have you ever been beaten by a wet spaghetti noodle by your girlfriend because she has a twin sister and you got confused and fucked her dad? Well that’s how it feels to drive a Ford F2-50. ❜

❛ I live inside you forever! With Satan himself by my side! ❜

❛ I’m picking up really sketch vibes. ❜

❛ I’ve brought you a gift. It’s a crystal, nothing more. ❜

❛ You probably think this world is a dream come true, but you’re wrong. ❜

❛ I was protecting ____. I will always protect ____…..I’m on my way to murder ____! ❜

❛ How is it that you go about defining good and evil? ❜

❛ People are always saying “omg ___! You��re so cute! I’d die for you!” So die. Sacrifice your soul for your queen. ❜

❛ Someone has been in my room and taken my beers away from my room.  ❜

❛ I don’t think so, darling. ❜

❛ I’m fast as fuck boy! Still fast as fuck boy! Come get some! I don’t think you have any idea just how fast I am! ❜

❛ Look at this distinguished gentleman! Look at the way he is sitting. Yes, very distinguished. Mmhmm. I see. I see. ❜

❛ You were dead! I saw you die! ❜

❛ You’re waking the neighbors. SHUT UP! ❜

❛ What the fuck is that fucking thing? What the fuck? Hello? WHOA. CHILL. BAD VIBES! ❜

❛ Not only did you do that, they got your ass on camera! This is the clearest video I’ve ever seen. This is the most HD shit ever! This is 4K. How did they get you in 4k? ❜

❛ What does this do in your fancy car? OH MY GOD I’M PLANNING AN AIRSTRIKE! AHHH! ❜

❛ I may not be a smart man, but uh, I know something’s fucked up when I see it. ❜

❛ Do I remember?.....no. ❜

❛ It is hot as hell in this fucky ass, hot ass room I’m in. IS THAT THE GRIM REAPER?! ❜

❛ No more contacting please. Thanks. Appreciate.  ❜

❛ The trash man! I come out and I throw trash all over the ring. And then I start eating garbage. ❜

❛ Am I a lady or am I a rat? ❜

❛ Goodnight to people with daddy/mommy issues. ❜

❛ I am fucking crazy, but I am free. ❜

❛ He can’t keep getting away with it!  ❜

❛ Baby I’m not even here. I’m a hallucination. ❜

❛ Seems a down right shame. Seems an awful waste. ❜

❛ Come with me, and you’ll be, in a world of osha violations! ❜

❛ I thought you were kidding! I thought it was a joke! I even wrote it down in my diary!  ❜

❛ Everything’s cool right now. Might be some problems later, but uh, we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. ❜

❛ *to the tune of The Final Countdown* It’s the final brain cell! DODODOO DOO! ❜

#rp meme #sentence starters #sentence meme #inbox meme #rp prompt #*mine #*tiktok

[tllthesundies]

Anonymous said:

hi! i love the entertainment fic :) can you please write the part when they are celebrating louis’ birthday together, from harry’s pov?

–––––––

Harry hears the front door open, then close.

He remains indifferent as he stirs the small pot with pesto sauce in it to keep it from burning. He, also, keeps his eye on the boiling noodles in the bigger pot. But he’s listening to Louis’s footsteps and the jingling of keys in his pocket.

“Okay, rockstar,” he hears Louis’s voice, becoming louder the closer he approaches. “I know I take care of everything, and I recognise that you live in the middle of no man’s land, but I didn't actually think I'd have to include a lesson plan on keeping your doors locked. Things happen, even out here.” He pauses, and although Harry keeps his vision on the food, he sees Louis in his peripheral lean against the counter beside him. He’s wearing his jean jacket, some grey band t-shirt on underneath, and pairing it with boyfriend jeans. “I mean, it's California.” Harry can’t help sparing him a brief look, anyhow, quirking an eyebrow as he stirs the pesto. He doesn't respond to Louis. Louis watches for a moment before pushing himself away from the counter to instead lean his hip against it. He sighs. “What are you doing?”

“Making dinner,” quietly and casually replies Harry. He turns the heat for the spaghetti off. “I thought we could eat while we plan. Are you hungry?”

Louis nods.

“Haven't had anything since lunch.”

Harry glances back at a cabinet somewhere behind Louis and points to it. “Do you mind grabbing plates for us and setting the table? They're in that cabinet.”

“Yeah, sure.” When Louis disappears, Harry takes the pot to drain the noodles. “Do you want a specific colour?” he decides to ask Harry.

“Um,” hums Harry over the sound of pouring hot water and wet noodles being dumped into a strainer. “Honestly? I'm feeling teal.”

As Harry finishes draining the noodles, pours pesto sauce on them and mixes them, and finishes the vegetables, he glances repeatedly, briefly, at Louis. He sees him with teal and olive green plates and sets them up on Harry’s table. He, also, tries offering help, but Harry shuts him down immediately, each time, and sends him to just sit at the table. His hands shake just a little bit when he puts each food back into their respective pots–the ends of his nerves are on burning ice and he can’t make himself look at Louis for very long, if at all. He’s just on edge for the truth he hasn’t told him, but he takes a silent breath to clear his head.

“Most of everything,” Harry says, after he’s set everything on the table and gently plops into the seat beside Louis.

Louis blinks up at him.

“What?”

Spooning noodles onto his plate carefully, Harry repeats, “Most. You take care of most things.” He offers the spoon to Louis with a small smirk ghosting his lips.

Louis breathes out a soft chuckle, taking the utensil from Harry.

He shakes his head in reply.

He waits until everything is on their plates to take off his jean jacket. Harry watches him remove paper from inside a pocket, then hangs it on the back of his chair. Louis unfolds it, glancing up at him. “I don't know what you've got planned,” he begins, “or anything, but I made a list, anyway, to help jumpstart ideas. You know Calista, so, I kind of presume you know what she likes. But—just in case.”

Tentatively, Harry takes the list Louis gives him. He swallows as invisible as possible, and his eyes roam over all of the ideas Louis’s written down: Frozen themed - extremely popular concept still; Pink strawberry theme; Typical animal zoo theme; the birthday party concepts keep going on and on, and the longer Harry continues reading the list, the more those icy ends of his nerves burn more. It becomes overwhelming for his chest, and–he has to tell the truth. There’s too much devotion and dedication in this list to keep his façade going. Leaning back into his chair, he finally gathers the courage to look at Louis, and says, “This list isn’t going to be useful. Don't be mad at me.” Eyebrows narrowing, a puzzled look comes across Louis’s face. “I lied to you.”

The fork in Louis’ hand halts.

He blinks slowly at Harry.

“What are you talking about?” he asks. “Why am I here, then?”

For a split second, Harry’s confidence wavers. There’s a hesitancy he can’t help having, and one he’s not used to controlling – and as observant as Louis is, he probably sees the moment he wavers. And the controlling side of Harry hates that possibility. But he looks Louis directly in the eye, runs a hand through his hair, and speaks in a quiet voice. “It’s your birthday in just a few days. I—I wanted to . . . give you some kind of celebration to show my”–the words continue getting stuck in his throat; he has to spit them out, to warm them up–“. . . appreciation for everything you’ve done.” He pauses, to gauge Louis’s reaction. He looks–unsure; wondering; still confused, albeit a little more understanding. “Look, I’m not the best at, uh—expressing my feelings for people. Not that I have feelings. But”—he rubs an eye with his knuckle, becoming frustrated with himself—“you know what I mean.”

He took Rachel’s advice, but maybe he went too far this time. He lied to get Louis to agree to this. He lied because he didn’t know any other way to go about this. He doesn’t know how to just–outright ask someone such a simple thing like hey, I want to celebrate your birthday, would you like to come over? And it’s far more awkward because he purposely hasn’t been the most pleasant to the exact person he wants to celebrate.

He’s trying.

Probably in his own twisted way, but he’s trying.

And the silence from Louis stretches for far too long – to the point Harry gets uncomfortable. But he doesn’t show it.

“I don’t know what to say,” Louis says, after some time, words just above a whisper.

“Say nothing,” Harry chooses for him. “Consider this a . . . I recognise your hard work, Louis. You’re always on time, prepared, and organised. I’ve never had to tell you how to do your job, and that takes a lot of pressure off of me. So, thank you.” That last part stings his throat when it comes out. But not in the wrong way. “Again, consider this a congratulatory party for two. Nothing more.”

Louis stares at him.

“How did you know?”

“Résumé,” Harry simply answers.

A small beat of silence.

Louis narrows his eyes at him. “I never put my age or date of birth on any résumé.”

“Résumé,” Harry repeats, intentionally curt.

Harry’s not going to tell him from which source he acquired the information from. He wouldn’t blow Niall’s cover like that. Niall had questioned him plenty enough when he had called him. Why do you want to know? Niall asked, even though he had already given the information to Harry. I just want to be nice, is all Harry answered with.

He wasn’t lying.

“Fine,” Louis replies cooly. “Creep.”

Harry puts on an unimpressed look, staring directly into Louis’s eyes as he chews his food. After swallowing, he says, “That’s a big accusation coming from someone I could fire.”

Louis smiles, smug.

“See, that’s the beautiful thing . . . you can’t fire me,” he retorts.

Harry shakes his head, and he fights the muscles in his face that are around his mouth that desperately are trying to lift his lips at Louis’s reply. He can’t let that happen. His mind races with other topics to bring; with other distractions.

“Listen,” Harry says, “I have a cake for you.”

“Where?”

Harry shakes his head again.

“We have to make it,” he tells him.

Louis looks cautious. “What flavour?”

“Chocolate.”

A pleasantly surprised look crosses his features. “That’s my favourite,” he says. “Lucky guess?”

“You could say that.”

Dinner continues quietly. The ends of Harry’s nerves have started to warm up, evaporating the icy burn and replacing it with a normal temperature. His heart stops beating inconsistently and begins functioning like a normal human being. However, the same icy feeling starts to show itself in Harry’s mouth; words flow uncontrollably out of his mouth. Harry’s not a talker. He knows how to talk. He knows how to respond to people, and how to maintain conversation, but he doesn’t generally start the conversations unless he has no choice. Louis looks a little amused by him, but he does his best to ignore it. He, also, tries to get Louis to talk about himself, so, that he has some semblance of control over his mouth, but it doesn’t work.

Harry notices Dolly sauntering into the kitchen in his peripheral as he loads the dishwasher. She has her mustard yellow turtleneck on still that Harry had put on her this morning, her collar matching impeccably. She comes right over to Harry and peers into the dishwasher, but Harry scratches behind her ear as a warning before gently swatting her away.

She mews loudly at him, offended, she wanders over Louis.

Harry rolls his eyes at her.

“Look what you've done,” Louis speaks up.

Harry looks over his shoulder at Louis as he messes with the controls on the top of the dishwasher.

Snorting, Harry opens a drawer and slings a clean dish cloth over his shoulder before making his way over to Louis. “She's just mad I wanted to keep her from hurting herself,” he tells Louis. “She'll come around in ten minutes and act like it never happened.” He lifts a hand and gently caresses Dolly’s neck. But Dolly tries to hide from him by burying her face into Louis's armpit.

Louis laughs, surprised.

“Oh, no.”

Harry just puckers his lips and gives her an air kiss, and chuckles, smiling. “She always comes back.”

Louis bends his head and drops his gaze to Dolly. Harry watches the gentle way he rubs the top of her head and the rest of her body. He’s so much more familiar with her than when he had first met Dolly. He had been jumpy, a little scared. Now, they’re friends. Harry turns his head away and walks to the pantry.

“So, I've got,” Harry begins, and stops. He grabs the chocolate cake box he sees hiding on the top shelf, and stretches his arm up to get it. The matching frosting container is nearby, and he grabs it, too. He reads the back of it before continuing speaking. “Chocolate frosting. And”—he draws out the word until Louis rolls his eyes, telling him to get on with it; Harry's composure breaks, a grin breaking across his face as he stammers out his words because of his breathy laugh—“could you get the eggs out, please?”

Louis probably thinks he’s annoying.

It’s all on purpose.

Louis squats down to release Dolly from his arms. She jumps out of his grip, but remains by his feet. He washes his hands, first, then puts the eggs he retrieved from the fridge on the island.

Harry comes up beside Louis who’s reading the instructions on the back very carefully, and just dumps the oil, cake mix box, and frosting next to the eggs

Harry finds his measuring cup, and gives it to Louis to use for the oil and water. Louis asks him senseless questions; if he wants to do the eggs, et cetera. Louis has him sniff the inside of the cake mix bake to see if it smells good. It’s very chocolatey. And while he lets Louis do whatever he wants with the cake, he searches through his playlist to find music to fill the silence, so, he doesn’t have to talk too much. He finds Louis a bowl, a pan to fit the mixture into, and preheats the oven.

Harry sticks his finger in the bowl last minute, making a pop sound upon releasing his finger from between his lips.

“That’s really tasty,” he says.

Louis’s unimpressed.

“Tell me that when you get salmonella.”

“Can't wait.”

Louis shakes his head.

As they wait for the cake to fully bake, they work together cleaning all of the dirty utensils and bowls. They clean the island. Dolly stays silently crowding their feet. Harry can feel Dolly rubbing her head against his ankles, then attempts to climb onto his feet to lay down on them. Harry internally sighs.

“Look,” murmurs Louis.

Harry hears a smile reflecting in his voice.

He doesn't remove his gaze from the whisk he's washing.

“I know she's there. I'm ignoring her.”

Then it happens very fast:

Harry feels a small puddle gather on his feet and the bottom of his pants that cling to his skin. He hears Louis’s shocked laughter, but he doesn’t look at him as he breathes in a sharp breath to calm himself. Every fucking time.

“She—”

Harry's eyes close in pain. “I know. I wish I could say this hasn't happened before.”

While Louis’s still giggling and picks Dolly up from his feet, Harry excuses himself to go change his pants, then reemerges to find Louis feeding Dolly from the palm of his hand.

Louis looks over his shoulder at Harry, a single eyebrow raised.

“Better?” he asks.

“No,” Harry answers immediately. He pulls out the chair beside Louis, turns it around to sit backwards in it. He crosses his arms on the back of it, and gives Dolly an annoyed look that she ignores entirely in favour of the food she nibbles on in Louis's outstretched hand.

Still highly amused, Louis smiles, looking at Harry. “She's fine. Why'd she do that?”

“She does it when I'm absent too much” Harry explains. “In her cat mind, she thinks if she vomits on me, I'll be forced to clean up after her and take care of her. I don't know. Cats are—they have strange minds. I just think it’s only my cat because she has anxiety problems.”

Closing his parted lips, Louis shifts his gaze over to Dolly. She's trying to bite down on a hard piece she got. Harry watches them both. “Did you want to, like, watch something?” Louis asks, glancing briefly at Harry. “While the cake bakes?”

Harry nods.

“What do you have in mind?”

Shrugging, once, feebly, Louis says, “I don't know. Maybe a movie? Comedies are nice.”

Harry stands from his chair, and pushes it back in normally. “It’s your birthday; you get all the privileges of picking and holding the remote.” He walks past behind Louis and into the front room, and sits down in the left corner of his settee.

After letting Dolly tackle the last couple of pieces of her cat food into her mouth, Louis picks her up and takes her with. He tucks his left leg underneath his right one when he sits down on the settee. There's a space between their bodies that isn’t too enclosed to make Harry uncomfortable; and he averts his gaze to the television, so, that he won’t continuously stare at Louis in his peripheral vision. He can’t keep doing that. He can’t keep–looking at him more than he needs to.

It’s dangerous.

Harry places the remote in Louis's outstretched palm.

Louis shifts through channels for too long; and when he enters Netflix, he spends too much time reading each and every description.

“By this rate,” says Harry, breaking their long held silence, “the cake will be ready before you settle on something.”

Louis turns his head, tilting his head in a look. “Well, I'm not much of a TV person, to be honest,” Louis admits. “What do you recommend?”

“I told you,” says Harry, staring straight at the television still, “your birthday, your choice. . . . But . . . if you really want a recommendation . . . There's Something About Mary is a very good romantic comedy.”

Louis blinks. “What's it about?”

“This guy Ted — Ben Stiller plays him — wants to reconnect with his old prom date back from high school he had a massive crush on, so, he hires somebody to track her down and . . . it's, like, really messy, but what rom-com isn’t? It's a hundred times better than it sounds,” Harry promises him.

Louis seems to consider it.

Then he nods.

“Sure. Let's watch that.”

Harry looks over his shoulder at Louis as he stands from the settee. “You sure?” he asks.

Harry kneels in front of his small but wide bookcase full of DVDs. He quickly looks over every case until he finds the one he’s looking for. Turning the player on and popping in the disc, he returns to his spot on the sofa. Harry’s seen this romcom a thousand times, so, though he keeps his eye on the television, he doesn’t try to catch up with everything that plays out. Instead, he listens to Louis’s laughter, and distracts himself by dragging his forefinger across his lips for something to do. When the stove timer goes off, he jumps up to get it, and Dolly follows behind him.

“It's done,” Harry calls out. After he puts the cake on the counter on top of a dish cloth, he tests the idle with a toothpick. When he looks up to see where Louis is, he finds him by Harry’s walls of picture frames, cradling Dolly in his arms as his gaze roams. Harry decides to act indifferent and let a hard feeling pass through his stomach, and raids through his pantry to find the frosting. “Louis. Where's the frosting?” Harry feels Louis come up beside him a moment later. “I gave it to you. Where could it have disappeared to?”

Taking a step back, Louis stretches an arm out to open the freezer door. He reaches in, and then he closes it to hold the small container of frosting towards Harry, in the air. “Right here,” he says, wiggling it when Harry looks at him, gaze falling on the container. “I put it in the freezer.”

Harry pauses, lips parting. “Why did you put it in the freezer?”

Louis raises both brows at him in a way that the answer should be obvious. “Because room temperature frosting is disgusting? It's only good when it's cold.”

Gently, he tosses it on the island.

Harry's eyebrows pull together as he steps back and pulls the pantry door closed. “Uh—I hate to inform you, but frosting is good no matter what temperature it is,” he says in a vaguely defensive voice.

“Now you're just being gross,” comments Louis, looking briefly at Harry when he situates himself in front the cake, his lightheartedness subtle. Harry chooses to just busy himself with removing the cake from the pan, turning his back to Louis. “Oh, no.”

Harry turns around.

“What?” Harry asks.

He sets the plate full of cake beside Louis on the island and peeks at what Louis has in his hand.

Louis turns his body in an angle, towards Harry, and demonstrates the issue. Holding a knife in his hand to scope some of the chocolate frosting out, he goes at it — but he's stopped, and it's impossible to get any, because the knife is met with nothing but brick. “It's frozen,” Louis says.

Harry blinks a few times.

“Really?”

“Shut up,” he retorts. He glances around before walking over to a cabinet to retrieve a bowl. “Couldn't we use a microwave? Unless you're willing to wait an hour for it to thaw. I know I rather not.” Setting the bowl down, next to the frosting, Louis takes it in his hands and attempts to shake it out into the bowl first. Harry just watches him – and he pauses for a second, because he notices a small freckle on the upper part of the side of his neck. He’s lost count, now, how many freckles Louis has.

“I thought you hated warm frosting.”

“I do, but if we put it in for just a few seconds it won't matter,” Louis reasons.

Harry watches him shake it and realise that method doesn’t work. He proceeds to lay it upside down on the lid and hits it hard. Then he tries squeezing it before attempting to pry the container from the edges of the frosting.

The corners of his mouth tilt downwards in a frown.

“It's going to take more than a few seconds,” Harry comments, and takes the frosting from Louis. He bangs it against the edge of the island, the sound visibly startling Louis. The solid block of frosting falls right into the bowl Louis had gotten. Harry gives him a smile as he walks past Louis to the microwave that sits on the counter to the left of the refrigerator and slides it in. Harry doesn't take it out until it looks like it's thawed entirely, then pulls it out with a hot pad. Coming up beside Louis, he pokes his index finger in the frosting and sucks it into his mouth. “Not that warm.”

He pokes another finger in it.

Louis waves his fingers away from the frosting, and he uses the knife from before to taste it. The temperature appears to be okay with him, judging by the pleased look on his face.

“It's really good,” he confesses quietly to Harry. He puts his knife in the dishwasher full of other dirty utensils and grabs clean knives and forks to use and separate plates for Harry and him. “I don't want to put any frosting on it, by the way,” he adds.

Harry pauses.

“What? Why?” He pulls his eyebrows together in confusion, and looks at Louis instead of the cake. What kind of person doesn’t want frosting on their cake?

“I prefer to have it on the side and dip the cake in the frosting,” Louis explains. “It tastes better to me that way.”

For a few moments, Harry stares at him, and Louis stares back, a little challenge in his face. His assistant is weird. But he can work around it. So, he nods, saying, “We can do that, no problem.” Then he remembers: “Wait.” He walks over to a drawer a few feet from them and rummages through it until he pulls out two things: a large pack of single candle sticks, and candle numbers 2 and 7. “Can't forget these.” Harry sticks the numbers right in the centre, then surrounds it with twenty-seven of the fifty count of blue candles. It's a very crowded cake, and crumbly and has new cracks added into the old ones because of the force of all the candles. It’s ugly, in Harry’s opinion; the cake, the stereotypical candles, how bare and destroyed it all is – but when he lifts his head to look at Louis, into his blue eyes that have specks of green and grey, his chest eases. Stops. Momentarily. This . . . isn’t so ugly.

Quickly, he lights all of the candles. “Okay,” he says upon lighting the last one, and sets down the lighter. “Make a wish.”

Louis ends up staring at his face instead of blowing out the candles right away. He searches Harry’s face. And Harry doesn’t know what to do besides stare right back. Finally, Louis tears his eyes away and leans down, blowing out the candles. They leave a trail of smoke in the air and a very distinct candle stench that Harry hates. But Harry pretends, and chooses to clap him for and whistle. Louis laughs at him, something soft and something high that pulls at Harry’s chest. He starts picking the candles out of the cake, and Harry notices a soft tinge of pink colouring the apples of his cheeks.

Harry doesn’t know why, so, he ignores it.

Louis cuts the cake and gives the first slice to Harry, then gives one to himself. Harry suffocates his slice in frosting very carelessly. Dolly retreats back to them and tries to rub her face in the bowl of chocolate and what's on their plates, but Harry grabs her with both of his hands and tucks her underneath his arm. She struggles to free herself the entire time; Harry ignores it. Even when they sit back down on the sofa to continue watching their movie. Harry doesn’t see it coming when Dolly whips her paw around and slashes at his skin, causing a long and bright red scratch down his forearm. He lets her go immediately, pissed off.

He sees Dolly strut right into Louis's lap, and walks in circles before settling down to rest on his thighs. Her relaxed exterior pisses him off more.

“Are you okay?” Louis asks, concerned, eyes full of concern.

Harry’s jaw tenses. “It burns,” he answers truthfully, “but I’m fine. She's just in a mood today.” He rolls his eyes.

There’s a frown on Louis’s face when he glances down at Dolly, but he doesn’t say anything further. Harry chooses to suck it up and finish eating his cake while ignoring Dolly. The scratch thankfully never bleeds, as they finish the rest of their movie, eating the entire cake by themselves. Louis doesn’t finish the next slice he eats, but Harry has no problem eating the rest of it for the both of them.

Harry's licking the icing off his fork when he looks at Louis. The half piece of pure cake is still there on Louis’s plate. “What did you think?”

Louis's eyes flicker up at him, meeting his gaze. Breathing in a soft breath, he nods his head.

“It was good; I liked it. I love Cameron Diaz.”

“Me, too,” Harry admits. “She's very nice.”

“Have you met her?”

Humming, Harry nods once. “Met her on the red carpet at some award show. I think I have a picture.” Louis huffs out a chuckle. “Do you want to watch another movie?”

Louis stays silent for a moment, then shrugs and rests a hand on Dolly, whom lays sleeping in his lap. “Sure. But you pick this time.”

“It's still your choice,” Harry reminds him.

Breathing out a purposely heavy annoyed sigh, he says, “I choose you to pick the next thing we watch.”

“That's not how it works.”

“Sure, it is. It's my birthday.”

Harry stares at Louis, pressing his lips together. It becomes a staring contest between them. It goes on for several moments until Harry blinks and looks away. “I can't argue that,” he says, finally.

“Exactly,” quips Louis, as he gently drops the remote in Harry's outstretched hand, palm turned up.

They watch Breakfast at Tiffany’s, then when Harry turns on Meet the Parents, he notices Louis’s eyes start closing. He repetitively glances out of the corner of his eyes at Louis, watching him nod off until he’s sound asleep. Harry’s chest grows soft as he stares at Louis’s tired, pale face. His thin lips are slightly parted, like he should be snoring. Him and Dolly both sound asleep on each other is a rather humourous sight. He decides to leave Louis be and turns his attention to the television to watch the movie. There’s something . . . oddly comforting about the silence; Louis sleeping beside him, the hum of the telly, the filling sensation that encompasses the silence. It’s not so lonely–not so what Harry’s used to. By the end of the movie, he grabs his own plate and stands up, then does his best to grab Louis’s without disturbing him. But Louis’s eyes flutter open at the accidental brush of contact that Harry internally curses himself for. Louis straightens out his very tilted sleeping position, and looks up at him through squinted eyes.

Harry gives Louis a genuine apologetic look, and quietly says, “Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you.”

Louis delicately rubs his eye with the back of his right hand, and stretches his legs, breathing out a tired sigh. He blinks his eyes a few times to adjust. “It's fine,” he rasps. “Sorry I'm falling asleep.”

“Don't apologise,” Harry gently tells him.

He continues off to the kitchen. After scraping off pieces into the rubbish and rinsing off their plates, he lays them on the counter, then hesitates. The image of the gift bag still in the other room floats to the forefront of his mind. He looks over his shoulder at Louis, and finds him distracted by Dolly, and makes a quick decision. Harry speed walks to the other room on silent heels and grabs Louis’ gift bag, then makes his way back into the front room. Louis looks up the exact moment Harry approaches him, and the movements of his hand combing Dolly’s fur stop when his eyes fall down and spot a white bag in Harry's left hand.

“What ‘ave you got there?” His tone is careful.

Harry sets the shopping bag right in his spot, close enough for Louis to reach into. Harry sits on the edge of the settee on the other side of Louis, at an angle facing Louis, and he looks him directly in the eyes. “I thought I'd give this to you, before you completely black out on me,” he says. “It's not really a celebration without gifts, too.”

Louis pushes himself up to sit straighter. “Harry . . .” He looks at a loss for words – lips parted on nothing; uncertainty scaling his face and eyes; touching the bag’s thin, black handles like it’ll burn him. “You didn't have to get me anything. Dinner, movies, the cake, I'm perfectly content just with that.”

Harry presses his lips together lightly and nods. “I know,” he says, forcing his gaze to not leave Louis's. “But I want to do this for you. Don’t make me repeat myself; I’m not good with complimenting people. Just accept it.”

“Harry—”

“Fucking accept it,” he says.

Glancing between Harry's face and the bag, Louis touches it again.

He leans forward and peeks inside. It’s covered by black, decorative tissue paper, and Harry watches him use both hands to remove all the tissue paper.

He knows the second Louis sees it. He pauses, gaze unblinking and widening just enough for Harry to catch. He sees the backpack from Givenchy Harry had gotten him. That was . . . another thing he managed to get out of Niall. Louis’s allegedly been so back and forth about buying it for himself that Harry decided to choose for him. It was extremely easy to find, and even easier to buy. It was probably the easiest gift Harry’s ever had to shop for. But–he didn’t think it was enough; he had bought a bag of Reese’s, as well as wrote a check out for Louis and put that in the backpack for him. Maybe it would make up for everything, Harry’s hoping–maybe it’ll . . . Harry shouldn’t be hoping for anything, really. But after Rachel had a talk with him and made him feel like a shitty person, he’s hoping this’ll convey Harry’s guilt. Or apology. Louis might not recognise it as that, but that’s okay.

“Open it,” Harry instructs softly.

Louis quits just staring at the bag and unzips it. Suddenly, he looks up at Harry and smiles at him, face glowing in happiness. Harry can’t help the smile he gives him in return. Louis backs down and–a little laugh is pulled out of him. Harry’s eyebrow furrow, a little, in wonder.

“What's so funny?” Harry asks.

Louis pulls the bag of candy out to show Harry, without speaking.

Harry's gaze shifts from Louis to the treat, a confused but amused smile splitting across his lips. He . . . doesn’t understand. It’s candy. Harry shrugs like what about it? and Louis shakes his head in response and mumbles never mind. Setting the candy down beside Dolly, he grabs the check.

Louis scoffs, shaking his head as he begins to read it, and asks, “How much is this?”

But he abruptly stops, face falling.

“Five thousand dollars,” Harry casually answers, despite his heart picking up pace again. Louis lifts his head to look at him, but he doesn't say anything. Is it too much? Is it too forward? Did Harry cross a line? Maybe he was wrong for buying Louis his dream backpack and a check. But if he just stuck with the candy, then Harry would look like he put in the least amount of effort in. And this is the line he struggles with: either going too far, or not doing enough. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing,” Louis answers immediately. Then he releases a breath, knowing he’s full of it.  “This is too much, Harry.”

Harry blinks, then stamps on his racing heart and pulls out his detached face. “Louis,” he begins, stern, “don’t even start. That?”—he points to the check—“That is pocket change to me. We’ve gone over this. I have more money than I’ll ever know what to do with. I don’t see better use for it than for charity and for using it to buy whatever you want. Don’t feel bad about me using my own money. Eat the rich, or whatever they say.”

“Do you even know what that means?” Louis asks.

Harry pauses.

“Yes and no. But that’s a different conversation for another day.”

Louis blinks, breaking his gaze from Harry. Harry watches him closely, and waits for something. Louis’s face is concentrated; furrowed eyebrows, a far away look in his crystal clear eyes. He’s thinking something, and as much as Harry would love to get inside that pretty little head of his, he merely settles for waiting. Dolly comes poking through, however, weaving herself effortlessly and expertly through Louis's arms. She throws her arms up to cling to the opened backpack, and stands on her hind legs to peer inside. She stuffs her entire head in it, and it breaks Louis out of whatever it was, making him chuckle.

Harry just shakes his head.

Louis wraps his fingers around her legs to pull her back out of his backpack, but she clings hard. Harry  finds himself laughing softly at the image before him, and he intervenes quickly. He softly scratches behind Dolly's head, then transitions into wrapping his hands around her bottom. He picks her up upside down, successfully having Dolly let go.

Harry pulls her to his chest.

Louis's small chuckle turns into a giggle, and he shakes his head. He reaches for his phone on the coffee table, and Harry watches his face change to realisation.

“I have to go,” he announces.

Dolly falls out of Harry’s grip and runs away.

He looks at Harry.

Harry puts on an unreadable face. “You have to go?” he repeats.

“Yeah,” Louis responds as he stands up. “I have a flight in the morning. Remember? I have to get up really early, and triple check all my belongings. It’s a long flight, so, I’ll need some proper rest.”

“All right,” Harry agrees. He walks first to the door, with Louis following suit, after placing his backpack back into the bag, along with the check. “When's your flight?”

“Hm,” Louis hums. “I think 7.45 in the morning.”

“Harsh,” Harry comments lightly. He lifts his hand to rub at his neck a moment. “I hope it's good. Tell your mum I said hello.”

Louis nods. “I will. And I hope it is, too.” There's a slightly awkward pause, on Louis's end. But it doesn’t last. “Listen . . . I want to thank you for—”

Harry interrupts him.

“No problem.”

“You didn't have to,” Louis points out. He's clearly not going to let Harry wave it off. “You didn't have to do anything at all, but you did. I just want you to know that it's one of the nicest things someone's ever done for me, and that I really, really appreciate it.”

Louis looks at with the most serene face, conviction in his tone. It causes Harry to be temporarily weak.

“You're welcome,” he says in response, hands clasped behind his back for something to hold on to.

Harry doesn’t see it coming – Louis steps forward with confidence, coming into Harry’s personal space, and raises himself onto his toes to wrap his arms around Harry’s shoulders. Those icy nerves return alight and burn him. He’s paralysed for several moments; all he registers is the faint scent of floral notes reaching into his nostrils and brushing against his nose hairs. It’s not overwhelming; it’s the perfect aroma of flowers and fruitiness. Based on his own colognes he’s sampled and bought before, this one could be YSL – or maybe it’s ones he’s seen, such as Lancome. They carry a lot of floral perfumes. Either way, it’s very pleasing. And before he can think, he sneaks his arms around Louis’s small waist–it’s much smaller and slimmer than it looks–and spreads his fingers across the bottom of his spine and the middle of his back.

It’s only a moment later Louis pulls back.

Even though Louis doesn’t look at him, he can’t stop staring at Louis, completely dumbfounded.

“I'll see you in a couple weeks,” says Louis, smiling, when he looks up at Harry. “I'm a text and phone call away if you need anything, okay?” Louis raises a pointed eyebrow at him, giving Harry a look. “Don't hesitate, okay? I won't mind.”

Harry nods.

He’s not going to, but he’ll pretend for Louis.

“Got it,” he says, pressing his lips together.

The pointed look remains on Louis's face.

“I mean it,” he presses, to ensure his message is across.

Harry rolls his eyes and straightens out his posture. “I know,” he sighs. “I’ve survived nearly a decade without you, so, I don't think anything I can't handle is going to happen in the time you'll be gone.”

Louis throws his hands up in surrender.

“Hey, I didn't say you couldn't handle any one thing. I implied quite the opposite, actually,” he corrects.

Harry plays along.

“No need to rub my already swollen ego.”

Louis smiles, huffing out a small laugh. It’s the softest expression he’s ever seen on a face. It’s so caring. Harry doesn’t–understand how he can be so gentle. “Never happy with anything, are you?” he teases.

Harry smiles. “Nope,” he says. “Comes with being a perfectionist. And just being me, in general.”

“I see.” There's silence that falls over them like a blanket. Harry’s hoping Louis will take the cue and leave, but he stays. “What do you plan to do for Christmas?”

Harry blinks.

“I don't know,” he answers. “I don't do much for Christmas, really. I don't celebrate it.”

Louis raises an inquiring brow. “Because of religious reasons, or . . . ?”

Harry shrugs. He doesn’t talk about it with anyone. He’s certainly not going to discuss it with Louis. “Nah. Just don't celebrate it, that's all,” he answers, giving Louis a small smile that he knows doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Not even with your parents?” Harry shakes his head, choosing not to say anything more. With that, Louis drops the subject. “Don't forget to—”

“I'm kicking you out,” Harry says, tone flat, and a finger pointed to the door behind Louis.

He walks around him and opens it.

“You're kicking me out?” Louis repeats,, smiling and now standing so close to the door frame, as he keeps his gaze on Harry, whom now leans against the side of the red door, arms crossed and one foot hooked around the other.

Harry nods vigorously, eyebrows risen.

“Get out. Right now.”

“Fine, I'll leave,” says Louis, raising his hands as he walks out onto the stone walkway, “but not because you're threatening me; but because I want to.” He keeps on walking down the small set of stone steps and across the path leading to the driveway.

“Louis,” Harry calls out without thinking, just going on the feeling of restricted air in his chest. Louis looks over his shoulder, as his hand pulls his car keys out of his pants pocket, and his strides slow. He stares at Harry with patience, and it’s the last thing Harry wants to see in his face, because he won’t be seeing him for a while. “Merry Christmas. Happy birthday. Have a safe flight.”

Louis’s mouth curves up in a gentle, genuine smile.

“Thank you. Happy New Year,” he calls back.

Harry closes the door two-thirds of the way, not willing to let go of the sight of Louis quite yet. He needs to see him get safely in his car and drive away – he can’t let that feeling go. The restriction in his chest worsens when he watches Louis open his car door, but it eases slowly when Louis looks back. In fear of coming off creepy, he closes the door. But he stays behind it to listen to the engine start – to see the red lights reflect against the windows and the distant sound of his car fade until Harry can’t hear anything anymore. Then he turns around, inhaling a deep breath when his vision lands on Dolly sitting on her bum patiently by the stairs, watching him.

“Dolly,” he says – she tilts her head – “Am I too much?”

Dolly mews and walks off.

He’s always changing himself, changing his style, his image. He’s either always too much or not enough; there’s no healthy balance. Maybe he’ll try working on it in Louis’s absence, so, he doesn’t have to fret over it every time he says or does something he’s not familiar with. He doesn’t want to scare Louis off.

#drabbles #hiiii i hope this doesn't disappoint! i had a headache while doing this lol so i hope it turns out decent-ish!

[lluvguts]

all better // reddie

pairing: teen!richie tozier / eddie kaspbrak

genre/warnings: fluff and angst, trauma, h/c

word count: 2111

summary:  Eddie has a bad day and Richie does his best to cheer him up.

check out my ao3

It’s just Richie’s front door.  

But no amount of convincing worked for Eddie’s mind as the sight of it warped into the small door in the sewer...With the grotesque face of the leper staring back at him. As he stared at the Tozier’s oak door he swore he saw a thick trickle of blood seep from the threshold and hear the sound of sickly, rasping breath from inside the hollow door. Just a few more moments and he’d be face to face with It..

It’s dark out, he told himself. That’s why I’m seeing things. But I’m here, Richie’s here. I’m safe. No need to be scared.

But that didn’t stop the nightmares that assailed him all night long—ever since they defeated It—keeping Eddie wide awake and strangled in worry for what could be lurking in the murky blackness outside. Eddie’s mother had caught on to his insomnia since the first week, making him take all sorts of supplements and medicine claiming to be a “sleep aid.” They did nothing to keep the images at bay. The noises. He only slept well on nights when Richie snuck over, or when Eddie drove to his house.

Richie could never know.

Eddie shook his head and knocked again. His eyes searched the window with its drawn curtains. I did tell him I’m coming, right?

But then the lock swung back and the door opened, showing the face that soothed all his worries. Richie grabbed Eddie’s arm and brought him in for a hug. He was suddenly pulled into Richie’s open chest and the familiar stink of cigarettes and black tea consumed him. It was a bold and comforting smell, one that Eddie loved. It made his nerves settle and for Eddie was unmistakably Richie Tozier.

“You look like shit, Eds,” Richie held him tightly, “On the phone you said it was a bad day, right?”

Eddie nodded against his shirt and they pulled away. I’m not entirely wrong. It was a bad day. He just doesn’t need to know exactly why. And that was the great thing about Richie: he didn’t need an explanation. He was more than happy to let his boyfriend curl up in his arms, his face still burning from fearful tears while Richie whispered little jokes or Voices in his ear until Eddie wiped his eyes and laughed. Most of the time they weren’t even funny.

“That’s alright, Eds. I’ll fix us some dinner, yeah?”

“You can cook?” Eddie followed Richie into the kitchen and sat on an island chair.

Richie pouted at him, his lower lip sticking out. “Don’t be hateful, sweetheart. Of course the Trashmouth can cook.”

“What’s on the menu then, Chef Tozier?”

“You’ll see.” Richie laughed and rummaged through the pantry.

Eddie glanced around the empty kitchen, not a single sound filled the house—except of course for Richie banging around looking for a stove pot.

“No parents?"

"Nope. My folks are out of town for the weekend, some family thing.” Richie said, dismissing the idea with a wave of his hand.

“And they left you alone?” Eddie asked, unable to help the smile that drifted into his voice.

“I’m seventeen. I don’t need constant supervision.” Richie growled.

Eddie pointed to him. “Yet you were about to pour marinara sauce into a pasta strainer.”  

“Okay, scratch that. I’ll always need you, Eddie my love...Plus I promised them I wouldn’t burn the house down.”

“What on Earth are you doing with all that?” Eddie caught sight of two boxes of macaroni, lettuce, and red sauce.

He tried to stifle his giggling, but it was useless. “Rich, are you trying to make spaghetti?”

“Maybe.” He replied defiantly with an embarrassed blush.

“With iceberg lettuce?”  

Richie inspected his ingredients again with his eyebrows raised, his eyes looked more doubtful now from beneath his glasses. “..That’s a thing, right?”

Eddie sighed and joined him at the counter. “You’re hopeless, Richie. Give me that ladle,” He loosely gestured to the wooden spoon next to him while putting back the lettuce.

“This is the wrong type of noodle.” Eddie held up the box of pasta while the marinara sauce simmered on the stove—the one thing Richie had done correctly.

Richie snorted and put his hands on his hips. “Not everything can be perfect like you.”

Eddie rolled his eyes and let Richie’s arms snake around his waist. “Okay, fine. Macaroni it is.”

He waddled over to the sink—with Richie still attached from behind—to pour water into the pot. As he let the faucet run Richie bent down and kissed his bare neck softly, his glasses poking into his skin.

Eddie stiffened. “What was that for?”

“For helping me with dinner. For being cute. Why, can’t I kiss you just because?”

“Of course you can. You’re just..distracting.”

“Oh? You mean like this?” Richie laughed and placed a trail of teasing kisses up his neck, making Eddie grip the handles of the pot tighter while he fought to breathe. He knows just where to kiss me.

“Am I distracting you now?” His mouth rested just above the space between Eddie’s jaw and earlobe, his warm lips and breath tickling him. One of Richie’s hands drifted down toward his pants and Eddie stepped on his bare foot.

“Cut it out Richie,” Eddie gasped. He realized in his daze that the pot of water was about to overflow and quickly shut it off. He carried it to the stove and set it to boil, then poured in the macaroni noodles.

He turned to him. “You’re gonna give me a heart attack one of these days.”

Richie returned his hands to his sides and smirked. “Awe, shucks. To think I have that effect on people.”

“Only me, dipshit.”

“And that’s just fine,” Richie pecked his cheek and hugged him again.

“Feeling any better, Eds?”

“After some dinner I will be.” Eddie replied while wrestling out of the bear hug to set two plates on the tile counter. Richie drained the pasta and Eddie turned off the burners.

“Like mother, like son.” Richie said philosophically at the sink.

“Be quiet,” Eddie gave his chest a playful shove and handed him the food. They sat at the table on opposite sides, and just as he was about to eat Richie stuck his fork at him.

“What are you doing?”

“Letting you try some!” Richie pushed the fork further towards Eddie’s mouth.

“I have some right here,” He gestured to his own full plate, “And you’ve been eating off that already.”

Before he could pull his fork away a few stray pieces of macaroni slipped off the fork and fell across Eddie’s shirt, staining the front with oily red sauce. Richie’s eyes widened, and he drew the fork back guiltily.

“Gross!”

“Oh, shit. Sorry Eddie! I’ll go get one of mine!” He hopped off the chair and dashed up the stairs. Eddie took the chance to eat some of the “spaghetti” before Richie returned with a fresh shirt.

“I am not wearing that,” Eddie said firmly, picking the noodles off his lap and into his empty plate.

“Just take that off and put on mine. It’s mostly clean, don’t worry. I’ll wash yours.” Richie held his shirt out to him, waiting with closed eyes for the dirty one. Eddie diverted his eyes and pulled his shirt up over his head. He threw Richie’s on hurriedly, his face was red the whole time. God, it smells just like him.

“Okay, you’re good.” Eddie told him and he opened his eyes. Richie examined him wearing his own clothes then flashed a grin.

“Why do my clothes look better on you? And the Cutie Award goes to..”

Eddie thrust the stained shirt at him. “My ass.”

“He’s not wrong, folks!” Richie shouted into the empty hallway as he went back upstairs to the laundry room.

“You want me to clean this up?” Eddie called. Richie had left a trail of dirty dishes and stray pasta noodles in his wake as they had cooked, not caring to pick up.

“Just come up here! We’ll do it later.” came his reply. By “later,” Eddie knew he meant “tomorrow.”

Eddie headed up the stairs and sat on Richie’s bed, waiting for him. Even without him there—just for a few seconds—the thoughts came racing back, like a flip of a switch, no matter if things were happy and easygoing minutes before.

He was no longer in Richie’s room. He was on the burning asphalt with a broken arm, he was running through the yard of the Neibolt house, desperate and out of breath. He was staring directly in the face of Henry Bowers, his entire arm engulfed in flames as searing as a hot iron with Patrick’s spit stuck in his eyes. He was reliving every memory.

“...Eds? What is it? What happened?” Richie appeared in the doorway but Eddie could hardly see him through the haze; he only heard his footsteps thundering in his head as he came to his side, taking his face and forcing him to look into his chocolate brown eyes.

“Eddie? Talk to me, please,” Richie was pleading, sitting down next to Eddie and keeping his hands placed firmly on his shoulders, helping to relieve his staggered breathing.

“It hurts,” Eddie said weakly but his words got choked up in a fresh wave of tears.

“Where, baby? Where does it hurt?” He searched his face and scanned his body frantically.

“God, Richie. My head..the memories, it hurts so much. They never went away,” He cried, truly feeling every ounce of that childhood pain. Richie grabbed his sides and pulled him into his lap, his face set into a hard, serious frown that left Eddie startled.

He’s always been there for me.

“N-no,” Eddie tried moving away, “I’ve been crying..It’s gross, Rich. Let me go wash my face or something.” He sniffed loudly.

“Shhh,” Richie shook his head and held him more fiercely, Eddie could feel the beating of their hearts together against his chest. He closed his eyes and counted each rhythmic thump of Richie’s heartbeat until he could breathe again.

He brought his face to Eddie’s cheek, wet with tears, and kissed him.

“Let me make it better,” Richie whispered. He moved his lips to tenderly kiss every spot on Eddie’s face: each tear, his pink nose, his eyelids.

“It’s gone, we killed It, everything’s alright now,” He kept his lips pressed to Eddie’s temple, and as he did the ache there subsided, “You’re safe with me, Eds.”

Eddie let out a shaky laugh. “You’re such a sap, Richie.”

“Only for you.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes with Richie running his hands through Eddie’s hair. He loved when Richie did this, when his gentle fingers sent shivers down his spine. His comforting touch made different tears slide down Eddie’s face.

“Is it still there? Did the nightmares go away?” Richie asked with another twinge of concern when he felt Eddie crying quietly again into his shoulder.

Eddie tucked his face into the crook of his neck to hide the embarrassment and mumbled, “No, they w-went away.”

“What’s wrong? Why are you still crying, Eddie?” Richie leaned against the headboard so he could see the smaller boy’s face and he cradled the back of his hair.

“I’ve never had someone be so..kind to me before. Not like this. No one would ever do the things you’re always doing for me. I-I don’t think I deserve it.”

Richie lifted Eddie’s legs up higher so he was more comfortable and the smaller boy snuggled in. He spoke with his chin resting on top of his head, “I know I’m kind of an ass most of the time, but I don’t mean to be. I’m always looking out for you Eds, even when you think I’m not...It’s cause I love you.”

Those three words silenced everything and left Eddie blissfully calm—despite his frantic heart.

He loves me?  

Eddie questioned it as soon as he said it, but after thinking it over he knew Richie wasn’t lying.

Who else would clean me up after a panic attack, or wake me from a nightmare, even if I was covered in sweat and tears and who knows what else? Who else would hold me the rest of the night, even if it meant he didn’t sleep?  

“I love you too,” Eddie said against his neck. And then, after a thoughtful pause,

“But don’t call me Eds.”  

#it movie #reddie #reddie fanfic #fluff and angst #angst fanfic #h/c prompt #emotional h/c #it fanfiction #teen reddie #whump fic #comfort #richie tozier x eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #not canon compliant lol

[20moonchild21]

Gif by @hoseokb

ꨄ•๛Gentleman [Hyung line]

Pairing: BTS x female!oc

Warnings: mild swearing

Words: 1400+

                                         ッ

๛匕нє σиє ωнєяє тнє вσχѕ нανє gσσ∂ мαииєяѕ∙ꨄ

♕

J̸in

Jin took a deep breath. The fresh air flooded through his body, and it felt so good. During the lockdown their balcony was the only place where he could be 'outside', but still this felt different.

It took him a while to convince his manager to actually let him go alone to the grocery story, but somehow he did it. Beside the bodyguard that walked next to him he even was almost alone. Bur he didn't mind.

As the two of them finally reached the store, Jin pulled his hat further down his face and his mask further up right under his eyes. Lucky for him, all the people had to wear those Marks now so he wouldn't stand out anymore.

"I will wait outside." His bodyguard said to him.

Jin went over to grab a shopping card and went inside the store. Slowly and step by step he went through the small list Namjoon had wrote for him this morning.

"Milk, sugar and ehhmm...." He looked over the shelves. "Ah, there they are. Noodles."

After 45 minutes he finally put the last package of flour into the shopping cart and made his way over to the checkouts. Lucky for him again, this day there weren't much people in the super marked so he wouldn't have to wait long.

"Uuurrrg...." A noise met his ear and confused he turned around to find the source, but he saw no one. As he was about to start walking he heard it again. "Coooommmeeee ooooonnnn...urrrrrg!"

Slowly, he made his way over to the passage the noises came from and what he saw made him chuckle inside.

In front of him stood a small, blonde haired girl. She stood on her tiptoes, in front of the noodle shelf, and was reaching for the last package of spaghetti which was located on the top of the shelf. Obviously, too high for her to reach because her fingers didn't even were close to the hight of the noodles.

Still chuckling, he walked up behind the small girl and easily reached for the noodles. As he passt it towards her, she smile shyly.

"Thank you. They should put some stools next to the shelves. For the small people." She joked softly and took it out from his hands.

"You're welcome." He said and smiled, too. "If you need some more help, I Am here."

"Actually, the rice was put up pretty high, too." She shyly mumbled.

y̸̸̸oongi

The award show had been successful for the boys and their management. So 3 awards, a long speech and a afterparty later, the boys found themselves in their dressing room. All of them empty of energy and tired.

"Oh man." Jimin groaned as he stretched out his legs. "I just want to sleep. Those afterparties are stressing me out."

The boys were waiting in their dressing room for the rest of their management that had accompanied them the whole evening. Those included their social media manager, bodyguards, fashion designers, some stylists, their manager and his two assistants.

"Alright, guys come one." Their manager stepped into the room and motioned for them to stand up. "Last challenge of the day: Make it out alive. Let's move!"

Together, the group made their way through the hallways and outside of the big studio the award show had took place in. Outside of the big foyer, a very large stair was leading down towards the waiting cars.

Yoongi was on of the last of the group to step through the giant doors outside. The fresh night air hit his face. It was cold but not too cold. He started walking again and as he was about to walk down the steps of the stairs, he suddenly heard a small curse behind him. Looking around he saw one of the assistant of his manager.

The small girl was wearing a beautiful gown that reached the floor and decent make up. When she stood on top of the steps, she lifted the hem of her dress and began to carefully walk down those steep stairs. Yoongi saw her struggling to keep her dress up and not fall over that heels at the same time.

Immediately, he turned around and held out his arm for the girl to hold on. Unsure what to do, she first looked at his outstretched arm and then at his face, before she carefully wrapped her right arm around his left one.

"Thank you." She shyly said while the duo made their way down the steps.

Yoongi, the man with few words, didn't made a scene out of it. He simply smiled and nodded politely.

(I laughed so hard when I found this picture)

h̸oseok

It was the time of the year the company held their yearly group dinner which basically means that that whole stuff crew came together for lunch or dinner.

The boys were all wearing their suits and currently waiting in front of the restaurant for their interpreter to show up.

Yes, for this dinner the boys needed an interpreter because many of the cooperation partners that would join them this evening were foreigners.

"Urrg!" Yoongi groaned while he tapped his feet nervously on the ground. "I hate those dinners. Honestly, why do they need us there? They are just talking about business stuff."

"Because you are the face of BigHit, Yoongs." The small girl, their interpreter, said and laughed at the boys eyes rolling.

She wore a beautiful dress that reached her knees, along with some heals und decent make up.

A few minutes later, the group found themselves inside the restaurant that was completely reserved for this company dinner.

"Okay, guys." Their manager had came up to them. "Your table is over there. I want you too behave and show your best side. We need these cooperations. No noodle slurping contest, no fries in the nose and I don't want you to test who can put the most chicken nuggets in his mouth. I am serious! Grace, you watch them, right?"

The girl nodded but even she couldn't hide her smile at those memories. After all, she had been with the boys from the beginning.

When the eighth of the reached their table, Hoseok suddenly made a big step next to her, reached for her chair and pulled it back gesturing for the girl to sit down. Surprised by this gesture, she blushed  a little bit but smile.

"How obliging of you." She said quietly while he sat down next to her. "Thank you, Hobi."

n̸amjoon

Heavy rain drops fell down on earth and Namjoon. Jin had told him this morning to be back by 1 o'clock or else the rain would catch him, which is exactly what was happening right now.

Lucky him, the reception woman at the BigHit building had something like a spare umbrella for him to use. He had pulled the collar of his coat tighter around his neck, before he opened the umbrella.

He walked faster through the street of Seoul and with every step you could hear the squishy sound of his heavy shoes hitting the wet ground. As he was halfway home, the tall boy noticed something in the corner of his eyes.

Waiting at a traffic light was a girl. She was way shorter than him, but that wasn't the only thing that caught his attention immediately.

The small girl had wrapped her arms tightly around the thin coat she wore while her blonde hair (he assumed she had blond hair but because it was soaked by the rain it looked much darker) sticked to her head and face.

Namjoon chuckled a little bit to himself: It seems like he wasn't the only one that got surprised by this weather.

Without thinking much, we walked closer to the girl and when he was close enough he reached out his arm to hold his umbrella over he body.

For a short moment the girl looked confused at the stranger that just had showed up next to her, but when she realized what he was doing, Namjoon could see a small shade of red spreading over her cheeks.

"You looked like you needed it, too." He smiled friendly down at her, while taking a step closer so he could stand under the piece of fabric, too. Though, he always paid attention to not step too close toward the stranger girl.

"Thank you." She politely said back and bowed her head a little bit.

———————————/////—————————

Hello!

I had so much fun writing this!

Maknae line is following!

Having any recommendations, requests or anything else? Please don't hesitate to write me!

Stay healthy and safe

~ M.

#bts scenarios #bts #bts scenes #bts reactions #bts imagines #bts imagination #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #jung hoseok #yoongi min #jeon jungguk #jimin park #taehyung kim #gentleman #bangtan #Korea #kpop