#i need that tripod yo

[s-4pphics]

click! 4 (e.w.)

SYNOPSIS: you need a roommate, and you love eggplant. [college au]

WORD COUNT: 6.7k 

WARNINGS: photographer/roommate!ellie, ocs an artist with a rep and black, angst… these hoes toxic, crazy sexual tension, kissing!!! :), fondling, dry humping, fingering!!, some dirty talk uh oh, slight unrequited love, bad communication… like awful, more slut shaming, mentions of awful parents, brief mention of alc and weed

This eucalyptus face mask is not doing what it’s supposed to! 

Ultimate calming effect! Relaxation is at your feet and on your face! 

… Yeah, right. Why is your blood pressure touching the ceiling, then? 

It’s fucking Sunday and it’s dark outside. It’s not even seven yet. You can hear rustling in the living room and you know Ellie’s prepping for today. Your anxiety is through the roof and in the clouds! 

Why the fuck did you accept this much responsibility again? What if you look like a fucking idiot and she fires you? Is this even a job if it’s a one-time thing? Your hands are sweating. Is it too late to jump out your window and plummet to your death?

Meow! Meow! 

“Good morning, baby girl! Are you hungry?” You hear Ellie coo through the wall and your heart sores. You'd be smiling so wide if this mask wasn’t solid concrete. 

You walk into the living room and are blinded by the bright ceiling lights. Your bill is going to skyrocket! 

“Hi.” 

Ellie, cat in arms, jumps at your voice, spinning to face you. Your skin is on fire as her eyes glaze over your appearance, cheeks tinting and fingers twitching under the thick fur. 

“Hey… you look… you look nice,” She mutters back, and you smile. 

“Thank you.” 

Meow!

Ellie’s brow arches at the baby. “Yeah? You think so, too?” 

Meow! Meow!

Ellie sets her down and lets her roam, shoving her hands into her sweats. She takes a step closer. “What’re we gonna name her?” 

“Toothle— “

Ellie rolls her eyes, “Oh my god, that’s so fucking basic.”

“Well, excuse me! I’ll shut the fuck up!” You snark playfully, “What were you thinking, Ms. I don’t fuck with animals?”

“I already told yo— “

“AHT, AHT!” You hold a finger up to hush her and she scoffs, “Toothless is one of the best animated characters of our time! Loyal, cute as fuck! Fuck everybody else in that movie! Show the drag—”

“Pickle.” 

“What.” 

“I’ve been calling her Pickle! Her name is pickle.” Ellie’s smiling at the pattering kitten, and, for some reason, you don’t fight her on it. She looks so happy; Pickle it is. 

She’s clicking her tongue at Pickle who rubs against her covered leg. With those gray sweats on, she’s luring two cats over—

“You ready?” Ellie exhales. Your eyes widen, yanked out of your drifting thoughts. You nod gently, jitters kicking in your fingertips. 

“Sorry you had to wake up this early. It takes a while for me to edit and all that, but— “

“Ellie, don’t worry! I’m — I’m excited! Just, uh… Just guide me, I guess. You’re the one with the vision.” You’re not sure if the shoot or Ellie is making you nervous. She smells so good, freshly showered and warmth radiating off of her. 

“… Guide you?” She smirks. 

Suddenly, the air is hot. “Yeah, like… tell me what to do… f-for the shot.” You awkwardly point at the set. 

“Giving me permission to use you?” She wisps and your lashes flutter, head bobbing dumbly in approval. The other cat has made her appearance! She’s meowing! Somebody stop her! 

“Alright, then… go sit.” Ellie’s head nods towards the black stool in the middle of the backdrop, and you’re moving like a trackstar, plopping down on the stool. Ellie clicks her tongue again and Pickle meows. 

“Gonna put her in my room for now. Don’t wanna scare her.” She scoops Pickle up and waddles into the short hallway, giving kit-kat one last kiss before softly shutting her door. 

Your catless roomie is in front of you in an instant, fiddling with that big ass umbrella before adjusting her tripod. 

“So, explain. What does all this do?” 

“Um…” she looks through her camera lense. Right at you, “Different things. Has to do with light control for the most part. Red is your color, by the way.” 

You gaze at your fit; You’re going to cry. “Thanks.” 

“Mhm.” 

Some silence passes before Ellie grumbles, “You’re slouching.” 

Your shoulders instantly straighten. Maybe too much, “No, I’m not.” 

A blank look from Ellie as she peeks from behind the lense, “Don’t slouch. You’re the star, remember?” She jabs jokingly. You take a deep breath. Another clumsy adjustment trying to find a pose. 

Ellie snorts as she watches you struggle, and you pout. “I'm sorry! I don’t know…” You move like a robot and she laughs. Why is she walking closer? Oh, fuck— 

“Here.” Her hands grab your shoulders, and you go lax, right in her grasp, allowing her to move you however she wants. Her touch is melting your skin through your sleeves. 

“Just… stay there.” Three wide steps, and she’s behind her camera, “Chin down a little.” She mutters. She’s encouraging with every instruction you follow, and you’re relaxing. Your movements are small, but by the series of bright flashes, they must be good enough to capture. You hope. Please, God. 

“Stay right there. That’s perfect.” 

“That’s it. Yeah, put your leg there.” 

“Twist your body a little.” 

I like that look, that’s good. Keep doing that. 

You don’t know what your eyes are doing, but Ellie's eating it up. She doesn’t know what her words are doing for your confidence. She’s in your ears, in your presence, encouraging everything you’re giving the flashing camera. Your poses get bolder, eyes going softer the more you inspect her. 

“Chin down again. Like… look through your lashes…” 

Ellie’s so focused on you and it’s making your mouth water. She’s so calm and controlling, but not overbearing. She lets you take the reins and yanks them when she’s got something. The twist of your wrist, the flutter of your lashes, the doting expression on your face. It’s sparking something in her, you can see it from where you sit. She's so attractive when she’s working. 

And then she smiles and your heart leaps. Flash. 

“You like this.” She notes. 

Another flash when you smile, “A little. This is fun.” 

“Oh, yeah? I’m getting booked for your grad pics?” 

Not if you fail statistics! “Gonna have to ask my dad! He’s picky!” 

She hums with a light chuckle. “You look good in these. He’ll like me.” 

More flashes, and there’s scratching at Ellie’s door. She sighs like it pains her to continue, “Hold on, baby! Almost done!” She coos at Pickle. 

She mutters, “I’m gonna take, like… ten more. The mood’s gonna change a little if that’s cool.” 

You stop yourself from slouching. “Sure, uh… what do I do now?” 

“Imagine love as a vice. Think about the turmoil that comes with losing that feeling for somebody.” 

Your mind instantly whirls to Dina and your heart cracks. What a turn of fucking events! 

“Um… is that like… isn’t that like, a lot?” 

Ellie’s unfazed, “Emotions are a lot. That’s the point.” 

You don’t like this anymore. Vulnerability. Blegh. “… Okay.” 

She’s waiting on you, but you’re frozen. You can’t stop thinking about every moment you and Dina spent together. Everything was so… good. It was filled with happiness. You anticipated every day that came because it meant you’d see her. 

“Alright?” 

You look up at Ellie’s call. You ignore her. 

“Am I emoting well?” You snicker sarcastically. You’re aching inside. 

She studies you, all over your face, but you’re stunted. You don’t know what to say.

“Yes.” She whispers, and you nod, mind wandering to the darkest parts of your memory. You miss being happy. The camera’s flashing, but you’re unperturbed. How much will you be able to ruin before you die? If your wallowing is jeopardizing the shot, Ellie doesn’t comment on it. You focus on the clock ticks coming from the kitchen. 

Ellie’s gentle voice pulls you from underwater after a while, “Okay… I think that’s it.” Your breath is ragged and your fingers won’t stop twitching. You’re up from your seat with a breathy okay, sliding into the kitchen and stealing a water bottle from the fridge. There’s cluttering behind you but you’re desperately downing your drink. 

She's closer than you think. Right behind you, actually! You almost choke when her hand softly closes around your bicep.

“Hey, um… You okay?”

You swallow harshly and nod, blinking away tears; She’s so close, “Love fucking sucks.” You joke wetly. 

A laugh that caresses your ears escapes her, “Damn. Fuck that shit, then.” 

“Finally, someone gets it! Fuck, like…” You set your water down and wipe away heavy droplets with your free arm. Ellie’s eyes travel over your face, lands of green sparkling in her pupils. 

“I really appreciate you doing this for me.” She whispers. 

“Of course!” Your smile is delicate, “I hope there’s something in there you can use.” 

Her head shakes, smile as gentle as rose petals, “I got it, trust me.” 

The silence that follows is heavy, your breaths in sync. “Was… Are you okay?” You’ve never seen her eyes this delicate. You nod, eyes dropping to her mouth on instinct. You’re suddenly back in your car, you and Ellie leaning over the center console to get to each other. Her breath is hitting your face again, and you’re itching for her to kiss you. 

She’s reading your body language the closer she gets, checking in, memorizing every green light you’re giving her. 

“Ellie…” You can’t even hear yourself. Her hand unravels from your arm, frosting your sizzling cheek like snowflakes. Her warmth is engulfing you, and with one last breath, her lips connect with yours. It's short lasting, though. Ellie pulls away, shock plastered on her face. 

She's stuttering and slowly backing away… or something like that. You’re not listening, nor do you want an apology. You grab the drawstring dangling from her gray hoodie and yank her closer, mouth pressing against hers. 

Ellie’s stiffness melts, weightless against you as your mouths mold together. She's sighing, arm wrapping around your waist, warmth simmering between your closed bodies. Your arms wrap around her neck as she inches forward, small steps until you're pressed against the marble. 

The kiss is slow and steady. You both give in to each other, studying, memorizing every inch of her mouth. Gentle smacks sound in the silent space of the kitchen, clammy hands traveling anywhere they can reach: the nape of her neck, massages on your hips, steadying your stumbles as you push against her. Your fingers inch upwards until they're at her sloppily done bun, loosening the hair tie and pulling as gently as you can, soft strands wrapping around your digits like vines. 

Ellie’s humming and her hips push against you, so you pull again, smiling gently into the kiss. She pushes again, harder this time, hips languid as they trap you against the counter. Your thighs widen for her, and she takes the lead, hands digging into your thighs and lifting you onto the granite. 

The kiss turns desperate swiftly after, Ellie’s tongue pushing past your mouth, her hands slowly pulling your tucked shirt from your pants. You’re biting at her lip, caressing her thighs over her sweats, trapping her between your legs, keeping her close. 

One last wet smack and you’re traveling down her jaw to the side of her neck, littering kisses all over her burning skin. You try not to make your inhales too obvious, but you can’t help it. Her scent drives you up a wall. 

She follows your lead, trailing sloppy kisses down your neck, sucking the skin, lightly scratching at the skin on your hips. She yanks you closer, nearly sitting you on top of her, ass barely on the counter—

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK!

You both jolt like you’ve been caught, a thin line of spit connecting your bottom lips. 

“Expecting someone?” She mumbles dazedly, and you silently deny. “Are you?” 

“Be serious.” She says flatly. 

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK! 

The pounds on the door aren’t shit to Ellie, apparently; Her lips are back on you in a second. A gasp surges through you, “Oh, fuck! What if someone saw Pickle and they’re tryna— “

“She’ll be fine,” she whines between suckles on your throat. 

You whimper wantonly, but the knocks get aggressive. It has to be Carol! You don’t want Ellie to stop, but you push her.

“E—Ellie— “

She releases you with an annoyed huff, giving you enough room to hop off the counter. Scratches and meows alert you once more, and you run to the front door, whisper-yelling to Ellie, “Hide Pickle! Hide her!”

“Okay, okay, damn,” She sighs in annoyance, heading back down the hallway. You can hear Ellie’s soft shushes to the kitty, meows swiftly replaced with purrs. You think Pickle has chosen her favorite parent. 

You yank the door open and your heart plummets. 

“Hey, uh… hi.” Abby’s voice cracks and her nose is glowing red. Your heart pulls in your chest at the sight of her soft eyes. 

“Hi, Abby,” You say softly. She shyly peers at her feet. “How are you?”

A soft smile spreads across her face, “I’m not here to talk about me, I wanna apologize. I, um… I wanted to call but I thought I’d do it in person.” 

“No need. I’m sorry, to— “

But Abby isn’t having it, dropping onto one knee in the middle of the complex hallway, taking your hand in hers, “Oh, how I treated Thee, for I am full of regret. What do I owe Thou the pleasure of forgiveness?” 

You holler laughter, “Bitch, is that a question? What the fuck do I say to that.” 

“… I actually don’t know, what the fuck— “

“You’re actually the fucking worst, get up,” You’re pulling your friend to her feet and wrapping your arms around her neck, pressing light kisses to her cheek. She lifts you and carries you inside, kicking the door shut. 

“Was it Carol?” 

You barely hear your roommate from behind you. Abby sets you down, and you’re met with a… blank Ellie. This version of her is almost unfamiliar. 

“Hm?”

“Was,” Her eyes flicker towards your friend, “Was it Carol?” Your eyes flicker to Abby, confused as ever. 

“Um, no, thank God, right?” You laugh awkwardly, “Ellie, this is Abby. Abby, this is Ellie, my new roomie.” 

Abby slaps on her signature smile, extending her hand in greeting, “Nice to meet you. I heard a lot.”

Ellie’s eyes flicker between Abby’s hand and her face, eyes squinted. She only nods before murmuring to you, “Pickle’s fed. Lock the door if you leave.” 

Your mouth drops, but before you can say anything, Ellie’s door slams shut, lock clicking, barricading herself, shut off from the outside. Pickle scurries into your open space at the noise. A stunned Abby finally drops her hand and turns to you with an expression reading I told you so. Your heart jolts and it’s painful. 

“C’mon,” Abby coos, hands massaging your shoulders, “I owe you pancakes.” 

You try to smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. Not like it should at the mention of a free meal. For some reason, you feel guilty. 

IHOP needs to have their holiday menus all year round; These cinnamon roll pancakes are fucking lethal! You shoved your platter down and already want seconds. Abby’s too sweet to you. 

“Abby.” 

“Hm?” She gnaws at her turkey bacon. 

“I’m in a predicament.” 

“What’s the matter.” 

“I think I like Ellie.” 

Your friend pauses before sighing, “Alright. So, what’s the plan?” 

“To die, I think. That’s the only plan.” 

“Don’t say that,” she chuckles. You shrug. 

“We made out and I liked it,” You whisper, “Like, a lot.” 

“Did y’all smash?” You shake your head. 

“Are you gonna tell her?” 

You scoff, “Did you miss the part where I said to die? I’d rather die. She hates my fucking guts all over again.” 

“I don’t think she does.” 

“You don’t know her, Abby— “

“I know a jealous munch when I see one,” She smirks, “I was one for a long time.” 

Your jaw drops, “Really? With who?” 

She grins, but it doesn’t meet her eyes, “Don’t worry about it.” 

You pout. Why didn’t she tell you?! Poor thing. You place a comforting hand on top of hers.

“Promise to tell me before graduation. I need some shit to look forward to.” 

“Like you’re gonna remember.” 

“Fuck off! I never forget anything!” 

“Yeah, anyway, your roomie was jealous— “

Your shoulders drop and your eyes roll. Ellie and jealousy? Together? Bullshit. Tomfoolery. Fake news. 

“Abby, I can't tell her— “

“Can’t or won’t?” Abby arches a brow, “You know what you do and don’t want. You’re creating stupid rules that combat your feelings and wonder why you end up hurt. Cut it out.” 

… Either face your fears of abandonment or die alone. Interesting ultimatum. You choose the latter. 

“You’re very easy to read, believe it or not. You like her. Accept it or move on,” Abby mumbles around her extra-crispy hash brown. 

You sigh. You’ve accepted it a long time ago; That's the issue. The only thing that can help you right now is more fucking cinnamon roll pancakes. Abby better leave this apology tab open. 

You’re hit with the usual warmth of the apartment the second you step in, finding Ellie on the couch with her feet kicked up, mindlessly fiddling with your favorite pen. Her silence makes your skin crawl; You never know what she’s thinking. 

“So, what,” You shrug, setting your to-go bag on the counter, “Are you just gonna pout or are we gonna have an adult conversation?” 

“I don’t think you’re capable of that,” She mumbles. 

“What does that mean?” 

“It means what it sounds like. You’re fucking immature and inconsiderate.” 

Your heart nearly stops, “I’m— “

She slices through your words, “Save that I don’t know what you mean bullshit for someone else. If you and that bitch are still fucking, why the fuck did you kiss me?” 

Her accusation makes you snap, “First of all, I haven’t fucked Abby in weeks! And even if I did, that’s none of your fucking business! I can do whatever the fuck I want and I don’t need to explain myself to you! And you kissed me first so don’t start!” 

A grin grows on Ellie face, head tipping back onto the couch as she laughs to herself, sighing in disbelief, “I never thought I would regret a kiss so much in my fucking life, oh my god.” 

You scoff, ignoring the sudden ache in your chest, “Fuck you.” 

“You want to.” 

You hate how heat builds in your stomach, “I want to?” You snark, “You shoved your tongue in my mouth a few hours ago. You want to. Don’t fucking piss me off.” 

You stomp to your room before Ellie can say anything above her laughter. Your door slams and you pace across your small room. You ignore the stress building deep in your joints; The term is almost over. You don’t need this fucking bullshit on your back right now! 

To think you and Ellie were starting to get on good terms. If she wants to play that game, then fine; You’ve mastered the sport at this point! The kiss meant nothing to you either!

You hope her Christmas is fucking awful and she finds nothing but a pile of fucking rocks in her marijuana sock. What a cunt—

Meow! Meow!

Your heart pulls at the small scratches at your door. You need your baby to give you some love since a certain someone won’t. Pickle calls out until you open the door, but your sad smile disappears at the sight of that someone propped against your door frame. 

“She wanted her mommy.” Ellie nods down at the kitten rubbing against your leg. 

“Fuck you.” You spit. 

“Fuck you.” 

“Fuck you!” You shout and lean closer, but she doesn’t seem threatened. That same sparkle in her eye is back, and, suddenly, your body’s flaming for another reason. The tip of her nose twitches, once, twice, three times, and you refuse to hold back any longer. 

You grab her face and kiss her. Kiss her as hard as you can. She’s so fucking aggravating; Why can’t she ever mind her fucking business? You’re sick of her clocking your pussy! The kiss is hot and quick and it sends vibrations down to your toes. It’s not until gentle purring fills your ears that you gasp and separate from your roommate. 

You bend down to pick up your little princess. Ellie’s lips reconnect with your neck the second you're upright. “Did she eat?” You mutter. 

“Mhm. Twice.” You nod and kiss her small, furry head, “She’s gonna be scratching at the door.” You ponder to yourself. 

“We’ll make it quick,” She mumbles in between harsh sucks to your throat, nibbles at your lobe. You escape the attention for a split second to grab Pickle’s small toy mouse from your dresser, tossing it down the hall and into the living room. Her small paws skip across the floor as she slides the trinket all over the hardwood. 

“We’re not fucking.” You say harsher than necessary. 

“I didn’t ask.”

You gently shut the door and jump Ellie’s bones, releasing all your pent-up frustration and anger into another kiss. The formerly gentle tugs of her hair are replaced with harsh yanks that expose her throat. Seconds pass and she’s pushing you onto your unmade bed, body bouncing before she climbs on top of you, reconnecting your mouths in the sloppiest kiss you’ve ever shared… It’s doing something to your cooter, though. You’re wet as fuck. 

Ellie’s fully onto top of you, body almost overheating from the layers of clothes between you. Her hips are sharp when they push into yours, swallowing all your stunned gasps and pleasured sighs. Your body is on fire and it’s making you lightheaded, but she feels so good on top. 

Ellie’s cursing against your mouth and she bucks into you, right against the muscle of your thigh, and you just watch the flames spread in her orbs. Not the comforting greenery that you could get lost in for days. The trees are black and surrounded by clustered rubble. She’s grunting against your cheek, her nose hitting yours with every thrust. 

A bold hand creeps between both your bodies and slips right into her wrinkly sweats, beneath her underwear, fingers drenched in seconds. You smirk when she whimpers your name between swears, palming the bud that throbs like a beating heart. Blush tints her cheeks the wetter she gets, pooling in your hand as you grind into her clit. 

Ellie’s cute. You’ll give her that. So, you rub her harder. 

“Agh, fuck, fuck— “

You're snickering to yourself but Ellie doesn’t care. She’s whining like a little bitch and humping you like a dog… 

Does she top? You should ask her after this. Post-nut gay quiz. 

“Finger me, put your— oh shit— “

“Hmm…” You suck your teeth, “Nah.” 

She glares down at you, leaving fiery holes in your cheek, “Don’t f—fucking piss me off right now.” 

You halt all your movements. “That’s all you’ve been doing since you got in this bitch. Shut the fuck up and take what I give you…” You pause, “Or get the fuck off me. Your choice.” 

A full one-eighty, truly. How she goes from looking at you with intent to kill to a wounded puppy in seconds. Poor thing wants a treat. Your entire hand is drenched in her juices; She can wait a little longer. 

“You ate my fucking Doritos.” 

“W—What?” She sounds like she’s going to cry. You can’t stop smiling. 

Slow circles on her clit, and her body wracks on top of you, “The ones I hid in the cabinet… Nasty little thief. Gonna buy me some more?” 

Her breathing is so rapid, “You’re so s—stupid fuck— “ 

“You’re gonna do more than that… gonna show me what’s in that fucking portfolio like you promised.” You whisper, hot against her face. 

This is the strangest dirty talk you’ve ever partaken in, but Ellie’s losing it on top of you. She hasn’t shut up yet. She’s hiding her face in your neck, words vibrating against your skin. You don’t know what she said, so you stop again. She sobs. 

You sound sweeter than candy, “What was that?” 

Ellie doesn’t answer. Just pants into your skin. You pat her clit a few times and she jerks to attention. “I asked you a question.” 

“Feels,” She heaves, “Feels so fucking good— “

“I didn’t ask you that.”

“I’ll show you — fuck, okay? Okay, okay, m’so close— “

Your thumb brushes against her clit, “I wanna see it after you nut.” 

She gasps words miles per minute, “I promise, Ipromise, touch me keep touching me— “

Ellie attempts to grind into your hand once more, but you stretch, slippery fingers sliding lower until the tip of your index catches onto her pulsing hole. You can barely hear, but she’s begging. Thank God you trimmed your nails. 

You push in gently, Ellie’s teeth grazing the skin right underneath your ear. A shiver runs down your spine. She grins before biting down on it. You moan into the boiling air. Your finger gets swallowed by her walls; She’s so fucking tight and soft and she’s clenching with every moan, your thighs squeezing around her hips. 

Ellie continues to grind on top of you, practically riding your finger, her moans increasing in volume. 

“E-Ellie, look at me, sit up—“ She doesn’t hesitate, clammy forehead resting on yours as you stare into her glossy, lustful eyes. They’re fluttering with every deep grind of your arched digit and your heart skips a beat. 

“Gimme one more, stretch me out,” she exhales onto your lips

“Sure?” You breathe. 

She groans, “Yeah, fuck, m’gonna cum when you do— “

“You gotta cute face,” you whisper and giggle when her eyes squeeze shut in embarrassment, middle finger popping past the small entrance 

“Fuck, babe, s’right there— “

Your walls clench at the name. Now you’re whining, “Gimme it. Hurry up so I can play with my kid.” 

“O-Our fucking kid—“ She chokes. 

You hum playfully, “Oddly domestic. Is this what marriage is like? Quickies in the laundry room when the baby’s watching Cocomelon?” 

“No — fuck, do you ever shut the fuck up?” You can’t even move from hard her walls are choking you, “M’cumming, Jesus fucking— son of a— “

Ellie’s walls grip your fingers as she trembles on top of you, lips crashing onto yours as she groans in your mouth, and you smile. You should’ve spit on her tongue, but you held back. She’s not ready. Fucking gremlin. 

Her orgasm rocks her into exhaustion, her body going completely limp on top of you as her hips twitch into your touch. You stare up at the ceiling, mind racing. 

You technically didn’t fuck! Your pussy is quite convincing. You didn’t, but you want to! 

“We didn’t fuck.” You mumble. 

She huffs dryly, voice low. Here comes the goosebumps! “Sure.” 

“We didn’t,” you bemoan and pull out, slick smearing on both your clothes before you present the wet digits in front of your face. Ellie finally lifts her head to join the inspection of your drenched, wrinkly fingers. She smells good. 

“Go wash your hands,” she croaks. 

“Mind your business.” You suck them clean and she snorts, rolling off and onto the bed. You sit up to open the door for Pick-Pick, but Ellie grabs your bicep. 

“What?” 

“You… You don’t want to…?” 

You look around blankly. 

“Do you want me to do something… like an exchange?” 

You’re not sure how to answer, but thankfully, curious meows and light scratching distract the both of you. You’re moving like a robot into the living room, Ellie right on your tail, cooing at the baby who rubs all over her. 

You take a seat on the… lavender-scented cushion. She bought a new freshener. 

“Ellie.” 

“What.” 

“I don’t like you.” 

A scoff from her, “I don’t care.” 

You pause. “… Wanna sniff my punani?” You mock. 

She takes a seat, swiftly followed by Pickle, and turns her head in your direction, lip between her teeth, “Can I?” 

“What.” 

“Just a whiff.” She hums between snickers. The sensors in your brain are on fire. Ellie is so confusing. 

You scratch your ear, stealing her habit, “You… You want to?” 

She grabs your discarded pen from the coffee table, “You want me to?” 

Yes. “No.” 

Ellie nods and continues to fiddle with it, obnoxiously clicking it over and over. She doesn’t fight you on it. How embarrassing. You really need head. 

Your eyes meet your sock-covered feet, “… I was just kidding,” You mumble. 

More pen clicking. “Come here for a second.” Your feet carry you at her grumble, plopping down onto the lavender-scented cushion. New freshener. 

“Is this gonna be… a regular thing?” 

Your head shakes a ton. It most definitely will not. You can’t take your eyes off how Ellie flips her pen. Her hands are bewitching. You need them in your throat again. 

“I think we… just needed to get it out of our system?” You suggest. Unfortunately, it seems neither of you are convinced. 

Pickle climbs up your sweatshirt, head rubbing against your chin. You peck her nose, “Why do you think that.” Ellie asks. 

“I’m not fucking someone I live with.” Your words are blunt, but Ellie doesn’t seem shaken by them. 

“Why.” 

“Because.” You say with finality. 

She sighs, “Because you’re scared of getting your feelings hurt by someone you care about again?” 

The bomb she drops is unexpected, but causes even more damage. Your shoulders immediately tense, on guard, “What the fuck…” How did she…

Ellie winces, “Don’t uh… don’t be mad…” 

“Why the fuck— how do you even know that?” 

“Dina told me.” She blurts and you jump from your seat, glowering at the girl who sheepishly taps her fingers on the couch. 

“The fuck do you mean Dina told you— “

More word-vomit. How long was she holding this shit from you? “S-She was my roommate. She’s the reason I got evicted— “

Your throat is closing, “…Is this a fucking joke?”

Ellie cowers at your tone, “Not really.” 

“When the fuck were you going to tell me that you’re friends with my fucking ex?!”

“We’re not friends!” She says meekly. “And you weren’t official— “

“It doesn’t fucking matter, Ellie! What the fuck!” Your efforts of holding tears back fail, as usual. You’re sick of crying in front of this broad. “She fu—fucking ruined my life!” The stares you get will never fail to make you sick. 

Ellie’s eyes remind you of glass. Breakable. You holler through sniffles, “Is that why you called me a fucking slut! Because that bitch told you some fake ass, fucked-up story about me whoring around campus?!” 

“Dude, I’m— “

“I fucked over the sweetest fucking girl on campus, right? The world’s best fucking pitcher got her heart broken by some low-life fucking artist with no future!” You rant until your breath is short, “I was fucking in love with her! I-I wanted to be with her, I would’ve died for her! I’m— “

Your hands desperately grasp at your chest to get your heart to ease the knocking against your ribcage. 

“You think I-I’m fucking easy, right? That’s why you came onto me earlier? ‘Cuz I’m a fucking whore?! A desperate sl—slut with no self-worth— “

The space you found comfort in is rapidly filling with darkness; You’re being sucked into a void of nothing and you can’t think. Ellie doesn’t move, just stares over you with feeble pupils, hand clutched around that pen, the end of it leaving an indent in her sweats. 

Pickle plops down onto your feet as you cry. You take her into your arms and hold her as close as possible, scurrying into your room. You fall back against the door and it slams, sliding down the wood as Kit-Kat nuzzles your chin. She’s the sweetest fucking thing in the world. How could such an angel be left in the snow to die? 

Time moves in a blur as you weep. Your mom would’ve held you if she were here. 

What you would give for some parental guidance. You almost called your father. 

Almost. 

Click, click, click, click, click—

One, two, three, four. Breathe in, Breathe out. Five, six—

Thank God for your fucking custom pen. The noise is enough to distract her from breaking down in your tiny living room. She should’ve snagged Pickle before you did; She needs a fucking hug. 

Ellie hates being yelled at. More than anything. More than you. God, she fucking despises you. 

You look and sound nothing like her mother, but you’re oddly alike. She pondered whether or not that was the reason she was drawn to you; She always finds herself trapped in spaces with fucking deflectors. 

She hasn’t even begun editing the photos from earlier. At this point, she doesn’t even want to use them. It’s a shame your eyes are so expressive; She would’ve burned the pictures she took of you the second you left with that bitch if she wasn’t so crunched for time. She needs to submit them so she can get the fuck out of here. 

You’d be an excellent actress; You have emotions down pact on camera. The dark part of her brain convinced her that you were thinking of her with that doting, yearnful look in your eye. 

The photography company keeps sending her emails about completing her work profile and her fucking portfolio submission. That’s the only form of motivation she has left, and even then, she hasn’t revisited those photos. She doesn’t have much time to make them perfect. 

Ellie swallows the lump in her throat over and over, thumb pressing down, down, down. She can’t stop clicking your fucking pen. Just don’t cry. 

Your sobs almost get her there, almost push her over the edge, but she shuts her eyes and counts each click, matching them with every heave she releases. You, somehow, sound just like her fucking mom. 

And Ellie, despite the backwards relationship between the two of you, still fucking kissed you. She should’ve died right there in front of you. What a fucking joke. 

But she couldn’t stop. She didn’t want to. She’s never experienced affection like that; It was passionate and made her itch with a desire she hasn’t felt in a long time. All she wants is for someone to love her, hold her like you did, touch her like you did. She’s never felt that euphoric in her life, never witnessed so many bright colors at once. 

Whoever told her being alone was easy was a fucking liar. No one should wake up and want to die every day, so why does she? Everyone thinks she prefers silence, but she doesn’t. Ellie craves contact in all forms. In any form. Desperately. 

Why did it have to be you? Why the fuck did it have to be you. 

Her brain is telling her she can’t wait to move out, so why is her heart amidst decay whenever she thinks about it? She’s going to suffocate in here, so she rises, pen still in hand, and snags her puffer and beanie from the couch. Her feet shove into her boots and she’s out, the front door slamming shut. She didn’t even bother to lock it. 

Ellie takes the stairs and leaves the building on autopilot, no destination in mind. Just stomping through the splintering cold like a fucking yeti. Every breath oxidizes in a cloud before her as she recalls where she fumbled with you. 

Dina. 

Ellie’s cold hands frost her face as she wipes it, making sharp turns and stumbling on ice. She wants to go home; She misses her dad. 

Dina seems to be the only thing you two have in common. You both might hate her more than each other. The horror she felt when her ex-roommate taped that eviction notice on her door is incomparable. Ellie was a struggling entrepreneur and practically fucking homeless overnight. All because Dina’s new fucking side piece. 

Ellie and Dina, friends. Wait until she tells you about how she almost beat her and her girlfriend’s ass. If you’re even willing to listen at this point. 

Ellie continues to walk, hands tucked under her armpits. At least she’s not simmering anymore in her rage anymore. She blocks down the way when she realizes she forgot her fucking phone. This would’ve been a perfect time to cry to her old man. 

You’re not out of Ellie’s system at all. You’ve, unfortunately, claimed residency inside of her. 

You’re scribbling with spilled wine on your shirt, outside noise muffled by the plugs in your ears. You don't recall leaving your room, grabbing a bottle and downing its contents, but the remnants of broken glass acts as a decent reminder. 

Your hand is cramping from its grip on a new pen, but you can’t stop gliding the tip across the sixth sheet of printer paper. You hate what you’re drawing; The details are perfect, inked scratches practically muscle memory, and you despise it. It’s always her.

You’re going to be alone for a very long time. You’re too destructive for companionship, you’ve learned. How ironic: the one aspect of life you crave is becoming your demise, and your downfall is going to be tortuous. Recovery is never long lasting for you. 

So, you sketch. And scratch. And erase, start again, hoping, praying, for an outcome that doesn’t feel so lost. You’re destroyed and desperate to find comfort. Was your father right when he called you sick at age twelve? Maybe something is truly wrong with you. Maybe one of the reasons why you constantly push and mask and hide. 

Every insecurity you’ve garnered in high school is flourishing in adulthood, thick as vines and as strong as tree bark. Deflection is an art that you’ve mastered out of preservation; Too bad it’s trapped you in isolation. 

The green in Ellie’s eyes holds stories. Somehow, this month feels like centuries. Centuries of studying the mass area of blossoming, healthy land beneath her pupils. Her eyes are sacred, almost too sacred to manipulate, but you draw them anyway. 

You want to touch her again. You want her to touch you. Just one last time. You’re already a fucking failure; One last mistake wouldn’t hurt. 

A teardrop musses the paper, so you scrap it like the others and start again. Ellie’s eyes are too pretty to be smudged. 

You can’t stay here anymore. You hope Amaya understands. You hope Ellie understands. 

You’d give anything to be able to call your mother. 

You hear the front door open and close for the hundredth time tonight, followed by swift clicks of a pen. Guilt floods your system. You peer at a sleeping Pickle on your mattress before standing, opening your door to see Ellie entering hers. Your intoxicated brain notes the sex lighting in her room; Red LED. You talk before thinking. 

“I didn’t mean to yell at you.” She jumps and turns at your cracked voice, eyes red. She smoked; you can smell it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to— “

“I’m submitting my portfolio in the morning. I’ll be out by Christmas.” She says, monotone. Lifeless. 

A dry huff escapes your closed throat. Your heart is breaking. Just a little, “I guess, uh… I can’t see it anymore, huh?” She doesn’t answer. 

“Do you regret taking those pictures?” She mumbles.

You don't hesitate, “Not at all.”

She nods. The silence that follows is thick, weighing at both of your shoulders, holding you in place. Ellie’s breathing is finally steady, and it’s calming. 

“Go to bed.” She whispers before entering her room, gently shutting it behind her. Some tears fall before you follow her lead. 

Pickle is sitting on the edge of your bed, just watching you. You smile sadly and whisper, “At least you love me, right?” 

A gentle blink from her. You sob; Another pair of green eyes to bring you comfort. 

“I love you, too.” 

heyyyy: @starologist @hrtmal @ohlawdthebirds @villainousbear @timmy-27 @inf3ct3dd @aouiaa @shurisbigtoe @emothurman @lonelyfooryouonly @imelliesgf @baumbii @brackishkittie @littletinyladybugs @r1miese @horror-whoree @elsbunny222 @elliesatchel @makemescreamel @lav3nd3rhaze @elliezflower @ellieloml @ellies-princess @saverdelrey @womenofarcane @muthafuckingstargirl @mina-281 @yuckyfucky @aimformyheartt @elstoy @skylerwhitwyo @sawaagyapong @nil-eena @dewylittlestars @sakiigami @feelsoseencantdream @ellieslittlegf @fictionalgap @liabadoobee @whooknooows @sarahsmileslikesarahd0esntcare @qtgaslighter @p4ison1vy @eviestevie-14 @weaselot @elliewbbg @elsmissingfingers @lmaoo-spiderman @lyssaspengler @elliewilliamsmunch @gummydummykj @kiwikeysblog @juniorsfav @louleele @alittlextrahoney @tohoko @333-starhotline @girlkissersco @saplingkoi @crxmxnzl-c0rpzes @elliew-illiamsmissingfingers @diddiqueen @alexisvs-world @mostlyhornyandsad @lolaaa699999 @elsblunt @niyahlovesu @randomhoex @sunnmoon @elliesaesp @callmewhenyoukan @rubycruzsbitch

#click! ☾⋆⁺₊📸✧ #ellie williams smut #ellie williams au #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x black!reader #black!oc #black!reader #lesbian #works 𖧧࣪

[xxsugarbones]

WORKING OUT WITH TOJI F.

-just joining your big beefy boyfriend Toji for his workout routine 💕

inspired by @starzu’s “Exercising with your boyfriend” fic found v

cw - fem!reader, plus size!reader, Toji is a real stinky boy but you love it, you sniff him (ya lil nasty), exercising (he’s doing push-ups, you sit on his back), biting, Toji folds you like a pretzel at the end, everything is recorded (consensual)

wc - 1.3k

|| an - Y’all I haven’t even watched JJK yet but I am so feral for Toji it’s not even funny. I love me a deadbeat dead man who could throw me around like a ragdoll if he so pleases 😩

Thinking about exercising with Toji.

He’s doing push-ups in the middle of the living room, all the furniture pushed off to the sides to make room for his bulky body, and a small tripod set up on the coffee table, his phone recording his workout routine so he could watch it back later and decide what he needed to improve on.

You were his good little cheerleader, sitting your plump frame on his broad back, your legs crossed and your hands resting on his shoulders.

At first you’d been hesitant to sit on his back because you were afraid you were too heavy for him, but he had assured you that it would be a good workout for him, that your “pretty little body” would be the perfect weights for him. So, like a good girl, you’d agreed so he didnt have to go dig out his actual weights. (Plus, you would have to be the one to lift them and put them on his back, and you knew very well that would not be a possibility, considering just how heavy they were.) And honestly, it shouldn’t have surprised you that he proceeded with no trouble at all.

He’s been at it for about half an hour now, occasionally taking little breaks by laying on the floor, while you shifted yourself back to straddle his thighs to give him a chance to breathe.

But it wasn’t ever too long before he got back into it, telling you to “sit your pretty ass back down on my back”.

“You got this baby! Doing so well!” You cheered on, leaning down again to rest your hands on his shoulders. His neck and shoulders were damp with sweat, his muscle tank clinging to his skin and loose strands of hair hanging in front of his eyes. He kept his sharp, green eyes focused on the ground, just trying his best to even out his breathing and keep himself in line, but it was getting very difficult with the feeling of your body weight and heat sitting atop him. But he stopped, lowering himself down flat to the ground when you tapped his shoulder three times.

“Lemme try something.” You started. You didn’t get much of a response other than a grunt from the man, who just wanted to continue his workout now that he was in the thick of it. You took that as your cue, shifting your body into a different position. Now you lay down on his back, stomach and chest against his toned muscles, and your arms wrapped around his slutty slim waist, and your nose nuzzled into his neck with a smile on your lips.

‘’m all sweaty, babe, don’t do that.” He huffed, but didn’t say much else as he once again started his push-ups, feeling you smile into his sweaty skin. This was much more comfortable for you. He grumbled out something about you being ‘gross’, which only made you laugh in response.

“But you smell good!”

“I stink.”

“I like you stinky.” Was your response, your hands sliding up underneath the hem of his tank and feeling his sweaty abs. A combined shiver ran through the both of you at the contact- your cool hands against his warm flesh, and he muffled a soft groan by sinking his teeth into his lower lip. You smiled, nose brushing along the tense muscles in his neck and just to prove your point, you tucked your head just beneath his jawline, and took a deep inhale.

“You’re real gross, princess.” He scoffed, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye as best he could but really only catching a glimpse of the top of your head. You laughed, pressing a kiss to the juncture between his neck and shoulder, and humming against the warm skin.

“Yeah but you love it.” You shot back, hands continuing to move around his body. One slid up his abs, moving further and further up his body until it hovered above his chest, the palm of your hand brushing against his nipple and making him tense again. You grinned, gently twisting and tugging at it.

“Gotta stay focused, baby, not much longer now and you’re done.” You teased, moving your lips to his neck again, your teeth ever so softly digging down into the skin, making a point to scrape your sharp canine teeth into the muscle. The groan you managed to rip from Toji was heavenly, and he could feel his already semi-hard cock twitching to life the longer your teeth were sunk into him.

“Playing a dangerous game there.” He hissed, but you paid no mind, just biting down a little harder. Suddenly, in the blink of an eye, he had flipped your position. He rolled you over so your soft body hit the carpet with a soft ‘thump!’, and he quickly shifted his body above yours so he was pinning you down to the ground, one of his massive hands grabbing both of your wrists and pinning them above your head.

“Toji!” You squeaked, looking up to the taller man with widened eyes, and your thick thighs squeezing together at the sexual tension between the two of you that you were suddenly hyper aware of. Toji’s free hand grabbed onto one of your thighs, yanking it open and holding the underside as he hurled it up and over his shoulder, the heel of your foot digging into the back you had just been laying on not even minutes before.

“Nu-uh, princess, don’t act all shy now when you’ve been actin’ needy this entire fuckin’ time.” He moved his hips forward, pressing his hips against yours, finally making you aware of the little problem you’d caused him during his workout. You whimpered, rolling your hips upwards to grind against him, making Toji sneer, looking down to where your hips connected.

“How ‘bout we do a little workout together, huh?” He started, letting go of your wrists to grab onto your other thigh, hoisting it up onto his other shoulder. Your hips were up and off the ground now, and he leaned his body weight forward, pressing down into you so your thighs pressed against the swell of your stomach and chest. The angle ever so slightly constricted your breathing, but you’d be lying if you said that it didn’t make your brain fuzzy with the excitement for what was about to happen.

“You’re gon’ stretch your muscles for me, and I’m gonna fuck this pretty fuckin’ pussy.” He proposed, his hands smoothing down your thigh to push away the oversized shirt you had stolen from him (despite being a bigger girl, his shirts were still big on you, something drool-worthy), letting it roll up your body to expose your plush stomach, then making his way down to tug at your panties, pulling them flush against your pussy, and moaning at the sight of the wet patch that slowly soaked through the thin fabric. You whined, bucking your hips up towards his face.

“L-Like yoga?”

“Yeah, somethin’ like that.” Toji chuckled, leaning down to press a kiss to your clit through your panties. You whined again, grappling onto the carpet beneath you as he pulled the fabric aside, then used his other hand to quickly pull down his sweatpants and boxers in one swift movement.

“Just keep these gorgeous legs up for me and we won’t have a problem.”

-

By the time you two were finished, Toji had to safely tuck that little video of his “workout” into his ‘HIDDEN’ album in his camera roll. But if you ask him, it was a pretty damn good workout.

#toji fushiguro x reader #toji x reader #toji x chubby reader #toji smut #jjk x chubby reader #jjk imagines #chubby reader #i really need to watch jjk #💀

[jazzsonly]

౨ৎ blurb. ౨ৎ

ʜᴜɴɢ ᴜᴘ ᴏɴ ᴜ

pairing(s): amber freeman x g!p!reader

warning(s): no pronouns used. smut. blowjob. making out. recording. mentions of onlyfans. use of shaft and length. not too detailed or long bc it’s a blurb. (deal with it.) probably the worst thing you’ve ever read tbh.

summary: ❝ shut your mouth, i’m recording. ❞

inspired by.

────────✬────────

amber was touchy, it’s just who she was…especially with you. anyone who was with you in a room for more than a minute could pick up on this. the way she always jumped on you in excitement, her legs wrapped around your waist and her arms around your neck, while your hands rested under her thighs.

or the way she sat on your lap when you’re in the quad with core four. when she insisted on plucking your eyebrows, straddling you as you sat on the couch, legs settled on either side of you.

it was just normal for you two, and normal for anyone else around. as normal as it was, it was hard for you (no pun intended) to stay contained because amber was a pretty girl, a very pretty girl and you sometimes found it difficult to stay contained with her on your lap. it wasn’t just the fact that she was on your lap but that she was on your lap in the shortest mini skirt or the shortest biker shorts.

and she could never sit still, always making it a point to move her hips, rocking back and forth on you. claiming she were ‘trying to get comfortable.’ you just prayed to whatever in the sky that she couldn’t feel your hard-on when she was on your lap.

“you know…i’ve been thinking about doing onlyfans,” your eyes widen at amber’s statement.

it had been a lonely saturday, just you and amber at the apartment while the others went out for laser tag. you had been pretty worn at from work the day before so you decided to stay in and watch movies, amber claiming to be worn out too and offering to join you.

you were both on the couch, you arms stretched out and rested, legs opened in a manspread position. all while amber’s head rested in your lap.

“why would you need to do onlyfans?”

“ehh, just some extra cash. plus, our rent might go up.”

you clear your throat, swatting away the thoughts of the things amber would do for onlyfans. “why not just pick up extra shifts?”

“it’ll be no good, they cut my hours anyway cause the new hire.”

“well, whatever you’re comfortable with…i’ll support.”

the girl smirks, “you’ll support?”

“n—not like that, i meant—like i won’t judge you or be weird about.”

“so,” she pauses to sit up, looking at you more clearly. “you wouldn’t tune in?”

“wouldn’t that be weird?”

“no weirder than how you get hard every time i sit on your lap.”

your eyes widen and a nervous cough leaked out, “amber i—“

“relax,” she moves her position again, straddling your lap. “i like it. i like you.”

“you like me?”

“uh huh, and i want to make my first video with you.”

there were invisible question marks over your head. was this really happening?

“yo—you do?” amber smirks, she loved the affect she had on you. you were so nervous and lost in this moment. it turned her on.

she leans forward, her hand in the middle of your chest to steady herself, “i want you inside of my mouth.”

“amber, are you—i mean, i don’t want to mess up our friendship…plus, i’ve never done this before.”

“i’ll guide you…so, are you in or what?”

your bottom lip stuck between your teeth and your chewed on it in nervousness, of course you wanted to do it but what the fuck?

“you won’t even have to show your face, the camera will only come to your waist and i’ll be on my knees.”

you exhaled deeply, looking up at the girl, “ok.”

“yay!” she kisses your cheek in excitement before jumping up, she ran to her room to get the tripod and her phone.

your leg bounces rapidly, while she sets up the equipment near the coffee table.

“relax,” she hand comes down on your thigh to stop it from shaking. “you wanna kiss me first? help it be less nerve wrecking for you?”

you hesitantly nod, licking your lips.

the freeman places her other hand on your other thigh, steadying herself as she leans forward, running her tongue across your bottom lip. she can’t help but smirk at the hitch of breath you let out at her actions, she pushes forward, her lips pressing against yours and locking with them.

her seductive aura took over you, intoxicating you. as you start to relax, you get more comfortable and let you tongue run against her lips this time and she immediately opens her mouth, pressing her tongue against yours, letting you taste her.

her minty strawberry breath was now mixed with yours. her tongue rolls against yours, fighting a fight that she already won. and to dismay she pulls away, slowly.

her eyes study your face, your eyes still closed, lips still puckered and you lean forward into her, wanting more.

“mhm, ok stand up so i can line the camera up with your waist.”

easily, you comply to her demand, moving around the coffee table, you stand next to the tripod that held her phone and she slid down to her knees in front of you adjust the camera’s view.

you couldn’t help but look away in embarrassment, knowing your hard-on was showing through your sweatpants—the same sweatpants amber leans up and kisses the hem of.

“amber are you su—“

“shh, i’m recording.”

you tongue flys to the roof of your mouth, cutting your words off.

“look at me.” she softly demands and reluctantly you let your eyes meet her dark doe ones, that gracefully put you in a trance of obedience.

her nails run against your smooth waist before she hooks her fingers in the hem of your sweats and let them drop down to your ankle, her eyes going back and forth, from your eyes to very noticeable print that now showed through your plaid fruit of the loom boxers.

a content smile takes over as she runs her fingers across the seven and a half inches, feeling the slight veins.

if it wasn’t clear to her, it was clear to you that your body was on fire with a desire that grew more and more with each slight movement of your roommates.

taking you by surprise, the girl swiftly hooks her fingers into your boxers this time, letting them also drop your ankles, you length stood tall, whipping out, hitting her in the cheek softly.

“so big,” she utters straight into your eyes and somehow, if even possible you grew even more aroused.

you push your tongue slightly between your teeth and bite down softly when she grabs your base firmly, wasting no time to lick the tip. her salvia wet and moist on you, bringing you soft sensations.

she bobs her head down, only taking the tip into her mouth which caused you to lowly groan.

you had a few girlfriends in the past and though you didn’t go all the way, you’d gotten head before but not like this, not like amber. her movements were so precise, your pleasure was her’s and she wanted to make sure it was just right.

with a pop, she let you fall from her mouth, taking the left over spit and using it as lube to move her hand up and down your shaft, she had a tight grip and she twists when she comes to the base, going up and down with the same movements.

“fuck, amber.”

“mhm, feels good? tell me how good it feels, y/n.”

subconsciously, without any embarrassment you let out the pleasure. “it feels so good, amb. so good.”

she hums in satisfaction, taking you into her o shaped mouth once more, this time going deeper then just the tip. she bops her head up and down, eyes still locked on your half closed ones.

once again, amber studied you. the way you fell apart in her hands (and mouth), the way your head slightly threw back, and low curses feel from your mouth followed with an occasional ‘amb.’

she’d been wanting this moment for a long time and she finally got it.

making it a point to pleasure you, to send you over the edge, amber sucks air in through her nose and prepares to take all of you into her mouth, deepthroating you.

“oh fuck!” music to amber’s ears.

“amb, i’m so close! don’t stop!” without even knowing it, your fingers lace in the girls hair and grip tightly as you move her head just the way you want.

her eyes watery and her breath shortened, she let you do whatever you wanted.

once you feel that familiar pit in your stomach, you tug her hair and release yourself from her mouth, letting your cum squirt on her face without warning, but of course the freeman didn’t mind.

━━━ 👩🏽‍💻 a gift for all my beautiful, sexy, silly babygirls.

#sam carpenter #tara carpenter #ethan landry #ghostface #mindy meeks martin #scream six #sam carpenter x you #sam loomis #scream #jenna ortega #amber freeman x female reader #amber freeman x y/n #amber freeman x you #amber freeman x reader #amber freeman #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x you #writingofn #jenna ortega x reader #scream 6 #tara carpenter x female reader #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x y/n #chad meeks x reader #sam carpenter x female reader

[wannaeatramyeon]

Can you rate every PTJ characters manspeard? I think da curious if every character that manspeard basically 10/10 or nah.

Guess who was tempted to actually search for every pic of the characters manspreading. Then I realised the task and got lazy, so have another shitty list instead!

Lookism: M A N S P R E A D I N G list

yo close your legs you big slut

Man's a tripod

DG, Gun Park, Jake Kim, Big Daniel Park, Jay Hong (huge, massive dick energy), Taesoo Ma

Just being an ass

Gun Park, Goo Kim, Samuel Seo, Ryuhei Kuroda, Vin Jin

LOOK AT IT

DG, Goo Kim, Samuel Seo, Ryuhei Kuroda, Vin Jin

Balls stuck to his thigh

Jake Kim, Sinu Han, Vasco, Zack Lee, Little Daniel

Weird burning and needs to air it

Ryuhei Kuroda, Vin Jin

Swampy and wants to air it

Vasco (I'm so sorry bb you give those vibes), Johan Seong (lil meow meow aint getting regular showers), Jihan Kwak (they bathe in snakes, hygiene 1/10), Taesoo Ma (He's out in the woods eating snakes cmon)

Recently shaved and itchy

Warren Chae, Eli Jang, Samuel Seo, Zack Lee (not like mira will see it lol)

Can sit properly

Little Daniel Park, Big Daniel Park, Jay Hong, Jerry Kwon

#friday night brain rot #fuck am i really gonna tag everyone #lookism #lookism hc #lookism headcanons #lookism memes #lookism dg #gun park #goo kim #daniel park #jay hong #jake kim #samuel seo #sinu han #vasco #johan seong #jihan kwak #warren chae #eli jang #zack lee #jerry kwon #taesoo ma

[milkycarnations]

Kinktober 2022

|Week Three| Puppeteer x afab!Reader | recording, hatefuck, safe word | 715 words

kinktober masterlist | name calling, sex as an outlet, fling/friends with benefits, stoplight safe words yellow and green, rough sex, bdsm, choking, pushing boundaries, soft aftercare, basically you and puppet hatefuck so he can feed off of your negative emotions? did i get his character right

Written for @just-a-creep-babe's #creepkinks. I don't write for Puppeteer on my blog, so this one was hard :(!

You understood Puppeteer was a spirit. You understood he wasn't human, that he fed (somehow) on negativity, and that he had taken a special interest in you. That was the extent of what he had told you. He hadn't even bothered to give you a real name to call him by. It was clear he wanted complete control over you - you didn't mind. You were his quick little morsel to keep him satiated, but to tap into your full potential, he needed you in a very unique position. He craved someone who hated him with a passion but couldn't resist being around him, and you were his someone.

"Where are you now?" he said.

"Green," you responded as he wrapped his hands tighter around your neck.

He liked to push you over the edge in a new way each time and he was damn good at it. "The angrier the better," he told you once.

"All that emotion... so invigorating. Don't you feel how your hate fills the room? I can taste it." he gave your throat a little squeeze.

Your brow furrowed as your hearing grew fuzzy. Thinking about every little thing that pissed you off the past week - everything he had done to piss you off - egged you on. It built with the pressure he caused in your pussy, but you couldn't do anything about it. Your legs were tied up to the headboard with your hands. He had you folded in on yourself and completely at his mercy. Your thoughts started to muddle together as he choked you.

Releasing the pressure on your throat, he moved a hand down between your legs - only sliding his fingers across and teasing your hole. You were wet enough to take all of him, but he wouldn't even give you a finger.

"Why are you such a prick?" you bucked your hips as he grazed over your clit, "fucking tease."

"Should I record you and show you just how much of a whiny brat you're being?"

You quieted at the threat. Neither of you had done such a thing before. He tutted. "I see that worry in your eyes," his fingers left you as he walked towards a cabinet in the room. To your surprise, he pulled out a tripod all ready to go, and fiddled with it as he placed his phone on it. He set it facing you on the bed as you squirmed.

"Yellow," you said clearly. It was easy to notice his tone slightly shift and his back straighten slightly as he walked back to you. He had gone over the safeword with you a million times. He knew that yellow didn't mean to stop, but you knew he was scared to take things too far.

Returning back to you, he leaned over your body like before, this time rubbing his hand up and down your thigh. He thought you couldn't, but you noticed his attentive gaze.

"There, now everyone can see your cunt. See you get off on being put in your place, little minx."

You settled into his touch, swearing as he shoved a finger inside of you. He pumped in a few times. The sensation had you in heaven. He always told you that as soon as he touched you, you'd lose a few brain cells.

"All this for me?" he moaned.

"Because you're touching me like that," you weakly argued, trying to ignore how good he felt.

"You let me use you so easily. You humans are so fascinating."

Your face scrunched up and you let out a loud whine. You could feel yourself getting close already.

"Are you gonna cry just from me fingering you?"

"Oh, shut up!"

He sped up, wet sounds coming from your cunt as he fucked you with his fingers.

Swearing, you came around him, hips bucking as he helped you finish. He let you sit there for a moment as you cooled down. You were always exhausted after, which you had assumed was because he was essentially acting as some sort of incubus.

"Let's take a break," he'd said, releasing you from the golden strings that kept you up.

"We'll come back to this later. You still have some anger I can fuck out of you another time."

#creepypasta #creepypasta smut #creepypasta puppeteer #the puppeteer #puppeteer x reader #creepypasta kinktober #creepkinks #creep kinks #kinktober 2022

[akatabitch]

Spellbound I

Genre:smut 18+ (minors, ageless & empty blogs dni)

warnings: voyeurism, tribbing, cunniligus, foursome

themes: occult, supernatural

wc:1886 (part I)

The only thing louder than the giggles and excited chatter from the girls, was the blunt that Aiyanna was carefully rolling.

"This book old as fuck, Jola. Where the fuck you even get it from?" Kirah asked, before she gently blew dust off the leather-bound book in question. This action sent Iesha — seated directly across from her— into a coughing frenzy.

"Gahtdamn, Kirah! I should slap you fa doing that goofy shit." Iesha mushed her gently in the head, causing Kirah to kiss her teeth.

"Guh, I swear it was fate! I literally got that bih at an estate sale, yesterday." Jola shouted from the kitchen, before rejoining her roommates in the living room with a bottle of Port Taylor in tow.

"Girl, I know you fucking lying." Kirah scrunched her face up at the bottle in Jola's hand. "Why the fuck you bought that cheap ass shit?"

"Because," Jola snapped with a roll of the eyes. "Yo cheap ass, ain't wanna put in on shit."

"Hmmp."

"Hmmp my ass! Iesha smack her again."

"Aight y'all, chill. Y'all really needing right now." Aiyanna took a pull of the tightly wrapped blunt, trying not to be irritated by the dramatics of her friend group.

Aiyanna was the peacemaker of the bunch. The only one of the four who wasn't a hothead. At her size, she couldn't really afford to be. Not only was she 5 foot even, she was tiny, without a lick of muscle or thick anywhere on her body.

"Anyway," Jola came over to join her, reaching for the blunt. Her thick ass and hips visibly swayed side to side. At 5'9, Jola towered over everyone. Her chestnut skin complimented her olive green negligee perfectly and the light beat on her face accentuated her cat eyes, thick lips, and short-bridged nose.

"Y'all gone want something to get you fucked up once you read what all this spell entails."

Aiyanna shook her head, how she'd been talked into her roommates goofy plans she would never know.

Jola, Iesha, and surprisingly even Kirah, had excitedly shared their plan to summon a succubus for Halloween’s Eve and to capture it all on camera. Bored of the traditional Homecoming parties and festivities, they wanted to spend their last year of university doing something truly memorable.

Considering that Jola and Iesha would often gush for hours about their various occult interests, Aiyanna was not surprised that they would suggest the idea. However, Kirah's superstitious nature, contradicted her zeal about summoning a potentially unpredictable spirit.

Yet somehow all of the girls, including Aiyanna, had submitted to Jola’s requests. And were currently seated on a pallet of satin sheets and pillows, dressed in their most seductive wear, in front of a tripod.

Even Aiyanna, who typically didn't put much thought in the clothes she wore, was fitted in a black corset, a super short black skirt, and a black thong.

Although, she was still scared. She didn't even fuck with other people, let alone spirits. That combined with the years of indoctrination and fear-mongering from her family, had kept her from participating in the Charlie Charlie, Bloody Mary, & other spooky challenges of her peers.

Seeing as her roommates would be performing the seance in her home, she figured it didn't matter if she was in attendance when they did it or not. Eventually she'd have to come home and deal with it.

"Why you say we gonna want to get fucked up first?" Kirah, scrunched her face up.

The old grimoire Jola tracked down spread between the four of them —the blunt rotated counter-clockwise and a glass of wine in each one's hand, they carefully read over the instructions.

"So we basically have to masturbate together and say these words when we feel ourselves orgasming?" Iesha couldn't contain her grin, their idea was getting better and better by the minute.

"Yup, as soon as the last person involved says the phrase, it'll come." Jola squealed, as the anticipation in her body began to rise.

"Who's first?" Iesha said, her smirk growing on her dimpled cheeks.

"I don't think we should take turns. We should all fuck ourselves at the same time to speed it along." Kirah, crossed her arms. The impatience on her face was evident.

"Sheitttt, who give a fuck if the bitch comes or not. I say we rock out."

"Whatchu mean?" Kirah's impatience quickly dissolved into confusion.

"I say we fuck each other." Iesha shrugged, the smirk on her face had never wavered. When she'd said she wanted to have a good time, she truly meant she wanted to have a good time.

Jola paused to consider it, maybe it was the liquor. Or maybe it was her curiosity getting the best of her. "True, it's our last year, and we said we wanna go out with a bang. If this spell doesn't produce anything, we could get a really good fuck outta it."

"Multiple good fucks" Iesha giggled. "I'm gonna come a few times before I say any spell."

"What do you think Aiyanna?" Kirah was looking for back up, but Aiyanna was curious to know what it would be like to taste Jola, so she agreed. She hadn't fucked anyone since her ex-girlfriend in freshman year and the way Jola carried herself had always intrigued her. Even now.

"Isn't the whole point to create an energy that attracts it. We should probably actually really enjoy it." Aiyanna said.

"Exactly!" Iesha clapped her hands together.

"If you don't wanna do it though Kirah, you shouldn't." Iesha was sincere. Her excitement would never cause her to encourage someone to do something they didn't want to.

Kirah looked off to the side thoughtfully for a moment. "Lemme just watch first and we'll go from there."

"Matter fact, let's just finish our drinks first and play some music." Jola jumped up to connect her phone to the living room television.

"Lord, we mixing all kinds of spirits huh." Aiyanna quipped, pulling another long drag from the blunt.

"I'll press play on the camera." Iesha stood up to angle the camera properly and begin recording.

Jola peeped that Aiyanna was quiet when it came to everything but music. She purposely put on a sensual song by Popcaan, taking the blunt from the girl so she could wine and twirl her ass without accidentally burning herself.

Little did she know, Aiyanna also had every intention to get Jola out of character as well. Now that the opportunity presented itself she was definitely going to seduce Jola. Fuck that spell.

Aiyanna put both hands above her head, slowly rolling her ass to the bassline. Jola got behind her, blunt tucked between her lips, as the other girls lazily watched. She gripped Aiyanna's waist, slowly grinding herself into Aiyanna's ass in time to the beat. As the heat between them increased they found themselves moaning.

Aiyanna turned into her. At first, grinding their fronts into each other. Then rubbing Jola's pussy up and down over her exposed leg. The friction of Aiyanna’s soft skin and Jola's sex scantily dressed in the negligee, had her long nails digging in Aiyanna's back.

Aiyanna felt arousal shoot through her from the pain. Her small hand firmly gripped Jola's neck, pushing her down, down, down backwards into the pallet.

The sight of Jola laid before her made her nervous. She kissed her hard on the mouth, hoping to quiet the anxious thoughts running through her head. Then, their lips suckled the other’s softly, as if each was fragile.

After only a few minutes Jola broke the kiss, pushing  Aiyanna's head down towards her voluptuous frame. "Can you eat me out, please?"

"I thought you would never ask." Aiyanna quickly trailed kisses down her body. She bit Jola’s nipples hard when she got to them, pulling her thick hair when she squirmed. She alternated sucking them into her damp mouth and twirling her long tongue around them. When she failed to put them both in her mouth simultaneously, she decided to move down to Jola’s pussy.

She kissed the vulva first. Inhaling deeply and melting at the smell of Jola's pussy. Next, Aiyanna spread her friend’s labia with her left hand. Carefully massaging it and running her fingers across it like it was the finest velvet.

"Touch me just like that." Jola couldn't believe how gentle Aiyanna's touches felt.

She was caught off guard the moment Aiyanna's mouth met her pussy lips. And only the sound of her slurping pussy loudly and Jola's encouragements filled the space.

"Hmm, this pussy so good." Aiyanna could literally feel her eyes roll in the back of her head, as her tongue memorized Jola's plush folds and crevices.

If either of them was paying attention to anything else, they would see Iesha touching herself quietly. She bit down on her lip at the sight of Aiyanna's ass in the air. And her thong, suddenly visible under her flipped up skirt, tightly snug in between her ass cheeks as she feasted on Jola's pussy before them.

Kirah was in shock. Literally, her mouth was agape. Having never seen Aiyanna in this state, she marveled at how passionately and skillfully she ate Jola's pussy. And how her own pussy glistened from slick in the lighting. It looked like a diamond mine or a treasure chest. Like something shiny and fruitful laid between her thighs.

Her pussy was dripping, darkening the sheets beneath her so she pushed Jola's legs further apart. Slowly mounting her. Aiyanna arched her ass up, gently rubbing their pussy lips together. She let out a sharp breath as their soft nubs touched. Jola was getting increasingly wetter, and her wetness combined with the memory of the taste, smell, and feel of Jola’s pussy merely inspired Aiyana's own. The sound of their juicy, pussies rubbing against each other filled the air.

"Fuck, I should've fucked you a long time ago" Jola said. She couldn't figure out what to do with her hands. They traveled insatiably, spreading Aiyanna's ass cheeks, gripping them, smacking them. And pulling on her tight little nipples.

Aiyanna caressed Jola's breasts sensually as they fucked and she leaned forward to kiss her, hellbent on making her body feel as good as possible. She licked on Jola’s lips, before sucking them into her own mouth. Then, she vulgarly stuck her tongue in Jola's mouth, searching for her tongue and sucking it like she’d lost all her decorum in it.

For a minute, with Aiyanna fucking her mouth, Jola considered the fact that she might be gay. When men kissed her like that she got annoyed and grossed out. But between the music, the liquor, and Aiyanna's soft pussy pressed against hers, she felt like she was in paradise. Her tongue down her throat, felt and tasted so fucking good.

Jola stopped thinking at all when Aiyanna once again gently spread her pussy lips apart with her soft hands, allowing their clits to touch directly.

"Homygawd, why does this shit feel so motherfucking good? You better not stop until I cum, bitch."

Aiyanna gripped her neck again. "Tell me you ain't never been fucked like this."

Jola was telling the truth when she agreed, "Never, nobody ever fuck me like this."

Aiyanna started bouncing on her pussy to reward her for complying. Only giving Jola a few seconds to recover, before she brought her pussy down against Jola's once more.

Iesha could no longer control her moans as the sounds of their asses clapping together, combined with the sight of Aiyanna's little cheeks twerking up & down onto Jola's pussy, took her near the edge.

Kirah startled, turning to see her friends with her hand stuffed deep in her own pussy. The wetness pooled in her underwear. Maybe it hadn't been a bad idea to have some fun…

#black!reader #black sapphic #black tumblr #imagines #kinktober

[tuntematonkorppi]

so we all know that my apartment is haunted and/or has a rift opened to the void and makes my shit disappear and usually it’s small stuff like lipbalm, my tablet pen, my boxing mouthguard, sewing needles, etc etc. but now it has taken my camera tripod. like. the thing is big. WHERE THE FUCK IS IT

#personal shit #i need that tripod yo #give it back

[thelukesalvez]

Luke Alvez x Reader: Bruises

Request: @whormotional​ asked: “hi i have recently become obsessed with your writing! youre like the best luke writing on this app i swear. could you do one where the female reader gets kidnapped on a case and tortured and just like luke and the team saving her and luke being there for her later that night pls”

Word count: 5.4k

Tagged: @ssaic-jareau​ , @alvezstan​​ , @lcvischmitt​​ , @ogmilkis​​ , @goldenalvez​​ , @ssa-morgan​​ ,  @akimagies​, @zhangyixingxing1​​ , @pinkdiamond1016​​ , @yourwonderbelle​​, @rachelxwayne​ , @sc4rletw1tch​ , @ellvswriting

Warnings: Kidnapping, torture, gun tw, blood mention

A/N: love angsty requests thank youuu. hope youu enjoy!!

You wake up to the taste of blood in your mouth.  Your breath was ragged and shallow as you shook yourself out of a deep sleep. It was the first sense you were able to regain, but before you could force your eyes open, you felt the  pulsing pain coming from the back of your head.  It shot down your neck and around to the front of your forehead, making you wince.  

Images from the dream you had been having were still clear in your mind.  You had dreamt of Luke.  Maybe you dreamt about him because he occupied most of your thoughts, or maybe it was because his face had been the last thing you saw before blacking out.  You remembered seeing his brown eyes- usually warm and inviting, turn wide with worry as they didn’t quite meet your gaze.  It was like he was staring at something behind you. 

You saw him raise his gun and aim it slightly to your left.  You had been just about to ask him what was wrong before he opened his mouth to warn you.  His words were inaudible, though, as the blow that suddenly hit the back of your head had ensnared all of your senses.  The look on his face was what lingered in your mind now.  You tried desperately to memorize all of his features- the lines around his eyes and the way his hairline curved around his face.  You squeezed your eyes shut even harder, thinking of his tan skin and stubble beard. You really didn’t want to open your eyes, because you knew that wherever you were and whatever had happened to you, wasn’t good. 

…

When Luke comes to, he’s propped up against a cold wall and there are voices around him.  A headache was pulsing behind his eyes as he finally cracked his eyelids, eyelashes fluttering on his first few attempts. 

The blurry faces of Emily and Tara slowly start to come into focus as he wakes up.  He sees Tara sigh a breath of relief when her gaze meets his own. 

“Thank God,” she exhales quietly. 

Blood.  There was blood running down his head. And there was a bloodstained brick lying close to him. 

“Luke,” Emily’s voice is louder.  “What happened?”

“He came out of nowhere-” Luke states, he raises his hand to find the spot on his forehead that throbbed.  When Luke pulls away, there’s blood on his fingers.  Suddenly, images of the incident reentered his mind.  “I tried to shoot- but I didn’t want to hit her-”

“Where is Y/N?” Emily asks calmly. 

Just the mere mention of your name makes Luke sit up straighter.  The sudden movement makes his head wobbly, but he ignores it.

“Woah, take it easy,” Emily instructs. She puts her hand out to steady him. 

Luke falls back against the wall.  “She’s not here?” he asks, panic and fear flooding his insides. 

Instead of a yes or a no, Emily states, “We’ll find her.”

...

When you do finally open your eyes, you find that you're sitting in the corner of a dingy room, arms and legs bound to the worn chair.  The room reminded you of a basement, concrete walls with pipes and ducts running along the ceiling between the hanging lightbulbs that were much too bright without covers.  

You blink your eyes a few times, trying to make everything stop blurring together, but it seems impossible. 

You gasp, chest constructing at the sharp pain suddenly shooting up your left side. You breathe through your nose, trying to will down the panic and fear that’s engulfed you.  Each breath pulled in the strong presence of mold and mildew, making you want to gag.    

There’s a man in the corner of the room fiddling with something.  His back was turned to you until he realized you were conscious again.  He begins approaching slowly.  You recognize his wild hair and narrow eyes almost instantly.  

From the information Garcia had gathered online earlier, the man’s name was Greg Atwood. And he was your Unsub.   

You and the rest of the team had been called to Seattle over a week ago- after the third body showed up.  Once Seattle PD made the connection between the victims, it was clear their problem was severe enough for reinforcements.  You had worked the case just like any other- analyzing victimology, creating a geographic profile, combing the crime scenes. It became glaringly obvious that you were dealing with a professional, someone who killed efficiently and knew how to clean up their mess.  And when Emily sent you and Luke to interview the witness who found the latest body, neither one of you had any idea you were about to walk into the arms of the apparent killer himself. But the profile the team had established, fit.  

When Atwood opens his mouth to speak, his evil smile makes you cringe.  “You’re awake,” is all he states.  His voice is filled with venom. 

You jerk, thrashing against the restraints that bind you. The man steps forward, his finger trailing along the barrel of his gun. He smiles confidently, but it’s his eyes that burn into your brain.  

“What do you want from me?” you ask.  You knew all too well how these interactions went, but you were desperate to stall. 

The man looks at you for a long moment before inhaling deeply.  But he doesn’t speak. 

You blink again, trying to rack your brain and remember the profile.  What would buy you some time?

You dig your teeth into the inside of your cheek- a habit Luke had always given you shit for.  You briefly wonder if you’d ever get to hear him lecture you about it again. 

You tug at the restraints again, testing it.  But there’s no give. 

“What do you want?” you try again.  

Atwood takes another step closer, creepy smile still in place.  “I want to know how you found me,” he says simply. 

You bite your lip.  He takes your hesitation as an invitation to talk more.  “You see,” his voice trails. “I was very careful.  I cleaned up my mess, I didn’t leave behind a single trace of DNA.”

“We didn’t find you with DNA, we found you with our profile.” He didn’t need to know you and Luke had originally thought he was a witness. 

His smirk returns.  “Right,” he says, like he doesn’t quite believe it.  He turns his back to you and walks back towards the corner of the room he originally came from.  He hoists something up, you can’t quite tell what it is until he turns around with it in his hands.  It’s a tripod, and attached at the top is a camera. 

Your chest feels tight again- you didn’t like where any of this was going. 

The tripod is placed about six feet in front of you.  Atwood adjusts the angle a bit before pressing a button.  A light flashes red before he turns to look at you again.  His smile has faded. 

“Tell me where she is,” he orders. 

Your eyes widen, but you don’t speak. 

He waits, only a moment, before saying it again.  “Tell me where I can find Emily Prentiss.”

You clench your jaw.  

“I know you know where she is.  She is your Unit Chief after all, isn’t she?”

You ignore his question.  “Is my team seeing this?” you ask, nodding your head towards the camera.  

His silence makes you assume that’s a yes.  “You know- we profiled that you’d be extremely intelligent,” you say.  “But if you think I’d rat out my Chief or anyone on my team, we must’ve gotten that part wrong.”  

Your response gets you backhanded- hard across the face.  Your head whips back, but you try to shake it off quickly. 

You taste copper in your mouth again as you raise your head up.  Your hair has fallen in your face, but you don’t make any effort to move it. 

Atwood is looking at you, expression calculating.  “If you want to get out of here alive,” he says, “you’re going to tell me where she is.  It's up to you how hard you want to make this on yourself.”  When you stay silent, he continues.  “You see, it’s not you I really want.  I don’t want to kill you.  Just like I didn’t want to kill the agent you were with.  You’re collateral damage to me, it means nothing.”

His words make you freeze in place.  

Just like I didn’t want to kill the agent you were with. 

The sentence seeps into your skin like poison. 

Luke. 

Your face is blank and your mind can’t process the entirety of what he’s said, before he proceeds. 

“You see, it’s Prentiss I want.  Tell me where she is and this will all be over.”

“You killed-” your voice is shaky as you try to comprehend the words Atwood has just spoken to you.  “Y-you killed him?”

His smirk brings bile up in your throat. 

He was lying, you say to yourself.  Luke was fine, he was lying.  “No,” you whisper, your eyes burning with unshed tears. “No-”

Atwood sighs, pretending to be sympathetic. “Like I said- I didn’t want to do it. But he got in my way. Just like you’re getting in my way right now.” 

His words are muffled in your own head as your mind races to make sense of it all. Luke- Luke was your purpose and your happiness and your reason.  Luke was everything.  

“Tell me where she is.” Atwood presses. 

If he was telling the truth, and Luke really was dead- then what did it matter if you died too? “Go fuck yourself,” you spit, trying not to show him the brokenness he’d just caused. 

Atwood sighs, “I was hoping we could do this the easy way.” 

He approaches you, rolling up his sleeve as he walks.  You noticed a brass ring on his finger.  

You wonder what the rest of the team was thinking and if they could even see you right now.  You knew that they’d be looking for you, no matter what.  They’d probably even encourage you to give up Emily’s information- even though none of them would.  But it probably didn’t make whatever was about to happen to you easier for them to watch. 

“This doesn’t end until you tell me where she is,” Atwood sneers.  It’s his final warning.  You look straight at the camera and try to broadcast a message to the team.  In case they were watching, you wanted them to know you could handle this.  You offer the slightest smile, one they’d probably only catch if they rewound the tape, you’re reassuring them that you’d be fine.  

…

When the video stream first comes through, it makes Penelope gasp.  She was sleep deprived after being transported to Seattle.  Her job was to comb through the Unsub’s computer, and to hopefully find a hint as to where he might have taken you. 

At first, she’s surprised, and disturbed by the distressed looking girl tied to the chair.  Penelope has seen her fair share of gruesome images and videos in her days with the Bureau, but she never could seem to get used to it. 

But when the girl lifts her head and reveals a face Penelope recognizes immediately, she’s horrified.  Your eyes are tired, and every breath looks ragged. 

“Emily!” she calls out, “Guys!”  

Just then, a man comes into the frame, his voice is muffled and quiet. Before Penelope can turn the volume up to hear what he’s said, he raises his hand and strikes you across the face.

“No!” Penelope cries, squeezing her eyes shut.  Only when she feels a warm hand fall on her shoulder does she dare to open them. 

It’s Emily, and in her trail is JJ and Rossi. 

“What’s going on?” Emily asks, concerned. 

“It’s Y/N-” Garcia has tears running down her face. 

“Oh my God,” JJ breathes, she covers her mouth with her hands. 

“She’s hurt,” Garcia whimpers. 

Emily inhales sharply. 

“Is this live? Can you trace it?” Rossi asks, leaning in. 

Garcia nods, the rapid clicks of her keyboard answering for her. 

“Where’s Luke?” JJ asks, turning her head. “He can’t see this-”

“See what?” Luke’s voice rings through the room, making everyone turn their heads.  He’s standing in the doorframe with an ice pack held firmly to his head.  After being attacked, he’d refused to go to the hospital.  Not until you were home safe, he had said.  No one tried to argue it.  

They stand speechless, unsure of what to say to Luke. 

“See what?” he repeats.  But that’s when he sees the screen. 

“Who is that?” he asks, voice cracking. He leans so that he can see past Garcia. The panic on his face told them that he already knew. 

“We’re going to find her,” Emily says calmly, placing a hand on his shoulder. 

Suddenly, there’s a man’s voice speaking from the video.  It’s Atwood. 

“All I need is a location,” he says calmly.  “Tell me where I can find Emily Prentiss.”

Everyone in the room inhales sharply. Luke grits his teeth as he sees you pick up your head.  Your face looks scared. “I don’t know,” you say weakly. 

Atwood sighs.  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

With that, Garcia cries out again as he sucker punches you in the jaw.  Just as you’re wincing from the first impact, you take another hit, a punch to the gut that leaves you heaving and breathless.  

Luke is wild, gritting his teeth.  “I’m gonna bash this guy’s head in myself,” he roars, turning away.  

Just then, the rest of the team filters in the room.  “What’s going on?” Reid asks.  He’s holding an evidence bag in his gloved hands. 

“The motherfucker’s recording it- he’s live streaming it,” Luke exclaims.  He’s gripping his hair frantically. 

“Anything, Garcia?” Rossi asks. 

Her typing has become more frantic as she desperately tries to secure a location.  

The assault against you continues, hit after hit, mostly centered on your left side.  It’s clear that you were doing your best to zone out.

Luke has started watching again, despite Matt trying to pull him away.  

You keep your mouth shut, even when your side aches so bad you think he’s broken one of your ribs.  When Atwood finally stops hitting you, your face is hot and bruised and bloody.

It makes Luke want to be sick. 

Just then, a pinging noise comes from Garcia’s computer and the room goes dead silent. 

After a moment, she turns to Emily questioningly. “I have an address,” she states. 

“What’s wrong?” Tara asks, picking up on the confusion in her tone. 

“What’re we waiting for?” Luke roars.  “Let’s go-”

“It just feels- wrong,” Garcia says, unable to put her finger on it. “Why would an Unsub as intelligent as him not block his streaming location?”

“Do you think it’s a trap?”

Garcia shakes her head.  “I don’t know-”

“That’s a risk we’re going to have to take,” Emily says.  She turns to the rest of the team.  “Let’s go.”

“Be safe,” Garcia whimpers. 

…

You barely feel alive anymore.  You had your eyes closed, and were resting your head against the back of the chair when you tried to imagine yourself back in your apartment with Luke.  You imagined being snuggled into him on the couch as you watched some cheesy, romantic movie. You had given up struggling- your restraints were too tight, it was no use. You tried to count how much time it had been since you’d been here. But the truth was, you had no idea how long you’d been out for. Hours? Days? 

You were wondering if the team was still looking for you when you hear a distant thump coming from upstairs.  

The thing was- you knew this wasn’t just about Emily’s location.  It wasn’t even about your team’s location.  It was about beating you- the power involved in outsmarting the FBI. 

You kept your eyes closed, taking deep breaths and trying as best as you could to get your body to stop shivering. You were bruised and bloody and dehydrated.

You hadn’t opened your eyes in a while now. And even though you couldn’t sleep, you didn’t want to open them because you didn’t want Atwood to know you were awake.  

You wished your mind would quiet down, but of course it wouldn't.  You had nothing to do here besides think.  You think about the last words you said to Luke, and you think of how meaningless and insignificant they were.  You try to remember when the last time you told him you loved him was.  You think about if you even wanted to get out of here alive if there was no Luke to go home to.  

In the midst of your thoughts, you gasp loudly when the only door leading out of the room blows off the hinges.  Dust fills the air and you flinch at the feeling of your neck suddenly being barred by a strong arm.  

Atwood. 

“Drop it!” Emily’s familiar voice fills the room.  

You sigh a breath of relief, despite knowing there was a gun pressed directly against your temple. 

“You’re not getting out of here,” Rossi’s voice says.  “So you might as well put the gun down now.” When the dust finally settles, you see him filing to the left corner of the room, his gun drawn.  Matt has already situated himself in the right corner. 

Atwood chuckles from behind you, his grip tightening. 

“What makes you think that?” he sneers. 

“Look around you, man-” Matt says.  “We’ve got you cornered.”

Atwood shoves the barrel of the gun harshly against your temple, making your head spin. 

“I like my odds.”

His eyes flicker to the clock on the wall- a motion that Rossi picks up on immediately. 

“What’re you waiting for Greg?” There’s a taunting tone to his voice. “For three o’clock?”

Atwood’s head shoots up. That hit a nerve. 

“We know what your plan was, Greg,” Emily says.  “We found the bomb.”

For a brief moment, you feel the gun being dropped from your temple.  Just as quickly, the sound of a single gunshot makes you flinch.  Atwood drops to the floor behind you, collapsing in a pool of his own blood. 

It was Matt who took the shot- taking advantage of the brief moment of hesitation that Atwood demonstrated.  You turn to him, trying to express your gratitude, but your head is spinning. 

“You’re okay,” Emily states.  It sounds like she’s trying more to convince herself of that fact. 

You nod without even realizing it. 

Matt’s the first one at your side. He’s frantically ripping away the ropes from your wrist.  There’s ligature marks already visible on your skin. 

Cops and EMTs start rushing through the room just as Emily speaks into her mic that it’s clear.  

You try to stand up, but the world around you spins immediately, tilting on its axis.  You almost black out in just about half a second. 

“Woah-” Emily says.  

Matt catches you before you fall to the floor.  

You struggle to look around the room, but everything is too bright and people are moving too fast.  It’s impossible to tell who’s here and who’s not. 

“L-Luke?” You hesitate because you almost don’t want to know. 

Matt gives you a soft smile, pausing when you’re finally free from your restraints. “He’s okay, he’s outside.”

You blink a few times, not sure if you heard him right. “He’s alive?” you lock eyes with Matt. 

Matt nods, his face sincere. 

“But he’s hurt- Atwood said-”

“Hey,” Matt whispers, tightening his grip around your waist.  “He’s okay, I’ll take you to him.”

You let out a sigh of relief, but it could double as a soft sob.  There are tears falling down your cheeks. 

With Matt bearing the majority of your weight, you let him lead you out of the building.  The glaring, afternoon sun makes it hard to see once you get outside, but you trust Matt’s guidance. 

After only a few steps, you hear your name being called. 

It’s so hard to focus, and you can feel your vision blurring in and out- but you’d know that voice anywhere. 

“Luke-” you whisper tentatively, because you still weren’t entirely sure that the voice wasn’t a hallucination. 

But then you hear it again.  This time it’s clearer and closer. 

You blink a few more times, the brightness fading as you strain to see. 

Slowly, Luke’s figure comes into focus.  He’s rushing towards you, and you realize that’s the first time since being taken that you feel like you could breathe again. 

“Oh my God-” Luke stammers.  Once he reaches you, he hesitates, like he’s too afraid to touch you.  You were sure nothing about you looked even remotely beautiful right now.  Between the bruises on your face and your tear-stained cheeks, you can only imagine the type of image Luke was taking in. “Are you okay?” he asks, he grasps your upper arms gently. 

You ignore his question and throw your arms around him, letting your cheek rest against his chest.  He wraps his arms around you, one hand falling on your upper back, while the other cradles the back of your head.  He kisses your hair firmly before pulling away.  He holds you at an arm’s length and scans your body. 

He takes in the sight of you.  There’s bruising along your jawline, red swirled with blues and purples from broken blood vessels.  It makes his stomach lurch to know you’d been hurt like this- that he couldn’t stop you from being hurt like this.  

There’s blood caked into the side of your hair- crusty and turning dark crimson.  Luke runs his thumb along the length of it.  

Suddenly, he sees you frown.  After blinking a few more times, his face has finally come into focus, which allows you to see the cut visible on his forehead. “Your head-” you observe. 

Luke starts protesting immediately.  “I’m fine, I’m okay.” His small cut was nothing compared to the bruises that inevitably littered your body. 

Your head spins again, making you sway in place.  Luke’s quick to wrap an arm around you and you fall into his side with ease, wincing when his hand falls on your bruised side. 

The EMTs are already on the street, ready to throw you into the back of an ambulance. 

You try to protest, assuring Luke and everyone else that you were fine. But Luke insists.  “You need to be checked out.  You’re not fine.”  

It feels like forever before the hospital clears you.  You have a concussion and a couple broken ribs, nothing that won’t heal on its own.  You’re grateful to not be more severely injured.  But you’re also just exhausted and sore and ready to go home. 

Luke barely let’s go of your hand, let alone leaves your side for the next twenty four hours. It’s comforting having him beside you, but you don’t like seeing him so worried. 

Once you’re discharged from the hospital, Luke and you head straight to the jet, where the rest of the team is waiting.  

Everyone wants to know how you’re feeling- how you’re holding up.  But talking about it made you think about it, and you really didn’t want to think about it. 

The plane ride home feels agonizingly long.  Every time the jet jostles or has turbulence, you wince. And every time you wince, everyone rushes to your side to make sure you’re alright. 

“Can I get you anything?” Tara asks.  She had just stood up to refill her own cup of tea.  

You shake your head, offering her your most convincing smile. “No thanks, I’m fine.”

“Blanket?” Reid offers. 

“Ice pack?”

“Want to talk about it?”

“Coffee?”

“Vodka?”

You decline. 

You sprawl out on the couch with your head resting in Luke’s lap and feign sleep just to avoid their fretting.  It makes you feel guilty to know you had them all so worried. 

His hands are in your hair, stroking the strands softly. 

“Luke, m’tired,” you whisper quietly enough so that only he hears. 

“I know,” Luke answers.  “We’re almost home.”

You lose track of the rest of the plane ride to your scattered brain, only picking up on small details: the murmur of Rossi and Emily talking beside you, the roughness of Luke’s jeans against your bruised cheek, the way your legs have to be slightly bent in order to fit on the couch.  Time passes in a disorienting lurch. 

It is an eternity before you land in Virginia.

And it’s an even longer eternity before you’re pulling into the driveway of you and Luke’s shared house. 

He tries to help you walk up to the door but you wave him away.  “I got it, I’m fine.”

You add a small smile when you see the hurt look on his face. 

“Bed or couch?” he asks while rushing to collect his keys out of his pocket. 

“Couch,” you murmur.  Your choice was based solely on the fact that the couch was significantly closer to you than the bed.  It also didn’t involved a flight of stairs. 

Luke drops your bags by the entryway before guiding you to the living room. His hand hovers wearily on your lower back- like he’s afraid you’ll collapse at any moment. 

You exhale choppily when you’re finally able to sit down on the couch.  It’s worn, familiar fabric makes you feel safer. Your eyes are heavy and your head wants to lull forward.  It’s hard to focus. 

Luke pulls the throw blanket down from the back of the couch and lays it gently on top of you.  It’s warmth brings comfort and ease.  

Luke kisses your forehead gently.  

“I’m gonna go grab some water,” he tells you. 

You just mumble incoherently in response. 

You quickly succumb to the exhaustion- letting your eyes fall shut.  But as soon as you let them close, his face appears.  It’s right in front of you, so close that if you reached out you could touch him.  Atwood is flashing his teeth with his signature evil grin, their tint of yellow and crookedness felt way too detailed to be a dream.  You wonder if you’re back in the basement- if you never really left in the first place.  Maybe being rescued was the dream. 

A soft clinking sound makes you shoot up from the couch, alert and panting while you frantically look around the room.  

Luke is setting a glass of water on the coffee table in front of you, but your startled response makes him whip his head towards you. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, face full of worry. 

As soon as you see him, you realize that you’re home and safe. You try to calm yourself down, embarrassed by your reaction.   

You take a deep breath. “Nothing,” you mumble, shaking it off.  “I’m fine.”

You both knew it was a lie. 

But Luke doesn’t argue- he doesn’t push.  He just settled down beside you on the couch, his arm wrapping around your shoulders carefully.  

You wait for a minute, steadying your breathing, before attempting to close your eyes again.  At first, it’s just the back of your eyelids and their darkness.  You stay focused on that and your breathing.  

As you finally start to relax, you start to feel a strange pressure against your wrists.  You jostle your arms, but for some reason they won’t move.  You’re stuck in place- restrained to the chair again. 

Suddenly, you feel Atwood’s fist against your jaw- his ring tearing open the flesh of your cheek.  His snickering is loud in your ears. 

You snap your eyes open again- you’re met by your dimly lit living room.  

Luke’s thumb is trailing up and down your arm comfortingly.  You were safe- these images you were seeing weren’t real. 

The third time you close your eyes- you see him almost instantly.  This time he’s close enough so that you can feel his hot breath on your neck.  

You shoot up quickly, panting heavily.  Your face collapses in your hands as you try to rub the images from your eyes.

It was real. It was very real, and you had the markings and bruises to prove it. 

This- laying on your own couch, finally getting to sleep- was what you’d been waiting for.  But now that your adrenaline had faded and some of the grogginess from your concussion had subsided, you couldn’t shut your eyes without hearing him, seeing him, feeling him- all over.

Luke sits up too, attentive to your uneasiness. 

“I c-can’t-” your voice is shaky.  “I can’t close my eyes,” you explain. 

Luke’s large hand rubs your back soothingly.

“I can’t close my eyes without seeing him.”

Luke nods, his hand travels from your back to your arm, he grips it securely before leaning in and pressing his lips to your temple.  You lean into his touch, letting him pull you closer to him.  He falls back against the couch, and you fall against his chest, practically on top of him at this point. 

“You're safe now,” he soothes. 

“I’m so tired,” you whisper, exhaustion making you start to tear up.  

“I know,” Luke murmurs.  His fingers trail up and down your arm, leaving a path of goosebumps in their wake. 

It doesn’t take long of Luke holding you like that for you to fall asleep.  At first, it’s nothingness- just a deep, peaceful slumber.  Until it isn’t. 

This time you don’t see Atwood.  Instead, you see someone curled up on the ground.  As you step closer, you realize it’s Luke.  You call out to him, but there’s no response. 

When he doesn’t answer, you reach your hand out, fingers grazing his bicep.  His skin feels ice cold.  You shake him lightly- but there’s no response.  Harder this time, you pull his weight towards you, hoping to get his attention.  Instead, Luke’s lifeless body flops onto his back.  His eyes are still open, lifelessly baring into your own. His mouth is parted slightly but there’s no air coming in or out of it.  That’s when you see the blood dripping down his face and pooled beneath his hair. 

You wake up screaming. 

“Hey-” Luke’s spinning and sitting up to position himself in front of you.  He cups your face between his hands. “Hey, hey- you’re okay. You’re safe, I got you.”

But you shake your head.  “It wasn’t me-”

Luke’s brown eyes narrow slightly, like he’s trying to understand. 

“It was you,” you say, voice fading into a sob.  “He t-told me that he k-” you swallow the lump in your throat, but it does little to make you stop crying.  “He told me that he killed you.  He told me you were dead.” 

Just saying it outloud makes you erupt into a puddle of tears.  You’re so distraught that you barely notice Luke pulling you into his lap on the couch. 

He’s murmuring soothing words into your ear, but continues letting you cry into his chest.  The numbness from earlier had completely worn off, and while you were scared and hurt- it felt good to feel something other than exhaustion.  

You’re not sure how long you stay like that- curled into Luke’s chest sobbing into his cotton t-shirt.  At some point, Luke had used his free hand to reach for the remote.  He put your favorite show on the television.  You’d seen every episode several times, but Luke knew it brought you comfort. 

Your eyes were red rimmed and puffy and you sniffled weakly. “I’m sorry I’m keeping you from sleeping,” you whispered, when you were confident you wouldn’t burst into tears again. 

Luke tightened his grip around you. “It’s okay,” he assures you.  “We’re both concussed, and I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to sleep while you’re concussed, anyway.”

You smile. 

Luke linked your hands together, looking down at you and giving you a soft smile. “I love you.” He whispered, lips pressing against the top of your head.

“I love you too.” you replied quietly.

Things were a mess.  And you were sad and scared and it would probably take a lot of sleepless nights and painful sobs for you to get through this.  Luke would be there to dry your tears though, just like he always was. And Luke would probably have to try harder to keep you feeling safe and eventually, you were going to have to talk about what happened.

But right now, wrapped in each other's arms on your shared couch, all you needed was each other.   

#luke alvez fic #luke alvez imagine #luke alvez x reader imagine #luke alvez fanfiction #luke alvez angst #luke alvez fanfic #luke alvez x reader #luke alvez x reader fanfic #luke alvez x reader fanfiction #luke alvez x reader fic #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader fanfic #criminal minds x reader fic

[lucy90712]

Dream- face reveal

wc- 1971 

Warnings: use of dreams real name

~ I have been friends with this guy on the internet Dream for about 5 years now, we talk all the time but we have never met in person and I have never seen his face. He doesn't show his face on the internet and I've never asked so it just never happened, he knows what I look like all too well because I like sending him stupid selfies and we FaceTime in the middle of the night all the time.

We have been trying to meet in person for years but things keep getting in the way and changing our plans first family issues, then a hurricane and then a whole pandemic. Despite all of this we have finally set a date to meet which is not going to change not for anything or anyone. It's going to be a big day or should I say month, as insane as it sounds I'm going to move in with Dream and Sapnap one of our other friends for a little while to really make this trip worth it even if it only lasts that long.

The process has been difficult because for me to get to Florida I need to get a plane which requires me to get tested before I fly and for my own piece of mind I have been strictly quarantining for the past two weeks but its finally here. I fly out tomorrow morning. I went and got tested yesterday and got my negative result today which I need to get on the plane.

I've been packing all day today because to be there for a month I need a bunch of my set up and cameras so that my content doesn't just stop but then I also need clothes and I can't seem to get both things to fit quite right.

At one point my phone started ringing but there was a mountain of stuff everywhere so I had to dig around to find it and when I did I saw that it was a FaceTime call from Dream, I picked up and immediately put my phone down to get on with my 5th attempt at packing.

"Yo hows it going?" Dream asked

"I'd say pretty average right now I'm super excited for tomorrow but my bag is giving me a hell of a fight" I replied

"Prop your phone up and I'll try and help" he said

I did as I was told and got my small tripod to rest my phone in where you could see what I was looking at. Honestly it was a mess and I was kind of embarrassed but Dream didn't need to know that and besides my face wasn't in frame so he couldn't see how embarrassed I was. I attempted putting everything in a slightly different way to last time which seemed to work until it came to fitting in my tripod and my wash bag of which there was no room for.

"Fuck sake I thought I had it then" I raged slightly

"Ok take out the webcam and forget about the tripod because I have ones that you can use and then try because I think that should give you enough room" he said

"Hell yeah thanks dream" I said after zipping up the suitcase

I flopped back on the floor tired from the minimal amounts of effort I had put in today which just shows how incredibly unfit I am. I recovered before getting up and moving my phone to my desk where I sat to talk to Dream.

We talked for a while until Sapnap came in and I talked to him for a little while, he's been living with Dream for a few months so he warned me about a few things like you don't wake Dream up which I took note of and he told me that Dream will just come and sit in your stream. Eventually they had to leave so I was left on my own to just kind of chill until it was an acceptable time to go to sleep.

Skip to the morning

I woke up at 5am when my alarm went off, I have a love hate relationship with my alarm because I only ever use it when I have something going on which is exciting but the sound makes me want to throw my phone out the window. Despite my annoyance I got up and went straight to the bathroom to shower and get dressed, I thought about wearing something nice but then I realised I had a 5 hour flight and I couldn't bare the thought of being sat down for that long not in comfy clothes. My comfy outfit consisted of leggings and one of my ex boyfriends hoodies because I never gave it back and I'm over it enough to just wear the hoodie whenever I want.

At just before 6 I got in my Uber to head to the airport seeing as my flight was at around 8 it would be wise to get there early. I wasn't sure how busy the airport would be seeing as you aren't meant to travel but I don't think I've ever seen an airport that wasn't busy.

I made it to the airport and as I assumed it wasn't heaving but there was still a fair amount of people around. I made my way through the crowds and checked in for my flight before heading through security and then making it to the main part of the airport. That part was less busy as there is more space for people to spread out into which made me much less anxious about people being too close. I had a little while to wait for my flight so I went and got some food because I haven't eaten today, and I don't want to end up with a headache.

When it was time for my flight to board I went to the gate and got straight into my seat watching as more people boarded but not as many as I expected, it was clear that all of the people on the flight had a good reason to be going to Florida and not just going on holiday and no one was sat together so all rules were being adhered to.

My flight landed 5 hours later and everyone filed off the plane going there own way leaving me kind of lost in a place that I wasn't used to and with the anxiety of going to meet Dream for the first time. I had a bit longer to wait because I had to get an Uber to the house even though dream offered to come and pick me up I told him not to because the less people at the airport the better and just incase people recognised me I didn't want him to accidentally face reveal.

I collected my suitcase and went straight out to the car park to get in my uber who was waiting just outside the doors in the designated area for taxis. As soon as I got in the car I text Dream letting him know I was on my way and sharing my location just in case things went south.

My uber stopped outside this one house and I got out walking up the drive taking in the house number to make sure I was at the right place which I was. Thats when the nerves really kicked in, I was about to meet one of my best friends in person for the first time. This is so insane to think that after all there years we get to do all the stupid things friends do.

I got to the door and rang the doorbell waiting the few excruciating seconds before I heard movement behind it indicating that there was someone there. It opened slowly and the first person I saw was sapnap who of course I was excited to see but we have talked properly on FaceTime before so I already know what he looks like.

Next another person popped up behind pushing sapnap out the way and giving me a hug straight away I knew it had to be dream but he ran over so quick that I didn't get to take in anything other than the fact he was hugging me. He pulled away and I got to look at his face, he looked pretty much exactly how I thought he would from the descriptions I have heard. As much as wavy length doesn't sound like a thing it somehow fit his hair and his eyes were also super green, he was definitely taller than I expected though this man towered over me like it was nothing and could definitely push me to the ground in a second but he looked kind just how you want a friend to be.

After a few minutes of freaking out that this was actually happening they let me inside and gave me a tour of the house showing me my room and the set up they had put together for me with a webcam and tripod just like dream said. They finished off the tour before I was made to sit and play whatever game they wanted with them.

We played an assortment of games for hours on end before we ordered food for dinner which we ate all chilling on the sofa. I almost forgot that my followers didn't know I was here but when I remembered I stole patches from dream and got him to take a picture of me with her to post on twitter and Instagram because people would get it without me having to explain. Not much of a grand reveal considering Sapnap did the same when he got here but I didn't really have any other ideas I mean its not like I can just do dream's face reveal for him with a picture on my twitter can I. The response to my tweet was insane within minutes people had got it trending and they were freaking out with all sorts of theories of if I'd officially moved in or if I was just visiting although both were kind of right.

Having spent a few hours here now I feel very at home they boys are really welcoming making sure I'm all good and not too tired after my flight which of course I am but sleep is for the weak so I'll wait. I have been told to call the two of them by their real names unless its on stream which feels kind of odd because I'm use to calling them what their know by despite knowing their real names the whole time. They have given me a nickname which I now go by to make it fair.

It was sad when the day came to an end when we all decided it was best to get some sleep even though I think their going to stay up and they said it for my own sake because I've been yawning non stop for the past 2 hours but either way I'm going to go to sleep and this day (one of the best days of my life) will become that of a memory.

Although I don't think this day could have gone any better its consisted of everything I've ever wanted to have in a friend but none of my friends back home if you can call them friends are into the same things as me so it never works out. Now I have two friends who share the same interests and have the same god awful sleep schedule so we can stay up messing around together if we want to which is what life as a 20 year old should be like. Fun.

#dream x reader #dream #mcyt #dsmp #dream team

[professormembranexreader]

Dead! Membrane x Necromancer! NB! Reader (Fluff)

(Y/N)'s POV

God, this class was a chore. Well, all of them were. But the journalism class at the college I went to, specifically. I was only taking this class because a friend wanted me to.

We had to interview someone we looked up to. And write a report based on the information we learned. It was supposed to be a way to show what we already know.

I asked if we could do someone who was dead, and she allowed it. On the condition we show proof we were with them. How funny. If it weren't a challenge.

That's right. I was determined to do my report on someone dead. Who? Why, the most influential man of all time—Professor Membrane.

But there was an obvious problem. How do you actually interview a dead person and get proof you were with them?

To me the answer was obvious. Necromancy.

I went to the local occult store. I'd never believed in this shit, but it was my best bet. Plus, if all else fails: photoshop.

The girl at the counter was hella cute. Who knew all the cuties worked at the occult stores? The girl and I talked, and I found out her name was Penelope. We then flirted for a bit, and I somehow secured a date.

But first I needed to raise the dead. Priorities, people.

I got a dagger, candles, and a book.

I looked in the book for the right ritual, and found out I needed the fresh blood of an animal on the knife. I'm an animal, right? Technically I am. While I didn't like the idea of cutting myself, it was going to be worth it.

Soon, I went over to the burial site. It was the only one on the hill. The trek up left me tired. But it was time to do this.

I was prepared. But not ready.

I slit the back of my arm with the ritual knife and pressed it to the raised ground. Once a good amount of blood was soaked into the dirt, I tried to bandage the cut up. I didn't do a good job, but it was enough to stop the bleeding.

Funny enough, if you just say what you want to happen in Latin, hold any occult book and a bloody dagger, and get some gold colored candles, it will happen.

Because sure enough when I began chanting, it began to storm. And that was NOT in today's forecast. I continued with my unholy chant.

"Unum, quod fuerit abiit

resurget post longa

quod tempus habet, diminutae

revertetur, et morari"

The rain one by one put out the candles. Spooky. But expected.

The ground shifted. Almost like it was being disturbed from underneath. Bingo. I peered over the candles and looked closer at the burial site.

Suddenly a laser shot up from the ground. I stumbled backwards. A gloved hand rose from the earth. My eyes widened and I smiled.

I did it. I raised the dead. I'm. Amazing.

As I cheered and hollered, the hand clawed at the ground, trying to pull the body up. Another hand sprouted from the opening in the dirt. It pushed apart the ground until there was a wide hole.

The sound of an engine sputtering to life was heard, and as I looked up, I saw him. He was floating above the grave. I forgot he was buried with his rocket shoes.

"Dónde soy?" He was talking. Oh my god. He was actually talking. "¿Quien es usted?"

"Holy shit, you're actually conscious," I blurted out.

"¡Ey! ¡Lenguaje! ¿Y por qué no estaría?"

I stared at him. "Do you not...speak English?" I put my hand on my chin. "Coulda sworn you did..."

"Oh, inglés." He cleared his throat. "Is this better?"

"Much. Thank you, Professor." I took out my notepad. "Can I interview you?"

He raised an eyebrow and put a gloved hand to his chin. "I don't see why not... what do you want to know, amigx?"

"Well, let's start with some standard stuff," I said, pulling out the tripod and video camera. "You don't mind if I record this, right?"

"By all means, go ahead."

I hit the record button and introduced myself and my interviewee.

I pulled out the notepad that I filled with questions and a pencil to write down his answers.

"First thing's first, do remember how you died?"

"Well..." he said, putting a gloved hand on his chin, "the last thing I remember was trying to give a speech when I felt this TERRIBLE pain in my jaw! I don't know what happened to me, but it's... more difficult to talk now..."

I scribbled down shorthand of his words until my eyes widened—he didn't know. "Do you...wish to know, sir?"

"No, thank you. If I knew I'd be thinking about it for much longer than I'd be comfortable with."

"Understandable, now onto the actual interview." We talked for a while, going back and forth. I flipped through the pages until my questions came to an end.

I put away the interview materials and went to turn off the camera. Once I did, I turned to speak to him. "Look. I, uh... need some advice."

"Is this for the interview?"

"Nonononono—the camera is off, the pencil is down, notepad in my pocket—it's not for the interview."

"Pues, ¿qué quieres?" Membrane asked.

"Dude, I don't speak Spanish."

"Ah, my apologies. I wasn't thinking. I asked what you wanted."

Oh.

"Well, uh, I need advice." He looked to me expectantly. He made circles with his hand indicating to continue. "I'm uh... god, this is kinda awkward. I just raised you from the dead and I'm about to ask you this."

"What is it, amigx?"

"How do you go on a date with a pretty girl?" I blurted out.

"¿Qué?"

"Okay, I know enough Spanish to know what that means. So, I was getting the stuff to, you know, bring you back from the dead. And I may have been flirting with the cashier and I got a date with her that I am terrified of because I've never been on a-"

"Cálmate. It's just a date."

"BUT SHE'S REALLY PRETTY!" I exclaimed.

"I don't doubt that, but you need to calm down. Panicking will solve nothing, amigx." He placed his hands on my shoulders. "Breathe."

I followed his advice and did the best I could to steady my breathing. Once it was more level, he let go of me.

"Now, while I don't have any personal experience with this-"

"You what?" I said. Did I hear him right?

"I said that I didn't have any firsthand experience, now if I may-"

"Waitwaitwaitwait, you mean to tell me...that you've never been on a date before?"

"Well, it wasn't necessarily a priority for me..." Membrane said quietly, "but I think I know how to help."

I cocked my head. "What did you have in mind?"

———————————————————

An hour later, I showed up in tux. Because who doesn't look good in a tux? Was I overdressed? Yes. Did I care? No.

We were having a picnic in a mausoleum nearby Membrane's grave. Close enough so the doohickey that he gave me—whatever it was—was within range of him so it could work.

He'd asked me to bring him a necklace, a cheap mic, and two Bluetooth headsets. What he did, I have no clue, but he gave me a necklace with a mic "charm" and a earpiece that wrapped around my ear.

It allowed me to transmit audio to him from my location to him, and, in addition, it allowed him to relay audio to me.

"So Penelope-"

"Please, call me Pen." She smiled. Cute.

"So, uh, Pen...I may have been using the items I bought," I stammered.

Pen laughed. "What'd you do? Raise the dead? Hahahaha..." She kept laughing until she realized my red face. "Wait..." she paused, "Did you really do that?"

"M-maybe?" I said, voice getting higher.

"YO. THAT IS SO COOL!" She was beaming. Membrane was not happy with me confessing this.

But I didn't care.

I smiled. "Would you...want to see him?" I asked Pen. I could hear his panicked voice in my ear, but I ignored him.

"oh my god, really? You'd let me do that?"

"Well... if he's okay with it..." I got up off of the ground. "Let me go ask."

I started sprinting over to his grave. By the time I got there I was completely out of breath.

He pulled down his collar. "What are you thinking?!" he hissed.

"I'M SORRY! But it just popped out and I kinda have to show her you now." I scratched the back of my head, "Can I?"

He let out a long sigh before nodding and pulling his collar back up. "Fine. But you better at least stay friends, or else..."

I bounced up and down, clapping my hands. "Thank you so much, Membrane!"

I ran back down the hill and went to Pen and bent down to catch my breath.

"He...hah... said you—god damn, I'm out of breath—could see him."

"You...okay?" Pen asked me.

I looked up and smiled. "NOPE!" I jumped back onto my feet. "Let's do this!"

I took her hand and practically dragged her towards his grave. We got closer to the hill, when she paused. I stumbled, but caught myself.

"Why'd you stop, Pen?"

"Did you...?" she trailed off.

"Did I what?" I cocked my head to the side.

She shook me by my shoulders. "DID YOU RAISE PROFESSOR MEMBRANE FROM THE DEAD?!"

"Well, I had to interview SOMEONE-" She bust out laughing and started jogging forward again. I followed after her with a smile.

When we got to the top of the hill, he was "calmly" waiting for us. But I could just barely make out the sweat rolling down his face.

He extended a gloved hand to Pen who just stared at him in awe. "Oh my god. You're asking me to shake your hand—(Y/N), he's asking me to shake his hand."

"Shake his hand, Pen. He doesn't bite," I paused, "as far as I know." He blushed and started sputtering while Pen just laughed.

She shook his hand and he seemed to recompose himself. "Hello there, Pen! My name is Professor Membrane. It is a pleasure to meet you."

Pen smiled. "It's been a dream of mine to meet you in person. When I learned you had died, I never thought I'd get the chance to."

"Well today's your lucky day." He was smiling. "(Y/N)?" he asked me.

"Yes, sir?"

"How long does this ritual allow me to be conscious? I have theories I need to pass on."

"Only a few more hours... at dawn you'll go back to...you know... being dead."

A lightbulb went off in my head. If I was going to be a scientist, I could elaborate on his theories and test them. I could be revolutionary. But I needed his permission.

"Sir, if I may, would you allow me to test your theories? And if so, I don't know if I'd be able to properly credit you, so in the case I can't, would you mind?"

He thought for a minute, before shrugging his shoulders. "If it's in the name of science, I don't see why not. But are you up for the challenge, amigx?"

I nod my head, and Pen smiles at me.

"What are we waiting for? Let's get going!"

And for the next hour and forty-five minutes, I copied his words down by hand while Pen got the information out of him.

It was then that the sky started to turn orange.

"Quick! Back into the ground! We can't push you in." I said.

Pen chuckled at the last part. "Yeah! Your arms are too heavy!"

"¡Oye! Yo sé, yo sé. Soy yendo." He hopped into the hole in the earth. "It was a pleasure meeting you two kids. I believe you'll both go on to do great things."

He crossed his arms over his chest and fell backwards into the ground. "See you on the other side, amigx."

"See you on the other side, Professor." I gave him a small "see ya" hand motion. Pen and I spent the rest of the day chatting and getting to know each other while I worked on my project.

I turned in my report and got a 100. Hell yeah.

I got another date with Pen. Hell fucking yeah.

I've started to compile his works and research. Slowly, it started to make more and more sense. I completed the class and went on to pursue my career in science.

Maybe I'll go on to do great things after all.

#writing #membrane #professor membrane #professor membrane x reader

[seanfalco]

Dear best friend, could I please request some sean x reader fluff to help me get through the rest of this shitty day/week? I'd be eternally grateful. Maybe with some Derek shenanigans thrown in if you're cool with that. Just whenever you can get to it. You're the best. Thank you for everything. 💖💖💖

word count: 1.5k a/n: Pushing this prompt to the top of the list bc you need all the fluff and comfort.  I hope you enjoy!

“Yo, dog, what’re you doin’ later tonight?” Derek asked as he leaned back on the couch, folding his hands behind his head as he glanced over at his friend.

“I’m pickin’ up [y/n] and we’re goin’ out star-gazin’.  There’s supposed t’be this big meteor shower tonight and I wanna get some long exposure shots,” Sean explained.

“Ooo, look at you mister romantic,” Derek teased, reaching over to nudge Sean’s arm.

“You know it,” he replied with a smirk, waggling his eyebrows.

“You gunna get lucky under the stars, bro?” Derek asked with a cheeky grin, dodging the swat aimed at his arm.

“Hey c’mon man, no,” Sean exclaimed, biting back a grin until he caught his friend’s eyes and they both snorted, dissolving into laughter.  

“Yeah, uh huh,” Derek commented skeptically, amusement thick in his voice.

“It’s gunna be too cold out for that Derek,” Sean countered, rolling his eyes.  “I need t’make some hot chocolate to bring,” he mused, making a mental list of everything he’d need to get around for the night.

“Yeah well, bring lots of blankets, I dunno,” Derek replied with a shrug.  “You can get frisky under a blanket.”

Sean gave him a long suffering look, but he couldn’t stop grinning for long, the idea rather tempting.

“Well, either way, I hope you two lovebirds have fun.”

“Thanks man,” Sean replied, his voice sobering, infinitely thankful for his friend’s presence, especially every time he remembered how close he’d been to losing him.

“I mean, I kinda have to live vicariously through you, since I’m still single, so…” Derek shrugged.

“We’ll find yeh a girl yet, mate.  Then y’can come on double dates with us,” Sean teased as Derek grinned wider.

“Hey now, don’t joke with a brother, now.  I’m holdin’ you to that!”

——

“Oh my God, will you look at that view?” you gasped as you stepped out of the car and turned your face to the heavens.  The lights of the city were far enough away that you could see the stars twinkling back at you crisper than you’d seen them in a long time, the sight leaving you in awe.

Across the car Sean smiled to himself as he watched you.  “It’s beautiful isn’t it?” he murmured.

“It really is,” you breathed, not realizing he was talking about you.  “This was such a good idea, Sean, I can’t remember the last time I went stargazing, let alone saw a meteor shower.”

“Well, I’m just glad it’s such a clear night.  The forecast originally called for clouds,” he replied, tearing his eyes from you to start unpacking the car and soon he had his camera set up on the tripod and several blankets laid out nearby.

“What kinds of shots are you hoping to get tonight?” you asked as you settled atop the blankets, crossing your legs under you, the chill in the air already making you shiver and you threw one of the blankets around your shoulders, drawing it in tight.

“Oh, some long exposure shots of th’stars, hopefully catch some of the meteor shower.  Might set the shutter speed for longer and do some time lapse shots,” Sean mused as he checked the camera, turning it on you for a moment and snapping a picture while you were unprepared.

“Plus there’s always room for more candids of you,” he teased, taking another as you tilted your head and stuck your tongue out at him, ready this time.

“Absolutely stunnin’,” he murmured with a grin as he checked the LCD screen before his gaze flicked back up to you.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re lucky you’re so cute,” you countered, which only made Sean’s grin widen.

“I am rather cute, aren’t I?” he joked, his eyes meeting yours as he repositioned his camera, amusement dancing in his irises.

“And so humble too,” you teased.

“Well, I’ve been spending a lot of time with this girl, and she keeps tellin’ me that, so I’m startin’ t’believe it.”

Feeling your cheeks heat, you hid your fond smile behind your scarf, burying your face in the warm chunky wool as you watched Sean snap several photos of the night sky, the click of the shutter delayed to catch the stars in sharp detail.

That was when you saw the first falling star streak across the sky.  “Sean, did you see that?” you gasped, pointing, your eyes searching the heavens for more.

“I did!” he cried excitedly, snapping another photo as more meteors trailed across the star speckled expanse before winking out of sight.

After taking several more shots Sean set up the camera for a longer time lapse photo before settling down on the blanket next to you.

“There,” he exclaimed, and you opened the blanket around you to share as he scooted closer, wrapping the other end around his shoulders.  “Oh God, [y/n], your hands are freezin’,” he said, quickly enveloping your hands in his, bringing them to his lips to blow on.

“Yours aren’t much warmer,” you pointed out with a laugh, though Sean’s breath helped. 

“Hmm, you’re right,” he agreed with a chuckle.  ���How about some hot chocolate?  That should warm us up.”

“Sounds divine,” you exclaimed, though silently lamenting when his hands left yours to reach for the thermos nearby.

Sean poured two steaming mugs and you sighed as you wrapped your hands around the one he handed to you — your favourite mug to use whenever you were at his place.  After he’d noticed you using it every time you came to visit he officially designated it as yours, always having it at the ready for you to use.

“Much better,” you exclaimed, breathing in the steam from the cocoa and leaning against his shoulder as you sipped, your gaze continually slipping from the starry expanse overhead to the man next to you.

Once you’d finished your mugs Sean got back up to check the camera, setting up another shot before joining you again, this time pulling you against his side as he laid back, one arm around you while the other rested behind his head.  His warmth seeped into you and you snuggled closer, gasping in awe as the meteor shower began in earnest, the inky sky filled with streaks of light, hurtling across the heavens before blinking out again.

“How many wishes have y’made?” Sean asked, his breath misting in the cool air as he broke the silence of the night around you and you turned your face to him.

“What d’you mean?”

“Well, aren’tcha supposed t’make a wish on a fallin’ star?” he asked, a twinkle in his eye as he grinned back at you.

“I guess so,” you chuckled, his grip around your shoulder tightening as he squeezed you.

“Then what’re y’waitin’ for sweetheart?  You’ve missed so many opportunities already,” he commented in faux seriousness, gesturing toward the sky before his grin returned, unable to hold it back any longer.

“Okay, okay!” you laughed.  “Well, what about you?  What’ve you wished for?” you asked as you caught sight of another meteor, silently making a wish.

“I can’t tell you that,” he said with a gasp.

“Why not?”

“Don’t you know it won’t come true then?” he teased and you poked him lightly in the ribs.

“You know, I think someone just made that up because they were too embarrassed to say what their wish was,” you countered thoughtfully.  

“Well, do y’blame ‘em?” Sean countered, raising an eyebrow at you.  “Most wishes are really personal.  Would you wanna tell me what you wished for?” he asked, holding your gaze and you felt your breath catch.

“I wish you’d kiss me right now,” you murmured and for a moment Sean watched you, his eyes searching yours before a soft grin split his face and he rolled toward you, catching your lips with his as his hand slipped behind your head, cradling you, pulling you closer.  Instinctively you clutched at his jacket, kissing him back, your heart in your throat.

“Oh, [y/n],” he exclaimed, pulling back slightly, “your lips are so cold.  D’you want me t’warm them up for you?”

Cheeky bastard, you thought fondly, unable to stop smiling.

“If you’d be so kind, Sean, but first--”

Before you could finish your sentence his mouth had once more descended on yours and your words melted to a soft moan.

“Sorry, got a little over eager there, but can y’blame me?” he murmured against your lips with a soft laugh, smiling down at you, “what were y’sayin’ darlin’?”

“What did you wish for?” you asked, your hand at his lapel coming up to stroke the side of his face and he leaned into your touch, green eyes sparkling.

“Oh, that?  I wished for more nights like this one.”

Your grin widened as you stared up at him, not even upset that you were missing the meteor shower continuing above you, already dazzled by the man in your arms.

“What a coincidence, I just wished for that too.”

Pulling Sean back to you, you let your eyes flutter shut as he picked up where he’d left off, his kisses warming you better even than the hot chocolate had.

#bad samaritan #sean falco #sean falco x reader #sean falco imagines #robert sheehan character fic #prompt request #midnightseance #my writing

[kareofbears]

number one fan

At the best of times, a large group of teenagers in one area is a mild inconvenience to traverse with. In between rows and rows of filled chairs in a packed gymnastics stadium, it’s a nightmare.

Especially when someone unexpected is sitting close by. 

—

read on ao3 or under the cut :) 

(lovingly beta read by @mad4turtles)

At the best of times, a large group of teenagers in one area is a mild inconvenience to traverse with. In between rows and rows of filled chairs in a packed gymnastics stadium, it’s a nightmare.

“Man, it’s so effin’ crowded here,” Ryuji grumbles, half-shoving people out of the way. They learned early on to make him spearhead the group in packed environments, given that he’s the only one with enough guts to openly ask crowds to move out of the way. He’s like a pissed-off shepherd towing his sheep.

“What do you expect?” Makoto sighs, one hand gripping Haru’s wrist and the other clutching Ann’s jacket, kindergarten style. “This is something like the semi-finals, right?”

Akira shrugs, his shoulder rubbing against Ryuji’s from the sheer proximity. “No clue.”

“Didn’t she give you the tickets?”

“Sure she did, but it’s not like it came with some kind of gymnastics handbook.”

“Does anyone even know what type of gymnastics she’s in?” Haru asks, grip tightening around Makoto’s hand when a group of enthusiasts threatens to break them apart.

Ann’s eyes light up. “Oh, the one with the string twirling, right? She posted it on her Insta the other day, she looked so good.”

“She did! I can only imagine how rigorous her regimen must be.”

“Do you think she’d give me her secret? I wonder if she even lets herself snack.”

"I think so? She posted some desserts on her story recently."

Ryuji scratches his head. "There's more than one type of gymnastics?"

Makoto lets her head drop forward. "We don't deserve these tickets."

Akira turns his head back to the rest of them. "We're getting close to our seats," he says with a raised voice to combat the noisy crowd ('raised' only in the sense that it's slightly louder than his usual soft tone. Akira is a man of many talents, but voice projection is not one of them).

Someone from a step above them knocks their elbow into Akira's head, enough to make him stumble back a few steps, surprised.

Ryuji sends a glare at the stranger, eyes dark. "Hey, watch it, you motherfu—"

"And here are our seats!" Makoto claps her hands. "Let's sit before we do something illegal!"

Akira cards through Ryuji's hair, a silent thank you, I love you, but please calm down.

Eventually, he relents. "Fine."

Ann collapses into one of the bright red, plastic seats. "Thank God, my feet were killing me."

Haru joins her, grimacing. "Why are these seats so sticky...?"

"Because whenever they do a real good flip, the fanatics piss themselves."

"Ryuji, what the hell?"

"Sorry."

"Okay everyone," Makoto peers down at her phone. "Competition starts in two minutes. Settle in, but don’t go to the bathroom."

"Don't go to the bathroom?" Akira raises an eyebrow. "Are you Ushimaru?"

"I'm just saying that, given our position, we're basically stuck to our seats until everyone else leaves."

"For real?" Ryuji groans. "I really wanted one of those hot dogs they have, where they're yelling out 'hot dogs!' and shit."

"This isn't some American baseball game, dumbass," Ann snorts.

"I know that!"

Haru points past Ryuji. "If you're really desperate to go, you might be able to ask that man to move his tripod aside to make room for you."

"You're totally right! What a good senpai," he casts a grin at Haru before calling out to the man a few seats down from them. He's dressed bulkily for such a packed stadium: a thick black hoodie with the hood up, and a thick pair of black shades. To top it all off, he has an annoyingly big tripod in front of him with an expensive-looking camera perched on top. "Yo! 'Scuse me!"

Ryuji blinks as the man almost seemed to shift away from him. "Uh, hello? I just got a quick question."

To everyone's surprise, the man seemed to turn even more, his torso twisted in the opposite direction.

Makoto squints. “Maybe he didn’t hear you?”

“Whatever, it’s about to start anyway,” Ryuji falls back into his chair. “I’ll just ask him again when I actually need to go. Oh, look it’s her!”

Sumire stands with her coach, dressed in a bright leotard and a determined expression on her face, nodding along intently.

Ann leans forward over the railing. “Go Yoshizawa! Woo! Come on guys, we’re here to cheer!”

“Well, she did give us the best seats… it only makes sense that we make the most of them.” Haru says, before cupping her hands over her mouth. “Let’s go, Yoshizawa!”

“Hell yeah, Yoshizawa!”

“You can do it!”

“Gymnastics.”

“Akira, you suck.”

Sumire looks up, eyes brightening as she waves back enthusiastically in their direction. To their surprise, she brings her hands together to make a heart.

“That’s sweet of her,” Haru comments. “I wonder who that was for.”

Ryuji rolls his eyes. “Probably Akira.”

“It’s for Akira.”

“Definitely.”

“I don’t think so,” Akira frowns. “She’s never done that before.”

“Man, don’t try to be all humble—everyone knows she had a thing for you.”

“In the first ten minutes, maybe. Now she’s just a little sister,” Akira waves at Sumire. “Go back to cheering.”

“Good idea,” Ryuji takes a deep breath. “Give me a Y!”

“Y!” Ann yells back.

“Give me an O!”

“O!”

Makoto rubs her temples. “We really don’t deserve these tickets.”

—

The competition goes off without a hitch, Sumire taking first place with ease. If the people around them were exasperated with their cheering before, it’s nothing compared to how they screamed their throats raw when she accepted her gold medal. The stranger in the black hoodie kept throwing them dirty looks, but they didn’t care.

“I’m so thirsty,” Ann rasps, once the award ceremony wraps up. “Anyone have water?”

“Nope,” Ryuji stands, stretching his arms above his head. “I need the bathroom pretty bad, though.”

To their misfortune, people are still slowly filing out of their seats, too slow for their liking. There’s a gap in the crowd, but the only way to get to it is through—

“The man is still there?” Haru asks.

“It seems so,” Makoto says. “He’s probably a huge fan of the whole gymnastics scene, given the way he’s so careful with his camera.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that I gotta go,” Ryuji says, before turning to the man once more. “Sorry dude, gotta move past you for real this time.”

And just like before, the man steadfastly ignores him. Akira narrows his eyes.

“Excuse me,” he says, his voice dropping an octave lower. Everyone stiffens. The words he spoke did not belong to Kurusu Akira and is now owned by someone donned in a long, black tail-coat, armed with a knife as sharp as a tack. “Please move. My partner here is trying to walk past you.”

And still, the man doesn’t shift.

Ryuji places a hand on Akira’s forearm. “Chill,” he says, running his hand up and down in what he hopes is a soothing manner. Ryuji might be the one on a hair-trigger temper, but no one has anything on Akira if someone so much as looks at his friends the wrong way.”It’s cool, ‘Kira. If the dude’s busy, then he’s busy. We’ll just wait for the other side to file out, yeah?”

Akira smiles, just a little. “I love you.”

“Love you too, dude.”

“—but you’re too nice.” He rips his arm from Ryuj’s lax grip and saunters over to the man.

“Respect,” Ann mutters, impressed.

“Stupid,” Makoto rectifies, face palming

“Hi there,” Akira greets, faux cheerful in a voice they recognize as his customer service voice. “Still ignoring us? That’s cool,” he shrugs a shoulder. “We’re used to it. Not a problem—we know how to be heard.”

In one, swift movement, Akira stands in front of the tripod.

Ryuji covers his eyes, peeking through his fingers. “I’m dating an actual bastard.”

The man visibly bristles and looks up to send Akira a black look from under his hood.

“Can you—” he hisses, before cutting himself off. “I mean,” clearing his throat, he drops his voice to a low grunt, not too different from a child impersonating an old man. “Move, dammit!”

Haru frowns. “That voice…”

The man shoots her a dirty look, before quickly turning his sight downward, but it was too late: they’ve all already caught a glimpse of his panicked brown eyes.

“Alright, I’ll move,” he says in the same gruff voice. “Just leave me alone—”

Akira bends down slightly, squinting at the man who’s avidly attempting to pull down his hood even more.

Squirming in his seat, “Young man, you are being extremely rude and hostile and I don’t appreciate—”

Akira reaches forward to grab his hood and forces it back, allowing Akechi Goro’s hair to flow down on his shoulders.

They all stilled, frozen in shock. Eyes widened, mouths openly gaping. Only Akira’s expression remained unchanged; cool and filled with disdain.

Ryuji is the first to speak. “I really hope I didn’t just piss myself.”

“What—” Ann splutters. “What are you—why the hell—I just—”

Makoto’s hand are alternating between making a numbered list with her fingers and gesticulating wildly. “So you’re in a gymnastics competition, and you’re actively hiding from us, and you have a camera which is weird at best, why are you—”

“I truly want to give you the benefit of the doubt here, Akechi-kun,” Haru cuts in. “But I’m kind of struggling to find—”

“Bro, like, a camera? You weren’t even trying to hide how weird this—”

“I know a thing or two about creeps and—”

“Oh, would you all give it a rest, you damn dolts!” Akechi snaps. “Your insistent cheering from earlier is already giving me a migraine.”

Akira narrows his eyes. “You don’t get to talk to them like that.”

“I just don’t understand, Akechi,” Makoto’s brows furrows. “You could have avoided being caught if you had just moved out of the way before sounding the alarm bells through Akira’s head.”

Leaning back into his chair, Akechi shoots her an incredulous look. “I wasn’t going to do that.”

“Why not?” Ann asks. “Do you really just love pissing us off?”

“No, I didn’t even know you clowns were beside me until it was too late,” he shoots a glare somewhere down towards the mats. “I couldn’t have moved this camera because…”

Everyone leans forward, awaiting his response as Akechi trails off. He blinks slowly.

“Hello?” Ryuji asks, incredulous. “What the hell was that? Why’d you stop talking?”

“You know what?” He stands abruptly, words flying out of his mouth. “I don’t need to answer any of your questions like some kind of interrogation,” shoving his arms through his jacket. “I know my rights,” he plucks the camera off of the tripod and closes its legs with a snap. “I’m a detective.”

With a dignified tilt of his head, he turns to leave only for Akira to cut him off by placing a foot on the stadium chair. “Nice try.”

“Move,” Akechi spits through gritted teeth.

“Nope.”

“Not before you tell us why you were recording Yoshizawa-chan,” Haru smiles.

Ann points at Akechi like she’s about to challenge him to a duel. “We care about her too much to let this go, so fess up!”

Rubbing his temples, “You don’t even know what you’re saying.”

“Then explain yourself!” Makoto says.

“No.”

“Hold on, guys.”

Everyone turns to Ryuji, who’s squinting at Akechi. “We got these dope tickets from Yoshizawa, right?”

“Yeah?”

“So how did this geezer get his hands on his?”

Akira’s eyes twinkle. “Now that’s a fantastic question.”

“I’m sure you all had an absolute grandiose time finding a brand new way to annoy me,” Akechi drawls. “But you aren’t going to get a single word out of—”

“Goro!”

They all turn to the sound of a familiar voice, only to blink when Yoshizawa Sumire comes running towards them, dressed out of her leotard and into her black tracksuit.

Akechi’s eyes widen, and he takes a step back. “No, go away Sumire. I’ll—I’ll meet you downstairs—”

“Yeah, right! That’s what we’ve been doing, but then you didn’t show up. You got me worried! Thought the crowd ate you up.” Sumire rolls her eyes, before smiling. “Hello, senpais!” Bowing deeply, “Thank you for coming. It means a lot to us.”

Slowly, they all turn to stare at Akechi, who’s expression is contorting in a strange way—his lips are pursed, and his arms are crossed in a defensive manner.

“Um…” Ann blunders. “Yup.”

“It was our pleasure,” Akira covers for her, shoving his hand in his pocket. “Congrats on the win.”

Sumire lights up. “Thank you! Speaking of—” she turns to Akechi, hands on her hips. “Tell me you didn’t forget to record me this time. And please tell me I’m in frame. Last time was a mess.”

Akechi gives her a dirty look but nods all the same. “Of course I did, who do you think I am?”

“Hurray!” she claps her hands together. “Funny story, actually. At my last competition, I asked Goro to film me—”

“Sumire,” he hisses at her, but she ignores him.

“But people kept moving the camera and messing it all up! It was a miracle that I had one more competition before the finals came up—I seriously need that footage for practice.”

She laughs, light and trill; a perfect juxtaposition to Akechi’s dark, defeated expression.

“Okay,” Ryuji shakes his head. “What the fuck is going on?”

“What Ryuji is actually means to ask,” Makoto averts. “Are you two…”

“Friends?” Akira finishes. His eyes flicker between the two of them like he’s working out an incredibly difficult equation. “Are you two friends?”

“I don’t have friends,” Akechi insists, the same time Sumire beams, “We’re best friends!”

A beat passes.

“Would you all stop staring at me?” Akechi snaps, and they all immediately look away, but it was too late. They’ve finally nailed his expression, one so strange to see on him that it took much longer than it needed to:

Akechi Goro is embarassed.

“Wow,” Haru whispers.

Sumire peers down at her watch and yelps. “Shoot, it’s that late? Sorry, everyone, we have to leave. Goro treats me whenever I get that first place.”

“Does he now?” Akira remarks innocently. Akechi’s glare can wither flowers.

He drops his foot, allowing Akechi to stride past him a little too quick to be nonchalant.

“Oh, don’t forget this.” Akira swoops down to pick up the forgotten, handing it to Akechi. When their hands touch, he whispers, “Besties, huh?”

“I’ll fucking end you.”

“Third time’s the charm.”

Yanking his hand away, Akechi stalks off. Sumire sighs dramatically.

“Such a drama queen! But I should leave, too.” She bows once more. “Thank you again.”

“No…problem…” Makoto trails off when Sumire runs to Akechi’s side, casually linking arms with him.

Silence encompasses the group.

“That’s weird, right?” Ryuji finally asks. “Like, I’m not wrong for thinking that was really fucking weird, right?”

“Yeah, that was weird,” Makoto confirms.

“Really?” Akira muses. “I can kind of see it.”

Ann rubs her temples. “Whatever. That whole thing plus my dehydration just gave me the world’s biggest headache.”

“Ryuji, don’t you need to go to the bathroom?” Haru reminds him kindly.

“Huh? Oh. I don’t know, I think I’ve might have just moved past it.”

“Gross.”

“Shut up, Takamaki. Let’s leave, I hate it here.”

“Because you peed yourself?”

“I did not.”

—

“I hate you.”

Sumire doesn’t look up from her slice of carrot cake. “No, you don’t.”

Their usual cafe was near empty in thanks to the fact that it’s a Tuesday evening and barely anyone knows this place exists—only a barista is inside with them, trying his best to text on his phone in secrecy and failing miserably. She can feel his glare at her from across the table, though there’s no heat behind it. (There hasn’t been heat behind it for a long time.)

“No,” Akechi agrees. “I don’t.”

She glances up at him. He hasn’t touched his tart yet. “But you’re upset with me.”

His brows scrunch slightly as he rolls his answer around his head. This was to be expected.

“No,” he decides. “I’m not upset, either. But I honestly cannot for the life of me figure out why you would do that. I hate them, Sumire, and you know that.” Picking up his fork, he prods at his fruit tart absentmindedly. “You’re a good person, even if you aren’t nice—”

“Only to you I’m not.”

“—so you won’t do anything that would disconcert me in a legitimate way on purpose.”

Her shoulders tense. “Did it disconcert you?”

“It unsettled me, sure. But only because I knew where their tickets came from, and it certainly didn’t come from Takamaki’s profound interest in gymnastics.”

“Unsettled you?”

Akechi gives her an exasperated look. “You’re going to make me say it?”

“How about a deal?” she offers, smiling ever so lightly. “You say it out loud and I’ll tell you why I did it.”

Sighing, he heavily leans back into his chair. “I despise the idea of them seeing me… like that.”

“Like a human being?”

“Like I’m weak,” he corrects.

“Seeing you in a normal setting,” she settles. “With a friend?”

“You’re pushing it.”

Her smile widens. An odd setting is more accurate. It’s only in a gymnastics setting that she can really get a reaction out of him—rarely does he act the way he did. It’s his own brand of sweet that’s really grown on her.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” she starts, setting down her fork. “But I don’t agree with what you said.”

“Shocker. Which part?”

“About you hating them.”

When she doesn’t continue, he kicks her shin lightly. “Don’t be cryptid.” Which is his way of saying talk to me.

Sumire kicks him back. “I’m not! I’m just thinking.”

She chooses her words with care. “You said something, a while ago,” she says slowly. “Like way, way back. It was kind of offhand, and you probably said it as a way to prove how much you hated them or something. But you mentioned that Akira—and the rest of his lovely friends—were the first people to really treat you like…a person.”

Akechi blinks, and she feels her eyes soften. Of course he thought (or hoped) that she’d forgotten a detail like that.

“And yes, lots of stuff happened in between,” she continues. “Lots and lots of stuff. Stuff I’ll probably never know about. But…I owe them, I think.” Sumire shrugs. “They took care of you before I could have. So I was worried that it bugged you when you lost touch with them.”

Akechi was quiet for a moment before he knits his brows together. “And that led you to try and cupid me with them during your semi-final?”

“When you say it like that—”

“‘Losing touch’ is very different from what actually happened,” he cuts off, leaning forward. “And just because they didn’t treat me like a famous asshole from television absolutely did not create some kind of fostered kinship.”

Akechi’s eyes never soften, never lose focus, but occasionally they can lose some of their steel. Warmth engulfs her as she watches it happen now. “For the record, no. It doesn’t bother me,” he hesitates. “Not…not anymore.”

Just as quick as it arrived, the moment passes. Straightening up, “And you? Does it bug you?”

She blinks. “What does?”

“That I make for a lackluster cheerleader.”

Sumire laughs, too loud for the near-empty cafe. Impossible. He may be a mess with words, would rather pull out his own teeth than confess vulnerability, but he’s shown up to every single one of her competition and sat through the entire thing. From warm-ups to the awards ceremony, it’s undoubtedly a grueling time to spend his day, and as much as he loves to complain about it, whenever she looks up from the mat, he’s always there in the exact same spot without fail.

She snags a strawberry off of his tart, making him click his tongue harmlessly at her.

“You’re more than enough.”

#akesumi #akiryu #pegoryu #number one fan #fic tag #mine #persona 5 #persona 5 royal #im still on my akesumi bullshit #fanfic

[tireddoodless]

yo

So guys um i need YouTube videos ideas i have an art channel I might do more things but that’s what i do for now

it’s digital art since i dont have a tripod

#art #digital art #youtube #art youtube #art youtuber #art channel

[gerogekin]

Choosing the Right Camera for You: Get Started Making Pro Quality Videos

What Kind Of Cam Should I Buy?

For many years, many individuals have actually asked me what kind of electronic camera must they purchase. It's never ever the very same answer for everyone. It truly depends on a variety of elements. I remained in their footwear previously, so I know what it's like to desire a person to aim me in the appropriate instructions. This post is for any individual jumping into the globe of video production, either skillfully or as a hobby as well as every little thing in between. It's for the blog owner podcast host, the movie college trainee and also aspiring filmmaker who has a certain video clip making requirement in mind. If any one of the adhering to summaries listed below seem like you, then keep reading.

- The Blog owner Podcast host:

Are you a blog writer or a video clip podcast host needing to up your video clip quality game? You don't necessarily require a ThePointandShootCamera , rather you simply need a camera that will certainly aid you look great.

- The Movie Institution or Anti-Film College pupil:

Perhaps you're appearing of movie college or a movie and video program frustrated that all you discovered was theory. So currently you're ready to get out there as well as begin shooting, yet you need to start your gear collection.

- The Hopeful Pro Filmmaker or Video Manufacturer:

You intend to start getting paid to make videos. Nonetheless, you need the right tools to put your photo and noise above all the competition around.

Let's get to the key tool: The Electronic camera.

Not All Video Cameras are Created Equal.

When a camera producer sets out to develop an electronic camera, there is a clear purpose as well as customer in mind. You might be assuming, "A video camera is a camera right?" Not actually. Basically, there are 4 general different classifications of camera readily available.

Consumer Cameras

Prosumer Camcorders

DSLRs

Huge Sensing Unit Video Cameras

When you're beginning making video clips and also you could not have that much experience under your belt, so it's tough to understand whch group of video camera will collection you. It's tough to recognize what kind of electronic camera succeeds at which certain purpose or which camera is appropriate to use under which condition. It's hard to know why you would also wish to obtain one style of electronic camera verses an additional?

The Right Device for the Right Work.

In one sense, you can virtually make use of any kind of cam for any type of and all circumstances. Nonetheless, that doesn't indicate that you should. For instance, if you were a residence painter and also you were worked with to paint the outside of a significant mansion. You wouldn't merely utilize a little brush to repaint the entire house. You would certainly utilize rollers or some sort of spraying device. The same relates to the globe of video cameras. Video clip and filmmakers find themselves needing to shoot in numerous kinds of circumstances. Just know that there are reasons that specific cams have been created with particular requirements. Cam suppliers typically make electronic cameras based on individual responses and usual video clip capturing situations. This likewise does not suggest you must set out to buy 3 or 4 electronic cameras. In reality, you probably can only pay for one video camera and also you only desire one video camera anyhow.

One thing is for sure, all of it starts with the electronic camera. It's the main device for video as well as filmmaking. Video and also filmmaking is an aesthetic tool primarily. There are many selections when it comes to video cameras. New designs of video cameras are always appearing every couple of months. The price varieties can vary vastly. The truth is, every video camera has its staminas and weak points.

If you're simply beginning you might not know what are the strong or powerlessness of each kind of video camera. A good friend may have informed you "Hey you HAVE to get a DSLR to shoot your video clips." Your friend might not have described what the downsides are. Worse yet if you mostly require to create numerous hour-long internet lectures, the last thing you need is the DSLR. The extremely advised DSLR might wind up being the entirely incorrect tool for your demands.

A manufacturer was informing me they had a shoot that needed a video camera that might make spectacular images, yet they additionally had to shoot all day where they 'd capture lots of video footage. What they required was a big sensor camcorder that could tape for long periods of time. The producer informed me the videographer they collaborated with brought a camera that has infamously big video clip data sizes and brief record times. It reduced them down to off load tons of video onto a laptop computer, constantly placing a stop to their capturing schedule. On top of that the video camera is an ergonomic nightmare. Which additionally slowed the shooter down when it concerned constantly transforming setups.The electronic camera carried out in completion produce stunning photos, yet at the cost of mishandling.

I've been in this situation as well as the person who brought the wrong cam for the task. It not just cost me time, cash and energy, it negatively impacted the entire shoot experience and also the connection with the customer. My factor is that there IS really something as having the right device for the appropriate job. Besides getting experience, just how else can you make informed choices about an approaching video camera acquisition?

How do you figure out what sort of cam you need?

This is my opinion on what one needs to think about.

Recognize what you mostly shoot. What do you need the cam for?

Identify your spending plan. Anticipate extra costs for media as well as various other accessories.

Choose the very best video camera that meets as a number of your requirements as feasible.

Choose the right audio option based upon your cam choice. It might be a combination of mic plus a recorder or a mixer unit.

Pick the ideal tripod based on your electronic camera option. The weight of your video camera dictates the size of your tripod.

Pick lighting if you require it. This is mainly based on your shooting needs.

Beginning in this order will help you narrow down the camera and all needed additional tools. Again, it all beginnings with your choice of cam. After that the audio/mics, tripod as well as to some extent the lights will be informed by your choice of cam.

Offered the nature of innovation as well as brand-new items revitalizing yearly, I recommend, whatever video camera you decide upon, you need to mean to utilize it for at the very least 2 years or more.

Likewise you need to establish what is a want verses a demand. Getting electronic devices is emotional. Discern the emotional wants versus actual needs as well as meet halfway. You do not wish to be stuck with a camera that just meets your demands yet not a future need.

Example 1: You obtain a low-cost camcorder for firing your youngsters soccer games yet your goal is to make beautiful cinematic movies to participate in movie festivals in the future. The inexpensive camcorder helps your needs yet after that you do not have the right electronic camera to bring your objectives right into fulfillment.

Instance 2: The opposite of instance one. You obtain an elegant DSLR, but you really require a pocket video camera. Next thing you recognize, you're dropping additional money on extra lenses as well as various other accessories just to obtain the DSLR to fire video clips. If you initially got the camera, you 'd be ready to start flashing of package.

Currently let's obtain even more certain about getting going making professional high quality videos.

Tips for Getting Going:

Learn About the Craft of Video Making

Gain experience, whether it's shooting video or editing and enhancing.

Discover the operations of shooting video, consuming footage, editing and enhancing as well as exporting the last video.

Find out the electronic camera inside out till it's force of habit to you. When you grasp one cameras' controls and also food selection design, it'll be simpler to discover the rest. As an example, just how to control light by adjusting the ISO or Gain, Aperture, or Shutter Rate.

"ABSE" Constantly Be Shooting and also Editing and enhancing. Get in an operations groove. Do it for fun.

Discover the art of narration. This mostly comes from modifying. If you get better at editing you get better at capturing.

Discover the language: Aperture, Direct Exposure, Shutter Speed, Zebras, ISO or Gain.

Research study video clips, films as well as commercials. The even more you see and dissect the more you recognize regarding lights capturing as well as modifying.

Obtain a video camera as well as just begin making videos. If the phone is all you have that's fine as well. The cellular phone is showing to be an excellent developing device.

Getting Started as a Specialist Video Maker.

Build your Demonstration Reel ASAP

Aim for enjoyable as well as aim for the love of it. Try not to consider generating income with it in the beginning. Get really proficient at the craft where capturing as well as establishing lights for different scenarios comes to be second nature.

Clients are more important than gear. Find clients as well as volunteer to do complimentary help companies and also creates you believe in.

Simply begin someplace. That's the trick. Cams are budget-friendly and it's the primary tool for the craft so start there. If you wish to do it professionally, you have to grab a cam and also discover the process. No justifications.

Obtain a few other needs like tripods, added batteries, a slider, to enhance the general quality.

Most Significantly: Value the possibility to make any kind of video clip. That admiration will bring about a higher happiness and sense of fulfillment. This ends up being particularly important when you enter into video clip manufacturing professionally.

The Verdict: Simply Get Started

Lastly, don't obtain overloaded or over believe it. Don't obtain overtaken the mindset of "I'll never need a cam due to the fact that sooner or later I simply want to route, so I'll simply employ a camera man." Truthfully with YouTube being the second largest internet search engine in the world, learning to make your very own video clip will be a preferable ability for quite a while. Simply figure out that you will start making video clips, pick an electronic camera and go for it.

#Point and Shoot Camera under $200

[melodymaria]

Tell me what you think about this kind of time lapse layout, I used my DSLR for this, which was a pain in the ass to LISTEN TO because every five seconds it just goes “click”, and I sat there for a two or three hours. But it does look pretty nice with the angles and the focal blur 🌞 Let me know what you think, and maybe I’ll try to do more of these? As you can see with your eyeballs this is @trumanblack, all done in graphite pencils, and cheap paper as usual. Yo my hair is short as hell in this, how much has my hair grown in the last few months, do I have super hair cool nice tight dope. I have a strong urge to bleach all of my hair to death, but I won’t. Yet. I need to get a new tripod for my phone and camera, because the one I’m using is squeakier than a horror movie door, and I’m very close to throwing it out the window on the other side of the building, because I don’t wanna accidentally hit one of the cats if they’re on the veranda. ALSO I ordered a Danger Days Gerard Way pop vinyl from Germany or something, so I’m excited about that. Hmu if you have any Revenge era pop vinyls for sale, I’d like to complete my collection 😌 #matty #mattyhealy #the1975 #1975 #trumanblack #drawing #drawings #art #artwork #sketch #pencildrawing #artist #sketching #portrait #portraitdrawing https://www.instagram.com/p/CF43XkMB_RB/?igshid=gjoy8y48izol

#matty #mattyhealy #the1975 #1975 #trumanblack #drawing #drawings #art #artwork #sketch #pencildrawing #artist #sketching #portrait #portraitdrawing

[iamcinema]

IAC Reviews #010: Blood Lake (1987) [Retrospective #2]

"...I heard the voice of the fourth beast say, Come and see. And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him...“

Over the years, I’ve been scowering the Internet trying to find the worst of the worst when it comes to horror movies. I guess you can call me a glutton for punishment in that regard since some movies need to be seen to be believed, rather than looked into as an example of what bad filmmaking looks like. Whether it’s a problem with the acting, the writing, the technical specs, or all of the above, you know you’re in for a good [or horrible] time if it checks one or more of those boxes. When it comes to bad horror movie lists, not just shot on video ones, one film in particular seems to rule them all as it’s hailed as one of the worst movies of all time, if not the worst horror film ever made. This time around, I’m making an ill-fated return to the Oklahoma to talk about Tim Boggs’ lone directorial credit, Blood Lake.

________________________________________

Blood Lake tells the story about a group of friends who are being stalked by a mad man while on a weekend getaway trip at the lake. It’s not the most original concept out there, but hey, what else is new? It’s interesting that this is Boggs’ only attempt at being a filmmaker and the rest of his credits are attributed to being part of the sound department for notable films and shows like Lost Highway, Tales From the Crypt, Xena: Warrior Princess, The Sopranos, Breaking Bad, and Legion. That’s a hell of a resume, but that’s not what we’re here to really discuss.

I heard about the notority of this for years, and I decided to take the plunge with it nearly five years ago where I live reviewed it for Under the Morgue. Needless to say, I didn’t have fun with it and I don’t think I ever ripped into a film that hard up until that point. With the anniversary date of that review coming up, I thought it would be fair to do a retrospect on this to see if it really lives up to how genuinely atrocious I thought it was all those years ago.

Blood Lake in One Gif:

I think I need to lay down for this one. Do you know that feeling of nostalgia you get when you see, hear, or smell something that really takes you back to a better time? Well, whatever the antithisis to that is would describe the seething rage and horror I felt re-watching this.

________________________________________

While it’s true that some movies need to be witnessed to truly understand how bad they are, it’s also fair to say that some things shouldn’t be known by mere mortals - and this absolutely applies to films like Ax’Em and Blood Lake. They’re as cut-and-dry and boring as they are in premise, and a train wreck of a travesty in execution at that.

The quality from a technical standpoint is pretty damn atrocious, particularly during some of the nighttime shots since it can be hard to tell what’s going on and it feels like you’re squinting the whole time trying to tell what you’re looking at. The sound is just as bad, though sometimes it fairs better than the visuals, even if a good chunk of the time you can’t tell what the hell anyone is saying because they’re either too far from the mic to be picked up or it’s a dialogue problem with everyone mumbling, talking over each other, or fumbling over their lines. IMDB says the sound was shot with a single shotgun microphone, and yeah...it kind of shows.

C’mon. Look at this and tell me you can figure out what the fuck all is going on.

The writing feels almost non-existent as Boggs encouraged the actors to paraphrase the dialogue in their own words to I guess make it feel more natural. However, with how clumsy things are, it’s hard to really tell how much was ad-libbed or done by the actors themselves. The total direction and set-up with the pacing is absolute garbage and some of the worst I’ve ever seen, as it’s padded out with gratuitously long shots of them doing things like “extreme” sports on the water or a scene of them drinking at a table that goes on for close to ten minutes. It feels like the director left the camera on a tripod and accidentally filmed their lunch break. People have said this feels like a glorified home movie, and I get why. I’ve ripped on Las Vegas Bloodbath for how bad the filler was during its third act; as well as the opening dance sequences and the yo mama jokes in the opening of Ax’Em for needlessly dragging things out, or even the flashback sequences in Nick Millard’s films - even if they don’t exist within the canon of the story. Hell, Sledgehammer does this too by slowing down scenes in order to pad it out to a 60 minute runtime after being told it was too short.

When it comes to the characters, they aren’t anything special and are mostly forgettable. With this camp, I designated them to one of two sides of the field; boring and awful. All of them I’ve mostly shoved over on the boring side, as they never really do anything noteworthy or special, so I wouldn’t be able to tell you their names off the top of my head for the most part. However, some of the guys do teeter on being awful and annoying as hell, but one character in particular stayed on the shit teir side of the spectrum from start to finish - which would be Tony.

Oh, god. Tony....

This guy right here. This motherfucker made watching this the first time around feel like a total chore. But the second time around, and willingly so, it was like pulling teeth to get me to finish.

I don’t mind weird, perverted, sleazy dickheads who show up now and again, but Tony is a special case because his entire shtick is being a weird creep to the point of giving off rapey vibes with the other guys over how his goal at the end of the weekend is to conquer some girl he goes to school with. Bro, you’re like twelve, shut the fuck up. It’s beyond cringe. It’s insufferable, and prior to this, I said over on Under the Morgue that Alan from Return to Sleepaway Camp was the most unsympathetic “protagonist” I had ever seen. But now, compared to him and the majority of the characters from Await Further Instructions, I don’t know who is the most grating to sit through - and I spent most of my time on that review talking about how the zero level of characterization makes it so hard to watch. In that review, I said I can appreciate a scummy character if they have any sort of secondary personality trait that makes you love to hate them, or at least makes them tolerable. With Tony, he’s just an annoying, pervy brat who I guess is about as comedic and charming as a trench foot infection.

It’s pretty damn rare that I see a movie where I root for the villain(s) from start to finish because I can’t stand the majority, if not all of the characters. So, having to recall how many times I wished Tony would have drowned within the first fifteen minutes or had a joint stubbed out in his damn eye has proved to be more enjoyable than the entirety of this shit show, since the only tail he should have been chasing was the tailpipe of the damn car he arrived in. I was honestly surprised we didn’t get any Summer Camp Nightmare moments given how much of a creep the twerp is, and I still am now.

The fact that this is called a slasher film feels like a cruel joke, since after the opening kill, the next murder doesn’t happen until close to the fifty minute mark in an 82 minute movie (78 minutes if you get rid of the credits). Plus, because of the abysmal quality, you can’t even see them clear enough to tell what’s happening. It’s so frustrating to feel like you’d get more out of the death scenes by closing your eyes the whole time. It’s up there with Ax’Em in terms of quality and how much it feels like they cheat you, which makes me wonder why bother at all if it’s possible you can’t even see what’s going on when you were editing the damn thing?

________________________________________ 

So, here we are at the dreaded moment where I close this off with how I’d rate this. Is it as bad as I remember it being? Yes, if not more so. I had to pause and walk away from it for a bit to cool off and do something else because it was so tedious sit through.

It just goes on, and on, and on, which was only made worse by obnoxious characters that were a total hassle to put up with who could have been reduced to Douchebag #1, Generic Girl #2, and Rattail Motherfucker #1 based on how little they actually did to make me want to remember their names - and the ones who did were the most insufferable of the lot that I couldn’t forget them even if I wanted to. There’s little to no actual blood and gore, and with the very little there was, it was completely wasted in scenes that you can’t see clearly which is a damn shame because one of the kills could have had a decent reveal if it was shot better.

If I had to say just one good thing about the film to be generous, not counting that it had some kind of a reachable end, it was the mediocre soundtrack supplied by the band Voyager. It’s not good at all, but hey, if you like cheesy 80s horror soundtracks, there’s that going for it...I guess. With all that being said, I never want to see this disaster ever again. I’m trying to wrap my head around how people genuinely like this, even in a so bad it’s good type of way, and I just don’t get it. This, for me, is arguably one of the worst horror movies I’ve ever seen, and probably ever will.

RATING: 0.5/10

#blood lake #sov #sov horror #shot on video #shot on video horror #80's horror #80s horror #horror movie #horror movies #horror film #slasher #film #horror #movie review #film review #iac reviews