#thanks for letting me let some frogs out of my brain

[seonghwaddict]

ateez’s favourite positions — masterlist

requested by anon. genre. hc, smut rating. mature. warnings. sexual content mdni, various sex positions, nicknames n stuff. wc. 768.

[ lilo’s notes . . . ] thank you for requesting~ i had to do research for this and like… why are there so many names for the same positions??? and some of these are such weird obscure names i genuinely stared at my screen so blankly cuz who came up with these- not only that but some of the positions i saw looked SO UNCOMFORTABLE??? anyways, moving on and if you aren’t familiar with these position… i suggest looking them up because i will NOTTTTT be providing any links 😁

hongjoong

face sitting. when he says sit on his face he means sit on it. he likes how his mouths drives you wild and how you have to stop yourself from just grinding on his face—he’d lift you for like two seconds to encourage you to do just that. and you see that couch in his studio? yeah i’m not gonna elaborate.

“baby, sit.”

seonghwa

missionary. when he’s not torturing you with his tongue, he likes to fuck you deep and slow. missionary may sound very plain, but occasionally he’ll throw in a blindfold or some restraints. almost if the time, though, he wants it to be just you and him. he likes this position so he can see your face clearly, watching the way you unravel with each frustratingly slow grind of his hips.

“hm, look at you… so pretty and all for me.”

yunho

backseat driver. he’s not very picky about positions, but he does like having you in his lap while he’s gaming. whether it’s him ending a game badly and needing relief right there or you wanting to tease and distract him, he will always revel in the subtle arch of your back and bounce of your tits, having to keep both you and himself quiet when he’s on a call and playing with his friends.

“keep it down, yeah? we don’t want everyone to hear you like this, now do we?”

yeosang

leap frog. he’s an ass guy idc what ANYONE says. if you’re telling me he won’t stare at the way your ass bounces against pelvis, you’re dead wrong. he likes to reach over and give your clit some attention too. yeosang also leans down to kiss your back sweetly while also fucking you like his life depends on it. guys i am DEEP in yeosang brain rot rn if i continue i fear i won’t be able to stop.

“get your face out of that pillow, pretty girl. let me hear you.”

san

spooning. i think that, yes, occasionally he’d like to be rough, but i will NEVER back down from my soft dom!san agenda. in this position, he’s able to hold you and keep you warm and make you feel good all over. the technicalities(?) of spooning you feels good for the two of you—your thighs pressed together making your walls hug him tighter. this is also a good position for him to gently fuck you to sleep at the end of the day. also: comforting kisses all over your shoulders and the back of your neck… he just wants to make you feel nice and comfortable and keep you safe in his arms :(

“just relax, baby… you know i’ll take care of you.”

mingi

tabletop. if no one’s around, he’ll risk taking you right on the kitchen counter. if that’s not possible, he’ll lick the bedroom door and sweep any items off his desk and take you there. there’s something about seeing you say somewhere and being the one standing between your legs and coaxing orgasm after orgasm out you that makes his insides feel all hot and tingly. this also give the two of you good access to kiss each other all over your torsos.

“i’ve got you, doll, just give me one more, i know you can do it.”

wooyoung

ballet dancer. specifically against a wall, or door, or window, or- you get the point. any vertical surface will do. one hand on your waist or breast or neck and the other hitching your thigh around his hips. sometimes he’ll be fucking you so well, your nails dig into the skin of his shoulders or chest—he really likes that.

“does that feel good, jagi? yeah? i’ll keep doing that then, but make sure i can hear those pretty sounds, hm?”

jongho

cowgirl. don’t be fooled, though you may be on top, he’s still in control. he lets you fuck yourself on his dick for a bit and when you close, he’ll flip you over so quickly you get whiplash. but that’s on days where he’s feeling like a menace. other than that, he does actually love the sight of you on top of him, claiming him as yours. he doesn’t have a preference for sitting or laying down, he’s perfectly happy as long he can see your fucked out and desperate face.

“there you go… you take me so well…”

　　[ networks ... ] @cromernet @wonderlandnet

　　[ perm taglist — open ... ] @ad0rechuu @sankatchu @mlink64 @yeosangsbb @seonghwasbbgirl @likexaxdaydream @dreamingofyeo

#cromernet #wonderlandnet #ateez x reader #ateez #ateez headcanons #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong headcanons #seonghwa headcanons #seonghwa x reader #yunho headcanons #yunho x reader #yeosang headcanons #yeosang x reader #san headcanons #san x reader #mingi headcannon #mingi x reader #wooyoung headcanons #wooyoung x reader #jongho headcanons #jongho x reader #ateez smut

[hedgehog-moss]

Loved your mentioning of learning poetry by heart: this is something I haven’t done since school! What are some of your favs that you’d suggest to ease my brain back into it?

(Française ici donc les options 🇫🇷 autant que anglais sont welcome :) merci!)

Hi :) You can look at the poem tag of my quote blog if you want—some of the ones I've learnt by heart (or excerpts from them) include this one by Sara Teasdale - Nanao Sakaki - Velimir Khlebnikov - Wallace Stevens - Rabindranath Tagore - Archibald Macleish - Howard Nemerov - and these paragraphs by Henri Peña-Ruiz which I consider prose poetry... My favourite French verses (from Corneille, Aragon, Anna de Noailles, Hugo, Valéry...) are all alexandrines and I find it to be the easiest type of verse to remember, as the structure is so rigorous and consistent. I sometimes translate English poems into alexandrines (like this one) to make them easier to learn in this more familiar form—I think even after all this time English prosody still feels foreign to me; the patterns of sound and rhythm in French are more deeply embedded in my brain so it can more easily predict what comes next...

Re: easing your brain into it, I guess that depends on your style of learning? For me the best way to learn a text is to spend time with it in written form, be it by translating it, or by writing it down by hand (slowly) and then (sometimes) keeping it for a while in a place where I often stand idle, like taped to my microwave so I re-read it as I wait 1 minute for something to heat up.

One thing I like about learning poems is that it's a costless, always-accessible way to get a sense of personal accomplishment. Beyond that, I've got three categories of poems I like to learn for different reasons—I'll go into some detail in case it can help you figure out what you're after :)

1. Classic poetry, because it's just fun to have little snippets of ancient tragedies or epic Victor Hugo poems living at the back of your mind and accompanying you through your own everyday tragedies—as an overdramatic person who tends to feel devastated or exasperated over tiny stuff, it helps me to take some distance from my feelings. Like if I spill a bucket of manure on my boots and my first reaction is rage and despair and my second thought is a couple of verses by Euripides where Iphigenia bemoans her relentless fate, it's a way to make fun of (and get over) myself.

My grandmother did this a lot, she knew so many poems by heart and often used them ironically. If I went whining to her when I was little she'd recite to me the last few verses of Alfred de Vigny's La Mort du Loup (it sounds better in the original but):

[...] With all your being you must strive To that highest degree of stoic pride [...] Weeping or praying—all this is in vain. You must instead shoulder your long and heavy task In the way that Destiny has seen fit to ask Then suffer and die without complaint.

(Let me tell you, that's just what a five-year-old wants to hear after scratching her knee at the park) But really I admired this treasury of poetry she carried within her, especially as she only went to school until age 14 and came upon most of it thanks to her own curiosity; as well as the way she used it playfully in everyday life, using dramatic classical verse to de-dramatise minor annoyances.

2. Nature poems are great in the opposite way, to magnify minor positive things :) Like seeing a fox and having a few lines by Mary Oliver come to mind, seeing a frog and thinking of that Basho haiku... I recently discovered Jean-Michel Maulpoix and I also love his nature poems, like 'The recovery of blue after a downpour', the way he describes snow melting in the spring, or golden-blue evenings:

[Snow] takes some time to leave, but delicately. She doesn’t insist, hardly persists, never roots… She gives way. No one else dies so merrily With such good humour Unmatched is her disdain for eternity…

L’azur, certains soirs, a des soins de vieil or. Le paysage est une icône. Il semble qu’au soleil couchant, le ciel qui se craquelle se reprenne un instant à croire à son bleu.

3. And then there are the poems that proudly serve no purpose. <3 I mean beyond distilling language in a beautiful way. No deep meaning—or no meaning at all, e.g. surrealist poetry. I learnt this passage from Les Champs magnétiques back in middle school:

La fenêtre creusée dans notre chair s'ouvre sur notre cœur. On y voit un immense lac où viennent se poser à midi des libellules mordorées et odorantes comme des pivoines. Quel est ce grand arbre où les animaux vont se regarder ? Il y a des siècles que nous lui versons à boire. . . Prisonniers des gouttes d'eau, nous ne sommes que des animaux perpétuels. . . Nous ne savons plus rien des astres morts ; nous regardons les visages. . . Quelquefois, le vent nous entoure de ses grandes mains froides et nous attache aux arbres découpés par le soleil.

—and I've often recited it to myself just to enjoy these gratuitously nice sentences that aren't here to deliver information. Like Kay Ryan said, "Poetry makes nothing happen. That's the relief of it." It's a nice break, a way to remember that communicating isn't all language is for; beyond the social dimension there's also an intimate one that relies on our own aesthetic sensitivity. Most of the time we look through language, to access ideas, meanwhile enjoying poetry means looking at language, for a change, appreciating it for itself.

I just realised I'm paraphrasing John Brehm here—in The Poetry of Impermanence he wrote something that can be read as an ode to learning things by heart:

When you read lines that seem especially lit up—that move or intrigue you in some way, or that are simply pleasing or even dazzling—don’t focus on being able to formulate a statement about what they might mean, as if you might be called upon to explain the poem, to yourself or to someone else. Just linger with those poems or passages that resonate with you. . . Rest your mind on them; let them live inside you.

#ask #poetry

[joi-me-hoi-me-noi]

Hi, I was wondering if you could do a Nanami x Reader who is like Tiana (from Disney's Princess and the Frog)? I love JJK/Disney and the ship is NanamixTiana has been living in my brain rent-free.

A/n: NGL I LOVEEEEE EVERYTHING ABOUT THAT SHIP BRO!! TIANA IS SUCH A QUEEN!! AND WITH NANAMI!??? power couple... POWER COUPLE!! I ALSO LOVE THE MOVIE SO MUCH AND I USED THE ENDING AS A REFERENCE TO TIANA! but I got you boookie <3

NANAMI x READER

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

It was Satoru's idea to invite him out to dinner since one of his best friends finally got the restaurant of their dreams.

"Come on Nanami. It'll be fun."

Kento, of course, is hesitant to go with him since Satoru's idea of 'fun' was different than his. Reluctantly, he entered the restaurant with his coworker's arm around his shoulder, leading him inside. There was live performance on stage while they were getting settled in their reserved seats. A beautiful person walks onto the stage, singing and dancing to the rhythm.

"That's them, right there."

Gojo tilts his glass towards the person on stage. They were absolutely stunning and had an amazing voice. Their stage performance was phenomenal.

"They're single."

Gojo whispers in his ear before leaning away and getting a stern look from Kento.

"Just saying." Gojo continues to sip on his drink, enjoying the show.

Soon the performance ended, and the lights come on. The band goes back to their normal hype jazz routine, and everyone resumes their conversations.

"Hey Satoru." He stands from his seat immediately, accepting the hug from the person.

"Hello Y/n, thank you for the invite."

Their e/c eyes shift to Kento, and he opens his mouth to speak.

"Good afternoon, Y/n. I would also like to tell you how much I appreciated the invite. I-I'm Nanami Kento."

Y/n walks over and gives him a hug as well.

"It's so nice to meet you, I hope you both enjoyed the performance, and your meal is on me. I did invite you to come here after all."

"I have money to spend Y/n, please, let us pay for our meals."

They laugh, lightly patting Satoru's shoulder and shaking their head.

"You have such a way with words, Satoru." A waiter approaches, apologizes for interrupting and whispers in Y/n's ear.

"Anyways, sit down and enjoy yourselves. I have something to deal with in the kitchen."

A sly wink is sent toward the two men over their shoulder as they walk into the kitchen area.

"I've never heard you stutter before Kento. You must really like them."

He simply just looks over at his friend and sips his water.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

The dinner was perfect, everything was delicious, and it was becoming late. People were starting to pay their bills and leave the venue.

"Hello again, I brought you the best beignets in all of New Orleans."

Y/n sets down a plate piled with pillow-like pastries covered in the right amount of powdered sugar.

"It still surprises me that no one has wifed you up yet. I still remember what you told me when we first met at your job."

They smile at that and goes to clear the plates in front of them.

"The way to a man's heart is through his stomach."

As they walk away with the dishware, Gojo turns to look at Nanami.

"Shoot your shot Nanami... My six-eyes can sense that you're making goo-goo eyes at her."

Nanami looked around the room. Everyone has left and they were the only ones in the room. For once in his life, Gojo was right! He shouldn't be nervous; he should go for it. They walk over to the table again with smaller plates and a smile still on their face.

"I brought you some smaller plates for the beignets. Is there anything else I could bring out to you or help you with?"

They looked between the two men; they really were the most stunning person he's ever seen.

"Could I talk to you?"

They smiled and nodded, leading him up the stairs and through the glass double doors on the right.

"So, what did you want to talk about, sugar?" They leans against the railing comfortably.

His heart did a small flip at the nickname as he approached them.

"I wanted to talk about you. I wanted to get to know you more."

He leans on the other side of the railing, right next to them.

"Gojo was telling me all about you during the flight, the drive, hell, even over dinner, he was telling me about you."

They laugh, throwing their head back and then looking at him.

"That's Satoru. He was telling me about you too, maybe he was trying to set us up with each other. He asked me if he could bring another person."

They turn their attention to the night sky and Nanami does the same.

"I want to get to know you more as well. I'd think it'd be fun to see where this goes. Especially since Gojo decided to talk each other up to the other person."

Nanami turns back to Y/n.

"Would you want to get a coffee, tomorrow?"

"I'd love to."

The two doors open, and they turn their attention to Gojo who had the plate of beignets in one hand and a half-eaten beignet in the other.

"These beignets are delicious Y/n." He licks his fingers after finishing the beignet.

"Thank you, Satoru. Leave some for Nanami now."

"No need to call me Nanami, Kento's fine."

A smug smirk appears on Gojo's face at that. Then, it widens when he looks down at the railing.

"I see you two have been getting 'close'."

He gestures to the part of the railing where Nanami's hand was on top of yours, brushing your knuckles softly. Neither of you move though.

"Well, we have a coffee date in the morning. Go back and get some sleep. Gojo will give you, my number."

Y/n leads them to the main area and Gojo pays for the meal.

"See you tomorrow Kento."

"See you tomorrow, Y/n."

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

#fluff #requests are open #jjk x reader #requests open #taking requests #reqs open #jjk fluff #jjk x reader fluff #jjk fluff x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #nanami x reader fluff #nanami fluff #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x reader fluff #nanami kento fluff #nanami x reader #ft. Gojo #ft. Satoru Gojo

[amatchinwater]

Push it till it Breaks | Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Summary: Once you realize you have feelings for your best friend, Eddie, you can't make yourself say the words out loud. Not even when you notice he has feelings for you too. So you tease the hell out of him in hopes it will make him snap. Probably shouldn't have done in in the middle of a Hellfire meeting. Well, you're certainly not complaining if it gets you Eddie.

Warnings: 18+, there's fluff if you squint, angst, explicit sexual content, spanking, hair pulling, fingering, multiple orgasms, p in v sex, unprotected sex (reader on pill), squirting, come as lube, Master kink (Eddie is the Dungeon Master, it makes sense), dom!Eddie, use of pet names, aftercare is offered but reader wants round 2 first, degradation (whore/slut), flashbacks, drug use,

Words: 6199

a/n: thank you @yourdollydreams for the request! I had a lot of fun with it! I tweaked it a tiny bit to rather teasing Eddie in a turning him on sense, she also tries to push his buttons to make him lose control. I hope that's okay! There is a scene with that, but it's not the whole premise because this ran away with me.

Requests are open, I'll take Steve and Steddie too! Send some, if you'd like! Masterlist

Not my gif!! Credit to creator!!

You’re not really sure when it happened, to be honest. There doesn’t seem like a set time that you really started to have feelings for your best friend. You can absolutely pinpoint when you realized you’d had feelings. But the realization came with a minor epiphany that they were far from a new development. Simply that your brain had caught up with your heart. Among other things. 

Eddie has been your best friend for as long as you can remember. You’ve lived in Forest Hills Trailer park, three lots down from him, ever since you were born. Wayne had gone to school with your dad and they both work at the plant together. So, most of your days were spent with wide brown eyes and heavy music. Over the years and the confusing puberty time period, you’d assumed he’d want to not be best friends with a girl anymore. 

Some archaic belief nagging at the back of your brain that you’d grow apart, that guys and girls can’t be friends. But that couldn’t have been farther off base if you’d tried. Nothing can trump the connection from years worth of playing on the same playground. Sharing lame jokes that make you both wheeze with laughter. Parental figures working nights, leaving the slightly older boy in charge of looking after you both. It’s a bond that you just can’t break. 

So yeah, somewhere along the lines, you fell for Eddie “the freak” Munson. It’s a little annoying. Not in the sense that you’re pissed it’s Eddie you want. You just wouldn’t have wasted your time kissing so many frogs in hopes of a prince if you knew that you could have Eddie. What’s annoying is you want to know when it happened. The idea of things creeping up on you doesn’t sit right. God, the day you realized, you acted like such an idiot too. 

---

“What are we watching tonight, sweetheart?” Eddie asks, sparking up a joint where he sits on the couch, shirtless, sweatpant clad legs spread. The light glow from the lamp in the living room paints Eddie in a soft, golden hue, enhancing his relaxed features. All you can do is watch as he lets the smoke spill out of his mouth before inhaling it through his nose. Your eyes fixate on the trail from his plump lips, licking your own. 

What the fuck is going on with you? 

Why are you staring at him like a creep?

Shaking yourself out of whatever the hell that was, your gaze snaps to the two boxes in your hands. “Um,” you swallow thickly, trying very hard to get your brain to read the words printed in front of you. “Stuck between The Shining and Carrie,” you fumble out. You’re about two seconds away from actually slapping yourself. 

You’ve never acted like this around Eddie before. You’ve seen him without his shirt on more times than you can count. Hell, you went with him to get both chest tattoos and the headless bat he has on his ribcage. The two of you have been friends long enough that you’ve both accidentally walked in on the other while changing, so the fact that his thin sweats do nothing in hiding what’s underneath shouldn’t be a surprise either. 

Laying an arm over the armrest, Eddie narrows his eyes to protect them as the smoke coils up from another drag. “So you just want to mentally fuck me tonight, got it.”

Warmth burns your cheeks at his words, freezing your frame still. The instinct to fire back that you wouldn’t fuck him singes your tongue. “I-” That’s not something all that weird to come out of Eddie’s mouth, nor your attempted rebuttal. So why in the hell did it send a shock down your spine like a bucket of ice water had been dumped on you? You’re not even high yet, so there goes that excuse. 

“I’m just kidding, babe,” he says, ashing the joint before leaning forward to hand it to you. “You know you can pick whatever you want,” Eddie says, your shaky hand taking the rolled paper from him. 

Inhaling deeply into your lungs, you hold your breath, hoping this will knock some sense into you. Or rather, knock enough out that you don’t have to think about what’s happening and why you’re being so fucking weird. “The Shining it is, then,” you say on the exhale. Putting the tape in, you go back over to the couch, handing the weed back before plopping down on the couch beside him. Without a second thought, you throw your legs into his lap like you’ve done countless times before, settling into the corner of the couch as the movie starts. 

Not missing a beat, Eddie’s free hand comes to your legs, running along the bare skin from your pajama shorts. Your breath catches in your chest feeling the warmth of his hand on you. Cold, chunky rings doing nothing to hide the searing heat blazing your flesh. His hand never goes more than a few inches above your knee as you hand the joint back and forth. But the way his fingers glide across the small portion of thigh he does touch lights a fire inside of you. 

You’re not even paying attention to the movie. The images flashing on the screen, but the only thing you can focus on is his fucking hand. You didn’t even realize that he was trying to talk to you until his hand grips your thigh, shaking it a bit to get your attention. “Huh?” You whip your head to face him.

“I asked if you wanted the last hit,” Eddie repeats himself, holding the roach your way. 

The question might as well have been a slap in the face the way your heart tightens in your chest. Suddenly every single thing makes sense to you. The way his hand has you so bent out of shape. The way he inhaled shooting straight to your core. How he always lets you pick the movie, or the music, and always offers you the last hit. Everything that your best friend does for you wrapped up in a tiny little bow. Why every little thing about Eddie is so noticeable and intense tonight. 

You fucking like him. 

You were so startled by his mind fuck comment and couldn’t say that you wouldn’t because it’d be a fucking lie. Subconsciously, you knew that you wanted to be with Eddie before your brain had even had a moment to process the information. 

Son of a bitch.

“I- uh,” you clear your throat, his eyebrows raising at you in waiting. 

“You alright?” Eddie asks when you still haven’t answered. 

“Great!” You say a little too chipper. “Um, I’m good,” you shake your head, waving at the burnt paper, “you can have it.” 

Eddie’s eyebrows pinch, like he knows something’s off. But he doesn’t say anything, which you’re grateful for. He only nods, taking the last hit and snubbing the remnants. After doing so, he curls his arm around your shoulders to bring you closer to him, allowing your head to rest on his shoulder. Meanwhile your heart is having a field day in your chest. 

---

So, yeah, it became pretty obvious to you that you felt some type of way about Eddie. With noticing everything about him, you started to realize that everything you liked about Eddie, he did for you. Playing your favorite songs softly on his acoustic when you had trouble sleeping. Coming over in the middle of the night when your bathroom sink broke and fixing it for you. Giving you rides everywhere because the thought of his best friend walking somewhere was ridiculous to him. Letting you decide what you were doing on days he didn’t have Hellfire or practice. 

Each and every time you’d offered to do whatever he wanted to do, Eddie would hit you with a ‘I wanna do whatever you want, princess,’ or something of that nature. And the pet names. They’d never stopped. Princess, babe, love, sweetheart. You name it, Eddie’s more than likely called you that. It wasn’t until the day that after a weak attempt to fill the Eddie sized hole in your heart with someone else only resulting in heartbreak did you realize why he always called you sweet names. When he told you that you were too good for the asshole that cheated on you all of a month into the relationship.

‘Babe, you’re perfect and if he can’t see that, he’s a fucking idiot that doesn’t deserve you,’ were his exact words. But it was in the way he held you close to his chest, peppering kisses in your hair while he rubbed your back that it hit you. 

Eddie liked you too. 

Your best friend wanted in your pants but he was just too much of a gentleman to say it outright. You’re not blind and you’re far from stupid. And to be frank, it’s not like Eddie doesn’t have warmth pooling in your gut with the smallest of actions. Maybe, in some backwards sort of way, you hope that over exaggerating your own feelings for him will let Eddie do what you can’t seem to do. Have the courage to make the first move. 

So rather than put your big girl pants on and talk about it, you teased him. The way he stuttered his words when you’d asked if he was an idiot then too was well worth it. 

But once you’d started to tease him about it, you didn’t really know how to stop. It’s become this kind of rapport you share. Him subtly hitting on you while you push it too far to get him to crack. It’s just that he hasn’t cracked. Eddie is like a stone fucking wall when it comes to his resolve. You’d thought for sure the day you’d gotten him to pop a boner class that he finally would’ve said something. 

Except that he didn’t.

You two were talking about some potential date with Jason Carver. One you’d never say yes to, mind you. But still. Word had spread that after the jock’s friend hurt you, that he wanted to swoop in and save the day. You’d rather make out with a viper.

---

“A shoulder to cry on is a dick to ride on, sweetheart,” Eddie scoffed under his breath. 

You roll your eyes, while he’s not necessarily wrong, that's probably exactly Jason’s hopes and intentions, it only lets his jealousy show. “What’s the matter, Eds?” You drop your tone, honey sweet, “would you rather it be your shoulder?” You ask, knowing good and well he’ll get the insinuation. 

“Pfft, anyone is better than Jason, babe,” he says, fiddling with his pencil. “Besides, last I’d heard,” Eddie leans over, “Carver doesn’t know shit about pleasing a woman in bed.” But the sneer on his slips does nothing to hide the meaning of his words. 

“That so?” You meet him the rest of the way, placing your hand above his knee, “tell me something, Eds.” You slide your hand up his thigh, squeezing as you go, and Eddie stills, tension locking his shoulders while he holds his breath. Just as you’re about to reach the inseam, you whisper, “do you know how to please a woman better than Jason?” You make sure to add an extra layer of sugar to the jock’s name, really lay it on thick with Eddie. “You think you could please me?” You tease, reaching your destination and feeling the hardened bulge in his jeans. 

Eddie jolts out of his stool so quickly, he nearly knocks it over, mumbling “bathroom,” to the teacher scolding him for his outburst. 

---

All Eddie did was excuse himself to the bathroom and acted like nothing ever happened come lunchtime. Like he didn’t rub one out in the middle of school because of something you’d said. It was kind of infuriating. Sure, you weren’t exactly thinking he’d jump your bones in the middle of a crowded classroom. You don’t even know what you were expecting. Some other kind of a reaction than that.

An acceptance. Some kind of affirmation. 

An agreement that he in fact could take care of you. That he wanted to. Just like you so desperately wanted him to. You’re running out of ways to tease him that aren’t just throwing yourself at him or walking into his room stark naked.

“I need your help,” Eddie’s voice startles your head out of your locker as he leans on the one beside it. 

“Fuck’s sake, Munson,” you clutch your chest, heart hammering from how hard you were yanked from your thoughts. “Are you trying to send me to an early grave?”

He only laughs at your anxiousness, “never! I like having you around too much, princess,” Eddie grins while you shove the last textbook into your locker. 

Closing your locker, you wink at him, “always knew you had the hots for me, Eds.” 

“Fuck off,” Eddie playfully swats at your arm, making you giggle. 

You’re confident in his feelings for you. But when it comes to the actual act of opening your mouth and telling Eddie how you feel, you clam up. And you’re honestly a little worried that with how long you’ve been teasing him about it, Eddie might not believe you if you said it in earnest. That you were playing some trick. If only he knew that you mean every word. So all you can do now is hope he breaks since you’ve dug yourself into a hole you have no idea how to get out of. 

“What did you need help with?” You lean against the lockers, facing him.

Eddie crosses his arms over his chest, “Mike thought it’d be a good idea to get the flu.” With a huff, he presses on, “and I’m not about to get sick for one and cancel the last meeting for Hellfire before break. So, I was hoping” he reaches over and taps your nose, “you would come by as a stand in?”

“Yeah, why not,” you say. It’s been a bit since you’ve played. He taught you how when you were kids, but never got as into it as he did. Helping him plan his campaigns however, that was pretty fun. “Are you still on the Cult of Vecna? I’d hate to be accused of cheating,” you remark. 

“No, we finished that a few weeks ago,” Eddie smiles, “if the dice treats them kindly, the party will be taking down a succubus tonight.” 

“Do I have enough time to shower and change first? Gym kicked my ass today,” you tell him. 

Eddie wraps his arm around your shoulder like you didn’t literally just tell him you think you smell. “Of course,” he says, leading you towards the exit. “Gotta grab you an official shirt first anyway,” Eddie weaves through the mass of students making their way to the bus or their cars. Reaching his van, he opens the passenger door for you. As always, waving his arm out with a bow, “M’lady, your chariot.” 

“Thank you, Eddie,” you kiss his cheek, “always such a gentleman.” Even hopping in your seat, you don’t miss the way he tries to hide his blush behind his curls. 

Getting in the driver’s seat, Eddie blasts the mixtape he made for you all the way to the trailer park, not saying a word until he pulls up outside your place. Opening your door, he jabs a thumb over his shoulder, “I’m gonna go grab the shirt, be back in a few, okay?” 

“Sure thing, handsome,” you pat his chest, boots hitting the grass. Batting your eyelashes at him, you saunter towards your front door. 

Biting away your giggle at pushing his buttons once again, you narrowly miss his grumbled speech under his breath. “...be the fucking death of me.” 

Passing through the kitchen once inside, you see a note with a twenty on the counter from your dad. Telling you he had to leave early today, but to get yourself something to eat for dinner. Shoving the money in your bag, you make a beeline for the bathroom. You all but tear your clothes off in your haste to get clean, scrubbing yourself harder than necessary. But you really fucking hate gym class and were forced to participate today. 

Satisfied that you only smell like your shampoo and favorite soap, you wrap your towel around yourself and head to your room to get dressed. You have half a mind to just stand there and wait for Eddie to come back. Wondering if you being in nothing but a towel would finally let his instincts take over, throw the gentlemanly attitude in the trash and just take you. But, he’d asked you for your help and knew he would be angry with himself if he missed Hellfire. 

You want Eddie, that’s a fact. But you don’t want to prevent him from doing the things he loves. So you quickly get dressed. Grabbing a pair of wide fishnets and a short, black and red skirt and your boots. Choosing a dark red, lacey bra and panty set to match. It’s only when you start digging through your drawers for a shirt that you remember you’re supposed to be wearing a Hellfire shirt tonight. 

A wicked grin splits your face, an idea forming that you simply can’t turn down. Not bothering to put a shirt on, you sit on your bed with your bra covered tits on display, leaning back on your palms to wait for Eddie. Your front door opens and nerves settle in your chest. What if he freaks out in a bad way?

“You ready, princess?” Eddie’s voice floats through the trailer, his footsteps making their way to your room, “sorry it took so- fuck.” Eddie’s words slow to a halt when he sees you displayed on your bed. “I- um, sorry,” he covers his eyes with his free hand, burning red cheeks beneath his palm. 

“It’s okay to look, Eds,” your voice saccharine even to yourself, “promise I won’t bite. Unless you’re into that, of course.” 

“Put this on,” Eddie unceremoniously tosses the fabric in your general direction, successfully covering your chest, “we’re gonna be late.” 

“What’s the matter, Eds?” You tease further, standing up and putting on the Hellfire shirt, tying it behind your back so it doesn’t cover your skirt and exposes some of your midriff. Hearing the rustling of fabric, his hand falls from his face, expression stern. It warms your core in the most delicious way possible. You can’t help but push him harder, getting in his space, “can’t handle seeing a girl wearing a bra? Or is it me that’s doin’ it for ya?” 

“Keep acting like a brat, babe,” Eddie warns, an inch from your face, pointing at you, “and I’ll put you over my fucking knee. ‘Kay?” He doesn’t give you a chance to respond, smirking at the red tinge of your cheeks before walking out of your room. 

That shuts you up real quick and you follow him outside to his van.

---

As much as you wanted to poke and prod at Eddie on the way back to school, you didn’t. It wasn’t in fear of him putting you over his knee. That sounds amazing. It was the hard lines on his face as he kept checking his watch. The way he would groan and his fingers would fidget on the steering wheel at every red light you hit on the way there. You kept quiet, bobbing your head to the music, being good so that Eddie could get to his friends on time. 

Did that stop you from uncrossing your legs when his hand found the gear shift in hopes he would reach over to place his hand on your thigh? No, no it did not. Did you get what you wanted? Also no. Annoyed with yourself for not pressing him further, you didn’t even notice you’d gotten to school until your door was yanked open. Eddie’s palm up in offering to help you out of the van. 

You sat at the Hellfire table where everyone had their sheets, notes, and dice set up to play, dutifully listening to the recap of their last session. It wasn’t hard to keep up with, and you really think that if you all work together properly that you’d be able to kill the succubus. Gareth joked that he could just seduce it, win her over so that no one had to fight or die. 

The way Eddie rolled his eyes at the suggestion sealed the deal. 

This is how you’re going to get what you want. If you couldn’t tease Eddie to the point of snapping, you’ll poke the metaphorical bear and piss him off enough to.

“I think you should do it,” you say, placing your hand on Gareth’s shoulder leaning into him, “I’m sure you’ve got what it takes, big guy.” 

You miss Dustin’s muttered, “oh, shit,” and Jeff’s wince. 

Eddie’s hand falls to your thigh under the table, squeezing just enough to equally hurt and feel amazing. “Forget what I said already?” His eyes have darkened and have a glint to them that makes you crave. You know exactly what he’s talking about, but shake your head anyway. He juts his lips, giving you a curt nod and his hand vanishes. “You cannot seduce a succubus,” Eddie explains, playing off his question like it was meant for the group and not you. “She will see right through your bullshit attempt and kill you twice as fast.” 

“Come on,” your voice drips honey, rolling your eyes, ignoring Eddie to face Gareth and stroke his cheek with your finger, “Gareth’s more than attractive enough to pull it off. Aren’t you?” You coo, pinching his reddened cheek. 

You feel a little bad, using Gareth to get Eddie pissed off enough to do something. But at least you’re not lying. Gareth, objectively, is attractive. So what’s a little boost to his ego to get you what you want going to hurt? Nothing. 

“Is that really your course of action, Gareth the Great?” Eddie grits, pointing to the set of dice in front of the other boy. Brown eyes wild and his tone not even trying to hide his annoyance.

Furrowing his brows, Gareth contemplates his options, before holding up a finger and turning his attention to the rest of the group. Wanting their opinion as to whether he can actually do this or not. A conversation you’re not allowed to be a part of when Eddie’s hand grabs your thigh again, jerking your legs open and you closer to him. 

Your wide eyes meet him where he’s leaning in his throne to whisper, “you really want to be put over my knee that badly, babe?” 

“Oh, Eddie,” you purr, guiding his hand farther up your thigh, “don’t threaten me with a good time. Because all it sounds like to me is weightless threats. Why don’t you do something, Eds?” 

“Watch it,” his free hand comes up, ring clad finger pointing at you again, “keep it up and I won’t care that we’re mid session. Understand?” Eddie’s getting close and your nerves are buzzing in delight. That some part of him is accepting your advances. But the fact that he’s still trying to contain himself only eggs you on more. “Careful, princess.”

Is that so? 

Settling in your seat, you smile sweetly, “I understand, Master,” teasing his role of Dungeon Master. You smirk at the way his hand tightens around your thigh. You know what the bandana in his pocket means and you were hoping that he did too. The way his mouth pinches into a thin line only confirms your hopes. “I promise I’ll be good,” you say, lying through your teeth. 

“I’m gonna do it,” Gareth declares, happily oblivious to the conversation that just occurred, startling you two away from one another, leaving your thigh cold. “I’m gonna roll a charisma check, gonna try and woo her with my drum skills.”

“For fuck’s-” Eddie scrubs the irritation from his face, “go ahead. Don’t expect this to be easy,” he growls, “perfect twenty or you fail and I get to watch her eat you.” 

No matter what happens after Gareth lets the die fly out of his hands, you’re certain of one thing; you’ve got Eddie now. Time to make him crack. The die hits the table, bouncing a few times before rolling to a stop. Lifting from your seat, you peer over to the other side, giving Eddie a perfect view of your ass. Hearing him groan, you lean further, seeing a golden twenty on the sleek black die. 

“See, Gareth,” you plop back down in your chair. Reaching over, you run your hands through his curls, “I knew you had what it takes to please a woman.” You really hope throwing that line out that had gotten Eddie so worked up last time would be what it takes to make him lose control now. 

“Well aren’t you-” Gareth’s words are cut short from Eddie’s throne skidding across the floor from his force to stand. Silence falls after the screech. 

“Get up,” he states. When you don’t move, he drags your chair out from under the table. “I warned you,” he seethes in your ear, bending to pick you up and throw you over his shoulder. Your squeal is ignored by everyone at the table when Eddie’s palm smacks your ass. “Have fun fucking a succubus, Gareth. We’ll be back,” Eddie doesn’t bother looking over his shoulder, heading for the exit. 

You look up at the group, hoping one of them will help you or get Eddie to calm down, but they don’t. Jeff is only hiding his smile behind his hand as he shakes his head. Mike looks uncomfortable, not surprising. Dustin winces, awkwardly waving at your retreating form. Lucas mutters something under his breath that you don’t catch. Not even Gareth saves you, too strung out on the fact that he’d rolled perfectly. Because unbeknownst to you, everyone in that room knows of Eddie’s feelings for you. Your blatant teasing hasn’t gone unnoticed by any of them, they’re honestly surprised Eddie didn’t yank you out of the room the first time you touched Gareth. 

Throwing the door open, Eddie doesn’t say a word as he carries you down the hall, trying door handles until he finds one that’s unlocked. Halfway down the hall, he’s successful, pushing that door open just as hard as the club’s. “You know,” he huffs, yanking the teacher’s rolling chair out, “I tried to be nice.” 

He sets you on your feet for the two seconds it takes him to sit down before pulling you over his lap. “Eddie,” you try to scramble up, only to be slapped on the ass again.

“Quiet,” Eddie orders, situating you until you're positioned properly, one arm holding your lower back to keep you in place, the other hiking your skirt. “D’you think I’m stupid? Fucking with Gareth to get a rise out of me. Thought I wouldn’t notice?” He asks, spanking you again when you don’t answer. 

“Not stupid, Eds,” you pant, the sting warming your exposed skin, the thin lace doing nothing to hide the discoloration from his palm. “Just very fucking stubborn,” you correct him, with a breathless laugh. “Can’t take what’s blatantly offered to you.”

“That so?” Eddie rubs your ass, gripping the plump flesh before slapping it again. He dips his hand, running his fingers over your clothed folds, chuckling at the wet patch. “Aww, so wet already? Only a slut’s pussy gets wet from just spanking her. That what you are? My little slut?” 

You moan, “yes,” arching your back to try and get more contact to your aching pussy. 

“And she’s desperate too,” Eddie coos, speaking about you as if you’re not even there. Yanking your panties down, he ghosts his fingers against your slit, “I bet it hurts, hmm?” Eddie slaps both sides of your ass, hard, making you cry out and grip the chair and his legs. “I bet it does,” he kneads the flesh, “being so needy over so little. Don’t worry,” his shoves two fingers inside of you, you don’t know if you screamed or moaned, “Master will take care of you, sweetheart.” 

His voice oozes faux sympathy and your eyes roll back as he brushes that sweet spot inside of you instantly. “E-Eddie,” you moan, trying to meet the thrust of his fingers. 

Yanking you up by your hair, Eddie removes his fingers, slapping your ass. The wet digits make it sting even more. “Call me that again, and you’ll be biting down on your soaked panties for the rest of the night. Got it?” 

“Yes,” you grunt from the angle. Eddie only pulls your hair harder, making you wince, “yes, Master.” Your hair is released and you gasp, falling back to his leg. 

“Good girl,” he praises, sinking his fingers back inside, building your orgasm at twice the rate. You’re a moaning mess in his lap, writhing and ready to snap. “I shouldn’t let you cum for being such a brat before,” Eddie considers. “But fuck, babe, I wanna hear the way you scream when you cum.” 

He doubles his efforts and your eyes roll back, moaning wantonly. “Fuck,” you gasp, warmth spreading through your core like lava. Hot and thick. “Please, please- fuck,” you cry out, a harsh slap to your ass, hightening the sensations in your cunt. 

“Might put those panties in your mouth anyway, princess,” Eddie curls his fingers again and you’re sure you’re going to black out. “Wouldn’t want the rest of the group to hear how much of a whore you are. Ready to fall apart before I’ve even got my dick in you. Come on,” Eddie groans, his hard cock pressing against your stomach, thumb dipping to circle your clit, “show them what a good, little slut you are for me, baby.” 

Static washes over your limbs, a loud, broken moan falling from your lips and you gush. Squirting all over Eddie’s fingers, thighs shaking through your orgasm. Your eyes screw shut, Eddie not stopping the thrusts of his fingers, the coil winding inside of you faster than you knew it could. And before you can even say it’s sensitive, or too much, your walls flutter around him as you come again. Your head grows fuzzy from the intensity of two in such quick succession. 

“That’s my fucking girl,” Eddie growls, pulling his fingers out. You can hear him sucking them clean, “fuck, you taste good.” Helping you up, he bends you over the desk, hearing his belt unbuckle, his pants sliding down after. “Ready?” Eddie asks, rubbing the tip of his dick along your cunt. 

“Please,” you gasp against the cold wood, hands splayed as you turn your head, “please, Master. Need you.”

“All you’ve ever, ever had to do,” Eddie accentuates his words with harder rubs to your folds, “was ask.” Proving to you that had you properly opened your mouth from the beginning that you could’ve been doing this much sooner. “If it’s too much, I want you to say red, understand?” You nod, trying to push back onto his dick. But he pulls farther away, rubbing your hip softly, “I need words, baby.”

“I understand, Master.”

“Good girl,” he praises, lifting the back of your shirt to place a kiss on your spine. Finally, his cock pushes inside of you, the stretch eliciting a lewd moan from your mouth. 

“Oh my g-god,” you gasp out a throaty moan, the fullness of your walls stretching you so perfectly. All you can think about is where you’re connected. His cock full hilt, the hand bruisingly holding your hip and the other rubbing the swell of your ass. 

“Not god, baby, just me,” Eddie chuckles darkly, slowly pulling back to just the tip. Dragging himself inside your pussy in teasing strokes, going only halfway back in to pull back again. “So tight, baby, fucking perfect.” He lifts your leg up until your knee is resting on the desk and then he slams into you deep, provoking another scream. “That’s right, let it out, pretty girl. Scream for your Master.” 

You grit your teeth, the constant ramming of that spongy spot inside of you leaves stars behind your eyelids. “Fuck, fuck,” you gasp, moaning as you try to push back to meet his thrusts. 

Eddie wraps his hand around your throat, pulling you up until you’re flush with his chest, free hand groping your breasts. “Sound so pretty,” he groans in your ear, thrusting faster and your eyes roll back. “Gonna come again?” Eddie asks, leaving your breasts to circle his fingers around your clit. “Soak my cock, baby.” Throwing your head back, you scream incomprehensible sounds, your orgasm rushing through you and splashing all over his dick pumping into you at a startling pace. “This what you wanted? Hmm? Wanted me?”

“Yes,” you croak, vocal chords going through it with the way you keep screaming from his efforts. 

“Prove it,” Eddie says, swiftly pulling out to sit back down in the rolling chair. Grabbing your hips, he helps you straddle his lap. “Show me how badly you’ve wanted me, princess. It’s your turn to make Master feel good,” Eddie guides his dick back inside and you sigh, feeling him back where he belongs. 

“Wanted you for so long, Eds,” you whine, out of breath and very fuzzy. You hold his shoulders for balance, bouncing on his cock. 

His brown eyes soften only just, the hands holding your waist tenderly rubbing the skin. “Me too, princess,” Eddie says, grabbing the back of your head to pull you in for a kiss. You melt into it, grinding against his cock, putting pressure on your clit in a way that has another orgasm bubbling under the surface. You can barely think, let alone breathe when Eddie mutters, “gettin’ close, babe,” helping you grind against him faster. “Can I come inside? Mark this perfect pussy as mine?”

Resting your forehead against his, you nod, not trusting your voice. You’re on the pill, something you can absolutely tell him later once you have the proper functions to do so. For now, “p-pill,” is all you can manage. At least, you think you said it. Your throat certainly made a noise. Whether it was an actual word is up for debate. He’s doing a wonderful job making you cock drunk and you never want to look back. 

Eddie chuckles, wrapping both arms around your back to hold your shoulders, thrusting up into you with sloppy, hard movements. “That’s my girl,” he moans, pounding into you and just when you think you can’t take it anymore, that the burn of your orgasm won’t be more than a tease, your walls clench and you come again. Eddie following you soon after, “fuck, baby,” moaned from him lips, his cock burying deep inside of you as the warmth of his cum spreads inside your pussy. 

Panting and struggling to catch your breath, Eddie carefully pulls out of you. One hand rubs softly on your reddened ass, the other tracing shapeless designs on your back. “You okay, sweetheart?” He asks, all the tenderness in his voice returned, wrapping you in the best kind of warmth. “What do you need?” Eddie asks when you don’t answer, leaning his head back to try and get you to look at him. 

Barely opening your eyes, you half nod your head, mumbling, “just you. Always needed you,” you smile sleepily. 

“You have me, babe,” Eddie places soft kisses on your lips, coaxing your head down from the clouds. “I think you have for a while now,” he laughs under his breath. 

“Took you long enough,” you huff, opening your eyes enough to properly see him. 

“Maybe, if you realize you like me,” Eddie chuckles, out of breath from both of your efforts. “Don’t tease me so much that I think you’re just joking, just say something.” 

Sitting up, you give him a mock salute, “yes, sir,” with a dopey smile. 

His fingers dig into your hips, “what was that?” It takes you a moment to sift through the haze in your brain to notice he’s not angry, his hard cock digging into your ass. But you bite your lip once you understand what he means. “Say it again,” he grinds you against him, your eyes fluttering shut with a sigh. Lifting you enough to prod at your pussy, Eddie repeats, “call me sir again, sweetheart.” 

The tease gets to your head as much as it does your pussy, “please, sir,” you whine, trying to get him inside of you again. 

“For you, princess?” Eddie sinks you down on his cock, the sinful sounds of both of your cum making you moan, “always. Now be a good girl and come so that I can get you home and take care of you, yeah?” 

You probably won’t be making it back to Hellfire as your hips start to roll again. 

But at least you’ve finally got Eddie.

---

taglist: let me know if you'd like to be added 💚

@only4wakingup @decadentpaperduck @ruinedbythehobbit @wolfhrdds @live-the-fangirl-life @imnotsiriusyouare

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things 4 #stranger things #Match Writes

[littlemisspascal]

2023 & Me

Been thinking a lot these past few days about everything that's happened with me in 2023. Hard to believe it's coming to end--time seriously does fly 😮

There's been some heavy losses this year. Several family members passed away to illnesses and old age, including my grandfather who I had a strained relationship with to say the least. I also had a shocking family drama bomb dropped on me earlier this month that has had a huge ripple effect I'm still navigating, but fingers crossed things will find a way of working out for the best.

I had some severe mental health depression episodes throughout the year, made me reevaluate priorities and also doubt pretty much every choice I've ever made in life, but I do truly believe I'm entering 2024 in a positive mindset so that's something to be happy about :) I'mma try this crazy concept called self-love and not think the worst about me, myself, and I.

My writing took a hit this year. Word count wise, kudos wise, engagement wise--but I also made progress on several wips and even finished a few which is a big accomplishment for a snail writer like me 😊 I want to enter 2024 not feeling guilty for being self-indulgent or trying new kinds of writing styles. I also want to shake off the belief a low note count equals it was a bad fic/waste of time -- I don't believe that for anyone else, yet my brain always uses it as a weapon of insecurity against myself and enough is enough brain 😠 no more I say!

On a more positive note, I was fortunate enough to attend several conventions this year and improve my cosplay skills (2024 Ahsoka is gonna be my best look yet I just know it 😁). I got to meet total sweethearts Jon Bernthal and Charlie Cox, Steve Burns my childhood hero, the dear Jodi Benson, the gorgeous Rosario Dawson and beautiful Ming-Na Wen, and of course I can't ever forget Andrew Garfield 😱💗 And most importantly of all I did each these cons with my sister and made some lifelong memories! (Also bought a heckin lot of stickers. A heckin lot 🥰)

And then of course the crown jewel of 2023 1000% hands down was attending the United States Formula 1 Grand Prix. Good lord y'all it was one of the best weekends of my entire life! If you had asked me a couple years ago if I'd care about a sport--any sport--I'd have laughed in your face but there's just something so addictive and captivating about the world of F1 and its cast of characters. And having the luck of getting Alex Albon and Daniel Ricciardo's autographs on my dumb lil frog bucket hat was just *muffled screaming* I literally was a shaking mess lemme tell ya--just ask @beecastle and @undercoverpena who were there with me on my phone every step of the way 💜 thanks for putting up with my addiction y'all! Much much love to you both!!

AND THE FRIGGIN FACT SOMEONE GOT A PHOTO OF ME AND DANNY TOGETHER 🥺😭😭 NEVER BE OVER IT NOPE

There are so many people on here that made 2023 a bright and kind and fun one for me---@oonajaeadira @something-tofightfor @wheresarizona @trinkets01 @kyberblade @sofasoap @grogusmum @writeforfandoms @psychedelic-ink @kteague @prolix-yuy @wildemaven @the-blind-assassin-12 @practicalghost @gnpwdrnwhiskey @bishtrouille @nothoughtsjustmeds @kirsteng42 @miraclesabound @radiowallet @harriedandharassed @hopeamarsu and dozens dozens dozens more!

Thank you to everyone who's liked, reblogged, commented on my blog + sent me messages! I appreciate and love you all so much more than words can ever express 💜💗💙🧡

2024---let's bring it on! 🥳

#i have spoken

[inexplicablymine]

Maybe because it’s 3:42 in the morning and I’m feeling maudlin, but let me be sappy for a moment of your time dear internet.

Because dear internet, you fucking suck. There is no other way around it, from stan trolls, to the rampant isms that plague platforms, to the depths of hatred that seem to be so easily spewed from a screen, you take the pits of hell and present it to us in nice, neat, perfectly packaged bite size pieces. Dante’s Inferno might have been a fan fiction of the Bible, but you have found a way to push us, unwillingly, through the nine circles of hell all on your own.

But dear internet, in between all the faff and pieces of your mainframe that I can’t seem to stand, I have found the most wonderful people. In the dusty corners of a discord chat, discussed between the tags of reblogs, in intermittent DM’s, through AO3 comments, and a whole host of cobbled together platforms stuffed underneath a trench coat trying to appear put together… I have found community.

Even if just for an infinitesimal moment, for a shred of time, for the split second it takes to slip into something more, I am reminded that all we have in this world when it’s all said and done are the relationships we have built with others, the love we have doled out to the people around us, and the kindness we have fostered for friends we have made.

I sit here with tears in my eyes and a frog in my throat feeling thankful that these wonderful talented fantastical people from all over the globe are my friends. That I get to have them in my life. That their silly words, and laughter, and imagination get to mark up my brain and settle deeply into the grooves of who I am as a person.

So dear internet, you might suck truly, madly, deeply but some of the people hiding between your folds of code make me feel like even though the world is on fire, and gets closer to the inevitable end with each and every waking moment, I now have the kinds of people who make it worth doing more than just survive.

My community, my friends, my silly little names in my phone, thank you for making this year bearable, exciting, and brand new.

#beas shower thoughts #dedicated to the little gays in my phone #my 2023 wrapped in a nutshell #ao3 #fandom #fandom things #inexplicablymine writes

[oddsconvert]

I know we've only had this in one drabble (so far 😈) but I am OBSESSED with broken Izaak

Thank you so much anon!!!! Have some more!! 😘 I hope this suffices!!! 🫶

---

Izaak can feel himself slipping away, like grains of sand sifting through his shaking, bony fingers. Soon there’ll be nothing left of him. Not even the hollow shell of a man that once was. The way Ronan describes it is almost like metamorphosis. Rebirth. Izaak will grow and transform into something beautiful; like a tadpole into a frog or a caterpillar into a butterfly.

This is devolution. A man reduced to a mutt. From standing tall on two legs, to shoved crawling on all fours. Stripped of his voice, his bite and his bark. Izaak won’t be human anymore, he’ll be a tamed and pathetic beast. How the mighty fall.

Click click.

Izaak’s ears twitch and his head instantly snaps up at the click of Ronan’s fingers. He swallows hard, gulping back nerves lodging in his throat. He pulls himself onto weak, unsteady knees, letting his hands rest limply in his lap. He patiently awaits his order, like a good pet. He is a good pet. Good things come to good pets…like Henley. Ever so spoiled. Izaak wants to be spoiled rotten too.

Ronan hums his satisfaction with a grin that makes Izaak's stomach twist and pinch, as he leans back into his chair, spreading his legs a tad wider and patting the space between his thighs.

"Come here, my boy," Ronan calls with a whistle.

Shame swells in Izaak's heaving chest, he finds himself automatically and hurriedly scampering across the room to Ronan's feet. He folds over and nuzzles against Ronan's legs, before perching between them and resting his head gently against his master. Just how Ronan likes it. Izaak can virtually see the brownie points tallying up.

"You've been such a good little pet for me, haven't you?" Ronan coos, raking his fingers through Izaak's overgrown, ratty hair. But it does feel good. Izaak's eyes loll back at the sensation, he melts into the touch. He'd choose this over the endless pain anyday. Izaak was a thick-headed fool to fight back in the first place.

"Yes, master…" Izaak croaks, though the voice that comes out doesn't sound like him. He doesn't recognise himself anymore. Maybe it's easier that way. He can't mourn the life and person he lost if he can't remember it.

"And you're happy now. Now you understand your lot in life. Aren't you?"

"S-so happy, master."

"Hmm," Ronan narrows his eyes, deep in thought. He looks…unconvinced. Dissatisfied. Izaak feels a pang of disappointment rip right through him like a bullet. He has to keep Ronan sweet, he can't rock the boat.

Ronan pinches Izaak's chin between his thumb and forefinger, lifting his head up until their eyes are locked. Izaak tries not to shrink back when his saucer-wide eyes are staring into piercing green.

"I want you to beg me."

"S-Sir?" Izaak gasps, astonished. He feels the air get whisked from his lungs.

"Beg for me to hurt you, pet."

"I-I don't understand. I've…I've been good-"

Izaak can't keep the wobble of threatening tears from his voice, or stop them glazing over his bloodshot eyes. He nervously picks at the already bitten and shredded nails on his fingers, trying to ground himself. It's taken everything in him to submit, to play the part of an animal. If this isn't enough- if Izaak isn't enough -

"You have. Oh believe me, you've been a delight, Izzy. I wouldn't change you for the world," Ronan reassures, batting his eyelashes. Ronan kisses his hand and holds it against Izaak's temple as his eyes flutter shut. He imagines the kiss seeping through his skull and wrapping around his brain, keeping him under control.

"But good gets boring. I should keep up your training. Stop you slipping into old habits."

A tear slips free, and Izaak shakes his head against Ronan's hand. He dares to pull away, so he can collapse at Ronan's feet again and beg for mercy. He shrinks into a ball, sobbing and mumbling incoherently to himself.

No more pain. No more suffering. He was told if he gave in, he'd never hurt again. He made a deal with the devil.

"Please-" Izaak rasps, still bent double on the ground. Praying to Ronan as if he's a deity.

"Please what?" Ronan purrs, kicking his feet up to use Izaak's curled body as a footrest. First an animal, now an object. Furniture.

"...Hurt me," Izaak resigns with a whisper.

"Good boy."

----

Izaak tag list: @emmettnet @kira-the-whump-enthusiast @sorrowful-hyacinth

Drabble taglist: @whatwasmyprevioususername  @whumpsday  @sparrowsage  @whumperfully  @wolves-and-winters @canislycaon24 @happy-little-sadist @darkthingshappen @whumping-in-the-dark

#a taste of your own medicine #ATOYOM #Izaak silvera oc #ronan ellis oc #henley Allen oc #pet whump #whumper turned whumpee #whumperee #broken whumpee #whump #whump writing #answered asks #whump community #whumpblr #whump blog #whumpee #whumper #captivity #obedient whumpee #begging

[letarasstuff]

Borderline Dehydrated

(A/N): This is my second time writing for Star Wars and my first attempt to get a grip on the Mandalorian (writing wise). This is based on my headcanon that Din is borderline dehydrated at any given time. Be nice to me and this fic, I'm ready to bite unwanted haters (critic on the other hand always is welcome)

Summary: Din's older Foundling seems to care more for him than she lets on

Pairing: Din Djarin x Foundling!reader (reader is refered to with she/her pronouns)

Warnings: None (but please let me know, if there is anything)

Wordcount: .7k (she is a cute shorty)

✨Masterlist✨ _____________________________

“Here, for you”, (Y/N) puts down a dish with something akin to a stew on the co-pilot’s seat. Next to Din’s seat she places two bottles of water.

An aura of questions radiates off him, as he watches her pick up the Child from his pram. “Where are you going?” He inquires, confusion evident in his modulated voice. “I’m taking the little one to the hull and eat with him and the Frog Lady dinner. We’ll leave you alone until you come down and tell us you are done. And don’t you dare do it before you drink at least half of what I gave you.” (Y/N) fixes him with a pointed look while cradling the Child to her chest.

“Why?” The Mandalorian simply asks. “Because we went through the desert of Tatooine for several days and I haven’t seen you take a sip of anything during the whole time. I’m sure you are borderline dehydrated at all times. So just fix it and eat the krayt dragon stew and drink some water, ok?” A wee bit of worry is detectable in her voice during the explanation.

Din thanks her as she makes her way to the ladder. “No need to be grateful. I just took the meat Peli already cooked and threw a bunch of other stuff in. Just do me the favor and eat. I don’t want to drag your heavy and sorry ass through the woods or something on a strange planet, just because you collapse from dehydration. I’m doing all of this out of selfish reasons, I want you to know that.”

Both of them know that (Y/N) left her selfishness, something she adapted out of survival during her years as a stray on a backwater planet, long behind. Last, when she threw herself at a Stormtrooper, who tried to shoot Din from behind. Well, luckily the white armored soldiers are not a good shot and that (Y/N)’s brain hasn’t developed a rational sense yet.

“I know”, he replies with a smile audible in his voice, “You are purely acting out of egotistical reasons. Now go and eat, I know that you gave your most recent meal to the Child and if I remember correctly, you haven’t had anything in your belly for as long as I have.” Under his helmet, Din has a smug look on his face.

He can’t describe how much he feels for the foundlings he is caring for. It pains him already thinking about reuniting the Child with the Jedi and then finding survivors of (Y/N)’s species.

During the Empire, her planet was attacked for not surrendering to them. It was an important spot for trading, making it out to be a strategic asset. That’s something the Rebellion saw early on and used it to their advantage. When the chatter about an impending imperial attack grew louder as the Empire were unwilling to leave the innocent civilians out of the war, (Y/N)’s family sent her through a safety pod into the galaxy, hoping that some kind soul will save the child.

That’s all that Din knows about her life before he had found her. Or more like, the Child found her, as she was hiding in a clove of some building. He wandered off while the Mandalorian was negotiating with a merchant. It was like the green creature sensed her distress (which, with today’s knowledge about his powers, he probably did), cooing at the crying girl. When Din found them and realized that there is no one who is willing to take her in, he acted accordingly to his creed.

Just two hours later he regretted it, because he failed to recognize that teenagers in particular are a difficult species to handle. During their first day, he lived through more emotions with (Y/N) than he is able to count on his hands.

Luckily, everything has started falling into place, and now the clan of three is a better than ever team.

And so they continue their quest through the galaxies, looking for the Jedi and another species that probably has been erased.

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x teen!reader #din djarin x female!reader #din djarin x foundling!reader #star wars fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction

[diazsdimples]

Tease Tidbit Tuesday!

Wasn't initially going to do this cause I'm up north with my husband while he gets surgery but then I decided fuck him! He'll survive without me for a second. (for legal reasons, I am joking)

This is another Musican AU snippet, set just before the last snippet and is just before their first kiss

Tagged by @thewolvesof1998 @hippolotamus thanks friends!

It's just as Eddie checks his watch, realising the time, that Buck suggests something. He’s holding his cello out in front of him by the neck, letting it twirl around on it’s spike like some kind of wooden ballerina and his eyes suddenly light up. Eddie can almost see the lightbulb flicker on in his brain.

“Hey, do you wanna try playing it? I can teach you?”

Eddie looks at it cautiously. “Are you sure? I won’t break it?”

Buck waves a hand dismissively. “Nah, they’re sturdy. Go on, I’ll show you what to do.”

Eddie sets his horn down and apprehensively takes the cello from Buck. It feels weird, too big and clunky for his liking. Buck gets up from his chair and kneels in front of Eddie.

“Spike’s too long for you” he mumbles as he fiddles with a knob at the base of the cello. Suddenly the instrument is shooting downwards and Eddie clamps his legs together to stop it from hitting the ground. “Ah, much better” Buck says, and he tightens the knob. The cello slots comfortably between Eddie’s legs and he lets the body rest against his chest, the scroll and tuning pegs lightly brushing his ear.

Buck hands him the bow and Eddie awkwardly closes his fist around it. It doesn’t look right, and Eddie knows he’s not holding it properly but he’s got no clue what else to do.

Buck lets out a small chuckle as he glances at Eddie’s grip and he moves again so he’s standing behind Eddie, leaning over his shoulder. “Here, let me”.

Suddenly, Buck’s hand is enveloping Eddie’s and he’s tugging at Eddie’s fingers, moving them into position. His hand is warm and firm as he guides Eddie’s fingers into the correct position. Eddie’s thumb is now tucked between the hair of the bow and the wood and his other fingers are curled around what he now knows is called the frog. Buck smooths Eddie’s fingers down so he’s not gripping the bow so hard.

“You gotta let it balance between your thumb, pointer and middle fingers. The others are just for support” he says and Eddie can feel the rumble of his chest against his back as he talks.

Eddie swallows thickly. “I think I’ve got it” he croaks but Buck doesn’t remove his hand. Instead, he directs Eddie to bring the bow against the strings, reaching around behind Eddie to curl his left hand around the finger board. With gentle precision, Buck guides Eddie to draw the bow along the bottom string. A low, haunting note is drawn forth from the cello and Eddie shivers. Buck presses his finger down on the string and the note changes. It’s like a throb in Eddie’s chest, humming through his body and making him feel like his veins are full of warm honey. He can feel Buck’s breath against his neck as he continues to guide Eddie’s hand, both his arms effectively wrapped around Eddie. It’s one of the most intimate things that’s ever happened in Eddie’s life. Buck’s so close to him that he can smell his cologne. It’s musky and woody, reminding Eddie of a forest.

Buck’s lips brush delicately against the shell of Eddie’s ear as he whispers, “you’re a natural”. Eddie lets out a shaky laugh and he lets his hand slip from Buck’s grip, transferring the bow into Buck’s hand.

“I’ve got an excellent teacher” Eddie breathes. He twists around in the seat, vaguely noticing the way Buck’s nose brushes through his hair as he turns, and he faces Buck. His chin is tilted upwards so he can look into Buck’s eyes, and he sees that Buck’s pupils are blown wide, giving his eyes a dark, almost hungry look to them. Buck very gently reaches around Eddie and guides the cello to the ground, placing the bow on its side and Eddie never takes his eyes off Buck, maintaining eye contact the whole time. Buck straightens up and rests his hands on the back of Eddie’s chair. His knuckles brush Eddie’s shoulders and Eddie shivers once again.

“Maybe I need to come over and give you another lesson sometime” Buck’s voice is husky and his eyes flicker to Eddie’s lips and back up again, so fast that Eddie would have missed it if he wasn’t drinking in Buck’s facial expressions.

“I-I’d like that” Eddie’s voice is quiet, and he watches as Buck begins to lean forward, closing the distance between their heads. He can feel Buck’s breath ghosting across his face and he closes his eyes briefly, letting his head fall forward until he feels Buck’s forehead against his.

(no pressure) tagging @theotherbuckley @smilingbuckley @fruitandbubbles @eddiebabygirldiaz @fortheloveofbuddie @monsterrae1 @housewifebuck @disasterbuckdiaz @watchyourbuck @fionaswhvre @evanbegins @malewifediaz @callmenewbie @cal-daisies-and-briars @spagheddiediaz @incorrect9-1-1 @wildlife4life @daffi-990 @wikiangela @loserdiaz

#buddie #musician au #eddie diaz #evan buck buckely #911 abc #911 buddie #911verse #evan buckley #eddie x buck #911 fanfic #911 #buddie 911 #buddie fanfic #buddie fic #buddie au #911 fic #9 1 1 #911 fandom #911hiatus2023 #tease tidbit tuesday #wip #buddie ao3 #911 on ao3 #911 ao3 #buddie fanfiction #current wip

[ofnightshadeandthornyroses]

Don't Hide Pt 2

Paul x reader

"Look I just really don't know what to do with that, and what he said made it sound like he's a local or at least frequents the place." You sip your drink before flopping down on the bed, still clutching the phone and listening to you sister and her endless knowledge of the dating scene. "With what you said it sounds like he was interested in you. All those girls but still he stopped at you." A pause. "I mean he did say he hadn't seen you around so there's always that 'new shiny toy' factor, but!!" Your mind was racing. New shiny toy? I hadn't even thought about that! I was just to panicked that I actually flirted with someone somewhat successfully and they initiated it! "You could've caught his attention, you said he was pretty cute right?" Sounds of chips crunching on the other end interrupted your response of 'yeah' "So if you see him again, and if you want to, try and flirt with him again. See if he's interested. Anything else happen that wasn't on the carousel?" More crunching. Your finger was now curling and uncurling in the cord as you remember something at the end. "I guess? Maybe? After I left I looked back and he was with his friends but he was already looking at me but I might have done something before that, it's a little embarrassing..." "Go on!" The pleading demand coming out muffled through a mouth that was undoubtedly full of chips. "Before I told him not to hide, I kinda took his lollipop out of his mouth and after I sorta put it in mine in front of him?" The end of your retelling came out sounding more like a question and you could the sound of your sister inhaling and promptly choking on her chips. You didn't mean to kill her really. You grimace, "Sorry-" "Sorry? Why didn't you tell me this! Oh, you bold fucker! You definitely had to have hooked him a bit! If he doesn't come up to you he's fucking numb or shy from what you did. Please God or whomever the fuck let my sibling finally get someone or some action at least." "Oh my frog-" "No child you listen–" "I'm older tha-" "-you need to try to make a small a miniscule effort to talk to this guy. I'm talking at least eye contact, a smile, a wave, head tilt, whatever! Just something. Even a sign to him. You do this and it's a mile stone. You do this and you could do it again and build up to something more. Remember it's the anticipation of what hasn't happened that's scary." "So I do this and I can do anything? That's mighty cheesy" "I didn't say that. But you could build up to more. It certainly gets a little easier once you've done it. It was hard for me at first as well, but I had the advantage of semi-popularity and friends that would cheer me on and and we could laugh about it later. I know it's a little harder for you but remember you got yourself a personal cheerleader a phone call away." Laying on your side playing with the cord, a fond smile grew on your face. "Thanks sis, I really appreciate this. I probably would've been spiraling out of my head without you by now." "That's what I'm here for! I've got to go, but hey! You get ready and go out! FIND THAT MAN! Give a little smile and a wave, maybe a wink~." "Ughaagh!" "I love you, bye!" "Bye, love you." You put the phone back up and laid there for minute just looking at the wall not really seeing it, not even thinking. Then, your brain decided to start working on double time. If I do this would it actually go well? Would it go bad? He stayed looking yesterday. What does that even mean? Did you make a big mistake even looking at him? Did you do the stupidest thing in history by taking his candy? AND PUTTING IT IN YOUR MOUTH!? OH YOU DUMB FROGGER, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE! Maybe you should try? Maybe not, "no" or go "away" is NOT the worst he could say. Okay could it be that bad? He probably forgot about you, okay?

But the prospect of maybe having a someone made your heart feel like a ton of moths decided that it was their new home. You had always seen those couples on campus, one leaning on cars or walls wile the other leaned over them, making the other flustered or both laughing. Just thinking about maybe having a chance at that, having someone to fluster you or the other way around. Holding someone's hands because you could, holding them because you could, holding their face because–well.

This gave you a sense of anxious determination. With a hint of spite. You could never have something like that before, even when you tried. People were cruel, they hurt you, bones and shiny things couldn't hurt you. Maybe you would go, and maybe you would, if you saw him, smile and wave. This wasn't the campus or highschool, hell it's definitely not home. If you need to ignore him, you could. Why not? —•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•— So, you're here, and have been for about an hour before the sun finally started going down. This wouldn't be an issue at all except you've had an eye out for that pretty hurricane of blonde hair from the night before, and the anticipation of seeing them again slowly frying your nerves.

You stroll along some small stores, the chains on your boots and hip clinking as you walk. Eyes catching a shop advertising they sell 'Assortments for the damned', immediately interested you walk closer and open the glass door covered with a thick curtain.

Immediately you can see small weapons, jewelry, and crystals on a display case. Walking around there's discovered to be books on witchcraft, Satanism, the supernatural, apothecary, rituals, and beginners manuals. In the back left corner there's a display of sex toys and lingerie which is out numbered by the amount of fetish wear and toys for those obviously into more hard-core stuff that's right by it. There a section of actually weapons; swords, axes, hatchets, maces, flails, etc. Many intricately made or decorated with stones. Along side it was gardening supplies along with gas masks. Sections of fabric took up half a wall along with dried plants, pastes, and animal parts.

It felt like a play ground honestly. Maybe you would need to work on more crafts to sell, because you just might end up broke before you have to go back. But was it really your fault? You hadn't seen most of this stuff anywhere else and it was like putting live prey with a starving animal and asking it to wait a while more– cruel, tempting, and plain fucking stupid.

By the time you made it up to the front desk someone came stumbling out from behind a beaded curtain behind it. "Oh- Hi! Sorry it took a bit. Looking for anything in particular? Find anything you like?" Their short curly hair looked as if it's been through a storm and silver bangles clink on their hands. You find a name tag on their long apron which reads 'Andy–they/them'.

"I practically love everything here, I just might go broke if I can't find clients." They chuckle and push their glasses up their nose looking thoughtful. "Well it's great to hear you're enjoying the shop and as well as the clientele part, depending on what you sell we might be able to help with that. My boss tends to house and sell many locals wears for them here, only taking a small amount, on agreement of course, for the pay of the worker who helped sell it. I can give you a card if you'd like?"

You were struck dumb for a second almost refusing to believe your luck. This store, this store, could possibly house your crafts and you might actually be able to one–extend your stay and continue to hide from your parents and two–by something shiny when you wanted. You were baffled not stupid, also you were quiet and they were still looking at you. "Um, yes, oh frog. I definitely would like one, thank you!" Were you getting to loud, maybe a tad, but they giggled and put their finger up as they crouched down behind the counter.

"Give me just a moment. We don't keep my boss's cards up top for the taking so they tend to get pushed around." You left them to it and looked around the front counter, smaller concelable weapons made to look like other objects and just straight up decorated to look as pretty as they are painful make up a good amount of the displays. Andy popped back up holding a card like it was a prize ribbon as you were checking out what looked to be modified brass nuckles with jagged ends in shapes of animals, one even a Christmas tree.

"Here's her card, it has her number and mailing address, but please do call to set something up first. Oh, do you like those? We just got a new shipment in this morning! If you give me just a minute I can go get them right now!" They scurried through the curtain and back in less than a minute and set a medium box on the counter. After taking out a box cutter, they opened it and started taking out thin foam layers separating the metal peices and laying them out.

"Now these ones are our self defense keychains, they have holes for you to slip your fingers in similar to regular brass knuckles but with a nice sharp, cute twist." You scanned over the items feeling like a little kid all over again. Honestly, you didn't know what to do when she disappeared behind the curtain in search of the shipment, so in a mixed state of confusion and curious, you stated put. Oh are you glad you did. There were so many, moths, presents, birds, cats, hats. One that really caught your eye was the teeth. That not even the right word, right one would be fangs. The finger holes were in the gums and part of the other teeth in between the the sharpened teeth. There were blood marks on them as well, leading to believe what ever they're supposed to belong to fed on something with fresh blood. You had to have it. "Oh now this is extremely beautiful!" You said holding it up. "It is, and it definitely fits your little bat necklace. It's cute." The bat necklace in reference was the one from the night before. "We have other hidden weapons here too if you like to see." A very quick nod. "We have these necklaces over here that look like little hearts with daggers in them, which," Andy takes hold of one and pulls the blade out."They are. Then for wrists we have bands with daggers in intricate sheaths. They could look like decorations until you actual pull them out." Shiny, sharp, and pretty!  Your mind was probably breaking a sound barrier somewhere with how high pitched that came out in your own In the end you walked out with the fang keychain, a pair of arm bands, AND the necklace. Gosh you're asucker for shiny and sharp. You can't even blame Andy for your lack of self control, they were a great help and, really, were just doing their job. You fidget with the card in your hand a bit before finaly putting it in your bag. Passing by a food stand you see a container of bright candy in clear wrapping, lollipops, your brains supplies oh not so very helpfully. Did you decide you were gonna try? Yes, yes you did. Does that mean you're actually going to try and think about him the whole time when he already keeps constantly popping up and you have to constantly keep replaying the stunt you pulled. No, no you're not. And does this mean that because he keeps popping up in your head and making you feel more anxious and stupid by the second that in the end you might end up making a fool, tucking tail, and hauling ass? Uhhh- You were staring. The attendant was speaking. You hadn't even revised you had stopped. "I-I'm sorry, can you repeat that?" "I said," she looks exasperated already "Are you wanting one?" She had a pulled smile, the one you give customers when you want to add something else but you shouldn't. Just by her tone and expression you felt like you could hear the unsaid, "Or are you just going to block up the counter?" Feeling a bit embarrassed now you went went to say"No, sorry" but what came out was "Um, sorry, yes m-ma'am, cherry please. Thank you." This happened most times you were caught off guard, starring at something on a stand or store because you're either just in you're own mind or a memory. The embarrassment catches and usually ends with you buying whatever it was or doing a weird scurry of shame away.

Cherry wasn't even your favorite. Usually not even your top three choices, but you knew why you picked it. After your feet finally started moving again your brain, what was left of the flaming hot mush it had become, registered the flavor of the candy as cherry. It made sense really. You remember going over the memories before having the time to be properly mortified and remembering the way the sticky red residue you could see on his lips when you looked, shiny, pretty.

His teeth had a red sheen to it from the candy, even a little dribble of red dyed saliva could be seen at the corner of his mouth. Pretty. Shiny. He looked good with red. Reminds you of a glam rocker too. Oh frog.

You open the candy, plop it in then lean against a wall a couple feet into an alley to hopefully have a mental freak out in peace and not look like a total freak in public from going so far into your head. Glam rockers are shiny, and he's hot, and this is not helping. Seriously the intrusive thought of him in shiny red eyeshadow, hair all blown out, in shiny outfits with cut out and/or mesh, had you on your knees.

Like, actually, in the alley crouched down, head in your crossed arms, unable to stop the thoughts of a man who already had dressed like a hot punk, like a hot glam rocker, and now the thoughts are transforming saying 'hey you know, he'd look fucking hot if he was in a metal band'. The thought has you sinking lower on the ground, butt now firmly planted with your knees up so you can still successfully fold your arms on told and mock bury yourself a thoughts of glitter and tight outfits are joined by tight shiny leather, belts, spikes, and chains. The blown out hair stayed.

You stayed there for a while, tasting cherry and thinking, not relising that the very last light of sunset had finally passed, tuning out the foot traffic of the boardwalk, ignoring the way your butt and become numb and how your body tugged.

You tuned out this as well as the melodic sound of chains, boots, and rubbing leather. You didn't hear someone come into the alley or when they first said 'hey, sugar'.

Your brain only slightly registered the sound of chains hitting the ground. It completely registered the touch to your knee that your fairy skirt had had left bare, shocking your head up and into the chin of the unknown man who stumbled back from his crouch and landed on his rear.

You both groan, as you hold the top of your head and him his chin. "Damn sugar, didn't mean to scare you like that."

You look up finally noticing that this man isn't unknown at all, it's the man from before. Blown out blonde hair and blue eyes that were subjects of fantasies just moments before were in front of you, looking at you. You look down, not now, why now? "I'm sorry I didn't mean to hit you, didn't scare just, startled."

Trying to look everywhere but his face wasn't working. Today he was in his jacket from before and a band shirt, cut off and cut up, the jagged 'M' and 'A' being the only tell it used to say Matellica. The mesh shirt underneath it was pull tight by his position he was still in, legs spread and bent in criminally tight ripped jeans with chains and a fucking bondage belt.

Seriously why me, why you, why now!?  He's holding himself up with one hand behind him and the other rubbing at his chin though seeming distracted –and what is that look? Oh frog I've been staring-ogling! He saw that! Saw me! Of course he saw you you're faces are maybe three feet away maximum. But does that mean he was looking at me? Well you just hit his chin dingus. But why is he here? Um, He lives here? Maybe? I don't know? But why is he here, with me.

"Hey sweetness, you alive?"  You were staring, still. And he had that lazy smug grin on his face. Oh FROG. "Yeah, I'm alive." You say with absolute genius. Though in your defense you were also using about 90% of your brain power to be alive.

Flirting, interaction, crushes in general were never your strong suit. You always get flustered so easily, by the moment or your own thoughts. And being flustered leads to being embarrassed which leads to you fleeing or just silently standing there, awkwardly.

"Well that's great news sweetheart, hadn't been able to tell until you spoke up, those cute eyes of your staring my way. Would've thought you were a statue." He grins that grin and starts pushing himself more up.

What he says hits uou "sweetheart" "cute" "staring". You were staring. Oh f r o g. That feeling hits again, the one of embarrassment, your cheeks burning. "Im sorry, very sorry for your chin and staring." You start to turn the corner. Fleeing. You were fleeing.

Or was until you felt a hand tugged in your sleeve. You turn back and the he is with big blue eyes pand a slight confused look"No need to be sorry babe, where you going?" You look up at him "Away?" Not quite sure what's happening yourself. He pulls your sleeve, as well as you closer. "Well why that? Why don't we walk around see where to night takes us?" You didn't want to, not because of him, but you. Being by him made you anxious, his pretty face made you fidget nervously.

What if I mess it up, and he thinks I'm weird or disgusting? What if something goes wrong, there's so many people here? What if it goes great? Where do I go from there? Your sister voice filter through you brain. You won't know unless you try, something she's always saying, take a chance make a risk. If you never want to see him again you won't have to, live a little.

You get yourself together and look up at his waiting expression, "Yeah, I'd like too"

If you'd like to support a writer in desperate need of some tea and snack or you're interested in commissions from me dm me! Won't do smut.

https://cash.app/$BriarRoseLTD

#the lost boys x reader #the lost boys #fanfiction #fanfic #fiction #paul the lost boys #paul x reader #the lost boys x you #The reader is a mess #So am I #It fits #I need some blueberry tea so bad

[tickle-bugs]

Hellooo! If prompts are still open can I request some ticklish loki? :) maybe the prompt “ you’re not ticklish? Really now? Lets see about that”

Or somethin, feel free to improvise :))) teehee

Thank you so much!

In Fond Memory

Summary: As an analyst, Mobius's knowledge of Loki comes from stale sets of data. He wants to know more about his partner. Loki decides to take them on a tour of his memories...to interesting results. Pre-relationship to confessing Lokius!

This got wildly out of hand. We're a little over 6k words. Not super happy with this fic, but I'd been sitting on it for too long to start over. Have the long-simmering origin story of Loki's eighth rib lmao.

The TVA cafeteria is chilled and reliably empty when Mobius and Loki take their lunch break. As usual, the break consists of Loki watching Mobius eat--both lamenting his agonizing pace and soaking in his company. 

“I know nothing about you.” Mobius takes a thoughtful bite of his salad. His non-sequiturs phase Loki less and less these days. They make an interesting pair, he thinks--a fallen god burdened with caring and a mustached auditor who speaks only in riddles. 

“I thought you knew everything about me.” Loki huffs. 

“More like bits and pieces. I know little factoids. What makes you tick.” Mobius points at Loki with his fork, a tomato skewered on the end. 

“So then you know what you need?” Loki plucks the tomato off the fork and pops it in his mouth. It crunches beautifully. 

“Well, I mean, I’d like to know more. If a certain someone would like to share with the class.” Mobius replaces the stolen tomato with a pointed stare. 

“You are terrible at asking for what you want.” Loki steals a crouton from Mobius’s salad. 

“Yeah? Pot, meet kettle,” Mobius chuckles, wiping his hands. Loki smiles, but the thought rattles around in his brain. Mobius makes so much noise, truly. Noise about morals and fixing things, about proving himself better than the TVA believes him to be--useless, frivolous noise. 

Compelling noise.

“Fine.” Loki sniffs. He holds out his open hand. 

“Fine…What?” Mobius raises his eyebrows. 

“Your TemPad.” Loki wiggles his fingers insistently. Mobius stares at him, clearly calculating the risk, and then slides his TemPad into the waiting palm. Loki balances the weight of his past smoothly in one hand--he’d expected the TemPad to fall heavier with a sense of occasion. He frowns at it.

These little reminders that he’s not special—significant, really…they start to grate on him after a while. 

“You don’t have to do this, Loki.” Mobius’s voice is worn smooth by something like fondness. It’s compelling to the cowardice still within him, but Mobius will stop looking at him like that if he doesn’t at least try. 

Loki fiddles with the device until the clock hands on Ms. Minutes’s digital face spin rapidly backwards. A portal of orange light opens beside the table. 

“Shall we?” Loki gestures. He can’t quite make eye contact. 

…….

They stride through the door to Old Asgard’s throne room in all its glittering glory, when its majesty seemed untouchable by the whims of war and time. Mobius gapes at the high ceilings and intricate stonework with a wide grin. It’s cute, stupidly so, but then the grand doors open yet again and Loki’s hackles raise.

He pulls Mobius behind one of the grand pillars and puts his finger to his lips. 

“They can’t see us, Loki. It’s a memory—“

Loki clamps a hand over Mobius’s mouth. Mobius rolls his eyes. He’s right, of course he is, but the survivalist in him can’t take the risk. Not with Odin. 

A younger Loki, toothy and tiny, races up to Asgard’s great throne. He stops before the giant steps, cradling something in a bright red cloth. Odin heaves a great sigh. 

“Father, look! I got my spell to work!” Young Loki carefully holds up the bundle. The fabric falls away to reveal a bulbous little frog with stark blue eyes. It blinks each eye separately.

“What is this?” Odin looks down upon the creature with disdain. 

“It’s Thor.” Young Loki beams. The frog leaps onto his shoulder, then his head, and ribbits triumphantly. He laughs. 

“Bring my son back to me at once!” Odin hisses fiercely. 

“But—“

“Now!” Odin’s shout still tears something open in Loki all these years later. He flinches back into Mobius. The younger Loki does the same, but there’s no one to hold him. 

With a shaky voice, he murmurs an incantation and folds Frog Thor back into the fabric. He tosses the bundle ahead of him and, in a flash of green, a young and shiny Thor stumbles on newly human legs. He’s shorter--still taller than Loki, as he always was--and rounder in the cheeks, but he’s the unmistakable spitting image of his father. His cape, no longer frog-sized, unfurls to brush his ankles. 

“Woo! Loki, that was awesome!” Thor cheers. He pulls young Loki in for a sweeping, spinning hug. His boyish giggles are infectious--soon young Loki joins in, clinging to his brother to keep from falling. 

“Get out.” Odin seethes. The throne room doors slam open, echoing his command. 

“Father--” Thor tries, but one icy look from Odin silences him. He immediately bends the knee, so small that his cape nearly swallows him whole. Young Loki looks at him in disbelief, but when he reaches for his brother, Odin clasps his gloved hand around the shaft of Gungnir, the Spear of Heaven. 

Young Loki stumbles backwards, then flees, scrambling right by his older self without a thought. Loki turns his eye to Odin, the golden sack of shit, and scowls. 

“Come,” Loki says hollowly, following himself outside. He doesn’t look back. He knows Mobius is with him. 

He walks the familiar grounds but the stone doesn’t remember him. The sky is too bright, the torches too warm--this is a childhood preserved in amber. It’s too clear to be real. He passes his hand through the braziers, bitterly amused by the way the flame clings to his fingers. It’s not hot. 

Loki finds his younger self exactly where he expects him to be—no amount of years could erase that instinct to hide, to wait, to be forgotten until he could emerge again. The child is tucked between a pillar and one of the giant braziers, his dark clothes lending themselves as camouflage. 

Young Loki didn’t have that fire in him, yet. The scorn of being lesser. He was still naive, still thought Odin’s love was a real, attainable thing. 

“Loki?” Frigga approaches. Loki looks up at his mother’s face for the first time in years, but she peers directly through him. He steps aside as she approaches his younger self. When the child doesn’t answer, she crouches in front of him. It’s unbecoming of a Queen, but she’d never cared much about that. 

“What’s wrong, darling?” Frigga takes his younger copy’s face into her hands. She wipes away his tears with her thumbs and his skin briefly shimmers its natural blue. 

“Father, he…” Young Loki shakes his head, retreats further. “I upset him.”

“Oh.” She swipes more tears from his face. “Let us spend the day together, hm? I have new tricks to show you.”

The child allows his mother to lead him away, down onto the giant lawn beneath the terrace. Loki watches them go, the bitter sting of grief still raw, even after all this time. 

“My mother was…is everything to me.” Loki sniffs. He can’t tear his eyes away from her. It’s selfish to miss her, but he’s a selfish wretch. 

“She seems like a wonderful woman.” Mobius’s hand is warm on Loki’s shoulder. He leans into it. 

“Extraordinary. There’s no one like her.” He leads them over to a bench on the terrace, one that overlooks the most spectacular view of the palace lawns and waters beyond. He watches his younger self fling bursts of magic back and forth with his mother. 

“Can I ask you a silly question?” Mobius turns to face Loki better. Loki raises his brow. 

“Are you still…blue? Under here?” Mobius gestures at Loki’s face. “I’m not too sure about how this magic stuff works. It’s fascinating.”

Loki barks out an embarrassing laugh and does his best to rein it in, but surprise still leaves him chuckling. Mobius looks at him like…well, he’s not entirely sure what that look is. No one’s looked at him so softly before. 

“I was raised Asgardian, but the nature of changing forms is…fickle. Do it too much and you lose sight of where you start.” He turns his hand over, back and forth, and his skin glimmers blue. Mobius takes his hand, wrinkling his nose slightly at the cold. 

“That’s awful wise of you.” Mobius squeezes his fingers. 

“I like to think I have my moments.” Loki smiles. Mobius holds out the TemPad to him. Loki pushes a few things on it, opening another portal. They step through it with lighter hearts. 

…

What greets them is not the stale brutalism and dizzying expanse of the TVA cafeteria, but the very same terrace, gleaming in summer sun.

“Okay, so this…isn’t headquarters.” Mobius gestures. Loki scowls. He presses a bunch of buttons at random. The machine beeps at him. The animated Ms. Minutes icon sticks her tongue out at him. He scoffs. 

“I noticed.” He slaps the TemPad into Mobius’s hands. Mobius stares at him, plainly amused, and Loki scowls harder. 

“Well? Fix it.” Loki turns towards the lawn to lessen the weight of Mobius’s gaze.

A great shout rings out across the green, utterly unmistakeable, and Loki runs up to the terrace railing. Sif and the Warriors Three mill about on the lawn, their chatting only perceptible by Volstagg’s loud and grating laughter. 

“Brothers, please. I need some help!” Thor’s voice cuts clear and desperate through the air. He can’t be far past coming of age--he’s taken on all those distinctive features that won’t budge as he grows. His hair sweeps his shoulders the same way his cape sweeps his ankles. He supports a drooping teenage Loki as they stumble towards the trio. 

On the terrace, Loki’s eyes widen. He squints at where Thor is hauling his younger self--yep, the little shit is definitely alive and well. Which means only one thing. 

“What’s all the commotion?” Mobius shades his eyes from the sun and looks out towards the fields. 

“Did you fix it?” Loki snaps impatiently, gesturing for the TemPad. 

“Hm?” Mobius blinks. “Yeah. What’s happenin’ down there, though?”

Loki snatches the TemPad and punches in whatever he can. A wave of orange energy ripples over and through them with a loud woosh. Loki opens his eyes to….

The same field. The same day. He’s actually managed to put them forward in time. Just splendid. 

“Get help!” Thor spins and launches his Loki like a shotput. He barrels straight through Sif and Fandral. Their mingled screams of surprise and displeasure ring out. Thor cackles, doubling over, as Sif chases Loki around the field. 

On the terrace, Loki buries his rapidly heating face in his hands. Mobius snickers up a storm beside him. He leans into him for support. 

“Get help?” Mobius wheezes, eyes wet with mirth. Loki’s chest flutters and his face progresses into full redness. 

“It was…a phase. An ill-advised distraction--”

“Seems to me like you used it plenty. One of your variants did that with Thor on Sakaar.” Mobius wipes his eyes and flicks the tears away, grin still splitting his face in two. 

“Shut up.” Loki groans into his hands until silence falls. He can feel Mobius’s keen eyes on the side of his face. He hopes for a random bolt of lightning to put him out of his misery. 

“You’ve changed, y’know.” Mobius bumps their shoulders together. 

“Have I?” Loki drawls, mostly unamused. The sincerity on Mobius’s face makes it hard to keep up the act. 

“You willingly showed me an embarrassing memory! You’ve changed plenty.” 

“I wouldn’t say…willingly,” Loki grumbles, rolling his eyes. 

“You and I both know you can fight a lot harder than that. This is growth, Loki. It’s good for ya.” Mobius pats his shoulder. Loki hums in acknowledgment.

“Careful, Mobius. I might start to think you’re fond of me.” Loki smiles teasingly. 

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” Mobius chuckles and squeezes his shoulder. “Let’s get outta here.”

…

Another flash of orange, another failure to return to the TVA. Loki contains the urge to scream. 

“Where are we now?” Mobius puts his hands on his hips. 

“…I don’t know.” Loki frowns, turning in place. 

“That’s generally not good.” Mobius quips. Loki makes a snarky, incoherent noise at him as he takes in their surroundings.

Vaulted wood ceilings, immaculate stone walls, and green silks welcome them. Atop a giant fireplace, a regal painting of Loki leers at them, foxlike and empty-eyed. He cringes and turns away from it. He briefly considers throwing himself down on the green velvet divan and smothering himself in the throw pillows. 

“We’re on Asgard, certainly, and this is my room, but….” 

The doors fly open of their own accord and the hearth flares. A brunette with a strong build strides through the doors, their fingertips dripping with red motes of light. They’re clad in reds reminiscent of the magic--flowing fabrics gathered neatly under bits of strong leather armor. With a twist of their wrist, the leather breastplate falls away and arranges itself on a stand, right next to a stand with his own armor on it. 

“Who is this handsome devil?” Mobius raises his eyebrows and elbows Loki, but he is far too windswept at the sight of them. 

“Signy,” Loki breathes. 

“Who?” Mobius furrows his brow. 

The doors fly open yet again. A past version of Loki enters in similar dramatic fashion. It’s uncanny to see himself like this. Signy turns their gaze sharply towards him. The fire once again flares in the hearth. 

“Hello, darling.” Signy purrs, pulling Past Loki in for a kiss. They drink him in possessively, as if he’s going to evaporate without their claiming touch. He leans into it as much as he can without drowning. When they pull apart, they murmur to one another, low enough for the fire to swallow their words. 

“Ah, I see.” The bitterness in Mobius’s tone pushes Loki to clarify. 

“They were wonderful, but their jealousy often got to them. For all our happiness, we made each other worse over time.” Loki whispers conspiratorially, but Mobius doesn’t seem entertained. 

Signy and his past self begin to raise their voices, yelling at each other in an incomprehensible tumble of Asgardian. Mobius’s brow knits in concern. 

“Were you always this…loud?” Mobius frowns. Loki swallows the joke he wants to make.

“Like I said, we made each other worse. Much worse. We were betrothed all of two months before they tried to assassinate me.” Loki pulls back his shirt collar to reveal a thin, curved scar on his neck. 

“Assassinate—what?” Mobius touches it and Loki shivers. 

“It’s fine, Mobius. My Signy had naught but poison in their soul. This one seems…kinder.” Loki watches as they take his past self’s hands to stop him from wringing his tunic. 

“How is that fine—“ 

Their voices escalate into a tumble of shouting. Concern morphs into frustration and confusion. Why does Mobius even care? It happened, he survived, whatever—

A flash of movement out of the corner of his eye. His past self is…staring at him.

Loki squints at his past self and he squints back. Loki looks over his shoulder, then back at his past self, who is suddenly beginning to behave less like a memory and more like a—

“Variant,” Loki breathes. He opens his mouth to shout, but—

The variant disappears in a gentle flash of green light. Fuck.

“I think you just got outsmarted by yourself.” Mobius hums. Loki whips around, panic starting to bubble in his chest. 

“You said this was a memory.”

“It’s supposed to be.” Mobius rubs his chin. “With all the buttons you pushed, it’s possible that you sent us to a branch instead of a projection of your history. I’ll take a look at it.”

“Loki.” Signy eyes him carefully. They take him in with warm, red eyes that crackle with the hearth. 

“Heyyy…Signy.” Loki gestures awkwardly. Mobius snorts. 

“Darling, I apologize. You’re under much pressure.  I shouldn’t add to it.” Signy wraps their arms around Loki’s shoulders and pulls him close. He knows he should derive some comfort from it—he hasn’t been hugged in years—but it feels more like a creature pulling him into its clutches. Their fingers glide over the scar and Loki snatches their hand. 

“I’m…also sorry.” Loki pats their arm awkwardly and tries to worm out of their grip. 

“No need, my blade.” Signy presses in closer, cradling his cheek. Mobius snickers at the nickname off to the side.

“Don’t.” Loki, blushing, points an accusatory finger at Mobius. He holds his hands up, the perfect picture of innocence. 

“I think you’re lovely, but I’m not…your Loki.” He puts his hand over theirs. Their face pinches sharply. The fire kicks up. 

“You are beyond ungrateful. You are mine. I made you.” Signy grips his chin and forces him to look at them. Loki presses his lips into a line. 

“Signy—“

“Perhaps you need a reminder.” They press their hand to Loki’s side, right over the ribs on his right side. He panics and grabs for their hand. A tiny green spark jumps from his fingers, but it cannot stop the pulse of scarlet magic that wriggles deep into his skin. The magic snaps into cords, winding like puppet strings around one of his ribs. 

A strangled sound slips from him before he can stop himself. A terrible, toe-curling tickle—a powerful scritching like the blunt end of a quill over the bone—sends him clutching at Signy’s shoulders for dear life. 

“We are each other’s undoing. There is no you without me.” Signy pulls sharply on the threads of red light and Loki yelps.

“Oh.”

“Mobius—“

“Oh my god.” Mobius makes a noise that can only be described as a squeak of delight. Loki flips him off. 

“Even when I’m right in front of you, you cast your attention elsewhere.” Signy turns Loki’s jaw toward them, eyes darkening possessively, but their lips curl up in that damn smile that had drawn Loki back in over and over. 

There was a time when he’d daydreamed about Signy by his side on the throne. Now, he can’t fathom it. 

“You’re mine, Loki.” Signy tweaks their fingers, manipulating their magic, and Loki chokes down a screech. He laces his fingers into theirs and the magic blissfully vanishes. 

“Yes, yours. Mobius, help.” Loki casts a frantic look in his direction, gesturing at Signy. Mobius makes a ‘stall’ motion, then starts fiddling with the TemPad. 

“Look at me.” Signy pulls sharply on his tie. They sigh deeply, and their edge begins to wane. 

“Thanos has you dreaming of more, my love. I want more for you. But have you not enough here? Am I not enough?” Signy smooths their hands down Loki’s chest. He freezes.

“Thanos?” He asks quietly. Dread sinks into his gut. Signy’s expression softens.

“I know that you crave what you are owed. Your family has robbed you of your birthright. You are meant for greatness, Loki, but not at the cost of his greed. Asgard is yours for the taking. By my hand, you shall have it.” Signy leans their foreheads together. He squirrels away as much of this momentary comfort that he can. 

“Why would you help me?”

“Have you contracted your brother’s oafishness?” Signy playfully holds their hand to his forehead as if checking for fever. “I love you, you fool.” 

“Oh.” He blinks. He looks towards Mobius and finds him with a haunting expression, like some sort of ache had burrowed forth into his face. A suffocating hollowness crawls through Loki’s chest. He swallows thickly. 

“Yes, ‘oh’.” Signy curls their fingers beneath his chin. He laughs softly, involuntarily, and flinches away. Mischief and embers dance in Signy’s eyes. 

“My, you are…handsier than I remember.” Loki twists out of their grip. 

“Can you blame me?” They appear behind him in a scattering of red sparks. Warm hands wrap around his waist, tracing feather-light shapes that seem to burrow into his skin. He chokes on a quiet, suspiciously giggly sound and they light up.

Mobius scoffs and clears his throat loudly. His scowl seems baked into his face, a chilling force against the fireplace. 

“Okay, so I’ve got good news and bad news. Which one do you wanna hear?”

“Bad news first.” Loki wrestles with Signy’s roaming hands. Signy trips and tumbles backward onto the divan, scattering the pillows. They start tugging at Loki to try and get him to follow. 

“Your collar is broken. Kaput. S’probably why your variant was able to escape. TemPad can’t get a read on which one of you is real. You also MemLocked us, which is fascinating—“

“I’m sure it is,” Loki huffs, fighting to leverage Signy under him. Mobius barrels on. 

“MemLock allows us to manipulate a branch as if it were a memory, but the tech is volatile, so we rarely use it. It is neat though. Lets us walk right through as if we were invisible. Shame it ain’t workin’ on you.” Mobius snaps his fingers next to Signy’s face. They don’t seem to notice. 

“And the good news?” 

“I can probably fix it.” Mobius smacks the back of the TemPad and a panel pops out the side of it. He starts fiddling with the components. 

“Probably?” Loki’s voice cracks. 

“Well, I don’t wanna take the wrong Loki back with me. That’d be a fiasco. Though Signy—“ Mobius draws out their name with disdain— “probably wouldn’t even notice.” 

“Jealousy is unbecoming, Mobius.” Loki’s joking, but Mobius’s eyes don’t light up the way they usually do. 

“Y’know, far as I recall, you got yourself stuck in this mess. You should be thanking me for helping you.” Mobius puts his hands in his pockets. He tilts his head with a smile, easy and mischievous. Loki lobs a throw pillow at him.

Mobius punches something into the TemPad and, with a glorious beep, Loki’s collar disengages and clatters to the floor. Mobius scoops up the collar gently, letting the straps dangle between his fingers. 

“I’m keeping track of what you owe me.” His half-smile is somewhat dim. 

“I’d expect nothing less,” Loki breathes. Mobius nods sharply and turns towards the door. 

It’s an unfortunate distraction, one that lets Signy discover they can buckle his knees if they tickle him there, but Loki can think of nothing else but the reflection of the firelight on Mobius’s cheek. 

…

Mobius ducks quietly into the hall, shutting the chamber door behind him. The stone floors eagerly amplify his footsteps, tired of its own quiet. 

It’s unsettling, this place. People don’t seem to live here as much as they haunt it. Mobius can see how Loki turned out the way he did. It sets loose an ache in him. 

“Stop.” 

Mobius turns around with his hands raised. The variant twirls a dagger in his hands. He’s clad only in a green shirt and soft pants, his feet bare against the cool stone floors. This Loki is duller—he’s exhausted around the eyes in a way Mobius’s Loki isn’t. 

His Loki. Hm.

“Who are you?” 

“I’m afraid that doesn’t concern you, Your Highness,” Mobius says calmly. Loki disappears in a flash of green and reappears behind Mobius. 

“I could have you executed.” Loki’s dagger materializes across the plane of Mobius’s throat. Mobius tips his head back slightly to avoid the sharp edge. 

“I’m not scared of you, Loki.” He says it firmly, even as his skin prickles at the kiss of the blade. 

“Maybe you should be,” he snarls lowly, his lips brushing Mobius’s ear. Mobius flinches away. He kicks himself for it--Loki follows him easily with morbid interest. 

“Aren’t you curious about what I know?” Mobius hums. Silence stretches down the long hall. There’s a suspicious lack of guards in this wing. Is Loki’s chamber not worth protecting?

“You have a…clone of me. Why?” The blade presses in again. Mobius takes a careful, measured breath. 

“He’s my companion. We took a bit of a tumble, ended up in the wrong place.” A smile quirks at Mobius’s lips. Loki doesn’t look as confused as he thought he might—more…thoughtful. 

“Wrong place being?”

“That I can’t tell you. I can tell you that we’re trying to leave. If you don’t mind.” Mobius puts two fingers on the dagger and gently pushes it away from his throat. Loki releases Mobius but keeps his blade leveled at him. He’s tired, so tired, Mobius can see it in his bones. His eyes, dark-rimmed, seem frightened of closing. 

“You, uh…” Mobius pauses, taking in Loki’s twitchiness-- “I noticed you tryin’ to escape your beau in there. Signy, right?”

Loki stiffens at the utterance of their name. The blade remains steadfastly pointed at Mobius’s throat. 

“They ever hurt you?” Mobius clenches his jaw. Loki eyes him warily. 

“No. Never. Never.” The blade wavers with Loki’s voice. “But we don’t…agree on many things.”

“Well, I think you could do better. For the record.” Mobius steps forward—how could he not? But Loki’s knife and hackles meet him. He stops. 

“I’ll be sure to tell them you said so.” The fingers on Loki’s other hand twitch, glowing the faintest green. 

“You fancy making a deal, Your Highness?” Mobius sticks his hands in his pockets. He tries to keep his demeanor light, but he clasps his hand around the collar where it’s hidden. 

“I’m listening.” Loki shifts his fingers on the dagger’s hilt. 

“My Loki and I will distract Signy for you if you stay with us long enough for us to secure an exit.” Mobius jerks a thumb in the direction he came from. Loki follows the movement with his eyes. 

“All you require is my presence?”

“That and preferably that you refrain from using that toothpick of yours. Rather fond of my Loki.” Mobius inclines his head towards the knife. A wealth of emotions flickers across Loki’s face--he’s always been terrible at hiding his feelings, it seems. He tries to steel himself back into something sharp, but it just turns…sad. 

Loki lowers his blade. He loosens his fingers and it falls, but it vanishes before it hits the ground. 

“I agree to your terms.” Loki sniffs sharply, once again locating his arrogance.

“Excellent. Shall we?” Mobius gestures. Loki nods. They stroll back towards the bedchamber, relishing in the quiet comfort of their footsteps falling in line. 

“What are you to him? To me?” Loki’s voice goes soft. Mobius is usually quite adept at compartmentalizing, but it escapes him at this moment. 

“I’m not sure.” Mobius swallows. It’s easier not to think about it. 

“But you’re fond of him, as you said.” Loki sweeps closer, a familiar teasing grin playing across his lips. 

“I am.” Mobius huffs. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“The honor’s all yours, mortal.” Loki tilts his head, his smile growing wider. Mobius rolls his eyes. 

…

Mobius opens the door for the variant and they’re greeted by a wall of noise. Loki screams bloody murder and Signy yells over him in Asgardian, their sharp fingernails plucking at his ribs. They’ve switched positions, with Signy expertly pinning and tickling Loki down into the divan. 

The variant snickers, covering his mouth to hide it, but Mobius’s ears have long-since been tuned to his partner’s laugh. Interestingly enough, Signy looks up too. They furrow their brow as if searching for something, eyes glazing right past their variant, and then return to taking Loki apart.

An idea prickles at the back of Mobius’s mind. 

“You.” Loki shouts from the tip of his toes. His hair is a frizzy, disheveled mess. The variant goes to run, but Mobius scruffs him by the collar.

“You okay over there?” Mobius calls. Loki’s red face grows redder. He points angrily at the variant. 

“Come take your place, you sniveling little brat—“ Loki hisses, but he’s cut off by Signy tickling his waist. The most hysterical little giggles slip free and he buckles under them. 

“I’m afraid I can’t help you. That weakness is your plague to bear, not mine.” The variant’s regret is all mocking. 

It’s a stupid idea, but it’s an insistent one—the longer Mobius gazes at this variant, the more he finds that he can’t let it go.

“Sorry, just to clarify—you’re not ticklish?” Mobius doesn’t bother to hide his amusement. The variant eyes him stubbornly. 

“No. I’m not a child.” Oh, but like with every Loki, his eyes betray him. 

“Well, that’s a shame.” Mobius regards him thoughtfully. The variant turns a lovely pink. “Then, would you mind asking Signy to release my friend? Seeing as they pose no threat to you.”

Mobius crowds in closer. The variant pulls his dagger. Mobius tuts at him and pushes it away. The dagger’s point makes gentle, insistent contact with his stomach.

“This wasn’t part of the deal,” the variant snaps, but Mobius stands before him un-stabbed. 

“Sure it was. I said we would distract Signy.” Mobius smirks. “Just never said that you were part of the distraction.”

God, Loki is really rubbing off on him. 

“I’ve been told I’m quite stabbable, if you’re not amenable.” Mobius gestures to the dagger between them. The variant shifts his fingers on the hilt. 

“D-Don’t you dare touch him!” Loki pipes up through gritted teeth. He’s managed to pin Signy underneath him, but judging by his twitching, they’re not quite done with him.

Mobius grins at him. Loki makes an endearing little pinchy face and refuses to meet his eyes. The variant takes the chance to try and slink away, but Mobius grabs his wrist. The dagger disappears in a flare of green sparks. 

In a slick maneuver, Mobius loops the collar around the variant’s neck and it magnetically fastens. It beeps in confirmation of acquiring its target. 

“What is this?” He hisses, tugging at it. He flexes his fingers, calling for the dagger, and nothing happens.

“Just a bit of insurance. Now, would you like to deal with them—“ Mobius gestures to where Signy is wreaking havoc— “or me?” 

“I’m sure there’s a third option.” The variant chuckles almost nervously. His eyes dart around for an escape. 

“Oh, no. I don’t think so.” Mobius sighs deeply, as if it pains him. The variant’s eyes widen, and—

There it is. A flicker of thrill. 

“If you think you can stand to a god, I welcome you to try.” The variant spreads his arms wide. Mobius puts his hands on his hips. He’s never considered himself a particularly great fighter, but he prides himself on knowing his targets well. For example, he knows that nearly every Loki lacks small-scale patience. If he just waits…

The variant snarls and charges. Mobius ducks past him and loops his arms around his torso. 

Any Loki is deadly with or without their magic, but thankfully Mobius doesn’t have to worry about killing him. Or harming him at all, for that matter.

The variant lets out a confused, almost-offended squeak, like a kitten being bested. Before he can speak, Mobius starts clumsily tickling him. The resulting stilted laughter is interspersed with threats he can’t understand--both for being peppered with giggles and incoherent Asgardian. The variant tries to headbutt him in a way that doesn’t seem entirely on purpose. Mobius dodges predictable flying elbows and waits.

Over on the divan, Loki’s mostly given up. He’s wheezing more than anything, more focused on hiding himself from view than doing anything helpful. The quiet allows for the variant’s patchwork laughter to carry, just as Mobius hoped. He folds on a particularly powerful guffaw and Mobius follows him with a snort. S’cute, sometimes, the ways in which they’re the same. 

Signy’s gaze snaps up. Loki squirms out from underneath them and darts to the other side of the room, clutching his side. He makes eye contact with Mobius. His gaze is so full of sheer fondness that Mobius has to look away. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” The variant tries to back up. Mobius squeezes his side and he yelps.  

“How’d you get over there?” Signy narrows their eyes. 

“Suppose I’m quicker than you.” The variant falls immediately into his role, ever the Loki. Mobius curls his finger into the collar and it disengages. The variant whirls on him, but then Signy starts to stalk across the room. 

“We’ll see about that, love.” Signy’s tongue curls sharply around the word. The variant bolts for the door. Signy laughs and chases after them. Their footsteps echo down the empty hall and carry them both from sight. 

A wave of green magic slams the door shut so hard that it rattles in its frame. Loki hefts a bookshelf in front of the door, then a heavy chest, then about every piece of furniture he’s capable of moving in the room. He slumps down onto the divan with a heavy sigh. Mobius hovers by his side, shoving his hand in his pocket so he doesn’t start fiddling with the disheveled bits of Loki’s appearance. 

“Well, come on then.” Loki bares his throat with an impatient gesture. There’s an imprinted red line where the collar usually sits. Mobius runs his thumb over it, gently, and Loki scrunches his nose with a smile. The sight is so lovely that Mobius spaces out a bit. 

“You are cruel and terrible, you know that?” Loki grumbles. Mobius remembers himself and tries not to savor the brush of Loki’s jaw against his fingers. He holds the transmitter box of the collar to Loki’s throat, scooting it around a bit in search of a signal. Loki twitches. 

“Mmm, just the worst. Stay still, will ya?” He huffs. Something in Loki’s collar clicks and the TemPad chirps a jolly tune. Both of them sigh in relief. 

Mobius punches in a few things and the familiar orange door opens up before them. He looks down at the collar in his hand, then shoves it deep into his pocket. Loki makes a soft noise. 

“Why?” He blinks almost innocently. Mobius swallows. 

“You wanna go back or not?” He juts his thumb towards the portal. Loki pulls him through as if it’s going to disappear. 

…

They have duties to complete, but living so many years in a day has thoroughly eroded what tiny sense of duty Loki has. His mind is abuzz with various iterations of he trusts me--a new and exciting thought--and it leaves him with zero desire to do anything but sit in Mobius’s presence like a flower in the sun. 

So, when Mobius heads for the library, Loki hooks their arms together and drags them towards the cafeteria. Responsible grumbling turns into fond chuckles, and soon enough, they’re assembling God's mistake: frozen yogurt.

They enjoy their spoils on a bench deep in the massive sprawl of the TVA. The complex sprawls out infinitely before them, twinkling in the abyss. It’s a prettier sight than this place deserves, but Loki can only pay attention to the unnatural strawberry hue of Mobius’s lips. 

“This is awful,” Mobius laughs, cringing through a spoonful of frozen-solid chocolate chips. 

“It’s perfect. Completely mediocre in every way. Humanity’s only worthwhile creation.” Loki bites a gummy worm in half with a smile. He offers the other half to Mobius and he takes it.

Loki thinks of Signy, of the look of muddled pain on Mobius’s face through the entire back half of their misadventure, and he cringes. Mobius pauses in picking at his froyo. 

“Brainfreeze?” 

“No, not quite. I want to…apologize, Mobius.” Loki fiddles with his fingers. He looks up just in time for the back of Mobius’s hand to gently slap against his forehead, as if checking for fever. 

“You? Apologize? Maybe I did bring back the wrong Loki.”

“Hilarious, you bastard.” Loki rolls his eyes and bats away the hand. 

“Well, don’t let me get in the way of history. Say your piece.” Mobius sweeps his hands out. Loki turns to straddle the bench, facing him fully. He leans his back against the wall. The cold of the concrete leeches through his shirt. 

“Earlier, things got…out of hand. I hoped if I showed you my past, you might find some detail, some tiny minutiae that would set me apart from the other variants. But, I suppose nothing you saw surprised you.” Loki runs his fingers over his throat, right where the collar usually sat. He felt lighter without it and, strangely, more exposed. 

“I wouldn’t say that.” Mobius mumbles around a strawberry piece. 

“I spent my life chasing after destiny. Everyone in my family had a grand purpose to fulfill, and I believed mine would be the greatest of all. Now I know that my destiny is to be disposable. The only significant thing I’m part of is the time I’ve spent here with you.” Loki pokes at his froyo with the spoon. Mobius swings to also straddle the bench, grumbling as he does, but it gets Loki’s attention. 

“I’ve got my own confession to make.” Mobius chuckles. “I don’t actually know everything about you.”

“We established this.” Loki scoops up an Oreo piece and pops it in his mouth. 

“Well, yeah, but—“ Mobius makes a series of grand gestures— “I mean, I don’t know everything about you, Loki.”

“Now you’ve said the same thing twice.” Loki frowns. Mobius makes a frustrated little noise.

“Look, you’re different. Sure, your story starts the same as the others, but you overwrote my expectations the moment we met. You are unique. You’re a unique pain in my ass, really, but…you’re a good partner. A great one.” Mobius gestures more with his spoon. 

“Go on.” Loki takes the cherry into his mouth, stem and all. A few moments later, he pulls out the stem—tied in a perfect knot. He smiles at his handiwork. 

“I’m trying to compliment you.” Mobius huffs. 

“I’m aware.” Loki grins teasingly, but the mischief caves easily under a wave of genuine joy. 

“Alright, wise guy.” Mobius narrows his eyes. A flutter of thrill picks up in Loki’s stomach, but no chase ensues. He tries not to be disappointed. 

“What I’m trying to get at—“ Mobius huffs dramatically— “is that it’s not your past that makes you. I’ve always studied you guys in patterns and matrixes. I thought a flip would switch and I’d understand how you fell into my lap instead of any other Loki. But…you defy sense. Turns out, you can bake some drastically different cakes with the same core ingredients.” 

“Careful, Mobius,” Loki says softly, so his traitorous heart doesn’t hear. “I might start to think you’re fond of me.”

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” Mobius smiles. 

“No, we can’t.” Loki’s eyes flit to Mobius’s lips. The air between them pulls taut. Loki scoots forward, bringing their knees to touch. 

“You have something on your face, right here. Terribly distracting.” Loki gestures to his lips. Mobius furrows his brow and pats his face with a TVA-branded napkin. Loki bats his hand aside and kisses him. It’s shorter and tamer than what his heart screams for, but he can’t dive into untested waters. Not yet. Not with something so important. 

Mobius, wide-eyed, follows Loki’s every move. He swallows once, thickly, then clears his throat. Not a single coherent word comes out of his mouth. His eyebrows move in nearly every direction as he tries to string some words together. Loki tips his chin up, catching his eyes. Mobius quiets, succumbing to a lovestruck smile.

“Did you get it?” Mobius gestures to his face. Loki laughs, knocking his head into the wall behind him. Mobius scrambles forward to catch him far too late, but they’re close. Close enough for Loki to see the pink froyo flecks actually hiding in his mustache. He smirks. 

“Hm, only one way to be sure.” He pulls Mobius in by his tie and kisses him like it's the end of times.

#my fics #loki #lokius #ticklish!loki #*sigh* #much like with my other loki fics this didn't turn out at all how i wanted. and its way too long. but i hope ppl still like it. #i love writing them so much but i struggle to write tk stuff around them. #just UGH posting it and moving on. writing is hard :( #sorry to be a downer in the tags lmao

[lavendarlily]

8 GOLDEN TWINKIE with drunk Danny insert hmm frog

i wanted to make this longer and funnier but the brain worms are underground rn so enjoy short and wholesome

8. squeezing hand for comfort and encouragement

cw: brief description of vomiting

“Daaaaaash,” Danny whined, as he sauntered over to the boy who was in the middle of a conversation with friends. He leaned his body into his boyfriend’s, letting his weight settle on the much larger (stronger) boy, his limbs becoming jell-o. 

Dash readjusted his weight, never faltering against Danny’s small frame. A broad arm wrapped itself around his shoulders and pulled him into Dash’s chest. Danny drank in his cologne and embraced the warmth of his boyfriend’s body.

The group carried on the conversation as if Danny’s sudden appearance was no reason to interrupt. He didn’t care anyways - he was so drunk that their words sounded like a foreign language - and he spoke ghost. Wait, were they speaking ghost too? Maybe he should try contributing after all.

Danny said something along the lines of “My boyfriend has more defined abs than yours,” at which the conversation stopped and the collective group stared at Danny with confusion and concern. Oh no. Did he upset them? Was that the wrong thing to say?

“Was that supposed to be English?” one of them said.

Oh. Maybe they weren’t speaking ghost. Maybe Danny was much drunker than he thought. 

Dash sighed, then looked down at Danny fondly. “Looks like I need to get this one home. I’ll see you guys later.”

A chorus of good-byes echoed as Dash pulled Danny along through the crowd and out into the fresh night air. Next thing he knew he was on cold tile, staring down into a toilet that he recognized as his own. When did they get back to Danny’s? How did they get back to Danny’s?

Those thoughts disappeared as he felt his stomach lurch, and Danny got a second taste of everything he’d consumed at the party. At some point, he realized there were hands in his hair, holding his bangs back from getting caught in the mess.

Once he was done, Danny slumped backwards, and found himself against another body. He raised his head and found Dash staring back down at him. The other boy reached for the roll of toilet paper and tore off a piece to softly wipe at Danny’s face. 

“Ungh. I’m…sorry,” Danny managed to mumble.

A firm hand found his own, giving it a gentle squeeze. “You’re fine Danny. Everything’s fine.” Dash laughed. “You probably won’t even remember this tomorrow morning.” 

“Are your friends mad at me?” he slurred.

Dash cocked his head. “Why would they be mad?”

“B’cuz…I said you got better abs than them…”

A hearty laugh reverberated through Dash’s chest, jolting Danny a bit more than he could handle at the moment. 

“Danny, no one had any fucking clue what you were saying. It was just a mumble of weird sounds.” Dash rubbed his thumb across Danny’s hand. “But thank you for the compliment,” he added. 

“I’m drunk.”

His boyfriend laughed again. “I know. That’s the last time I let you near jell-o shots for a while.”

Danny whined. “I like jell-ooooooo. ‘S so…good. ‘Specially the lime. Looks like ectoplasm. Spooky.” He then proceeded to make soft ghost noises to prove his point, just in case Dash didn’t understand. He felt something bubble up inside him at the end of one of his “Woooo’s” and scampered back towards the toilet. A hand returned to his hair, while another gently massaged circles into his back. 

“It’s okay Danny. Get it all out,” Dash comforted. 

Danny’s head swam, his stomach empty but still wanting to purge his body of the alcohol in his system. 

Stupid jell-o.

#danny phantom #lavswordvomit #golden twinkie #dash baxter #golden twinkie propaganda #i think i've written drunk danny more than anyone else in this fandom #is that all i'm good for?

[box-of-chaooos]

I can’t remember who gave me this prompt but thank you tysm!!

Stuck on the bus and this caught my eye so let’s go

Any adaption but I’ll be writing in the 1986 ver

The emerald city, a sparkling palace of peace and wonder that sat in the centre of oz, ruled by the kind and wise king who was recently crowned, king scarecrow. The straw man was a wonderful king and made all the people happy as could be but he was bored. Bored out of his new mind it wasn’t as fun as he’d imagined it to be it was much slower, much much slower. Nothing new ever happened no excitement no action, sure it wasn’t a terrible thing it made the working system smooth and well oiled but dull as could be.

At the moment the king was going through old possessions of the wizard, left behind trinkets and inventions piled up in the other room, there was bound to be something interesting there. He searched through many chests finding boxes some empty some filled with little bits and bobs, one had a little wooden horse to make inside. He found puzzle boxes and sparkling jewellery some of which he put on just for the fun of it, admiring himself in the mirror with a giggle but nothing was very attention keeping or eye catching. He needed a book, a nice big interesting book to read with action and drama something adventurous to make him new brain fizzle with pictures and imaginary scenes of the book turning words into pictures. He settled on the idea and had a look through more chests. The wizard had so many books old ones new ones even ones in a different language but they where all more instruction like than story books. He shouldn’t have been surprised the wizard would’ve needed something to help build his inventions but he’d had hope there would be at least some sort of story book. He sighed and sat ontop of a crate glumly putting his head in his hands. He had so much energy to spare and so little time to use it. He shifted uncomfortably something was under him and it wasn’t nice. He stood up turning around to see what was under him. A book. A deep green cover dusty and old with worn edges and a beautiful picture on the front of a princess and a frog. Intrigued by the illustration scarecrow picked it up and dusted it of slightly. The picture was a little bit faded but the colours just seemed to catch his attention. He wasted no time running back to the throne room and sitting down in his velvet throne eager to read this precious jewel he’d found.

Time ticked by and scarecrow was absorbed into the book, slumped lazily with his legs over the thrones arms swinging them back and forth subconsciously as he read the book. It was fascinating a witch, a princess and a prince turned into a frog by a magic spell, there was small pictures here and there which made scarecrows eye shimmer. He was almost finished with the book, it wasn’t lengthy but wasn’t short either. Eyes glued to the book they scanned along the lines of words he began to mutter to himself. “And the princess leaned in, kissing the frog turning him back into the handsome prince he was before” he read, but something made him itch with curiosity. What was kissing? He flipped the page and saw an image of the princess and the frog with their lips touching gently. Was that was a kiss was than? Gently pressing lips to another as a show of love? He was amazed and an idea sparked in his brain. The tin man, perhaps tin man would know after all he was a human once and with a partner at that. He giggled a common occurrence when he was excited or happy and got up the book was tossed aside for now. Since becoming ruler he and the tin man and lion had all found shortcuts to each other’s domains which cut the time practically in half. He grabbed his hat and put the crown on the throne heading down the steps and out the dark room all together.

Winkie country a land once desolate and filled with worry was now filled with life, winkies where free to work and where happy as could be especially with their new ruler leading them. Tin man was having a ball really, he was polished as he needed making his tin shine like diamonds in the light, he was able to forge weapons for the winkies, gardening tools so they could grow crops and plant beds of pretty poppies around the land. The winkies country had never been better. At the moment tin man was in the old witches castle that sat on a little ledge, he was potting up some lovely purple flowers he’d received from a winkie lady as a thank you for restoring their land. Purple, a colour that showed royalty and power but also a colour that reminded him of his dearest friend, the scarecrow. Scarecrows eyes, his beautiful violet eyes, even just paint so filled with life and a passion for living it. It made tin man swoon any time the straw man looked to him with those eyes with that wide smile his new heart would skip a beat he swore he could hear his tin drumming as it hit the metal so hard. His heart was fluttering just at the thought of scarecrow. Soft glove hands, the smell of fresh straw, his voice his laugh his plush body he looked so huggable and warm. “Tin man?” Someone called. He just wanted to hold scarecrow closely. “Tin man?” To love him with all his heart and tell him that. “Tin man!” He jumped startled by the voice. He looked over and saw those exact amethyst eyes glistening at him.

“Scarecrow!” Tin man chuckled happily standing up. “It’s good to see you” he said shaking hands with him. They hadn’t seen each other for a while since they where now kings. “How’s everything in the emerald city?” He asked starting up conversation. “Oh slow but it’s wonderful really, everyone’s very kind and friendly” scarecrow replied. “That’s wonderful” tin man smiled but noticed that his straw friend seemed to be a little fidgety like there was something he wanted to say or ask but wasn’t sure. “Tin man,” he began softly “do you know.. what kissing is?” He asked. Tinman felt his heart skip again, did scarecrow want to kiss him? “I, yes I know what it is… why?” He was getting nervous with anticipation. “Well I was reading this book about a princess and a frog.. and they kissed and I was just wondering…” he shuffled about a little putting his head down. “how does it work?…”

If y’all want a continuation I may have somethin for ya! Keep an eye out hehe I’m back into oz again.

#lgbtq #gay #tincrow #tinman #scarecrow #the scarecrow #wizard of oz #the wonderful wizard of oz #oz no mahoutsukai #the wizard of oz tinman #the wizard of oz scarecrow #fanfic #oz posting #fluff fic #fluff fluff fluff #kissing #romance #tinman x scarecrow

[joeyschick]

Chapter 2 Joe Gets A Surprise 😱

Joe

The bright sun peeping through my

window caused me to groan as I

opened my eyes.

Damn,my head is pounding.

Jesus, you would think i would learn from this bullshit but I never do.

I roll over and find that the other side of the bed is empty.

Hell,it figures.

No worries.

Blondie will be back when she needs some more action.

And who better to give it to her than yours truly here.😎

Wine,dine,69......it's what I do.

I slowly emerged from my bed and fell straight on my ass as I did.

"Damn it" I muttered.

Seriously, why the hell do I do this?

I was trying to pull myself off the floor when I heard my phone ring.

Okay...now the one question is......where in God's name is my phone?

I hear it but I sure as hell don't see it.

Shit.

My phone keeps ringing as I search for it through the pile of sheets that went down with me as I fell on my ass.

All right ya little shit.....ya gotta be around here somewhere.

Finally I stood up (somehow) and staggered over to the night stand and there was the little noise maker that was not helping my aching head.

"Aha...there ya are." I smirked. "Now I'm gonna shut ya up."

With that, I picked up the phone and smirked as I spoke into it with my drunk,sultry voice.

"Hey there,sexy."

"Burrow? My God,are you all right?"

Awww shit....it's coach!

Isn't this grand?

Here i am trying to charm my way into my boss's pants!

Jesus,why????

"Oh yeah...Mr.Taylor....i'm fine as frog hair." I said,laughing a little while the biggest part of me is dying.

"Thank God, I thought you had went off the deep end." He said.

I laughed a little.

I think I might just he headed that way,sir.🤦‍♂️

"Anyway....listen....I forgot to tell you....awesome job on the field yesterday. I don't know what we would do without you,Burrow."

Me neither.😂😂😂😂😂😂ahem...JKJK.

Or am I?😏

Damn it,how the hell do I shut my brain off?

I know what some of you folks are thinking......what brain,right?

Well guess what????....you may be right. 🤦‍♂️

Luckily,with all of this shit going on in my head I was finally able to speak.

"Thank you,sir. I try. I really do."

Thank you Jesus for not letting me say something stupid!

There is hope for my drunk ass after all.🤞

'"Well, you are a blessing to this team. Behave yourself. We need you more than you know."

Oh shit he's onto me and my drinking playboy ways!

I gulped. "Yes sir"

"Get some rest today,Burrow. You deserve it."

"Thank you sir. See you tomorrow." I said.

With that,I hung up the phone and let out a huge sigh of relief.

I can NOT believe I almost hit on my coach.

God help me I really have no decency.

Fifteen minutes later, I am freshly showered and I'm now on the couch,trying to get my aching head to ease off.

Before anyone says anything...yes I have taken some freaking Tylenol.

It just sometimes takes it forever and a day to kick in.

Just as I was drifting off to sleep...the doorbell rang.

Damn it.

A dude can't get one little freaking bit of peace and quiet around here.

Sweet Jesus.

I groaned as I staggered to the door.

When I reached the door I opened it,only to find no one there.

Damn it. Probably some kids trying to prank me.

I groaned as was just about to shut the door when I looked down and saw something that I thought for sure would make me pass out right on the spot.

At my doorway sat a basket with a newborn baby laying in it.

I did a double take to make sure I wasn't seeing things.

But then.....there was also a note which read....

‘Hey Daddy please take care of me. My name is Naomi Elizabeth.’

Oh hell's bells!

First a headache...now I think i'm gonna puke.

My God,what am I gonna do?

Song of the Chapter

Tequila Sunrise by the Eagles

#who dey #joeyb #cincinnati bengals #daddy’s babygirl #fanfic #humor

[adenei]

Fearless

@cruelsummer-ficfest blessed me with the fluffiest of fluff for my second fic for Era 4 and somehow I could not get my brain to bask in the happy (don't worry I forced it anyway!)

Enjoy some no-voldy au missing moment fluff at Bill & Fleur's wedding <3

Song: Fearless

Ship: Romione

Read on ao3

‘Cause I don’t know how it gets better than this

You take my hand and drag me headfirst, fearless

And I don’t know why but with you I’d dance

In a storm in my best dress, fearless

It was a beautiful celebration. Not even a little bit of rain could dampen the love and joy radiating in the atmosphere that evening. And thanks to magic, the entire party area stayed dry. But there was something about the way the raindrops glistened on the grass in the wandlight, adding to the fairytale essence that Fleur had been going for. It reminded Hermione of pixie dust, and she couldn’t help but find herself making a wish. 

The ceremony had ended hours ago, and the party was well underway inside the massive tent. Even though the band carried on, Hermione decided to take a break. Her feet were killing her, so she found a quiet table on the outskirts of the dance floor and watched as the horde of Weasleys showed off their moves. Bill was twirling Ginny around as Fred and George passed Fleur back and forth. Even Percy was out there with his girlfriend from the Ministry, and Charlie was shuffling back and forth, perfectly content to dance by himself.

Only Ron stood on the edge of the makeshift parquet, running a hand through his hair as he watched the rest of his family let loose. Hermione couldn’t help but stare. It was moments like those where she realized just how much she wanted him. How much she hoped they were moving toward something more.

It didn’t take long for Ron’s gaze to scan the room for her, and when their eyes met, a wide smile spread over his face. He made his way over to her and held out his hand when he reached her, which she gladly took.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said, and when she nodded, he dragged her away from the tent and into the dark, quiet night.

Fireflies blinked and frogs croaked in the distance. Their fresh rain soaked their feet as they walked, but Hermione didn’t care. The only thing she could focus on was her hand in his and how perfect it felt. They could still hear the music, though it was much quieter than before. The upbeat song transitioned into something slower, and the lead singer urged guests to hold their sweethearts tight for the last song of the night. 

“I can’t believe it’s almost over,” Hermione commented as their steps slowed.

“Me either.” He stopped walking altogether now and pulled her in close. His other hand settled gently on her waist. “Dance with me?”

Hermione nodded and hoped her hammering heartbeat couldn’t be heard. Sure, they’d danced several times already that evening, but never this close. Never this isolated. Out there in the field it was just them, and it was perfect.

Perhaps the privacy spurred her bravery, and before she knew it, she was laying her head on Ron’s chest. The action made him pull her even closer, and she was surprised to hear the sound of his heart matching her own. It gave her hope and fueled her to push past her fears. She pulled away ever so slightly to look up and see his face in the moonlight.

Their eyes locked for just a moment before Ron’s gaze dipped slightly to catch a glimpse of her lips. The action was enough for Hermione to shift her arms around his shoulders and tilt her head up. Understanding her movements, Ron bent down just enough so that their noses grazed and then finally, he placed the softest, sweetest kiss upon her lips. 

Hermione’s eyes fluttered shut as she basked in the moment. It was everything she’d ever hoped for and more. 

Well you stood there with my in the doorway

My hands shake, I’m not usually this way but

You pull me in and I’m a little more brave

It’s the first kiss, it’s flawless, really somethin’

It’s fearless

#romione #ron weasley #hermione granger #ron weasley x hermione granger #ronmione #hp fanfic #cruel summer fic fest #no voldemort au

[tawneybel]

Note: Ten favorite monsters, part eight. Previous part. The Point is a seriously underrated movie. Catch it if you’re into stuff like The Phantom Tollbooth or Yellow Submarine.

1. Oblina from Aaahh!!! Real Monsters

Tbh, I didn’t really watch this show. Rugrats was and is my fave Nicktoon, so my first exposure to ARM was crossover episode “Ghost Story.” (That, “The Last Babysitter,” and Rugrats in general has great juvenile horror.) But I have a soft spot for female monsters that have “girly” features while still giving grotesque.   

2-4. Anglerfish-esque monsters

Dark spider spirit from Avatar: The Legend of Korra: Some kind of arachnid, anyway. Don’t let her teethies fool you. This lady will just yeet anyone spirited away into the Fog of Lost Souls, she hates people so much.  

Grand Fisher from Bleach: The Bleach Wiki describes him as “resembl[ing] a giant hamster.” Which is great. Didn’t even think of that. Rats aren’t the only rodents that can scary. But he’s included here because I love monsters that mimic victims’ loved ones.

Frogfish from The SpongeBob SquarePants Movie: SpongeBob has other anglers, like two cute ones from “Rock Bottom,” one of my fave episodes. As with Grand Fisher, I love how the Frogfish uses a biological dummy of sorts as a lure. In this case, its tongue. Bringing to mind the Alaskan Bull Worm. 

5. Old Dark Frog from Days with Frog and Toad

This and Bony-Legs were seasonal delights for teeny Tawney. The illustration where he's looming, nay, towering over a chilled Frog was so hair-raising.

6. Brain Eating Meteor from The Grim Adventures of Billy & Mandy

Pretty much exactly what it sounds like. Has one of the best villain songs ever. Thank you, Voltaire.

7. the Demons of Ignorance from The Phantom Tollbooth

It’s like with the Blue Meanies where I can’t pick just one! There’s the Terrible Trivium, of course. But also the barely-there-but-will-bring-you-fear Threadbare Excuse, draconic Two-Faced Hypocrite, etc. 

8. the Pointed Man from The Point

Trickster who sounds like a shaken clock. Tumblr sexyman candidate right there. 

9. Sadako Yamamura from Ringu

Screenshot’s from Ringu 2. The visage creeping after Mai as she climbs with Yoichi out of the well is based on the forensic reconstruction of Sadako’s corpse.

Localizations are hit or miss for me, but I’ll admit The Ring 2002 was more entertaining. However, I think Sadako’s generally a more interesting villain than Samara.

While Ringu notability took inspiration from Videodrome, it’s its own unique spin combined with Japanese ghost lore.

10. the Tingler from The Tingler

A literal spine-tingler, living on people’s vertebrae. Emits a cardiac, pulsating sound when free roaming and swells after gorging itself on fear. 

Note: Eventually, I will try reading the Ring series. I read more murder mysteries than straight-up horror. Might add other Aaah!!! Real monsters to future lists if I ever watch the show proper. 

#Oblina #dark spider spirit #Grand Fisher #Frogfish #Old Dark Frog #minors do do not interact #horror #monsters #monster #anglerfish #Brain Eating Meteor #Demons of Ignorance #Pointed Man #Sadako Yamamura #Tingler #Aaahh!!! Real Monsters #Avatar: The Legend of Korra #Bleach #SpongeBob SquarePants #Frog and Toad #Grim Adventures of Billy & Mandy #Phantom Tollbooth #The Point 1971 #Ringu #The Tingler #Nickelodeon #Cartoon Network #Avatar #Harry Nilsson #The Ring