#you get a real feel of the noise and the chaos

[zilabee]

Snippets from Ticket To Ride, by Larry Kane, a reporter who accompanied the Beatles during the 1964 and 1965 US Tours:

- My own positive relationship with the Beatles was formed early on. Despite my cynical scepticism at the beginning, I became a fan, not only of their professional personas and their music, but also of the individuals they were. What impressed me most about all of them was their indisputable naturalness and, to varying degrees, the depth of their humanity and their lack of phoniness. Another unaffected aspect of their behaviour that was special to watch and be around was their relationship to each other.

- At one point on the tour, as I interviewed Brian Epstein, I mentioned how he seemed so protective of the Beatles. "Well, it is a simple proposition," he explained. "They are special. I believe in them. They should not be compromised or taken advantage of in any form."

- The Dallas police brandished their rifles openly; this was the first time in America that the Beatles had seen rifles at the ready. I got the impression that we would be well protected on this leg of the tour, but the raising of rifles only reinforced the anxiety that the Beatles were feeling. The expressions on their faces, their eyes wandering around, gave me the feeling that they were concerned about their safety.

- On the flight to Ohio, the Beatles seemed joyful. Paul walked up and down the aisle, winking that Paul wink and acting as host of the day. At one point, he stopped by some members of the group Exciter and said jokingly, "Coffee, tea or me?" On the plane Paul was also the biggest walker. He didn't like being confined.

- I knew we were in big trouble when the upholstery of the car's ceiling [started] getting lower, closing in on my face. By sheer force, the eager crowd, jumping on and pressing against the roof of the car, was pushing the metal roof into a dent that evolved into a sinkhole.

Ringo's smile was a wonder to watch.

- The next morning I discovered that the Beatles, or someone in their party, had urinated on the carpets of their suite at the Edgewater. This was the apparent 'plan' Lennon had mentioned to have the last laugh - or in this case the last drop - against local merchants who had planned to cut the rug up and sell it.

- I realised for the first time that this sceptical, cynical reporter was beginning to fall for the music of the Beatles. I was even humming out loud along to the tune, and I continued to do so throughout the evening. Was it the repetition, the hearing of these songs over and over, or was the music beginning to stir my spirits? Whatever the reason, listening to the music was making me feel happy. (Aug 64)

- I was curious, "How many of you have tickets?" Only a few raised their hands. Once again, hundreds, maybe thousands for all I knew, were travelling - and travelling without a chaperone - just to get close to the Beatles. Remember, in those days, teenage girls travelling alone without a parent or guardian was unheard of, but on this ride they were legion.

- Watching Brian Epstein watch the Beatles in complete absorption was one of the most educational sideshows of both great tours. He truly loved their music.

- Much has been said about the static between Paul McCartney and John Lennon after the breakup. But on our tours, we saw nothing but a sensitive closeness between all of them.

- Brian Epstein and Derek Taylor were initially prohibited from getting in making them quite upset. Epstein was also furious that day because Ringo wasn't wearing a tie.

- One of the girls got through and made a wild dash for the elevator. She tripped on a rug and fell to the floor, trapped beneath the weight of two cops. It looked like a football scrimmage. The tape of my conversation with the girl is missing, but I will never forget some of her words. She said, "They're all scumbags, those cops. They suck." She got up, dusted herself off, left the hotel and made it to the street, where she received a round of brief applause from her soulmates.

- The flight from Cleveland to New Orleans featured a magnificent pillow fight, with Lennon and Jackie DeShannon leading the combatants. It was fascinating to watch John Lennon leaping up and down the aisle and - with that eager smile and those penetrating eyes - toying with the pillows and his targets like a five year old in a playground. Practically everyone aboard got involved until a flight attendant, giggling uncontrollably, broke it up.

- One vivid image I'll never forget is of an ice-cream vendor who stopped in place, stared at the Beatles on stage in front of the grandstand and started crying. I said to him, "Is something wrong?" He replied, "No, their music just makes me very happy."

Epstein: I'm very much a Beatles fan. I've probably felt everything that any, um, male Beatles fan ever felt. All the various things I've liked, I think, is what the fans have liked, both in their music and their general manner. To me, in terms of popular music, the Beatles express a cross quality of happiness and tragedy. And this is basically what the greatest form of entertainment is made up of. They in fact do original things. Their songs are always new and different. So are their performances.

- Suddenly I heard the smashing of glass and watched the people inside the lobby rushing toward the windows. When I arrived by the windows myself, the scene was ghastly. Three girls were lying on the floor, bleeding profusely from head and facial injuries. A fourth was up on her feet and trying to stop the blood flowing from her knees. The force of the crowd had pushed these kids through the glass.

- One of the press cars, the one I was in, had a brief upside down experience. Overzealous fans mobbed our vehicle, began to shake it wildly, and ended up rolling it over onto its side. We remained stuck inside for several minutes before the highway patrol were able to right us.

- Ivor Davis (on seeing the Beatles meet Elvis): "We stood a few feet away, trying not to make them feel like prize horses at stud being watched over the fence to see if they'll mate."

- The flight to Indianapolis was subdued, but thankfully it was also short and uneventful. […] Travelling down the aisle later, John broke out a big smile and said, "So how are the nameless, faceless, unidentified news whores doing tonight?"

- Paul was the master host, providing a welcome that made the extremely nervous fans at home and comfortable. In Baltimore, I watched three girls and a boy leave the dressing room and, in the hallway outside, break into tears. They were tears of relief and joy.

- In a corner, John sat quietly and reached into his jacket for his cigarettes. He pulled out a thinner cigarette from his pack, a marijuana joint, and thumbed his lighter to start it. But before he was able to light the joint, Brian Epstein took a quick detour away from chatting with me and a few others, walked over to John, and glowered at him, shaking his head. John slipped the object of his desire back into his jacket pocket, pulled out a legal smoke from his pack, and lit up.

- Art Schreiber: "They were lonely, isolated from the world, both on tour and at home. They couldn't go anywhere. Remember, aside from all the fame and glory, they were young men, barely out of boyhood. I've always been a pretty tough reporter when it came to the people I covered, but let me tell you, they were terrific. I actually started feeling close to them. They really opened up. I was also impressed with how bright they were. They knew how to treat people. They were terrific."

- Paul would look left and right, and wink to a face in the crowd. It was a sexy form of eye candy, tantalizing the crowd with his head gyrations. Paul was a world class flirt when it came to the fans. And they loved him back.

Kane: Will you ever be anything but the Beatles? Paul: We are the Beatles, that's what we are.

#tantalising the crowd with his head gyrations! #for some reason Brian being furious because Ringo wouldn't wear a tie was the highlight of the whole book for me #it's a great book for getting a real sense of these tours #you get a real feel of the noise and the chaos #and the boredom #and it's interesting when he talks about the differences between them in 64 and 65 #lots of quotes and bits from people who went to the concerts too #beatles books #the beatles #brian epstein #ticket to ride #larry kane

[mewtwo24]

I finally finished reading the fourth volume of svsss in full, and thing is--the first time through I only read the bingqiu content because I was ravenous for more of their happy ending.

Turns out that was a perilous mistake.

Because I started reading the airplane extras. And I swear to god. MXTX is trying to kill me

What do you MEAN demon lord Binghe was sitting on his big fucking throne. All stoic and forbidding. Surrounded by his demon generals who don't know shit about human courtship. Asking them what he should do, fully demoralized by constant rejections from sqq, only to have airplane tell him to act more pathetic and needy. Which is already hysterically funny and insane, UNTIL LBH'S RESPONSE IS THIS, KILLING ME INSTANTLY:

LUO BINGHE. WHY DOES HE SAY IT LIKE: "I already tried that, didn't work--nothing works :/ not mean, not maidenly, not housewife, not spicy, not capable disciple. Is doubling down on clingy really all it will take? What's a born hater with only one love in his life to do????"

The dichotomy of him sitting there like 'how can I reach the unfathomable depths of shizun's heart?' A HEART HE'S ALREADY WON OVER, MIND and then in the Holy Mausoleum solving the puzzle without blinking and being like 'oh yeah you just have to hit the acupoints, no sweat.' Literally the comedy writes itself I'm so--

How am I supposed to be normal about this. MXTX understands the juicy quintessential queer joy of a person with the world's power at their fingertips wishing only for love. Willing to do anything to earn that love, when unbeknownst to them it's already been freely given. Totally not screaming and yelling and clawing at the walls

And that's not even touching airplane's uproarious account of events. The way he's like 'lol what's next, lbh and sqq are best friends now? smfh' only to see lbh TACKLE SQQ LOVINGLY. FOR SQQ TO BE BASHFUL ABOUT IT BUT SO SO FOND OF THE LITTLE SCAMP. This when we've been experiencing sqq's constant inner monologue of 'I'm so cool and so dignified about my role, truly the epitome of propriety and poser-level fortitude.' Meanwhile, in their universe:

Airplane constantly flaming???? Sqq and lbh in his observations????? His absolute bewilderment and confusion????? Legendary. No notes every single second of this shit was hilarious.

Airplane's comment that sqq + older adolescent lbh traveling together was just watching a couple in their honeymoon phase. OR the fact that lbh is exceedingly petty and refuses to share their food in the wake of airplane's interruption of their time together, until sqq relents sheepishly and insists airplane eat what's left (ONLY AFTER PLACATING LBH WITH MORE FOOD FROM HIS PLATE, SOBBING)

Watching airplane salivate over Mobei-Jun and acting like that's totally normal behavior. Finding out mbj and airplane got together first. Finding out sqq encouraged airplane. LIKE THIS. WHILE HE IS STILL IN DENIAL ABOUT HIS OWN FEELINGS:

Mobei-jun clearly thinking their arrangement is a forever thing, heartbroken his human abandoned him with all the hapless fury of a scorned wife swept away by false promises of fidelity. Airplane writing demons to be the type to beat up their crush lovingly and still unable to connect the dots about mbj's feelings. Mbj letting him go and respecting his wishes, only relenting when there's indication airplane was poorly processing his own feelings and didn't actually want to leave. Mbj caring for him and listening to him as soon as airplane voices what he needs directly and with clarity. None of these gays are functional and it's everything to me

Unrelated, but I physically can't hold this information in anymore:

I'm still reeling from younger lbh having his sexual awakening from the image of sqq wrapped in the immortal binding cables. Condemn me as you like he was so, so real for that.

And no I will not be taking any comments about how luo bingge couldn't bear to see luo binghe cherished in ways he never got to have and all the haunting implications of that. I will also not be taking any comments about luo binghe's instinct to look for sqq in that alternate universe, only to be shaken to the very core to be unable to find his shizun anywhere. The unspeakable and latent horror of his relentless mind likely piecing together what happened, but unable to say it; to suspect what is true, and live with the harrowing confusion of his double's actions. To blame himself, to assume that he had let his anger get the better of him in that world and result in unspeakable folly...

I also refuse to talk about how heartrending it is to hear Tianlang-jun weakly say "In the end, I really can't bring myself to hate humans." The implication that the foolishness of that hope and bright-eyed fondness--the very thing that put him through such unspeakable agony--couldn't be beaten out of him entirely. To discover that his faith in Su Xiyan hadn't been misplaced, to the contrary: his beloved hadn't scorned him at all, but rather fought to the miserable end to protect the fruition of their genuine feelings of love when she couldn't protect tlj or herself.

How MXTX has sqq deliberately draw parallels between their situation and that of ygy+sj and tlj+sx; desperately wishing it might not be too late for them. The concept of breaking cycles of abuse and harm pervasive throughout the newly devised story, how it evolves for the better only when love takes the place of power, pride, and domination. How the moment sqq chooses vulnerability instead of saving face, the genre shifts to the so-called "cringe" girly genre where most if not every character is more fulfilled, more true to themselves. How the "male-oriented" former genre was aimlessly sensationalized and sexualized, how it was a sustained performance of aspirational toxic masculinity. How men objectify other men without end. All of the unspoken gendered implications that come with that.

Anyways. Going to go put my head in a sandbox and try to process everything I just witnessed because even a second reading is not enough to find a modicum of closure.

#svsss #bingqiu #moshang #i swear to god this series is just 'gay man who doesn't know shit inflicting his delusional reality on everyone else and inciting chaos' #and literally it's slapstick levels of hilarious every single time; mxtx never change #also i fully agree that we did not get NEARLY enough mobei-jun and sqh/airplane content #the amount of mental illness to mental illness communication going on there was astonishing #mobei-jun being afraid of his uncle and bringing sqh because that's the only person he trusts fully (WAILING NOISES) #sqh having a tantrum but running away because for the first time he was honest about his needs + his dissatisfaction with catering to other #how that reflects his narrative compulsions and how he felt forced to warp more creative story paths for the sake of survival as a writer #how sqq's restoration of much of his original intent--as well as mobei-jun's acceptance of his needs--helps airplane begin to heal #how his happiness begins; how just like sqq he wanders in such confusion and denial before he's forced to realize what truly matters to him #SHREK VOICE: STORIES HAVE. L A Y E R S #it feels like modern day shakespeare and when i say that i don't mean it in a hollow elevating sense i mean it more like #mxtx just hits that perfect balance of poignance but also hilarious concentric circles of botched communication and brainworms #okay but real talk for a minute? .........;-; #the way lbh constantly struggles with such a crushing feeling that he'll be abandoned over any little mishap/thing/problem #really hit me where it hurts??? if only because its so clearly an anxiety that stems from original goods' upbringing #the way it becomes even more heartrending when you think back to all the sect leaders clamoring that he should have been killed as an infan #that he should have been aborted as a fetus--insisting right in front of him that his birth was a mistake and a disgrace #over having demon blood in his veins. like my god that scene is so viscerally upsetting i struggle to read it #the way its so easy to see the demons as a manifestation of otherness in precipitated form #how both sqq and sqh are influenced by human rhetoric without evening meaning to--assuming the worst against their better judgment #how both sqq and sqh both struggle with their own otherness in different ways and only find solace when they begin to accept who they are #how their lovers (lbh and mbj respectively) both are willing to navigate those confusing waters with them #how both demons love them as they are--accept them as they are despite how difficult forgiveness of perceived betrayal is for them #ty mxtx for changing my brain chemistry #as i get older i have such a fondness for the messiness of thematic queer self-discovery and growth into self-acceptance #that and how youth can so easily be defined by perfectionistic self-harm and the violence of repression

[bangarangdarling]

blame the “hitting on your mom as a punishment” tiktok i just saw that literally blew my brain up. established because they’re disgustingly in love and because i say so

Eddie would normally consider himself pretty immune to the roar of arguing teenagers. Chaos surrounds their little Party. They’re not a quiet bunch when all together. It’s all shoving and yelling, giggling and roughhousing. Carpet-burned battle scars from the floor of Steve’s living room.

Lord knows Eddie himself wasn’t an inside-voice kind of person. He was certainly wont to standing on coffee tables and screeching demands for the remote when it was unjustly stolen away by villainous hands.

Eddie loved these people to death, and they were a lot of fucking fun to hang out with, it’s just this...this was an unreal level of noise. A normal sleepover night turned a little too rowdy, the adolescents celebrating the start of Summer with a bang.

Steve had already asked them to keep it down four times this evening. Nothing seemed to calm them. Not requests. Not threats of being sent home. Usually their Dungeon Master threatening their characters’ souls did the trick, but no go. 

Getting teenagers to listen? A feat more impossible than defeating creatures from an alternate universe. 

Dustin and Erica were in a bitching match about the best D&D class. Lucas and Mike had been fighting over movie choices for the last half hour. Eddie’s money was on the VHS player breaking before that, the constant mishandling and shoving of tapes had the poor thing practically smoking.

Will, ever the diplomat, was trying to be an impartial party when asked his movie opinions. Which, of course, caused more yelling. 

Max and El had been the only ones being semi-quiet, but that quickly ended when they followed through on their surprise attack pillow fight, pummeling the boys senseless and causing the already unbearable volume to kick into overdrive. Eddie could practically feel Steve’s migraine building, even from where the dude had retreated to the kitchen. Dinner had been pizza. Quick. Easy. Clean. Or, it would have been if it hadn’t had been for the food fight. Steve was still in there scrubbing cheese out of his parents’ tiled backsplash. Dishes clattered in the distance when the cacophony hit its crescendo. 

It was the proverbial straw. 

“Alright, that’s it! Hey. Come on, guys. Knock it off,”

Nothing. 

“HEY!”

He maybe overdid it that time, but the absolute ear-splitting boom of a yell he let out stopped the ruckus dead. 

Silence rang for a beat.

Huh. Maybe Eddie should try out incorporating that into his music. He honestly hadn’t known he could get to that range. 

The teenagers in the room stared at him, not cowed in the slightest, but curious enough to know what the hell Eddie’s problem was. Max was the first one to quirk an eyebrow at him.  “Geez, need attention much?” 

Eddie folded his arms to show he meant business. “Steve has asked you guys to tone it down. You’re waking the fucking dead. Why don’t you guys, like, actually go be good human beings and help him clean up your mess you all made in the kitchen, huh?” 

Lucas snorted. “Yeah, okay, mom. Why don’t you go help him, you guys will probably just make out in there, anyway.” 

It was a teasing comment. Meant to jokingly rib before getting back to doing whatever the hell they wanted to do.

But, see. That just gave him an idea. 

Never let it be said Eddie couldn’t be creative with his punishments. He was a DM after all. 

“Alllllllright. New plan. Listen up or suffer, ankle biters,” 

He really didn’t appreciate the snickers that brought about when he was trying to be intimidating. Rude. 

“You going to send us to our room or something? I’m real scared,” Erica’s scathing, dry wit was unparalleled, truly. 

“Nope. Better. It’s a new rule: You little shitheads give me attitude and don’t listen, I hit on your babysitter.”

It was silent for a minute, brains audibly computing that statement and coming up ERROR. Will hesitantly spoke up. 

“Uh, Eddie, I really don’t think that’s--”

“Yeah, what the fuck?” Mike interrupted. “Why would you beating up Steve hurt us? I mean, like, I guess it would emotionally, but that’s fucked up, man.” 

Eddie rolled his eyes, still smirking wickedly as his plan solidified.  “Oh, I don’t mean that kind of hitting, young Wheeler. Though, it may yet get physical--Hey, Steve?” He called out. The sink in the kitchen shut off after a second.

“Yeah?” 

“Can you come here?” 

The kids shuffled around on the floor warily as the other man walked into the living room. The energy had obviously shifted, it was probably an odd vibe to walk in to, but Eddie cut Steve off before he could ask any questions.

“You tired?”

“Uh, no. I’m fine--”

“It’s just you just keep on runnin’ through my mind constantly. I figured you’d be exhausted, sweetheart,” Eddie purred, the words cloyingly sweet and full of exaggerated charm. 

There was a countdown, three, two, one...

A collective groan let out. A few uncomfortable laughs.  “Dude, what the hell?” 

“You guys agreed not to be gross in front of us!”

“Oh, my god, can I actually get sick from how cheesy that was?” 

Eddie had to work at keeping in character when his very first line had pulled the intended reaction. He was already reaching forward to curl an arm around Steve, pulling him in in a slow, sultry attempt at being smooth. 

“What? Can’t I be sweet on my guy? You all will understand when you’re in love one day. Right, sugar?” 

Fake gags and retching sounds, too dramatic to be real protests, but still indignant and annoyed. Eddie was pretty sure Dustin slapped a hand over his eyes.

“Uh...yes?” Steve, who had previously looked like a car accident had happened directly in front of him, was catching on to the play. He eyed the disgruntled floor-children with a growing grin and let Eddie snuggle up to him.

God, his baby was so clever. He always knew what Eddie was thinking. 

Too busy having a non-verbal conversation with Steve on how to best annoy the kids, Eddie didn’t see Mike turning his attention back to the tv. He did, however, hear him telling the others to “Just ignore them, they’ll get all gushy and leave us alone.” 

Oh, Michael, Michael. Wrong move. 

“How you doing, babygirl?” Steve flushed, deep and red and--huh. Okay. Revisiting that one in the future. “You good? You need anything? Your head hurting, sweet thing? I can kiss it better,”  Eddie ducked forward to kiss Steve’s cheek. It was chaste, a sweet little thing...that Eddie made infinitely worse by the smacking, obnoxious kissy sounds he emulated there. The chorus of groans and protests started up again. He didn’t even pull his face away to call over to them. 

“I’m sorry, is that attitude? Am I hearing more attitude?”

“Dude, Eddie, noooo!” 

“Jesus, it’s like watching your parents make out, oh my god.” 

“You guys, let’s just go already,” 

“Yeah, I’ll take washing dishes over this,” 

The grossed out teenagers whooshed past them. Grumbling and glaring--except Eleven, who smiled up at them sweetly--leaving Steve and Eddie standing in the living room, still wrapped up together. 

It was too tempting then, with the kids safely out of range, for Eddie to resist the temptation to drop his kisses a little lower down Steve’s neck. To let them get a little less chaste. Just a little.

What can he say? He’s a weak man. 

“That was evil,” Steve hummed. His shoulders dropped, though, relaxing into Eddie’s hold, the closest thing they’ve had to quiet all night settling in. 

“Hey, I accomplished two things. Got them to chill out and I get the perk of feeling you up in the middle of sleepover night. It’s a win-win.” 

A crash and a muffled argument broke out in the kitchen before Steve could respond to that. 

The audible scuffling was cut off by Eddie calling out “Your ass looks great in these jeans tonight, Harrington!” 

The fierce whispers and shushing were enough to get both of the older boys cackling loudly. 

#Listen this is cheesy and poorly written but i HAD to #go find that tik tok because it was hilarious but also radiated love and healthy parenting #they called it 'gentle parenting with malicious intent' looooool #steddie #the party #my brain vomit

[boss-poss]

See, Lethal Company's real genius is that it somehow marries two normally opposed genres, those being horror and comedy together into something greater. Mechanically it's a multiplayer looter extraction survival type game. It's designed to create stressful and scary situations by forcing you to speedrun mini randomized dungeons while monsters hunt your character to meet a certain quota (our asses are not making quota). That's not the clever part though, no, that's giving the players the ability to fuck themselves over and the hilarity that comes from it.

Anything you say into your mic is said in the game world and can be heard by certain monsters. Many items, similarly, can be used to make noise and you can bet there is little impulse control when a player finds an air horn or gets a walkie talkie. The sound of a distant honk somewhere out of nowhere is not something most players are prepared for while in a pitch black maze. Sound in this game has a doppler effect, which makes it harder to hear the further away the source is, allowing screams to fade into nothing and unintelligible yelling heard for a second before vanishing. You must rely on your senses but those are, by design, limited and regularly tricked.

Because level layouts, monster locations, and item spawns are all random, it's insanely easy to get lost or lose track of thigs, especially in the dark and especially when panicking. Seeing a bracken for the first time will almost certainly send a player running in the opposite direction and get lost, if they even see it all. No one is prepared to have a hand wrap around their face and snap their neck in an instant. It's utterly shocking and will leave you gasping in surprise to first time you experience it.

Certain weather patterns make levels harder, some even nearly impossible (looking at you eclipse), and sometimes your options are avoiding deadly lightning or not being able to see due to fog. High level moons have excessively valuable loot but also feature the worst foes and cost a fee to access, forcing a compromise between greed, ability, and resources.

Dying, likewise incurs a penalties. Your team is fined for dying and not bringing the bodies back but if you all die, all your collected loot goes poof. Gone. A team wipe can and will effectively end the run in an instant if you do something stupid like stick around when you hear "pop goes the weasel" or try to pick up that funny looking roomba. You can almost feel the pressure weighing down on your shoulders when you realize you're the last one left and you need to get back to the ship or miss the quota.

The monsters likewise, are engines of terror that are comically effective killing machines with no cohesive theme to help anticipate them. The already mentioned bracken is one of the scariest things I've seen in a game, and those technically aren't even that bad. They're completely manageable if you keep your head on a swivel and pay attention to your surroundings. Coilheads are these mannequins with bobble heads that will path to and kill you in a microsecond the moment you aren't looking at them, weeping angel style. There's a thing called the ghost girl that I have yet to see but is apparently one of the most terrifying critters in the menagerie. Forest giants. If you know, you know.

All these little mechanics, these choices that are made by and for the player, create a maelstrom of unpredictable chaos that, like a buxom blond transforming into an orgasming pooltoy, turns what would be strictly serious horror into a unique form of dark comedy that layers over it like jelly on peanut butter. You are scared, you are on edge, and it only gets worse when you know what these things are capable of, but the sheer hopelessness is something you all have in common. It's funny how little hope you have. You will die. A monster will wipe your team. There will eventually come a quota you can't beat. You were doomed from the start.

So why not get silly with it? Why not try to fight that bracken with shovel? Fuck him. Why not just run past a turret and try to nab that fat jar of pickles? Why not wander off from the group? You're just as likely to come back with arms loaded and the quota met as you are likely to not come back at all. You're already dead, so take the gamble, do stupid shit, repeat this hell until you can meet its horrors with grim determination and put in the effort to afford that goddamn boombox. Dance. Just press 1 and dance the fear away.

You are all united in your mortality and duty, fragile sacks of flesh working to break even at the behest of perhaps the greatest horror of all: The company you work for. You are so preposterously fucked beyond all belief from every angle there really isn't enough adjectives to describe it. And that's comedy baby, when things are so bad all you can do is laugh.

#lethal company #indie games #legit one of the best games I've played all year and only $10 #THIS is what games should be #goofing off with the lads while surrounded by the horrors

[xuchiya]

freak [j.wooyoung]

₊˚.༄ || filth valentines m.list || hongjoong || seonghwa || yunho || yeosang || san || mingi || wooyoung || jongho || ₊˚.༄

₊˚.༄ Skirt off, fuck in the backseat Take that shirt off, baby, put it on me ₊˚.༄

Wooyoung knew that you were one of those goody-two shoe students yet he befriended you throughout primary and secondary school and even going through the same university to pursue different courses though he always finds his way to spend lunch with you (even with the conflict schedule). 

Many students or even professors assumed you both were high school sweethearts yet you both denied that you were childhood friends; to Wooyoung’s dismay, he wishes every night on the starry mobile in his room that someday, he would have the courage to ask you out.

  On the very next day, his wish was granted that he find himself confident and overall ready to face you though with a little nervous shaking down his form but he had already made up his mind. Wooyoung slammed his tray onto the table, startling you with the sudden noise. You winced, then teased, "Someone didn't have the best morning lecture, huh?"

He slumped into the chair across from you, letting out a dramatic sigh. "Professor Lee is a tyrant in disguise. Don't get me started on the never-ending case studies."

You chuckled, pushing your own tray closer. "Want a bite of my sandwich? Professor Kim's class wasn't much better." Wooyoung’s smile slowly returned as he stole a bite, one of the many reasons he admires. "Your cooking skills are the only consolation in my day."

The familiar comfort of your shared lunch, a routine that stretched back years, settled around you. Despite your claims of being "just friends," your interactions spoke volumes to bystanders. Stolen glances, comfortable silences, and a genuine interest in each other's lives.

"Why do we always say we're 'just childhood friends,'" Wooyoung blurted out, his voice suddenly serious. You were taken back. Wooyoung was never the person to question something that doesn’t need to be questioned unless he finds suspicion on it but questioning your friendship is something out of the list you were NOT expecting at all.

You froze, the half-eaten sandwich forgotten in your hand. "Well, it's... true, isn't it?"

Wooyoung studied your face, his gaze intense; his heart were everywhere as his eyes gaze at your almost shaking and teary eyes,"Is it, though? We've been through everything together, from scraped knees in kindergarten to late-night study sessions pulling our hair out."

His words echoed in your heart, stirring a pot of unspoken emotions. You felt the warmth creep up your cheeks, and you mumbled looking down on your try playing with your food as you settled the sandwich down, "I don't know, Wooyoung."

He leaned closer, his voice almost a whisper, "Maybe it's time we found out."

Your breath hitched, head raising as your eyes returned back to his warmth tone, his eyes were something you have always found solace. The air crackled with unspoken feelings. It was then you realised Wooyoung wasn't just frustrated about Professor Lee's class anymore. 

He was nervous, making his move.

A small smile played on your lips, "Alright," you finally said, "What do you have in mind?"

Wooyoung grinned, his eyes sparkling. "How about dinner? a real date. My treat."

Your heart soared. "I'd like that, Wooyoung."

And after years of university, graduating with flying colours you both were still on the hard ground of your relationship; people found out about your new level and everyone pointed at you all with ‘see!’ and even your professors (Mr. Lee and Mr. Kim) seemed to be pleased to hear you both together. But amidst the chaos, the foundation you'd built throughout your childhood and university days held strong. You celebrated small victories, commiserate over setbacks, and found solace in each other's unwavering support.

Then, came the turning point. Your new job brought you face-to-face with San and Mingi, two vibrant colleagues who quickly became your friends and confidantes though San worked as a paediatrician under the same company.

Your company consists of engineering, information technology and doctors. Two big buildings under the same company. That's why you and San were able to meet up since the cafeteria is big enough for all the employees of the company.

 Work transformed from a daily grind to a place of shared laughter and late-night brainstorming sessions fueled by take-out and caffeine.

Wooyoung, with his ever-supportive nature, was thrilled to see you blossoming in your new environment. He, too, found his groove at his own workplace, forging bonds with his coworkers. Yunho and Jongho, coincidentally one of them happens to be your half-brother who has been working in the engineering department.

As the night draws closer, you clock out with two of your friends and San decides to drag you both to a booth to drink. At first you decline the idea but San insists that a couple of drinks will help ease the tension and pressure from the three of you since our boss gave a bloody project to your department; at the end Mingi also agrees and gives you his usual begging eyes.

 “Fine but I’ll call my Wooyoung …” They cheered, looking for a table while you stayed outside to call your boyfriend. You told him about San and Mingi wanting a drink since the next days will be hell for the three of you and wanted to rewind a little bit.

Wooyoung nodded and wanted you to have fun which made you sigh in relief. You returned back inside to see the table already filled with food and drinks, “Took you so long we started without you!” You shake your head at Wooyoung’s patience.

After a few drinks, San received a call from his girlfriend saying where he is and asking for a weird combination of pickles and chocolates. Upon seeing your confused look, Mingi chuckles, “Cravings … it’s quite odd but it satisfies them.” 

Your eyebrows rose, “you seem to know what she was asking.” Mingi shrugs, taking a shot before taking a small bite of the fried shrimp, “Being a father of 2 kids.” San chuckles before dropping the call, “Her cravings get weirder and weirder everyday yet it feels amazing to see her growing well.”

“Is this how your wife normally craves or does she have other cravings you find odd, Mingi?” San took a shot before taking a huge bite of his food. Mingi hummed, thinking about his wife’s top cravings, “well when we had our daughter, she asked me to buy potato chips and peanut butter.” 

San laughs, shaking his head, “How long did it take?” Mingi shrugs, not really keeping up with his wife’s cravings, “I haven’t taken note about it.” You hummed thinking about your aunt who gave birth to his fourth baby, and you being the only one having long patience with her when it comes to her mood swings would not ask about her weird combinations of her cravings. “they said it usually ends around the third trimester.”  

San and Mingi looked at you, you stared back confused, “What?”

Mingi observes you before asking you the question, “Were you also …?” You gasp, smacking his arm playfully which sent them laughing, Mingi throwing his hands up in defence, “I just thought okay? I’m sorry” 

 “No, I mean not yet and besides Wooyoung and I had talked about it and maybe soon we will after marriage.”

San nodded in agreement, “But you guys have spice things up?” Mingi choked on his food, causing him to cough and turn around. Your cheeks flared in so many colours that it had you grabbing another bottle and pressing it to your heated up face, “Sa-San do not say those.”

San scoff, unable to believe to see your ‘unusual side’, he may be your friend in just a few years (unlike Woo) but he has seen the other side of you, your freaky side. So does Mingi; that’s why you three got along well. You three somehow spilled such filthy thoughts one time when you were over at San and how he got his girlfriend to be his or how Mingi had praised so much that you guys teased him for being a sub and soft  for his wife. 

Wooyoung may be someone you know for the longest time but sharing the ‘freak side’ as to what the boys call it, is something beyond your comfort. 

But who knows what Wooyoung prefers, right? Both you and Wooyoung had done it a lot of times. Vanilla sex or the first time he fucks on your twentieth-third birthday just right after everyone left , rough when he has been pent up from work and needed release or even going to the extent of him having you on his lap, facing the open field and fuck you on the viranda of your home and having him spreading your legs open as you squirt out on the open.

So tell yourself now how come you haven’t opened up to Wooyoung about it?

After a few more shots, the boys called it a night and went on their separate ways while you waited for Wooyoung to pick you up whilst having your mind drifted not only to your nasty but the thought of having a baby with you.

“Baby? You okay?” You yelp in surprise when a hand is placed on your shoulders scaring you out of your thoughts. Your eyes landed on Wooyung who had a worried face, “Wooyoungie –sorry my love, I’m a little .. preoccupied with work.” You sigh, miniscule yet noticeable from your boyfriend’s eyes. Wooyoung raised an eyebrow, the perks of knowing you and your body language; he knows what is up and he knows what to do.

“Come on, maybe you had too much to drink.” Maybe it is or maybe it’s the way Wooyoung led you to the car, hand hovering close to your ass that you knew he knows whats up.

“Ah-h f-fuck Wooyoung— UGH!” He had one hand on the steering wheel whilst the other buried knuckles deep inside your pussy. The seat was inclined, giving him the chance to move his hand freely which sends you rolling your eyes back.

Wooyoung chuckles, looking at the side before poking his tongue on his cheeks, “Will you tell me now why you were so “deep” on your thoughts, baby?” His hands move in a ‘come here’ slow motion, nudging that spongy spot immediately’ squirming and moaning breathlessly on your seat had you gripping his wrist as you grind shamelessly.

Woooyoung laughs looking to the side again to catch sight of a biker glancing at your side of the seat. He had notice the eyes prying but he loves the attention most especially showing off that HE can only do that to you, fuck you so good on the seat of his car and had you moaning mess underneath his fingers.

“N-nothing .. much love— Fuck fuck love I’m gonna cum!” Your breath hitches as Wooyoung let you cum on his fingers, the relief of releasing your high and riding it off had you breathing heavily on your seat, muscles relaxed and the car moving in go.

“That’s a good girl.” His hand grip your panty, guiding you to remove it before getting a small whiff of your essence before accelerating to home.

The car squeak, windows so foggy from the hot temperature of your heated body to body and legs spread open, thrown over each of the seat as Wooyoung who no longer had the patiences as his fingers glide on his tongue, tasting your essence and groaning from how sweet and salty it combines in his taste buds that sent him in feral state, parked on a motel and wasn’t able to book in and took you there on the back seat.

Skirt off and dick deep in.

Your eyes rolled back as you bit your lip, a playful smirk on your as your body rocks along with Wooyoung. Your hands were resting on your boobs, feeling them jiggle as Wooyoung continued drilling his cock, hitting each of your walls, reaching far down what his tip could go. His hands were gripping on the head seat as his hips snapped, burying you his cock deeper and deeper and even nudging his tip on your spongy spot that had you vocalising as your coil snaps and long ‘oh’s of your juice leaks out of your pussy.

“Fuck me harder Wooyoung, just like that~” His hand grip the back of your knees, pushing it close to your chest, “Make me squirt baby~ let me get that dick wet.” Your dirty tongue rolled off and made Wooyoung grip your legs tighter before slapping your clit causing you to whimper “Again baby please please!”

Wooyoung repeatedly slap your clip then rubs them, “Is this what you like, you freaky little girl? Is this what is in your mind, huh?” You chuckle your tongue gliding across your teeth, “More than this, I want you to ram me harder, make me wet and milk you dry. Have my pussy dripping with your cum as I finger myself in the open.” 

“Fuck fuck keep clenching me baby, I like how you hold me so tight when I’m inside your pretty pussy of yours!” His hips move deliberately; his cock wets around your velvet walls. Your hands run up to his arms to his shoulders before cupping his cheeks, “I love you.”

Wooyoung’s pace never faltered but had his head dipping to meet your lips, pulling away to look you in the eye. “I love you more and ever.” His pace soon picks up, shaking the whole car once again before lowering himself further; hand now pressing on the fogged window, printing his hand as he pulls you closer to him as he spurted his seeds inside you. His hips halted, a long groan met your ears as you felt him twitch inside you as he emptied himself inside your womb. He pulled out seeing your pussy clenching as dose after dose of his cum pumps out of your hole.

He moves to open the car door, a smirk on his lips, “Then do what you wanted, you freaky girl. Show them my cum on your pussy, make yourself a mess."

 

 You entered the cafeteria with a radiating smile and good news in hand, you saw your two friends on the table. You flop down beside Mingi, smile still radiant, “So …”

The two glance at one another before looking at you, “So?”

“I’m pregnant!” You whispered yell. Your friends eyes widen, their utensils made a loud clunk noise as they ushered you to continue, you smile, “I told him about what was on my mind that time and he voice it out too that he had seen some of his co-workers having a family even way being married so .. yeah you guys gonna be uncle soon.” 

San and Mingi cooed congratulating you before moving on to where to celebrate your pregnancy to which San leaned into your ear, “So was the car sex amazing that it got you pregnant?”

#ateez #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez hard thoughts #ateez smut #ateez fanfic #ateez hard hours #ateez x reader #ateez wooyoung smut #wooyoung ateez #ateez wooyoung #jung wooyoung #wooyoung smut #jung wooyoung x reader

[vienssunshine]

Don’t know how to feel

pairing: Choso x fem-coded!reader nsfw: sub!Choso, oral sex choso receiving word count: 3k description: while attempting to escape the chaos in Shibuya station, you run into a man dressed in a strange Halloween costume

Your friends said Shibuya was the place to be for Halloween, that they would just die if you didn’t join them for the party tonight. You surrendered to their begging, it’s not like you had other plans, and put on a more-slutty-than-tasteful vampire costume to accompany them for the festivities in the square. It should be a good time, you thought, the perfect opportunity to get buzzed and maybe laid. But as the screams got louder and you realized that no, someone hadn’t slipped something into your drink and that yes, the stampede coming towards you was real, your only concern became staying alive.

You’re torn away from your friends, elbows jabbing your sides, hands pushing you to keep moving or be trampled under frenzied feet. When you look to the sky, fighting to stay upright, you see that some kind of boundary has fallen over the surrounding area, keeping you all trapped. Despite this, the crowd still searches for escape, lurching in directionless surges and crushing you with pounds of body weight every time the current turns. So when you get to the edge of the mob, you take the chance to break free and run to the first shelter you can see: Shibuya station. You hurry inside, trying to not let the blood coating the stairs leading underground deter you. If you can’t escape whatever’s going on, you’ll have to hide until it blows over.

The bottom of the stairs is covered in rubble, the gaping hole in the ceiling above it the clear perpetrator. You clamber over the loose rock and steel to land on the tile of the train station. Behind you, strange noises from the world above begin to bellow through the staircase. You don't know what could be causing such unnatural sounds, but it's clear it would be best to put distance between you and their origin.

Your feet hit the ground hard, and you’re panting as you whip your head around, looking for anything to use as cover. You spot a small divot in the wall—maybe there’s a tunnel out of here—but when you approach it, you find it filled with the crouched form of a man. He’s in a Halloween costume too—though you’re not sure what he’s dressed up as—and leaning on the cracked wall, eyes wide in a thousand yard stare. It’s clear he’s not taking the situation at hand well, but if he wants to have any chance of surviving, he can’t stay out in the open like this.

A loud roar and a flurry of screams from the ground above echos through the station.

“Hey,” you whisper-shout, “Come with me.”

Unaffected, he mumbles something.

You try again, the urgency in your voice unhidden, but are interrupted by footsteps rumbling down the steps of the train station—though it doesn't sound like a crowd of humans, rather a parade of zoo animals. You’ve got to go, now. Still, you reach down and grab his forearm, offering the poor man one more chance to come with you and save himself. He must've had a moment of clarity because because he allows you to get him to his feet and drag him behind you.

The stampede is reaching the bottom of the stairs when you turn the corner and pull the man through the first door you see, slamming it behind you. An emergency light overhead casts a dim, yellow haze over what you recognize as a closet, allowing you to spy a tall shelf of cleaning supplies—a janitor's closet.

“Help me move this in front of the door,” you command.

You get behind the shelf and begin pushing, digging your feet into the cement ground and pressing your weight against it. Fuck, it’s too heavy. The weird sounds are getting closer. You push even harder.

The shelf flies forward, causing you to stumble and steady yourself with the wall to your side. Though you wish it had been, it wasn't your strength that moved it.

You turn around to see that the man is right behind you, having joined in the effort to barricade the door, and from his extended arm, had only used one hand to do so.

He drops his arm down by his side and looks down at you. For the first time since you’ve met, he makes eye contact. There’s a horizontal line drawn across his face, just under his eyes, with what you assume is make-up, but you’re only able to study it up close for a second before his expression crumples. He backs up, pressing his back flat against the furthest wall—which doesn’t get him very far in such a cramped closet—while his eyes frantically dart over your tattered costume. Then he looks down, staring at the dirty floor beneath his feet. It doesn’t appear that his mental state has improved since you found him.

“Hey, are you okay?” you ask softly, speaking as if you were trying to not spook a stray animal. His hands are gripping the sides of his pants. He must’ve seen something terrible in the commotion above ground.

You try something else. “What’s your name?” you whisper. Hopefully this question is easier to answer and you can work on calming the poor man down.

He doesn’t meet your gaze as he mutters once again.

“What was that?” you say, taking a minuscule step forward.

Thankfully, the movement doesn't startle him, but he stays curled into himself when he answers. “Choso Kamo,” he says.

You introduce yourself, and though he gives you a few quick looks, he can’t keep his eyes on you as you speak. He must be really freaked out. “I know this is a traumatic situation, Choso,” you say, “I’m not going to hurt you, I just want to make you feel better.”

Choso shifts his weight, keeping his eyes trained on the ground. “You’re making me feel weird,” he replies.

You furrow your brow. Out of the two of you, you’re definitely the one acting the most normal. “I’m sorry,” you say, folding your arms over your black corset—it's a miracle it stayed up after all that running. “We’ll only have to be here until everything dies down. Then you won’t have to see me again.”

“It’s not like that,” he says, fidgeting with the sleeve of his costume. He glances at you. His pale face is flushed pink. “The feeling feels…good.”

Now you’re puzzled. “…okay?”

“Can I…can I try something?” he asks.

Well, at least he’s talking now. And he seems to have calmed down, making him less likely to do something stupid and get both of you killed. It's a good idea to keep him this way, make sure he stays relaxed and reassured.

So you agree. “Um…sure,” you respond.

The yellow light flickers.

Choso takes a step forward, a step that crosses the entirety of the small closet, and lays a big hand on your shoulder. You lost the cape of your ‘sexy vampire costume’ in the commotion, so your shoulder is bare; it can directly feel the roughness and warmth of his hands.

“It feels good to…touch you,” he breathes. He turns his attention from your shoulder to your eyes, “and look at you, too.”

You shudder; his gaze is heavy. This…isn’t what you expected.

“I thought I was scaring you,” you say, looking down. There's a few bottles of cleaning supplies scattered on the floor.

“A little bit,” he says, working it out as he speaks, “I don’t know what’s going on, but it’s so intense.”

That’s when you notice how strong his grip on your shoulder is, not tight enough to bruise, but enough to communicate a possessiveness. A desire for more. You flick your eyes back up to him, evaluating. He is good-looking, and the expression he has on his face as he waits for your response—cheeks flushed and mouth slightly ajar in gentle pants—is stirring up something warm in your stomach.

You place your hand on his chest. Oh, how his heart is pounding. “You really don’t know what’s going on?” you ask.

He looks down at your hand, then back to you. “I-I don’t, just that…your hand feels so warm and nice.”

You smile a little, tilting your head. “It seems that you’re attracted to me.”

“I didn’t know that was possible–for me to be attracted to someone,” Choso responds. You laugh to yourself, is this guy an alien or something? Maybe that’s what his costume is. Alien or not, he’s still cute.

“Congrats on the revelation,” you say, dropping your hand.

Choso takes a moment to ponder, and you watch with amusement. This interaction doesn’t seem real. Well, this whole situation doesn’t seem real. You hope everything will blow over soon. You’re trying not to catastrophize, to think worse case scenario. And this—

“Are you…attracted to me?” Choso asks.

—is a good distraction.

“You’re handsome,” you say. “I don’t know you that well yet, but I think we are getting off to a good start.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, breathless. He’s trying not to, but his gaze is roaming what he can make out of your body in the dim light. There’s probably a lot to see due to how much your vampire costume already reveals and that parts of it were lost in the scramble for safety.

“Do you want me to keep touching you?” you ask, coy. His breath hitches at the idea.

“If…if it feels good for you too,” Choso responds.

“It does,” you say, taking the final step to have your chest pressing against his. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, hovering your lips just a millimeter away from a kiss. “It feels really good to me.”

He leans forward, not able to bear another second without, but just before he can get that release, you lean back.

He voices his frustration wordlessly and you giggle. “So desperate, aren’t you?”

“You’re teasing me,” he says, a whine in his voice.

“I’ll make it up to you,” you say, bringing your lips to the side of his neck. Choso gasps, a sweet sound, and when you open your mouth, licking a stripe on his skin, his fingers squeeze your waist.

“Fuck,” he says, breath shaky. Enjoying his reactions, you begin to suck on his skin, earning another swear and no doubt leaving a mark. You push yourself into him, and his back hits the wall, his chin raised, exposing more of his neck to be kissed.

With your body flat against his, it’s easy to feel the hardness beneath his waist. He's so eager; you only kissed him a few times. You slide your hand past his collarbone, down his chest, slender but strong, down to just above his aching erection.

Choso is caught off guard. “What are you”—you palm it—“ngh…shit, that feels so…”

“You like it?” you ask, proud because you already know the answer. His eyes are pressed shut as he nods.

“Use your words,” you say, squeezing his erection—he winces—“and I’ll make you feel even better.”

You continue to rub your hand over the erection pushing through his robe in slow, circular strokes as he forces himself to speak. “Yes, I—ah—like it—a lot.”

“So good,” you tell him. The simple praise makes his dick twitch against your palm.

Your eyes flick down to his white pants, billowing in fabric. You tug at it, but it doesn’t move.

“It’s–uh–all one thing.” He blushes, the color prominent on his pale cheeks. “Do you want me to take it off?”

You nod, and he clumsily pulls off his purple and white robe. You still haven’t been able to place what he’s dressed up as, but you don’t offer that thought another second when Choso stands in front of you, naked and impatiently waiting for whatever it is you'll do to him next.

You don’t deprive him long, stepping forward and running your fingers over his bare chest. Yes, you were able to feel how strong he was when you had your body pressed against his, but being able to see the defined ridges of his torso makes his strength unquestionable. He shivers under your fingers, needing more, needing you to touch him lower than you are.

“Can you…?” He’s squirming against the wall, looking down at you with needy eyes. “Sorry, it just feels so,” he exhales, the breath uneven, “so good.”

“Yeah?” you say, wrapping your hand around his length. It’s hot and throbbing. “You want me to touch you here?”

“Yes,” he whimpers, “There. Please.”

You begin to move your hand up and down his erection in a loose fist, spreading the precum dripping from his tip down his length, and adding some of your spit to coat it completely. Choso’s head falls back against the wall and he meets your hand with shallow thrusts of his hips.

“You’re so sensitive,” you notice. He’s reacting so sweetly to your every movement, every soft swipe of your thumb over his tip, every kiss you press to his neck as you stroke him. “I like it.”

You like it enough to get on your knees on the cold, hard closet floor, and position his length in front of your mouth, just so you can get even more of a reaction from him.

“What?” Choso gasps, “What are you doing?”

“Making you feel good,” you coo, pumping him a few more times—which quickly stops the questions and starts the moans—and then take him into your mouth.

He spasms, hand tangling in your hair, unsure of whether he should pull you away or push you further down on him.

“You’re so warm…and wet,” Choso gets out.

You hum your response, something that only makes him tighten the strong fingers knotted into your hair, and keep going, working your mouth around his dick. You wrap your hands around the backs of his thighs, bracing yourself as you take him in deeper with every bob of your head. He fills your throat significantly, so you take a few breaks, kissing and sucking on his tip as you catch your breath.

Choso doesn’t seem to mind that it’s hard to take his full length, he’s too busy writhing from the sensation of your mouth on him. He's new to all this, not able to process or understand what you're doing and why it feels so fucking good. But explanations don't matter, not when the pretty girl in the outfit that made him hot just from looking at it is on her knees for him, dedicated to blessing him with a pleasure that doesn't belong to this universe.

“Fuck, please–ah–keep going, feels so good.”

Choso's moans are filling the closet and he’s holding onto you for dear life. His thighs are shaking enough to make you worry his legs will give out. “Feel like I’m gonna die,” he murmurs, lost in pleasure.

You’d smile in victory if you weren’t so focused on getting him there, and with the way he’s tensing up, he’s close. It’s funny, how he’s gonna cum already; he must’ve been worked up from the beginning.

You dig your fingers into the thick muscle of his thighs, holding on as he takes over, placing his hands on the side of your head to keep you still, and sloppily slipping his length in and out of your mouth. You squeeze your eyes shut, and it’s obvious that you’re taking him well because he’s choking on his own moans, incoherent as he slurs his words.

“I can’t–fuck–oh–please–please–”

A final thrust into your mouth and his hot cum is pouring down your throat. It’s salty, but you’re able to swallow it, coughing a little as he pulls himself out of you. Then his strong arms come down under your armpits and lift you to your feet as if you weighed nothing. He pulls you into his body, gasping and shuddering as he recovers from the orgasm. Poor thing.

You press gentle kisses on his collarbone, soothing him. “You’re okay, Choso. You did so good.”

“Really?” Choso responds, his face nuzzled in your shoulder. He presses a small kiss there.

“Mhmm,” you affirm, smoothing his tied-up hair.

A rumble shakes the ground beneath you.

You swear, taking a step back to see the makeshift barricade you set up come crashing to the ground. Someone enters the closet.

You hold Choso’s arm tight. Surely you're dead now. Who the fuck is this dude? He’s in a weird costume too, possibly a movie villain because he has stitches all along his skin, even all over his face.

“Ah, Choso! There you are!” The patch-faced man is indifferent to Choso’s lack of clothing. He regards you, his grin unsettling. “And you have a friend.”

Choso’s face darkens, “She’s mine.”

“So territorial!” The intruder leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms. “I wasn’t gonna do anything…not to a friend of yours.” His words are lined with a playful deceit. “I’ll find someone else to have fun with.”

He turns on his heel, but before he leaves he says, “One more thing! Does this mean you’re out of our little game? Occupied with”—his slimy gaze oozes over you—“something else?”

“You’re not to lay a hand on Yuji Itadori,” Choso states, narrowing his eyes.

“No way! Guess you'll have to stop me then!” the man jeers, grinning like a bratty child as he disappears from the doorframe.

Choso turns to you. “I need to go help my brother…but not before I get you somewhere safe,” he says. Choso dresses quickly as you watch in a dumbfounded silence. What the fuck is going on?

He wraps a heavy arm around you and leads you out of the closet into the destroyed Shibuya station.

“Trust me, I’ll take care of you.”

Unable to make sense of anything that’s going on, you have no choice but to believe him.

#choso kamo x reader #choso kamo smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #choso x y/n #kamo choso #choso kamo #choso x reader #choso smut

[alyakthedorklord]

Chiroptophobia: the Fear of Bats.

Bruce Wayne is Scared of Bats. This is a Canon Fact.

In a difference from canon, Batman pretends to actually BE a bat man.

(Again, “Loading and Aspect Ratio” by JUBE514 situation with fake wings. Please go read it I love it so much.)

Bruce turns himself into a physical manifestation of his personal worst nightmares, and sets out to be a street cryptid. People see him flinching from bright lights and loud noises (he hasn’t slept in three days and he really hates guns) twitching weirdly (testing his wings function/stimming) not fully understanding human social niceties (you cannot tell me this man isn't Autistic) and, duh, wings, and go ah yes this being is Inhuman.

However, people KNOW Brucie Wayne™ is petrified of bats. There was an incident at a party when one flew through a window, another at a zoo, there was this one time Manbat showed up and he practically teleported away. No one saw him for a whole month, even after Batman had captured Manbat. (He got injured in the fight.)

By extension, this means that Bruce Wayne is afraid of Batman. Just- absolutely terrified of him. No ones seen them in the same place. Ever. Bruce Wayne actually publicly refuses to even believe in the cryptid for YEARS past when he's already been proven to exist.

When the Justice League gets called in to protect Bruce and his smattering of children from some plot (batman conspicuously absent, despite Gotham being his territory) Bruce straight up tells the league that he doesn’t believe in Batman, and he feels much safer with “real heroes” rather than “a urban legend spawned from overdramatic furries and gang wars.”

The justice league is, obviously, confused.

Certified little shits Dick, Jason, and Tim, (because we’re going with JUBE514’s canon and jason doesn’t die they’re all brothers f off-)

ANYWAYS: Certified Little Shits Dick, Jason, and Tim, ready for chaos/solidifying secret identities: “Don’t worry! We believe in batman! We saw him!” :D

They then proceed to tell the justice league that Bruce HAS met Batman, but he has a phobia of bats, so when Batman saved them at a gala Bruce screamed so loud and shrill he threw off the bat-hearing and then punched batman in the face so hard he knocked him out cold, grabbed then-baby Jason and ran. (Nightwing and the second Robin had to HEROICALLY rescue a dazed Batman, Dick saw it with his own eyes!)

Bruce was so scared of the bat coming to take revenge that he jumped at every shadow for a whole month. Why, Jason, (who was younger then) had slept in Bruce's bed to keep him safe! (Dick is crooning about his cute little brother. Jason, who is hitting his growth spurt and not a little kid anymore, is infinitely embarrassed.) Right now, Brucie has settled into firmly denying Batman’s entire existence so that he can sleep soundly at night.

“Why is he so scared of bats?” The Justice League is wondering. Oh, they are so glad they asked!

“Alfred told us a story once,” Dick says, eyes wide and innocent as he prepares to lie through his fucking teeth, “that when Bruce was little, really little, he got trapped in a cave filled with bats, and his dad had to come rescue him. Apparently, Little Bruce had been crying about a massive bat, even bigger than he was, with glowing red eyes and human hands and (gasp) wait oh my goodness gracious what if that was the BATMAN :0”

“The baby batman.” Jadon adds.

“Batboy?” Tim wonders.

“Alfred, do you think Bruce met Batman when they were little?” Dick asks.

“I believe,” Alfred “the greatest enabler” Pennyworth hums, offering fresh baked scones to thier gleeful audience, “that Master Bruce referred to what he saw as ‘the bat king’ and reported seeing him outside his window several times over the years.”

“Maybe it really was him! Will you ask Batman for us?” Tim asks, already planning to hack the watchtower cameras and set up some popcorn with his brothers.

The Justice League, who have learned more about the Batman in one conversation than they have over MANY years of working together, tell the Wayne children that it will be their Genuine Pleasure to quiz batman on his interactions with BRUCIE WAYNE who has, apparently, laid batman out cold with one punch.

Alfred adds on that he personally thinks the Batman is being rather courteous to Master Bruce, as “bat king” sightings were after “difficult times” and he doesn’t come near the manor otherwise, as robin had been the one to return some family heirlooms that one time they were stolen. He calls the batman and his robins “polite young gentlemen” and then leaves.

But now the gears are turning in the justice leagues heads. Batman? Courteous? Polite? Batman is not Courteous or Polite. Not unless something else is going on.

Now. From their point of view. Batman lives in the cave systems under the richest houses in Gotham, Phantom of the Opera style, hiding his meta form (because this batman is playing cryptid really well. Maybe he was a mutant baby of some Rich Gothamites, who threw him into the caves in shame!) He’s been watching Bruce Wayne, likely as he struggled with the highly reported on demise of his parents, seeing the effects that crime had on the boy that fell into his cave all those years ago. Batman has always been so protective of children, so hateful of guns, obviously the Wayne tragedy is part of what motivates him. He loves Gotham dearly, territorial of it to the point of keeping other heroes out, and yet he breaks that rule here, for Gotham's prince, solely for Bruce’s comfort.

Bruce, another person who obviously loves the city of Gotham just as much, putting millions into charity and relief efforts. Who is clearly very protective of his children, even if he usually has no spine, to the point of attacking his greatest fear to keep then safe, and good enough to land a hit, even. (Bruce Wayne is also considerably attractive.)

Its all so clear to the Justice League: Batman is madly in love with Bruce Wayne. Has been for years. To the point of watching him sleep, on occasion. How very tragic! Batman, in love with someone he can never be with! Not only would it paint a massive target on Bruce’s back if they ever did get together- there’s no questioning what Gotham villains would do if they discovered this, (and denying himself love out of an attempt to keep others safe is EXACTLY the kind of self-sacrificing nonsense Batman would pull) But Batman can’t even truly see the man he’s in love with without Brucie running away in terror! Well, the poor guy… how sad…

This conclusion can be supported by the following evidence-

Batman’s first appearance being right after Bruce Wayne returned to Gotham. Was the bat following him to protect him in those missing years? Or maybe he decided to clean up the city now that his beloved had returned?

Batman always being seen near where Bruce is. He’s never once been at the watchtower when Bruce has a public appearance- he must be watching over him, a silent guardian in case someone gets it in their head to kidnap Gotham’s Prince.

Batman insisting that Bruce is innocent in a corporate scheme, despite evidence to the contrary. (Hes right in the end, of course, but they’ve never seen him ignore evidence so clear.)

Batman casually referencing Wayne Tech/Foundation inner workings- he keeps an eye on them, of course. (If he can’t be close to the object of his affections, the league reasons, of course he’d make sure that Bruce’s company and projects are on the right track)

Nightwing, when asked, confirms the Bruce Punching Batman story. He says “honestly I think B was impressed! Caught him off guard!” (Since when does Batman lower his guard? Only when he’d be… distracted, perhaps…)

Superman saves Bruce, who thanks him with a kiss on the cheek. Later, justice league was teasing Clark, batman huffs and leaves the room. He’s CLEARLY jealous! Superman feels just awful!

Batman inexplicably knowing social dances/high society manners- he must have learned by watching (stalking) bruce! He can navigate high profile talk if he wants to, he just doesn’t want to most of the time. but if the situation calls for it he can talk like the Richest of Pricks in a way that only comes with observation.

Batman bristling when some of the league members start making Comments on Brucie Wayne’s Physical Attributes. (Jealousy? Defensiveness? Perhaps… embarrassment at GL’s detailed explanation on what he’d do with a chance in bed with Brucie.)

Batman absolutely freezing up when confronted with any of the above evidence. (He’s trying SO HARD not to laugh/go tell his kids)

Dick/Jason being big enough to wear the Bat-wings rather than thier own and be convincing- they save Bruce, though the man passes out (from fear? Blood loss from an injury? Perhaps- he is faking) and Dick/Jason, either out of genuine concern for their dad or general “how can i stir the pot” chaos, gently strokes his hair away from his face in an act of compassion that the cameras just so happen to catch. (There’s a few tears shed in the justice league- poor batman! He can’t be with his love!)

The robins (in both identities) telling the justice league that they've seen batman watching him.

“oh yeah he does background checks on aaaaaall bruces conquests. Had a conniption when brucie found a mafia boss that one time.”

“And when he found out Bruce and Two-face had a fling!”

(The league notes that often, if a criminal gets too close to Brucie, they’re put away not long after. B is usually collecting evidence in his civilian ID. But it looks like angry Batman wanted them to get the hell away from his mans.)

The Justice League is swooning over this tragic, forbidden love story. Batman is a little creepy but hey. He apparently grew up in a cave system. Its a wonder he's as well adjusted as he is. Batman has their sympathy, he seems less unflappable/untouchable, they’re a little more understanding with him now. Superman is all too happy to be a rebound, if needed. There are magic users offering glamour spells. Green Lantern is making exposure therapy innuendos.

The robins can’t believe how lucky they got. They’re def grounded but B can’t be too mad bc his secret identity is FUKIN SET.

Alfred is rather proud of Batman's new nickname in the league being “the bat king” and keeps sending batman along with cookies. The league thinks Batman is checking up on bruce with his butler. Its a mess.

Eventually, Batman loses a bet to one of his kids. Committing to the Bit with an exasperated sigh (he’s definitely not having fun, shut up jason.)

He admits to his crush.

#cryptid batman #brucie wayne #wing fic #justice league #dc universe #dc prompt #when the league finds out they’re almost offended #b just sheugs and say they drew their own conclusions #also his robins and alfred were having fun #bruce wayne #batman #bruce wayne x batman #superbat

[mylittleredgirl]

i know some of you have been pressing your faces to the glass waiting for me to see this one in particular SO i saw "the nurses" the other night and am still thinking about it!!

i love love love it when characters get pushed to a point where you can almost see their childhood selves pop out, like are they even talking about what's happening right now? or are their 12-year-old hearts just screaming?? i love that margaret's outburst is both irrational (the hostile work environment is coming from inside the house; i was yelling at my tv "baby it's your fault!!!") and so so honest.

[this turned into a bit of a character thesis, so not only is there a readmore, there will also be a reblog soon with the rest of the post because i maxed out the image limit] [edit: part ii now in the reblogs!]

this whole time, margaret has treated her subordinates with a heavy hand because she thinks it's the right and fair thing to do. the rules say this is how it works!

she maintains a high standard of excellence in brutal circumstances, but she's also reactive, moody, and unforgiving. she's often shown on the edge of losing control and authority, she inflames situations by overreacting, and the thing she punishes most egregiously is disrespect (toward frank, toward the army, toward herself). she intentionally underlines the distance between herself and the other nurses at every turn.

from season 3 "there's nothing like a nurse": [all IDs in alt]

really, everything she thinks and does comes from a place of "they're not supposed to like me," but the childish part of her that is completely unable to see her own behavior is confused and hurt because "i'm just doing my job so why don’t they like me???"

it's her job to maintain discipline, but especially here in 4077-land, she doesn't have to lead with the whip. henry was beloved because he was an overly permissive clown, which will never be her speed, but colonel potter has all the same training as she does. he's loved and respected as the Good Regular Army Guy because he leads with discernment and mutual respect.

it's easier for him. he's more experienced, he's respected and supported from above and below, and he has a calm temperament — which isn't nothing.

from season 4 "the interview":

whether she's aware of this as a problem or not, we at home can see how margaret's inability to control her emotional reactivity causes her as much grief as her inability to control other people.

if she were capable of laughing off small slights, hawkeye and trapper wouldn't have used her as a chew toy so much, and henry might have taken her real concerns more seriously if they weren't lost in the noise of daily fits, you know? she rarely started it, so i'm not blaming her for the hostile chaos circus of seasons 1-3, but i am saying she would have had a better time if she knew how to take a few deep breaths.

this description from the script, after the near-brawl in the nurses' tent in act one, is basically her character thesis statement:

and here, when she's reacting fully emotionally, the truth comes out! the reason that she won't be flexible and show compassion to the nurses isn't because of the rules, but because they're mean to her!!

that's obviously a very bad place to lead from. she has enormous institutional power over them, including controlling their freedom of movement, but she feels like all the other girls in school are hanging out together and they hate her. because they are! and they do! the fight in act one boils over when they make fun of her hair, and that sent all of them back to middle school.

and in many ways, that's where margaret's emotional maturity is stuck (which is, i think, why i find her so endearing). she can't see herself. she knows they don't like her, trust her, or want her around, but she doesn't understand how she dug this hole herself, or how to get out of it.

to add insult to jealous injury, one of the nurses (mary jo, who gets between margaret and baker to stop the fight and takes care of the others in different ways) is margaret's age, and the others look to her as their chosen leader and personal support.

and i'm sure margaret had NO IDEA this was the messy truth until she heard it come out of her mouth.

and her emotionally breaking on the "one lousy cup of coffee" in particular…

i wonder, how often does some version of that first tent scene happen? does she deliver their assignments every night? she walks in already defensive, they immediately stop laughing, and then... she either finds a reason to scold them or they ice her out until she leaves. (and they probably start laughing again as soon as she does!)

from her perspective, when she arrived for the dreaded sleepover and they turned out the lights the minute she walked in, it's like they cancelled the nightly coffee klatch just to avoid spending one social minute with her.

i also think the nurses are right when they assumed that she wouldn't have accepted an invitation to hang out with them (and might even have snapped at them for being inappropriate for asking). she doesn't cross that emotional line, even when she should — she didn't know gaynor was spiraling after losing so many patients in a row, and didn't respond compassionately when she learned.

has she ever invited them for coffee or a friendly chat? no.

...... but her circumstances have recently changed.

[reblog with the rest of it is here!]

#margaret houlihan #mash #mashblogging #margaret is a holy hot mess and i love her sooooo much

[guccifrog]

WRONG NUMBER P13

matt sturniolo x f!reader

y/n's pov ☆

It has been exactly five hours since they discovered the mix-up. Chris, Jimmy, and Marylou decided to go check the police station to see if they could find any updates about Matt.

Me and Nick decided to go on a little drive in my car to clear our heads. As we were driving, I could feel the tension in the air. Nick kept looking out the window, lost in his thoughts, while I tried to think of something to say to make him feel better.

"Hey, you know, at least there is still a chance that this is some sort of mistake, right?" I said to Nick, trying to sound more optimistic than I felt. "They're working on finding Matt and getting this sorted out. We just need to have faith in them."

He looked over at me, his eyes red from crying. "Yeah, you're right," he said, his voice barely audible.

We drove around for a while longer, neither of us saying much. The silence was almost painful, but neither of us knew what to say to make it better. Finally, Nick spoke up, breaking the silence. "I keep thinking about that guy on the bed. How his family must feel right now. It's just…unbelievable."

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. The image of that man, so peaceful in his sleep, haunted me. I couldn't imagine the pain his family must be going through, thinking he was gone when he was really just a victim of this horrible mistake.

"Do you think he was rich though?" I asked smirking slightly "Like, really rich? Cause he looked pretty comfortable to me. I mean, that bed was like a fucking cloud." Nick chuckled a little, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips.

"I'm just saying, maybe after this mess is done, I'll go ask him to be my sugar daddy if he's still alive" I joked, trying to lighten the mood.

"stop oh my god," Nick said giggling "What? your girl needs a little money to feel better" I said with a smirk. "You know, if he was rich, I bet he'd be more than willing to help a girl out." I glanced over at Nick, trying to gauge his reaction. He was smiling, I grinned satisfied that I'd managed to make him laugh.

We drove in silence for a few more minutes before Nick decided to break the silence again " I'm so mad we met in these fucked up circumstances, you know?" I smiled softly at him " Well at least we met, right? I mean, even if it's under these horrible conditions. Maybe one day we'll look back at this and laugh about it." He snorted a little "So real girl "

We decide to grab some coffee from Starbucks to clear our heads. As we sit there, talking about random things or scrolling through our phones, I take a sip of my coffee, burning the roof of my mouth. "Ouch, damn it's hot," I complain, blowing on the coffee.

Nick suddenly shoots up from his seat, staring at his phone with wide eyes "Oh my god" he says. "what? What is it?!" I ask him, my heart racing.

He looks at me with his mouth agape, trying to find the right words. " It's Matt…they found Matt!!" he exclaims, his voice cracking.

I feel my whole body go limp with relief. "They found him at a different hospital !" He hugs me tightly, tears streaming down his face. I'm crying too, unable to contain my happiness. We sit there in the Starbucks, surrounded by the noise and chaos, but for a brief moment, nothing else matters but the fact that Matt is alive.

"Do you know what hospital?" I manage to ask between sobs, clinging to Nick.

"Chris sent me the address, let's go," He says, already halfway out of the seat. I follow him, feeling a mixture of excitement and fear as we both know what we're about to face.

The drive seems to take forever, but eventually, we pull up to the hospital and spot Jimmy's car in the parking lot. Our feet are moving before we even have the chance to think, hurrying into the building.

We find Chris and Marylou in the waiting room, looking just as relieved as we feel. They jump up when they see us, and we embrace tightly, not wanting to let go.

It feels like we're all holding our breath, waiting for the moment when we can see Matt again. The nurse finally calls our names, and we follow her down the hallway.

Our steps slow as we approach the door, our hearts racing. The nurse pushes it open, revealingn none other than Matt lying in the bed.

He looks tired and pale. We all rush forward, surrounding his bed.

"Hey buddy, you're gonna be okay," Chris says, squeezing his hand. The nurse cleared her throat making us turn to look at her.

"The good news is that he's alive," the nurse started. "He's still unconscious, but he's stable for now. He'll probably be unconscious for a few days but don't worry he'll wake up" She paused for a moment

" However, he suffered severe injuries, There is a chance that he may never regain full cognitive function or the ability to walk."

The words hang in the air, heavy.

"come again?" Chris said, his eyes wide with shock.

"Oh God," I whisper, smacking my hand over my mouth. I feel like I've been punched in the gut. Can't we just have one good thing today?

"you're joking right?" Nick asks, his voice cracking. The nurse rolled her eyes before shaking her head no. The fuck is this bitch rolling her eyes for?

taglist ☆

@mattestrella @chrisfavoritepepsi @sunsetsturniolos @littlebookworm803 @sturniozo @sturniolooooo @athaliahxoxo @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @ev3rgreenxtrees @nonamegirlxsturniolo @crybabycat1 @mooniethesimp31 @ducksturniolo @ifilwtmfc @pepsiimaxx @sleepysturnss @lustfulslxt @ilovemattsworld @hrt-attack @flowerxbunnie @leprechaunbirthdaygirl @secret-sturniolo @iluvmeeen @that-general-simp @swangelss @familynotfandom @fuckshitslover @styles-sturniolo @lvr-111 @opheliaofficial07 @kiarastromboli @hearts4chriss

#matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo x you #matt #matthew sturniolo x you #matthew bernard sturniolo #matthew sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #the sturniolo triplets #sturniolo #christopher owen sturniolo #chris sturniolo x y/n #lets trip tour #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo texts #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo fluff #christopher sturniolo texts #let's trip #fresh love

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Life in the City 3

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bad friends, creep behaviour, abuse of power dynamics, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You move to the big city and find yourself swallowed up by its chaos.

Characters: Clark Kent, Thor Odinson, short!reader

Note: A brief reprieve from the snakish prince.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you. No tag list, do not ask for updates.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You sleep lightly, A restless night that leaves your skull fragile. You give up your attempts as the sun rises through the windows. You sit up and stretch, looking around the soft hues limning the walls of Melanie’s apartment.

You stand and move cautiously through the space. You change in the bathroom, doing your best not to make too much noise as you go out to grab your bag. You brush your teeth and tidy up. You’ll have a shower when you get home.

You emerge and look around, making sure you haven’t left anything out. You take the time to clean up the snacks from the night before and place everything away in the cupboard. You know Melanie’s on a diet but it feels wrong to take it all back with you.

As you zip up your bag, a shadow darkness the hallway and you look up as Clark tussles his dark hair and stretches. You glimpse at him briefly, mortified to find him shirtless, his hard torso exposed above the low elastic of his sweatpants.

“Morning,” his voice is silty with sleep, “what… are you leaving already?”

“Well, I… I should head off. Get out of your way,” you shrug as you speak quietly, “plus, I got chores…”

“Oh, do you need a ride,” he lets his hand drag down his chest as you shift awkwardly, clinging to your knapsack.

“Um, that’s nice, but I’ll just catch the bus–”

“The bus?” He echoes, “let me throw on a shirt and get myself together. I can’t let you just sneak off.”

“Erm, I guess… I could wait and say goodbye to Melanie, I just thought–”

“Yeah, she won’t be up for a while,” he drops his arms, his chest puffed proudly, “you know, she drank a lot. She wasn’t feeling too well. You didn’t hear her?”

“What? I…” you blink and avoid his gaze, “I was asleep, I didn’t hear anything.”

“Oh, yeah, she was sick in the middle of the night. Pretty bad. I tell her not to drink on an empty stomach.”

“Ah, uh, yeah, that’s awful,” you sputter, “I… I’m sorry to rush out, it’s just I got a lot to catch up.”

“No problem. I’ll save you waiting for the bus,” he says, “won’t be long at all.”

“Oh, okay, but–”

“Really, it’s no trouble. If I don’t wake her up with a real latte, she’ll bite my head off,” he chuckles, “hungover Melanie is not nice Melanie.”

“Right,” you try to laugh but it’s more a croak, “I’ll just be… here then.”

🏙️

You sit in the car silently. The tension is roiling. You don’t know why you agreed. You could have insisted; the bus won’t be long…

Too late for that. You’re stuck now. At least there’s not much traffic. You hug your bag in your lap, anxious to just get home. He drives patiently despite the empty streets, taking his time as he turns onto the next street.

“So, chores, sounds exciting,” he teases.

“Mm, yeah, I guess,” you agree squeakily.

“What else are Saturday’s for? Guess you’re headed back to work on Monday?”

You nod, “mhmm.”

“How is it? Work? You making lots of friends?”

You almost feel like a kid. It reminds you of when your dad would pick you up from school and ask what trouble you go into. You twiddle your fingers against your bag.

“Um, well, everyone sort’ve keeps to themselves,” you eke out, “there’s a lot of work so…”

“You’ll settle in. I’m sure you’ll find lots of friends,” he slows and flips on his blinker, “I mean, you already have.” You tilt your head and glance at him in confusion, “me.”

“Oh, uh, sure, yeah, sorry, I’m tired,” you laugh nervously.

“So,” he rolls into the lot of the Coffee Bean, “want something?”

“You don’t have to–”

“I’m stopping by anyway, no biggie,” he insists, “coffee, tea?”

You pick at the zipper of your bag. He’s so nice. Too nice. But that’s not a real problem, you’re just making it into one. Last night… what did he do so wrong? Pull a blanket over you? It was cold.

“Sure, could I just get an iced green tea, please and thank you?” You unzip your bag and fish around.

He steers into the drive through and puts in his order at the speaker, listing off Melanie’s complicated lite syrup, half-foam, coconut milk monstrosity at the end. You pull out your wallet as he’s directed to the window.

“My treat,” he insists.

“Really, it’s just three bucks.”

“Exactly,” he insists, “you brought all those treats last night, the least I can do is buy you an iced tea.”

“Thanks,” you sniff and look out the window.

“I’ll make sure Mel gives you a call. You two can hash this out,” he stops and waits at the window, “she needs a friend like you. All the others are so… well, they’re not as nice as you.”

“Maybe, I… if she wants to call. I don’t want to bug her.”

“Bug her? Oh, sweetie, she doesn’t deserve a friend like you,” he says, “but I’m being selfish and I think you’d be a good influence.”

You nod again, put off by his tone. It’s like he’s a parent the way he talks about Melanie. Almost like he’s trying to mould her into something. Someone like him, with his name and his looks, you’re sure he could find someone who already fits right in.

The window opens and he takes the tray of drinks. He hands you yours before sliding the other two into the cup holders. He flings the cardboard tray onto the backseat and continues through the exit. He idles at the signs.

“I forgot, which way am I going?” 

You point him in the right direction, nearly sighing in relief. You’re almost home. You just want to hide away in your shame and never be perceived again.

🏙️

You’re not very surprised when Melanie doesn’t call. Not on Saturday or Sunday. You’re grateful that she doesn’t. You’re trying to forget about the movie night gone wrong. It’s probably better off. You’ve both changed a lot since high school, or maybe you haven’t changed enough.

You go through your usual. You’re not a liar, you do have chores. Dishes, laundry, floors, dusting… You keep yourself busy in an effort to block out the memory of the night. You won’t be watching Never Been Kissed ever again, that’s for sure.

Monday morning greets you with a new start but it all feels so stale. The routine is the same as the weeks before. Wake up, green tea in a thermos, pack your lunch, make yourself presentable, and out the door to catch the bus.

You enjoy the route, letting it lull your pre-work jitters. You’ve been there going on a month and somehow you still feel out-of-place. It’s not like before, where you knew all the people at your work study, or in high school where the associates in the department store joked around more than they ever did the price changes.

You stroll up to the building, slowing behind a pair of men in tailored suits. You feel like a minnow in a sea of sharks. You follow them inside as they drop the door on you. They’re important. They’re chatting about an important meeting and business trip next week. You’ll be dutifully perched at your desk, roving through spreadsheets.

The salesmen are higher up the chain than you in the ecosystem of the company. You’re somewhere along the lower-middle ground, below the lions and the hyenas. You’re off with Timon and Pumbaa, trying not to get eaten.

You step onto the elevator with them, shrinking down. You’re invisible to them. You’re not Stella in her red-soled stilettos and tight pencil skirts, or Ginnifer in her high-buns and sleek pantsuits. You feel like a little girl playing dress up even in your simple powder blue cardigan and flowered skirt.

The elevator bings and the men nearly bowl you over as they brush past you on each side. You get off after them and scurry away to your desk. You see Stella now, sipping a tall latte as she purrs at Tony. She struts down the hall ahead of him as she calls back about some expense report.

You tuck your bag under your desk and get yourself situated. You plunk down your thermos beside your mouse and boot up. You roll your ankles under the desk, your Keds soft-soled but comfortable. You can’t run for the bus in heels.

You steel yourself for another day buried in Excel columns. You sign in and push back the cap on the lid of your cup. Steam escapes and you let the heat escape before you dare taste it. You pull up your inbox and scroll through your emails. Your task list is ever longer by the day.

Your work isn’t unimportant. You give the analytics to the salesman and the big suits. You provide the numbers for their strategy but for them, all that is menial. That’s not the real meat of the company. You and all the other ants in the hill are dispensable.

You push your chair back as you reach into your bag for your notebook. As you do, the back collides with something. You quickly roll back in, knocking your head on the edge of the desk as you do. You rub your brow as you spin to face the obstruction.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you babble up at the tall man. 

He’s big, blond, and burly, and wears a suit that demarcates him as one of them. You don’t need an introduction, everyone knows who he is. The COO is memorable for more than his title. His booming voice and towering size set him apart from all the other men in their leather shoes and skinny ties.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you stand but still have to crane your neck to look at him, “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“That’s quite alright,” he smiles broadly, “are you alright? You took quite a bump.”

“Oh,” you drop your hand from your head, “yeah, I’m fine, sir. Thank you. I was just… looking for something.”

“So long as you’re alright. However, I am the safety officer, I could have a look,” he offers.

“Really, I’m fine,” you insist, “I didn’t mean to do that–”

“I didn’t mind so much,” he assures you, “I don’t know you. You’re new. Leah’s replacement?”

“Um, I think,” you look at your desk, “I wouldn’t know.”

“Of course not,” he accepts, “Thor Odinson.”

He holds out his large hand. You consider it and give him your own. Your hand is tiny in comparison as he easily wraps his fingers around it. You supply your name with a squeak.

“Ah, I like that,” he praises, “well, you have a wonderful day. And welcome to the company.”

“Yes, sir,” you rescind your hand as he releases it. His cologne wafts towards you, vanilla underscored by something woodsy.

“Thor,” he affirms.

You repeat his name and clutch your hands together. He lingers, looking you up and down, then turns on his heel. You watch him go before you sit.

You want to hold your head and hide. What did he think of you? This girl in her thin wool cardigan and lace-up sneakers. You don’t know why you care so much. He’s your boss but not directly. He’s probably already forgotten about you.

You cringe and swirl your mouse around. Focus. You’re at work. This isn’t high school or college. This isn’t about making friends and all that. It doesn’t matter what he thinks of you, your work matters.

You lean into the screen and squint at the tight boxes, increasing their size as you open a new report. For all your studying, you never saw yourself sitting there fighting with numbers all day. Percentages, rates, medians, mean… how boring.

You jolt as you feel your bag buzz against your leg. You look behind you before you push your chair out this time and bring your bag into your lap. You retrieve your notebook as you remember the cause of your first folly then fish out your phone. 

You bring down the menu and set it to silent. Before you hit lock, you see the message beaming back at you. It’s from Melanie.

‘Hey girl. Let’s talk.’

You frown. You’d already accepted that Mel was done with you. She was always good at holding a grudge, even for the slightest offence. You wonder if Clark really had talked to her. You leave it unread and tuck your phone away, dropping your bag back to the floor and shoving it away with your toes.

As you return your attention to your monitor, you sense something behind it. There, across the room, you meet Thor’s eyes as he stares at you. He has a red mug of coffee in his hand as he sips. He pulls the brim away from his lips and grins, sending a wink in your direction.

You blink and look over your shoulder. Who is he looking at? You turn back to face him again. He’s gone. Ah, whoever it was, must’ve caught up to him.

You shake off the collision and the text message. Work!

#thor #dark thor #dark!thor #thor x reader #clark kent #dark clark kent #dark!clark kent #clark kent x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #life in the city #dcu #dc #superman #mcu #marvel #avengers #au

[ownedbyfictionalwomen]

secret

abby anderson x fem!reader

when you're stressed out of your mind and turning into a little bit of a brat, your girlfriend puts you back in your place... shame no one can know about her. smut + fluff + a little angsty! 18+ 2.3k words.

!r is owen's sister, a world with no apocalypse coz yay, pussy spanking, fingering, a whole lotta love, sweet abby, dom!abby, kinda mean!abby too!

The frustration was mounting inside you- he never listens. Owen had promised that he wouldn’t invite anyone over, that he wouldn’t make too much noise, and that he would let you study in peace. So why couldn’t you?

He and his friends set up camp in the living room, covering every square inch of space and forcing you back up into your bedroom, away from the little haven you had been cosied up in on the couch. All day, you had been minding your own business in that little slice of focused heaven, your laptop perched on your lap and study notes floating around you… Then he came and messed it all up.

You were one for routine and comfortability- being forced out of that had made your head spin. Now, your sheets and notebooks were in complete chaos thanks to him, all crumpled and jumbled, making your jaw clench in anger uncomfortably.

Just as you were about to sit down at your desk and sort through the chaos, you heard the front door open, a glass smash and the overwhelmingly loud voice of your brother- “Abby! Fucking finally. Get over here.” 

Abby Anderson.

You couldn’t help the little lovesick smile that graced your lips as you heard her voice, kindly greeting all her friends and ensuring everyone was okay. She was always so sweet, even though there were a lot of people who didn’t believe she was. It was her rare smile and muscled physique that made people a little standoffish. 

The two of you had been in love with each other for so long that you couldn’t even remember when it started. From the moment you saw her, you wanted her… but so had your brother. 

And so that’s the driving reason (or excuse) your love for her was still a secret. The fear of shattering Owen’s heart was a constant nagging worry in the back of your head, stopping you from smacking a sweet kiss on her lips everytime you saw her. 

That justification lasted for a few years, kept your kisses private and your moans quiet until Abby had grown tired of it- she wanted to grab you and sit you down on her lap whenever she needed to, she wanted to kiss you in public, she wanted to let the headboard pound against the wall whilst she showed you just how much you meant to her. 

But she knew how much Owen meant to you, and he meant a lot to her too; a brother to the both of you. But that’s all he’d ever be, that’s as far as Abby’s feelings for him could reach.

After managing to last an hour with their obnoxious pandemonium, it got too much; it clanged around in your ears and drilled into your brain every time you tried to put pen to paper. The copious amount of deep “calming” breaths you took did nothing to stop the little bead of anger expanding in your stomach.

You convinced yourself that you were just going downstairs to get yourself a glass of water, your real motivation wasn’t to give Owen a stern talking-to and try to signal Abby up to your room… definitely not.

With every thump of your slippers on the carpeted stairs, your headache got bigger, their commotion growing so loud you winced as you slipped past them and into the kitchen where Owen and Abby were stood bickering about how to fit all the beer into the fridge. They were so engrossed in their little booze-war that they didn’t hear you come.

“Hello…” you said, drawing out the greeting to give them a greater chance of hearing you (over all the fucking noise). 

Abby turned around almost instantly at the sound of your voice, trying her hardest not to let her eyes wander away from your stunning face as she noticed your braless chest in her periphery… suddenly her mind was plagued with memories of you, your perfect heavy breasts bouncing in her face as your slick pussy swallowed her strap all the way to the hilt. She always loved how your head would tip back and a breathless moan would escape whenever she sucked hickeys onto your delicate skin.

“Hi, Abby.” You spoke again, watching her eyes focus back in on your face, her sweet smile pointed right at you.

“Hey. You doing okay? You’ve got that big exam tomorrow, right?” she questioned, trying to distract her brain but not bothering to turn back and continue her conversation with your brother. Instead, she met you in the middle, leaning against the counter next to the sink as you grabbed a glass and began filling it. 

“Mhm… trying to get some last-minute studying in but… you guys are kinda loud.” You said, whispering the last part of your sentence in the hopes it wouldn’t come across as too harsh (and that Owen wouldn’t hear you).

Your wishes never came true.

“Jesus… would you stop bitching? Put your headphones on or something.” Owen cut in just as Abby was about to compliment your hair, picturing the way your cheeks would always blossom into a pretty pink at her sweet comments. 

“Owen,” Abby said in warning, watching your little smile dim into a straight line and a frown overcome your face. She wanted to wrap her strong arm around your waist and pull you into her chest, letting you rest your head in her neck.

“What?” 

“Don’t be an asshole.” 

“I’m the asshole? She’s done nothing but-”

The door into the hall looked more appealing with each passing second that you looked at it, just thinking about being in a room where Owen was not almost made tears of happiness peek out at the corners of your eyes. So you made your way out of the room and back up into yours, the faint and continuous bickering slowly dying out until you managed to close your door and it went completely. 

Of course, Manny’s raucous screaming hadn’t been drowned out.

It was just as you were climbing onto your bed and opening up your laptop that you noticed your door had reopened and Abby was leaning against the frame, her biceps bulging underneath her long sleeve shirt, the cotton perfectly sculpting her arms. 

“You okay, sweetie?” she asked, closing the door and turning the lock before she sauntered up to you, standing by the edge, just out of reach.

You nodded your head and gave her a brief smile, before turning back to your laptop and typing in your password. Abby sensed the sensitivity surrounding you, climbing up onto the bed and sitting just behind you and resting her head on your shoulder. 

Turning your head, you gave her a quick kiss on the forehead, then laid your cheek on the top of her hair, letting it tickle your face as she squeezed your thigh with a gentle grip. Abby picked up her head a few seconds later, her gaze zeroing in on yours before it dropped to your lips, a little bruised from your anxious nibbling.

“You worry too much.” She murmured, too entranced by your beauty to speak properly. Abby leaned in and slid her tongue over your bottom lip, teasing your mouth open so she could properly cover it with her own.

Just as you were about to draw back and defend yourself, you heard your laptop slam shut and felt two hands grab your hips. She pulled you up and into her chest, like she thought about earlier, as she laid back on your bed. When you were comfortably straddling her own hips, she placed her hands behind her head and looked up at you, laughing at your cute annoyed expression.

“And you’re a distraction.” You whispered, leaning down to get another kiss, your wet lips needily slipping over hers as her hand wrapped around the back of your neck, pulling you impossibly closer. 

Your own hands wrapped around the sides of her head, holding her still so she had no way to escape the assault on her lips: you bit her bottom one hard, before flicking the top one with your tongue. The minute contact made her whine, low and deep in the back of her throat as you turned your attention to her cheeks, placing sweet little kisses on any free space you could find.

“Kiss me right.” She complained, giving your bare thighs a rough smack. You leaned back and shuffled forward, so your hips were placed directly above her stomach, and you could feel the ridges of her abs against your most sensitive parts.

Abby’s complaints ceased when she felt you rock against her, the warmth from your pussy leaking through the fabrics that separated you two. She leaned up on her elbows, wanting to offer her girl more pleasure, leaving her body for you to use. Once she heard that first pretty little moan slip out of you, she couldn’t stop herself from reaching for the hem of your shirt and forcing it up and over your head.

Closing your eyes, you felt her hands skim your front gently, from your shoulders to your stomach, then back up to your breasts that were wrenched free from the constraint of your bra; the cups pulled down away from your flesh as Abby sucked a nipple into her mouth. You took your hands from her neck and reached behind you, unclipping your bra and throwing into on the floor.

“Feels good, Abs.” You whimpered, as she gripped both your breasts harshly, squeezing them and licking at both of your nipples. You released a breathy moan when you felt her teeth dig into your sensitive skin. “Fuck…”

“Take these off, baby.” Abby helped you out of your little shorts, taking your underwear with them as you leaned back and let her yank them down your thighs. You sat between hers, facing her with your hands gripping the duvet by her ankles, your legs closed and knees up to your chest, blocking her view from your slick pussy. 

She held still, waiting for you to reveal yourself to her. But you wouldn’t.

When Abby reached forward, hands wrapping around each of your ankles, you pulled back further, her grip slipping off of you.

“Take off your shirt… then I’ll think about opening my legs.” 

Your girlfriend raised an eyebrow in disbelief, then grabbed your ankles again, this time managing to pull your legs apart and haul you back towards her so your ass was nestled perfectly between her thighs.

The force of her pull made you lose your balance, your back hit the bed and you laid there defenceless with your legs spread open. Abby landed a harsh slap on your pussy, her hand coming away dripping with your juices as a pained scream quietly rushed out of your mouth.

“Fuck, Abby.” 

“Don’t you ever try and hide this from me.” She ground out, her jaw clenched in anger as she pinched your clit harshly between her fingers, watching your puffy little hole leak. Abby slipped her finger inside you easily, picking up your wetness, before pulling away and sucking it clean from her skin, tasting you. 

“More, baby. Fill me up.” You begged, lifting your hips up off the bed, chasing her fingers.

“Anything for my sweet girl.” 

You felt the sheets growing wet beneath you as Abby rubbed your clit in small circles, slowing her pace whenever your moans got too loud or you got too close. She couldn’t take her eyes off of you; your pretty face blushing as you squeezed your breasts, the heavy flesh spilling out between your fingers and driving Abby insane.

“Fuckfuckfuck…” Two fingers slipped inside you, up to the hilt, unforgiving. The delicious stretch around her made Abby plunge them in and out at a ruthless speed, drawing loud moans from you every second. Your volume grew with every thrust, you couldn’t control it.

You could feel your high growing deep in your tummy, slowly flooding downwards as Abby scissored her fingers inside of you, stretching out your sensitive hole until it was almost painful. You leaned up to grab her wrist, to slow the torture, but you were met with another cruel slap against your sensitive skin.

Abby ignored your pleas, continuing her sweet torment on your pretty pussy, forcing you closer and closer towards the edge with every circle she drew on your clit.

“My girl. Aren’t you, baby?” She asked, punctuating every word with a rough thrust into your fucked-out walls. 

“Mhm, yeah- oh fuck- all yours, Abs.” You breathed out, moaning loudly at another severe spank. “I’m gonna cum.” 

Abby pushed harder, went deeper, rubbed faster; anything to get her perfect girl to where she needed to be. You clenched tightly around Abby, flawless white cream leaking out around her fingers, making her moan quietly at the sight.

It gushed out of you unexpectedly, soaking your soft inner thighs, as well as Abby’s hands. Your last moan peaked at the top of your voice, filling the room as she pulled you up and into her chest, letting you ride out your high in her arms.

“Oh my god.” You said, taking your time to catch your breath as you rubbed your hands up and down Abby’s back- the feeling of her muscles under your palms putting a secure feeling in your chest. I’ve got you.

“You feeling better, baby?” Abby asked, hoping she had at least relieved some of your stress.

“Mhm… much better.” The two of you pressed your foreheads together gently at your admission, closing your eyes, stealing gentle kisses whenever you felt like it and saying little ‘i love you’s. 

Held in your little dream world, neither of you heard the fury-filled footsteps until it was too late and your door was being pounded on- “What the fuck are you two doing?” 

#abby anderson fluff #abby anderson tlou2 #abby anderson smut #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x female reader #tlou2

[m-ayo-o]

　✦　˚ your hot psycho course mate ★⋆. ࿐࿔

𐙚 light blackmails reader (she knows a little about kira) into doing his bidding with the death note -_- college au [21+]

*　✦　.　nsfw cw: DARK CONTENT non consent: reader is blackmailed → dubious consent: she enjoys it. threat, murder, oral, toy use; clit clamp, ring gag. overstimulation, squirting  ˚　.   *

He's your snobby stuck up college course mate and there's nothing about him that you like. He's a smug fucking bastard and you wish he'd stop staring at you in class.

Luck isn't on your side, since he gets you to himself when you're paired into a group project together. Typical, that you get put with this creep.

He manages to lure you back to his place because it's bigger and more comfortable than your small single apartment.

And that's when he first shows you it...

A black book...

It looks simple enough, but when he pulls it out of the drawer you start to shiver and he tells you what he could do to you... if you disobeyed him.

"What the fuck are you talking about," you knew he was weird, but this is too much, "Light?"

"Get on your knees"

He gives you a smirk like he expects you to do what he says. He knows you will sooner or later.

But you laugh and scoff.

"What?"

Your laughter turns nervous when he just keeps staring and you stutter something about needing to leave. But his left hand circles around your wrist in a bruising grip and his right finds a pen.

"Stay still"

The TV is on. Some stupid talk show.

He scribes something down on the white lined paper. A name, in immaculate handwriting.

He's finished. Time goes slack.

"Watch"

He takes your chin between his fingers and points your face towards the screen.

He studies his watch.

"Now"

Your eyes are glued to the TV. Your lip starts to tremble and you see one of the talk show contestants start to convulse. His whole body shakes, he chokes out a few terrible noises and collapses right there on the set.

The entire TV station descends into chaos and the channel abruptly goes blank.

"See?"

It's him, it's really him. Kira is real. And he's in your class. Undetected... A normal student???

"No-"

There's nothing normal about him.

Your eyes blink up to meet his hollow glare and you slowly shake your head, terrified.

"Come here," his hand slithers up your arm and rests on your shoulder- the one he knows you hurt in netball practice the other week- and he squeezes. You wince and he pulls you closer.

"Say no again, pretty girl"

You didn't.

And when he touched you, god, all you could think about was how good it felt...

Your pleasure points... Your pain... He controls it all...

And you succumb to his touch until your wrists are bound to his bedframe, your eyes are bleary from it all and you momentarily lose sight of him.

"Light?"

You call out like you need him.

His body looms over you. He removed his shirt and pants. He stripped you bare.

He has something in his hand.

"What's that.."

He hushes you and slips something cold and hard in your mouth. It feels like a circle. Your mouth is forced open. You can still breathe.

You gasp and he lets out a sinister chuckle.

Then attaches a toy to your clit.

"Oo-wh--"

You can't talk.

"Don't worry it'll feel good."

It clamps onto you hard and starts buzzing.

The vibrations are so intense your eyes well up with fresh tears of overstimulation and he watches your legs twitch and your hips buck with a painfully hard orgasm. You can't control it. Liquid starts spilling out of you and the mattress feels unbearably wet. Your arms tug at the ropes and you let out some cute weak noises from the confines of your ring gag.

"Haha, wow, you look cute when you squirt" he finally takes his boxers off and shows you what he's packing...

"Uh-" your efforts to back away only get him harder.

He approaches you and climbs over your body, pressing his knees either side of your shoulders and he slaps your face with his dick.

"You can't say no, remember?"

You're not in a position to say no.

Do you even want to?

Your mouth gapes and you start drooling, the vibrations continue and you feel like you're about to cum again. Your eyes flutter back and he calls you a good little slut before sinking his cock through the metal ring and over your wet tongue.

He gets himself off with your mouth but you can barely suck him due to the compromising metal ring. Your saliva drips everywhere; down your chin, over your neck, and he starts using your throat.

He hums with pleasure when you gag and everything gets a bit dirty and hot and you swear you've never been so turned on in your life.

He finally takes his cock out and releases you from the gag...

The first words that spill out of your mouth leave you shocked. But he's not surprised at all.

Just amused.

"Light- fuck-- fuck me??"

Your thighs are holding onto the clit clamp so tight he can barely open your legs.

But when he manages to spread them and finds the mess you've made... your juice so slick and dripping in filthy strings from your thighs...

"Oh," he lets out a moan, "good girl"

His praise and that expression on his face make him look so... hot. Your body shudders at the thought of finding him so attractive but he coaxes out a few more whimpered noises to the tune of begging and he slides his cock through your mess.

"Now, aren't you so glad we played this little game?"

A game of blackmail and murder.

You nod slowly and he tells you how pretty you look. Your pussy starts throbbing and sucking him in and, with the vibrator still on full power, he sinks in and you cum over his cock instantly.

"Finally got something to cum around, huh. Feel good, angel?"

You nod and he fucks you stupid.

You can't stop asking him for more and he gives you exactly what you want.

He gets everything he needs and more and he thinks this could be quite a nice arrangement.

Now, after college, you get yourselves into a little routine and, even after your group project is finished, you make a habit of getting fucked by your hot psycho course mate.

#light yagami smut #light yagami x reader #light x reader #light yagami death note #yagami light #death note smut #death note fanfiction #deathnote #tw: death #tw: murder #tw: noncon #tw: dubcon

[kairiscorner]

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

man... he's so annoying. and yet, so fucking dreamy.

summary: you were lauded as the only serious junior in the entire spider society. you did your work and loved doing it, you made no exceptions for any rules, not even for yourself. you loved order and civility, you fought hard in your universe to earn it, and you believed you deserved it here in the spider society and tried your hardest to uphold it. but when he showed up... you were gonna have a problem.

word count: 1,222 (crazy)

a/n: might be part 1 of something, or a oneshot, who knows !

you loved being a spider person, though of course, you'd never show it. you were looked up to by anyone who was anyone, everyone wanted to be like you. you upholded the law and ideals of society as a spider person, who'd've thought for your city to be civilized, all they needed was a spider-themed hero and they'd all bow down and listen?

it was because of your amazing abilities, tireless determination to serve and protect the people of your hometown that you were sought out by the spider society and became one of theirs. and you were the damn best at it. you found a new pleasure and hobby in beating up bad guys, being spotted over roofs of abandoned buildings, being pointed and gasped at by onlooker civilians, and saving the day as a friendly neighborhood spider person.

life was great like this, it followed one, linear path that everyone else did. it was the perfect pastime, the perfect job for you. you made a few friends and got along real well with jess and peter b, you had dibs on being jess' kid's mentor when it'd be born, and mayday absolutely loved you. you were peter b's go-to for a babysitter if he had to leave for a mission or go on a date night with mj. you were a trusted kid at the spider society, the adults had never met a kid as serious, responsible, and hard-working as you.

it was pure bliss, being part of the spider society.

until he showed up.

the moment he came in, you swore you heard a loud electric guitar strum reverberate throughout the halls. you felt the vibrations of it in every bone and muscle of your body, this guy couldn't have bothered you any worse. you groaned at the noise, asking others around you who that was. they shrugged, must've been some newbie, not that you cared, you just hoped they'd keep it down.

you cared for order and civility, and you found that in the spider society. despite there being some rogue ones and rebellious folks, you found yourself getting along with most of them. but you had a feeling that this newbie who made himself known through his flashy one note show might get on your nerves a little if he keeps that behavior consistent, but you digressed.

as you went over to the lobby to see what all the fuss was about, you soon heard another ear-piercing noise. it wasn't just one note that was playing now, it was a whole metal song. to make matters worse, some drummer girl joined him in, contributing to the noise.

"who the hell?" you asked yourself as you spotted a spiked spider man masked person with a black leather vest, buttons and pins adorning the lapels of it, with dark spider-doodled pants and long black boots with mismatched laces, yellow on the right and blue on the left. his mask had what appeared to be a runny look to it, the lenses of their mask ran down a little by the ends. their entire apparel screamed anarchy and chaos. and you loathed it.

"who's ready to overthrow an oppressive regime with me? an oppresive regime of boredom in this whole building!" the newbie's voice exclaimed. it was deep, yet smooth; it had a fluidity to it, almost as if he could say anything, and one would immediately listen, no questions asked. soon, everyone around you who was watching was buzzing as the guy played a loud metal song for all to hear. many were cheering for him and encouraging him to keep playing, but you soon noticed many of these people were on patrol duty. and many of them looked like they were more invested in this nutcase's impromptu performance over work, work that saves the multiverse, you thought as you reminded yourself.

"okay, people, this is cool and all, but we have work to do." you said as you tried to get the onlookers near you to listen to you, but it was for naught. none of them heard you over the incessant cheering, howling, and music in the air. you huffed as you shook your head, put your mask on, and swung over to the makeshift stage they had that was made of wooden crates and cardboard boxes laying around.

as the guy was strumming away on his electric guitar, showing no signs of giving out, you took the mic away. "okay, this was a good show and all, but we have work to do." you announced yet again, which earned the groaning and disappointment of a lot of people.

"yeah, yeah, groan as much as you want, that won't stop mr. o'hara from freaking out at us the minute he comes back and sees this whole... gathering." you say, trying to quell the audience's thirst for more excitement.

"well, aren't you a prissy one?" asked the newbie with a hint of sarcasm in his tone. you rolled your eyes. "what you did just hindered a whole lot of people from their responsibilities here, newbie." you told him in a stern voice as you frowned at him, expecting him to be mature about this if he was recruited as a spider man.

he laughed as he thanked the drummer girl for her performance as she was packing up to leave, and turned to look back at you with a smirk from underneath his mask. "you're real cute for that, upholding orders from higher-ups you so badly want to please. that's not being a spider person, though. more like being... an obedient little dog." he teased as he bent over a little to look you in the eye.

up close, he was much, much taller than you, much bigger in nearly ever aspect. you gulped a little, but your frown and angry expression remained. "say what you want, my judgement stands. i'm also more experienced than you here, so if you want to survive, you listen to me." you whispered as he leaned in closer to you, smirk widening.

he took off the mask, and you were surprised to see just how many piercings he had, you didn't even have any piercings for earrings at the bottom of your ears, yet he had... so many. he grinned at you as he ran a hand through his thick hair in wicks. "i think i can manage on my own, little doggy." he teased as he ruffled your hair and chuckled a low chuckle.

"i mean it though, it's cute. if you wanna be more than just a little dog for the higher-ups, though... you'll know where to find me." he said with a wink as he put the mask back on and swung away.

you were left alone now, thinking about who you just met. he was, of course, rebellious and disorderly, everything you weren't aspired never to become. you knew nothing good came out of a discordant lifestyle like his, no matter how little you knew of him, you knew one thing.

"man, he's so annoying..." you complained aloud as you took the mic and hopped off the makeshift stage, ready to clean it up before the adults got back. 'and yet, so... dreamy.'

oh dear, looks like he's gonna be quite the pain in the ass for you.

lmk if i should keep this going babes, i loved this idea sm, thank you to my friend on the dc server for the idea :DD

tags !! @thecoolerdor @miguelswifey04 @pixqlsin @k4tsu3 @nokkihy @fictarian @bivivivii

#hobie brown #hobie brown x you #hobie x y/n #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown my beloved #atsv hobie #atsv x reader #atsv x y/n #atsv x you #hobie my beloved #hobie x you #hobie x reader #hobie spiderverse

[thelightsandtheroses]

sing fever to the form | frankie morales x female reader

Summary: Fake dating Frankie Morales seemed the obvious solution to both of your problems, until you caught feelings and now everything is a mess. Pairing: Frankie Morales x female reader Warnings: language and explicit content, 18+ blog - minors do not interact, a little angst with a happy ending romcom style,no physical descriptors, no use of Y/N or specific age mentions for the reader. Word Count: 6.3k Notes: the fic title is from one of my absolute favourite songs which features on every single playlist i ever compile (fever to the form by nick mulvey). I also owe a huge thank you to the lovely @mvtthewmurdvck for her support on this one 💕 i think without her, this would have probably languished in my drafts.

In the cold light of Benny Miller’s bathroom, you come to the conclusion that you’ve made several mistakes. The worst one of these, the one that set the rest in motion like dominoes, had honestly seemed like such a good idea at the time. It appeared such an obvious solution to the numerous questions, interrogations and unspoken pity that you were encountering. You could never have expected this.

You’d moved to Florida for work some time ago and while you had friends and a great career, your love life was definitely lacking. People picked up on it and while no one directly said it, you felt you were continually judged.  Sure, it was all well and good that you had a nice job, but if no one’s dating you -  well, what’s your red flag?

Between that and the fact your parents kept asking about whether or not you were dating, or if you’d met anyone nice at work, it started to weigh on you. Was there a problem with the way you were living - was it you? Your loved ones seemed so disappointed that you weren’t dating and putting yourself ‘out there in the world’. You tried to tell them the dating pool was not great, that the apps were awful and the only guys you ever seemed to attract came with so many of their own red flags that they could have lined the whole of your street. You’d dated enough bad guys already, you didn’t want to date any more.

You just needed some space.

Frankie was your friend and he was experiencing similar pressures. His friends were asking him when he’d start dating again and he was grappling with a new status as a single father. So, he also needed a break, needed to remove some of the noise from those around him.

Fake dating might belong in the movies, but it seemed an obvious solution to both of your predicaments. For a while, it was perfect. 

Frankie is the ideal fake boyfriend, he’s better than any you could have ever imagined. In fact, he is probably the best boyfriend you’ve ever had, which is part of the problem. Most of your previous boyfriends hadn’t been the best, and suddenly here’s Frankie, acting like the perfect man for you?

Of course, you ended up falling for him.

It might have seemed a good idea back then, only now you’re hiding in a bathroom, fighting back tears and berating yourself as the BBQ you’d been looking forward to carries on outside. You’re so stupid. This is a dumb game. It isn’t real.

You’re not supposed to catch feelings.

But you have.

“So, how did we get together?” Frankie asks, leaning his head back against the sofa so you can see all the freckles on his neck above his hoodie.

“Um…” you chew your lip, take a gulp of your drink, “I have no idea.”

Frankie’s house is the sort of home that has comforting chaos and mess to it. His daughter’s things are strewn around the living room, an aviation manual rests on open pages on the coffee table next to you and a pile of battered paperbacks are stacked next to the sofa. The walls are a warm yellow; surprisingly comforting and bright. It’s a stark contrast to how Frankie presents himself outside of his home - cool, collected, a little quiet.

His home feels lived in. You always feel comfortable here.

“We could say that we just realised one day, hanging out, I mean crazier things have happened. A big story would stand out. KISS principles an’ all.”

“What did you just say?’” you ask. “Did you just say kissing principles?”

“Kiss?” He shakes his head. “Keep it simple, stupid! The way I see it, the only way for us to get away with this is to keep it realistic, boring almost so people don’t ask more,” Frankie says thoughtfully. 

“Ah, so hooking up with you would be boring? That’s good to know.”

“Oh, carinô, if I kissed you for real that is not the word you’d use …”Frankie trails off, mischievously raises an eyebrow.

“Ergh, you can be so arrogant,” you tease, “Okay, fine. We had a sudden movie like realisation and what - we just got together and then what did we do?”

“Well then, y’know, by that point, you couldn’t exactly walk away.” Frankie smirks salaciously.

You throw a sofa cushion at him.“I think I hate you, Frankie Morales..”

“No, no that’s definitely not what you said.” 

“So,” Frankie pauses, runs a hand through his hair. “We should agree what the boundaries are, when we’re with others.”

“Others?”

“Yes, when we’re with our friends. It needs to be believable, right? And I’m sorry, but if we stay like we are now, around my friends, then they’ll know it’s fake in five minutes.”

“Why?”

“I did an online quiz with my ex and um, physical touch is my love language,” Frankie says sheepishly. 

“You do know that whole love language thing is bullshit, right?”

“No, it’s not. Jessie said -”

“She’s wrong.”

“Regardless, the quiz said that - ergh, fine, whatever. So, what’s the plan there? I don’t want either us to feel uncomfortable though, okay.”

“We’ve been friends a long time,” you say lightly, “This won’t change that. We can figure this out.” It’s not like you’ve never hugged Frankie or he hasn’t put an arm around you before. How hard can it be - you need people to believe you?

“Also, I am not lying to my kid, or getting her to lie for me. We need to keep her out of it, tell everyone else we’re taking it slow with her until we know it’s serious, okay?” Frankie looks at you with a suddenly serious expression. Oh god, he’s a dad and this is stupid and complicated and you can’t involve her in this and you’ve just been discussing the physical boundaries in this stupid game and this is ridiculous. 

It was a pathetic idea of yours.

“Maybe we shouldn’t -”

“It’s fine. We just keep her out of this.”

“Okay, that sounds sensible.”

“So we’re really doing this then?” he asks with a shy smile.

“Yeah, I think we are.”

It’s Frankie. What other choice was there when it came down to it? It’s Frankie with his deep brown eyes that have mastered the puppy dog expression and his shy smiles. You care about him and all of his insecurities, doubts and vulnerabilities you’ve learned over the years. They make him tangible, real, and truer. Perhaps you always liked him and you didn’t know. Maybe you did and subconsciously thought this was the only way you’d have him which is why you’d pursued such a ridiculous idea. Perhaps you had thought this would be like the movies, that he’d confess his love for you and you’d drive off into the sunset.

You’re now accustomed to the way his hands skim your back or waist when you’re with friends, the way he leans closer to you and you can feel his breath against your ear when he whispers sweet nothings in his low voice, smell the laundry detergent on his clothes.

He’s so convincing.

No one has ever questioned whether it’s real with the two of you. You don’t think it would ever cross their mind that the two of you are fake dating. 

Your body and mind certainly doesn’t think it’s fake anymore.

You sit on the edge of the bath and try and try and pinpoint when you realised you felt this way. You’ve both been flirting with danger for weeks; the way you’ve let him trace shapes on your side when he pulls you close, how you lean into the crook of his neck, play with the ends of his curls when you’re out with friends. You tell yourself it’s just to make it look real, to make this situation look authentic.

You’ve certainly fooled yourself.

You’re not even sure when you realised this. One moment everything was like normal and then it wasn’t. Perhaps it’s your fault, you have always been a dreamer. You’ve always walked through life fantasising that this will be the moment when everything changes, when you suddenly fit in and someone will like you or fall in love with you. Given the way your mind works, it was inevitably a stupid idea to even try this with Frankie.

It’s been overwhelming at the BBQ today; the gentle touches, the way he looks at you and you almost believe it’s genuine.  It wouldn’t normally bother you so much, but now you’re aching for it to be something it can’t be and it’s all too much.

You couldn’t help looking at Frankie throughout the BBQ; wanting to count the freckles on his neck, to run your hands through the curls hidden by his hat as you notice the ends peeking out at the nape of his neck. You’re always taken with the broadness of his shoulders too, his hands. 

You’re completely doomed. 

You can’t do this anymore. It’s not fair, it’s a betrayal of your friendship with him. It’s a betrayal of his trust because agreeing to do this fake dating was an exercise in trust, one you are failing.

You’ve been thinking about it for days. The reason you feel so safe with Frankie is because it’s not real, because you weren’t supposed to have to give your heart away. It was just meant to distract people so you could breathe again. You’ve seen too many romcoms and movies, you’re too much of a dreamer to have ever let this work without getting messy. You thought you could be detached and objective, but you can’t.

It’s you, you’re the one who has screwed up.

So you go downstairs, make your excuses and leave.

You’ve been fake dating for two weeks and this just might be your best relationship ever.  You can’t decide if that’s sweet or perhaps the most depressing thing you’ve ever admitted.

You’re in Frankie’s car on the way to Tom’s birthday, playing with the handle of the gift bag you’re holding. The sun is out, Frankie’s playlist is setting the scene and you feel so happy in this moment.

“Don’t be surprised if they say something about us,” Frankie says casually as he changes gear, “The guys have been giving me grief since I told them about us. Well, since I told them about what we’re saying about us, anyway.”

“I thought the idea was it would stop them giving you grief?”

“Oh, this is much better than it was, trust me,” he says, laughing as he looks at the road ahead. With his sunglasses on, no hat and a loose t-shirt he looks more relaxed than you’ve ever seen him. Frankie strikes you as a tightly wound coil, he’s just got that energy. He’s calm, not something or someone you are afraid of, but you recognise the way he thinks, see the nervous anticipation in his eyes before he smiles at one of his friends on a night out.

You see the same thing in yourself.

“You know, I can’t believe this is working,” you say cheerfully to Frankie, “My mom has even stopped sending me those news articles about people who meet their soulmates later in your life.”

“Your mom was sending you those?” Frankie asks, raising an eyebrow. 

“She means well,” you say placidly. “My parents have always had a lot of expectations for me.”

“Shit.” He reaches over and squeezes your hand. “Well, I can promise you that you’re the best fake girlfriend I’ve ever had.”

“Likewise, Frankie, likewise.”

You don’t mean to ghost Frankie after the BBQ. It’s just you’re not sure what to say to him. I’m sorry, but I think this fake dating is getting a little too authentic because I might be falling for you?

You can’t do that to him, can’t embarrass yourself with your stupid crush either. It’s better to just ignore the messages, pretend it’s not happening and bury your head in the sand.

Of course, Frankie knows where you live, so you shouldn’t be as surprised as you are when he turns up at your home.

“So what’s going on? I texted you,” he says with a forced casual voice as he leans against your kitchen counter. He’s wearing a loose t-shirt and jeans, his usual hat discarded next to him. He runs a hand through his hair and looks over at you.

You don’t want to look at him properly, so you focus your attention on your kitchen tiles instead . You really need to mop the kitchen floor later. 

“I think, I think this thing has run its course.”

“Oh, really?” Frankie looks surprised, almost sad, when you dare to look at him, “I thought this was working well for us both.”

“A little too well,” you mumble under your breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

You sigh.

“Hey, cariño, talk to me.”

“It’s just us, Frankie, you don’t have to call me that right now.”

“Why, do you not like it?”

You exhale again with exasperation and shake your head. Just make this easier on me, you think, stop muddying the water. When you meet Frankie’s eyes he looks perplexed though, concerned and his brow is furrowed.

“What’s going on?” he asks, arms folded as he looks over at you. “Talk to me.”

“I think we should stop with this fake dating arrangement. I mean, the idea was just to do it until my friends and my parents were off my back and until your friends were off yours, and they are. So, let’s call it a win and move on.”

“Did something happen?” Frankie asks. “You meet someone?” There’s a strange tone to his voice, almost wistful.

“No, no. I just - I don’t think we should keep doing this. I mean that girl asked you out last week at the bar and because Will and I were with you, you said no.” 

“She wasn’t my type anyway and that’s what this is about? Come on!”

“I’m - I’m clearly holding you back and that’s not what this was supposed to be.”

“Is this what you really want?”

“Absolutely,” you lie brightly, smiling as widely as you can. “We’re friends and we’ve helped each other out so let’s bow out of this gracefully. We can say to the others - we can tell them we realised that we’re better off as friends.”

“Right. Okay.”

“Okay?” you repeat, disappointed that he’s just giving up, that this really is it. 

A small part of you was holding out hope for Frankie fighting back, for him to declare his love for you, take you into his arms and then for the two of you to have the most passionate, intense sex of your life right there in the kitchen. That’s what happens in the movies and books. It’s all meant to end with a kiss.

Only he doesn’t do that.

He just quietly acquiesces to your demand that this ends now and when he smiles, as though his acceptance will make you happy, he shatters your heart into a million pieces.

You have no idea how your friendship will recover from this. You have no idea how to watch someone else love Frankie in the future, to watch him put his hands on someone else or look at them like he looked at you and know it’s real for them but wasn’t for you.

“I should probably go,” Frankie says, his gaze fixated on the floor.

“Oh, right. Well, I’ll see you around.”

The story of your breakup spreads quickly. Your friends are disappointed, they tell you it’s obvious you both liked each other, they ask if you’re sure you can’t work it out? Your parents are clearly disappointed, but at the same time you catch a glance of relief on your mother’s face when you tell her.

“He’s complicated,” she says, taking a sip from her cup of tea.  It’s your mom’s first visit in months, a visit you had originally planned during the fake dating misadventure.  

“Complicated?”

“He’s a single father and the job he has? Being a pilot isn’t like a regular 9-5.” 

“He makes his hours work for his kid, and none of those things were the reason we broke up”you say defensively. “And at my age, most people have previous relationships and baggage so I don’t think that makes him any more complicated than anyone else I could meet.”

“You don’t, darling, you don’t have any baggage.”

“That in itself is clearly a complication,” you say, rolling your eyes like a petulant teenager. “I mean, you and Dad hated it when I was single. You were always asking if I’d met someone, or if I was looking and -“ you trail off and stare at your hands on the table. Your nail varnish is chipped. Rouge Noir, the classic vampy red you always put on when you’re feeling blue, when you need a confidence boost. It’s not working for you right now though.

“We just want you to be happy,” your mom says, gently taking her hands in yours. “Whatever that looks like.”

“I am happy.” It’s meant to sound assertive but it comes out more like a question as you speak. You’re happy, dammit. Or you were before everything went wrong.

“No, honey, you’re in the middle of a break up and it’s obvious you still feel something for him. Are you sure - are you sure it’s over? You told me you were the one who ended things.”

“Yeah, I did. I don’t think - I don’t think it’s a good idea, mom. I’ll get over it. I have this big work project and then that trip and the apartment move soon, so I’ll be fine.”

You’re not sure of anything now. You thought stopping the arrangement with Frankie would save your friendship, but it didn’t. Now you don’t have him at all and it fucking hurts.

You are so angry and sad and confused. This is all your fault for getting feelings that you’d laughed at the possibility of months ago. You’ve lost him anyway and it’s caused a great  chasm in your heart.

 How can you be mourning something that wasn’t even real in the first place?

When you became friends with Frankie, he introduced you to some of his friends from his military days. While you didn’t exactly get on with all of them, Tom is aloof at best, Benny and you had become friends over time. In the wake of your fictionalised break-up, you’ve lost those people too. You’ve avoided Benny’s fights, wanted Frankie to have his friends without the bother of you. Besides, you’ve been focused on work. You had a trip away for a few days and then you had a big project, presentations. Work has been something to throw yourself into.

It’s a good plan, but Benny keeps texting you and personally invites you to his next fight.

You and Frankie have both said you’re still friends so what’s the problem?

I don’t know if it’s a good idea.

Just come to the damn fight, would you? Liv keeps asking after you.

You decide you should go at least once to show your face. You can do this, you can handle one night. You like Liv, Benny’s girlfriend, and you can say hello and then vanish quickly after the fight ends. If you’re careful with the seating set up, you might not even see Frankie or have to talk to him at all.

The bar is crowded and while Will, Santiago, Tom and Frankie all greeted you when you arrive, it feels different. Stilted somehow.

 It’s almost how it would feel if this was a genuine break up, if this was real. You suppose it is to Santiago, Tom and Will.

You sat with Benny’s girlfriend, Liv, for the fight. She squeezed your hand sympathetically when she catches you looking over at Frankie.

Frankie still looks the same as ever, you think as you cast your eyes over to where he is in the crowd. He’s wearing his usual hat, the one you’ve teased him about for years but can’t picture him ever giving up, with well fitting jeans and a jacket. He looks infuriatingly good.

Before the fight Frankie had moved so he was next to you and he looked like he wanted to say something to you before the fight began. Panicked, you quickly moved next to Liv instead and so you were sitting on the other side of the group to him as you took your seats.

Crisis averted, you thought. Only now, you can’t stop wondering what he might have said to you.

“I can’t see why you can’t get it together,” Benny says, taking a sip from his bottle of beer. The two of you are standing together by the bar, waiting for the rest of the group’s drinks. Benny’s mostly fixed up from his fight, with just a small red stain on his forehead between the steri-strips and bruises. You think the other guy must look a lot worse. 

“Wait, what did you say?” you ask.

“I don’t see why you and Frankie can’t work it out. I mean, look at him,” Benny points his bottle towards your friends, to where your attention had just been. Frankie’s standing on the edge of the group, arms folded, hat rigid. He looks uncomfortable.

You shouldn’t have come here tonight.

“We tried and it wasn’t a good fit. It wasn’t going to work out,,” you say flatly, repeating the line you and Frankie had agreed on.

“Look, you might have fooled the others, but you can’t fool me.”

Your stomach sinks. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I know you guys were fake dating at first.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You could barely keep your stories straight about how you got together when I asked,” Benny says softly. “You kept adding details and I noticed Frankie shake his head whenever you did that.”

“Why didn’t you say anything? Does Frankie know?” You’re mortified for him, you know how embarrassed he would feel if he found out that Benny had guessed all along it was fake.

This really can’t get any worse.

“‘Cause you two obviously liked each other. I assumed that you’d figure it out along the way. I thought you had, but then -” Benny trails off.

“You know when you assume, you make an ass -”

‘Oh sweetheart, don’t even finish that sentence.“ Benny exhales. “How are you holding up?”

“It’s what you said, it was fake and we ended it and it’s all fine now.”

“Bullshit,” Benny exclaims, his southern drawl even more pronounced.

“It’s not.”

“It is.”

The bartender interrupts by finally handing you the rest of your drinks and between you and Benny, you take them and rejoin your friends.

‘Cause you two obviously liked each other.

Benny’s words echo in your mind. He didn’t say because you liked Frankie, but because you both did.

Frankie doesn’t like you like that though, you know this. He’s clearly just a very good actor.

You end up the one handing Frankie his drink, no doubt due to Benny’s meddling. Your hands brush against his as he takes the bottle and you can’t help looking up at him, noticing the unreadable expression on his face.

Will coughs loudly and you quickly take a step back.

“It was a good fight, Benny,” you say awkwardly, hoping he’ll take the change of subject.

“I need a smoke,” Frankie says, hunching his shoulders as he walks away from the group.

The room instantly turns cold. 

You awkwardly pull the edge of your jacket down, wishing the ground would swallow you up. Santi, Tom and Will are staring at you and you can’t be here. They hate you, they’re judging you.

This is so fucked up.

“I’m uh, going to go.”

Liv makes a motion as if to stop you, but she doesn’t, and Benny’s looking at you with real disappointment but that doesn’t stop you either. You’re getting good at running away now.

You’re too afraid to look behind you and see whether they’re looking at you as you walk away.

Frankie’s standing by the parking lot when you finally weave your way past the crowds and bloody fighters to reach the exit.

He looks surprised to see you. Just seeing his face makes your heart ache because you’ve lost him, you’ve lost him and you didn’t want to.

“I’m leaving now, so you can go back in” you say flatly.

“I was just having a smoke,” he says defensively. It’s an obvious lie, you both know it.

“Sure, Frankie. Look, you can’t just stomp off like that. You can’t leave me in that position with everyone. It’s not fair.”

“Yeah, well, there’s a lot of things we don’t discuss, lot of things that aren’t fair,” Frankie says bitterly, tossing his cigarette to the floor and stamping on it a little too vigorously.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What’s going on with you? This wasn’t meant to affect our friendship. I never, ever would have agreed if I’d known,” Frankie says firmly. “You were my friend and I still wanted you to be but you ghosted me and ended our deal. That’s fine, but we didn’t go back to normal after. We just - it’s like you hate me now.”

“I don’t hate you.”

“Just would you tell me what I did wrong?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then why -”

“It was too real,” you whisper, folding your arms around yourself and leaning against the brick wall.

“What? What did you say?” Frankie asks, moving closer.

“You know, the faking it thing. It was too real, it was confusing me. And I - I didn’t want to ruin everything but I still ruined it all. Story of my life.”

“Don’t say that. Don’t be so hard on yourself.” You think, somehow he’s going to break your heart even more tonight and you didn’t think that was possible..

“I just - I got confused.”

“How did you get confused?” he asks in a low voice, taking another step closer to you.

“Don’t, Frankie, don’t make me say it.”

“Say what?” he asks, dramatically throwing his hands in the air, “I can’t understand you. I mean, this was your idea and then you ended it and now you don’t even want to be friends? I don’t know what I did but -”

“You did nothing, Frankie. It’s me, not you.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Clearly something happened. Can’t you just talk to me? I’m fucking miserable here. You were supposed to be my friend and I miss you.” You hadn’t thought that your actions could have hurt Frankie, you thought you were protecting him by doing what you did.

You feel even worse, a sick feeling rising in your stomach. 

“It got muddled in my head, okay, it felt like it was real and I couldn’t do that to you, so that’s why - that’s why.” You falter at the end of your sentence as all of the adrenaline and energy from your body fades away..

“It got too real for you? What are you saying?”

“That I like you. That I ended up liking you more than I should, you obtuse jerk!”

Frankie pauses then takes another step closer. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, a slight smile on his face that you can’t make any sense of.

“It’s embarrassing, Frankie. We made an arrangement and I caught feelings like an idiotic teenager. I’m just daydreaming my life away again.”

Frankie is so close to you right now, he braces his hands against the wall as he stands right in front of you.

“You caught feelings, huh?”

You notice a familiar smirk on his face and then he’s kissing you.

Frankie’s kissed you before; it’s been part of the facade after all, but not like this.

This kiss is everything. It sends molten heat down your core, renders your mind completely blank. All the anxiety, all the internal dialogue is gone for once. The silence is blissful as you can feel your heart pounding, take in the soft texture of Frankie’s shirt as you fist it to pull him closer because now he’s with you like this, you can’t let him go.

It’s not an aggressive kiss, it’s not teeth clashing or fury. It’s not exactly gentle either.  Frankie kisses you with care; like he’s trying to take you apart right here and now with just a kiss.

In just one minute, he’s ruined you for other people. No one else could kiss you like Frankie does.

“I told you, if I kissed you for real it wouldn’t be boring,” Frankie mumbles, moving his attention down your jaw and neck to your collarbone. You can feel the velvet softness of his lips, the heat of his breath.

“Oh fuck you,” you joke.

”Well, baby, I think I’m trying. Not here though, we can do better than that.”

You both laugh. The tension breaks for just a second as you wrap your arms around his shoulders, laugh into his neck, breathe him in.

“C’mon, you had to know I liked you. I just, I  just thought you deserved someone better than me -” Frankie starts.

“That’s bullshit,” you argue. Frankie is kind, thoughtful and funny. He’s also so competent, multi-skilled and as you’ve just learned, an excellent kisser. Frankie has that quiet and collected energy you’ve noticed in a lot of ex-military people too. He flies planes and helicopters for a living. He’s your friend. How could you deserve any better than him?

“Can we get out of here?” Frankie asks, “Talk, not talk, I don’t mind. I just - I want to be with you right now. God, I missed you.”

“Okay. I really fucking missed you too,” you say, kissing his shoulder lightly before leaning back against the wall.

He doesn’t stop touching you the whole way to your apartment. He’s either holding your hand or touching your leg. If he has to temporarily remove himself to make a turn or change gear, he’s immediately back with you as soon as possible. You wonder if he’s worried you’ll leave or vanish if he’s not actually touching you, if he’s also wondering if this is really happening..

His car stereo blares uncharacteristically cheerful music by the latest pop sensation and you raise your eyebrows when he looks over at you.

“It’s her favourite album by her favourite singer and school’s been rough for her the last few weeks so this cheers her up,” he says defensively, flexing his fingers on the steering wheel, “I think I can probably hear it even when it’s not playing now.”

“Sure, but your daughter’s not in the car with us. Is she, Frankie? You could have switched it over.”

“I keep forgetting to change the CD,” he whines unconvincingly. “This car’s old.”

You make your way to your apartment, his arm around you, fingers entwined with yours the whole time.

As soon as you close the front door, he’s pushing your back against the wall, cupping his hands around your face to kiss you deeply.

You move your hands up to meet his and then move one of your hands down his chest.

“Your heart’s racing like crazy,” you mumble as he kisses a particular spot on your neck.

There’s always a moment of fear at a junction like this. What if the sex is bad - what if you’re just not compatible this way? But you need him, you need him with you, in you and the two of you are both too far gone to focus on that now.

Your friendship is changed anyway. There’s nothing more to lose.

He places his hands on your hips, pulls you away towards your bedroom.

“I want you so much,” he says.

“I want you too,” you reply, dazed between kisses as he navigates you to the edge of your bed.

He ghosts his hands down to the edge of your top and you move to desperately pull it off you.

You watch him take in the sight of you in your bra, take in the smile on his face. He looks at you with something like reverence; as if he can’t quite take it in that you’re real and you’re with him. Part of you wants to glow under his gaze and the rest of you fights panic, because this feels different, it feels real. You’ve never been looked at like this before.

You’ll do anything to keep this moment.

He gently unhooks your bra, moves his kisses down from your lips to your neck to your collarbone to the curve of your breasts and then down again.

His hands fumble with the button of your jeans and you’re desperate for him.

“What do you want, baby?”

You, you think, I just want you.

”C’mon, tell me,” he coaxes.

“I just need you. I want you to - ”

“I’ve got you,” he says, calmly lifting your hips to remove your jeans, to touch the hem of your underwear - and could you have not put better underwear on this morning?

You open your mouth to say something but then he comes back to meet your lips as he moves his hand inside your underwear. You’re already slick with wanting him, he slides a finger inside before tracing circles over your bundle of nerves to make you gasp.

 “You’re so fucking pretty,” he whispers as he continues taking you apart.

“Frankie -”

“I’ve liked you for so long, I just thought you didn’t want me that way. I’d take anything you give me - friendship, I mean fake dating. I thought it was as close as I’d get.”

“Frankie, how could I not want you that way? You’re - you’re Frankie.”

“Exactly.”

“I’m going to show you.”

You feel your orgasm building and clasp your hands over his shoulders, into his hair. You shut your eyes and then it’s gone.

“Frankie?”

You open your eyes to see him take his finger into his mouth then mischievously smiles as he moves back and off the bed. He moves you so your legs are over the edge of the bed and then. He gets on his knees.

You take a deep breath He kisses the inside of your knee, traces kiss up your thigh until he meets you. You sit up slightly on your elbows as he looks up to meet your gaze with a dazed smile before he turns his attention to you.

Frankie Morales knows exactly what he’s doing between your legs but in case, you tell him how good he is anyway. He takes you apart with expert precision, gets you back to the precipice of pleasure all too quickly and guides you over the line.

“Do you want to -” he asks breathlessly as he comes back to you afterwards and kisses you. You can taste yourself on his lips, can feel his hardness pressing into you.

“Yeah, I do. I have uh - condoms in the bathroom cabinet.”

“Give me a second.” He kisses you briefly and you shut your eyes again as he goes to the bathroom. You try and catch your breath back and get your legs to stop trembling.

Why are the condoms so fucking far away? You still desperately need him, still need to feel him.

When Frankie comes back, he kisses you hungrily before he slides the condom over his length.

“Fuck, to think we could have been doing this the whole time,” he says before he’s sliding inside you.

There’s nothing else at this moment. It’s just you and him and the way you dig your fingers into his back with your free hand and the way your other hands is entwined in his as he moves inside you, the two of you desperately exchanging  sweet nothings to each other, groaning each other’s names.

Your heart is racing and the blood is pumping in your ears. You watch the expression on his face just before he buries his face in your neck, sure he can feel the way you’re tightening around him, can surely feel how close you are too and then just as he takes you to that place one more time, you hear the way he moans as he joins you.

The next morning you watch Frankie pacing your balcony as speaks on the phone to his daughter. His hair is still damp from the shower, curling at the ends, and he has a mug of coffee in his other hand. He turns and smiles at you.

Just twenty four hours ago, you never thought Frankie could feel that way about you. You were resigned to your mistakes and your losses.

You were wrong.

He hangs up the phone and you walk over to join him on the balcony, your mug of coffee tightly clasped between your hands.

“Hi.”

“Hey,” he says, putting his phone in his pocket and wrapping his now free arm around you as he takes a gulp of coffee.

You take a sip of your own coffee.

“I was just thinking,” Frankie says, “so, I guess the story we came up with before was true, right? We just realised how we felt about each other one day - and okay, it might have taken some fake dating to get us both there - but no one else needs to know that.”

“No one else needs to know that.”

You definitely need to tell Frankie at some point that Benny has figured everything out, that Benny clearly pushed you two together last night. You probably owe him a thank you, but you’ll never tell Benny that.

“So, what do we do now?” There’s a lot you need to discuss, figure out, but you just want to be with him. Surely that’s enough for now.

Frankie grins. “Well, I don’t need to be home until the afternoon so I’ve got some time right now.”

“I’m sure we can think of some things to fill that time.”

Frankie laughs. “Definitely.”

Tag List

All Pedro characters: @harriedandharassed @pedrostories @hiroikegawa @pedrosaidsheispunk

#frankie morales x female reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales #triple frontier #frankie morales fanfiction #triple frontier fanfiction

[avatar-anna]

Love Games

summary: in which harry and y/n navigate having a secret relationship

young dad!harry, part of this / this universe

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Never have I ever had a song written about me.”

“Never have I ever made out with someone twice my age.”

“Never have I ever hooked up with a fan.”

With each prompt given, Harry was forced to give the answer that would best fit his image. Everyone laughed or cheered when he revealed that he had in fact done those things, which made the lunch Y/n had an hour earlier curdle in her stomach.

She knew it was all lies, that he’d never done any of those things—unless she counted as a fan—and that this was all part of his carefully curated popstar persona. The real truth was PR stunts and fake dates that made Harry seem a certain type of way to the general public. The truth was that Harry was that Harry wasn’t the womanizer everyone thought he was. The truth was he was the father of a two year old who he helped potty train and taught new words and sang lullabies to. Harry Styles wasn’t who he was portrayed to be, Y/n knew that, but something she couldn’t put a name to irritated her about the game, the questions, and Harry’s answers.

Because another truth was that Harry spent a lot of time on the road. He was handsome, talented, rich, and popular. And Y/n knew that even if those who wanted him knew about her and the daughter she and Harry had, they would still throw themselves at him. Who was to say that after an argument over the phone or if he was just feeling particularly lonely that he didn’t seek the comfort of someone else while she was home with Simone?

It was a terrible thing to think, but rumors about Harry being in a relationship with a model were running rampant the last few days. Rumors about Harry dating someone were always running rampant. Y/n normally didn’t give tabloids and gossip sites much thought, but for some reason it was all getting to her.

“Mumma? Hold you?”

Looking away from the hotel TV—because you couldn’t actually go to the live taping without raising suspicion—she mustered a smile for Simone. “Of course, love bug.”

Y/n swept Simone up into her arms and sat her on her lap. The two year old watched the screen, eyes never leaving it until the commercial break. She clapped and smiled and pointed, reaching her little arms out as if Harry could push through the screen and grab her.

“See Daddy now?” Simone asked, confused as to why she couldn’t see him anymore.

“Soon, baby,” Y/n responded.

And almost like he could sense them talking about him, Y/n’s phone pinged with a new message.

him <3: be back in twenty minutes!

Y/n knew it wasn’t his fault, and she knew that none of what he admitted to was true, but she couldn’t shake her doubts like she normally could. So she gave him a simple “ok” and turned her phone over. She looked down at Simone, who she could always rely on to cheer her up.

Her daughter’s face was the perfect mix of her and Harry. She had Y/n’s nose and Harry’s wide green eyes, her pouty lips and his deep dimples. She was too cute not to smile at, Y/n often found. Harry traveled the world, but hers was right here in her arms.

“How about some room service? You want chicken nuggets, bug?”

Simone nodded enthusiastically, and Y/n put the order in soon after.

When Harry came back to the hotel room, his bandmates followed, bringing all their usual noise and chaos. Some days Y/n would kick them out because she was trying to put Simone down for a nap, but the little one was still happily munching on cut up pieces of chicken, so she didn’t mind as much.

“Little Styles!”

Harry, Louis, Liam, and Niall all came into the room, crowding around Simone’s high chair. Simone smiled up at the boys, but it was her dad she reached for. He quickly took her out of the high chair so he could pick her up so the boys could play with her, and Y/n saw that as an opportunity to step away. She wasn’t sure if Harry knew she was upset, but she didn’t know if she could fake being fine either way. So while everyone fawned over Simone, Y/n slipped into the bathroom.

Her and Simone’s hotel room was standard—two full beds next to each other, one bath, a TV mounted on the wall, a small desk. Harry had a suite a few floors above them to not raise any questions as to why he would need a high chair or anything remotely baby related sent up to his room. As far as the hotel was concerned, Y/n and Simone were guests completely separate from Harry Styles and the rest of One Direction.

That notion squeezed Y/n’s heart uncomfortably too. She didn’t need to be in a suite or anything fancy like that, but she hated the way Harry’s management treated her and Simone. They couldn’t go to his shows, or they could, but Y/n couldn’t hold Simone so as not to raise suspicion about a young mother backstage at a One Direction concert. Any time spent together as a family was inside a hotel room—hers, never his. And absolutely no dates or staying the night.

Things hadn’t always been like this, but Harry explained that after Zayn left, the leash had been tightened on all the boys. There would be no room for error on anyone’s part, especially nothing as big as a baby scandal.

Y/n never said it to Harry, but sometimes she was selfishly grateful for the hiatus One Direction were taking soon. She didn’t want to announce to the world that she was Harry’s long-time girlfriend and mother of his two year old daughter, but she just didn’t want to feel suffocated like this anymore, or feel like there were people on Harry’s team who despised her and Simone for just existing.

Tears were on Y/n’s cheeks before she even realized it, the pinch of cold on the tracks they left behind being the only indication. She hastily wiped them away, knowing Harry or one of the boys would eventually notice her absence and come looking for her. Once she felt like she’d composed herself, she unlocked the bathroom door and stepped out. Liam, Louis and Niall were on their way to the door when she shuffled out of the bathroom, all of them awarding her with big hugs and warm smiles.

“You okay?” Louis asked quietly so no one but Y/n could hear him.

She nodded wordlessly, but he gave her a comforting squeeze on the shoulder and a tender smile before leaving the room with the other two boys. Of all the boys—besides Harry, of course—she’d become the closest to Louis.

The door clicked shut, and there was silence. Walking down the short hall, she reached the main space of the hotel room to find Simone back in her high chair and Harry feeding her. Y/n’s body filled with warmth at the sight, making her almost forget about all the things she’d felt the last couple hours.

She hadn’t made much noise, but Harry looked over to where she was standing. “Hey. Everything alright?”

“No, not really, but I don’t want to talk about it in front of her,” Y/n said with a smile.

“Do you want me to ask one of the boys to watch her while we talk in my room?”

She couldn’t keep the bite out of her voice as she replied, “I didn’t realize I was allowed to be in your room.”

Harry sighed and rubbed a tired hand over his face. He’d grown up so much since Y/n first met him, and yet he still looked so young. If she didn’t know him, she would never guess he was a dad, and she suspected Harry would say the same.

She wondered what life would’ve been like for the both of them if they’d never met, if they hadn’t been so careless one night. This life was difficult at times, and frustrating at others, but Y/n would put up with all of this again if it meant having Simone, but she did wonder.

“Of course you are,” Harry said, but he didn’t sound sure. Because the truth was he didn’t actually know if Y/n was allowed to be in his suite. Sometimes she thought Harry’s management worried that leaving the two of them alone for too long would result in another pregnancy, but no one ever said that was the reason, of course. “Y/n, can we please talk—”

“I—I think I just need some air. Can you watch her for a little?” she ended up saying.

Y/n could tell that Harry wanted to talk about whatever it was that was bothering her, but he didn’t try to stop her. “Yeah. Go ahead.”

“Text me if you need anything,” was all she said before she left.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Harry knew he was in hot water, he just couldn’t pinpoint what it was.

The comment about being allowed into his hotel suite gave him a pretty good idea, but it seemed like it was more than that. He knew that Y/n put up with a lot, that being holed up with a two year old like this all the time wasn’t easy, but usually they were able to talk through their issues and come to a resolution together. But Y/n seemed so distant before she left. It made Harry incredibly nervous.

He loved Y/n with every fiber of his being. She was his best friend and greatest confidant, she supported him and cheered him on as he achieved so much, and was there for him whenever it all became too much. She was the first person he told about Zayn leaving, had listened to him rant and complain and try to make sense of one of his closest friends keeping such deep struggles a secret. She was everything to him, he just hoped she knew that.

“More please.”

Harry’s thundercloud of thoughts cleared for Simone, his mouth immediately forming a smile. “More?” he asked, pretending to be astounded. “You want more?”

Simone nodded, the curls on her forehead bouncing with the movement. Harry was going to cut up another piece of chicken for her anyway, but that smile would’ve sealed the deal.

When she was done eating, Harry took her out of the high chair and set her on the floor to play with some of her toys. He kept a watchful eye, knowing there was plenty of things in the hotel room a toddler could get into but shouldn’t. But she just sat on the floor and played with her plastic magnets, stacking them together and making new shapes. Harry sat with her, marveling at her creations when she showed them off and helping her build a tower just to knock them down.

Y/n found them sitting together when she came back to the room, feeling a little better than she had when she left. Harry didn’t say anything as she sat down next to him, though a wave of relief washed over him when she rested her head on his shoulder.

“Sometimes I just wish it was all over now and we didn’t have to deal with all of this, you know?” she breathed, watching Simone play with her toys.

“I’m sorry,” he said, knowing there wasn’t much else he could say. A lot of her stress was because of him.

Despite her best efforts, she sniffled. “I just hate the constant rumors and people thinking you’re available to be hit on or flirted with. And I know you would never cheat on me. I know that, but sometimes when it’s constantly in my face I can’t help but…” Y/n didn’t finish that thought, they both knew what she wasn’t saying. “And when it’s all over, I don’t even get the comfort of you holding me at night because—because—”

Harry did his best to hold her despite the angle they were sitting at. At first he was hurt at the implication that she thought he would ever cheat on her, but he wasn’t quite sure how he would handle everything if the roles were reversed. The fact that she was still here, still talking to him, meant more than words could describe.

“I—I’m yours, Y/n,” he said softly, but not without conviction. “Nothing matters to me more than what’s in this room. You and Simone have my heart.”

“I know,” she said, like she actually believed it. “It just feels like the world is against us sometimes.”

Harry knew “the world” was a stand-in for his management. They made their lives exponentially more difficult emotionally, but there wasn’t much he could do. Even during the hiatus, Harry would still be contracted with them, forced to play by their rules and hide Y/n and Simone away like they were something to be ashamed of.

“I’m gonna stay here tonight,” Harry finally said.

“Are you sure?” Y/n asked, knowing he’d get in a lot of trouble for risking exposure. Even if all management had to do was make people sign an NDA, they never wanted to take that chance. Y/n often supposed that their vigilance was something to appreciate, but she also thought their methods could be harsh.

“Yeah. I’ve missed having you in my arms too.”

She took her head off his shoulders then, their faces close enough that their noses were touching. Y/n nudged his with hers until he leaned in for a kiss. It was soft, nothing too intense while their two year old was playing right in front of them.

Later that night when Simone was fast asleep, Harry and Y/n stayed up, talking about everything and nothing. They both missed the intimacy of late night chats in bed, and though Harry had to be up early tomorrow morning, he made no attempts to go to sleep.

“Let’s go somewhere,” he whispered, thumbs caressing her bare shoulder.

He was talking like he could do whatever he wanted and go anywhere he wanted at the drop of a hat, but Y/n didn’t pop the bubble. She didn’t want to.

“Where?”

“I don’t know. Somewhere no one will find us. Somewhere no one knows who I am.”

“Might be a hard place to find,” she mused, playing with the rings on his finger.

She admired each one on his hand, pausing at the one on his ring finger. Her own was bare, there was no way they would ever be allowed to get engaged. But it was something she thought about amidst her busy life as a mom. Y/n often went back and forth between letting the world know that Harry was hers and hers only, as he’d promised, and keeping their love to themselves. Today was a shout it from the rooftops kind of day.

“I want it too,” Harry said, his eyes having tracked her gaze to where her bare finger lay tangled with his. They were young, sure, but they’d been through a lot together the last few years. He wanted her as badly as the day they first met, and if that wasn’t a sign that he was meant to be with her forever, he didn’t know what was.

Y/n turned so that she was facing him. Her eyes were heavy like they were fighting off sleep, but she kept them open. His long hair was splayed across the pillow, tangled from where her hands had rucked it up earlier. Harry, for whatever reason, had decided he wanted to grow it out. Y/n didn’t mind, though, she thought it made him even more irresistible. And the way Simone held a strand of it in her little fist whenever he held her was absolutely adorable.

“Want what?” she asked, even though she knew.

Harry leaned forward. Their lips touched, but he wouldn’t kiss her. Instead he mumbled, “To make you my wife. To let anyone who’s ever looked twice know that you have a husband.”

His words made her shiver. Harry’s jealousy didn’t show itself very often because they couldn’t be seen in public together. But he wasn’t an idiot. Y/n was breathtaking when they met, and she was even more so now. He could only imagine how many times people tried to flirt with her when he was away. Just the thought lit a spark of jealousy in him.

Y/n ran a hand through his hair. “Good to know we’re still wildly possessive of each other.”

Harry chuckled and kissed the spot just above her brow. “Always will be.”

She kissed him, leaving him no time to react before pushing her tongue past the seam of his lips. Harry groaned appreciatively, the low rumble making her toes curl. Y/n relished every movement, every stroke of his tongue against hers, each inch of her skin he claimed with his hand.

They were as quiet as they could be, aware of their daughter in her crib just a few paces away. A mouth on the shoulder to muffle, slow movements that didn’t have them breathing heavily but still sent them reeling, kisses that swallowed any noises that wanted to escape. By the end of it, they were littered with love bites and completely spent.

Y/n rested her head against Harry’s chest, her hand resting on his stomach as her thumb caressed the soft skin there. He worked out quite often and was in great shape, but she loved that he had a little bit of a belly.

“What would the world think if they knew Harry Styles had a dad bod?” Y/n murmured, giving him a soft pinch.

“Hey,” Harry replied, but wasn’t actually offended. “You love this body.”

“I do.”

Tipping her head up, she kissed him, sighing against the comfortable slide of his lips against hers. She was about to rest her head back on his chest when there was movement from the crib and a soft cry.

Shimmying into a pair of pants, Harry went over to the crib and picked up Simone. “Just this once,” he said, laying her down between him and Y/n, who didn’t hesitate to take her into her arms. In seconds, Simone was fast asleep, her cheek squished up against Y/n’s shoulder.

“Perfect,” she heard Harry whisper before his arm snaked over Y/n’s waist. Simone’s hand subconsciously reached for Harry, latching onto his hair. He kissed her cheek once before resting his head on his pillow once more before falling asleep, savoring the peace he felt of sleeping with his family in his arms.

#harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles angst

[frozenmoonshine]

Headcanon - Hanma Shuuji as your boyfriend

Ok, I hate myself for writing this, 'cause I hate this bitch just as much as Pissaki, but I've been fighting my intrusive fluffy thoughts about him and they won, sooo here they are:

Beware of insinuated hetero relationship, f!reader, and common terms of endearment.

He's a flirt, definitely. He knows he gets lots of attention from the fairer sex simply for being tall and good looking, but he also loves the fact that he's a smooth talker and can get pretty much any girl to fall for him. And he's not better than doing just that, simply because he needs some amusement in his life. Talk about being a piece of shit, going around breaking hearts for fun.

‌However, if he genuinely falls for someone, he basically does a 180⁰ turn and is the most loyal lover you could get! He will, most definitely and undeniably, try to make his SO jealous by casually flirting left and right, just because he can, and he enjoys seeing your frustrated, annoyed, jealous face. However, if you get jealous or hurt for real, he will genuinely freak out, and will try his best to reassure you that he loves you and that he was just messing with you. You are the only one for him, after all, his safe haven and his light! If he realizes that he stepped overboard with his "jokes", he will change his behaviour immediately. Idk why, but he just gives me the vibe of someone who perfectly understands boundaries, and he will choose to honor his commitments.

‌He himself is not jealous at all, and no matter what you may do, he wouldn't get jealous. The bastard is just so cocky and aware of his desirability (even tho he overestimates himself quite a lot), it's unnerving! But unless he straight up catches you "red handed" with another guy, he won't be jealous in the slightest. And if that happens, if you do cheat on him, then he might just beat your side piece to a pulp, and walk out on you like you never even existed. He will be heartbroken about it for a long time, tho.

‌Don't do him dirty, even as annoying and flawed as he is, he is still worth it! He can be super loving and affectionate in private, and he will be your no. 1 cheerleader, in whatever you're aspiring to achieve. Tell him all about your adventures tho, he loves a good story!

‌He gets too easily bored, so he would fall head over heels for someone who can engage him in deep and interesting conversations, and be a bit of a tease as well, just enough to always keep him on the edge of his seat, but not to overdo it. After all, he is the tease one in the relationship, and he doesn't like the idea of giving up that title.

‌Speaking of him being a tease... yes, he's absolutely insufferable! In every sense. (Yes, that too!)

‌Dates with him are always so random and spontaneous, like, he'd take you on a bike ride to the beach at 3 AM, and you'd make sand castles in the dead of the night, just because. It's totally not because he's secretly a hopeless romantic and wanted to watch the sunrise with you, btw. Or he might get you out of your school/work just to take you to the rooftop of the highest building in his neighborhood, where you guys can throw water baloons on the passers-by down there, and photograph their reactions. Or you two would be in a middle of a rollercoaster ride and he'd scream into your ear: "Babe, let's go have a picnic in the woods, this ride is boring!" The worst best part - his idea of a "picnic" is pranking hikers by making weird noises. At least one thing is for sure with him - there is never a single dull moment!

‌But even as the chaos elemental that he is, he is actually looking for (inner) peace. He would want to feel safe and taken care of in a relationship, and I can picture him falling for his childhood friend. If not that, then he'd definitely go for the cozy, domestic, girl-next-door type. Despite what he shows to the outer world, he just craves familiarity and warmth.

‌His friend-turned-girlfriend definitely calls him Shuu-chan. He pretends it annoys him, but there's nothing he loves hearing more. And I will die on that hill if need be!

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers headcanons #tokrev headcanons #tr hanma #hanma shuuji #hanma headcanons #hanma x reader #hanma x you #hanma x y/n #tokyo revengers manga #hanma shuuji x reader #hanma shuuji x you #hanma shuuji x y/n #shuuji hanma