#(Guys It Makes SO MUCH More Sense If You DO Keep Up)

[bacchuschucklefuck]

doing chibi is a good design exercise bc it forces u to think on shapes n essential details, essentially thumbnailing ur designs. its also a terrible design exercise bc it ends up looking cute no matter what

[rowarn]

shadow entity!ghost cw: it/its prns for ghost, protective!ghost, implied vomiting from a hangover, sexual assault by third party, implied murder of said third party, unedited /: part: one

it was strangely easy to fall into the life of living with an unknown shadowy entity in your house. it wasn't particularly talkative or friendly -- it was sort of like living with a really creepy, introverted roommate. except occasionally it made the atmosphere feel 5x heavier around you. and there was always the looming threat that it would kill you.

your life outside your home continued on -- college, work, and the difficulty of making friends now that you lived in a new city. a bar is where you happened to meet a guy -- phillip, you recall his name. he was older than you but seemed quite polite.

after a night of drinking, you return to your home, buzzed and happy. you stumble into the house, brows furrowed as you tossed your shoes off before collapsing in a heap onto your couch. the springs creaked under your weight and you groaned at how uncomfortable it was. but you weren't going to be able to make it to the bed, you knew that for sure.

just as you were drifting off to sleep, that familiar, heavy feeling filled the room.

"ghost..." you sighed, "i'm drunk."

"drunk?" its deep, echoing voice came in response, sounding almost confused.

you were too out of it to consider that too much, instead simply explaining, "i had too much to drink."

it hummed in response, offering nothing further. you finally relaxed letting you sleep overtake you.

only to wake up with a hangover. you jumped tot your feet the moment your eyes opened, throwing yourself over the toilet bowl. sweat beaded on the back of your neck as that oppressive feeling washed over you.

"are you still drunk?" it asked, making you groan.

"i fucking wish," you spit into the toilet, cringing at the awful taste that still lingered on your tongue before sitting back and leaning against the wall, "this is what i get for drinking, i guess."

"drinking?" it asks, curiosity lacing its tone.

you hummed, "you know, alcohol," it remained silent and you raised a brow, "what? you didn't drink alcohol when you were alive? jeez, what century were you from?"

"i am alive," it responds easily.

you grunted, "right, right. you're not actually a ghost, that's right. so what--"

your phone obnoxiously ringing stopped you short. you stood, steadying yourself using the wall before you stumbled out into the living room to find the device. it was sitting on the floor, clearly having fallen there sometime while you slept.

when you answered it, the familiar voice from last night spoke -- asking you out on a date. as much as you wanted to say no because of the raging headache currently pounding behind your eyes, the desire for actual human connection after being away from your friends for so long urged you to agree.

so you did.

the date went surprisingly well, he was a gentleman and polite with a bit of a sense of humor that had you grinning through the entire dinner. he even paid for both your meals and by the time the two of you were walking out, you were more than willing to invite him over to your place.

"ah, but," you cleared your throat as you stood on your doorstep, suddenly remembering the problem inside, "i have a uh...roommate. it- he is a little odd. i-if you hear any...weird sounds, just ignore it. he's kind of flighty and shouldn't bother us otherwise."

"that's alright, sweetheart," phillip assured, offering you a kind smile as he followed you inside.

when you stepped in, you were relieved that you didn't feel ghost's presence.

"do you want a drink?" you ask, wandering towards the kitchen.

"sure, darlin'," he mumbled, looking around your place.

"have a seat if you'd like," you smile, disappearing into the kitchen.

as you grab a glass, a familiar, dark form takes its humanoid shape in the corner. you jump, almost dropping the object before you glare at it.

"ghost," you hiss, keeping your voice low so your guest doesn't hear you, "don't scare me like that." it remained silent, simply standing there. you could feel eyes burning into you, making the hairs rise on the back of your neck, "look, he's just gonna be here for a little while, okay? then he'll leave. just...don't do anything, alright?"

it remained silent, it's shadowy figure wriggling and shifting with varying shades of darkness. you tried not to stare too long -- staring into that murky black always had you seeing weird, scary things from within that disappeared the second you blinked.

"ghost," you urged it to answer you.

it didn't offer any response before vanishing. you sigh in relief but still feel apprehensive that it was going to do something to scare your guest. phillip was the first real, human connection you had since moving here and you weren't about to let that little shadowy shithead ruin it.

you plastered a smile on your face before greeting him back in the living room. phillip grins and thanks you for the water, taking a few sips before placing the glass on your table.

after a few moments, sitting up and making sure that ghost wasn't going to make an appearance, you settled into the couch and turned on the tv -- the otherwise deafening quiet of the house really stifled the atmosphere.

the energy between you and phillip grew and grew until you found yourself kissing him right there on the couch. as you pulled away to take a breath, he dove back in immediately, pushing you onto your back. you frowned, hands moving to his shoulders to push him back a little bit. he didn't mind, moving his lips down to your neck and to your neckline.

"h-hey, slow down, phillip," you mutter, pushing a little more forcefully at his shoulders.

"can't," he breathes, sounding positively drunk on you, "i've wanted you since i first laid eyes on you."

you roll your eyes, frowning when his fingers slipped under the hem of your shirt, "hey-! i told you to stop!"

as soon as the words fell from your lips, the lights flickered dangerously. phillip didn't seem to notice but you knew immediately. your guests hands continued to wander and you kept trying to push him off to no avail.

"s-seriously, stop it," you cried, growing more nervous as the seconds passed.

how could a simple need for human connection turn out so rotten?

"don't want to," phillip huffs, "i know you want me too, baby."

"no!" you shriek.

then, all at once, something terrifyingly heavy fills the room. you know that sensation all too well -- it was the night you first saw ghost's shadowy form.

phillip paused, no doubt feeling that same dark feeling looming over the both of you, making it hard to breathe. he looks confused, "what the-?"

the floorboards creaked, loud, booming footsteps coming from some unknown place in the living room. it sounded right next to you yet across the room at the same time.

darkness surrounded the both of you, blocking out the living room completely until all you could see was darkness. somehow, your eyes were able to adjust, seeing phillip's petrified face, a strange, purple filter seemingly coloring the both of you within the shadow.

"close your eyes," it's voice sounded completely different now. though it didn't address you, you knew it was talking to you so you quickly did as you were told and slammed your eyelids shut.

your breathing was labored and loud as was phillips. he sounded terrified.

"what the fuck?!" he cried, a petrified kind of voice you'd only ever heard in movies.

then, a scream. an animalistic, horrified scream you didn't know could come from a human being. you squeezed your eyes shut tighter before slapping your hands over your ears to drown it out. but it was impossible, it was too loud -- too horrific to block out.

the scream was cut off, complete silence following that made your ears ring. you couldn't resist opening your eyes to see what had happened.

but there was nothing.

just the inky blackness of ghost's shadow. no sign of phillip to be seen.

slowly, the darkness dissipated, taking shape in that familiar, humanoid form. your living room came back into view and your eyes adjusted painfully to the sudden light.

"ghost?" you pant, finding it difficult to catch your breath after that. you look around frantically, "what was that? what did you do? where did he go?"

ghost didn't respond, shadowy form flickering in and out and sight before vanishing completely. you frowned, heart racing in your chest so painfully that it made your head pound.

you looked around, for any sign of the man you had brought home. but there wasn't a single sign he had ever even been there. it was silent in your home aside from the tv playing in the background.

you sunk into the cushions of the couch, unsure of anything that had just happened. you were starting to doubt that phillip had even been there to begin with.

but on the floor was a black scorch marked circle. right where ghost had stood.

[ma1dita]

Why do I see Luke and trouble being like "Shut up and kiss me" after Luke or trouble (whichever) talks about something they enjoy and the other is like I'm gonna kiss them cause they're so cute

done and dusted

luke castellan x dionysus!reader

a/n: fun lil short blurb for lukie pooks!! enjoy kissing him lol ty for the req morghen this was from a while ago-> check out my partners in crime series if you wanna see more

wc: 675

There’s a subtle curiosity that fills the air whenever Luke Castellan is around. You know by now not to deify gods nor people, much less a curly-headed boy with flighty eyes and a grin that always makes you feel like he knows something you don’t.

“Dangerous… the way you’re looking at me right now, trouble.” Luke’s grin is almost evil as his gaze washes over your curled up frame on the tattered couch. You’re gathering fabrics and props from the basement of the Big House for the next play you’ll organize, and Luke came along to help you carry some boxes (you’re more than strong enough to do so by yourself, but he just wants some alone time with his girl).

“M’not even doing anything! Just looking at you,” you smirk, bumping his hip against yours and his cargo pants brush against the skin of your thigh. He hisses, dust clouding your view of him when his leg catches the edge of the wooden table in the corner of the room.

“What’s this for again?” he sniffles, wiping his nose and tossing a headpiece into another box as he watches you sort through sequins and scrolls on the floor.

“Romeo and Juliet. Classic. You know I have a thing for Shakespeare,” you begin to ramble, swooning over one of the greatest love stories of all time but all Luke can do is focus on the one between the two of you. He’s oddly quiet, and you turn from your bent over position to see him admiring the view. Rolling your eyes you grumble, “Babe, were you even listening?”

“Yeah, you were talking about having a thing for a dead guy that isn’t me….” he teases, pulling you in by the belt loops as your hands trail up to wrap around his neck, “and you were about to tell me about how much you love me!” He smiles stupidly, like it’s a matter of fact. He’s incredibly lucky it is, he thinks, as you crack a smile and kiss his jaw, shaking your head at your boyfriend’s antics. “That’s not even what I was trying to say, Luke. Even though I do love you. What I was saying is that Romeo and Juliet is an amazing piece of literature because no matter what they go through, it all starts and ends with love. How beautiful is that?” you yap, not noticing that he’s backing you onto the edge of the dusty table. Like you weigh nothing, between your breaths you’re lifted onto said table with a yelp and his hands stay firm and warm on your hips.

“You’re beautiful.”

“For gods’ sake, Luke,” you giggle, “what do you want?”

His nose trails a path from your collarbone to your cheek and up into your hair—the scent of you overpowering the other elements in this decrepit room. Sweet, and soft, and his.

“I want the love of my life to just shut up for a second and kiss me. How about that?” he murmurs, lips already brushing against your growing grin as you pull him in by the curls on the nape of his neck.

Sometimes he wishes it was more normal to keep eyes open during a kiss. Luke doesn’t want to miss a single second of you even as you occupy all of his senses—the plush of your skin under his wandering hands, the smell of your perfume wafting as he pulls you closer into him, the sounds of your soft moans under his ministrations and the taste of you in his mouth as you slip your tongue against his own, dancing in familiarity in tune with your noises. He sneaks peeks of you through heavy eyelids—unable to rip away from the sight of your bliss in his arms.

And then you’re pulling away with a smirk, “M’not letting you defile me in a dusty basement, much less in my dad’s house.”

His lips press against your temple as he sighs, moving in the shape of words you can barely make out.

“Worth a shot.”

[borathae]

Sext

↳ Full Art

"Because Taehyung is currently on a business trip, you and he haven't been able to be intimate in weeks. Plagued by unbearable desire, you ask him to send you something sexy. Luckily for you, your husband is an obedient good boy with an amazing artistic sense."

Pairing: CEO!Taehyung x CEO!Reader

Genre: Smut, married life!AU

Warnings: sub!Taehyung, Dom!Reader, sexting, sending of a dick pic, kinda public sex at first because he touches himself on a balcony, phone sex, guided masturbation, mutual masturbation, lots of dirty talk, praise, good boy!kink, she uses a vibrator on herself, he uses his hands, she tells him to cum on his own briefs, he is so whiney and needy for her, guided aftercare, they're lowkey so kinky with each other

Wordcount: 4.2k

a/n: i decided to write something for the ihyily!couple again hohoho enjoy besties, this is very horny 💚 i hope you guys are enjoying my stories lately, feedback's been kinda little for all of them so i can't really tell. also big shoutout to all the lovely people who do leave feedback, i see you and love you!!! either way, enjoy my besties hehe

You are on your back, stretching your limbs from you in the middle of your king sized bed and with your eyes glued to the sky light on your ceiling. On normal nights, you would already be fast asleep by now, but because you haven’t been with your husband in a week, you aren’t. 

The bed is too big without him. 

You miss him so much. You miss his cuddles and his kisses and his voice and his scent and his smiles and his jokes and his hugs and his everything. You huff out air in frustration. Yes, you miss his everything. 

You roll your head to the side, flipping your phone to check the time on your clock app. When one of you is on a business trip in another time zone, you always put in the zone on your apps to see what time the other is currently experiencing. 

Taehyung must currently experience early evening hours. The beginning of sundowns, the sound of people driving home from work, the scent of dinner in the air. You want to be with him. Listen to Paris get ready for sleep, eat dinner on the balcony, drink wine and play with him.

You falter for a moment. There it is again. That heavy lump in your stomach. That heavy, hot lump of build up frustration. It has been bothering you ever since the morning, making it difficult to work. If Taehyung was home, he would have already helped you take care of it. You miss him so much. In more ways than one.

Before Taehyung left for his business trip to Paris, you and he weren’t able to have goodbye sex because you were on your period and felt too shitty to be horny. You aren’t on your period anymore and you are paying the price. You keep thinking back to the last night with him where you cuddled instead of fucked. If you could turn back time, you would take him so many times in so many ways that he forgets his own name. 

Your eyes gaze at your home screen. A family pictures of you, Taehyung and your daughter. Nope. You need other pictures, now is Not the time for family pictures. You need to see him and only him. In the kind of ways only you get to see him. You open your pictures and the folder you titled “my stinker”. It contains pictures solely of Taehyung. Be it random candid pics, posed pictures or all the selcas he sends you. There are too many of them and you are currently getting lost in them. 

He is so handsome and cute and pretty and sexy and handsome and, and, and. 

You huff out air. You want to bite his cheek and feel him up, but you can’t. It’s fucking unfair. 

Missing him unbearably, you open your messages next. Your text is typed within seconds.

-          You: do you have time?

Taehyung’s answer comes moments later.

-          My handsome ♡: I do, but why are you still up? 

It is currently one in the morning where you are. You normally fall asleep at eleven, sometimes even ten because being a working CEO and mother is exhausting even with such a supportive and involved husband as Taehyung by your side.

-          You: i can’t sleep ㅠㅠ

-          My handsome ♡: NOOOO why?

-          You: I miss you ㅠㅠ and I’m lowkey horny

-          My handsome ♡: 😪😪 

-          My handsome ♡: I understand your pain

-          My handsome ♡: 😪😪

You wiggle your toes in excitement.

-          You: are you horny too?

-          My handsome ♡: 😂😂 No, I meant that I miss you too 😂😂😂

You huff out air, feeling slightly hot in embarrassment.

-          You: sorry, I misunderstood ✊🏻😔

-          My handsome ♡: 😂😂 It’s fine ♡♡♡ 

-          My handsome ♡: I’m getting horny now that you mentioned it ;)

You feel hot in excitement. He is willing to play into it. God, you are tingling like crazy between your legs.

-          You: are you?

-          My handsome ♡: ;) yes ;)

-          You: fuck baby…

You put the phone aside for a moment to get a toy and some lube. 

You prop yourself up on your backrest and work yourself up with just two fingers first. You get to play with him. The aspect is turning you on to the point where typing becomes difficult to do with one hand.

-          You: I got a toy…

-          My handsome ♡: omg 🥵 are you using it? 

-          You: soon…working myself up

-          My handsome ♡: You’re so hot 🥵😭🥵

-          You: fuck Tae 🥵 where are you?

-          My handsome ♡: Hotel balcony. I’ve got the sun setting and a glass of wine by my side. I’m wearing your favourite sweater ;)

-          You: the green one?

-          My handsome ♡: Yes ;););)

-          You: 🥵🥵 you are seducing me

-          My Handsome ♡: 😂 only you can get horny over a jumper

-          You: Don’t judge me, you look hot in it

You take a few deep breaths. Your touch feels good. Knowing that he is sharing this moment with you really excites you. You crave something again.

-          You: Fuck Tae, send me something sexy please 👉👈

-          My handsome ♡: Something sexy? Like this?

A selfie of him arrives next. He is looking into the camera with half-lidded eyes and his lower lip between his teeth. The golden light of the setting sun gives his hair and skin such a sexy glow to them. On the lower corner of the picture, glimpses of his green sweater are visible.

You bite your lower lip and let out a frustrated whimper. You want to crawl through your phone and eat his entire face. He is so fucking handsome.

You type your answer with shaky fingers.

-          You: I wanna tell you the nastiest things right now…

-          My handsome ♡: don’t hold back ;)

-          You: I wanna fucking sit on your face and ride it till I cream it…I’m touching myself right now, but all I want is your tongue on me…

- You: If you’d be here right now, I’d use your pretty nose as my toy and mark it as mine. Fuck Tae, you’re so sexy…

Taehyung types for a while. Knowing him, your answer surprised him despite your initial warning. He is a little shy cutie after all. You stay online until he finally answers you.

-          My handsome ♡: omg…

You smile, feeling your stomach tingle. All this time of typing and his flustered brain came up with “omg”. If you didn’t need him before, you need him like crazy starting now. Your fingers speed up between your legs. He is so sexy.

-          My handsome ♡: This just made me hard omg…

-          You: Show me fuckk I need to see

You are panting as you wait for the picture. Taehyung went offline, which means he is taking it with his phone camera. He will probably take a while because he is very particular about the kind of nudes he sends you. You have a folder of them on your phone, hidden behind a passcode only you know. He also never sends you nudes without getting asked or warning you, which makes them so much sexier. You can’t wait to see how he is going to show you his pretty cock.

The picture arrives with one singular emoji under it.

-          My handsome: 🥺

It taunts you. Of course he is acting like that when he literally just sent you his dick. You download the picture, opening it with bated breath. One you release in a moan once the view presents itself to your eyes.

He is pulling his beige pants down, exposing his shaft and pubes. His hand is in the picture, his green sweater is as well. The picture is clearly taken outside, judging by the warm, sunset-esque colours. He took it on his balcony.

You try to text him, but then get too needy to do so. You send him a picture back. Two of your fingers buried deep inside you. You are all wet and puffy, presenting yourself for his viewing pleasure. He sees it and goes offline instantly.

A second later your phone rings. It’s him.

You pick up without hesitation.

“Hey there”, you try to sound nonchalant, but your voice is just slightly raspy from arousal.

Taehyung is panting. You know that he is struggling with his words because of you.

“Tae?”

“Can I touch myself, please?” he croaks, sending jolts of excitement through you. He is such a good boy asking for permission like that.

“You wanna touch yourself?”

“Yes. Oh god, you’re so sexy”, he groans.

“Mhm…you’re sexier”, you purr and turn on the toy. You hold it close to the phone so Taehyung can hear.

His breathing speeds up. His chair creaks in the background as he clearly shifts in it.

“Please”, he begs quietly.

“Soon. Listen to me push it inside, yeah?”

“Yes, Madam. Oh god, you’re so sexy, I’m going insane.”

You drag the toy through your folds twice then finally thrust it into you, moaning loudly as it fills you up. Taehyung moans with you, turning you on like crazy.

“Tae…baby…I’m so wet, fuck…it fills me up so good…”

“Can, can I touch myself now?”

“Not yet, be patient.”

Taehyung whines, motivating you to move the toy inside you. God, you love when he is needy for you.

“Mhm Tae… I’m fucking myself with it. Almost feels like you.”

“Oh god, I’m so hard”, he whines, “please can I at least take it out?”

“Are you outside?”

“I am”, he has his sexy voice on. God, you want him so bad. 

“And you still wanna take it out?”

“Yes please, hurts so bad.”

“Poor boy.”

Taehyung whines, breathing shakily afterwards. You take out the toy and thrust it back inside, giving him a delicious moan. You know for a fact that he can hear the vibrations and how wet you are around the silicon shaft.

“Please Madam…” he begs with an obvious pout on his lips.

“How much do you want it?”

“So much. I miss you, please I’m horny too.”

“I love it when you talk like this. Fine, take it out.”

Taehyung thanks you in a breathy moan, lifting his hips so he could pulls his pants over his butt. He lets it punch up under his balls, wrapping his long fingers around his cock. It glows prettily in the sunset light, begging to be touched.

“Now listen to me, okay?”

“Yes, Madam.”

“Are you holding it right now?”

“Yes.”

“Feel up your shaft for me, but leave out your tip.”

Taehyung follows your orders, guiding his fist around his length. It feels good, but leaves him desperate. His tip is his favourite spot, it’s so sensitive and reactive. Having to leave it out feels like torture. He breathes heavily into the phone, giving you little whimpers each time his fingers have to stop right under his frenulum.

“For how long do I have to do that?” he asks hopefully.

“Until I tell you otherwise”, you dismiss him and bury the toy deeper, “fuck Tae seriously, this toy feels fucking amazing. It’s hitting the right spots.”

“Oh god.” He ogles his own cock and his fingers right under his tip. Maybe if he controls his voice well enough, you won’t find out that he is touching his tip. His fingers itch in the desire to disobey. One little movement… just one….

“You feel better tough, fuck I’m thinking about you and how you fuck me. You’re always such a good boy for me, Tae sweetie.”

Taehyung moans, moving his hand away from his tip as quickly as possible. What was he thinking? He doesn’t misbehave, he is your good boy. He bites down on his lower lip and keeps his touch focused on nothing but his shaft despite how leaky his tip gets because of it.

“Are you my good boy, Tae sweetie?”

“Yes, Madam. I’m your good boy”, he keens, nodding his head vigorously.

“Of course you are…are you wet for me?”

Taehyung looks at his tip. It is flushed red with pearls of excitement leaking from his slit. If you were here right now, you’d play with it or lick it off of him. Taehyung rolls his head back slightly at the fantasy, whimpering his answer.

“I’m wet for you.”

“You are…” You increase the vibrations, opening your legs further. “Take some of it and taste it for me.”

Taehyung obeys your orders, letting you listen to him as he licks his finger. He moans softly as he does it, acting slobbier than he needs to just so you have something good to listen to. Your breathing speeds up, your heart races. It sounds as if he is between your legs sucking and licking your clit.

“Does it taste sweet, baby?” you ask him shakily.

“Yeah, sweet”, he purrs, flicking his tongue against his own thumb.

“Fuck Tae, do it again.”

Taehyung obeys, licking and sucking on his fingers as if he was feasting on your pussy. You talked about sitting on his face and creaming his tongue and he is hellbent on making the fantasy as real as possible.

“It tastes so good, Madam”, he lulls.

“I wanna fucking sit on you, fuck.”

The desperation in your voice makes him tingle. He is needy too, but you sound feral. If he wasn’t such a good boy for you, he’d tell you a bratty little comment about your state. But instead of teasing you, he begs again.

“Can I touch my tip now, please?”

“Yes, fuck, yes.”

Taehyung acts instantly, wrapping his fingers tightly around his cockhead to pump it. He moans loudly, rolling his head back and closing his eyes.

“Thank you, ah…feels so good…”

“Slow down.”

His obedience comes before his mind can even register what his hand was doing. He slows down, keeping the movements as minimal as possible. The whimper he lets out makes you speed up in return.

“It’s so slow…”

“I know baby, I know. Keep it like this until I tell you otherwise.”

“It’s hard, mhhmmm.”

“Be my good boy, baby. I know you wanna be my good boy.”

“Yeah..good boy…”

You smile in bliss. He is so perfect. Even now that he is so desperate, he still listens. You could probably tell him to stop and put his cock back into his pants and he would listen. Your stomach tingles. What a good idea actually.

“Tae sweetie?”

“Yes, Madam”, he gets out between his heavy breaths.

“Stop touching yourself and put your pants back on.”

“What?” he sounds devastated.

“Go on, you heard me.”

“Why? Please…”

“By my good boy, baby.”

You hear him whimper in frustration followed by agonized sounds of him having to stuff his raging boner back into his pants. You throb around the toy at the aspect. He is such an obedient boy for you. It’s difficult to hold back on your orgasm when he is acting like that.

“I did it. I don’t know why you made me do that, but I did it”, he tells you with the biggest pout ever.

“Send me a pic.”

“Wait”, he is still clearly pouting.

Moments later your phone vibrates. You put him on speaker and open the picture he sent. He actually put his pants back on. The light material stretches around his boner, barely wanting to keep it in. A dark spot has appeared on the fabric where his tip can’t stop leaking.

You laugh.

“Why are you laughing?” he sounds distressed.

“Oh it’s nothing, I’m just laughing ‘cause you actually did it.”

“You told me to”, he is almost sassy in the way he talks back. Sassy but also very frustrated.

“Mhm I did. I was just messing with you.”

“___”, he gasps, making you laugh and moan at the same time.

“Okay, okay fuck stop whining, it’s making me cum.”

“No, you’re so mean. It hurts to have it inside”, he continues whining.

“Fuck Tae, keep talking and I’m gonna cum.”

“I, I…really?” he whimpers.

“Yes, fuck”, you pull the toy out, groaning in agony, “fuck that was so close.”

He takes a deep breath, squeaking as he breathes out.

“Please can I touch myself again? Please?”

“Go inside first.”

“Why do you wanna tease me today?”

“Just feeling like it.”

“Oh god.”

Taehyung keeps the balcony door open, now standing in his hotel bedroom with a hard-on in his pants and his head dizzy in need.

“I’m inside. Please can I touch myself now?”

“Get naked first.”

He puts the phone on speaker and starts undressing. He is in the midst of sliding off his sweater when you stop him.

“Keep the sweater on. I’ll ask for a picture of proof.”

“I’m already naked then.”

“Yes? Good boy. Send me a picture of your cock, keep the sweater in the angle.”

Taehyung obeys your orders, using the sound of your heavy breathing and little moans as motivation. The picture he takes is definitely not his most artistic masterpiece. It is a little blurry because he can’t stop his hands from shaking. Your loud reaction is satisfactory enough however.

“Fuck, look at you. I wanna sit on it. God, wanna fucking choke on it and make it squirt.”

Taehyung feels weak in the knees. It aches not to touch himself.

“Does this mean I can touch myself again? Please? Maybe? Please, please?”

“Soon. Put your briefs on the bed and do it over them, okay?”

He obeys your orders even if he is confused. He lays out his briefs and begins pumping his cock above them.

“I’m doing it, Madam”, he moans, feeling blurry. His touch is electric, his cock so sensitive.

“Good boy. Keep touching yourself. I want you to cum on them and then mail them to me.”

His knees buckle. He has to use the mattress to catch himself and push his own faltering body back into a standing position. He leaks heavy droplets of pleasure, feeling his pulse throb in his cock.

“What?” he squeaks.

“You heard me. Repeat it to me.”

“You want me to.” He gasps and whimpers. “Want me to cum on them and.” He keens your name. “And mail them to you.”

“That’s right.”

“Madam, this is getting me close.”

“I know it is. Don’t stop. Focus your touch on your tip.”

“I am”, he whines.

“Good boy. Keep telling me how close this is getting you.”

“It won’t take long.”

“Good boy, keep going.”

The line fills with your shared moans. He is so loud and breathy while you answer him in purrs and drawn-out moans. You both have your eyes closed, minds racing with images of shared moments together. If you concentrate hard enough, it almost feels as if you were fucking each other right now. As if Taehyung was pumping his cock deep into you, hitting the best spots over and over again.

“Fuck Tae, keep going baby. So good”, you moan, arching your back.

“Can I move my hips please?”

“Whatever you need baby, just keep moaning for me.”

Taehyung chases the pleasure instantly, fucking his own fist as if he was fucking you. He moans louder for you, feeling his sense of reality blur.

“You’re so tight tonight”, he gets out.

“I am?”

“Yeah, so tight. Ah!”

“Just for you baby, my good boy”, you moan, meeting his movements with needy rolls of your hips. Not that he is actually with you, but it feels like it.

You and he are so far gone in the fanatsy, the distance is no longer there. It’s just you and him. 

“Love fucking you, baby. Love it so much…aahmmm….”

“Madam…ah…love it too…”

It is Taehyung who breaks the fantasy first. His instincts told him to open his eyes and look at you and so he did only to be met with an empty bed and his hand around his own cock.

“I miss you”, he whimpers.

You open your eyes to his flushed face only to be met with the ceiling instead. Your stomach tightens.

“I miss you too”, you get out, “Tae, it felt like you were there.”

“For me too”, he confesses, “I’m really close, just letting you know.”

You laugh breathily, “fuck, you’re so good. Such a good boy. Tell me three things you love about yourself and maybe I’ll let you cum.”

“My, my eyes and my hands and my…my nose.”

“Cause I can grind on it?”

“Yeah”, he whimpers, nodding his head vigorously.

“Shit, so hot. Where are you touching yourself right now?”

“My tip. It’s so wet, Madam.”

“So sexy, fuck. Keep talking to me.”

“My, my cock is so flushed. I’m so red at the tip.”

“Fuck, so hot. Ah Tae”, you moan, rolling your eyes back in delight as you bury the toy as deep as possible to draw circles with it. Your voice pitches, only coming out as gasps.

Taehyung speeds up his hand, furrowing his brows at the perfect sounds you let out.

“Are you feeling good, Madam?”

“Yeah…so good…hitting the right spot.”

He exhales shakily, moaning deeply.

“I’m leaking on my briefs, Madam.”

“Shit. Tae. Woah fu-fuck.”

“Close?”

“Really.”

“It’s all over my fingers too. They’re so wet and sticky, Madam.”

“Tae. Baby”, you whimper, tightening around the toy.

“I can’t stop leaking, Madam”, he mewls for you, jerking his cock loud enough that you can hear the wet mess he makes.

“I’m cumming”, you get out and feel the knot burst. All you can gasp is his name, body shaking out of control as your high takes over.

Taehyung moans with you, scrunching his face in agony from holding back. He wants to cum with you, but knows that you never gave him permission to do. So he is left moaning prettily for you and listening to you floating on absolute bliss.

You come down with curses and shaky gasps for air, ending it with a disbelieved “damn”.

“Fuck, can I cum? Please?” Taehyung begs, feeling delirious in frustration. He genuinely can’t do this for long anymore.

“Cum for me, baby.”

“Yes. oh god yes. Madam, yes. ___, yes, yes, yes”, he chants and breaks with one last squeak of your name, emptying his heavy balls all over his briefs. He twitches and shakes, throwing his head back as your name repeatedly leaves him.

“Good boy. Cum for me. Good boy”, you talk him through it, tingling in your afterglow. Listening to his orgasm is truly the best way to calm down after your own intense high.

“I’m done. Can, can I stop?” he soon begs, sounding stressed. You know that his sensitive cock is burning in overstimulation.

If he wasn’t such a good boy tonight, you would have told him to keep going.

“If you have to. You were such a good boy tonight, you can choose yourself.”

“I’m stopping. Sensitive”, he says and the wet squelching stops. He breathes out shakily, mumbling a ruined, “holy fuck.”

“Mhm, liked it?”

“Yeah, liked it.”

“Did you cum on your briefs?”

“Yes, Madam.”

“Good boy”, you praise and sigh in contentment, “lie down for me, sweetheart.”

He obeys, letting his head sink into the pillow. He takes one of them and hugs it to his chest. He purrs happily.

“Comfortable?”

“Yeah, just missing you.”

“I miss you too.” You sit up to discard the toy and clean yourself. “Do you have a tissue by hand?”

“Yeah, by the nightstand.”

“Clean yourself for me.”

He obeys, giggling quietly.

“I’m sensitive.”

“Be careful, yeah?” you chuckle fondly.

“Yes, Madam. Oh god, I’m so giddy. You fucked me so good.”

“I feel giddy too. You were such a good boy for me.”

Taehyung giggles, snuggling back into the pillows and kicking his feet giddily. He loves being your good boy.

“Do you actually want me to mail you my briefs?”

You laugh, “I think I was just being unhinged there. I feel like it would start to smell funny before it can get here.”

“Right”, he agrees, laughing with you, “oh god”, he exhales, “this was actually so sexy. I’m still dizzy.”

“I’m glad you liked it. I was kinda feeling myself.”

“I was feeling you too. You’re such a good talker.”

You wiggle your toes in giddiness, feeling really good inside. He always knows what the say to make you feel like the sexiest Dom ever.

“God, I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You and he smile, hugging the pillows you are holding closer. If you concentrate hard enough, it almost feels as if you are hugging each other.

“Mhm, I’m so comfy. This is exactly what I needed.”

“Me too. I was thinking about you before you texted me. It’s been a week since I left and I kept thinking about our last night together.”

Your heart flutters. You and he are so similar.

“You did?”

“Yeah.”

“Tae, I regret not fucking you that night.”

“God, don’t say that”, he says, having to giggle.

You smile, “you’re cute.” A yawn interrupts you.

“Are you tired?” he asks.

“Mhm, yeah.” Another yawn. “I know it’s not really night at your place yet, but can you stay with me as I fall asleep?” you ask him.

“Of course, my sweetheart. Can I tell you about my day?”

“Please tell me. I wanna know everything, my sweetheart. I might doze off in the midst of it though.”

Taehyung laughs, “that’s okay. I don’t mind.”

[paiges-1vur]

welcome to the party pt. 4

—————-

paige bueckers x oc!

c/w: smut, language, bdsm, edging, bondage, masochism, sadism, choking

a/n: Sorry for making you guys wait so long for the last part! lmk if you liked this series and drop some fic reqs in my ask box! also im ovulating rn sooooo… yea.

I wrote this lying down in bed with my custom Paige blanket 😭 (also i was 🍃 in the middle of writing this so im sorry if it doesnt make sense or has alot of errors)

——————————

“Ana.” Paige’s face flashes with concern, “before i start, we need to establish a safe word. If you ever want me to stop you need to tell me right away, and I will.”

Im taken aback by Paiges sudden change of emotion, but understand how important this is to her. I nod my head in understanding.

“Your safe word is red, okay? you need to tell me that you understand, use your words.”

“I understand.” I whisper, “now please let me have it Paige.” I become more needy each second she isn’t pleasing me.

She flashes me a devious smile as she climbs down to move in between my legs.

“So heres how its going to go. I can make you feel good, as long as you do exactly what i say.”

“O-okay” My breath hitches as i anticipate her touch.

She bites down on my inner thigh before soothing it with her kiss. I yelp at the sudden pain but cant help the pleasure it gave me. She moves to my other leg and does the same but bites down even harder this time.

I fail to suppress a needy moan.

“Do you want me to keep going?” she asks in between my legs.

“Yes Paige.” I answer with my eyes shut tightly

“Okay, I can do that. But if you want me to keep touching you, you need to tell me why you want it. What makes you want me to fuck you so bad”

I feel her breath on my exposed pussy, still dripping and sensitive from her teasing me earlier. I cant take this any longer.

“Your so sexy when you play basketball” I confess. She plants another kiss closer to my core.

“So you have watched my games?” I can feel her smiling below me. Shes so cocky.

“Ive watched your highlights Paige.” I admit. At this she grabs my hands and reaches into her nightstand to grab something. She takes my hands and handcuffs them to the bed above me. I look up at her doing this and it drives me crazy.

I take this as a sign to keep going. “Thinking about having your long fingers buried inside me drove me crazy all night.” She reaches up a hand before spitting again on my clit. I whine at the sudden movement of her slowly moving over my clit in circles.

I arch into her touch and squirm against the restraints above me.

“Stop moving.” She commands. I do as she says and she rewards me with a quick, “Good girl.”

Her agonizingly slow pace is driving me insane. I decide to speak up, desperate for release.

“Paige,” I breathe. She looks up at me. “Please.”

A mix between a growl and a laugh comes from her. “Please what.” she picks up the pace of her fingers ever so slightly, teasing me.

“Please fuck me. Fuck me so hard, right now.” She looks up at me tied to the bed, a mess everywhere begging for her fingers. The bed is already soaked by this point but Paige wasn’t even close to done with me.

She sucks on 2 fingers before putting them inside of me. My back immediately arches into her touch and she licks her lips looking down at the sight of me. She puts her free hand on the side of my stomach providing her a better angle as she fucks me with her fingers.

Her pace is much faster than before. She curls her fingers reaching my G spot and my eyes roll to the back of my head. At this point I’m screaming Paiges name for the whole building to hear, but I don’t care.

“Fuck!” I scream out loudly. Paige takes this as a sign to lower herself onto me and start using her tongue and fingers at the same time. She teases my sensitive clit with her tongue while driving her fingers in and out of me at a relentless pace.

“I cant take this anymore,” I breathe out between heavy moans.

“Dont come yet.” Paige is still using her mouth and her fingers at the same time with ease. It’s destroying me from the inside out, and it takes everything in me not to come all over her perfect fucking face right then and there.

My legs start shaking with exhaustion, and Paige knows Im about to come. She keeps me on the edge for about another minute until I really cant take it anymore. Right before I ride my high she comes out from under me.

Before i have the chance to say anything she sticks her fingers into my mouth, dripping wet with my arousal. she makes me lick her fingers clean before giving me a good mouth fucking with them.

Im so overwhelmed I cant even speak. she licks the rest of myself off her lips before flipping me over on my stomach.

“On your knees.” She commands, “Ass up” I do as she says and get on my knees, still not understanding whats going on.

She moves my hands to be cuffed behind my back and my face is stuffed deep into the pillows.

Shes sitting behind me, and i can feel her eyes burning into my skin.

“So fucking beautiful.” She lands a hard slap on my ass and I jump. This doesn’t stop her from doing it again, leaving yet another hard slap on the other side.

She ties my feet together, so Im stuck in this position. the restraints are tight and when she sees im wiggling she plants a more agressive and firm slap on my ass.

“Dont you fucking dare.”

Before I even process her words I let out a loud moan. Paige is in between my legs eating me from the back. She licks a long stripe up my folds before she hums against my pussy giving me goosebumps.

Im still being held back by the restraints burning into my ankles and wrists. She starts fucking me with her mouth relentlessly, as if i was her last meal ever.

Im a complete mess, dripping all over the already soaked sheets, screaming and moaning at the top of my lungs, shaking with exhaustion.

her nails dig into my thighs as she grips them for support while driving me absolutely crazy with her mouth. I can feel I’m reaching my high and my breathing quickens, as my body starts to shake heavily.

I can feel her fast breathing and her hungry growls as she continues to eat me out with ease. Her tongue is driving me crazy and i cant take it much longer.

“Paige, please let me come I cant take it any longer” I manage to breathe out in a needy tone. My head is stuffed so deep in the sheets, that i’m sure are stained with tears and leftover makeup.

“I’ll let you come.” I feel her smirk below me as i anticipate the catch. “But I want to hear how good of a job i did.” I shake my head in the sheets and she laughs. She whispers against me, “And you have to call me mommy.”

Her breath against my core, along with her dirty talk is enough to send me over the edge. I use everything in me not to come then and there above her.

“O-okay” I stutter out as her mouth returns to my clit, teasing it slowly. She starts to bring her fingers up to me, and pushes two inside of me

Her other hand is on my hip helping me ride her fingers while her mouth is focused on my clit. She pushes another finger inside of me. Im riding her fingers, flooded with pleasure, unfolding ontop of her.

“Im going to come” I scream out still riding her long slim fingers. “You fuck me so good,” Im talking in between moans and shallow breaths. “Nobody else can ever fuck me as good as you- holy shit.” I release a deep moan as Paige curls her fingers inside of me still pumping them in and out of me at a relentless pace.

“Mommy please let me come, im so close, please” I start crying, my pleading muffled by the pillows.

Paige removes her mouth from under me, sitting up now behind me. She keeps fucking me with her fingers while she plants another hard slap on my already bruised ass.

“Yeah baby, you need to come?” She starts teasing me. “Who fucks you so good. Who makes you a mess everywhere huh? Nobody else but me can fucking do that- do you like i can.” She spits.

“Such a filthy whore about to come all over my hand. Come baby.”

I scream as i release myself all over her hand, squirting all over the bed, finally releasing after hours of built up pressure. Paige takes off my restraints before flipping me back onto my back.

She comes up to my face. “You did so good for mommy.” She smiles and whispers to me.

She makes me taste myself, slipping her dripping fingers in my mouth. As I suck them clean for her she brings her other hand to my throat choking me. Still overstimulated from the release I just had, I start to see stars. I fight to breathe while she fucks my mouth with her fingers and chokes me with her other hand.

Once she thinks ive done a good enough job cleaning her fingers she releases her hand from my throat.

“Now what do you have to say to me?” She asks into my ear. Her breath is hot and sends shivers down my arms.

“Thank you mommy.” I whisper back to her.

———————————

hey guysss so this is the last part and this mini series is finally over! lmk if i should keep writing and don’t be shy to drop reqs for me! Im lowkey high asf rn so im really sorry if most of this doesn’t make sense 😭 i love yall anyways

[kazanoic]

Hello! How about a fic where Jiyan falls in love with a courtesan and decides to buy her out of the brothel? Like in the red light district, where girls (or guys) ended up because of debts.

DREAMS OF THE CAGED. jiyan / gn.reader

-> a toast to a better future

tw: anything to do with brothels (nothing suggestive or explicit however.)

wc: 1.6k

a/n: shh you never saw me struggling with romance, of course not. this took everything out of me to finish, and as always, I don't know batshit about brothels and how they function.

From the moment you learned to think, you knew almost instantly that you would be burdened with the ever-so-increasing debt your parents will put on you. You never blamed them for gambling, for being addicts— because every decision they make; be it stupid or not makes perfect sense to them at that time… but one thing you will never understand is why they needed to so badly have you. You will never understand why they didn’t just die in debt and end their overflowing legacy of liabilities. You will never understand why you’re born into this world, and you blame them for it every second of your goddamn life.

When the familiar piercing ray of light catches your eyes, you remember your place in this overwhelming sea of madness; a lowly courtesan who serves the scums of the earth. You don’t know whether to thank your “agents” for deeming you attractive enough to appease those of a higher status, because frankly rich or poor, they are all the same. Insufferable.

You walk out of your room, ignoring the obscene sounds that echoes throughout the halls. As you attempt to leave the brothel, a co-worker catches you.

“Break?”

“Yeah, I'll be back in an hour.”

“I’ll call you back if there’s a client coming on short notice,” the brothel-keeper pipes in.

“Madame, please don’t,” you chuckle.

“Hold up, I’ll go on break with you, I have 15 minutes!” That same coworker spoke, walking quickly to your side.

As you trudged through the red neons of the district, the both of you started to talk— the sound of conversation and laughter slowly fills the air as you talked about your dreams; to live a life free of worries— to exist far far away from the harsh turbulences of life, and to enjoy the simple act of just existing.

“As a kid, I wanted to be a farmer."

“No way? Are you being serious?”

“Yeah, doesn't it sound pretty great?”

“It actually does seem pretty nice.”

But no matter how much one wished, or hoped, or begged– at the end of the day wishes are just merely wishes. It doesn't matter whether you wished upon a shooting star or the your bedroom ceiling, wishes are simply just a strong desire for things that are unattainable. So Instead of longingly looking at stars in the night sky, counting how much money you needed to have your debt repaid, and to live a long fulfilling life, you decided that you just had to suck it up.

‘Ah! My 15 minutes is up, I have to get back to the brothel! See ya,” your coworker waved before swiftly making their way back into the brothel.

You wish them good luck before continuing on your mindless journey, relishing in your short lived break before a tuft of fur catches your eyes. You smiled before quickly walking up to the feline, “Miao Mao, did you get fatter?” You squat to get a closer look, keeping your hands to your knees so as to not taint your fingers with their “filth”. Having enough fun, you got up as graciously as you possibly could so as to not taint your image with such inelegance. As soon as you got up, you made eye contact with a stranger, and you couldn't help but stare just a little longer than you should've.

‘Madame's client?’ You deduce. Your time here was more than enough for you to more or less pinpoint the types of people seeking for pleasure and those seeking for an informant. He was obviously seeking for the latter– there was an air of hesitancy and slight discomfort around him; that alone was apparent enough to you. He might not be madame's client, but his hanfu and appearance told you otherwise. Madame's service is the most pricey and yet the most accurate one in the entire district; it'd be frankly stupid, if he didn't go to her for whatever intel he seeks.

You contemplated for a bit if you should approach the confused man yourself, but that thought was cut short as the man walked towards you. “Hello. I am looking for…” He paused for a second, seemingly as a cover for his embarrassment, “Mei Mei Brothel… do you know where it is?” He muttered as quietly as he could while still making sure you could listen so he wouldn't have to repeat himself. You laughed at his demeanor before opening your mouth, “well aren't you adorable? I'm on my way there, shall we go together?” He nodded silently before walking beside you, matching your pace just right.

“Are you a…” He tried striking up a conversation.

“Yeah. I'm a courtesan there,” you reply.

“I see,” he thought a little more, half hoping to continue the conversation but promptly walked by your side in silence to prevent you from saying anything you didn't want to.

“I've been working here since I was 14, so I'm quite familiar with this place. If you ever need a place to eat or whatever, you know where to go,” you use your head to point at the neon billboard of the brothel you worked at.

You walked in the brothel, the familiar sweet scent obliterates your nose– the man scrunched his nose ever so slightly as he followed you in.

“Is Madame here? There's a client waiting for her,” You spoke to the receptionist.

“Madame's still with a client, she'll be done in a few minutes,” the receptionist looked at you before averting her eyes to Madame's client. “While waiting, do choose a courtesan. It will be free of charge,” the receptionist hands him a book filled with all the courtesans working in the brothel. He opened the book to scan for you. When he found you, he looked at the receptionist and said your name.

You heard your name escape his lips and you froze. ‘do I… have to walk back…’ Before letting you decide, the receptionist beckons you over, knowing you wouldn't have arrived at your room yet.

“Let’s go, shall we?”

“Yes.”

You occasionally glanced at his monotonous expression, hoping it’d crack just a bit under the sounds that echoed throughout the halls.

“Since you now know my name, it is only fair that I have yours, no?”

“I apologize for not telling you sooner. My name is Jiyan.”

“…”

“Is there something wrong?”

“Of course not. I just didn’t quite expect you to be the general.”

“Do I look unfit to be one?”

You slid open the room, ushering him to sit on a cushion on the wooden floor.

“I think you’re too attractive to be one,” you laugh, “if i knew you were the general I should've treated you with more respect.”

“There really is no need for that. I’d like it better if you’d stay as you are.”

You turn on the lights, closing the door behind you with a soft click.

“I’ll keep that in mind, general.” He gives you a look, one which you return with a grin.

“Would you like some tea?” You ask in which he replies with a curt nod. You brew the tea wordlessly, slowly pouring it on a clean cup.

“Careful, it’s hot.”

“Thank you,” he smiles.

“I’m sorry I didn't recognise you sooner, we don’t get a lot of news here, so most of us don’t know what you look like— we heavily rely on word of mouth here. They’re plenty reliable.”

“I don't mind the slightest,” he says before picking up the cup, blowing it quietly; the steam floating slightly above the cup splits apart under his breath before reforming once more. The cycle repeats a few more times before he places his lips on the cup, taking a sip.

“It's good.”

“I'm glad you like it.”

“Do you usually drink tea?”

“If the guests would like me to do so, I would. Otherwise I do not,” you say truthfully.

Before Jiyan could respond, the door slid open, the long-awaited figure emerged at last.

“General, I sincerely apologize for the wait. My previous client was rather demanding.”

“I understand,” Jiyan replies. He finishes the remaining tea in his cup and stands. He looks at you, smiling, “thank you.”

“The pleasure is mine,” You return the smile.

“I'll see you again?” He asks, almost hesitant.

“You know where to find me.”

– x –

For what seems to be weeks, he'd come to meet the brothel keeper for his needed information; making sure to come a few minutes earlier so you could keep him company for the time being. But you don't realize when it all started to change– when his purpose shifted from getting information to meeting you.

Buying your time for hours on end not for the reasons one would go to a brothel, but just to exist with you– to live beside you for just a little bit every once in a while.

“You know this isn't what brothels are for, right? Brothel's aren't used to making friends, Jiyan,” you laugh as you joke.

“I don't want to be friends with you.”

“Brothel's aren't used for courting either, darlin’,” you smile half heartedly, looking at the man's frown, “it's not that I don't want to, princess. it's that it's written in my contract– unless you're willing to wait 5 years for my debts to settle.”

“Is there any other way?”

“Not one I've ever heard of.”

Unbeknownst to you, the day when Jiyan left your room, he approached the brothel keeper, beckoning her to give him a way to free you of the shackles you were forced upon. She told him that there was a way: to have him pay your debts. He agrees soundlessly, promising you the freedom you've always dreamt of.

So when you hear the news the next day, he stood waiting for you.

“Let's go, shall we?”

“You stole my damn line.”

“Are you upset?”

“Don't give me that face, sweetheart. I very well know your intentions.”

You walk towards him before pressing a kiss onto his lips.

all rights reserved © kazanoic // do not copy, translate, repost.

[epiphainie]

I see and love all your tearjerker proposal ideas, but we don’t talk enough about the absolute hilarity that would ensue with an Evan Buckley Proposal™️. Like I’m imagining him being soooo excited about it in the most Buck way possible. He has this ten page speech about how much he loves Tommy and how they’re soulmates and the universe pulled a sick one by putting them on each other’s paths and he’s planning to tell Tommy all that before he pops the question and he’s preparing this big romantic night for it with the most romantic flowers and the most romantic music and the most romantic ring at the most romantic place in all of Los Angeles and he’s roped in everyone at the station to help him, threatened Chim with cold-blooded murder if he doesn’t keep his mouth shut, made Eddie reassure him about every step of his plans not twice but thrice, talked to Bobby with blushing cheeks and fidgeting hands till Bobby gave him his absolute blessing. Hen, Maddie, Athena, they’re all in on it. He’s Ready to do it The Right Way.

Then at like 2pm on a lazy Tuesday afternoon his poor brain that has been overworking on this for weeks gets overloaded and crashes. And suddenly he Needs To Ask Tommy Right Now. Like, just like that the entire plan is overridden, and he doesn’t even process what he’s doing before he sends Eddie a text that just says, “I think I will do it now” and ditches his phone and marches to the garage where Tommy has been working on his truck all day.

The next thing we know Eddie is opening his door to a Buck who has his arms wrapped around himself and his big blue eyes are filled with tears. He looks like a puppy kicked a thousand ways and before Eddie can even open his mouth he cries out, “He said no,” and drops face first on Eddie’s couch. Eddie is like ???? but also “Well, I can’t deal with this shit on my own,” so he calls Hen and Chimney and ten minutes later Buck is sitting on the couch being interrogated by his best friends.

They’re all obviously confused.

Hen, disbelieving, asks, “He said no?”

Buck makes the most pathetic pitiful sound known to the human kind and nods.

Chimney, not really helpful, murmurs, “Well, that doesn’t make any sense,” to himself because he knows how much Tommy loves Buck and would say yes to marrying him months, hell, years ago.

Hen, trying to make sense of it all asks, “What did he exactly say?” because Chim is right, it doesn’t make a lick of sense.

Buck, still looking like a wet cat, goes, “He said it wasn’t the right thing for us.” His voice hitches and he moans, “He said it wasn’t s-smart.”

Hen and Chim shoot a look at each other. Eddie at this point is getting angry because what the fuck? Which is exactly what he says and Hen, the only one trying to be actually somewhat helpful, shakes her head like, “No, Eddie,” and then to Buck with what she hopes is a reassuring voice says, “Maybe he just doesn’t believe in the institution of marriage?”

Buck looks even more miserable at that and buries his face in his hands as he bemoans “Noooo,” and shakes his head like he’s grieving. “We t-talked about it before. At the beginning of our relationship, we both agreed we’d do that if it felt like the right time.” He slumps back on the couch like his life has just ended. “I t-thought it was the right time.”

Eddie, totally pissed off now because how are you gonna be with a guy for years, move in together, buy a house together, be committed to each other fully, and then say no to his marriage proposal, goes, “Oh fuck him. Do you want me to beat some sense into him?” Because damn, this is his best friend who looks absolutely crushed and Eddie will kick Tommy’s ass, fuck the fact that he’s really good at Muay Thai, he hasn’t seen Eddie’s wrath before.

Hen, still the sound of logic and seeing how Buck gets sadder each passing moment, stops him again. “We’re not beating anyone up.” Then says, “Buck, I’m sure it’s a misunderstanding. Tommy loves you.” Because yeah he does in the most sickening teen boy with a puppy crush way, so none of this makes sense and Hen’s brain is whirring but she’s not sure what’s happening yet. “And you love Tommy.”

Buck, hands covering his face again moans into his palms, “I do.” Then his hands drop, and his face shot with panic and fear he goes, “Wait?! Does this mean we broke up?”

A pissed-off, disbelieving noise leaves Eddie; Chim shoots another look towards Hen’s way; Hen just gives an awkward unsure smile. “No. No.” She tries to reassure him. “Of course not.”

“I mean,” Chim says with a shrug. “I don’t see how a relationship comes back from that, you know?”

This gets Buck start crying again.

“You’re. Not. Being. Helpful. Chim.” Hen mutters.

Eddie jumps up, “Oh, I’m beating him up for you.”

Buck’s wails get louder.

It all devolves from there with Buck going between hollering and sniffling and Eddie dead-set on confronting Tommy and Hen trying to do damage control with “We’re just gonna talk to him,” and Chim continuing to be absolutely unhelpful with his comments about how Tommy is great, and so cool, and perfect, and he’d make a great brother-in-law, and this doesn’t make any sense.

So, the four of them somehow find themselves marching towards the Buckley-Kinard house with Eddie at the helm and Buck looking like a pathetic mess between them. They’ve barely entered the front yard when Tommy bursts out the front door with his phone in his hand and he goes, “Where have you been?! I’ve been calling you for hou—”

“I trusted you, man!” Eddie shouts, voice echoing through the street.

Tommy stops in his tracks. He takes in the sight of his friends who are all shooting him deadly (and confused) glares. Then he looks at his boyfriend and finds him avoiding his eyes, keeping his gaze at his feet like all the happiness has been sucked out of his entire universe. Brows furrowing in confusion, Tommy takes a step towards him. “Evan.” He tilts his chin up and sucks in a breath when he sees the tear tracks on Buck’s face. His own face crumbles, now in concern. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

Eddie lets out a mirthless laugh. “Pretending you don’t know, huh?”

Tommy looks at him, at Chim, at Hen. “Don’t know what?”

“Oh, you’re a bigger asshole than I thought, Kinard.” Eddie spits in his face, his head shaking. “Acting like nothing’s wrong after saying no to a guy’s proposal so cruelly.”

Tommy freezes. His gaze snaps to Buck with a confused, “What?” but Buck is avoiding his eyes again. “What proposal?” Tommy asks. “Evan didn’t propose to me.”

At this point all tired and beaten Buck sighs, “It’s okay, Tommy.”

“No. No—” Tommy shakes his head. “What are you talking about?”

Buck shrugs. “We don’t have to talk about it now.”

“Evan.”

Sighing again, Buck finally looks up. “Look, I get it. We can talk about it later.” He chews at his lip. “Right?” Because he’s still not sure if they’re broken up or not and god he really wishes they’re not because marriage is a dumb institution rooted in patriarchy to maintain and reinforce traditional gender roles and they didn’t even let two men marry till a decade ago, so it’s not like they need anyone’s acknowledgement and all he needs is Tommy, but also he had the absolute perfect ring picked out and he doesn’t know if he can get a refund on it, and calling Tommy his husband would be so fucking nice, and maybe he has been dreaming about that for the past however many years.

At this point, he’s tearing up again, so Tommy cups his face and brushes away some of the tears, before saying with the biggest gentlest eyes, “We can talk about anything you want. But… Baby, what proposal?”

Buck sniffles. “Earlier. W-when I asked you in the garage.”

Tommy frowns harder because that doesn’t make any sense. “You didn’t ask me to marry you, Evan.”

“Yes, I did, Tommy,” Buck huffs.

“No, you asked me if I wanted to take a vacation.”

“I think I know what I asked.”

“You said you wanted to go on a trip!”

“That’s not what I said!”

“Okay, you didn’t say trip! You said, you said something like if I wanted to take a new journey with you! Embark on adventure or something. You said you wanted a travel companion for a voyage!”

“Lifelong voyage.” Buck murmurs, lips pursing and arms crossing together. “For our grand adventure together.”

No one says anything for a minute as Buck avoids their eyes and scuffs his feet in the dirt.

At last, as the person with any semblance of intelligence Hen says, “Buck. Did you use any word related to marriage? Like “husband” or “marry” or even “matrimony”?” Her eyebrows rises. “Anything that’s not a metaphor?”

Buck, face red up to the hairline now, just shrugs. “I had a-a speech, okay? I was n-nervous and it was long so I had to paraphrase.”

Finally, Hen sighs, not unkindly.

Chim chuckles, kinda unkindly.

Eddie looks almost as embarrassed as Buck and murmurs, “Sorry, man,” to Tommy as the realization hits it was just his best friend being a huge dumbass and Tommy actually didn’t do anything to deserve a beating.

Tommy, his entire focus on his boyfriend and not paying them any attention, pulls Buck’s arms down and lifts his face up again. He gives him a smile. “I said no because I thought you were asking to go on a trip, Evan,” he says softly. “And that we’ve just got a mortgage together and can’t afford one.” He shakes his head. “I was covered in grease, Pearl Jam was playing in the background, I wasn’t paying attention.”

Still looking abashed but at least not snotty anymore, Buck says, “N-no. No. It’s my fault. I’m sorry, Tommy,” he says with a shrug.

Tommy smiles again. “It’s okay, baby.” For a moment, he rubs his boyfriend’s arms up and down, then says, “Sooo…”

Buck, realizing the faint pink on his boyfriend’s face, looks at him with the roundest eyes. “You mean…?”

“Well…” Tommy shrugs. “Are you gonna ask me for real or what?”

The sun dawns on Buck’s face. His eyes go bright with fresh but happier tears. “Yea-yeah.” He nods frantically. “Tommy. W-will you marry me?”

“Yes,” Tommy says. Buck pounces on him with a kiss that gets a surprised moan from him as Hen, Chimney, and Eddie start clapping and Buck cries again and so does Tommy and later that night, Buck gives him the perfect ring he had picked out and come Saturday they actually go to the greatest restaurant in LA and Tommy listens as Buck explains every step of his original proposal and all the metaphors he’s curated carefully for his speech.

The end.

[villain-crown]

dust | @jegulus-microfic | words: 864

critical care, part 8 (part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7)

a Jegulus nurse!AU

James Potter was a catch. 

A brilliant, handsome, charming catch. He was confident boarderlining on arrogant, suave verging on dazzling, one of the smartest nurses in Gryffindor, and god help him, he was not going to fuck up the pass he was attempting to make at Regulus Black.

The very same man who had just texted him his clean STD panel after telling him in no uncertain circumstances that they would be fucking soon and enthusiastically.

[Of course, I expect you to provide the same results.]

Hell, James would take whatever test Regulus asked of him. He’d take the entire nurse licensing exam all over again if he wanted it. And blood results? James would stick himself with a rusty nail if it meant satisfying Regulus’s requirements. 

Play it cool, Potter. Play it cool. 

Not desperate, no; just cool, suave, James Potter. 

He had this. 

[For sure! You’re very organized lol!]

The answer: [I prefer no condoms.]

Holy shit, he did not have this.

“...you think Dorcas would go for that?” 

Sirius was still carrying on their conversation and did not seem to realize that James was about to pass out right in front of him.

“Sure, Pads,” he all but wheezed, fighting to keep a straight face. “Dorcas. Good idea.”

“Really, James, are you okay? You look… weird.”

He waved him off, clearing his throat. “No, no, I’m just… dust! There’s lots of dust floating around.” He coughed pointedly once more. “Keep talking, I’m listening.”

[Does that bother you?] Regulus asked while James was in the middle of saving his number. 

Oh, James was bothered alright. 

After some deliberation, he decided he needed some kind of code name for the Slytherin to be saved under. It would be nothing short of incriminating for someone to see Regulus Black texting him suggestive shit, but he needed something slightly less obvious than Sirius’s Hot Little Brother. He thought back to the little silver chain twined around Regulus’s gorgeous neck. Three letters hug off it: RAB. 

Perfect. 

…This was completely crazy. He was having a straight-faced conversation about possibly the most earth shattering, borderline-pornographic sex he would ever have in his life with Regulus Black and Sirius wanted to stand there and talk pranks.

[You’re so fucking hot. I am fighting for my life here.]

[You could stand to suffer more. So tell me what you’re into.]

Oof, what a loaded question. Well, apparently he was into best friend’s little brothers who enjoyed dirty sex, which was an interest he could do without. 

Good sense made him pause. 

Was he ready to hand over very personal, potentially humiliating information to a coworker he’d just met yesterday? The memory of Regulus’s gorgeous, lithe body standing on his toes as he leaned into James’s space to whisper the things I like might be a bit much for you was the deciding factor. 

Jame Potter would honestly hand Regulus Black a fucking loaded gun if this conversation would just continue. 

But what could he say in response to a question like that? He didn’t want to come off as too much, but Regulus didn’t strike him as the kind of guy that would be satisfied with too little, either. 

Fuck, what to do.

Apparently, Regulus has some ideas.

“Am I not entertaining you here, Prongs?” Sirius snapped loudly, forcing James to look up from reading the incredibly dirty texts that Regulus was starting to send. His best friend was glaring at him.

Suddenly, Sirius lunged for his phone. 

And James, who hadn’t expected it, found that he was too slow to keep custody of it.

“SIRIUS, FUCK OFF!”

“No! I want to know what’s so fascinating on here that you can’t be bothered to listen to me for the last ten minutes!”

He tussled with Sirius to steal it back, but with no luck. At a certain point in the scuffle, James became uncomfortably aware that the family of the patient in bed eighteen was blatantly staring at them. Embarrassed, James backed off, straightening his burgundy scrubs and trying to look professional. Sirius, who could care less what other people thought, didn’t even bother looking up, instead taking his time examining James’s text messages. 

He held his breath, desperately trying to come up with a solid defense for why Sirius’s precious baby brother might be texting him some of the dirtiest shit James had ever been sent. You know, just in case Sirius Realized. 

I was framed.

It was an accident.

He looks like my future husband. 

Weak. Weak defenses, all of them. 

Get it together, Potter! 

“No condom, huh? Wow, what a whore,” Sirius declared with the admiration of one who had shared that title. He glanced through the texts and negative STD results, making James nearly ascend. “I respect him. This guy knows what he’s about! Rab, huh? Who’s this again?”

“I didn’t say.”

Bloody hell, Sirius was going to kill him—kill him twice: once for having a single sexual thought about his little brother and again for letting Sirius say that about Regulus, who, according to Marlene, he believed was an innocent baby angel who could do no wrong. 

“It’s just some guy,” James finished faintly.

“Huh.” Sirius handed the phone back. “Hot. You should fuck him.”

…Well, if you insist.

[hayleythesugarbowl]

spencer agnew!

him and his partner are long distance and he surpises them and shows up

Birthday Wishes || Spencer Agnew x reader

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ masterlist • smosh masterlist  ⋆˚｡⋆୨୧⋆

summary: you and spencer have been long distance for some time now, and he decides he wants to do something special and surprise you for your birthday

word count: 3.2k

warnings: mild language

a/n: ahh i’m so sorry this took me so long to get to but i hope you enjoy it!! i love writing for spencer sm 🎀🫶 also it’s still the 19th where i live so happy bday courtney!! 🎉

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     “Do you think green is my color?”

     “Hello to you too, Spencer,” you spoke into the phone you balanced on your shoulder as you tied your hair up in a towel. 

     “Hey, small talk can wait. This is a fashion emergency,” Spencer’s voice filled your ear as you wrapped another towel around your body, fiddling with the edges to keep it in place.

     “Alright,” you said, “That’s enough Project Runway for you.”

     “It’s a good show!” 

     You giggled, shifting Spencer to your other ear.

     “So,” he continued, “What are you doing right now?”

     “Right now? Well, I just took a shower and now I’m talking to you,” you told him.

     “I don’t want to be one of those guys, but, damn without me?”

     “I’m hanging up,” you giggled. “And like you’d fly hundreds of miles just to shower with me.”

     “You’d be surprised,” his voice took on a teasing tone, “I do have those frequent flier miles just waiting to be used.”

     You and Spencer had been long distance for about two months now. You’d agreed to stay together even though you were going to be moving across the country. 

     You’d met your boyfriend at work about nine months ago. You’d both been working at Smosh when you began dating and it all took off from there.

     First dates, anniversaries, you getting a job opportunity in New York, and now this. Talking to Spencer on the phone no less than three times a day.

     It had killed you to leave him. But you’d agreed that this was the best option for both of you. Spencer was almost more invested in your career than you were and you really appreciated him for being so willing to make things work for you. 

     Now, you set your phone down on the counter and pressed speaker phone as you    began to moisturize.

     “Don’t you have something better to use those on than one shower?”

     “Hey, don’t think this is all about you,” Spencer said. “Your shower has jets. Who wouldn’t fly across the county to use that thing.”

     You laughed, rolling your eyes playfully even though Spencer couldn’t actually see you.

     “Plus,” he continued, his voice becoming more serious, “I’d get to kiss you.”

     And there it was. The one thing you couldn’t do while you and Spencer were miles and miles apart.

     No more forehead kisses after a long day at work. No more long embraces that smelled like him. No touching at all.

     God, you missed him so much. There was only so much that technology could do.   

     You sank down on to the counter, letting your elbows prop you up. 

     “(Y/n), you still there? You’re not watching Runway without me, are you?”

     You attempted a weak chuckle. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

     As if sensing your sudden deflation Spencer asked you, “Hey, are you ok?”

     “I’m fine, Spence,” you said, tracing the pattern of the countertop with your fingertip as you talked, “I just miss you.”

     “I know,” he sighed, “I miss you too. Really freaking bad.”

     There was silence between you before Spencer said, “But hey, your birthday is coming up soon. Any plans?”

     “Not yet.” You shrugged off his abrupt subject change. 

     You hadn’t really wanted to do anything for your birthday, not without Spencer. You  had tried to squander your roommates attempts at throwing you a party multiple times.

     You appreciated her efforts, but you kind of just felt like a quiet evening eating cake in your bathrobe.

     “(Y/n), it’s not every day you turn 68,” Spencer teased, “You gotta celebrate these.”

     “Very funny,” you deadpanned. “And you’re one to talk! On your last birthday you just came to work in your pajamas and made everyone obey that ‘Mountain Dew me’ button.”

     “And that was a party! Some people got seriously hammered.”

     “Sure,” you agreed, “If by people, you mean you. And by hammered, you mean sugar crashed.”

     “Ok, I don’t get shower pics and you’re gonna start correcting me? I’m so out.”

     “Wait,” you stopped him, “switch to FaceTime.”

      You waited for the image of him to show up on your screen, pulling on the towel wrapped around your drying hair. Spencer’s face appeared suddenly and your heart leapt as you took him in.

     He was laying in bed and had his head propped up on one arm, the other holding his phone in his hand as he smiled up at you.

     His hair was tousled and he had his glasses on and he looked so damn sexy that you almost forgot what you were intending to do.

     “Ok, if you want shower pics so badly…” You flipped your camera and began pretending to take rapid photos of the shower curtain behind you.

     “You are so stupid,” Spencer laughed, rubbing his hand over his face before laying it behind his head again.

     “And you’re gorgeous,” you said, flipping the camera back to front-facing.

     “And you are working that towel.”

     You rolled your eyes, walking out of the bathroom and carrying Spencer with you. 

     You plopped down on your bed, just opening your mouth to speak when you heard someone yell your name from the other side of the apartment.

     “(Y/n)! I’m home! And these groceries aren’t going to put away themselves!” Your roommate called.

     “That’s Layla,” you huffed, “I better go before she rearranges the whole fridge.”

     “I’m going to pretend I’m not hurt,” Spencer clutched his chest in mock injury. 

     “I’ll call you later tonight, I promise,” you blew him a kiss and stood up from your bed. “I was just about to get dressed anyway.” 

     And by dressed, you meant your pajamas. 

     “Dang, I can’t believe I have to miss that,” he said. “‘Sure you can’t just put me on the night stand?”

     “Pervert!” You stuck your tongue out at him.

     “Woah,” Spencer held his arm up, “I just wanted to see your choice of clothing. You always know how to perfectly match patterns and textures with the undertones of —”

     “No more fashion speak!” You giggled, “Goodbye, Spencer.”

     “Bye, baby,” Spencer said softly, and the regret in his tone made it hard to hang up. “Love you.”

      “Love you more,” you whispered before ending the call. You slumped down onto your bed, letting out a sigh. 

      “Thank god!”

     You whipped around to see your roommate, Layla, standing in the doorway.

     “I thought I was gonna have to end that.”

     You shook your head at her as she came to sit down next to you on the bed. 

      “You still need help?” You asked her.

      “Nah,” she waved it away, “You lovebirds took too long. If you weren’t so cute together, it’d be hella annoying.”

      You smiled. You loved your roommate, brutal honesty and all.

      “But now that we’re here, can we talk about your birthday?” 

     You opened your mouth to protest and she interrupted you.

     “I know you’re going to say you don’t want to do anything but please just consider it. Your birthday’s in less than two weeks and you still haven’t let me plan a party.”

     “I don’t know, Lay,” you said, for the hundredth time, “I’m just not in a party mood.”

     “(Y/n), you can’t spend the rest of your life missing Spencer and talking to Spencer and thinking about Spencer. I get that you love him but maybe a little party would take your mind off things. And your boyfriend would want you to have a good time. What do you say?”

      Your best friend had a point. You had been pretty preoccupied with Spencer when you weren’t working or sleeping.

     And maybe she was right, maybe a little celebration was what you needed. Spencer had wanted you to do something for your special day.

     Besides, your friend was trying to do something nice for you. And the more you thought about it, the more it sounded like it could be an enjoyable experience.

     “Alright,” you told her, “Plan away.”

     “That’s the spirit!” Layla beamed at you, grabbing your hand before bouncing out of the room, probably to go buy party supplies.

     You laid back on the bed, smiling at the ceiling. You were actually excited for the party. 

     Your phone buzzed suddenly, and you reached across the comforter to grab it.

You had two texts from Spencer.

[Spencer] : wait i was actually serious about the green thing though!! 

[Spencer] : i’m doing a merch shoot tomorrow and i need to know 🙏 

     You grinned at the screen, remembering the first part of your phone conversation.

[(Y/n)] : any color is your color babe 

[(Y/n)] : but actually go with yellow 

     You waited for his reply to come, smiling when you read his messages.

[Spencer] : what would i do without you? 

[Spencer] : k, i better go. i gotta hit the shower myself (jet-less)

[Spencer] : stay tuned for pics 😉 

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

     Four days. It had been exactly four days since Spencer had stopped answering your calls.

     He only responded to your messages with short, generic texts and whenever you asked if he could call he had somewhere he needed to be or something he needed to do.

     You tried to be rational—maybe he really had gotten pretty busy at work lately—but you couldn’t stop yourself from worrying.

     You looked at your reflection in the mirror,  surveying your party outfit and running a hand through your hair, as you though not-so-party-like thoughts.

     Today was your birthday and Spencer hadn’t called or even sent you a text. You tried not to let it get to you and instead look forward to the party that was probably already starting in the living room. 

     You took a deep breath and went to open your bedroom door, but it flew open before you reached the doorknob.

     “There you are!” Layla greeted you with a smile, “C’mon, let’s get this party started!”

     “Hey,” you put on a smile, trying to not think about Spencer. “I was just getting dressed.”

     “Well, you look hot so let’s go,” she grabbed your arm and pulled you down the hall.

     You were greeted by a decorated room with streamers and balloons and presents and partygoers milling about, talking and laughing.

     You knew about half of the people that Layla had invited and you gave her credit for that—you didn’t know that many people in New York yet. Most of your friends were back in LA.

     You got a sharp pain in your chest as you thought about your loved ones back home—especially Spencer.

     “I present, the birthday bitch!” Layla announced with a dramatic flourish. 

     You couldn’t help grinning at her as all of the guests turned to look at you and began clapping. 

     “Thank you all so much for coming,” you addressed the room. 

     “And thank you,” you turned to your roommate, “for planning all of this.”

     “It was nothing,” she said, “now go enjoy your party!”

     And that’s what you tried to do. You spent the whole evening mingling with people and being wished happy birthday and sampling the hors d’oeuvres.

     You were enjoying yourself—as much as you could, at least. 

     You sat down on a bright yellow chair in the corner that Layla had bought a few weeks ago—personally it wasn’t your taste, but she loved it.

     Kind of like large parties and giant social gatherings that required you to have nonstop conversations with people you hardly knew.

     You pulled your legs up into the chair, sitting criss-cross and hoping no one would notice you taking a quick break from the festivities. 

     “Told you you’d like this chair eventually.”

     You looked up to see Layla standing to your right. 

     “I guess it’s growing on me,” you said.

     She sat on the arm of the chair, pulling your head to rest in her shoulder.

     “You can say your miserable, (Y/n)” she said, “I won’t be offended.”

     “No,” you shook your head on her shoulder, “I’m not miserable, I promise. I’m just…tired.”

     “Spencer still hasn’t called I take it.”

     “Nope,” you blew out a breath, “I’ve given up.”

     “I don’t know,” she said, standing up. “He might surprise you. You never know what the night may hold.”

     “Why the narrator voice?” Your mouth quirked up on one side. 

     She shrugged, “It’s fun and i never get to use it.”

     “Now come on,” your friend began dragging your chair out of the corner and towards the center of the room, “Time to for cake!”

     You shrieked as she pulled you through people before abandoning the chair and going to grab a large cake sitting on the counter.

     Once candles had been lit and people had been gathered, Layla handed you your cake.

     “Alright, make a wish!” she yelled.

     That was easy. You knew what you wanted more than anything else. You didn’t even have to think about what you would wish for when you blew the flames out.

     Everyone began to sing me happy birthday and you let Layla snap picture after picture.

     You knew wishes were stupid and almost never meant anything, but you couldn’t help imagining what it would be like if your wish did come true.

     You squeezed your eyes shut and blew out your candles, only thinking of one thing.

     I wish Spencer was here. 

     All the guests erupted into applause and you smiled, hoping your longing didn’t show on your face.

     But god you wished Spencer was here.

     Everyone finished clapping. The room fell silent for a moment, before—

     “I hope you didn’t waste that on me.”

     You froze. The voice came from behind you. You almost thought you imagined it, until you turned around.

     Because there he was. 

     You blinked, trying to make sure he wasn’t a figment of your imagination. But this was real.

     Spencer was standing in your living room, his hands in his pockets, looking at you how you imagined you were looking at him. 

     “Now that,” he pointed at your chair, smiling, “is my color.”

     And that was all he got out before you were rushing towards him and into his arms.

     Spencer wrapped his arms around you, laughing, lifting you from the ground and spinning you in a circle before setting you back down. 

     The room burst into applause for the second time that night. You almost didn’t notice over the rush in your ears as Spencer embraced you. 

     He pulled back just enough so that he could cup your face in his hands. “God, I forgot how beautiful you are in person.”

     You had so many questions bouncing around in your mind, your thoughts racing. 

     You settled on the one that encompassed all of them, “How?”

     “Well, y’know, there’s some distortion with iPhone cameras so you can’t expect—”

     You interrupted him, “That’s not what I meant.”

     “Oh, you mean the whole me being in your living room thing?” He shrugged, pulling his hands away from you and back into his pockets, “I kinda flew here.”

      Spencer had flown—all the way from Los Angeles—to surprise you. You’d had no idea he was even planning this.

     As if reading your thoughts, Spencer said, “I wanted to tell you so bad, but I also wanted to surprise you for your birthday so I sorta ghosted you.”

     He rubbed the back of his neck. “I mean, c’mon, you know I would’ve spilled those beans.”

     And that explained the not calling or texting you. You couldn’t even feel relieved that he wasn’t mad or breaking up with you because you were so floored and excited that he was here.

     He had done this for you. 

     “Wow, I don’t know what to say Spencer,” you started, wrapping your arms around him again. “As far as gifts go, I’d say you win by a long shot.”

     “Hey, I helped!” Layla shouted, putting her hands in her hips, her grin almost as wide as yours. 

     “Couldn’t have done it without you!” Spencer shouted back before leaning back to kiss you on the forehead, whispering “She let me into the building.”

     You put your head on Spencer’s shoulder, letting him hold you. You tried to memorize everything about the way that he felt in your arms. You didn’t want this to ever end.

     “So,” Spencer said, his voice rough, “How about that kiss now?”

     “I guess since you came all this way…” you trailed off.

     “Good,” Spencer whispered, “Because I’ve been waiting to do this since I booked the flight. Turns out I did find a good use for those miles.”

     And then his lips where on yours and you forgot how to breathe.

     In all the times you had imagined finally kissing Spencer again, nothing was as good as this. This was passionate and starved and full of all of the words you hadn’t said.

     This was different than all of the kisses you’d shared before you’d been separated, you thought.

     And then Spencer mumbled your name against your lips and you were incapable of thinking at all.

     You weren’t sure how long you stayed like this until Layla’s voice interrupted you. 

     “Hey, I’m just as happy as anyone that you’re reunited,” she said, “but please, get a room!”

     You and Spencer pulled apart, grinning like idiots. The whole room chuckled.

     Spencer pulled you to the side as Layla began rounding people up and gathering decorations.

     You caught your best friends eye and mouthed ‘thank you.’

     She just smiled and shooed your attention back towards Spencer, pulling down a streamer.

     You turned to your boyfriend. 

     “Well,” he said, “Before we get that room, want to give me a tour of the place?”

     “You’ve seen most of my apartment on FaceTime,” you told him. “What’s there to see?”

     “Some things can’t be captured over the phone,” he said, his voice becoming more serious. “Some things need to be experienced in person.”

     “Spencer, if you’re talking about the shower—” You teased, nudging his shoulder.

     But you caught his meaning entirely. And you agreed wholeheartedly.

     “Hey that shower is a piece of art! And how little you think of me,” Spencer smiled, continuing, “I was going to wait until you showed me the bathroom before I made that joke.”

     “Spencer?” You got out, through your laughter as you led him down the hall.

     “Yeah?” 

     “I love you so much.”

     “Well, I should hope so,” he shot back, “Otherwise, I spent five hours on a plane—which didn’t serve Mountain Dew, by the way—getting kicked in the back for nothing.” 

     You shook your head at him lovingly.

     “And yeah,” he finished, “I love you too. More than Mountain Dew and Project Runway.”

     You kissed him on the cheek, continuing to pull him down the hallway.

     “I meant to ask,” Spencer broke the silence, “What did you wish for?”

     “You,” you said, pausing. “I wished for you. All I want is you.”

     “I don’t want to say ditto, but I couldn’t agree more,” Spencer teased. “All I’ve ever wanted is you….and maybe one shower.”

     “Spencer!”

     “Six jets! There are six jets in there, (Y/n)! Why does nobody get this?”  

      You just giggled and ran down the hall, leaving him chasing after you. You couldn’t stop smiling. This was the best birthday you could have ever wished for. 

     You rounded the corner, Spencer still calling after you, just a few feet behind you. Right behind you. Here. Yours.

      “Six jets and a heated seat!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ˋ°•*⁀➷ hope you enjoyed my loves!! stay tuned for more spencer fics coming soon 💋🎀

also bonus text convo 🤭 —>

[perkypeony]

Gojo-sensei x student reader ft. the first-years

"Alright, who wants to join me to try out a new dessert cafe?" Gojo announced as he entered the common room with his signature grin.

Y/N's eyes lit up immediately. "Count me in, Gojo-sensei!"

Yuji looked up from his spot on the couch, thinking about his initial plans. "Well, I was going to help Nobara with her shopping, but... yeah, I'll come. Better than carrying all her bags."

Nobara, overhearing, walked over with a raised eyebrow. "Dessert cafe, huh? As tempting as that sounds, I already have plans to hit the shops. Fushiguro, you still coming with me, right?"

Megumi sighed, already resigned to his fate. "I'd rather deal with curses than go shopping, but fine."

Nobara shot Yuji a playful glare. "You're ditching me for desserts? Some friend you are."

Yuji grinned sheepishly. "Sorry, Nobara, but I can't pass up on this."

Gojo clapped his hands together. "Excellent! Nobara and Megumi have their plans, so it’s just us. We’ll have a blast!"

The trio arrived at the dessert cafe, its colourful decor and sweet aromas instantly making Y/N and Gojo feel giddy. They ordered an array of desserts—cakes, pastries, and ice creams—enough to satisfy their shared sweet tooth.

Gojo took a bite of his towering parfait and sighed contentedly. "Isn't this the best, Y/N?"

Y/N nodded enthusiastically, savouring a spoonful of chocolate mousse. "Absolutely, Gojo-sensei. This place is amazing!"

Yuji, enjoying a generous slice of strawberry cheesecake, chuckled. "I gotta admit, this was a great idea. So much better than shopping."

As they enjoyed their treats, Y/N glanced at Gojo curiously. "Gojo-sensei, I've always wondered—why do you have such a sweet tooth?"

Gojo paused, a thoughtful look crossing his face. "You know, it's something that started when I was young. I started eating sweets to stimulate my brain. The sugar helped keep me alert and sharp. Over time, I just developed a taste for them."

Y/N smiled, feeling a sense of connection. "That makes sense. For me, I love sweets because my parents used them to get me to train. I hated training, but they promised me dessert after every session. It worked every single time."

Gojo laughed warmly. "Smart parents. And now you're here, a jujutsu sorcerer with a sweet tooth like me."

As they continued to enjoy their treats, the conversation flowed easily. Gojo shared funny stories from his past missions, Yuji talked about his training progress, and Y/N, feeling comfortable, opened up more about their life.

"Y'know," Gojo said, leaning back in his chair, "it's nice to have moments like these. Don't you guys feel tired training and dealing with curses every single day?"

Yuji nodded. "Yeah, it’s good to take a break and just hang out."

Y/N smiled warmly, "Thanks for bringing us here, Gojo-sensei. It means a lot."

As they left the cafe, the sun beginning to set, Gojo looked at his two students with a soft smile. "We should do this more often. I hope Nobara and Megumi can join us too next time."

"Definitely," Y/N agreed, already looking forward to their next outing.

Yuji grinned. "I'm in. As long as it doesn't involve carrying shopping bags."

Gojo laughed, ruffling Yuji's hair. "Deal. Next time, we’ll find another hidden gem. Maybe even a chocolate factory tour." Gojo grinned. "Speaking of next time, how about we make today even sweeter?"

Y/N's eyes sparkled with curiosity. "What do you mean, Gojo-sensei?"

"Follow me," Gojo said with a wink.

He led them to an upscale chocolate shop just a few blocks away. The luxurious displays and rich cocoa aromas were enough to make anyone's mouth water. Gojo pulled out his black card, waving it in front of his students' faces. "Pick whatever you want, kids. It's on me."

Yuji and Y/N exchanged excited glances before diving into the selections. They filled their bags with a variety of gourmet chocolates, feeling like kids in a candy store.

As they walked out of the shop, their bags full of treats, Y/N beamed up at Gojo. "Thanks, Gojo-sensei. This has been the best day ever."

Yuji nodded in agreement. "Yeah, thanks a lot. You're the best."

Gojo smiled warmly, feeling content when his students were happy, "Anytime, you two. Anytime."

[prolix-yuy]

Olive Branch

Pairing: Francisco Morales x F!Reader

Summary: If Frankie doesn't like olives, then what does he like?

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: T, alcohol consumption, mention of drug use, incredibly tame for me, hints of spice. While this story is not explicit, my blog and the content shared on it is 18+ MINORS DNI.

Notes: I was challenged by @happypedrohours to write a story involving Frankie and olives, and what do you know, these are two of my favorite things! I was snickering to myself the entire time as the olive metaphor rolled out, but what the hell, we're gonna keep it in! Enjoy my friends, and Happy Pedro Hours!

Cross-posted on AO3

When it slides in front of you, you know it’s a good one. You watched the bartender make one at the end of the bar and it was just how you like it. Dry, cold, three olives on a hardy metal toothpick. You were practically salivating by the time you ordered your own and it slid in front of you, shining like the Holy Grail.

“Didn’t know you liked martinis.”

Head whipping around, you stutter out a laugh as Frankie slides in next to you. He perches an elbow on the bar, free shoulder coming close as the crowd tucks you into each other. Your eyes dart to his crinkled brown ones, then to your drink, and back again to distract from the proximity. His hand is tucked into his faded jeans, but it wouldn’t take much to cup your elbow or wrap around your waist. 

“On special occasions,” you quip, tossing your head at Will and Tatiana surrounded by your friends. She’s showing the girls the ring, the men clapping hands on Will’s back and making him laugh. The air holds the fresh taste of new beginnings.

“Never had much of a taste for ‘em. Just gasoline in a glass,” he replies. Your face must be ten levels of indigent with how quickly his eyebrows shoot up.

“Do I look like a car to you?” 

Frankie’s eyes twinkle, and it flips your stomach.

“Definitely a hot rod.”

You laugh it off, rolling your eyes. He’s never serious, after all. He likes to ply you with compliments just short of flirty and leave you high and dry at the end of the night. The first time it stung so hard you didn’t go out with the boys for weeks. 

“He’s just a little fucked in the head, don’t take it too personal,” Santi told you when he finally wrestled the reason for your absence out. “Can’t stop chasing anything messy with two legs. Last girlfriend was a cokehead, even worse before that. He likes ‘em pretty and crazy, and he bags ‘em left and right. They always leave him worse for wear.” Santi’s eyes narrowed over his knowing smirk. “So now you like him?”

“Fuck no,” you spat out, arms folded tight. “I don’t deal with boys who play games.”

Yet here you are, again, with Frankie, ready to roll the dice yet again. At least he doesn’t know you’ve still got a soft spot for him ready to land.

“I’ll ignore the fact that you called Hendricks gasoline,” you scold, sliding your gleaming prize closer on its soggy black napkin. “There’s also vermouth, and olives.” You take a sip, the warmth of the gin and sharp salt of the charcuterie mainstay sweeping across your tongue. Frankie’s eyes drifting down to your lips on the rim of the glass.

What a cocktease. At least most men who eyefuck you actually follow through.

“Shaken, not stirred?” he quips in a rough approximation of a Scottish accent. You snort, instantly regretting it as the burn of brine and alcohol decimates your sense of smell. Trying to hide it under a tiny cough, Frankie’s face turns to the bar.

“Not much of an olive guy either, so you're 0 for 3 on convincing me.” 

You don’t know why, but your stomach sinks briefly as you gingerly twist the glass stem between your fingers. 

“Perfect, more for me then,” you shoot back brightly, but he looks back a fraction too soon before the disappointment flits away. 

“C’mon, you know you were never gonna change my mind,” he teases, jostling you with his shoulder as he motions for the bartender. 

“Never said I was,” you add absentmindedly. 

Frankie will never be an option. He’s made it clear time and time again that he doesn’t choose you. But sometimes, when you let your mind drift, you think about how it could happen. Some dark room where he finally finds something he’s been looking for. The brushing of noses and near-misses before one of you finally acts and you’d know what his lips feel like. Then he would lick into your mouth and his flavor would dance with acidity and botanicals on your tongue and he’d moan at how good you taste.

But he doesn’t even like olives. Or you.

Frankie’s drink is a golden lager, malt rising to your nose. You like beer too. You like a lot of things. You could sit at this bar and talk about your favorite drinks for hours. You’re not just the martini girl. You’re so much more. 

You need some air. Your daydreams are getting in the way of enjoying the night and Frankie’s none the wiser, so best keep it that way.

“I’m gonna bring my gasoline olives back to the party,” you say, ducking out from Frankie’s body without waiting for a reply. Maybe catching a glimpse of surprise, you strut back to the girls. The warmth of their excitement and enthusiasm reinvigorate your tight throat. 

Your drink dwindles slowly, savoring the clean flavor and crushing the olives one by one between your teeth. One of the girls tries the dregs of your glass and wants one of her own, so you weave back to the bar so you can help her order. A holler rises from the boys around Will, and when you look you catch Frankie’s face again. He’s all beaming smiles, eyes barely visible from behind his crows feet and gleaming teeth. He catches your eye and his smile softens, and over the din of the bar he mouths “you good?”

You nod. Of course you are. What would Frankie know about that?

The drinks come, followed by cheers and hums of contentment. You will definitely be tipping well tonight. Before you can make it back to the group Benny cuts off your path, swooping one arm behind your back and your free hand into his. 

“No no no, Benny, I’ll spill!” you shriek, feeling the telltale wetness of a sloshed drink over your fingers. “Shit, I think I got it on the back of your shirt…”

“Ah, I’ve had worse,” Benny says, mock-dancing with you to the barely audible music. 

“How’s Will?” you ask, leaning over his shoulder to snag a healthy sip of the martini. Now a more manageable level, you let Benny lead you away from the bar.

“So in love it makes me sick.” You raise an eyebrow. “In a good way!” he adds, turning you so the man in question is visible. Tatiana’s tucked under his arm, and his mouth drifts to kiss the top of her head.

“You know what, I get it,” you agree, the both of you snickering as the tempo of the music changes. It might be a Hozier song? It’s hard to tell over the babble of voices.

“How are you?” he asks, feigned innocence a red flag flicked in front of your eyes.

“Peachy. Why?”

Benny’s hand squeezes yours in a soothing rhythm.

“Hey, don’t bite my head off. Fish mentioned you seemed down. Something about olives?”

The flash of heat rocketing to your face has to be combatted, so you choose comedy.

“Oh yeah, the fact that they never give me enough in my damn drink. Could drive a woman to tears!” Your put-on mid-atlantic accent doesn’t sell it. Benny chews on the inside of his cheek before leaning to bring his mouth to your ear.

“I know you’re gonna tell me to fuck off…”

“Then you don’t have to say anything.”

“...but you and I both know this ain’t about olives.”

You lean back, jaw set and eyes cool.

“You’re right. It’s about absolutely nothing.”

“Hey…”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Benny lets go and you down the rest of your drink. It burns and you hate yourself for it, but it feels good to let liquid frustration carve through the center of you. 

“It’s late, and bar snacks aren’t gonna soak up the hangover I’ll have tomorrow. I’m gonna say bye to Will and Tatiana, get a cheeseburger, and go home.” Benny puts his hands on his hips, blue eyes filled with a brotherly care you know better than to try and tamp down.

“And it’s not about olives?”

Plucking the toothpick full of metaphor out of the glass, you point it at him.

“It’s not about olives.”

Benny relents, and walks you over to the happy couple. Promises of more drinks and a bachelorette party are half shouted before you pick through the crowd and exit the front of the bar. 

The air is just starting to get cool, alcohol thrumming in your blood. You love the way a martini buzz feels, your mind crystal and your body sharp as glass. It’s different from the smoky haze of scotch or the sluggish thudding of beer. Martinis make you diamond.

Which is why you notice Frankie immediately upon his exit, even though you can tell he wanted to go unseen for a few moments longer. He fumbles his hands into his pockets, ambling up to stand beside you while you glare at the Uber app.

“Got a ride coming?” 

“Eventually.”

He nods and stares at the toes of his boots, which you observe surreptitiously. The progress bar keeps filling and emptying as the silence stretches. 

“I’m sorry for shitting on your drink.”

You can’t help but snap your face to him, eyebrows raised.

“I sure hope you didn’t shit on my drink.”

The poor choice of words quirks the corner of your mouth as Frankie tries to recover.

“Jesus Christ, I mean…you know what I mean! I didn’t mean to be a dick,” he says, now contemplating the sky with resignation. There's still a fight in you, but you try to meet halfway.

“S’all good, I shit on your terrible beers all the time. We’re even.” You glance back at the app and shut it out of frustration. You’ll try again in a minute. 

“I don’t hate olives, either,” he rushes out. You roll your eyes, shoulders slumping. God, could they just let this go? You’re embarrassed enough about it. Before you can make another joke, another deflection, he barrels on.

“To be honest, I’ve never tried…olives. I see them all the time - at parties, at the bar, at friend’s houses - and there always seems to be some reason not to try them. I’m always having something else, or just had something, and I don’t want to…I’m afraid if I try the olives, I’ll really like them. And I don’t know what I’ll do if that happens. And that’s been scaring me off from even trying.” 

Frankie looks up at you, mouth parted and brow furrowed, as realization rises slow and fizzy.

“Because I think I could really, really like them. Enough that I’d want them all the time. But I’ve never had anything like that before. And I don’t want to hurt the…olives.”

Your heart is thudding in your ears, lower lip close to a betraying tremble before you force it between your teeth..

“You don’t want to hurt…the olives,” you parrot back and Frankie sighs, lifting his cap enough to rake his fingers through his hair before resettling it. 

“Fuck it, you know what I mean, right? It’s not about…it’s not about the fucking olives,” he says, and one of his hands wraps around your shoulder. It’s hot and strong and your chest swells at the touch.

“If it’s not about the olives,” you say, tentative, voice dropping into a lower register. He’s closer, almost as close as in the bar, thumb worrying back and forth over your shirt. “Then why don’t you show me what it is about?”

You expected more hesitation, but with that permission he lunges for you, cupping your face with both hands as he crashes your lips together. It’s fast and messy, teeth pressed against your lips and his tongue slipping in to taste. He groans and your knees go weak, head spinning worse than any drink could hope to do. You clutch the lapels of his canvas jacket and pull him closer, sweeping strokes of your kiss filling your mouth with bitter hops. With a lurch he pulls back.

“M’sorry,” he mumbles against your lips, but he continues to clutch at you, arm banding around your waist to keep you snug against him. 

“For what?” you tease, sliding your nose along his proud profile. 

“Takin’ so fuckin’ long.” His teeth graze your jaw lightly, heat pooling in a place that’s demanding a more private location for proper penance.

“I think you owe me a lot more than one very good kiss, after everything you’ve put me through,” you contemplate, his grip tightening. 

“Still waiting for your ride?”

Your fingers wander to the nape of his neck, and his curls are just as soft as you imagined.

“No.”

A gentler kiss follows, broader, somehow still able to make your head spin.

“Good, you’re coming home with me so I can properly apologize.”

The next morning as Frankie opens his front door for his breakfast delivery, he finds a pristine jar of olives resting on his welcome mat. The scrawled note - better start getting a taste for these! - is clearly in Benny’s handwriting. The memory of your body, soft and sleeping in his bed, pulls him back inside. 

After everything that got him here, he could learn to like olives.

END

"This is where righteousness ends It’s a relief to wave this overdue white flag and My blind spots have tortured you enough How much salt could I pour in To think that I called myself a friend."

Alanis Morissette, Olive Branch

[nevadancitizen]

-> CH. 5: LIVE FOR A CENTURY, LEARN FOR A CENTURY

synopsis: you get hurt while chasing down another deviant. connor is introduced to your cat.

word count: 3.7k

ships: Connor/Reader, Hank Anderson & Reader

notes: i literally got into the most minor car accident ever (like, not even a fender bender. no one got hurt) and i couldn't sleep because i felt so shitty so that's why i'm posting at this ungodly hour (read: 6:30 am) 😭😭

HoFS taglist: @catladyhere (if you'd like to be added to the taglist, just ask!)

HEAD OF FALSE SECURITY MASTERLIST

The elevator shifts and jolts under your feet as it ascends. You catch yourself and splay a hand out on the wall to keep yourself from falling. 

“Fucking hate this,” you mumble. “Reminds me of the busted-up khrushchyovka I lived in just outside of St. Petersburg.”

“Was it in the ghetto?” Hank asks from the opposite side of the elevator.

“A slum, more like,” you say. “We don’t have ghettos. Not like here.”

You’re surprised Connor didn’t ask anything about the khrushchyovka. Instead, he’s just standing there, his eyes closed and idling.

The elevator dings, and you open the gate, letting you and Hank out. There isn’t a set of footsteps behind you as you walk. 

Hank stops in front of you, looking behind you. You follow Hank’s eyes. Connor’s still idling, his eyes still closed. 

“Hey, Connor!” Hank calls. “You run outta batteries or what?”

Connor’s eyes snap open, then he takes in his surroundings, realizing the elevator ride is over. “I’m sorry. I was making a report to CyberLife.”

“Huh,” Hank hums. Connor continues to idle. 

You smile. “Are you planning on staying in the elevator?”

“No!” He replies, almost indignant. “I’m coming.”

You laugh under your breath and turn to walk down the hall, not missing the look Hank gives you when he hears the emotion in Connor’s voice. 

Hank follows, looking at the chipped paint on the walls and the once-boarded-up windows. “What do we know about this guy?”

“Not much,” Connor says. “Just that a neighbor reported that he heard strange noises coming from this floor. Nobody’s supposed to be living here, but the neighbor said he saw a man hiding an LED under his cap.”

“Oh, Christ,” Hank groans. “If we have to investigate every time someone hears a strange noise, we’re gonna need more cops!”

You come to a stop outside of the door of the suspect’s apartment, double-checking the floor and apartment number. Hank stands beside you, leaning against the doorframe.

“Hey, were you really making a report back there in the elevator?” Hank asks. “Just by closing your eyes?”

“Correct,” Connor says. 

“Shit…” Hank mumbles. “Wish I could do that.”

“You could, if you had augmentations,” you say as you look through the peephole. “Not my kind, though. Mine are relatively unintrusive. What I’m talking about is some extreme jack-jaw or port-wrist shit.”

“Whatever.” Hank huffs.

You pull away from the door and sigh. “The peephole’s blocked.”

Connor takes your place and knocks on the door. “Anybody home?”

No response.

He knocks harder, basically banging his fist against the wood. “Open up! Detroit Police!”

There’s sounds from inside. A banging, something falling, frantic footsteps.

Hank immediately takes a step back, drawing his gun. “Stay behind me.”

You backpedal, and Connor holds out an arm to gauge where you are. It brushes against your midsection, like he’s making sure you’re behind him and safe.

Hank hoists a leg and kicks the door down. He points his gun forward as he slowly moves inside, checking corners and doors. 

Connor follows him, and you trail after. Hank busts through the last door, causing a cascade of pigeons to fly out. 

“What the fuck is this?!” Hank shouts. 

You and Connor move after him, entering the apartment. The rank smell of uncleaned bird shit immediately assaults your senses, causing you to cough despite yourself.

“What in the…?” You look around the apartment. Precisely-drawn mazes cover the walls, and pigeons and their mess covers the floor. They hoo and purr amongst themselves, looking at you, Hank, and Connor like you were the ones who didn’t belong here.

“Looks like we came for nothin’,” Hank calls from the other room. “Our man’s gone.”

“Well, we came all this way,” you say. “Let’s at least have a look around.”

You step closer to the wall, looking up at the maze drawn on it. Your eyes trace it – it’s hexagonal, and doesn’t seem to have any exit.

“Any ideas?” Hank says. 

“No,” you say. “But he’s definitely an android. No human is this precise. There’s not even a wiggle in the lines or any stray marks.”

“I’ve found something,” Connor calls from the bathroom. 

You lean into the doorway. “What, did he leave an expensive shampoo or something? I’m running out.”

“No,” Connor says. He moves to the side, revealing the obsessive writing covering the wall. 

“rA9,” he continues. “Written 2471 times. It’s the same sign Ortiz’s android wrote on the shower wall. Why are they obsessed with this sign…?”

“Could be superstition,” you say. “Even if it seems a bit silly. My mother rejected my father’s proposal just because it was on the eighteenth of May – it’s simply bad luck to do any act of romance on the eighteenth of any month. She accepted the next day, just as the clock hit 12:01 AM.”

“Huh. That’s an odd thing to do.” Connor turns to the sink and picks something up. 

“It’s superstition. Sometimes it doesn’t make sense.” You shrug. “What’ve you got there?”

“An LED,” Connor says. “It was deactivated just hours ago.”

“So the suspect could’ve known we were coming,” you say. “Or knew he fucked up somehow.”

“Officer, you keep referring to androids with gendered pronouns,” Connor says. “You do know androids don’t have sexes, right?”

“I know.” You shrug. “It’s just hard to call something that walks, talks, acts like a human an it. It feels… dehumanizing. Even if they’re not human.”

You level with Connor’s almost-unblinking gaze. “I know what you’re thinking. But I’m not a sympathizer,” you lie.

You pull away from the doorway, instead looking across the apartment again. You join Hank in peering around, half-assedly investigating. A poster catches your eye – one for the United Farms of Detroit. It’s a union of some sort, you think. 

“You Soviets love your unions,” Hank says from somewhere behind you.

“After the Great Purge, we couldn’t take any chances.” You sigh, running a finger along the edge of the poster. “Stalin fucked up a lot of the USSR. But we bounced back. We always do.”

The poster flutters in the wake of your touch, and the corner curls in on itself. You gasp softly as a crack in the wall turns out to be a hole. 

You pull the poster off completely, revealing the hole in the wall in its entirety. A journal sits neatly, nestled right next to a small box of .357 Magnum bullets. You flick it open, and inside, is a myriad of jumbles and mirrors of the mazes drawn on the wall. 

“Found something?” Hank asks. 

“Bullets for a revolver,” you say. “And a journal, but… it’s encrypted.”

You feel a brush against your elbow – soft, but far too solid to be ignored. You gasp and turn, only to see Connor.

“Боже!” You put a hand on your chest. “You scared the shit out of me!”

“I apologize, Officer,” Connor says. “May I see the journal?”

“I, uh… yeah,” you manage to squeak out. You’d take a step back, but your back is basically half a foot away from being flush against the wall.

Connor takes the journal from your hands, flicking through it just as you did. He shows no signs of moving, so you squeeze past him, a nervous hand on his upper arm. 

“Sorry,” you whisper as you move past. You can feel your face warm as your front brushes his side and internally curse yourself for being so easily affected. 

“You’re right,” Connor says. “It doesn’t match any codes I have in my database. This is a unique script.”

He tucks the journal in one of his inner jacket pockets and turns to investigate the apartment further. You watch as his eyes turn to the ceiling. 

“Is that a hole in the ceiling?” You ask. “This place really is falling apart.”

Suddenly, something drops from the hole and sends Connor crashing to the floor. It takes a second to register that it’s a person – or, android, rather. By that time, he’s already run out through the front door. 

Connor immediately books it after the suspect, disappearing around the corner. You immediately take after them despite being slow and human.

“He might have a gun!” You call after Connor.

“It does!” He calls back. 

Sure enough, you can see a revolver in the android’s hand. He points back and takes a blind potshot that misses both of you entirely. 

You count in your mind: five bullets left. 

You run across the roof, through greenhouses and over scaffolding. All the while, you count the gunshots: four – three – two. 

You come to a screeching halt on the edge of a roof, just watching in shock as Connor jumps from a moving train to another roof. “Святое дерьмо!”

“That way!” Hank calls from behind you, out of breath and panting. “The right!”

You break for the scaffolding that connects the two buildings, trying to get ahead. You cut through a building, legs burning as you take the stairs. You burst through the roof exit, and –

Another body immediately collides into yours, and you close your arms around it on instinct. They throw their head back, hitting your nose with a sickening crack. You grunt and your eyes water, but you don’t let go. 

What does make you let go is the shocking, electric feeling of something happening to your leg. Your ears ring and you can’t hear your own scream as you collapse, cradling your calf. 

You can feel your lips forming curses, feel your vocal cords vibrate as you sputter and cry out. A hand comes to your back, warm and rough and one you recognize as Hank’s.

You can just barely hear him say “Hands off, hands off!” and pull your hands away from the entry wound. You can only faintly translate his words in your mind, but you know every word that leaves your lips is Russian. Thirium spills out and Hank desperately tries to keep it in. 

Through your blurred vision, you can see Connor turn the corner. You point after where the deviant went, sputtering “Одна пуля! У него только одна пуля!”

He nods and disappears after him in a blur of moving limbs and blue highlights. 

You try to adjust your position to watch him, but a jolt of pain runs up your leg and into your spine. “Черт – Hank!”

“It’s okay, I got you, kid.” He takes a handkerchief from the inside of his jacket, bunching up your pant leg and tying a makeshift tourniquet. 

Another gunshot rings out, and there’s the sound of a body falling to the ground. You grab Hank’s hand, stammering out “Connor! See Connor!”

He understands your kind-of-broken English and moves to the edge of the roof, looking over the edge. “It’s okay. The deviant killed itself, not Connor.”

You slump down, your back hitting the hard concrete. You sigh and close your eyes. “слава богу.”

Hank kneels by your side and gently jostles your shoulder. “How come you never told me you had a prosthetic?”

You open your eyes and look up at him, slightly delirious from shock. “вы ненавидите андроидов. You hate androids.”

“Yeah, but I don’t hate you,” Hank says. He pats your hand, then stands. “C’mon. Let’s get you up and movin’.”

You sit up and let him move you, supporting you with an arm around your middle. “You’re real fuckin’ stupid sometimes, y’know that?”

“I know, Lieutenant.”

“Officer, please,” Connor says. “I insist that I at least be present while you repair yourself.”

You reach up into the cabinet and push jars of pickling mushrooms and cucumbers aside to find your spare parts. “Connor, I’ll be okay. I was just in shock earlier, and my nose has already been set.”

You pull your toolbox down and start to lay out what you need on the breakfast table. “Besides, I have a cat. She’s somewhere around the apartment. Don’t you like dogs?”

“I can tolerate cats,” Connor says. 

You lay down a towel on the table, then sit and hoist your calf onto the towel. “Well, she probably won’t tolerate you.”

Connor pulls up a chair next to you, eyeing the damage to your leg. He pulls off his blazer and drapes it on the back of the chair, then rolls up his sleeves. “At least let me supervise the repairs.”

“Fine,” you sigh. “Supervise all you want.”

You pick up a soldering iron and switch on the heating component. You gently pry a piece of metal away from your prosthetic, then cut it loose with the iron.

“Your hands are shaking,” Connor says. 

“No, they’re not,” you snap. Then, you pause and realize that he’s right. “I… okay. What do you want me to do about it?”

“Let me do the repairs.” He leans an elbow on the table and leans closer to you. “I’m an android, so you can trust me to be perfectly precise. If I mess up, I promise I’ll let you take over.”

You sigh and hand over the soldering iron. Connor takes it in one hand and steadies your leg with the other. You breathe out slowly, shakily at the touch. 

To his credit, his movements are smooth and precise. All of his concentration is focused on what he’s doing right now. 

After a few minutes, you quietly ask, “Why are you doing this?”

“It would be…” Connor pauses. “Detrimental if you weren’t able to accompany me and Hank on further cases. Less-than-ideal repairs could possibly cause worse damage than what was there initially.”

“Right,” you say softly. 

“May I ask you a question, Officer?” Connor asks, still concentrating. 

“Yeah,” you say. “What is it?”

“You acted like you were in… pain when your prosthetic got shot,” Connor says. “Why was that?”

“Phantom limb phenomenon,” you say. “Everything happened too quickly. My brain remembered what it should be feeling. So it just replayed the… the memory of…”

You look away, out the window. You swallow thickly, suppressing your words. Connor doesn’t need to know this. “Nevermind.”

“The memory of what, Officer?” Connor prompts. 

“Nothing,” you say. “It’s nothing.”

You can see Connor glance at you out of the corner of your eye. He then looks away, instead focusing on the repairs. 

Your eyes catch a flicker of movement in the hallway. It’s a small head and two pointed ears, peeking out of the doorway to your bedroom. Two green eyes, dilated in the low light, blink slowly at you. 

“Бронислава,” you say softly. Her ears perk up in response to hearing her name.

“Bronislava?” Connor parrots. 

You point down the hall. “My cat. She’s shy.”

Connor lifts the soldering iron and looks over his shoulder. As soon as Bronislava registers his eyes on her, she darts back into the room. 

“She’ll come around,” you say. “She was the same way with Hank.”

Connor turns back to your calf. He’s nearly done with the internal work. 

“How are you so good at that?” You ask. “Have you done this before?”

“No,” Connor says. “I just have an intricate knowledge of android parts and biocomponents.”

“That inspires confidence,” you mumble.

Connor huffs out a laugh. “I heard that.”

You lean back in your chair and adjust yourself, your knee knocking against Connor’s. “No, you didn’t.”

You smile to yourself as you replay the sound of Connor’s under-the-breath laugh in your mind. It was nice, even if it only lasted for a second. A weird feeling settles in your chest, like there’s something wrong with your diaphragm. 

“Are you okay, Officer?” Connor asks. “I detect an elevated heart rate and increased rate of breathing.”

“I’m fine,” you lie. “Just excited to get my repairs done, is all. I’ve done this enough times to know you’re almost done with the internals.”

“Hm.” Connor hums, then continues his work. You take the opportunity to take in his bare arms – it’s a rare sight. There really isn’t anything out of the ordinary about his forearms, no scars or blemishes, but you still appreciate it. 

Connor breaks into your line of thought. “May I ask you another question?”

“Yeah?” You say.

“It’s about Lieutenant Anderson,” Connor says. “Why does he hate androids so much?”

You feel your stomach sink. You look away and sigh sharply. “I’m not at liberty to answer that question.”

Connor stays silent this time. You’re kind of thankful for that. 

Bronislava peeks her head out of the doorway again, her eyes on Connor. You smile to yourself as you hear the bell on her collar just barely jingle. “Don’t look now, but Бронислава is looking at you. She’s curious.”

“Why is she curious about me?” Connor asks. 

“I don’t bring a lot of people back to my apartment,” you say. “I try to keep my work life and private life as separate as possible.”

You lean down a little and tap at one of the legs of your chair, then snap your fingers and click your tongue. “Бронислава! Иди сюда, детка.”

She lets out a soft, sort-of meow and rubs her cheek against the doorway. You laugh and coo, snapping your fingers again. “Вот, девочка!”

“Does she only respond to Russian?” Connor asks. 

“Mostly,” you say. “She just responds better than English. Maybe it’s the way my voice changes when I speak Russian.”

You glance over at Connor. “Do you… know Russian?”

“I have a built-in translator,” Connor says. “But I haven’t spoken Russian before.”

“Try,” you say. “Repeat after me: бранислава! Вот, девочка!”

“брани–бранислава,” he tries in a sing-song tone. “Вот, девочка.”

No, he doesn’t roll his r’s or pronounce the words quite right, but it still sparks a bloom of warmth in your chest. You bite the inside of your lip to keep from smiling.

Bronislava peeks further out, her paws on the hardwood floor instead of the carpet of the bedroom she came from. Her bell sounds, soft and tinkling.

“She might like your voice,” you say. 

When you glance at Connor, he’s smiling. Then, you look down at your leg – he’s nearly done sealing the externals. The white plastic is slowly fading away, replaced by a wave of color matching your skin tone. 

“How much longer?” You ask.

“Twenty-seven seconds,” Connor responds.

You sit back and watch Bronislava tentatively sniff the air as Connor finishes up. Her whiskers twitch and her mouth opens as she takes in Connor’s new, intrusive smell.

Connor smoothes his hand over your leg. “I’m done.”

You shiver slightly at the contact and pull your leg away, instead drawing your knee to your chest and resting your foot on the chair. You take the towel and wipe your leg of spilled Thirium, then hand it to Connor so he can wipe his hands.

“Look at бранислава,” you say softly. “But don’t make it obvious.”

Connor slowly cranes his neck, looking down the hallway out of the corner of his eye. His face lights up a little when Brotislava comes into his view.

“Ah,” he says. “I see her.”

As soon as Bronislava sees that Connor’s eyes are on her again, she retreats back to the safety of the bedroom. 

“Damn,” you huff. You stand, trying out Connor’s repair. You lean a little on it and put weight on it – it holds. 

You put a hand on Connor’s blazer. “Can I take this? To introduce her to your scent.”

“Go ahead,” Connor says.

You take his blazer and retreat to your bedroom. You find Bronislava under your bed, her eyes so dilated you can’t see her irises. 

“Эй, красотка,” you say softly. You snap your fingers with your free hand. “Это всего лишь я.”

She slowly creeps forward, sniffing the air. She smells the blazer in your hand, which is surprisingly soft despite its stiffness. (You’re tempted to mirror her and smell it, but you immediately mentally slap yourself and call yourself a creep, even though the thought didn’t actualize.)

“Видите? Все в порядке,” you say, still with that quiet, docile tone. “Это просто Connor.”

Bronislava slowly crawls out from underneath your bed, inching towards the exit to the hallway. You follow her, staying on her level.

“Connor!” You whisper-shout once you’re in the hallway, Bronislava by your side. “She’s coming towards you. But don’t look at her.”

“Okay, Officer,” Connor says. Even though he’s facing away from you, you can hear the smile in his voice. “What will she do?”

“She’ll probably sniff you,” you say, watching as she inches along, sticking close to the baseboards. “Don’t move a muscle once she does.”

Bronislava glances back at you. “Давай, детка!” You encourage. She turns around and looks at Connor’s back, then continues crawling forward.

“She’s approaching your six,” you say, your tone faux-serious. “Contact imminent.”

Connor laughs. “Acknowledged.”

Bronislava nervously sniffs at the legs of Connor’s chair, then moves on and sniffs at his ankles. 

“Her whiskers are tickling me,” Connor says. 

“Just don’t move!” You laugh.

Bronislava continues exploring, if with a bit of nervousness. She sniffs at the hem of Connor’s jeans, then bites at a loose string.

Then, Connor moves a fraction of an inch. It sets Bronislava off, and she dashes past you and back into the bedroom. 

You lean in the doorway, watching as she disappears under the bed again. “О, мой бедный малыш… Все в порядке.”

“I’m sorry,” Connor says. “I was just trying to scan her…”

“It’s okay.” You stand, his blazer still in hand. “She usually just hides around new people. I’m proud of her. And she does seem to like you.”

“She likes me?” Connor says, a bit of excitement in his tone. 

“You sound like a teenager.” You laugh and stand up. You walk over to the table and drape Connor’s blazer over the back of his chair. “Thanks for letting me borrow that, by the way.”

“Of course,” Connor says. 

You move to the side and start to pack your spare parts away in your little toolbox, mentally noting the things you need to replace.

“One more thing,” Connor says. “Why didn’t you tell me you had a prosthetic?”

Your hands still. “It…” you sigh. “I don’t like talking about it. That’s it. It didn’t pertain to the investigation, and you didn’t ask about it, so I didn’t mention it.”

Connor’s LED flickers yellow, then returns to a calm blue. “Understood.”

[poggersbathwater]

vivziepop: this show is about criticising Christianity"

proceeds to: woobify sinners and make them overlords as a reward,for some reason all or most sinners (cannibals, rapists,murderers....etc) are queer,villainized Adam the first human (had nothing to do with Christianity at the time he got created and it's not his fault that god made him for a woman and just wanted peaceful life with her) who lost two women because of lucifer,made lucifer the good innocent guy (let's ignore that he is the main reason why humanity is suffering), "7 DEADLY SINS ARE GOOD FOR YOU ACTUALLY! LUST IS ABOUT CONSENT AND GLUTTONY ARE ABOUT SELF CONTROL,EXCEPT FOR GREED CAUSE THERE'S NO SUCH A THING AS A GOOD GREED CAUSE FUCK RICH!....btw please buy my Valentino cups! (I Wonder why 7 sins are deadly in a first place if they're caring and healthy according to viv)" "Wait.....are you telling me that stolas is a wise high ranking demon who give knowledge to those who summon him? Nonsense! Stolas is a horny softie who needs his imp slave to protect him! Screw accuracy! And you know what? I am making the rest of ars goetia and turn them into birds and had nothing to do with their demonology because I just need to use their names to make more characters"

(Yeah sorry about stolas accuracy part,it's just that I am tired of "not everything should be accurate" argument,that's like making thoth a Egyptian god of wisdom into a weak softie hypocrite character who is obsessed with sex and have nothing to do with his wisdom and knowledge,actually there's a lot of interesting things about thoth that makes him respected amongst gods and if viv wrote him he would be nothing but a joke character that have no personality outside of sex and victimhood mentally)

Alright lightning round here

Woobifying (idk what that means but i imagine it means glorification) sinners: I think the overlords are there to run businesses and industries in Hell, not to reward them exactly- but I do see the point you're making. The worse they are, the more power they have, which doesn't look too good for Hell's case.

Having most of the sinners be queer: Yeah I.. also get this one. It's weird how no fascists or.. well, generally bigoted people are there, but all the characters that ARE there happen to be queer. And I'm not saying queer people can't be bad, they can, but when there's more queer people than bigots in a place that's supposed to have the bad people... yeahhhhh no

Villainizing Adam: Yeah I hate how they turn Adam into a righteous douche- though it could make sense, since he did eat the fruit too (it probably changed his behavior a lot), turning him into a righteous douche who's bitter he lost his wife was.. kinda messed up.

The characterization of the sins: YEAH ACTUALLY THIS ONE SUCKS !! The whole point of Gluttony is that you just keep indulging without a care- the whole point of lust is that it's forced and it hurts people- if it wasn't about force, it'd be called love. Because consent is love. Force and betrayal (cheating/infidelity) is lust. The sins being characterized as good people takes away from why they are sins.

Stolas: Okay I don't know much about demon stuff, so I'll leave that alone (the ars goetia isn't talked about in Christianity so that's why I can't answer it), but I will say that stolas being the victim all the time is fucking ass. Yes, stolas has been forced into an arranged marriage. That sucks, it does. But that doesn't excuse any of his actions towards Blitzo, or his emotional unavailability towards Via.

I've never gotten this many asks Holy shit

[smytherines]

Tumblr won't let me post this from my drafts, but @uhhhitsme this is me responding to what you wrote yesterday!

I think that's right though. This is a long distance relationship. They live an ocean apart, they only get to see each other when their countries deem it necessary to work together. They have to have their entire relationship in secret because it is illegal. And probably treason because they work for two different countries. It is super turbo illegal.

I mean, long distance couples who don't have all those additional issues, who can call or video chat or whatever every day if they choose to, who have support networks there for them to lean on, (who aren't gay spies in the 1950s), most of the time they still don't make it because the distance is just too much to overcome. But Curt and Owen made it work. Even if it was messy and they were both assholes and nothing about it was rational. They made it work.

We don't know how long Curt and Owen were together before the fall, but I'm guessing it was at least a couple of years? They work incredibly well together, they're bantering and giving these goofy lovesick grins to each other (they make me sick)

Even when they bicker it feels like an old married couple. And it has to be that way for the show to make sense. We get less than ten minutes to establish their relationship, and this little section of the show is what gives the staircase scene true dramatic weight. Because there is so much fucking chemistry in that first ten minutes, such a sense of intimacy between them, that when Curt says "the feelings we had" the audience is already there. We don't need to be convinced (especially queer viewers who clocked this shit right away) because yeah of course these two were together.

They were able to keep this thing going off of maybe a couple of days together every few months? Days where they were mostly risking their lives and killing people and getting shot/stabbed/tortured and then hooking up in a hotel room or safe house or whatever.

One thing I think about a lot is if they were able to be that close to each other, function that well together, be so fucking familiar and warm with each other with just those little scraps of time together, I can't even imagine what they'd be like if they actually had time to just be together. Time to learn to be in a relationship. There's a line from Black Box that goes like "a real relationship- the kind of thing with a permanent address," and that's what Curt and Owen never got to have, and its the kind of thing you have to learn, you have to practice.

That's tough though, because I also think Curt's inherent restlessness would make it very difficult for him to settle down into a comfortable quiet life away from everything. I think he's the kind of guy who theoretically wants the comfort and happiness of a happy little domestic situation, wants to be loved and wanted, but it would be torture for him to have to stay in the same place for very long. At least as a younger man. He wants the idea of it. He wants it emotionally, but couldn't handle it practically. What he truly wants is for he and Owen to eternally live out their glory days together as the world's greatest spies- constant adrenaline and pressure and excitement.

This is pure headcanon, but I picture Owen as the kind of guy who has never wanted any of that. Home is where he keeps his shit in between missions. He doesn't want a happy little domestic life, he wants to do the job he's good at until he dies. Until he meets Curt. Then he starts wanting all sorts of things he knows he can never have. He wants to keep Curt safe, wants to know that they'll be able to see each other whenever they want, they'd have control of their own lives instead of being controlled by their agencies. He wants to stop having to work so hard and think so much and constantly constantly plan for the worst.

So it's difficult to say, but in my heart I do think that if they had more time, both in the pre-fall relationship and, y'know, Curt not putting a bullet in Owen's head, I think they could have figured it out. I think if they were able to sustain the feelings they had for so long on so little actual contact, then it would be difficult and painful and even more messy than before, but eventually they could move on to something better.

I think they loved each other enough to try, but after everything they had each been through in their four years apart, after the ways they had hurt each other and broken each other's trust, they just... couldn't see that in the moment. Which is pretty tragic to me.

[shatcey]

Liam's route

Originally I read Liam's route on JP server around 6 month ago and now that I read it on EN server, it feel really different. The quality of the translation is essential indeed.

I'm going to talk about Liam's oddities, some other characters, and even the plot (how dare me), so if you haven't played his route yet, the next part will be a spoiler for you.

So… what I didn't notice when I read this route on JP:

Liam has no sense of taste. I remember he had trouble sleeping, but this… For some reason, I didn't understand that after reading the scene where he drank Harrison's tea with salt instead of sugar, and didn't realize it. And this is Harrison we're talking about, who eats almost nothing but sugar, so he definitely had a lot of salt in the tea.

Liam is very bad at lying and keeping secrets. No wonder Harrison is looking out for him… He is like a child and needs protection.

Actually it feels like everyone at the Crown is looking out for him in one way or another. They keep company, entertain, treat with unusual food, walk on the roof, show illusions, use experimental drugs and treat… or just worried in Elbert's case. No wonder Will calls him a pet… he's everyone's favorite.

I completely misunderstood his desire to please people. I thought he wanted them to like him the way Charles does, and that's true, but it's like the cherry on the top. The main reason is much more twisted.

He's convinced that his existence makes others suffer and causes them pain… so in order to somehow weaken this effect, he does what they want, what they ask of him. It's a bit remind of Ellis… just a bit.

Liam is suicidal. He literally wants to disappear from this world. I felt it, but I don't remember it being said so bluntly. This's just the result of the previous statement. The mind does do bizarre things to people.

I was sure that his daddy wasn't his daddy. Like his mother had a lover before she got married and… here we are. That's why this "daddy" hates him so much. Or maybe Silvio somehow popped up in my mind when I was reading this route…

No, I was right! They have the same eye colour, it makes me doubt for a moment.

Tom is actually old. What? That was a big shock for me. I thought he's like... Victor's age or something...

Or maybe he just calls himself that… hmmm… I need more proof to be sure.

And lastly... I completely forgot how many Alfons were in Liam's route… Well, Liam was my first on JP server (yeah, I said it), and I didn't like any of the guys at the time, so it's no wonder I don't remember much. But still...

I'll probably make a separate post about it…

I still haven't finished reading this route (last chapter left). So maybe I'll add something later...

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🔝 Start page 🔝

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[anifever]

can you pls do an outsiders x Nerdy fem reader? Like, braces boy band fangirl who rants about comics type. Would rather have it being Curtis sister reader but you can do whatever, tyy <33

Gang w/ a Nerdy!Reader ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The Outsiders x Fem!Reader

୨୧ : The Curtis gang with a nerdy reader

A/N : This is kinda bad bcs I get unmotivated to write sometimes but I swear I’m trying omg. Also I didn’t do Curtis sister simply so it’d be more ambiguous, sorry 💔 Anyways this is literally me except I just don’t have braces anymore

˖⁺‧₊˚ 👓 ˚₊‧⁺˖

Darry

୨ You cut pics of The Rolling Stones members, etc out of the newspapers he reads and keep them

୨ He’s confused at first then he’s like “Oh..” when he realizes what’s happening- he doesn’t mind tho

୨ You write the dumbest little notes/pickup lines and put them in his lunch bag for work

୨ He doesn’t understand most of them but he likes them regardless

୨ He read comics here and there when he was a kid, but he definitely doesn’t anymore 😭

୨ He’s always arguing with Pony about those things and just doesn’t really get it

୨ Even though he doesn’t understand yours and Pony’s infatuation with stuff like that, he thinks it’s nice you’re able to bond with each other over it

୨ At some point you convince him to watch one of your favorite sci-fi type tv shows with you whenever he isn’t busy

୨ It’s a pipeline of him saying he doesn’t like it, pretending he doesn’t like it, then being really invested in it

୨ Anyways, even if your interests don’t exactly line up, you still love each other

୨ You rambling over stuff all the time honestly helps him forget about the stress in his life

Two-Bit

୨ He has no room to talk when his favorite show is still Mickey Mouse at the age of 18 and a half

୨ He thinks it’s cute in an endearing way

୨ He makes fun of you a bit but he doesn’t mean it seriously- that’s just how he is

୨ You guys discuss superheroes together and get way too in depth about it

୨ When he sees your room for the first time there’s like little figurines everywhere, etc and he’s just like “Huh, I have that one too” while pointing at the Hulk or something

୨ He doesn’t gaf, at least it’s clean unlike his

୨ If you have braces, he’s absolutely making jokes about it

୨ You’re getting called metal mouth but it’s out of love I promise

୨ He doesn’t let other people make jokes about it though

୨ Like that’s his job!!! Leave his girl alone!!!

୨ This man defends you with his life I’m so serious

୨ Anyways, whenever he gets super drunk and he starts rambling the exact same way you do normally so it sort of evens you out

୨ Idk what else to even say because you both just make so much sense- it seems so obvious

Steve

୨ I hate to say it, but he calls you brace-face

୨ Ironic because he needs some himself!!! 😊

୨ You said something along those lines to him once and he was so caught off guard and offended

୨ Even though he’s a smartass and you’d figure he’d be mean abt it, I feel like he’s probably kinda the same as you- at least when he was younger

୨ Bro knows his DC and Marvel lore

୨ You guys are constantly re-watching ‘Godzilla’ together

୨ There’s probably a picture of him from when he was younger dressed as it for Halloween or something too

୨ You have made him go to a concert with you

୨ He didn’t even really care about you freaking out over the guys, he was more upset that you chose The Beach Boys of all people

୨ He considers it “Soc music”

୨ You most likely don’t understand anything about cars

୨ He could sit there for hours trying to explain stuff to you and it just won’t click

୨ He’s like “How can you remember every fucking Beach Boys song but not what an exhaust does??”

୨ Okay you probably aren’t that dense but still

Dallas

୨ Yeahhh, he’s making fun of you

୨ It’s out of love tho 😇 most of the time..

୨ You constantly make references about comics and shows and he has no clue what you’re talking about

୨ You use the word kryptonite around him and he’s like “..What the HELL did you just say to me?”

୨ Most of the things you ramble about, he doesn’t understand, like, at all

୨ Much to his dismay, he can’t help his features from softening when he watches you do it

୨ You definitely gives him a break from all the reckless crazy stuff he does

୨ You use so many big words (they usually aren’t that crazy) and he’s just like “Could you speak English?”

୨ When he first went inside your room, it was covered in posters from movies like ‘Dracula,’ ‘Creature from the Black Lagoon,’ ‘Psycho,’ ‘Frankenstein,’ ‘The Birds,’ etc

୨ At first he was like “Jesus…” but really he thought it was pretty cool

୨ You guys are horror movie enjoyers⁉️

୨ You’re probably more of a geek over them than he is, but it’s just barely (he’d never admit it)

Soda

୨ You definitely fangirl over The Beatles and it lowkey hurts his feelings

୨ You have to be like “Soda.. you literally look like a movie star why are you worried-”

୨ Yes you know Paul’s blood type, time of birth, and who his fourth cousin twice removed is; so what? 🙄

୨ Knowledge-wise you balance each other out

୨ You have amazing grades in all your classes and he’s dropped out 🤍 but on the other hand, you are not very street smart

୨ Like if you have a gun held to your head, let’s hope they’ll ask you trivia about ‘The Twilight Zone’ for your freedom

୨ Anyways, he tries to keep up with and understand the stuff you talk about

୨ Give him time 💔 he’s trying

୨ He probably already knows a bit from having grown up with Pony, but it’s still nothing crazy

୨ He carries around extra wax for your braces in his pocket in case they ever start hurting you (idk if they were invented yet in the 60’s but let’s pretend)

୨ Throws wrenches and things like that at Steve if he says stuff about you

୨ You get pretty insecure since he’s so popular with girls and they usually aren’t like you; but he’s always reassuring you over it

Johnny

୨ You guys read comics together

୨ He’s a spider-man lover and I’ll die on this hill

୨ Someone write Johnny Cade spider-man au rn

୨ He’s constantly telling Dallas to “lay off” when he says stuff about you

୨ Finds your braces cute- he thinks they just add to your charm

୨ Anything that helps him somewhat escape reality, he enjoys; he gladly talks about nerdy stuff with you

୨ He gets along with Pony so well and he has most of those interests, and it’s the same way with you

୨ You guys sit in the lot and stargaze constantly; each time you point out and name the constellations along with explaining their backstories

୨ He listens with a fond smile on his face every time

୨ He thinks it’s cool you’re able to remember all of that

୨ You’re both just so cute I’m crying

୨ Whenever he comes over, he always admires the figures, posters, books, etc you have around your room

Pony

୨ Idc his ass is also a nerd

୨ Maybe not in the exact ways you are, but he definitely still is

୨ You help him in certain classes he’s not doing well in which he is extremely thankful for

୨ You guys also read comics together 😋

୨ Usually you make him read them out loud though since you love his voice and also think he’s good at the sound effects

୨ That being said, you both give each other book recommendations

୨ You guys go to the drive-in/theater together constantly and have heavy debriefings over all of the movies (mainly the sci-fi ones)

୨ You guys are both big fans of Elvis

୨ He’s a fan music-wise, you’re a fan of literally everything

୨ You’ve seen every single one of his movies. Multiple times.

୨ Definitely makes him a little jealous but he tells himself it’s not a big deal

୨ He can’t even be mad at you geeking out when he preforms on TV, he understands

୨ All that being said, you guys actually go really well together