#I managed to stick with them to the end on my second go 'round

[kurapikaspookie]

⋆˚࿔ Somethin’ Stupid | x ness  𝜗𝜚˚⋆

୨ৎ obsessed!ness x reader fic, 1.1k word/20k words, ongoing.

𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆🌷͙⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ

A boy with big cheeks and a sheepish smile seems to be bent on making you work harder than you should.

 

It’s been hours under the harsh, German sun, hours running laps with him by your side, always keeping up, even though you’re a fast paced runner. He cheers you on, tells you there’s ‘only one more drill!’ although one always turns into two, and then into another round of hurried breaths because Ness can’t count. The two-hour session is over. Has been, technically.

 

Training to be a midfielder was not for the weak. Your father – Noel Noa – decided he needed to hone your skills. Apparently, he had ‘hired a professional footballer’ with ‘years of experience’, someone he knew personally. Of course, you had never expected the professional footballer to be a boy your age, not even taller than you, with bright eyes and an easy-going smile.

 

That same boy was standing in front of you, still managing to stay upright, even after the long lap the two of you completed. But you didn’t miss the way sweat made his hair stick to his forehead. Didn’t miss the way his chest was subtly rising and falling, hinting at his own fatigue.

 

“Good run, right?” Ness huffed, hands on his hips, his eyes wide and bearing into yours. “What next? Should we home your aim? That cross was a little off-“

 

You blink. “We’re… still doing this?”

 

“You said you wanted to improve,” he says, too sweet. “And I’m still technically on the clock.”

 

Except he’s not. His session ended fifteen minutes ago. And you’re pretty sure you saw him glance at his phone right before ignoring it.

 

“Wait, ‘m tired…” you groaned, stretching your arms behind your back. “Isn’t two hours enough? We’ve passed the time already…”

 

Ness’ eyes widen, as if he hadn’t realized how much time had passed. His hands immedeately sprung up, a light blush appearing on his cheeks, as if he’d just been caught in a heinous act. “Ah, sorry! Time really does fly by… I lost track of the time!”

 

This is the third time this week he’s “lost track of the time.”

 

You nod, smiling at him, still grateful somewhat. You said you wanted to push yourself today. “Don’t apologise, was just exhausted, that’s all.” You pause for a second, recalling his words, your eyebrows raising. “Hey, you said my pass was a little ott, right? I can’t leave without correcting something like <em> that </em>.”

 

Ness nodded, the sparkle returning to his eyes. He picked a ball up off the hard floor, throwing it up and down twice, eyes still intense on you. “Well, it was really just your form. You were leaning back, see? That would to an overfit, not ideal for your strikers. You wanna open up your hips and torso so you can see both the ball and your targets.”

 

Ness dropped the ball in front of you, before walking over behind you, the ball rolling in front of your feet, at a slight angle.

 

Ness clears his throat. “Is it okay if I-“

 

You nod, looking over to the side, catching a glimpse of his sweet, innocent, awkward smile.

 

“I don’t mind.” You respond, facing front again. You feel Ness’ hands on you, his breathing seemingly heavier. He seems close, his chin almost above your shoulder, his chest brushing against your back. His hands slide down to your hips as he angles them.

 

“So… uh… try and engage your core.” Ness’ voice is a quiet, calm and level like it always has been, contrasting his loud breaths.

 

Ness places a hand on your shoulder, pushing them down. “Normally, when I deliver cross paths, all I can think about is how cool I’ll look…” Ness’ voice trailed off, as if he said something he wasn’t meant to.

 

“Really?” You chuckle softly. “That’s the best advice I’ve heard in a while, honestly.”

 

Ness laughs as well, still slightly adjusting your posture, his touch soft and careful. He guides your body to the right position, concentration reflecting in the tense air. His hair smells nice, you realize. A soft, vanilla scent,, something you know you would grow to associate with him.

 

You nod, but it’s hard to focus with the way his breath ghosts over the back of your neck.

 

You clear your throat. “You always get this handsy when you train people?”

 

He startles, pulling back just slightly, cheeks instantly pink.

 

“I—uh—I’m sorry. It’s just the fastest way to correct posture, I didn’t mean to—”

 

“No, it’s fine.”

 

(You shouldn’t like how warm his hand felt. You do.)

 

Ness watches you try again, serious now, nodding as you follow his instruction. And when you finally get the angle right, when the ball arcs cleanly, smoothly… he beams, clapping his hands once with genuine excitement.

 

“That was it!” he says. “That’s exactly what I was trying to show you—see, I knew you’d get it!”

 

You’re flushed from the heat, but something else stirs in your chest. The way he looks at you, like you just won a match, like you’re the only person on the pitch, it’s… a lot.

 

“So…” Ness starts. “Time goes really fast during these lessons, doesn’t it?”

 

You nod, trying to gauge where he was going with this. “Sure does.” You mutter sarcastically, because no, time - in fact - did not go fast. “Why?”

 

Ness chuckled again, rubbing the back of his neck. “I should… I should give you a gift or something. Because of the extra time. Sorry about that.”

 

Ness gave you a wide, turtle smile, to which you nodded, your heart melting ever so slightly. “Do you want to… I don’t know… go out today? To a restaurant or something. My treat.”

 

You chuckled, giving him a small nod. “Yeah, sure. I can never turn down free food.”

 

__

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(A/N: small draft to make sure I’m on the right track! I am so snowed down with exams and results and my own personal book, so I will probably finish this during summer, expect like 20k words or so! Comments are SO motivating and appreciated!)

[kaxtwenty]

Getting hurt was never a waste

[g1rld1ary]

well kept secret 2 - spencer reid x hotch's daughter!reader

prev

wc: 1479

cw: none!

me: i love writing dialogue!!!!!!!!! also i did get a request for a diff hotchs daughter fic but id already written half of this so anon i have seen it!! also also i just finished my first week back at uni and i already have so many more readings than last yr so my writing may become a bit slower for the foreseeable sorry!!

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

You hadn’t seen your father for weeks. Both of you had been slammed with work and Hotch had been on a few particularly long cases that had kept him out of Quantico.

However, you weren’t one to waste time. You’d only learnt Hotch was your father as you went into college, your mother’s well-kept college fling exposed as you grew into adulthood. It was you who took the risk in reaching out, genetically curious. Thankfully Hotch was open to the relationship, and the two of you had been making a concerted effort to make up for all your lost time.

That brought you to the FBI offices after Hotch had messaged you that his case had wrapped up at an appropriate time of day, for once.

“Hi, Sweetheart. I just have to fill out this paperwork but I’ll be quick. You can sit in my office if you like or go get yourself a coffee from the break room.” Hotch gave you a quick side-hug, a big show of affection for him, and you nodded easily.

“It’s all good, I’m gonna go annoy your inferiors,” You laughed, skipping out of Hotch’s office and down to the bullpen.

“Hey, little Hotch, you’re back!” Morgan grinned as he saw you, shaking your hand with probably unearned familiarity.

“Are you hanging around for long? Gotta wait for my Dad to finish work before we can have dinner,” You exaggerated your rolling eyes to emphasise the humour in your tone and Derek responded accordingly.

“Good dads, am I right? Sorry, little Hotch, but I’ve got a woman to make dinner up to, I can’t stick around tonight.” You pretended to be annoyed as you made your rounds to the rest of the agents that you’d met, but everyone was lost in their own little world, rushing to get home to their loved ones.

Not that you could blame them, you were sure if you had to be away risking your life so often you’d behave exactly the same. Fortunately or unfortunately, you weren’t in that position and were getting bored. That was, until your eyes locked on the only agent still sitting behind a desk.

“Doctor Reid, right?” You confirmed as you approached him, not not enjoying the way he seemed to become flustered under your gaze.

“Yeah,” He stuttered, “But you can call me Spencer. If you want. Or not, of course.”

“Alright, Spencer.” You grinned, “So why are you so eager to sit behind the desk? Everyone else basically hit the ground running.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Spencer trained his eyes on the file ahead of him, spinning a pen rapidly between his nimble fingers, “Nowhere to rush to, I guess.”

“So you’re single?” You raised an eyebrow with a sly smile, “No girl waiting for you at home?” Spencer almost jumped out of his skin at the word, but managed to shake his head in a way that was almost calm.

“So, um, what do you do?” He changed the subject hastily but you were ready for him.

“You tell me, you’re the profiler, aren’t you?” You were teasing him, challenging him even, but Spencer was good with challenges.

“Clearly you’re in office work of some sort. I assume not necessarily very high up since you said Hotch bought your high-end heels but nothing else you’re wearing is nearly as expensive. Your nails are brightly coloured and have those… charms on them, which tells me you work in something creative, where professionalism has different standards. You’re well spoken and were confident even when faced with the group of us last time, so you probably have to public speak or do client relations. My guess is marketing?”

You stood for a second, amazed by the acute observations Spencer had made within your first conversation.

“I guess they don’t call you Boy Genius for nothing, then. I’m in graphic design, usually marketing campaigns.” Spencer brightened at the praise and confirmation of his brilliance.

“It’s just my job. Any of us would have told you all the same things.”

“Genius and humble? No wonder the FBI is so fond of you,” You teased, leaning against the edge of Spencer’s desk. He laughed shyly, clearly unsure of what to do with himself.

“That and the fact I have an IQ of 187 and an eidetic memory.” Your eyebrows raised as he hit you with what you interpreted as a joke. Cute, smart and funny, what more could a guy offer?

“Wow, you really are the secret weapon around here, huh? Don’t worry, I won’t tell the bad guys.” You winked with a smile, enjoying the way a rosy blush developed over Spencer’s cheeks. “And all of that by what? Thirty?”

“Twenty seven,” He shot back quickly, “I don’t look that old, do I?”

“Not at all,” You grinned, “I think older men are hot.”

“I don’t think twenty-four and twenty-seven is much of an age gap,” Spencer mused as you blinked owlishly at him, completely missing the implications of his statement.

“How’d you know that? You’re not a genius and a mind-reader, are you?”

“I did some digging,” Penelope admitted sheepishly as she crossed the bullpen with her handbag, clearly on the way out. You glanced at Spencer with an expression you hoped was saying ‘who is this woman and how can she do that?’ to find he was already looking at you, amused smile on his own face.

“If you keep hanging around here you’ll get used to her eventually, we all did.”

“I love her. She’s like if my twelve year old self had adult money.” Spencer laughed at that, loud and bright in the otherwise silent bullpen. You smiled at the sound, silence falling between you both. It was somewhere in the middle of nice and slightly weird. You’d only just met but you knew Spencer was someone you wanted to get to know, he fascinated you in every way. And he was fun to talk to, especially as he got comfortable around you. You assumed it was the genius intellect that helped with his quick wit.

“So, is my Dad a good boss?” You broke the silence with a cheeky grin, testing the boundaries.

“Stop tormenting my agent, honey.” Hotch’s rich timbre popped up behind you and your shoulders tensed in surprise. You’d been caught. You turned to face your father with a coy smile, giggle barely contained.

“It was just a question! Don’t quash a young girl’s curiosity,” You played innocent, knowing good and well that Hotch was too smart for the ploy.

“Maybe save your questions for when Reid isn’t wanting to get home for his weekend?” He raised one thick eyebrow, but you could see the amusement behind his typically serious expression.

“I’m very sorry, Doctor Reid, thank you for taking the time to babysit your boss’ daughter.”

Spencer looked like a deer in headlights. What was the procedure? Hotch was standing right there, yet he was pretty sure (and it took a lot for him to even suggest the notion) that you were flirting with him. How was he supposed to handle that?

“I, it was no trouble at all, really. Happy with babysitting duties, sir,” Reid stammered out, the twisting of his features making clear he knew he was making a fool of himself. Hotch, always having had a soft spot for the doctor, let it slide.

“Make sure you don’t stay here all night, Reid.” Hotch started for the elevators and you hopped along at his heels happily.

“Hope I’ll see you soon, Doctor Reid.” You turned back to face him with a grin, delighting in the way he jumped slightly, only able to offer the single most awkward thumbs up and wave combination you’d ever seen.

As the glass doors closed behind you, you could have sworn you heard a squeaky, “It’s Spencer!”

You stood next to Hotch in the descending elevator, giddy smile playing on your lips. If Hotch noticed he didn’t say anything, not that you thought he would. He was definitely not the type of dad to start gossiping about boys.

You were in his passenger seat on the drive to your dinner plans when he finally turned the subject back to his coworkers.

“Just don’t start coming into my work because you like my coworkers more than me, okay? I’d never hear the end of it, especially from Morgan.”

“Who, me? I would never,” You teased, changing the radio station to something more pop-y, “Besides, it wouldn’t be Morgan I’d be visiting.”

next

[urbeachboy]

O1 — World’s Best Detective ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

⋆˙⟡ — synopsis : you take up a co-worker’s shift, nearly get stabbed, and Red Robin’s losing his flair.

⋆˙⟡ — content : gn reader, violence, mugging, threatening, attempts at sexual assault, alcohol, knives, someone’s wrist is broken and depicted a bit vividly, i attempt (miserably so) to write accents, gotham. . .

Gotham is a hell-hole.

It isn’t like you weren’t aware of it, for you were, and anyone else (especially your family members) was also aware of it. And they’d tried to warn you, they always tried to warn you. Warn you of the supervillains that invoke a sense of incredulity (seriously- what’s a ‘condiment king’?), and superheroes who surpass them in that very field.

But it was cheap, and it was - well.. sufficient. Though there’s cobwebs in the corners of your apartment, it’s.. sufficient. You’ll clean it up- you’ll manage- it’ll suffice. As a matter of fact, the mess and the grime and the several health code violations isn’t quite the biggest issue, which says a ton.

It’s the crime rates. You’ve gotten past getting mugged five times, kidnapped two and assaulted six. It’s almost impressive, considering it has been no more than a fortnight and you almost always stick to a crowd, and refrain from going out past 12. Goodness, it’s like you’re a teenager all over again.

Thankfully, you’ve avoided danger almost completely so far. There’s no reason you would’ve gotten caught in the spider’s web- you’re a fly that sticks to its business. You get up at seven in the morning, eat the fastest breakfast you can, go to your classes (you're in Gotham Uni; the only reason you’re here), work your part-time at the local coffee shop, go home as quick as you can after clocking out, collapse in your bed, repeat. Bathing is fitted in there somewhere, too.

See, yesterday, one of your co-workers, Elise, had asked for you to take over her shift.

She’d approached you yesterday afternoon when you were wiping a bead of sweat away from your forehead (Gotham was especially humid in summer- figures, with it being New Jersey and all). She had sauntered up to you with all the suaveness of a siamese cat, with her dark hair done into a high ponytail.

Elise called out to you when she was barely a few feet away, a smile gracing her lips. “Could you do a favour for me, please?”

You quirked an eyebrow, but just before you could have parted your lips to ask, she was quick to speak over you. “You know, I’m asking you this because you’re like, the nicest person here. Honestly, you’re the only one I can talk to, haha! I know you’ll understand.”

You weren't gonna understand. Not when it's Elise--she's somewhat infamous round the workplace for her... behaviour.

Then, you were tempted to respond with a sharp ‘what do you want, Elise?’ and that’s just what you went to do until, despite yourself, you change it up last-second. “What is it?” you end up saying, and it sounds much more polite than you’d have liked it to sound. Your reputation precedes you, you think.

“Well,” she leaned back against the counter. There weren’t many customers then, most people were at work or school, so you had a little moment of respite. “It’s my sister’s wedding tomorrow,” you don’t recall her ever mentioning a sister before, “and I was thinking maybe you could take my shift for me?” Tough luck. “Just for tomorrow, I promise. I won’t bother you about anything after that.”

It’s a horribly difficult decision to make (note the sarcasm), but with great effort, you open your mouth to deny her request when she cuts you off. Again. “I knew you would, sweetie! Thanks!” And she’s gone.

So you had taken her shift- it’d be a one-time thing. It’d be fine.

Though, unexpectedly, it'd been especially busy today and you seemed to have completely zoned out while making coffee after coffee that, when all the customers are satisfied and have left, you drag your weary eyes up to the window and see darkness. You do a double-take-- still darkness.

You’re late.

It’s 12:30, you see it when you glance at the quaint clock on the pastel-coloured wall. It’s 12:30, and, looking out the window once more, it’s sans any life. You can hear a few strays howling, but that’s about it.

You may have called yourself paranoid in any other situation, but right now? In Gotham? You’re not taking those chances. You weren’t taking those chances, you had been avoiding those chances like the Black Plague but now the chances are shoved into your open palms very so generously.

Yes, there are vigilantes, a plethora of them- but you’re not sure if you trust your well-being in the hands of these mysterious masked individuals who go by strange aliases. Red Hood? Seriously? Maybe he’ll have a dainty little basket, too, on his dainty little self. Maybe he’ll give you a loaf of bread and a pot of butter or whatever it is that Little Red Riding Hood was taking to her grandma if you ask nice enough.

So, your distrust towards vigilantes aside, now you’re in a dilemma- you’re certainly not staying the night at the café, it’ll get you fired for sure. And even if it doesn’t, what would you tell them? That you were far too chicken to walk home because it’s past 12:00? They’re locals, lived here for years. You’re clearly not.

In the end, after a few more minutes of contemplating, you picked up your bag, holding it close to yourself while your eyes flicker up to the clock once more- 12:40. Okay. You can do this, no big deal- you’re an adult.

Walking out the café’s door on wobbly legs, you’re shrouded by the darkness. The moon barely aids you, meagre light shining down on you from the great crescent in the sky. It’s thankfully just enough to see, and while you could take out your phone’s flashlight, you don’t want to risk grabbing any unwanted attention.

The streets are, for the most part, empty—save for the few pigeons or stray dogs that you see in the alleys—which is unusual for these parts of Gotham.

Then, you hear it- a loud ‘clang!’. Like metal.

Instinctively, your head whips around only to find that it’s.. a cat. A calico, barely anything save a kitten, messing around atop some trash can.

You’re not sure what compels you then, but like an idiot, you take a final glance around and, upon reconfirming that the streets are vacant of people, you inch towards the cat.

“Hey, kitty,” you coo, slowly reaching a hand out once you’re in the alley. It’s not that far from the road, you’re barely halfway in the alley, only just outside it for the cat. The calico reacts positively to your approach, letting out a small ‘meow’ and nuzzling its nose into your palm. You could’ve melted then and there. It’s evident, really, from how you continue to blabber sweet nothings underneath your breath, barely on the brink of squealing because the little thing just seems to revel in your affection.

It seems alone. You wonder where its mother is. It’s mewls sound pitched, and it’s definitely supposed to be feeding still. You can’t help but feel pity as you take in the orange splotches of colour on the otherwise black and white cat, and it’s blue eyes. Suddenly, in the midst of your discerning, it jumps off the trash can and hurriedly rushes away. “..What was that all about?” you mumble to yourself.

Footsteps catch your attention. Your eyes shoot up from the ground and dread fills you. You’d forgotten your rule. It should’ve been well past 12:00 now, and you’re in immediate danger.

Sparing a glance to the cat who was now trotting away, you almost wish you could’ve blamed it on the animal, but you’re very well aware whose fault it is that you’re about to get murdered.

“Hey,” a man calls out. He’s imposing, and he’s got grizzly brown hair and mutton chops. He’s wearing a worn T-shirt and some jeans, and his voice? God, his voice. It’s gruff and heavy and unsettling- it makes you feel unsteady, as though your knees are about to give out. You don’t dare respond. Instead, you decide to do the next best thing.

You pick flight over fight, and you flee. Or at least, you attempt to. It was almost embarrassing how fast his hands wrapped around your wrists, and even more so how you tried to wretch your hands away to absolutely no avail. It barely registers in your head, but he’s cussing at you, mumbling, something about calming down. Like hell you’re going to calm down. No, in fact, you may have the survival instincts of a fawn, but hell if you’re calming down. Instead, you scream- as loud as you can, at the top of your lungs, when he cuts it short by placing his palm over your mouth, positioned meticulously so you wouldn’t be able to bite down on him as much as you’d liked to.

You thrash and flail, and he lowers himself down to your ear. “Listen here, babe. Yer’ gunna give me yer’ cash, or ah’m gunna take somethin’ else.” He has an accent, and you’re not sure what kind (though you’re not very eager to find out), but it’s thick as a bush. More than his accent, though, you fixate on his words- you know sure as gravity what he's talking about. What he’s insinuating. You want to gag- you feel the bile travelling up your throat, but you swallow it back down, tears pricking at the ducts of your eyes. With how loud you screamed, you’re sure some vigilante must’ve heard you, but alas, nobody comes hither.

It’s stupid, you’re aware, but you can’t think of anything else. Spite and disgust and hatred and adrenaline, all at once, fill up your being and you shake your head, thrashing about some more. Writhing, squirming, wriggling, anything. You kick your legs back, aiming for his feet, but you stop when he holds his other hand up to your neck. He leaves his hands free, and noting this, you’re about to use them to fight back- but you stop cold in your tracks.

You stop. You stop when you realise he’s holding something in his hand. It glints under the moonlight, and you realise it’s exactly what you feared- a knife. Far from dull. The exact opposite, really. And it’s held up to your rushing pulse, threatening to draw blood.

You’re not sure what to do anymore. You need to pay your rent, you’re barely hanging on by a thread. You’re also not giving up your dignity- you’re also not going to die. The safest option is your money. Slowly, you raise your shaking arms into the air, as if to surrender. “Good,” he drawls. When he removes his hand from your mouth, you can smell it- the sickening stench of alcohol. Of-course he’s drunk. It’s likely why he’s so bold.

Just as you’re about to reach for your wallet, your aggressor jolts.

“What the fu—” His knife is knocked out of his hand, and his hand? Oh, his poor hand. You hear a very discernible ‘crack!’ paired with a scream from him as his hand is twisted into a position that isn’t remotely human. There’s a hand on his wrist, his assaulter- they’re clad in black leather (or some other sort of shiny, smooth material) gloves, and you follow it up to their arm (red sleeves), and their neck, and then their face. You glance down at their chest- and lo and behold; Red Robin.

He’s just like you’ve heard (or like how you’ve seen from the few blurry, low-quality videos that made it onto the news time again), his black hair parting at the centre, forming a sort of arch. Ah- wait, right. You’re not supposed to be dwelling on his appearance- not when your perpetrator is in immense pain. You almost want to cheer for the vigilante, but you hold back.

“Drop the knife,” he says to the man, his voice seeming far too familiar. Though you haven’t heard Red Robin before. His voice is near boyish, and though he’s younger than you assumed, he seems far from a teenager.

Backing up slowly, you’re unsure what exactly to do. So instead, you lean against a wall of the alley, trying to compose yourself, trying to get your breathing to slow down because you’re not sure when all the oxygen entering your lungs started to become too much, too fast. You trail a hand up to your chest, and you close your eyes and focus and, sure enough, your heart is beating at the speed of a Jackrabbit’s. It was understandable, to you, at least. Because, oh my god, he just broke that guy’s wrist. Holy shit.

You try to focus on anything else but your nerves, eyes landing on Red Robin and your assailant (you’re not certain how many words you’ve used for him by now). The latter is scrambling to apologise, the knife on the floor and one of his hands holding the other (which was limp by now. Your wrist feels like it’s faintly aching too, merely at the sight). He’s shaken, and you’re sure you would’ve been, too, if your wrist was snapped in half like nothing.

You can’t register what any of them are saying. It’s not that you’re far away, no, you’re close enough. But all the words are slurring together in your mind and you can’t bring yourself to focus. You see Red Robin nod his head towards the streets after a while, and your assailant hurriedly rushes off, leaving his knife there on the ground. The vigilante in red picks it up promptly, observing it for any stains and stashing it away in his utility belt. Then, his gaze is drawn to you from beneath the mask.

You always thought the masks were odd. Especially when you could see half their faces- save for Batman, of course. He says something, and you can hear his lips move, but it’s all Greek to you when it comes out. Then, his brows knit together the slightest bit in concern, and he takes a step forward. You can hear it now. “You okay?”

You nod. It’s almost embarrassing, the amount you’re shaking. But he doesn’t seem to judge you. Thank god for that, even if you’re not sure why you assumed he would. You almost had your neck sliced in half as if it were a watermelon in a game of Fruit Ninja.

Then you stare at Red Robin. You really stare at him. You squint your eyes, falling over his frame. His voice was familiar, you recalled telling yourself that not a few minutes ago. But why? Was it just one of those voices? It wasn’t. You realised it when you looked at his hair again. Black, silky locks that fell in waves, an arch formed at the centre. Holy shit. Holy shit. No, no it’s not. It’s not.

No, it so is. So you tell him, you tell him like it is. Or like you think it is, at least.

“You’re Tim drake.” It comes out breathy, like a gasp. Like you don’t believe yourself.

Then you stare at him some more. Because he’s doing the exact same thing, staring at you like you’d said something obscene, like you were from another planet or all your teeth had fallen out. His nose scrunched up only for a second, before a small snicker escaped him. Like he’d forgotten himself. His facade.

“I’m Red Robin.” It was confident, clear, crisp- every syllable. He knew who he was, he was self-assured. You almost doubted yourself, just for a second. But with you, instinct was always stronger than wit.

“Yeah, but—”

“It’s late. Do you need me to walk you home? Looked a bit dazed earlier,” he cut you off with the beginnings of a smile on his lips, acting like he didn’t even hear you. Which, yes, you started quite softly, but you’re sure he was close enough to hear.

You narrow your eyes. Ultimately, you decided it’d be best not to budge. There’s shivers that wrack your spine as images of that man���s twisted wrist invade your head. That could be your neck. No.

The bats and the birds don’t kill. The bats and the birds are, however, not above beating you to a pulp so much so that you wished that they kill. And then maybe they’ll leave you at some dingy hospital.

Slowly, you nod your head, moving up and off the wall you were slumped against previously. He smiled. It seemed so genuine, but you’re certain it’s not.

“Lead the way, then.”

⋆˙⟡ — a/n : i’m sososo sorry it took this longggg :( been a bit busy and also writer’s block hit HARD <//3 but i’ve prevailed !! 2nd chapter soon !!

. fin ˗ˏˋ ᯓᡣ𐭩

[severedfromthesource]

Androids and Electric Sheep

Ren is experiencing an unusual bug. Features F resus, M rescuer, CPR, stething, mouth to mouth, internal defibs, sex leading to cardiac arrest, sex acts both with consent and a person who cannot consent. I got too invested in the preamble so I highlighted the moment resus actually starts if you want to skip it.

No matter how advanced technology gets, it’ll only ever be used to fulfill man’s most base desires. Case in point- RN-34678. Or Ren, when the barcodes make my eyes glaze over and I get sick of calling them the number slurry X Tech names absolutely everything. Ren is as sophisticated as they come. Actual artificial intelligence. She makes the predictive text and ‘can’t even draw fingers’ image generating 21st century jokes people passed off as AI look like even more of a waste of time than they had been in those days. They might as well have been Speak n Spells. The collective power of every single basement dwelling crypto whizz kid with miles of wires and burnt up processors and bricked up video cards dedicated to their etherium farms pale in comparison to the computing power it takes to run Ren’s brain for an hour. She understands nearly 6,000 languages. She learns and retains information, consuming nearly 160 TB of memory every 8 hours. The bio-organic lace that makes up the net of her brain is a miracle, with the possibility of infinite memory. She is perfect in every sense of the word.

She is a glorified fuck toy.

The second the first android became commercially available, one of the first markets they hit was sex work. If nothing about late stage capitalism drove you crazy, that would have. Fuck curing cancer, or making androids for the dangerous, back breaking work people wreck their bodies to do, X Tech decided people needed a sex doll with a 100k price tag. The world’s most expensive cum sock. And yeah, alright, maybe I’m just bitter, partially because there’s no way in hell I could ever afford one, even as an android technician. But what a waste. She sits on my examination table, dutifully unzipping her black leather catsuit. Her managers always manage to stick her in something stupid looking, so overblown and sexualized they stop even being sexy at a certain point.

She looks up at me with lilac eyes. Last time they’d been blue. I like this shade better, I think, though I could do without the electric blue bob they have her wearing today. ”Your crash reports say you’ve been throwing error codes whenever a stream donation comes in over 2k,” I say. Which, for a bot like Ren, is quite a lot of her donations. “It’s probably just a bug in payment processing.” I look again over her diagnostics, floating on the screen at my desk. “Any complaints I wouldn’t find in the debug menu?”

”My heart has been feeling strange,” she says. I pause and look at her over the top of my glasses. “Well, firstly, it’s not your heart. An aether pump does not a heart make. Secondly, it shouldn’t feel like anything. You’re supposed to ignore the inner workings, it’s all background programs, runs without you thinking about it.” She shrugs. Her shoulders are pale as she rolls down the catsuit and pulls her arms from the sleeves, bunching up the tight leather around her midriff. Her breasts are small and round, standing upright as pretty as a Botticelli painting. I’d noticed the small bumps on either side of her nipples (Christ, did the things ever go soft? Or were they just always cutting glass?) but didn’t register until I saw them now that her managers had pierced them sometime since our last checkup. Little silver bars were stuck through the pink nubs, with winking silver balls on either end. Alright, cool, chill.

I clear my throat and pull up my rolling stool. “Well, let’s just take a look then.” I shift once I’m seated to alleviate the pressure of my stiffening cock. Listen, I’m not a technophile, honest to God. I go out of my way to filter out androids when I’m scrolling through porn sites because, despite the leaps and bounds we’ve made in technology, the uncanny valley is still a thing. It feels weird getting off to bots. But then there’s Ren. And fuck me if she isn’t the most attractive thing I’ve ever seen. I put a hand on the back of her neck, my thumb resting at the diagnostic mode button hidden just under the edge of her jaw. I feel the soft bump that sinks in when I press. Her lilac eyes flash black with snatches of white text, then roll back to lilac. Damn, she smells like a new car.

I glance back at the monitor, and as I suspected, nothing comes up about the aether pump. It seems in perfect working order. Still, I dig around my box of scrap wires and spare tubing until I find my mostly neglected stethoscope. I don’t often have to use it, but I feel a trill of excitement go up from my stomach to think I get to use it on Ren. I plug up my ears and put a hand on her shoulder, taking the bell of the steth in my other hand. Her breasts rise and fall with the rhythm of her breathing, set to mimic human intervals. The real purpose is to cool down her insides and keep her from overheating, but just like the aether pump and its auditory cues, its designed to mimic humans as closely as possible. After a guy fucks something like Ren, he gets the added benefit of being able to lay next to her and listen to her breathing. Feel her heart beat. Doesn’t matter what the purpose of the design is for, it matters so he doesn’t feel like he’s fucking a 100k fleshlight with arms and legs. I press the steth to a spot above her breast and it sinks into her pillowy soft skin like it was real. Cool it, Christ, you can’t get so hot and bothered over everything. Heel, boy.

But my thumb makes a slight imprint against her tit, and it’s hard to think of anything else. Same thing happens when I press the steth against a space under her breast, and it lays warmly against the back of my hand. The pump, like the fake lungs, is designed to look and act and even sound like a heart, pumping coolant through her body. I tell her it’s not a heart out of some petty, pedantic need to distance myself and my unique humanity, but truth is, the thing is a heart. She could die if something went really wrong with it, and a lot of bots have. Sudden cardiac arrest was one of the main bugs in the 2.3 rollout. It got so bad, tons of models in the service industry had to be recalled, because mechanical line cooks and servers were dropping if the ovens got too hot. My hand still on her neck, I pull her forward and press the bell to her back. Her forehead brushes against my shoulder, her gaudy blue wig draping against the side of my neck and jaw. I tilt my head just enough my nose brushes her hair. Fuck, she really does smell good.

“Well, I don’t hear any irregularities,” I tell her, because I don’t. The thing is pumping liquid aether around her body at around 70 bpm, like it should. She draws up from my shoulder, glancing at me sideways. “It only seems to happen with clients,” she says, drying out my throat in an instant. “Clients?” “Mhm. Whenever one of them climaxes. If they do it inside me, my heart starts going very fast. I get foggy and I can’t think afterwards.” I swallow. “Right,” I say, “I mean… I can’t exactly test that, Ren.” She touches my wrist. “It’s rather frightening, Doc. I worry…” She pauses, and I try very hard not to say out loud what I’m thinking. You shouldn’t be frightened of anything, Ren. You’re not supposed to feel any of this. She sits back, bringing her hand up, her fingers curling against where her pump lies in her chest, half covering her nudity.

She doesn’t want to get recalled. I wince in spite of myself. If she has the same defect others in her rollout had, she’s going right back to X Tech. I push the steth around my neck, scooping back hair from my face. “It’s a pretty fatal system flaw. It… I could… Well, I-“ I can’t look at her. Fuck, I really can’t look at her. My face feels hot. This is the plot of like, 90% of bot R34 on the internet. I might as well be a pizza delivery guy and she a lonely housewife who’s a few bucks short on a large sausage. She ‘breathes’. Her chest goes up and down, the lights winking off her pierced nipples. She’s so goddamn gorgeous.

���Doc?” “Thinking,” I huff. I spare a glance around the other cubicles bordering mine. Big glass offices, designed for this exact stupid fucking thing I’m about to do. The first guy who got caught with his dick in a bot ruined it for everyone, so now my coworkers and I are subjected to rat lab cubicles where we can look in on each other at any given moment. People around us testing reflexes, repairing cosmetic damage, quashing bugs. What I was about to do was also technically debugging, but there was no way in hell my boss was gonna see it that way if he saw my flat ass pumping in and out of a bot worth more than I make in a year on the other side of plexiglass. Alright, cool, chill. I scoop up my backpack with my work laptop and sling it over my shoulder. “Bathroom,” I whisper.

Cut to Ren and I, locked in the women’s bathroom. We have three women in the office, and their cubes are on the other side of the building, closer to another bathroom. This one is usually empty. Cut to her, awkwardly standing in front of a toilet. Me, on the verge of being the Most Fired Man Who Ever Lived. For extra security, I’d stuffed us both into a stall, locking it behind me too. It's cramped, which adds to the feeling this is absolutely not what I'm supposed to be doing. But hey, it's my job, isn't it?

I awkwardly maneuver around her and sit on the toilet lid, hastily undoing my pants. God, this is shameful. And weirdly hot? I can't tell if it's just Ren or the dozen or so corporate regulations and general laws I'm breaking doing this, but I can feel the pulse in my cock, pressing up against the inseam of my jeans. Those lavender eyes flick from my face to the swollen, flushed skin, and the outer rim of her pupils flash with color. I help her roll down the leather catsuit and then, holy shit, Jesus, Mary and Joseph, I’m inside her. She feels real. My hands on her back, my face buried in her tits, her thighs on mine, she feels realer than any woman I had ever known. My breath warms her artificial skin, and the barbell through her nipple is cold, the contrast making me shiver whenever the hot skin of my cheek touches the metal. My fingers slide up her stomach, her hips bucking and pumping me in and out of her. She’s tight. Really fuckin tight. I can feel her aether pump, the artificial heart, throbbing in her inner walls, harder than any real heart I’d ever felt. It adds to every stroke, a thumping sensation that’s nearly making me come after a couple thrusts. Christ, I might as well be sticking my dick right against the chambers of her fake heart.

The job. Right, I’m doing a job. Fuck, I’ve never loved my job so much. “Lemme- ngh, God, fuck- lemme see i-ins-side your ch-est, R-Ren.” She’s straddling my lap, panting like a porn star, her bob swinging back and forth, and she nods. The synthetic skin goes translucent, a dull blue glow that starts at her collarbone and down to the bottom of her ribcage. I spare only a brief chuckle, Man, we never could get rid of those stupid gamer lights, before I try to focus my attention on her inner workings. The aether heart is basically a simplified human one, drawing hot fluid in one side and squeezing out coolant through the other in an eternal ebb and flow. And right now, it’s going insane. The valves are snapping open and closed rapidly, the thing shuddering instead of really beating. There’s a little display window pinned under her collarbone, and it’s clocking her at 150 bpm, the green spikes of her heartbeat saw toothing across the round display port. Not totally dangerous, but as I pump inside of her and she bounces on my thighs to match my quickening pace, it keeps climbing.

Alright. As much as I want to be stuck in here forever, with a beautiful woman bouncing on my dick in a way I’ve only ever dreamed of, I have to figure out what’s wrong. I wrap my arms around her body, pulling her flush against my chest. “Hold onto me, ‘kay?” I breathe against her ear. Her arms slid around me, nails brushing briefly against my shoulder blades. I take in her scent. Focus on the sensations of her body, the sharp cold of her piercings, breasts pressed against my chest, her warm, throbbing cunt. It doesn’t take long. I start to lose the rhythm as my breath shortens, my strokes shortening too, until finally I can take it no more. I come, hot seed filling her up, bathing my cock, spilling out from between our sexes. Her back arches, a cry ripping from her throat of the most exquisite ecstasy.

Then she dies.

No, seriously, the bot quits all at once. I’m there, still trying to enjoy the feeling of my load making her even tighter and full, when she goes completely limp. Her arms slide down from my back, and the artificial pulse I feel in her cunt just stops all at once. She’s dead weight on top of me. “Fuck,” I spit, trying to readjust her, but she’s goddamn heavy. “Ren? Hey, Ren- man, what the fuck-”

I look up at her sternum to see the aether pump has stopped. The little internal monitor is reading a flatline. I fumble to unlatch the bathroom door, my other hand cradling her back, as I awkwardly shift to try and swing it open. Both of us end up in a heap on the floor when I try to pick her up. I'm apologizing to her slack and lifeless face as I disentangle myself and hastily zip up, then lay her flat on her back. Her perfect round breasts sit in the open air, her still heart glowing between them. I set my laptop beside her and hook up a USB into the command port hidden behind her ear.

There was no tip off in her crash reports, but looking now, I can see the absolute mess of code in the last few lines she ran before arresting. I clean up some of the irregularities, get rid of the redundancies, and hit reboot. Two small circular nodes glow within her chest, then snap against the chambers of her heart. Basically built in defib units. Her body jerks, hand twitching in against her cheek, her back arching slightly. Her naked shoulder blades slap against the tile floor as she falls back, limp again. But she doesn't move. Her pump is still. I glance at the monitor and see FATAL SYSTEM ERROR flash across the screen. Fuck, am I going to have to do this manually?

Growling in frustration, I throw my hands against her sternum. It's easy to get the right position when I can see her heart lying beneath a few layers of synthetic skin. Squaring my shoulders, I push down hard. Unlike with real CPR on a real person, depth doesn't matter, nor the risk of breaking ribs. She's basically Wolverine. A hydraulic crusher couldn't break her ribs. They yield though, and bow in against her spine as I rhythmically pump her heart. The force ripples through her whole body. Her stomach pops up, her shoulders shrug in, her head rolls back and forth. I look from her face down to her tits. I can't help it, they're swaying with each compression, the light catching her piercings. I can feel the cool metal rest against my fingers. The position my hands are in leaves my fingertip pressing against her nipple, still standing upright from our exercise. A shiver runs through me. Am I seriously getting hard again? It's hard not to. My eyes drink in her still body, the remnants of our session dribbling down her thigh, her breasts bouncing like they had when she was riding me.

I can almost see the corner of the screen light up with “Kink Unlocked: Reviving Dead Girls”. I glance at the monitor and see the reboot option has lit up again. When I take my hands away from her chest, I see her aether pump jerking as if trying to start again. Once more I charge the internal defibrillators. While they hum to life, I partake in a ritual that isn't strictly necessary. The hero always gets to indulge in mouth to mouth with the downed heroine. She doesn't actually need air, but her lips are slack, full and inviting. I press mine over hers, breathing air she doesn't need into her mouth. I can feel her cheeks puff, and I'm surprised but excited to see her chest rises too. I give her a few quick bursts of oxygen. Her chest jerks up and I only allow it to fall part way before I give her another, making her chest rise and fall in short hyperventilations. My hand finds itself running up her stomach to feel the motion of my breaths, up over her breast again. It fills my palm as I breathe a long, slow draft into her throat, and I roll her nipple between my fingers. She sighs out recycled air against my face when I break the seal of our lips.

Man, how do EMTs not cum when they resuscitate hot girls? The whole tableau is so erotic, I can feel my pulse once more jerk in my cock. The defibs once more slap the chambers of her artificial heart and she thrashes under the current. Her breasts sway and she again falls limp to the tiles.

“Come on, Ren,” I say under my breath, watching her aether pump swelling at uneven intervals. The chambers aren't beating right still, snapping open and closed out of sync with one another. I again check her code on my laptop, using one hand to tap through my options. The other I lay against her sternum. It occurs to me I really don't know what the fuck I'm doing. Whatever feels like it helps, I guess. Or whatever feels good. I grind my heel in against her heart in slow, rhythmic compressions with one hand. “Come on, work with me here. Breathe for me. Do something, at least let me know you're not completely bricked.” The idea that she might be makes me swallow hard. I like Ren. I don't want to ship her off to the junkyard as much as she doesn't want to be shipped.

When her heart goes still again I lace my fingers together and start pumping her chest anew. I forget my laptop entirely- this isn't a software issue, it's the hardware in her chest acting up. If I can just get the damn thing to reset. Swinging my leg over her supple thighs, I straddle her so I can use my whole body. Like this, I can feel the motion my work creates in her otherwise still body. Each powerful thrust against her pump rolls the kinetic force through her whole body. Her feet swing back and forth. The force rolls from her chest, down her stomach, even rippling her thighs. Each compression makes her stomach roll out, only now I can feel it between my legs.

Fuck it, I'm already fired. These life saving efforts have got me hard all over again, something I would have thought impossible. I unzip and thrust into her almost in one motion. It's next to impossible to actually pump into her while I'm working her heart, so I mostly settle for letting her body rock into me while I do CPR. Only when the prompt for the defibrillator pops up again do I allow myself to roll my hips into her while it charges. The thing whines quietly as I brace my hand against her chest, driving my cock deep inside her. It slaps her heart again and she arches her back, filling my hand against her sternum. Her inner walls clench with the electricity and I groan as I roll in and out of her. That's when she draws in a breath and moans all at once. Her eyes flutter open and she instinctively begins to grind her hips in rhythm with me. Before long I'm filling her up all over again and I collapse on top of her. She's back. The thought strikes me as I look down and see her aether pump snapping out a normal, if elevated rhythm. I roll off onto the welcome chill of the tile floors, my arm still slung around her.

“You okay?” I pant, my eyes half lidded as I look at her. Ren nods, smiling weakly in return. Then she’s wrapping her arms around me, burying her face in my shoulder. I hesitate, the shame of what I had done to her when she was basically dead starting to creep up now that the high is waning. But eventually I slide my arms around her in return, drawing her close to my body. “Thank you, doc,” she whispers.

“Don't mention it.” Seriously, don't mention any of this.

[changingplumbob]

Second Round - Day Three (Gonk) 1 of 3

@sleepyselkiesims, @sanitysims, @bakersimmer, @invisiblequeen, @abbysimsfun, @fallin4fiction

Reflection on Progress: I didn't expect to get so emotionally invested. Usually my reaction to any life events is to just be chill and accept whatever comes my way. But coming in dead last... that hurts.

Evelyn: She absolutely deserved to be in the top 10. Evelyn is such a sweetheart!

Kristina: She handled Nathalie so well, I've gained a lot of respect for her! I hope we can be friends.

Nephinae: I don't know why, but she kinda low-key scares me. Maybe it's because she's so pretty, or so cool, or maybe there's something we don't know about her yet.

Nicola: I thought we'd hang out more in our last group, but maybe second group is the charm? We did have some good pool chats

Yasmine: I can't believe I totally overlooked her until now! I don't know how Deanna manages to keep up with all of us- anyway, she survived the drama llama group, and I'm sure she has some stories to tell!

Reflection on Progress: I'm glad I got a date with Deanna! Even if I don't win, I'd say I have a good friend for life. I do want to win though..

Arista: It's good to be with a familiar face again! She's a lot of fun. *quietly* I've also got a few more questions about merpeople...

Kristina: She's pretty! Maybe we can bond over brothers. 

Nephinae: I have to say, seeing her round with Kristina did worry me a bit. Hopefully we can get along and our group stays peaceful.

Nicola: It's great having Nicola here too. I hope she gets a date this round, I want her to stick around!

Yasmine: She seems quite passionate about nature! I wonder if she could give me some gardening tips.

Reflection on Progress: Round One was so much fun. Even though I moved into the villa about halfway up the leaderboard after meeting Deanna, I had a really great time with the challenges. I hope no one watching at home tries bowling in a maxi skirt like I did, but winning the staring contest just reaffirmed why I'm here. I think sitting in fourth going into round 2 is reflects how well-matched I am with Deanna. Just need to win a few more challenges and it'll be Lara, who?! Just kidding, I love Lara. I want to be her friend!

Arista: She seems like a sweet girl and I'm looking forward to getting to know her better! I don't know any mermaids but she rocks such a cool style. I'm fascinated by her!

Evelyn: Evelyn seems to get along well with everyone, doesn't she? I don't think she and I will be any different and I'm looking forward to being roomies in the villa!

Nephinae: I was worried about maybe being with Nephinae again, but she's not as dramatic as I first thought. I mean, don't get me wrong, she IS dramatic, but she's also nice. Hopefully this round we'll keep getting to know each other better.

Nicola: She seems like a sweet girl, too. She's a teacher so she kind of acted like a house mom in round one. I won't mind if she wants to do the dishes, but if she shushes us during movie night, my erratic side might come out!

Yasmine: Yasmine seems really down to earth and I can't wait to meet her. She wants to save the outdoors that I love spending all my time in, so I really hope the two of us will get along. Overall, I think I ended up with a really great group of girls for round 2 and I really hope I'm right!

Reflection on Progress: Holy Cowplant, was that a lot of fun and drama at the same time! I'm just glad I wasn't in the middle of it. Most importantly, I'm glad that I made it out alive!

Nice part over. Cluck you, Alaina. You lying, cheating GNOME. I Can't believe I was more annoyed with Kristina than I was with YOU. Should have seen your game from a mile away. I hope your fiance freezes all your accounts and flees the country with your money. Sims like you make us all want to stay single forever.

Cut this part out please. Now that I've vented it doesn't feel good to put out there anymore. Thanks.

Evelyn: I hate to do this, but I'm gonna start judging them by rank int he competition. Evelyn is ranked 8th. She's not as high up as Kristina, but she's still one half of my competition. She's got something about her that makes you do a double take, so I get it.

Arista: I know she's rank 24, and i'm supposed to talk about her competitively, but I don't care. She's a mermaid. She's automatically number 1. I wanna get to know her. I wanna learn how to sing like a siren. I wanna go swimming and race her around the pool or something. She's SUPERNATURAL. I want to SWIM with her!…But i also want to Date Deanna and that takes precedence doesn't it?

Kristina: She is the closest to 1st place in our group! Rank 4?? That's WILD! She must really know her way to a woman's heart! Almost makes me want to be her friend…but I'm liking Deanna a lot more than I started and I don't know if it's a good idea to befriend competition!

Nicola: Rank 20. I'm keeping my eye out on her. When you're that low in the ranking there is NOTHING to lose. She. might play dirty. She might play overly nice to gain points. She might be looking at us more competitively than I'm looking at everybody! I'm on my guard but i'm also gonna respect whatever it is she has to do to get ahead.

Yasmine: Eh, Rank 16 is better than 24, but it's still 16. I'd imagine she might push her way into other people's time with Deanna to make up for the chasm. Frankly, I'm surprised she's not higher. Look at her HAIR. It's soooooo beautiful (swoons)

Reflection on Progress: I was really happy to be here and I've had a great time, but I didn't do well enough in challenges and felt like I was always watching Deanna from too far away. I need to up my game in round two.

Arista: It's great to be back with Arista! She's such a fascinating sim and we had nice chats by the pool. I've got to remember she doesn't like my jumpscares very much, though.

Evelyn: Evelyn is great, total sweetheart. She's probably the first friend I made here, and I'm so happy we're still roommates at the villa!

Kristina: I'm excited to get to know Kristina better. She's gorgeous and seems like a nice person. And she's got great style!

Nephinae: Another beautiful girl I can't wait to meet! Full of passion! Deanna seems to like her a lot, and I can see why.

Yasmine: I really think I lucked out with this group. Yasmine also seems like a sweetheart. I love her desire to save the planet - I grew up in a green neighbourhood in Henford, myself! As long as she doesn't pull trash out of her pockets at the dinner table, it'll be great!

Reflection on Progress: I feel pretty good. I got to know Deanna a bit better and I made some friends, so there's not much to complain about. I won the Party Frenzy challenge, but there are a lot of girls ahead of me. Hopefully I can find more ways to shine in round 2! Maybe a conservation project?

Arista: Oh, the mermaid! I love Arista's energy. I can't wait to talk to her about cleaning up the oceans! I hear she doesn't really like to swim, but maybe she would if the water was cleaner.

Evelyn: Evelyn seems so sweet and creative. Friends with everyone. Hopefully that means me too, soon.

Kristina: She loves the outdoors and I want to save the planet, so hopefully we can bond over the importance of trees. Hopefully Kristina's family doesn't do anything to damage the trees, like forestry. I know that's a big industry in Moonwood Mill; most of their lumber leaves port in Evergreen Harbour.

Nephinae: Nephinae is beautiful but a little...passionate. I hope I don't get on her bad side. Living with Cassiel in round one was tough enough - and I wasn't even Jerrica!

Nicola: Nicola seems sweet, but manicures dump a lot of alcohols into the water system. I hope she's teaching her students about the importance of conservation, and not just for assemblies on Earth Day!

[violetseaslug]

and we could meddle about. ₊˚⊹ ⋅☆

⊹⁠˚₊ ⤷ " you already got me feeling some type of way "

⊹⁠˚₊ ⤷ masterlist! // reqs r open cuties!

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⊹⁠˚₊ 🪻 synopsis: fem!reader joined squid game to protect her sister, she then meets se-mi (and develops a crushhhhh) and joins thanos' group !!

⊹⁠˚₊ 🔮 warnings: violence, thanos dies </3 (mentioned briefly)

⤷ brief a/n: i fear i let my inner #1 nam-gyu hater instincts out. oops!

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Jun-hee had always been the braver one between the two of you. The stronger one. The one who never hesitated to throw herself into danger if it meant protecting others. But this time, you weren’t going to let her do it alone. If she was here, you had to be here too.

As you stepped onto the cold, metallic floor of the arena, your heart pounded in your chest. The others around you—some terrified, others completely composed—were now your competition.

You scanned the crowd quickly, searching for your sister, but before you could find her, an eerie and unfitting song played over the speakers, signaling the start of the first round.

All of a sudden, just minutes later, everything happened too fast. The resounding echoe of gunshots. The clash of bodies. The sharp, unmistakable scent of sweat and blood. You barely managed to keep your balance upright before someone yanked you back by the collar, saving you from what would’ve been a devastating end.

“Watch yourself,” a voice snapped, low but urgent. You forced your eyes back to see a slight glimpse of the eyes of a girl—short hair, sharp gaze, and an expression that said she wasn’t fucking around.

You had seen glimpses of her from afar before the first game even started. But now, standing this close, with adrenaline pumping through both your veins, she was something else entirely.

Before you could thank her, she had already begun walking ahead as the dolls head turned to face away from them. Just like that, she was gone, disappearing into the chaos.

But something inside you told you this wouldn’t be the last time your paths crossed.

The next time you saw her, it was under significantly less dire circumstances—relatively speaking. You were cornered in one of the holding areas, a group of desperate players eyeing you like vultures, whispering about how easy of a target you looked.

You were trying to decide whether to fight or flee when she appeared again, stepping in front of you with a sigh.

"One round in, and you’re already making yourself seem like an outcast? Interesting strategy." she said dryly, crossing her arms as she stared down the would-be aggressors.

The group hesitated, exchanging glances, before backing off. Whether it was out of fear of her or just lack of interest, you weren’t sure.

You exhaled, shifting on your feet. "I didn’t ask for help."

She let out a scoff, giving you a once-over. "Yeah? And how was that plan working out for you?" She tilted her head. "Look, you can either pretend you had it handled or you can say thank you. I really don’t care which."

You clenched your jaw but relented. "Fine. Thanks."

She smirked, clearly amused. "There you go. Wasn’t so hard, was it?" She jerked her head toward the far side of the room. "Come on. If you’re going to keep running into trouble, you might as well stick with someone who knows how to deal with it."

You hesitated for only a second before following. Something told you that sticking with her might be the smartest decision you’d make in this place.

You integrated into se-mis group faster than you expected. Thanos was... definitely something, wildly out of control. Minsu was quiet and vunerable. Nam-gyu was just a dick. And then there was Se-mi. direct, sarcastic, but strangely dependable. You trusted them more than you trusted most of the other players, and in this place, that meant everything.

Time passed, and you found yourself growing accustomed to Se-mi’s presence. She had a way of keeping you on your toes, pushing you to be better, tougher. And before you knew it, trust had formed between you both.

It was during the third game that things changed. You had been separated from her when Nam-gyu made his move out of despair and grief for his late close friend, thanos.

You heard the struggle before you saw it—the sound of a struggle, a sharp cry. Instinct kicked in before fear could settle, and you rushed forward.

You found Se-mi pinned to the ground, Nam-gyu’s grip tightening around her throat. Without thinking, you lunged, using the element of surprise to knock him off balance.

Se-mi gasped as air rushed back into her lungs, and before Nam-gyu could retaliate, she delivered a brutal kick that sent him sprawling.

Panting, she turned to you, wiping blood from the corner of her mouth. "Do you just throw yourself into danger for fun, or is this a new hobby?"

You rolled your eyes. "You’d rather I let him choke you out?"

She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. "No. But don’t make a habit of throwing yourself into fights for me. I can handle myself."

You crossed your arms. "Yeah, it sure looked like you could. You’re welcome, by the way."

She smirked slightly, her gaze softer than usual. "Yeah, yeah. Thanks."

Before you could say anything else, she reached out, brushing her fingers against your wrist—brief, fleeting, but enough to send warmth through you despite the cold.

Later that night, as you sat beside Jun-hee in the dimly lit dormitory, she eyed you with a knowing look.

"So," she started, her tone casual but laced with something more. "Se-mi, huh?"

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

Jun-hee chuckled, leaning back. "uh huh....you know if something goes down, I’ll have no choice but to step in. right?"

You lifted your head, meeting her gaze. There was no malice in her words, just the usual protectiveness.

You sighed, a small smile tugging at your lips. "Right."

From across the room, Se-mi caught your eye, smirking as if she knew exactly what Jun-hee had just said. You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest didn’t fade.

Maybe, just maybe, this was something worth fighting for.

[perfctvelvet]

I can’t stop thinking about Momo from Twice!! 😫 She’s SO hot and I NEED her to straddle me, put me into a mating press and use a double ended dildo with me. She’s so strong and has so much stamina I could imagine Momo not stopping her thrusts until she’s satisfied and eating reader in between out to give them a “break” (ofc with reader not wanting her to stop either but Momo knows reader is just being a brat 🤭)

Lush; Momo/Reader

Content: 2nd POV. PWP, teasing and praise, overstimulation, double-ended dildo, oral (reader receiving).

A/N: Anon thank you for this message 😿I love when y'all get creative in my inbox!!! Hopefully I did your fantasy some justice. Enjoy!

It was amazing how Momo could just keep going and going. All that stamina and energy had to go somewhere, and she took it out on your poor pussy.

Your knees are almost pressed to your shoulders as Momo drills into you. The toy she has is thick and placed inside the two of you. She's able to keep herself composed, focused on nothing but pure pleasure while you feel like a hot mess beneath her. Tears fall from your eyes as she tries to kiss them away. Two rounds and orgasms in and you're so overwhelmed. Despite having the same thick length in her pussy, Momo is able to handle it much better than you. The feeling of her driving the toy into you and hitting your sore soft spot made you shake. The mess between your legs caused your skin to stick to his. You kept your eyes closed shut in embarrassment; the only thing on your mind is when will he be fully satiated?

"Can you handle another one, pretty girl?"

She manages to speak in a clear voice with soft moans placed between some of her words. Compared to you, who can only let out a babble, Momo could go for a few more rounds.

"Momo!" You whine. It's the only coherent word you can manage.

Momo cups your face and kisses your bruised lips. She feels bad that you're already so worn out, but she also enjoys seeing you at her mercy.

"You're doing so good for me baby. Your pretty face is gonna make me cum!"

Despite the pleasure stirring in her stomach, Momo's thrusts are still consistent and mean. You know she's getting close because she's fucking you faster and harder. She meets you with one final thrust before grinding her clit against yours. You don't mean to cum with her but after all this time of getting your pussy stretched open, the pressure on your clit makes you explode.

Your voice cracks at the loud moan that escapes. Momo squeals and moans as she cums just seconds after you. Her cum slides down the toy and onto your pussy. You are far past feeling sloppy, but Momo wants more.

"Don't give up on me now baby." She sits up, giving you a chance to stretch and move your legs again, but your pussy is still stuffed. She starts bouncing again, her pretty tits moving up and down with each movement.

You just lay there trying to pull yourself together. You grab onto Momo's hips which slow her down a little. She gives you a sympathetic look and comes to a complete stop. You're tired, but seeing her slide off of the double-ended dildo makes your mouth water.

"My pretty baby feeling sore?"

Unable to speak, you nod your head pathetically. Momo coos at the sight of you. You weren't sure if she was teasing you or if she was feeling bad for making you this way. She gets between your legs and slowly pulls the dildo out of you. You whimper once you're pussy is empty and has nothing to clench anymore. Through half-closed eyes you watch her stick your end of the toy into her mouth and she sucks off your cum. She moans at the taste. You close your eyes completely to avoid feeling even more embarrassment. Your face feels like it's on fire.

Momo inspects your sore pussy for a few seconds before softly dragging her finger against your puffy folds. You tense up and open your eyes again. You're still feeling overwhelmed but somehow her touching you like this is soothing. Momo bends down and buries her face in your pussy. She collects the mix your cum together in her mouth. She hums as if she's feasting on the sweetest, freshest honey in all of the land. Her soft tongue on your pussy feels like silk. The feeling of your flesh against her tongue is turning her on more than you.

She should show some restraints, but she just can't. The mess between your legs, the taste of your pussy, and the sight of like this makes her hungry again. So for the third time tonight, she pushes the dildo into your pussy again and then mounts you.

"Just one more for me. I promise."

[ryleigh130]

Frostbite- - - ryleigh130

Summary- reader gets hypothermia on a mission and the boys help warm them up.

Relationships- platonic!taskforce 141 & gn!reader

Characters- cap. price, soap, ghost, gaz.

Word count- 2.2k

Warnings- hypothermia, profanity, 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of c/n [code name/call sign].

Note- This is my first ever fanfiction written on here so please leave me suggestions on how to improve! This story is inspired by the creator @python333 so go and check out their work it’s absolutely amazing! If you would like to leave a request for me to do a specific prompt feel free to message me! That’s it, thank you and I hope you enjoy! <33

It’s. Fucking. Cold. The three words repeat in your mind over and over again as you consider voicing your complaints to the team for what had to be the 8th time in the last 30 minutes. You couldn’t help it, it was cold. Freezing actually, you and the others were assigned a mission in the middle of butt fuck nowhere Siberia so excuse you for being cold.

To make matters worse for you, you’re the only 141 member currently suffering the biting cold as you were the one who drew the short end of the stick and got put on sniper duty whilst the others get to enjoy the warmth of actually being in the building they’re trying to get the info from.

With that thought, you sigh and shift your position slightly from where you are laying looking through the scope on your M107. It wouldn’t be so bad if you were actually moving around but instead, you’ve been laying in the same position, in the snow, for around 3 hours and you’re starting to loose feeling in your fingers and toes.

“[c/n], how copy” your radio sparks to life as the gruff, British accent of your Captain comes through.

“Still fucking cold, are we almost done here? I’m freezing my balls off out here” you groan, tentatively flexing your fingers trying to spark life back into them.

A low chuckle is heard over the radio as you can practically hear Price roll his eyes from where he is positioned, “you’ve mentioned. But yes, as soon as Soap plants the bombs we should be good to go. How’s it looking Soap?” A clicking can be heard over the radio when suddenly the loud, Scottish voice of John “Soap” MacTavish booms through,

“Aye Cap’n, jist aboot done” you hear another click and a hushed exclaim of victory, “Aw set!” You practically let out a cry of relief at the thought of going back to the safe house and getting warm,

“Took you long enough!” Gaz’ teasing voice pipes up before promptly getting shut up,

“Oh shut it you bawbag” Soap’s voice is light as you hear their footsteps going down the halls to escape the building. You watch through the scope of your rifle making sure to keep an eye out for any rouge enemies that might be hanging around the building the team was gathering the info from. You see Gaz leave the building first, followed by Price and finally Soap. You frown slightly, waiting a few moments before radioing,

“Ghost, how copy” you wait a few seconds before radioing in again, this time sounding more worried, “Ghost, ho-“ before you could finish your sentence, Ghost’s voice, accompanied by the sounds of gunshots filter through

“Solid copy.” He grunts out “I’ve got a few on my tail now but I’m taking care of it” you hear more gunshots as you look through your scope trying to spot Ghost’s form. Suddenly, an alarm rings through the building, you watch as dozens of enemy soldiers flood into the building your team once occupied,

“Fuck Ghost, incoming” you manage to warn before you hear Price’s loud and commanding voice boom,

“Ghost! Get out of there now! We need to detonate this thing now!” You hear Ghost reply with a short grunt. You watch as Ghost’s body runs out from the quickly populating building spraying round after round at accompanying enemies following. You try and help the best you can picking off as many enemies as possible before you hear Soap’s shout,

“CLEAR!” And with that, the building goes up in flames. You duck your head from where you’re positioned to avoid the ash and debris from the burning building,

“All Bravos, how copy?” You hear Price’s voice through the slight ringing of your ears,

A chorus of “Solid, copy”’s respond to the Captain, including your own as you begin to pack your weapon up to head out.

“Brilliant, alright everyone good work. Let’s regroup at the safe house 5 clicks from this position.” A murmur of approvals ring through the coms as you absentmindedly hum your approval and mute your radio. You finish packing up your gear when you hear a twig snap somewhere close by. You perk up and draw your M18 from where it’s positioned in the small holster on your thigh. As quiet as a mouse you sneak through the snowy brush to where the noise originated, peaking through the tree line your heart sinks to the bottom of your stomach as you see a squadron of about 9 soldiers approaching your position.

Fuck me. You practically groan, you know you won’t be able to take them all down at the same time so you do the only sensible option, you run. Expertly navigating through the snowy taiga, you run, duck, and jump over the obstacles in front of you. You can hear the pounding of footsteps behind you and the whizzing of bullets flowing past your body, barely missing their target. You run until your lungs burn and your eyes water from the cold air. You look around seemingly cornered by the enemy soldiers and the barren landscape when you spot it. A frozen over lake and possibly your one chance at survival, without a chance to second guess yourself, you’re running towards the lake. You hear yelling in the distance followed by more gunshots as you continue towards the lake. You reach the shoreline and tentatively put your body weight on the ice, judging by the fact it didn’t immediately crack, you take the risk and start sliding toward the other side. Luckily you are small and light enough to be able to tread across the slippery surface. You look over your shoulder to see the soldiers staring at you and continuing to try and shoot you. Before you could react, a stray bullet embeds into the icy surface and a loud crack and be heard. You look down in terror as the ice begins to crack and splinter. With a new objective in mind, you quicken your pace to the reach the other side of the frozen lake.

It’s too late. You’re about 3/4ths of the way when the ice suddenly relents under your weight and you get plunged into the deep icy depths of the water. The icy water causes your body to immediately freeze and jolt in pain as the below freezing water feels like pins and needles getting pushed into your skin slowly. You sink toward the bottom of the frozen pool before your mind catches up with your body and a gasp of air leaves your mouth. You’re choking on the icy water as you struggle against the cold, slowly and painfully you make your way back towards the surface. Your head emerges from the water first, then followed by your hands as you desperately try and grab onto something to be able to drag yourself out of the water. You can’t get a grip on the slippery surface causing you to gasp and sink back into the water, kicking your feet one final time you propel yourself out of the water and onto the ice. With the last bit of your remaining energy you fling yourself to the safety of solid ground on the other side of the lake.

You lay on the snowy ground shivering violently. You look out at the side of the lake where you came from and notice the soldiers were gone, must’ve thought I was a goner, you think bitterly. You don’t have time to reminisce on it as the wind picks up and reminds you that you are currently shivering, wet, and unable to feel your own body. Weakly, you try and turn on your radio to signal for help. You almost cry when you realize it’s gone, you must’ve lost it when you fell in. Coughing violently, you shakily get on your feet, stumbling once, then twice, you manage to stand and take unsteady steps towards where you assume the safe house should be.

The hike takes longer than it should’ve as you continuously stumbled and fell, taking longer than you care to admit to get back up and continue. It’s around 1700 judging by the just setting sun, when the small cabin comes into view. You almost weep in relief when you see it, you pick up your pace into a small run and, promptly fall down face first into the snow. You lay in the snow no longer shivering as your body begins to shut down, No! Not like this, I’m right there! You feel yourself thinking. You feel as if you hear a noise that resembles a door opening and voices yelling but you chalk that up to your imagination as your vision slowly fades into black. With one last tired breath you close your eyes and let the warmth take over you.

When you wake up, you’re burning, and not in a nice way. You feel as if your skin is on fire and is about to melt off your bones. It hurts, painfully so and you make sure to vocalize your discomfort with a pained screech. You try moving your body away from the burning heat but your muscles won’t respond to your brain so you can do nothing more then just let out pained screeches as tears flow down your face. Faintly you can hear hushed voices trying desperately to soothe you but you’re too out of it to notice. With one last screech you black out, in the back of your head you feel as if you can feel a hand card through your hair.

When you wake up again, the pain is still there but significantly lessened. You can feel yourself lying on what you assume to be a mattress with possibly the fluffiest blanket you’ve ever felt on top of you. You try opening your eyes, the light took adjusting to but after a moment you are able to look around the room where you are laying in. Almost immediately you spot the sleeping form of Captain John Price, he’s leaning back in the old wooden chair he’s on with his mouth open in a soft snore. His hand is laying on your covered leg comfortably, he looks tired and worried like he hasn’t slept in a good while. You look around the room trying to figure out where you are before you make yourself known. With a small clearing of your throat Price violently jerks awake and stares at you for a moment before he moves into action,

“Jesus Christ you’re awake!” He states as he starts to worry over you. He gently takes his hand and puts it over your forehead, frowning at what he feels, he moves toward yours eyes. With a flashlight he checks your eyes and nods once before setting the flashlight back aside. Once he finishes his initial exam, he surges forwards and wraps you in a tight embrace,

“NEVER do that again, you hear me?!” He started firmly, his voice laced with clear worry and concern. You chuckle lowly and rasp out,

“My bad, next time I wanna take a quick dip in the pool I’ll wait until summer.” This obviously was the wrong response as Price fixes you with a firm glare,

“I’m serious [c/n]! Do you have any idea how worried we were! First, you were MIA for 2 hours! Then, you show up DRENCHED in −5 °C weather! And THEN, we find you face down in the bloody snow! [y/n] we thought you were dead!” He scolds. You look down with a light blush of shame tinting your cheeks but before you could apologize, the door slams open causing you and Price to jump. In rushes both Soap and Ghost as they storm over to your bedside. Soap grabs your hand and holds it to his face,

“Steamin Jesus kid, ye gave us quite the scare there.” He says into your palm, Ghost approaches his side and stares at you in worry,

“How are you feeling?” He asks. You open your mouth to respond when suddenly footsteps echo through the hall and Gaz comes barreling into the room.

“[c/n]!” He rushes to your bedside and pulls you into a tight hug,

“Gaz! Quit it! Ye gonna hurt the lad” Soap scolds immediately as Gaz pulls away sheepishly with a muttered apology. You take a moment to gather your thoughts before looking back up at the team you consider family.

“M’sorry” you mutter out, tears threatening to fall, “they- they came so quickly and and I tired to run but I couldn’t lose ‘em so I tried to cross the lake but then they shot at it and I fell in and itwassocold-“ your rambling coming to a stop when a firm hand lands on your shoulder. You look up to see Price, Ghost, Gaz, and Soap staring at you with an unreadable expression.

“Hey, hey kid. It’s ok, it’s ok. You’re safe now” Price soothes gently. “It’s gonna be alright we’re here.” He continues giving you a soft look. You nod looking at your shaking hands when suddenly clothed hands cover your own. You look at Ghost as he warms your still cold hands with his own, you feel a hand in your hair and smile as you lean into Price’s touch. Soap and Gaz bring up a chair next to your bedside and sit close to you, protectively shielding your body from further harm. With the team you consider family so close to you, you give into your quickly tiring eyes and fall into a deep, comfortable sleep.

[movetonet]

👀👀👀 age regression babbbyyy

age regression fic!!! this was probably one of the first fics i wrote post and then came june. it was me trying to do something ~wild~ and also soothe my insecurity that i couldn't write shorter fics before kinkuary rolled around.

the plot is: remember that blowout loss to the stars early last season? one of the first games i watched wow love my loser team. anyway that happens and in the middle of that game sid regresses to rookie year sid, before he met geno and obviously before he entered a long-term committed relationship with him. i have no clue where tf i was going with it now that i'm rereading it LMFAO except for something smutty probably. i don't think it's anything i'll finish and post so for a snippet you'll get everything i wrote for it!

The buzzer sounded, signaling the end of the period, and Zhenya let out a long sigh of relief. As hard as he tried, Zhenya was never one to temper his emotions. He was frustrated, and pissed off, and utterly gobsmacked by the first twenty minutes of this game—but so was everyone else, so he didn’t feel too bad for fucking sighing.

Zhenya plopped down into his stall and began ripping off his gear. Sully was already standing in the center of the room, a tight scowl etched onto his face. Sully was a stoic man most of the time. He had never seen him look like this before. Not after their string of blown leads in the third earlier in the season, or the third consecutive first-round playoff loss. Zhenya thought if Sully opened his mouth, fire would shoot from it like a dragon. Once everyone was in the locker room, Zhenya settled in for the verbal beat down.

“What in the fuck was that?” Sully began. “Did we all suddenly forget what we’re doing here? Did you guys pick up your fucking sticks and think, eh, I’m gonna take a night off tonight!? I’m just going to go out there and play like a fucking child—oh my God.”

Sully hadn’t yelled that last part. The sudden shift from anger to shock made Zhenya look up from unlacing his skates. Sully’s mouth hung open slightly, staring blankly across from him. Zhenya followed his line of sight and locked eyes with Sid.

Sid, with his damp hair sticking to his head, longer than it’s been in years. Sid, with his round cheeks dotted with acne. Sid, with the lips he hadn’t grown into yet pulled into a tight thin line. 

Zhenya gawked. It was Sid, except it wasn’t. It was a Sid he didn’t know. A Sid that existed in his memories as a kid wearing the number 9, singing the Canadian national anthem while he consoled a crying Sasha in his arms. A Sid he hoped to play with, while he was plotting to flee Russia. A Sid slightly younger than the one he shook hands with in Mario’s foyer.

It was, most importantly, not his Sid. The Sid he knew, the Sid he loved.

Zhenya heard the sounds of pads being torn off one to a sudden stop. After a moment, the fire in Sid’s eyes died and his face softened. His eyes darted around the locker room, blinking as they landed on face after face. Zhenya saw the realization dawn on him, his mouth falling open and his body tensing up.

“Oh,” Sid said. His hands dug into his tights. “I, uh—” His eyes found Zhenya’s, and Sid finally jumped up. “Evgeni Malkin?” he said, slowly.

Zhenya’s stomach dropped to the floor. 

“Uh,” Rusty said. “Did Sid just—um.” He cleared his throat. “I think Sid regressed.”

***

“You sure you don’t need any help?” Kris said.

The massacre of a game was long since over. They managed one measly goal in the second, but was there much of a difference between a 6-0 loss and a 7-1 one? Sid had stayed in the back for it, being watched over by the team doctors. Zhenya wanted to visit him during the second intermission but they refused. He was still confused, and anxious, and they were still trying to determine how much he lost.

A fucking lot, Zhenya wanted to tell them.

“How you help, Legend?” Zhenya said. “He’s not even know you yet.”

Kris frowned. “It’s close enough. What is he? Like, nineteen?”

“Eighteen.” He’d rangled some information out of Troy and Trina, who’d gotten to see Sid before Zhenya had. He wasn’t mad about that; parents would be easier to talk to than—a partner, one he hasn’t even met in person yet. Troy told him in a hushed whisper the last thing he remembered—the buzzer ending for the end of the second period, a 6-1 deficit against the Blue Jackets. Bugsy and Army got their shit rocked, he said. It was January 11th, 2006.  

Sid was still with his parents, now who were wearing matching faces of concern. Trina was saying something, and she pointed over at Zhenya. Sid’s head snapped over at him, his eyes wide like a deer in headlights. Zhenya didn’t know whether to smile at him, or to wave, so he back turned to Kris instead.

“Christ,” he said. “He’s like, a fucking baby.”

“You eighteen once too,” Zhenya said. “Still look as stupid as you do now.”

[aruanimess]

Round three, of me endlessly yapping on Reverse AU. I am still VERY new to this.. tumblr asking, notes and whatnot, so.. I apologise if I seem somewhat annoying and bothersome Anyway, less 'bout me, more on blondes! I'm going to try spitballing a few ideas there and there, because I don't have ONE big topic/arc to really focus on, so here we go!

1; Armin being captured after his identity is figured out. There are.. three way's of this going, in my opinion. >First, being that they managed to successfully take him down into the tunnels to capture him, possibly after some convincing by Annie, since he trusts her a lot? (Plus, if Armin sticks around to around S3 when they're all in that Cabin, hiding away from the Military Police and all. I think Annie and Armin would be.. somewhat awkward, between each other. Since, she cares for him, a lot and.. betrayed him.) >Second, same scene where his identity is discovered and remains at the top of the staircase, but more or less breaks down because he doesn't know what is right anymore, he cares for his new found friends, the thought of betraying them crushes his heart, so he gives up and surrenders peacefully. >Third, transforms and makes a run for the walls to dip, which could ALSO go multiple ways, but.. I don't really have much on that. 2; Warriors Reveal, though Armin is now in the midst of it. I cannot see Armin ever betraying Paradis Island and trying to capture Eren (a second time, mind you), now that Reiner decided to reveal their identites to the same bloke he tried capturing too - yikes. Armin could very well try making them surrender, in a subtle way so the situation doesn't escalate, nor turn his own comrades against him. So, he tricks them and everyone. Transforming along the other two to capture Eren, only to fight Reiner along with Eren but obviously ending in failure with Bert's Titan crushing them. On one hand, I think Bert would try getting Armin, though Reiner is too focused on the mission, he ditches Armin and makes a run for it.

3; Armin still gets captured by the Opaki, though he saves Annie from being the one to be captured by it. As fun and simple it would be if she was the one to be yoinked, so they couldn't use the power of the Colossal and rescue her, I decided to go differently with this. While Armin does end up getting captured, he isn't terrified that he can't protect his people, that they need him, without him he'll die. No, he's accepting his fate. They have Annie, they can still blow up the Doomsday Titan and they'll all be fine, he may die but will die at least doing something right for them, finally doing something useful after betraying his friends, and putting his life down on the line, as their Commander.

(I also agree he'd still be the next Commander that Hange would put the title upon, so.. it sorta means a lot, like he finally is one of them in some way? - I dunno, spitballing!) But, ahaa.. Yeah, that isn't happening. Annie is not letting that blonde go, despite they have a clear winning shot here, she is not about to let him die. Not now, there is still more to be said to him, with how she feels. So, the mission of saving Armin is once more! AND, to end it off, I like to think he'd still be suicidal and jump for the Parasite to hold it down along with Reiner, even if there's a chance of him dying from the Colossal's explosion.

I apologise having to read this entire shit-show of ideas in your inbox, I doubt I'll do more to not seem too big of a yapper, but we'll see! I hope everything is going well for you, have a wonderful day/night! Now, I depart. Toodles!

Hello, Rux!!

Please, never apologize for sending an ask! I absolutely love hearing your ideas and I’m very happy to know the reverse AU still resonates with people :D

Okay, now let’s see:

1. I do prefer the second scenario in the staircase scene. Armin at this point has nothing waiting for him back in Marley and as a character he generally prefers ending conflicts with talking rather than fighting so I believe he’d rather strike a deal and resolve this through diplomacy. 

2. Now for the Warriors reveal… we do have to consider that this scene occurs very soon after Armin’s own reveal. Like it’s all happening within three days tops. There’s always the possibility that he’s too busy getting interrogated within an inch of his life to even attend these events. 

Personally, I’m more curious as to whether Reiner and Bertolt would attempt to convince Zeke to launch an operation to “rescue” Armin at that point, or write him off as a lost cause. I think there’s potential for drama and bitterness in both cases. In the first scenario, you have a Reiner who fought to save Armin getting betrayed by someone he considered his friend, while in the second scenario, you have an Armin even more estranged by his peers in Marley, sad and disappointed they never even cared for him. 

3. Here you’re gonna have to forgive me, because I respectfully disagree.

While Armin and Annie would absolutely act the way you described in the event of Armin getting captured by the Okapi Titan, I don’t see why the Founder Ymir would bother to kidnap him. In canon, she only does so because he’s the Colossus and is the only one with the power to stop Eren. So I’m afraid that our girl Annie would have to be the one getting choked by that tongue… (well that was a sentence I’d never thought I’d write xD)

As for the Commander part… I don’t know. On one hand, I do see how meaningful such a gesture would be from Hange, accepting Armin as one of their own wholeheartedly. On the other hand, the idea of an outsider coming in to “save” the Paradisians from their plight and lead them to the truth makes me feel kind of uncomfortable. 

Personally, because I’m a useless bisexual with a one track mind, I’d love to see how Commander Annie could work. At the very least I’d like to consider the possibility of her assuming a leadership role. She’s not an out of the box thinker like Armin in canon, but she is very practical and very decisive when it comes to battle. In another world, raised alongside Eren and Mikasa and not as confined by her father and her circumstances, I can see her developing a keen eye for solutions, maybe not outrageous strategies, but clean simple yet effective and devastating in their consequences plans. She’s ruthless, she’s perceptive and she’s willing to give up her life to achieve her means.

Honestly? I’d love to see it explored.

[have-you-seen-my-sanity]

Never ever again

Moon boys x gn!reader

Marc and Jake got into shit once again and Steven had to experience what it felt like when they got drunk.

*C'mon buddy, stick it inside already. Can't be that hard!*

Steven stopped.

"Bruv, that sounded so dirty coming from you."

*Get the key into the lock...* Marc repeated, this time slower and more thoughtful.

Steven tried to unlock the door again, but everytime he had a perfect angle and pushed, the key slipped.

"Bloody- I can't believe I'm too drunk to unlock that stupid door."

*Dude, try it nice and easy, Stevo. Nice and easy.* Jake chimed in, his words came out a bit slurred.

Steven tried again and finally it worked!

He hoped you'd be asleep by now, he was already embarrassed enough by being the one fronting when they're drunk. Steven stepped inside, not knowing you were very well awake.

You were in the bathroom, getting ready for bed. As you left, Steven nearly got a heart attack seeing you walking out because he didn't realize the light was on.

"Oh fuck–" he jumped.

The sudden appearance of Steven made you suck in a breath and make an ungodly sound. "Shit! Holy fuck, Steven."

"Hiya." he made an apologetic smile. "Y're still awake?"

You let out a breath to calm down, smelling something strong coming from him. "Yeah. And you smell like you fell into alcohol." you pointed out, taking a sniff and making a face.

Steven sniffed on his arm, smelling the alcohol Marc and Jake consumed on their mission.

"It wasn't me, Marc and Jake are responsible."

You crossed your arms. "Oh. Typical. I know you could never chunk down gallons of alcohol like they can. You're a good boy." you smiled. "But seriously, you should sleep."

Steven couldn't help but smile proudly at how you called him a good boy. "Oh, I'm what now?" he somehow wanted to hear it again.

"You're drunk."

"Oh.." his face fell a bit, but he grinned lazily as he started walking past you, wanting to clean himself in the bathroom.

When Steven walked past you, your senses were overwhelmed by the smell of alcohol, causing you to cough out. "Oh god- oh my.." another cough came out and you immediately made your way to the nearest window to open it wide. You stood there, poking your head out to get as much fresh air as possible.

Steven soon came out of the bathroom, having stripped off his clothes and only wearing boxers now. "My head feels like I've been hit by a bloody train."

"What have you done in Cairo when Marc had his quality time with the scotch?" you asked, turning around to face him.

"Nothin', he was out the whole time, he just slept it off and took a pain killer the next day."

You nodded. "Alright first-time-drunk Steven, you should sleep."

Steven flopped down on the bed, holding his head. "Fuck my head's spinnin' I don't think I'll be able to sleep."

"Want me to get a bucket...just in case?"

Steven nodded. "That would be lovely, thanks."

You went to the bathroom, grabbing a washcloth and made it wet, then returned with the bucket and the cloth, putting it on his forehead. "Here, that should help you get sober quicker."

"You're the best." Steven smiled contendly.

You sat down on the edge of the bed. "Care to tell me what the fuck happened?"

Steven nodded. "Well, Marc was after this druglord or whatever," he flipped the cloth on his head to the colder side. "That guy invited him for a round of alcohol, Marc had to do it for cover. In the end Jake took over and killed everybody inside the room."

"Jake managed to kill people while being drunk?"

"Yeh."

"Alright Steven, you should get some sleep." you patted his shoulder.

Steven nodded, closing his eyes for a few seconds before he opened them again. "Oh shit, I think I'm going to–" he quickly sat up, getting out of the bed to make his way to the bathroom.

Making your way over, you gently knocked on the door. "You okay in there?"

Judging from the sounds you heard coming from the bathroom, Steven was not okay.

"Don't come in here unless you want to know what an atomic bomb smells like, luv."

As bad as you felt for Steven and as bad as you wanted to whoop Marc's and Jake's asses for putting Steven through this hell, you had to suppress a laughter threatening to come out of you at Steven's comment.

But a snort came out of you, and you wanted to punch yourself for it. "Sorry." you covered your mouth, trying not to laugh.

Steven went quiet inside the bathroom, you heard the toilet getting flushed. You turned to walk back to the bed.

"Oi!"

You stopped in your tracks.

"I swear I'll never drink again. Ever."

You snorted. "Tell that Marc and Jake."

Steven came out of the bathroom. "I'll never understand how they can drink such stuff. The hardest stuff I've ever drank was Wine."

He flopped down on the bed again, putting the cloth back on his head. "I feel like I'm close to dying."

You headed for the kitchen, grabbing some crackers, a bottle of water and something salty. "Then Marc and Jake have to be alcohol-immune zombies or something." you joked, setting the things on the bedside table. "Eat those, it'll help with your hangover tomorrow."

"Nah, I can't think of eating anything now. Just let me lay here and let nature reclaim me, would ya?" It was Marc now.

"Then tea?" you suggested.

Marc looked at you, making a face. "Ugh.." he scoffed. "Steven can have the tea."

"Coffee? Black no sugar, your usual?"

Marc removed the cloth from his head. "Yeah but no. I'll make it once I wake up." he mumbled, pulling up the covers.

"Hey where is Jake?" you asked.

Marc closed his eyes. "Jake's out cold."

You decided to let them rest, wanting to prepare the coffee. "I'll go make the coffee."

"Nuh-uh."

Looking back, you saw Marc still with his eyes closed, pointing a finger at you.

"What?"

"Don't you dare move a muscle." he mumbled.

"Huh?"

"Yeah you heard me. C'mere, plant ya ass down on this bed and sleep."

Marc can be a goofball when he's drunk and he knows it.

"But–"

"Ah-ah." he opened one eye, then the other, smiling at you. "Please?"

"Can't sleep alone? You?" you chuckled.

He shook his head, pouting at you.

You surrendered "Fine. But only until you fall asleep." you smiled.

He nodded, smiling.

You laid down next to him. Marc pulled you into his side, shifting into a comfortable position.

Marc fell asleep almost instantly, you followed shortly after.

Couple hours later, you stirred awake, feeling the bed empty. Sitting up, you spotted him sitting on the couch, eating the stuff you brought earlier for Steven.

"Getting sudden hunger attacks?" you rubbed your eyes.

"Yeah. I guess early hangover's kickin'." Steven was back.

You got up, making your way to Steven and sat down next to him. "How do you feel?"

"Much better." he smiled.

You smiled back. "You better stick to tea. It's better anyway."

"Yeah I will. Tea tastes much better anyway." He grinned.

You couldn't agree more.

[cantwritethetword]

That's Cheating

Fic Descript: During a training session, it's revealed that Miles is ticklish. Pavitr thoroughly enjoys the experience, and just when Miles thought it couldn't get worse, Miguel decides he wants to wrestle him. Surely Miguel wouldn't use Miles' weakness against him, right?

~ A/N - My first ever Into/Across The SpiderVerse fic !!!!

I absolutely adored these guys when they came on screen, and I finally have the fic idea to do their group dynamic justice!

By the way, this is also absolutely me being super self indulgent sdjsklhfkls cause I've had this whole scenario running around my head any time I'm training with these 3 specific people and it KILLS ME so I need to get it on paper lmao I'm so lee for so many of my wrestling friends it's not even funny jsdfhdfjhafk.

ALSO QUICK WARNING THIS IS A LONG ONE SDJHLKSDHAFLK ALL THE ONES WHERE I PUT ALL MY LITTLE LEE THOUGHTS INTO END UP SO FUCKING LONG LMAO APOLOGIES FAM IT'S LIKE ALMOST 3K

I hope it's good!

Enoy! ~

Tag List:

Masterpost Link 

Miles never turned down the chance to train with his fellow spider people. Since he first walked through the doors an was offered the chance to practice, Miles had grabbed the opportunity with both fists.

Not just because it was one of the few places he could properly use his skills and abilities to their full potential (without risking revealing himself as spiderman or injuring a civilian in the process), but there was something about training at the spider society headquarters that gave him almost limitless energy.

He wasn't sure how much of that energy was adrenaline, how much was power from the spider bite, or how much was just because he loved spending time with his favourite people.

But no matter the reason, this little quirk of his enabled him to continue sparring round after round when most would need a few minutes of reprieve between sets. And he would be lying if he said it didn't give him a little mood boost when the other spider people commented on his incredible stamina.

"Ugh, Miles do you ever get tired?" Pavitr groaned as he managed to flip Miles onto his back and clamber on top of the kid, pinning him to the ground. "We've been at this for like ten minutes straight!"

Miles grinned, his arms pushing against Pavitr's knees that were currently either side of his ribs to wriggle himself out. "You giving up already?"

"No way." Pavitr grunted, as Miles's movements had almost made him topple. "But I'll take a rest while you figure this out."

Pavitr, the asshole, decided to take this moment to shoot webs onto Miles's wrists - sticking them to the floor next to Mile's sides. Straining against the webs, Miles silently thanked the fact that it was Pavitr he was with. If this were an actual fight, Miles knew his face would currently be a punching bag.

But just because Pavitr wasn't going to injure him, it didn't mean there wasn't a threat.

"Come on Miles! Get out!" Pavitr teased, poking Mile's unprotected forehead.

The kid shook his head to try and get rid of Pavitr's annoying fingers.

Bad idea.

In the process of protecting his forehead, Miles had encouraged his friend to move his poking elsewhere. And it only took a few prods to Mile's neck for him to break into giggles.

"Agh- Pahahav-" Miles squeaked out before he could stop himself.

Pavitr stopped, an amazed grin across his face. "What was that?"

Miles froze for a second, realising just how severely his body had just betrayed him, before starting to thrash a little more desperately against the webbing trapping his hands.

"Are you ticklish?" Pavitr questioned with a teasy smirk, poking Miles's neck another few times.

"NO-!" Miles grunted, using every inch of willpower in his body to resist the laughter bubbling in his chest. "Don't!"

Completely ignoring Miles's pleads, Pavitr moved his prodding fingers down to Miles's collarbones.

And that was where the kid cracked.

"NOhohoho!" Miles squealed, shoulders trying their best to scrunch up and protect himself. "Pahahav stohohop!"

Pavitr beamed, absolutely ecstatic at his newfound discovery. "Oh my god, you are ticklish!"

"Shhhh!" Miles begged through his giggles, giving up on resisting his own reactions and focusing his efforts on preventing his ticklishness from becoming the newest piece of gossip.

"Why?" Pavitr laughed. "You're the one who's making all the nois-"

"What's this?" A voice chuckled from behind the two.

Pavitr paused his attack, and - after recognising who it was - Miles breathed a sigh of relief. Both because he could finally actually breathe again, and because the voice came from his old mentor - someone who already knew how ridiculously ticklish he was and hadn't told a soul.

Peter B, clearly having just finished a spar with someone by the looks of his flushed face and sweaty t-shirt, made his way to kneel down next to the pair before chuckling again.

"Ah, I see you've found Miles's little weakness."

Pavitr let out an indignant noise. "You already knew about this?!? And you didn't tell us?"

Peter shrugged. "Figured you guys would find out eventually, he's too ticklish to hide it for long."

"Peter!" Miles groaned. "Guys can we not talk about this right now!"

With a grin, Pavitr turned back to Miles. "Oh we can stop talking if you'd like..."

Before Miles could realise what Pavitr meant, ten fingers began tapping against the front of his ribs, and he was once again sent into a helpless fit of giggles.

"NOnononono Pahav people ahare gonna see!"

"Who would see?" Pavitr laughed. "It's just us over here; you, me and Peter."

"Plus Miguel, somewhere..." Peter added, looking around them for his friend. "But I doubt he's listening to your little situation kid, he's probably off doing Miguel things, as Miguel does."

Half expecting a beetlejuice moment at the three mentions of the guy's name, Miles flicked his eyes around the room (as best as he could - he was still pinned on his back) to try and spot Miguel. Thankfully, it seemed the slightly intimidating spiderman was too busy helping another pair of spiders with their match on the other side of the room.

"See!" Pavitr continued, digging a little harder into Miles's ribs. "Nothing to be worried about buddy!"

"IHIHIT'S STIHIHILL CHEHEATING!" Miles whined through his laughter, somehow managing to swallow the scream that almost burst out of his mouth at the sensation of Pavitr clawing into his sides.

"Ehhhhh..." Peter tilted his head with a grimace on his face. "Technically it's not, there's no specific rules against it."

Miles shook his head violently. "IHIHIT'S CHEHEHEATING!"

"You having so. much. energy. is what's cheating!" Pavitr responded, poking to emphasise his words. "But fine, let's ask Miguel."

Miles's eyes went wide, and his laughter turned to desperate begging. He couldn't possibly live through the sheer embarrassment of giggling like a child in front of someone as stone-faced and important as Miguel.

But no matter how many 'no's the kid strung together in rapid succession - a rather impressive display of his lung capacity to be completely honest - his pleading was fruitless, as Pavitr had already waved down Miguel, and the man was making his way over.

Thankfully there were a few seconds of rest until Miguel arrived that were completely tickle-free, so Miles had a chance to somewhat compose himself. Still, he knew that he would need much longer to reduce the redness his face had taken on in the last few minutes of torture.

"Yes?" Miguel said as he knelt down, one eyebrow slightly raised at the position the two boys were currently in.

"Is tickling illegal?" Pavitr asked genuinely, much to Miles's surprise. He was expecting some kind of teasy grin shot in his direction, but it seemed Pav was just as interested in Miguel's answer as he was in taking Miles apart at his fingers. Perhaps this wouldn't be so bad.

Even more to Miles's surprise was the quiet chuckle that escaped Miguel's mouth.

"Technically not, why?" Miguel responded, a small (but definitely present) grin on his face.

"Oh no reason..." Pavitr smirked at Miles (who was quickly realising he spoke too soon about how easy this interaction would be). "Just that I found out Miles was ticklish and wanted to try and see if he would submit because of it."

Miles could feel his face flush even redder than before, and he couldn't even cover his cheeks cause his damn hands were still stuck. So he resorted to rolling his eyes above his head to avoid looking at anyone for the remainder of the conversation.

Miguel once again let out a breathy chuckle. "Well, I haven't seen it happen before, and we're about to finish up the official training session... But we can always find out later."

That last comment snapped Miles's face back into Miguel's line of vision.

And, if this whole situation wasn't already flustered enough, Miles could have sworn Miguel winked as he stood up and called out to everyone to finish their current drill and pack up.

After chatting for a few moments with some of the other spider people, Miles watched as most of the group cleared from the gym. Aside from Miguel and Peter (who were practicing something on one side of the mats), the gym was practically empty.

Which made the sound of thudding feet all the more terrifying coming his way.

Miles yelped as someone tackled him to the floor and climbed on top of his hips.

"You didn't think we were finished, did you?" Pavitr grinned down at his friend, before digging his thumbs into the pocket right above Miles's hips.

"NOHOHO PAHAHAV!" Miles shrieked, caught so off guard he couldn't have stopped himself if he tried.

Pavitr laughed. "Glad we're on the same page then!"

"Stohohop ihihit!" The kid giggled, pushing at Pav's wrists - a much easier feat now that his hands weren't spider-webbed to the floor (but still not quite easy enough to push Pav's hands away).

With Miles now being able to fight back, there was actually a fight to be had. Still a very one-sided fight, but enough of a back-and-forth match to eat at Pavitr's strength.

And Pavitr's energy drained far quicker than Miles's did.

Keeping a very wriggly Miles consistently trapped and tickled was quite the challenge for India's favourite spiderman, so most of Pavitr's efforts were concentrated on Miles's hips. Certainly his hips were effective, but the hope of escape kept Miles going just long enough that Pavitr's teasy smirk started to fade into an open-mouthed grin (for maximum oxygen intake).

By the time Miles's breathing was wheezy, Pavitr sounded just as exhausted. Both boys were drenched in sweat, and neither were sure where their own ended and the other's began. Pavitr's thumbs slowed, and Miles was finally able to push those troublesome fingers away from his sensitive hips with one final residual giggle.

Letting himself breathe for a moment, Pavitr gave Miles's shoulder a friendly pat. "Damn you put up a good fight, I'm dead after that!"

Miles chuckled and nodded in agreement, still a little woozy from the post-tickle haze.

"You up for some food?" Pav asked, standing up and offering to help Miles to his feet.

"Sounds gr-" Miles began.

"Actually," Miguel interrupted the pair, making Miles freeze for a moment.

How long had he been watching them?? Had he seen Miles get absolutely wrecked?? Oh god, would Miguel ever take him seriously again after that??

Miguel continued. "Miles, want to have a round?"

That was definitely not the direction Miles thought this conversation was going. Thank god, Miguel must have only just finished with Peter. And now that he was looking, Miles could see a (somehow even more) sweaty Peter gathering his stuff and heading out of the gym.

Perfect. Miguel hadn't seen a thing.

Miles nodded, slightly intimidated with the idea of attempting to wrestle someone as experienced as Miguel, but keen to try (and perhaps get a little closer to the reserved leader of the Spider Society).

"Excellent." Miguel gave a small nod, and positioned himself in the centre of the mat.

"Well, good luck." Pavitr smiled, clapping Miles on the back before heading out towards the cafeteria.

Miles took a breath, calming his racing thoughts and tired lungs, before moving to face Miguel.

The pair moved slowly to start, attempting a few takedowns and swings at each other but not fully committing to any, before Miguel swiftly spun to the floor and knocked Miles straight off his feet.

God it was frustrating that Miguel could do that with so much control that it almost seemed to happen in slow motion.

Without even letting himself catch his breath on the floor, Miles tried to scramble to a crouched position, but Miguel was either too quick or predicted his movements too well.

One moment he was almost to his feet, the next Miles was flat on his back with the side of Miguel's chest pressing against the front of his. One of his arms was trapped at an outward angle by Miguel's hand, but Miles couldn't quite see what was going on past that with Miguel's back in the way.

Then Miles tensed.

A soft but unmistakably sharp sensation was gently tapping at his side, enough to fill Miles's chest with tickly anticipation but not so much that he was convinced that was what was happening.

Surely not. Surely Miguel was far too mature for something as childish as tickling.

Still, as Miles struggled to escape Miguel's hold, he struggled even more to contain the laughter threatening to spill out of his mouth at the tickly sensations radiating from his side.

"Mihi- Miguehel?" Miles strained, trying to keep his voice as steady as possible.

Miguel chuckled, and spoke with possibly the teasiest voice Miles had ever heard come out of his mouth. "What's the matter?"

Oooh that motherfucker. Miguel knew exactly what was happening, Miles could feel the smirk radiating off Miguel's face. And somehow that made it significantly harder for the poor kid to control himself.

"Whahat- Wahait- Mihiguehel-" Miles stuttered, giggles already peppering every word he spoke.

"Pavitr wasn't kidding..." Miguel hummed, his claws switching from tapping with all four talons to scratching a single finger up and down every-so-gently. "You really are ticklish."

Miles whined (though it came out sounding more like a laugh), his hips trying to squirm away from the tortuous feeling. "No, noho no no Miguehel plehease-"

"And I was curious what he was saying about submitting you just by tickling..." He continued, bringing back the rest of his hand to softly claw against Miles's lowest ribs.

Even that gentle sensation brought Miles almost to the brink, his eyes practically popped out of his head and a stream of uncontrollable giggles flooded from his mouth. How the hell was it already tickling this badly??

"Mihihi- Mihihgue- Nohoho stohohop!"

"Huh." Miguel chuckled again, god that sent shivers down Miles's spine every time it happened (which really wasn't helping). "Already that bad? What about if I do this?"

The agonisingly slow clawing turned to full-handed squeezing up and down the soft part of Miles's side, and Miles shrieked. As if waking a sleeper agent, his brain seemed to suddenly (and conveniently) remember he had two arms - and only one was stuck. Half punching his opponent in desperation, Miles thudded his free hand against Miguel's back to try and push himself out.

"NOHOHOHO MIHIHIGUEHEHEL PLEHEHEASE!" He begged, legs kicking wildly without reason or result. "STOHOHOP!"

Miguel paused, lifting his head and turning it as much as he could towards Miles (only being able to see the kid from the corner of his eye). "Is that you tapping out?"

Whilst momentarily catching his breath, Miles paused. On one hand, he was rather close to death, and wasn't sure how much more of Miguel's teasing he could handle. But on the other, there was something almost precious about seeing such a weirdly personal side of the stoic man. Should he submit, and cease the frankly torturous situation he had found himself in, or should he push onwards, hoping Miguel would eventually show mercy if Miles actually needed him to (though at this stage, it was hard to say he wasn't slightly enjoying the playful interaction).

Eh, Miles was always a stubborn kid. And he was proud of it.

"Nohohope!" He shook his head, bracing himself.

Miguel gave a surprised scoff. "You really do have a ridiculous amount of stamina, huh."

Miles tried to grin cockily, though even he knew it probably looked more like a nervous invitation for Miguel to continue.

And continue he did.

Like a switch had flipped, Miguel launched his clawed hand into a rapid tickle-assault against Miles's entire torso. Within seconds, every inch of the kid's sides, ribs, stomach, and hips had been poked and squeezed and vibrated against before Miles even had the chance to react. The sudden zero-to-a-hundred spike of intensity caught the younger superhero completely off-guard, making him squeal at a pitch he genuinely didn't think he could each anymore.

"NOHOHOHO MIHIHIGUEHEHEL!" Miles cackled, twisting and writhing under his attacker.

Miguel gave a surprised laugh at the increased movement. "Hey, you asked for it kid, not my problem."

"NONONONO IHI CAHAHAN'T!"

"Ok, Ok..." Miguel playfully rolled his eyes, not that Miles could see (or really pay attention), and released the kid from his grip.

Miles flopped both arms over his face, covering his burning cheeks, and laid there for a few moments panting. Miguel chuckled, reaching to give the kid a few sympathetic pats at whatever body part was closest to him.

Seeing a hand move out of the corner of his eye, in the general direction of his stomach, Miles yelped and curled away from it in a mess of giggles. "Nonono plehease, I'm dohohone!"

Giving the final laugh of the interaction, Miguel grinned at the kid. "So there is a way to tire you out... I'll keep that in mind."

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Black Light 5

Warnings: namecalling, violence, other dark elements. Proceed with caution.

Note: Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

"Look," you put your fist up, recalling what Hottie told you, "I don't wanna but I will defend myself."

August's blue eyes pinpoint on you, dropping to your fist and running back up to your face. He lets you go as he tilts his head and you're shaken by the deep rumble that rises from his chest. He's laughing.

"You'll defend yourself?" He muses as he tucks the flashlight into his pocket, "as much as I could use the entertainment... go get your friend and get out."

You frown and slide your phone out, checking the screen as he backs away. You see her message. Sent ten minutes ago.

"Uh, sir," you call after him, "she's upstairs. Could you maybe help me? Otherwise, I could get lost."

He stops and rolls his eyes, letting them drift back to you.

"Alright, well, then you can't blame me if I stick around a bit long--"

He storms forward and grabs your upper arm. He turns you and marches you out of the barroom to the staircase. He shoves you ahead of him and trails closely behind you. You grasp the railing and his knuckles snap across your ass, "hurry up."

"Hands to yourself," you yelp over your shoulder but do as he says.

You get to the second floor and he grabs your forearm, hauling you forward with him as he looks around. You feel tiny next to him as he searches above the heads of dancers. He sighs and you look to your left as you sense a flash on the floor. Odd.

You see a shining rectangle at the end of the hall. You check your phone, straining with one hand to open the chat. No reply. You text again, "where are you?"

The light flickers and you try to pull away from him. He grips you tighter, "where do you think you're going?"

"Down here," you say.

You point and he reluctantly lets you free. You scurry ahead of him and go down the hall. You bend and pick up the phone, seeing your last message on the it before it goes black again.

"Oh!" You wave it at him, "it's hers..."

You look to the side as you hear a thump against the door there. Your eyes round and you glance back at August. You hold the phone with yours in one hand and try to turn the handle with your other. The door doesn't budge.

"Um, a little help," you back up and face him.

"It's a coat room--"

"So! Open it!"

He squints at you and his nostrils flair, "Don't tell me what to do."

Still, he turns and puts a hand on the handle, the other flat on the door. He pushes once, then bolsters his strength and tries again. As he does, there's a noise from the other side. You hear Hottie cry out. He lets go and kicks the door, revealing her as she claws and kicks at the man trying to restrain her.

"Get him!" You holler.

August doesn't move. You stand awkward as Hottie manages to free herself and staggers out. You latch onto her arm and pull her close as the bouncer watches the other man. The stranger is unfazed as he comes to the door and fixes his jacket.

"Interrupting my fun," he sneers.

August considers him and angles a brow. He peeks at you from the corner of his eye. Then he looks at the man again, "you can't make a buck fucking sluts in the coat room," he jams his thumb towards the end of the hall, "go."

The other man scoffs and glances at Hottie with half a smirk, "really, dude, we were just getting into it."

"I want my cut. You keep bringing in dimes and I won't let you in anymore. So scram."

The man huffs but leaves. You stand in confusion as you cling to your friend. She glares at her attacker and you have to hold her back from following. August blocks her as he shifts to block you both in.

"Now you, and you," he jabs his finger in your face then hers, "you leave my club and don't come back."

"Fuck off. You're gonna let him hang around and--"

"He makes money. What do you do?"

She jerks away from you, reeling her fist back, but you keep her from swinging. You put your other hand out at August as he tenses and you chuckles nervously. You insert yourself between them.

"It's cool. Everyone. It's cool," you smile, "we'll go. Just don't hurt us."

"Get out of my way. This guy deserves it--" Hottie jostles you.

"Please," you keep in front of her, "please... I wanna go."

She stills as August flicks his brows up in victory. You give him a sheepish look as you sidle towards the wall with Hottie behind you.

"We'll just be..."

"Oh, I'll make sure of it," he clamps onto both of you, an arm in each hand, "I better not see either of you again."

[dramalets]

2024 watch list part 5

The Rebound - This is a fun pulp but not a lot more. It didn’t really seem to know what it wanted to be and suffered for that in the end. The ending is ass. 3/5

HIStory 4: Close to you - Trope city. I enjoyed the non brother husband pairing in this and also the friendship between the three elder leads was a lot of fun. This really comes with so many TWs though so be careful before you watch. 3/5 (13/8/24)

Ossan’s Love - You will like this or you won’t and I don’t think there’s an in between. Fortunately I loved this. It’s not a taxing watch but it does manage to pack character depth and heart into every inch of story. Haruta is a gentle soul with zero like skills and Maki is a mature but troubled younger counter. It’s very Japanese and you’ll like that or you won’t but I think it’s worth a go. 4/5 (14/8/24)

This love doesn’t have long beans - If you like Pon & Sailub then this is very enjoyable. But if you don’t know them then it’s mostly a paper thin plot and some sex. A good brain off fluff watch or if you’re looking for Mame style horny but without the trauma and rape. 3/5 (23/8/24)

We Best Love: Fighting Mr 2nd - Like with the first one I just found it fine. The chemistry of the leads is very good and they sell the show really. Zero idea what that nonsense with the second couple and their various MH disorders was. I’m really not a fan of slapping disorders onto characters in place of actually giving them development. 3/5 (26/8/24)

4Minutes - I was glued to this right from the start. It’s a BoC production so it’s beautiful to look at and the acting is high quality. This’ll be a fantastic binge watch for anyone looking for an excellently acted, well done sorta sci-fi. I’d have given this a five but I thought some stuff felt very rushed and we could have either done with a ten episode block or less time spent on one characters 4minute t/l. 4/5 (13/9/24)

The Trainee - Much like, another recent OffGun show, Cooking Crush this show was much more about its characters, and their personal development and progress, than it was about the romance of the two leads. For the most part I enjoyed this but it also felt like it didn’t quite stick the landing. I’m a big proponent of slice of life style stories this wasn’t really quite that but it also wasn’t a heavily plotted rom-com style story either. This was really just about community, self-esteem and personal growth. The cast in this were all round incredible and the intern friend group were absurdly easy to love. 3/5 (15/9/24)

Sunset X Vibes - Let’s be real; you watch this for MosBank and that’s exactly what you get. MosBank. This isn’t 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘵𝘦 as forgettable as Big Dragon but it’s close. The first half is fun and then it realises it’s run out of plot and just sort of doesn’t know where it’s going and adds some great kissing. The sub couples are sort of fun. But they were so sporadic in characterisation that they were sort of impossible to fully enjoy for anything but nice kissing. As with Big Dragon this was fine and I enjoyed it but I can’t really tell you anything much about it apart from MosBank. 2 ½/5 (15/9/24) (Also there’s heavily implied mpreg in the special episode. So that’ll be enough for this show to live on in fanfic.)

To My Star - I’m very hit or miss on KBL. Often it veers to melodramatic for me. This definitely is maudlin and a little depressing but it isn’t over dramatic so is a more tolerable kind of melo for me. Overall I did enjoy this, its leads were absorbing and enjoyable to watch. I do think a little more could have been done to establish them falling for one another as it did feel a little quick. 3 ½/5 (18/9/24)

Mr Mitsuya’s planned feeding - Just lovely. Couldn’t have come from anywhere but Japan and it’s beautiful for that. Carefully examines age, status and how hopes, dreams and wants shift as those things change. You’ll be okay with the age gap or you won’t, there isn’t anything predatory here it’s just a sweet age gap romance. 4/5 (22/9/24)

The On1y One - Absolutely perfect slow burn. Examines the fleeting nature of youth whilst serving us an achingly sweet, slow burn love between two young boys. Don’t watch this if you don’t enjoy slow but do watch this if you enjoy excellently crafted characters and beautiful cinematography. 4/5 (25/9/24)

You are my lover friend - This is a thirty episode het friends to lovers cdrama and I loved every bloody second. This wasn’t bogged down with stupid dramas,to stop ML & FL getting together, instead it was just a realistic look at all the reasons it’s very hard to go from very best friends to lovers. All the side cast were excellent there was a clear overarching plot weaved into the romance. I just loved it. 5/5 (6/10/24)

[venusvity]

.ﾟ۪ ♡ ۫  ...     PRE-RELEASE SINGLE - DRAMA!

DRAMA is one of two pre-release singles for VENUS' fourth full studio album. DRAMA will be promoted for TWO WEEKS until the next single is released.

.ﾟ۪ ♡ ۫  ...     MUSIC VIDEO AESTHETICS.

The DRAMA music video received 45 MILLION VIEWS in 24 hours and would remain number one on the Youtube trending page for 6 days. The video follows the girls through a technicolored cyberspace as they fight against a virus only known as "DRAMA" which is depicted as a dark and rapid-moving shadow.

.ﾟ۪ ♡ ۫  ...     DRAMA LINE DISTRIBUTION.

.ﾟ۪ ♡ ۫  … BAEBI = 28.20 SECONDS

.ﾟ۪ ♡ ۫  … BLISS = 19.26 SECONDS

.ﾟ۪ ♡ ۫  …  CHLOE = 49.15 SECONDS

.ﾟ۪ ♡ ۫  … SENA = 17.29 SECONDS

.ﾟ۪ ♡ ۫  … JIAH = 38.12 SECONDS

.ﾟ۪ ♡ ۫  ...     PROMOTIONAL HIGHLIGHTS.

The girls were promoting DRAMA consistently for two weeks. For a solid two weeks, the girls were at music shows or other schedules promoting their upcoming album, which they revealed the name of at the end of their promotional period for DRAMA.

The album is called "VENUS VICTRIX" and will have 11 tracks. The creative direction for the album will be handled by long-time VENUS creative director Adrian Reyes. This differs from their last comeback, Burn The Witch, which was fully controlled by Venus themselves. While on Knowing Brothers, Chloe admits the girls experienced a lot of stress from handling all aspects of the album. "It was too much. We would be up until 5 AM almost every night trying to get everything to work, and we agreed that for this album, we want more rest!" which earned laughs from the hosts and from fans alike.

During an episode of "Visting Venus," they had Adrian come on to explain the lore of the album to them in a classroom-like setting with the girls at desks and him at a chalkboard, pointing with a stick and aggressively writing with a red piece of chalk.

"It's basically, like, Venus' Victory. The girls are trapped in a harsh cyber world but manage to break out and transform the landscape into something habitable," Adrian would explain, drawing a loosely thrown-together professor-esque outfit and round specs. Klara, drawing a school uniform and thick-rimmed classes, would raise her hand. "And how will we break out from this world?" "Easy," Adrian starts, pulling down a projector screen that has three big words on it in comic sans font, "Dance, music, and friendship."

The video was a massive hit with fans and had them on the edge of their seats waiting for the album's release.

Though they gave it their all at every performance, it was clear the girls were tired and being overworked. In most vlogs, you'd often see members sleeping on one another during their breaks at music shows or expressing how sore they were from all the performing they were doing. The Venus members, with the exception of Klara, would assure fans they were fine and liked working especially. Klara, however, would go on to post a singular mirror selfie of herself at 3 AM on her Instagram story with the caption, "just got back. can't wait for my powernap before i have to go back lol" but the story was quickly deleted and followed by a video of the maknae laughing and apologizing.

"That was meant for my close friend. My bad, my bad! Stop worrying. I'm just complaining! I swear to God if y'all mass email Flowerbank I'll have a tantrum. Don't worry about me!"

While this moment went viral on stan Twitter, constellations couldn't help but to worry for the girls. However, their worries were seemingly quelled once they got another stage of DRAMA to entertain them.

.ﾟ۪ ♡ ۫  ...     LOOK BOOK.

.ﾟ۪ ♡ ۫  … LEFT 2 RIGHT: BLISS, BAEBI, CHLOE, SENA, AND JIAH

The girls wore wigs during their promotions, concealing their actual hair colors. While sometimes the wigs looked natural, especially Sena and Jiah's, there were times when the wigs looked straight from Party City. Due to their status in the industry, people called this style choice "camp" and praised them for it.

YOU CAN GET YOUR DRAMA PHOTOCARDS HERE!