#i just wanted ice lol whoops

[butwilltherebealcohol]

Roommate: hey bud.......how ya doin?

Me, head down on table, 4th whiskey on ice in hand, earbuds blasting music loud enough to hear from the other side of the room: why wyould u even ask im obviously perfectly fine. thriving.

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Snow Bunny | Azriel x Reader

Summary: After the bat boys enjoy their annual snowball fight, in which Azriel wins, he gets the best prize of all, a night alone with his mate.

Word Count: ~1.8k

Warnings: Smut, fingering, p in v penetration, nudity, violent snowball rock assault (rip cassian), and tooth rotting fluff.

Minors, do not interact!

A/N: This is my first attempt at writing smut, so go easy on me lol, was just in another feening-over-azriel mood and needed to write, hope you enjoy <3

Requests are open!

It was a cold winter, though all of the winters in Night Court were cold. Compared to Illyrian winters, Azriel supposed that they weren’t too bad. Illyrian winters had everyone shivering and shaking and doing anything for the littlest bit of warmth. Night Court winters usually yielded a bit of snow, maybe a foot or two if the Mother was feeling generous, for the children, or in this case, grown Illyrian males, to play in.

The annual snowball fight began as usual, they built their snow forts, packed them densely, or at least Azriel always did, and went to work making snowballs.

He would admit that using his shadows to make snowballs for him did seem like cheating, but who is he to not use his resources?

Rhys and Cassian went head to head first, predictably, and after hurling snowballs densely packed at each other as hard as they could, their tanned skin was left tinted red and a few bruises. The killer blow was when Cassian hurled a final one at Rhys, and this snowball was packed full of ice in the center.

It knocked the High Lord straight out.

Cassian let out a whoop of victory, but a bit too early, as Azriel then launched a massive snowball with a rock in the center at him, payback, and a guarantee of victory apparently as Cassian then collapsed backward on the snow with a soft groan.

Both Nesta and Feyre came out, not too worried as they were very used to their mates’ shenanigans. Feyre helped drag Rhys into the house, while Nesta fought with Cassian, who was mumbling about how he was “perfectly fine”.

“Really…’m okay, jus’ a few more minutes..”

He mumbled, clearly out of it. Nesta grabbed his legs and began dragging him away.

“You are going inside. I am not letting you die because of a snowball fight of all things.”

Her stern tone rang out, dragging him into the house after Feyre managed to get Rhys inside. Azriel followed soon after.

*********************************************************

You went to the door to drag Azriel back inside but were instead met with the sight of him entering, and you ran smack into his chest. You shuddered slightly at how cold and wet he was. His lips were chapped, crusty, and dry. You pulled your tube of lip gloss out and applied a generous amount on his lips, before leaving a kiss on his forehead.

“I’m assuming you won?”

You asked in an amused tone, glancing over at Cassian and Rhys being dragged away by their mates. Azriel chuckled, the deep sound sending a thrill through your body, before replying with a little smirk.

“Yes, per usual.”

You rolled your eyes playfully.

“Quit being a cocky bastard, and let’s go get you in a hot bath. You’re freezing.”

He gave a little huff of laughter at your quip, before following as his mate dragged him off to their shared bedroom. Your intentions were far from pure, and you wanted much more than a bath, but only if he was willing to provide that. He might be tired.

“Are you sure you want me to take a bath?”

He asked, a knowing glint in his eye as he pushed the door to your shared bedroom closed, locking it painfully slowly, ensuring that the noise would echo through her brain and rattle it.

He began slowly stalking towards you with a predatory, feline grace, his wings flaring behind him in what you could recognize as a symbol of both dominance and desire. Even his shadows seemed eager, slithering up your body as far as he allowed them, their cool touch both soothing your skin and causing goosebumps to rise.

“Maybe a bath isn’t so necessary.”

You said, your voice more feeble than you’d like it to be, swallowing as you sat on the edge of your large bed, with him moving to stand right in front of you and look down at you with nothing short of a lover’s gaze.

“Good. I love our annual snowball fights, but do you know what I love more..?”

He asked in his rich baritone voice, smiling slightly as he pushed you gently back onto the bed, settling over you as he let his hands roam your soft, warm body. His hands went from your thighs, back up to your hair and face, then back to your inner thigh as his leg nudged your knees to open.

As any sensible person would do, you spread your legs for him easily. You'd gotten to a point within the mating bond that submitting to him was as easy as breathing.

“..No, what?”

You asked, your voice wavering slightly as your cheeks flushed, watching him with wide eyes. The arousal in both of your scents could easily be detected. His hand stopped around the waistband of your pants, tugging them off, and the rest of your clothing was soon to go.

Eventually, his large hands began palming your breasts, rubbing your nipples between his thumb and pointer finger. He leaned down near your ear, prolonging his answer as long as possible to build your curiosity and the tension before he spoke.

“My mate.”

He answered simply, his hot breath fanning against your ear, before his mouth moved down to latch onto one of your pert nipples, alternating between swirling his tongue around it and sucking. The sheer dominance and possession in his statement made your desire pool as your heavy breathing turned to light mewls and moans, whining to him.

His mouth then switched from your right nipple to your left, continuing his sinful sucking, before separating with a little ‘pop’ as he smirked up at you.

His hand had trailed down to his leathers, unbuttoning his shirt before pulling it off, if only to give you a little taste of the eye candy he truly was beneath his clothes. One hand reached down to your panties, and ran a finger over them, nearly purring in delight.

“Already so wet? I must've put on quite a show tonight.”

He murmured against your chest as one of his fingers hooked around the waistband of your panties and tugged them down, before throwing them onto the floor with the rest of your clothes. His fingers slid through your wet folds, before beginning to playfully taunt your clit, rubbing just enough for some pleasure, but never enough for any real friction.

One of his fingers slid over to your slit, gathering all the slick that waited there for him, and he coated his fingers in it before slipping it in, easily going knuckle-deep.

“I’m gonna stretch you out, okay? Gonna get you ready for my cock.”

He said with a small smirk in a soft, almost whispered voice, that had deep currents of lust and desire running not far under it. Soon, one finger turned into two pumping in and out, curling into that delicious spot while you whined because of the stretch. The whines soon turned to moans and begging him for more.

“Az, need more..”

You begged, your hips already starting to buck on instinct and try to grind against his fingers.

“I’ll give you more in due time, darling.”

He replied simply. And then a third finger was slipped in, his thumb still running sinful circles and applying just the right amount of pressure to your clit. In no time you were already slipping so, so close to the edge, and he let you get there, rubbing faster and harder until you fell apart around his fingers with a cry.

His fingers continued working you, prolonging your pleasure as much as possible before slipping out when the high had ended. However, you could hear the sound of his leathers slipping off, and when you opened your hazy eyes, you saw a glimpse of his cock, throbbing, the tip pink and leaking, begging for attention. He stroked himself a few times, hissing at the feeling, before running it through your folds thrice to get it soaked and ready.

“Ready? Take a deep breath for me and relax, darling.”

He whispered softly into your ear, and you could feel his tip prodding at your entrance before slowly inching in. No matter how many times you took him, the sheer size of his dick always managed to surprise you.

The stretch immediately took over your senses, making you whine against him. It was a mixture of pleasure and irritable pain that you didn’t want to admit how much you enjoyed.

After what felt like hours of soft, whispered reassurances and praise of how good you were doing for him, and how warm and tight you were, he had finally bottomed out. You immediately jerked your hips against him, breath leaving you at how delicious it felt.

“Please move, Az. Need you to.”

You said, your breathing already shaky. You weren’t going to last long, and from the way he was already groaning and throbbing in you, he wasn't going to either.

He pressed himself against you, beginning a slow and steady rhythm as he moved against you, groaning lewdly into your ear. His place turned to sloppy, loving thrusts as he just began going with instinct.

“You gonna cum with me, sweet girl? Yeah?”

He asked in a breathless tone, panting for air. The moment you hit your climax, your walls clenching and throbbing around his cock, letting you feel every particular inch and vein as it moved inside of you, he also came, thick ropes of his seed shooting deep into you, both of your moans and groaning making a chorus with the sounds of wet squelching and skin slapping skin as he painted your insides white.

You both just laid there for a moment, content to enjoy the afterglow, and as soon as it came down, Azriel was there for his usual godly aftercare.

“Bath?”

He asked, voice raspy and somewhat gruff from all his noises. You gave a wordless nod, and he picked you up, carrying you over to the bathtub and starting a warm bath, easing both of you into it.

He knew your entire haircare routine to the smallest details, and his shadows, still a bit pouty that he hadn’t let them participate in your session, seemed eager to help as you felt their cool touch against your scalp, then moving on to wash your body with your favorite scent of body wash.

You washed his hair, scrubbing shampoo in, then washed out and followed by conditioner, before the shadows helped you clean him off. A few of them helped ‘clean’ his very sensitive cock, causing Azriel to hiss at the feeling and tell them to stop, which only made you and the shadows giggle.

When you finally got out of the bath, you didn’t bother to put on any clothes, and neither did he. You enjoyed the moments of bare skin-to-skin contact with him.

Curled up in the bed, laying beside him with your arms around him, one of his arms around her waist, and his wings curled protectively around you, you whispered something to him.

“I love you.”

You whispered, voice soft and a bit raspy from earlier. He opened one eye, peeking at your serene face, before whispering back with a smile on his lips.

“I love you, too.”

[raplinesmoon]

Breaking The Ice (KNJ x F!Reader) - teaser

pairing: hockeyplayer!namjoon x f. reader

genre/au: ice hockey au, college au, roommates au / smut, fluff, slow burn

rating: explicit/18+

summary: after last season, namjoon knows he can’t afford anymore mishaps. when you show up on namjoon’s doorstep looking to share his apartment, he thinks it couldn’t be more perfect. medical school has you even busier than he is, but what happens when what used to be the perfect arrangement turns into a bigger distraction than either of you bargained for?

word count: 911 for this teaser

warnings: clumsy Joon, injuries, lots of swearing, Joon gets a boner, OC is pretty and way too nice

a/n: *taps mic* is this thing on? happy Joon day! (i hope i made the deadline). I remembered I had this sitting on the bench (get it lol) as a scene from my wip for the 🏒on ice: for the boys collab that was announced a long time ago! I decided to spruce up this little scene and publish it, even though the final fic is nowhere near complete. This can probably even be read as a standalone (a cute moment between roomies)! I hope you enjoy this piece and happy bday again to Joonie! credits for the banner go to @joheunsaram!

You okay, Namjoon-ah?

Namjoon wants to deck Kim Seokjin and his stupid pretty boy smile into the boards just for asking, when that motherfucker knows he’s at fault for Namjoon’s current state. He feels a painful twinge in his side, sucking in a sharp breath. Practice had barely ended before Namjoon was hobbling out of the arena, the rough-housing that normally accompanied Bangtan’s practice going a little too far today.

When he sees the steps of his building come into view, he nearly wants to sob with relief. Cursing, he stumbles up them, skipping two at a time in the hopes that it’ll get him up and able to faceplant into the couch faster. Knowing his luck though, he’d probably eat his words and end up with his face straight into the ugly grey shag carpet instead.

As he limps down the hallway, he’s struck by dueling aromas – the earthy, nutty mellowness of freshly brewed coffee, and the warm, spicy cinnamon scent of cinnamon. Both coming from his door, propped open slightly, where he can hear the faint lilt of classical music escape. 

Anatomy must have been whooping your ass again.

Namjoon takes special care to slip inside quietly, wincing when he puts weight on his knee. He glances down to see that it’s swelled to an alarming size. Fucking Seokjin.

He knew he should have probably gotten it checked out by the team medic. Yoongi’s nagging is already echoing in the back of his mind, reminding Namjoon that if he wanted to be clumsy, he had to stay on top of his injuries. For the sake of his team.

But somehow getting his limbs checked by a crusty old guy who was past the retirement age didn’t seem nearly as exciting when there was you. 

You who always wore the comfiest sweats, ones he was half-tempted to steal from your closet. You and your penchant for always looking for a pen, when you always had one tucked behind your ear or in your hoodie pocket. You and your stress baking, winning the adoration of his teammates (Stupid Seokjin and his flirting), but most of all him. Your damn cinammon rolls were worth every extra minute he had to spend in the weight room keeping them off.

“Hey Joon, I was just finishing up the cinnamon rolls, they’re on the cooling rack— what happened?” Your smile falls when you take him in, knee as red as his jersey, and a nasty cut under his eyebrow, skin turning purplish underneath.

Namjoon thinks he might pass out, either from the pain or from the way your face falls in disappointment, and the plush cushions of the couch seem like a great place to bury his head into right now.

He’s given a few quiet moments to stew before he feels a soft tap on his shoulder. Lifting his head up, he swears when your face nearly collides with his, noses bumping with such force that you have to take a step back, rubbing gingerly at the bridge.

Great fucking impression you’re making on your pretty roommate, Namjoon. She’s totally into getting clocked in the face. The little devil on his shoulder must be having a ball right now.

“Fuck, ___, I’m so sorry, fuck–”

“It’s okay, Joon, I know you didn’t mean to. But we only have the resources for one injured party in this apartment, yeah?”

Namjoon feels his face heat, not sure if he’s just embarrassed or you’re too close close to him. His eyes nearly bulge out of his head when you pick up his knee, studying it with a furrow in your brow.

What a day to decide to wear grey sweatpants. His dick-print was so happy with him right now, and he silently prays that your eyes remain downwards.

“We need to wrap this up. Give me a sec and I’ll help you.” 

Is he dreaming, or does your face look a little flushed? If you notice his boner, he’s happy you don’t say anything, humming softly s you disappear into the hallway, rummaging around in the closet for the first-aid kit.

You re-appear moments later, a roll full of medical tape in your hand, and you’re back to prodding at his knee again. Namjoon sinks into the couch, body relaxing at your gentle touch.

Only to jolt a few seconds later when he feels something cold hit his aching joints, nearly whacking you a second time. God, he had to be more careful.

“Shhh,” you put a finger to his lips, and Namjoon’s breath catches in his throat. “Gotta put some ice on it.”

“You should really increase your fees, doc. I’m pretty sure at-home care isn’t included in the job description.”

Is he flirting? Fuck, okay he’s flirting. He’s doing this.

“Maybe I like knowing I’ll always have a patient who keeps me in business,” you wink, fingers lingering longer than necessary on his knee when you finish wrapping it. Your hands move next to the cut underneath his brow.

“Now what are we gonna do with you?”

Oh fuck, abort, abort mission! Namjoon shoots straight up, grimacing at your shocked gasp.

“YouknowIjustrememberedIhaveanassignmentdueatmidnighttoday! I should really go work on that!”

You say nothing as he limps into his room, smiling widely at him the whole time. Namjoon collapses on his bed, groaning into the pillows.

Maybe getting banged up wasn’t so bad after all. Not when he always had you around to patch him up.

a/n pt. 2: As always, any comments or feedback are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi <3

[her-power]

beg (joseph quinn x fem! reader)18+

warnings: language, strong sexual content, lots and lots of making out, bathroom fool around. It’s not that explicit (edit: it’s horny, whoops lol, there’s an unexpected belt restraining 😵‍💫) it’s playful, funny, but minors, stay the eff away.

summary: you run into JQ at a karaoke bar (I know, there’s a theme with these 😂) and drunkenly tell him that you wrote smut about him. he begs you to show him and he’s very…interested.

word count: idk, lots of words 🫠

You were drunk.

You didn’t mean to get this drunk, but there was something about the energy of a karaoke bar that made you want to get loaded. You had just finished singing Bohemian Rhapsody, and had received a roar from the crowd of people who sang along with you, and lots of clapping. Your friends wanted you to sing more, but you needed a break. And some water. You saunter over to the bar, asking for a glass of water which you chug down. Probably not the best idea, but you were thirsty, and it felt like it was thousands of degrees in the building. You took three ice cubes out of the glass and pop them in your mouth, cooling yourself down.

“Your Freddie Mercury dance moves was quite impressive.” A soft, English accented voice reaches your ears and you glance up at the man standing next to you. You gasp, an ice cube sliding down your throat causing you to choke a little. His eyes are wide and he’s almost laughing. “I’m sorry, didn’t mean to make you choke.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You manage to breathe out.

Joseph fucking Quinn was standing next to you.

“I’m sorry, that was rude, hi…you are…wow. I must be really drunk cause there is no way you’re standing next to me.” You suppress a giggle and he chuckles.

“Nope, I am a real.” He leans against the bar, twirling his beer bottle. “You good? No more choking?”

“Uh…” you laugh, blindly searching for the bar stool which he scoots behind you and you sit. “Need to sit down for this, why are you in the most rural part of town at a hole in the wall karaoke bar?”

He laughs. “Been filming a movie the next town over, got some nice beaches down this way. This seemed like a good place to be unrecognizable.”

He meets your eyes.

Gods, he was beautiful.

You blush and look away. “Came to the right spot, it’s dim, dreary, smells like piss and shame. I don’t think my friends know where I went.” You glance around the bar, spotting your friends sitting at the table in the corner, drunkenly crying. Yeah, sitting right here feels much better than that, you think.

“My favorite kind of place.” He giggles. “What are you drinking?”

“You…NOPE…wow. Intrusive thoughts won, I’m so sorry.” You put your palms over your face and he laughs loudly. “Ughhhh, this is not happening. I’m making a fool out of myself in front of such a beautiful man. I used to be so good at this.”

“I think you’re being pretty adorable.” He says close to your ear and you almost yelp. He giggles at your behavior and you tell him you’ve been drinking bourbon all night. He orders you a drink and your hand shakes as you bring the rim to your lips.

“Easy, love. You don’t need to be nervous around me.” He nudges you with his shoulder and you relax a little.

“How do I know you’re not like Ted Bundy? Hmm?” You smile at him, taking a sip of his drink.

“Do I look like a serial killer?”

“Ted Bundy didn’t.” You counter and he smiles.

“Touché, but no, I’m not here to kill you.”

“Oh yeah? What are you here to do to me?”

Foot. In. Mouth. You’re gonna make him leave, you’re gonna make him go away by just being a fucking creep.

“What do you want me to do to you?” His voice is low, and your heart beats rapidly as you stare at him with your mouth hanging open. He smirks at you, gently taking his finger and lifting your chin to close your mouth, and winks.

“Oooookay…we’re flirting. This is…okay. Why do I feel like I’m in a setting of one of my stories?”

“Stories?”

Fuck me.

You groan. You need to learn to stop talking to yourself in public, because shit like this happens and you spill secrets you’re not supposed to spill. “Huh? What? No…I mean…nothing, it’s nothing.”

“Friends don’t lie.”

“Oh we’re friends? You don’t even know my name.”

“So tell me.” He turns towards you, your elbows are touching and his eyes are staring deep into yours, they subtly glance down your form and then meet your eyes again. You bite your bottom lip, smiling and tell him your name. “Okay, now we’re friends.”

“I’m not telling you what I said.” You laugh, sipping your drink. He looks at you shocked and the way he moved his head back was comical, you choke on your drink again.

“That is very rude and not fair.”

You roll your eyes. “Fine, I wrote a story about you awhile back.”

He points to himself and smiles. “What kind of story?”

“You don’t wanna know.”

“Oh but I do.” He slides your bar stool closer to him. “Whisper it.”

He’s so close to you, you can smell his cologne and the subtle aroma of beer on his breath. You just stare at him, not answering him. “It’s naughty isn’t it?”

You look away from him, and blush. He gasps excitedly. “Show me!”

Your eyes widen. “What?! No way! It’s embarrassing and it’s horny.”

“Even better.”

“No.” You lean into him and smile. He groans, draping his arm over the back of your chair.

“What do I have to do to get you to show me?” His mouth is so close to yours. You wondered what his lips felt like. You had imagined it, clearly.

“Beg for it.” You smile and he laughs.

“Is that what I do in your story? Beg?”

A tingle forms in your belly at the way he said that and you blush. “I’m just kidding.”

“What if I’m not?”

“Okay, you need to settle down.” You laugh, playfully pushing him away and he giggles. “Can’t believe I’m flirting with you right now, this is insane. I have to pee…watch my drink.”

He smirks, sliding your drink next to his and placing his jacket over the back of your seat. Your legs immediately start shaking as you make your way to the bathroom, your friend Stacey is coming out of the bathroom as you open the door.

“Hey! We’re going, do you need a ride?” She asks you.

You glance back at the bar. “No, I’m okay. I can take an Uber home.”

“By yourself? I don’t know if I feel right about that.”

You gently pat her face. “I’ll be fine. I don’t really wanna share a ride with you all crying about what happened on Love Island.”

She laughs. “Shut up, I know. I hate myself too. Okay, please text me when you get home. Don’t go home with any strangers.” She kisses your cheek.

“Yes, mom.”

Ha, if only she knew.

Although, was he a stranger?

Yes, dumbass.

But, a highly known stranger.

Not in the middle of nowhere USA.

You push open the stall door, quickly do your business and wash your hands. There was no one else in there with you, and you took a minute to look over yourself in the mirror. Your cheeks were flushed from the embarrassment of telling him you wrote a sex story about him, and also the fact that he was so…flirtatious and sexy. You adjust your high waisted jeans and pull your black cropped tank down. As of lately; you have grown to love your body and its shape, but you were suddenly feeling self conscious sitting next to a celebrity.

The door to the bathroom opens and you glance up in the mirror.

There he was. Smiling. Comedically tip toeing into the bathroom, locking the door while you stand there stunned.

“What are you-“ His hands are on your waist in a flash, and his soft lips press against yours, sweetly, gently. His hands go into your hair and a sigh escapes you, you almost fall backwards but he wraps his arms around your waist tighter, holding you to him. Your hands go to his chest, and you gently push him back, your lips falling away from each other with a smack. Your eyes dart back and forth from his eyes to his lips and he’s grinning at you.

“I’m sorry, I just couldn’t wait any longer.” He tells you and you still cannot find words.

He was a good kisser.

Maybe you could show him your story, but that could wait. You wanted to kiss him again, so you did. His tongue glides into your mouth and you groan, pushing your body against his, bumping into the wall, almost falling over the trash can. His hands find your thigh and squeeze gently, lifting you up delicately and your head slams against the automatic paper towel dispenser.

“Ow!” You laugh loudly as the paper towels come out behind you, vroooooom.

“Oh shit I’m sorry!” He pulls away from your lips quickly and holds your head. You laugh, holding his face and kissing him again. He smiles against your lips, his hand grips your waist and you sigh, moving your hands over his back, down past his ass and you pull his waist flush against you. He groans against your mouth, and lifts you on the bathroom counter. You didn’t care how gross this counter probably was, you just wanted to be close to him. He pushes himself between your legs and you could feel his hardness through his jeans. His lips find your throat and you gasp when he gently bites on your sensitive skin. His hand glides up your soft skin, over your bra and your nipple hardens as his palm grazes over your breast.

“Mmm…we should…stop…” You whisper against his neck.

“Do you want me to stop?” He whispers, his tongue flicks out over the vein at your throat and you moan, clawing at his back.

“No…but…not here…somewhere else.” You gasp.

He pulls away from you and smiles sweetly, kissing you again and helps you down from the counter. You unlock the door, surprised to see that no one was waiting to kick you guys out and as you exit the bathroom he takes your arm and pulls you to him, kissing you deeply. Your back hits the wall and you smile against his lips, his hands fisting through your hair.

“Yeah, get it girl!” A woman says as she makes her way to the bathroom and the two of you pull away laughing. You take his hand and take him to the outside patio, you patted yourself down to make sure your phone and wallet was still in your jeans. You find a vacant picnic table and sit on top of it, shaking the nerves out of your hands as you stare up at him. He smiles, his dimples showing and you blush.

His hand cups your face and you lean into it, he kisses your lips softly and sits down on the bench beneath you. You smile, opening your phone and go to your word document app. He lights up a cigarette and you cringe, holding the phone towards him.

His eyes light up. “Is this it?” And you nod. He giggles, his eyes scanning the first few paragraphs. “Wow, you’re a really good writer…oh…” he meets your eyes, his wide and playful. You blush looking away from him and he laughs, his hand gently squeezes your knee. “This is…horny.” His hand squeezes your thigh and you have to suppress a moan that is about to escape.

“He puts his mouth on your…whoa…whoaaaaa…” he meets your eyes again, his face is flushed. “It’s hot, is it hot? I’m sweating. If I read anymore I’m gonna take you on this table.” He hands the phone back to you and you giggle, covering your face with his hands. He stands over you, the cigarette dangling from his lips. You take it from him, inhale on it, and pull his face towards yours.

“Breathe in.” You tell him, as you exhale and the smoke comes out, your lips barely graze and he inhales, stepping back a little letting the smoke glide out of his lungs.

He blushes and smirks at you. “That was in there wasn’t it?”

You nod, biting your lip, handing him the cigarette. He smiles large, snuffing the cigarette out in the ashtray. He moves towards you, curling a piece of hair behind your ear. “You wanna get out of here?”

You stare into his eyes and nod. He grins, and as you’re about to open your Uber app he puts his hand over yours. “No need, I have a driver.” He nods to the back parking lot and you see a black livery car with a driver in the front seat. “Just tell me where to go.”

So, you tell him the direction to your house. You had snuggled up against his chest on the car ride, his hand softly rubs your shoulder and you pull up in front of your apartment building. He tells the driver to head back to the hotel and will call when he needs to get picked up. He follows you up the stairs to the second floor and you turn on your lights. You shut and lock the door, blushing again.

“Why do you keep blushing?” He teases, gently cupping your cheek.

“Because you’re in my apartment and have been kissing me all night.” You sigh. “And I’m confused on why out of all the beautiful women in the bar, you sought me out.”

“Well, none of those other beautiful women could sing Bohemian Rhapsody like you did.”

You roll your eyes. “If you were ten minutes earlier you would’ve seen my rendition of You Oughta Know.”

He laughs. “Now that would’ve made me beg for you.”

You’re not even all the way into your apartment before he’s kissing you. He practically drags you blindly into the living room and into the wall. He pushes his body against yours, kissing you deeply, his hands going over your belly and up your shirt. You gasp, gripping onto his forearms as he kisses down your chest, pulling your shirt over your head. His lips glide down your stomach until his on his knees, licking just above the button of your jeans and he pops the button. He gazes up at you, and your head falls back against the wall as he pulls your jeans down, and you step out of them. He grips your thighs, kissing them softly and his hands caress your backside. He pulls down your underwear and your entire body trembles, and you groan as his mouth goes on you like he was starving. You grip at his hair as he feasts on you, still pinching yourself because there was no way this was real and that he was doing this to you in your apartment.

His fingers glide inside you as he continues his feast, and you moan loudly, your body almost sliding down the wall but he holds you up with his free hand. He tells you to come in his mouth and your entire body reacts to his voice and how he curls his fingers deeper inside you. You tense up and you scream in pleasure loudly, holding onto the wall for support as you clench around his fingers and he moans against you. He pulls his fingers out of you and glides back up your body, kissing you passionately. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and he lifts you, you direct him to your bedroom and pushes open the door with his foot and he falls backwards on the bed, taking you with him. His hands move up your back as he kisses you and unhooks your bra, it falls down your arms and you toss it to the ground, straddling him and he bites back a moan as you scoot yourself back, pulling off his jeans. He sits up quickly, pulling his shirt over his head and you run your hand over his slightly toned tummy, crashing your lips against his. You couldn’t wait any longer for this, you end up pulling him out of the hole from his boxer briefs and you immediately lower yourself down on him.

A broken moan escapes you as he fills you up and his head falls back against the pillows. You rock your hips against him, your body trembles as his lips catch your nipple in his mouth and he gently bites down, you gasp loudly.

“Do you want me to beg?” He groans and you whimper as you rock your hips faster. You moan, a soft laugh escaping you and you nod. You move off of him, moving up his body like a snake and you kiss him deeply. You take his hands, holding both of them above his head, reaching down to take the belt you had on your jeans. His eyes light up and he giggles.

“Oh, we’re doing this.” He says with a chuckle, biting his lower lip.

“You’re an actor.” You smirk, wrapping the belt around his wrists and attached it to the bars on your headboard. “Act.”

“What if I’m not acting?” He clasps his hands together in the restraint.

You smirk, gazing down at him. “Even better.” You meet his soft lips, straddling him, and you could already tell he was getting frustrated because he couldn’t touch you. Your hand glides down his abdomen, over his hips and over his length. His lips buck and his eyes flutter close, a soft sigh escaping him.

You kiss his chest gently, running your tongue over his nipple and he groans. You meet his lips again, grinding your hips against his and reach down to touch him, you grip him hard and then stop.

“Please.” He whispers, almost whining.

“Please what?” You ask, smiling against his cheek, taking his jaw in your hand, turning his head to look at you and a seductive laugh comes out of his mouth with your forcefulness.

“Keep touching me.” He says, moving his face to kiss your lips. “I’m begging you.”

You grin, wrapping your hand around his length and fist him slowly. You lean down to kiss his neck and he moans as your hand picks up speed and his body is arching. “Let me fuck you.” He groans, struggling again. You meet his eyes, gently kissing him as your other hand reaches up to untie the belt from the headboard. His hands come down so fast, the belt goes flying and he’s taking your face in his hands, his tongue sliding into your mouth as he forces himself on top of you. He hooks your leg around his waist and pushing himself inside you hard. You moan loudly as he rolls his hips, the sensation of his speed and his pelvis grinding against you was causing you to feel so many different things at once. His noises were loud and so were yours, beautiful harmonies of two feral beings just needing to feel something.

Your orgasm was approaching fast and he could feel it too, so he slows down. Rocking into you slowly, gently, his lips soft against yours. His hands gently go through your hair and you didn’t know what was hotter: him taking his time with you or how animalistic he was moments ago. A whimper escapes you as you feel your orgasm approach, his breath was hot against your lips as your head falls back, and you’re holding onto his back as you come, this orgasm so much more powerful than the last one and he comes soon after you. His sounds deep, raspy, beautiful.

He lays with his head on your chest, catching his breath and you run your fingers over his hair. He looks up at you, cheekily grinning. “Now, that was a smut story.” He laughs loudly as you giggle, pushing him off of you and he falls to the floor with a thud. His head pops up as he looks at you, a mischievous smirk on his face.

“Now it’s your turn to beg.”

the end

[mci-writing]

heyy~ may i habe, hcs nsfw of senku, tsukasa, and gen fucking their s/o in the kitchen? like senku you guys fucked up something and waiting on an order, tsukasa takes you while youre making breakfast or something, and gen uses cream from a pastry youre making to lick it off your body? thank you ily i hope i did this right lol.

This has been years in the making, huh?

Sexy Kitchen Times (w/ Senku Ishigami, Tsukasa Shishiou, and Gen Asagiri):

TW: smut, modern/no petrification/post petrification au, small bit of bondage in Gen's part (he ties reader's wrists to the bedpost), no beta whoops, overstim in Senku's part, Tsukasa fucks his s/o next to a still hot stove 🤷🏾‍♀️

Ishigami Senku:

You had tried warning him from the get-go that substituting the recipe's ingredients with chemicals from his lab would be a horrible idea (esp when he pulled his Bunsen Burner seemingly out of thin air), but nooo he wanted you to trust the science process bc he was more than 1 billion percent sure it would work

Now you were standing in the middle of a nearly destroyed kitchen while ordering from the noodle place down the block, sending your lover a glare he knows a little too well when science experiments that involve you go horribly wrong

He hugs you from behind after cleaning up most of the mess, burying his face in your neck as he pulls you closer to him

This was what your friends deemed the affection maneuver, a move Senku only makes when he knows he might be sleeping on the couch for the night

"Y'know, it's so sexy when you get mad like this, dragonfruit" He'll teasingly whisper along the shell of your ear, pressing soft kisses into your skin while his fingers rub sensual circles into your hips

And for the moment, you completely forget about the kitchen debacle when his lips meet yours, turning you in his hold and helping you settle on the counter. He tugs your top off between kisses, nipping at whatever skin he can reach while his one of his hands happily move to fondle your chest

And, like always, it ends with you riding his cock (bc his stamina maxed out smh), your hands gripping onto his thighs for dear life as his tip nudges at a certain sensitive spot while he times the delivery guy through calculating the speed of your rocking and the pitch of your moans, who is definitely 10 minutes late this time

Your brain is mush by the time the food does get there, Senku happily coaxing orgasm after orgasm out of you with a sweet "Just one more? So I can make it up to you?". It's the closest he can get to you forgetting the whole conundrum and he gets to watch your face shift in overstimulated pleasure

He does still sleep on the couch later that night, but it's only for a couple minutes before you cave and make him eat you out as payback (which you both know is just going to lead to a round of competitive sex, but I'll mind my best)

Asagiri Gen:

You'd already had an idea this would happen when Gen kept making innuendos about the glaze you'd made for your donuts earlier in the day, but a part of you wasn't really taking his words seriously until he'd told you to wait on the bed

I mean, you couldn't really go anywhere with your wrists tied to the bedpost, but you could hear the small happy pep in his step as he made his way back to you with the icing bag nuzzled snuggly in his hold

"Baby, look what I've got," He eagerly coos as he towers over your body, setting his knee beside you as he slides in closer on the bed. He holds the tip over your lips, squeezing enough for a little bit of the sweet concoction to spill out.

After your tongue swipes the small bit away, he gets to work setting a small dollop on each of your sensitive parts, stopping to admire his work once he finishes

He ensures that you've been licked clean of any stick sweet residue by the time he's finished, keeping track that you're thoroughly prepped before nestling into your welcoming heat

And he happily covers certain areas of your body with the cream again before fully allowing himself to go to town, enjoying the way his cum mixes with the sugary substance on your skin

Shishio Tsukasa:

"Ts-Tsukasa..." You manage out in an airy tone, tightly gripping the counter as the head of his cock nudges at your entrance. The small sounds you make as he pushes the head all the way in only make him smirk

He leans forward as he pushes fully inside, taking the time to cut the stove off before his hand softly grips your hips and drags you back against him.

"You shouldn't have teased me so much," He softly states into your ear, tugging on the lower back tie of your apron so it hangs freely from your body by the tie around your neck. His right-hand moves to grab at the plush fat of your ass, a smack sounding as he brings his heavy palm down and squeezes as soon as he gets a good grip on it

He easily slides in and out from the perfect combination of spit and lube, the tight hold on your hip allowing him to push and pull against you as he pleases

Each spill of his name from your lips only encourages him to go faster, the breakfast you'd been hard at work creating forgotten with each deep thrust he made inside, stars clouding your mind

[melrodrigo]

Tardy, part 11

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11

Tara Carpenter x Fem Reader

Summary: It’s time for you to face Ghostface head on.

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: Pretty gnarly violence, Tara being protective and kinda batshit crazy, betrayals left and right

A/N: lol

Shit.

When you open your eyes and see nothing but a hot blinding light, you think you might've died and gone to heaven.

"God?" You whisper, blinking slowly.

It was in fact, not god, you find out once your eyes properly adjust.

You're stuck in a tiny compartment; so small you think you might suffocate. The walls are painted a shade of obsidian black that makes you feel like you're stuck in a black hole. Only one single flickering lightbulb grants you sight.

Your arms are sore; so sore, and it only intensifies when you try and pull them up from the weird position they're in.

Huh, I can't move my arms.

You tug at the rope-like fabric of material that's holding your hands together. It doesn't budge in the slightest. Panic rises like wildfire in you.

You breathe deep. Try to gather your wits and make sense of anything that is possibly going on.

"Get it together." You remind yourself.

You blink once.

Feeling a little more clear, you realize that you're strapped tight to a chair, back pressed uncomfortably close to the ridges.

Where am I?

There's no time to find the answer to that question since the wall is moving- oh it's a door-, and Ghostface appears right in front of you, smiling.

Well, you don't really know if he's smiling. But the way he's moving, all confident and cocky, makes you think you're not too far off.

It hits you all at once. Now that you're fully conscious, you can feel everything.

One inhale and your lungs feel like they're on fire. Breathing is hard.

You groan, the pain all too overwhelming for your brain to work properly. It would be embarrassing how loud you were if you cared in the least.

You can only seem to think of one thing.

"Where is she?" You ask, with all the confidence of someone in the position of interrogating Ghostface.

Tara. God, what did they do to Tara?

“Of course, your first words are about her." Ghostface spits, still using that goddamned voice modulator.

“Where is she?” You spit, trying your very best to look intimidating.

It's not very convincing when you're heaving and gasping like a fish out of water.

"Would you believe me if I said she was already dead?" Ghostface drawls, tracing their knife along your jawline, pressing just enough for you to feel it.

You scoff.

"Right...you'd kill one of your beloved 'main characters' before the finale." You say, sure you've read him to filth.

"But, this is the ending. Don't you see?" He continues to tease, unbothered by your last comment.

You huff, but you feel your heart picking up speed slightly.

What if...he was telling the truth?

A shrill scream sounds throughout the theater, and you feel your blood run cold as you recognize exactly who it is.

"Tara." You breathe, half terrified and half relieved she's still alive.

"Tara!" You yell, as loud as your lungs are willing to let you.

Tara doesn't reply. What you do get is a smack to the head and an elbow to the jaw.

"Be quiet." Ghostface hisses, and you can almost swear he sounds sort of scared.

"Be quiet or I'm going to get my ass whooped." He mumbles, and you pull back as far as you can, eyebrows raised.

You bite back the need to tell him you definitely don't care if he gets in trouble or not, not wanting to get slapped in the face a billion more times.

"Come on." He grumbles, gripping the back of the chair and lifting it up swiftly.

The feeling of your feet dangling off the chair reminds you of one of your favorite memories.

"Mint ice cream sucks," Tara tells you definitively.

You squint your eyebrows at her and bring up a hand to your heart like she's just stabbed you.

She's sitting with her ice cream in hand, a good distance away from you. You guys peer down at all the university students walking around, now the size of ants; trying to point out people you guys recognize.

It was your own little secret spot. Tara could never really go study outside uni, since her sister was always up her ass about traveling unknown spaces. You never asked her why, pure sister protectiveness, you guessed.

A couple of weeks into knowing Tara, she'd brought you up to this mini garden haven of hers, all shy and smiley.

She's sitting now and she's looking so pretty with her big brown eyes and freckles out for display. They shine bright today, sunshine illuminating her face and making everything just pop the slightest bit more.

You get a wicked idea, and before you can stop yourself, scoot yourself closer and place your arm around her.

Tara cocks an eyebrow at you, but before she can speak a word, you start tickling her sides.

"Stop!" Tara squeals. Her face turning a bright pink comically fast.

You're careful not to tickle her too hard, or else you think she might just slide off the ledge and fall right here.

You're close now, closer than you should be. Tension swims in the air. You lean down to whisper into her ear.

"That's what you get for saying mint sucks." You huff, smirking a little as she shudders from the feeling of your breath fanning her ear.

When you pull back and look into her eyes, you're surprised to see them wide and dilated. She has a weird expression her face, like she's fighting something in herself.

You lean in slowly, stuck in a trace with the way she's looking at you.

She grips your shirt and pulls you in further, your noses brushing. And then suddenly, like she's just snapped out of her daze, she sits up abruptly.

She laughs nervously, letting go of your shirt.

"I think Sam's calling me. I'll see you tomorrow. Same time?" She's saying, but she's not even giving you a second to answer before she's sprinting away.

Despite the sort of failed kiss, you chuckle a little. You feel the blush creep up to the tips of your ears.

The day your crush on Tara Carpenter officially started.

It's a bad time to start daydreaming, but you figure if you're going to die right now, it wouldn't be so bad to think of the love of your life while you go.

The sound of Tara's voice brings you back to life.

"YN!" She gasps, from somewhere behind you. You're still getting dragged, hair stuck to your forehead, eyes blurred.

You try your best to blink everything back to focus.

She's standing on the platform slightly below you, beside Sam, looking relieved. There's a brick in her hand.

You try and say her name but all that comes out is a painful groan. Everything feels heavy. Your shirt is painted red where your stomach wound is, and you figure you must've ripped the stitches.

There's another Ghostface beside you, the two of them bracketing you on either side.

Not that you would have the energy to up and escape anyway.

"Tara..." Sam warns, eyeing her sister like she knows what she's about to do.

Tara rushes forward, ignoring Sam's protest, trying to get to you. To hold you in her arms, to press her hands against your wound, to kiss it better; to do anything.

The Ghostface to your right swings their knife as soon as she comes into the vicinity, and slices the skin above Tara's collarbone easily. She gasps from the jab. Red liquid seeps out immediately.

You feel the Ghostface to your left tense, a mixture of a gasp and a yell stuck together.

"Anika wait-!" The Ghostface is saying, the name slipping out as easy as second nature.

Everybody stills.

It's so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

The other Ghostface whirls around, shoulders tight.

Sam tugs Tara back quietly, looking between the two Ghostfaces. Your head is swimming.

"What did you say?" Ghostface- supposedly Anika, says.

"What the fuck." You manage to spit out, but it goes unheard, everyone being laser-focused on the scene unfolding right in front of them.

"I'm sorry- I'm sorry I didn't mean to say that. It's just, I thought you were going to kill Tara. I couldn't let you do that." The other Ghostface reasons, albeit unconvincingly. He stumbles over his words, in a tone that's all too familiar to you.

"Ethan?" You hesitate, tears brimming in your eyes.

The Ghostface that's hovering above you drops down to your ear level, whispering softly.

"Well, aren't you just a smart little thing?" And promptly slides off that wretched Ghostface mask, and even though you knew, you have to gasp at who you see.

Anika.

Sweet sweet Anika.

"Just take it off. It's not like they don't already know." Anika tells Ethan, an order more than anything.

You tilt your head just enough to see Ethan take off his mask, grinning nervously.

"What the fuck?" You hear Tara say, but it sounds so far away.

"But, but how-" Sam starts, pointing at Ethan, her face as pale as a ghost.

He looks good, healthy. More alive than you've ever seen him. There's a glint in his eye you've never seen before.

"I'm alive. Surprise!" He grins, flashing the four of you a pearly white smile.

I must be dreaming.

You squeeze your eyes shut. He's still standing there when you open them again. Shit.

"But I watched you die, I felt the blood. You-you died in my arms. I saw the ambulance pick you up." You splutter, voice cracking unevenly.

"You know...some fake blood and a couple of acting classes can do wonders. You guys really are not good at picking up on hints." Anika sing songs, waving her dagger in the air.

"Seriously...we even had to send you a note." She continues, scrunching her nose in disgust.

"Why are you doing this? Why are you so hell-bent on destroying us?" Sam asks, fire in her eyes. She looks scary. Messing with Sam was one thing, but messing with her sister? You have a feeling they'll be dead in minutes.

Anika sighs dramatically, putting a hand up to her chin and feigning thought.

"Gosh. Where do I even start? Let's set the scene: it's 1996. There's been two mysterious murders in the small town of Woodsboro, leaving everyone in fright." She recounts, words slipping out of her mouth with ease like she's rehearsed them a million times.

Sam rolls her eyes, fed up with this godforsaken story that seems to follow her anywhere.

"Akio Kayoko however, lives happily, because finally his two bullies Billy and Stu aren't on his ass anymore. They have more important things to worry about."

Sam cuts in before Anika goes any further.

"Are you fucking kidding me? This is all because what, your dad couldn't handle a couple wedgies? Are you a little daddy's girl?" She says, fed up.

Anika shoots her an icy glare, but continues.

"You don't even know what you're talking about." Anika tells her, voice lowering to soft and almost sorrowful.

"Poor dad, he just had to go to that party. Do you know what happens to a person when they go through something traumatic? It changes them. He came out the only bystander that survived, but not without a scarred face and a scarred soul to show for it." She murmurs. She turns suddenly, a new pep in her mannerisms.

"Your father," she points at Sam accusingly, "and your father," she points her knife at you, "fucked my dad up royally. He got diagnosed with severe depression and bipolar disorder from it. And for what?" She seethes.

"Your guys' fathers are just racist assholes. You deserve everything that's coming to you, don't you even doubt it for a second!" She sneers, with so much venom and power that you can't help but agree.

You open your mouth to say something, anything, try to explain that you aren't your dad, but Anika beats you to it.

"Did you know he left me? I still remember it like it was yesterday. I was 6." She tells you, voice getting softer. Your heart tugs for her.

She straightens up, as if just realizing where she was, and her icy facade once again builds up.

"Anywho, motive enough for you Sam?" She tilts her head up, eyes bright.

Sam stands scarily still, but you can see the concern swimming in her eyes.

Ethan's standing wide-eyed like this is all new information to him.

"It really wasn't that hard getting you two to meet. All I had to do was invite Tara to that party and just give YN a little bump so you two would talk." Anika continues, and you furrow your eyebrows. Party? You met Tara at a party?

Your eyes dart to Tara and she's looking at you a little solemnly, and suddenly it hits you like a truck. Memories that have never been unlocked before replay in your mind now. The angel from that party.

That was Tara.

"After that, everything just fell into place. You guys are one pathetic predictable group of people." Ethan pipes up.

"The friendship, the night you got stabbed, it was all planned. I mean, why do you think I took you back to the apartment? For Anika to "stitch you up?" He asks excitedly, looking at Anika for approval to speak further. She gives him an annoyed nod.

"And guess what the best part is," He giggled midway, but gains his composure again. "Every time she came to fix you up, she actually poisoned the wound. Never too much that you would notice- but enough to guarantee your death today. It's infected." He cheers, like he hasn't just told you you're going to die.

"Jesus, you never told me how bad it was," Tara says, making your eyes dart back to hers, trying to catch her gaze to inadvertently say your sorry, but she doesn't meet your eyes.

"I didn't want you to worry." You sigh.

Ethan makes a noise of disgust. He looks at you with scrunched eyebrows, a little crinkle of his nose betraying his chill facade. His gaze shifts to Tara, and you can't help but notice his voice move just a pitch higher.

"Poor Tara. Caught in this sick twisted web between your sister and your girlfriend. You didn't even do anything wrong right, baby? Don't worry...nothing's going to happen to you. I've made sure of that." He tells her, and it hits you all at once.

"Baby? What are you talking about? " Tara asks, cocking her head to the side.

"I love you, Tara. I did all of this just for you. When the both of them are dead, you and I can get together. Finally." He says, between deep breaths.

You don't know how you never saw it before. Memories of the prior weeks flash in front of your eyes.

His heart eyes for your girlfriend every time the group would have a movie night and you two would cuddle, the weird lingering around the both of you whenever you'd go out.

You just figured he really liked your company.

"You're out of your mind you sick fuck. Tara would never date you, even if you were the last person on earth." Is what Sam says, and despite the consequences of what's sure to come, your heart sings.

Last person on earth.

Ethan stutters, like he never thought of the possibility that she would reject him. You see tears forming immediately, frown apparent. He's trying to keep it together- you can tell.

He leans back slightly, dejected. His eyes cloud with something you can only describe as hatred, and for a scary moment, you think he seriously might jump at Tara.

However, he doesn't get the time to act on his thoughts, because in less than a blink of an eye Anika's moving over and stabbing him in the neck.

"Agh!" He grunts. A trickle of blood runs down the side of his mouth, then it bursts. So, so much thick crimson liquid gurgles out.

Anika stands behind him, sliding her knife out his back, wiping the blood clean.

"Gosh, what a bore he was, right? True love this true love that. I couldn't listen to that shit any longer." She gags, leaning over to stick her tongue out at Ethan's lifeless face. She stabs him again in the jaw for good measure.

She looks back at the three of you, who are clearly aghast.

"Gotta make sure he's dead right?" She smiles, and it finally gets through to you that she's lost it. Whoever you thought you knew, that person never existed.

No one answers her as she stands up.

You turn stoney-faced as you look up at her. "So what's the plan Anika? How are you gonna get away with this?"

She turns around, rolling her eyes. Before you know it, she's advancing towards you, knife raised. She jabs lightly at your wound. Teases her knife against your skin. You really wish people would stop picking that specific part to hurt you.

"Do we really need to go over this again? Kill you guys blah blah blah, find Mindy and kill her, say that you and Sam went crazy like their fathers. Really, it's not hard to understand." Anika continues, shuffling her feet as she speaks like she's bored.

Time is ticking before she snaps and just decides to kill you, you know it. Not to mention the fact that you were actively dying.

"What do you really want from us? Just name your price now, and we'll- we'll get it. Just let her go." Tara splutters, almost begging.

Anika stomps her feet with the energy of a three year olds tantrum, "I want revenge! Have I not made that clear enough?" she basically yells.

Sam moves forward slowly, like a wildlife expert moving towards a wild beast.

"Look I'm sure we can come to an agreement about something-" She's saying, but Anika rolls her eyes once again and advances lazily towards you.

Nothing happens in slo-mo like the movies, you can barely register her face before she's plunging the dagger deep into the other side of your lower stomach. You can feel it pierce it's way through your whole body.

You hear a scream but it sounds a million miles away. You gag, moving your head to the side to try and puke, but nothing comes out. You try to groan in frustration but it makes your skin sting everywhere that you stop. You just stop for a moment.

Tara's fully sobbing now, you think. You can't really tell.

All hell breaks loose. Sam breaks out into a sprint at Anika, effectively knocking her down till both of them are tumbling on the floor.

You see flashes of black and gray and blood spurting from someone.

"Stay with me." You hear someone say, and try with everything in you to blink back everything into focus. It's Tara.

Her mascara is everywhere. Black stripes of tears and makeup streak down her pretty face, and you feel the urge even now to bring your hand up and wipe the tears away.

You try and tell her to stop crying but the words die in your mouth. What feels like fire engulfs your lungs.

"Stay with me. I'll be right back." She whispers, pressing a kiss to your chapped lips.

You search your mind desperately for a way out of this mess, a solution, but everything goes blank. Your ears ring, eyes rolling to the back of your head in pain.

With everything you have in you, you squeeze Tara's hand one last time, and tell her to take the knife currently lodged in you out.

Tara's eyes darken, the most cloudy you've ever seen them.

"No, no. I couldn't do that." She says, another round of tears falling down her cheeks. She shakes her head adamantly, but you shush her.

"Please. For me." You manage to get out, then with the utmost acceptance, you let yourself go.

Tara doesn't remember much of what happened after that. She remembers sobbing, she remembers someone screaming, but she can't be too sure if it's her or someone else. She remembers the feeling of your fingers loosening their grip on her hand, and she remembers seeing red.

With no where else to channel her emotions, and with your words engraved in her mind, she turns on Anika.

She hurries over to where she's still wrestling with Sam, expression tight, and grabs the first thing she can find in this shithole of a theater.

Your father's wooden box.

She remembers faintly telling Sam to fuck off, and smashing the box over Anika's head. Then picking it up and doing the same thing again. And again, and again. She remembers taking the heel of her shoes and smashing it to Anika's nose, breaking it in one clean hit.

She remembers going back to you, your white as paper skin, and yanking the knife out of you.

And the final thing she remembers is screaming at Anika while she buries the knife in and out of the girl’s body, everywhere, again and again.

[silverzoomies]

silverzoomiezzz hi hi i was eating my cloudberry ice cream and i dont know why i start to think about peter and then i think about you. and i have a question for you. what do you think peter’s fav snacks that he would save it for you because he wanted you to enjoy and love it as much as he does? this is so silly lol but anyway have a great summer <3

💗oh my gosh, hello anon sweetie !! i'm sorry for answering so late !! i hope your summer has been nice !! it's been pretty decent here, aside from the lame ass humidity.🔥🫠🔥

i'm so honored you would think of me, after thinking of our beloved speedy boy. 💗honestly, i take that as such a huge compliment !!

⚡snacks i think peter maximoff would like (he hoards them, cuz he's the snack hoarding type. ty dofp 💗):

⚡in canon, he hoards hostess snack cakes. specifically the chocolatey, cream-filled kind ⚡and twinkies. dude's got twinkies for two movies in a row ⚡like it's no wonder people assume he's a twinkie fiend ⚡we also see him with so much pepsi and mtn dew ⚡and i know it's just product placement obvi. but he does seem like a mtn dew guy, right? i bet he'd love baja blast. code red too ⚡dk if this counts as a snack, but he'd probably love taco bell. i mean, it's fast. it's cheap. it's addictive. it's easy to indulge in. mans would quote those old taco bell commercials with the chihuahua ⚡sour candy. all of it. gummy worms, airhead x-tremes, sour twists, sour patch kids. tell me i'm wrong. i'm not ⚡he'd make a mess with some fun dip, lemme tell ya ⚡any candy they used to give out on halloween? he'd be addicted to all that shit. he'd love sugary junk. he constantly needs his fix. laffy taffy, nerds, now and laters, skittles, pop rocks, m&m's - you name it, he's into it ⚡imagine the dorito fingers, anon. the cheeto fingers. the takis fingers. do y'all think he'd be more into regular cheetos, or hot cheetos? he reads as a hot cheetos guy to me ⚡he'd slam some icees. slurpees. any kinda syrupy, frozen drink. he mixes all the flavors, sucks it down, and feels no brain freeze ⚡if you took him to carnivals, boardwalks, or amusement parks; he'd put the funnel cake stands out of business ⚡sweets are his kryptonite, really ⚡i personally like to imagine he knows his fair share of international snacks too. since he can zip around the world in a blink. taiyaki. baklava. conchas. tres leches. pirozhki. european chocolate. any and all kinds of street food. he knows all the best 7-eleven instant ramen - and the best toppings for 'em too ⚡i think he'd also go hog wild over a really good steak, y'know? or some barbecue. some ribs. some brisket. all the shmeats !!

⚡snacks i think peter maximoff would save, just so he could share them with you💗:

⚡he wouldn't ⚡correction: he couldn't ⚡c'mon, do you honestly think he'd have the self control? ⚡you're asking him to do the impossible ⚡see, anon, he'd think about saving a yummy treat for you ⚡keyword being think ⚡like, just as he starts to realize he's crushing on you big time ⚡he's guzzling something tasty, when he has the thought: hey...wait a sec! you'd probably really like this!! ⚡but a second later, the treat's already gone. devoured in an instant. whoops! oh well!! ⚡he's just way too impulsive to save anything ⚡like it would have to be out of sight, out of mind ⚡or you'd have to pick from his own, secret stash ⚡because otherwise, he can't hold himself back. he'll gorge any snacks in the nearest vicinity ⚡he'd legit have to wait 'til you were both together. in that moment. if you had a few minutes. he'd be like, "hey. babe. babe. babe. babe. i got somethin' i wanna show you." ⚡he speeds you away for some mind-blowingly good street food, in some country you've never been to, nor heard of ⚡even on valentine's day. he has to snag you one of those heart-shaped boxes of chocolates last minute ⚡that, or he has to hide it from himself. if he doesn't, he'll be lookin' down at an empty box - chocolate all over the corners of his mouth - like "ah, shit."

[1427]

When the Levee Breaks (pt. 5)

Daryl Dixon x OFC

Story Summary: The one in which a stripper that used to know Merle and Daryl shows up at the Atlanta camp. Daryl’s feelings are complicated but mostly he hates her, right?

Chapt Setting: The Farm/Woods

Chapt Warnings: pretty explicit drug use (meth), season 2 Daryl, degrading/sexist language (he’s starting to get better lol), SOPHIA CHAPTER (I think that deserves a warning)

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: Daryl’s POV story. Daryl’s starting to be less of a dick, trying really hard to make it feel organic/make it make sense in the story. Idk. This chapter was really rough to write because… it made me sad. Also have no idea if it even makes sense (the hallucination bit, really hope it does) lol ALSO; I looked up some timeline stuff and i just?? Really thought Daryl was out there for days on his own? But apparently he wasn’t? We’re just gonna say that he is in this story. 🤷🏼‍♀️ I can only do so much when the timeline of TWD is fucking stupid sometimes. (I mean it. Come for me. Idc. Rick was in a coma for 59 days without food or water???!?!!!? Bye)

masterlist

17+ mdni (no smut in this one tho sorry)

Like fiberglass in my veins, it tears through me. Mellow, at first, almost think I should rail more before I can feel myself sweatin’. Different kinda sweat, comin’ from my fuckin’ soul. 

Haven’t felt like I was doin’ something ‘wrong’ since I was little. That feeling that ch’ya get when you’re doin’ somethin’ ya know you’re not s’possed to. This ain’t the first time I done spazz, but maybe it’ll be the last. The anxiety about doin’ it goes away the second I feel the devil kick me through my nose to the back of my brain. Even though I know it’s comin’, it always feels like gettin’ skullfucked by satan. 

Been out here for a day. I brought Merle’s shit with me because I decided to finally get rid of it somewhere. But I got somethin’ that needs doin’. And anyway, I got years of experience with ice. Not doin’ it. Sometimes doin’ it. Never let Merle know, he’d’ve made some big whoop ‘bout it. And everytime he’d gone and done more than he remembered, he woulda blamed me. Shit though, sometimes it was. 

M’not like Merle and Beatle. Ain’t an addict. Can do shit and put it down. Always been able to put it down. Figured other people could too, that they just didn’t wanna. ‘m not sure, but still kinda think that. 

Never felt fuckin’ guilty about it before, though. Fuckin’ Beatle. I’unno if it’s cuz I’d be done with her if she did the same shit, or if it’s cuz I know if she knew that I was - she’d be mad at me. Mad I didn’t invite ‘er. 

But this shit ain’t for fuckin’ playtime. Only reason ‘m even doin’ it i’so I can find Sophia. So I can stay awake, focus, and get ‘er back. They use ta use this shit in war. War’s the reason methamphetamines even exist. Nazi’s? Hell, every single one of ‘em in WWII. Kamikazi’s loaded up, totally fuckin’ wasted outta their minds on crystal while they bolted ‘em in. Kept ‘em awake, kept ‘em happy, kept ‘em focused on the mission. Tha’s what I gotta do. 

I can’t stop lookin’ til I find ‘er. Sophia. ‘m the only one that can, only one that knows how. And anymore, ‘m the only one that seems to give a shit. ‘Sides Carol. And Beatle. She wanted ta come. Told her she’d only slow me down. Distract me. Drawn more geeks. She woulda. Told her I didn’t need food either but she packed me some anyway. Knew I wasn’t gonna be hungry. Knew I was gonna use this dumb shit to help. But whatever. 

Doesn’t matter what happens to me, right? My life’s not worth nothin’, not compared to that little girl. Now that her old man’s outta the picture she actually got a chance. Maybe not mucha one, not the way shit is these days. But she got ‘er mom. And ‘er mom can actually be ‘er mom now. Not scared of some piece’a shit prick that finally got what was comin’ to ‘im. 

Man fuck that guy.

The trail I’m followin’ disappears so I backtrack to the mangroves where I found her doll and try to find another one. 

I start to wonder what kinda old man Beatle had. What kinda mom? Startin’ ta realize I don’t know a damn thing about Beatle. I know she likes drinkin’, she likes laughin’, she likes fuckin’ with me. But… 

Beatle keeps surprisin’ me. Not just because she let me hump her face a few days ago, the fact that she liked it, shit I haven’t even had a second to process that. Nah, more cuz she hasn’t brought it up. Hasn’t tried to hold my hand again. Hasn’t been annoyin’ me nearly as much. Not even at all, if ‘m honest. 

My brain’s goin’ a million miles a fuckin’ second over Beatle and what happened between us. Not just the other night, but back then. Got questions that need answerin’ but she ain’t here. Try to keep myself occupied with trackin’ but it ain’t like trackin’ takes much thinkin’. Follow every trail I pick up, but none of ‘em lead me to Sophia. 

I’d prob’ly start gettin’ really frustrated about this, but that’s what crystals good for. All the dopamine I need, and nothin’s annoyin’. Focus.

✨🏹 

Bent branches, wilted leaves, mud impressions, walker guts. Trees and rocks and blood and mud and dirt and greens and browns and reds and blacks. And it’s dark and it’s light and it’s dark. And it smells fuckin’ rotten. Bent branches, wilted leaves, another trail, another dead end, another undead shithead. Bent branches, wilted leaves, mud impressions, Beatle. 

How many times did I go into Merle’s bag and take the devils dick up my nose? Cuz Beatle’s standin’ here right in front of me. ‘Cept she’s all done up in makeup and glitter and her pupils are the size of dimes. Little pink crop top, tiniest pair’a daisy dukes I ever seen. ‘n she’s in my face sayin’ the shit I been thinkin’ about her sayin’ since that day she said it. 

“I like you, Dar.” 

“You like bein’ fucked up more.” I say it like I said it the last time. 

“That’s not true! I mean - I like you, Daryl.” She steps closer, tries to put her hand on my cheek before I brush her off. She slumps back a little, turning away. “You like me, too. You said it.” 

My hearts in my fuckin’ throat and I’m standin’ there, this can’t be fuckin’ happening. I know is’not but doesn’t make it feel any less real. “Tha’ was before I really knew ya, Beatle.” 

Hate that I said that to ‘er. Did I really say that? Cuz maybe that’s how I felt. Hell, maybe that’s how I felt last week. But it ain’t fair. I don’t know her. Still. Now. Don’t know ‘er at all. Thought I did. Thought I understood what kinda girl did those kindsa things. Is that really what I said? Fuck.

She’s still turned away from me, but I walk the half circle around to look at her face. And she’s sobbing. Silently, trying to stay as still as possible. I… I don’t remember this part. Maybe I didn’t see it? Nah, I saw it. Just didn’t care. Didn’t wanna look at ‘er. Didn’t want to hear her lame ass confession. Especially after she’d brought up that I told ‘er I liked ‘er. She sniffles and wipes her face before she pulls a bubble pipe out of the waistband of her shorts and lights the bottom, starts smokin’ it. She asks if I want a hit, like last time. 

I go to say no, but the words don’t come out. Instead my hand reaches for it. I look back up and Beatle’s dressed all different. Baggy jeans and a bikini top. That night. Fuck. Shit. I don’t want to relive that night. 

“I promise, I won’t tell Merle.” She says, handing me her lighter. And I smoke it. Inhaling the vapor slowly like she had. “You gotta sip at it, like it’s a coffee and you’re drinking the air to see if it’s still too hot. Roll the bowl or it will burn.” I do it the way she says. She’s like ten years younger than me, but she looks at me - talks to me like it don’t matter. Like she don’t see it that way. Guess I don’t either, never really did. 

I’d never wanted to smoke it before. But that night I wanted to. With her. Woulda done anything she’d asked that night ‘fore she ruined it. I ruined it. Til it got all fucked up an’ it was never the same again. Not the way I saw her, not the way she looked at me. 

I’m goin’ through memories like they’re happening all over again. Feelin’ fuckin’ sick. I don’t wanna remember this. 

I hand the pipe back to her and she asks, “How do you feel?” 

“Fine.” 

“Just fine?” She smiles. 

“Good.” I clarify. 

“Good.” 

Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t say it. “I think I like you, Beatle.” 

She laughs too hard, “you think?” I feel myself getting sicker and angry again all at once. 

I split in half. One half feelin’ those same feelings I felt. That this conceited fuckin’ bitch really acts like everyone likes her. I hear her words and it sounds like she’s sayin’ ‘well obviously’ - but the other halfa me hears it like a real question. Like she wanted ta know what I meant. I don’t remember how I responded then, but I can hear myself say it, “Self-obsessed cunt.” 

Beatle laughs, “Is that what you like about me?” 

My misunderstanding continues; Thought she was pickin’ on me. Makin’ funna me. All these years. All this time. Thought she was fuckin’ laughin’ at me. Never told a girl I liked her. Not that I never did like one, just never told ‘em. Not like some teenage fuckin’ confessional. And I do and what?  she just laughs.  

Shit. 

Cuz inside ‘m screaming. Screamin’ at myself ta say somethin’ different. To jus’ tell her. She’s special, she’s exciting, and when she smiles at the shit I say it makes me feel like I’m the only one in the fuckin’ world to her. Tha’s what she wants ta here. Tha’s why she’s askin’. 

“Nah. Forget it.” She nods, and I thought she did forget it.  She forgot until she brings it up again in the memory I already re-lived. 

Tha’s how I was so damn sure she didn’t give a single shit about if I liked her or not. Didn’t bring it up again for months. Didn’t give a single shit about me at all. Felt stupid for ever thinkin’ she might. Just a dumb crush on a dumb girl, and I forgot everything about it. An’ every little thing she did that made me like ‘er ended up as somethin’ else I hated.  And every time I saw her after that she was fucked up on somethin’. Meth or booze or weed. Usually all three. 

It comes at me like a fuckin’ freight train, her lips crashing into mine, but this time I want it. Don’t wanna stop kissin’ ‘er. Instead my arms move and I push her down to the ground. She’s wearing the crop top again, can tell she’d been cryin’. She’s layin’ there in the rocks lookin’ up at me and I flash back to the living room where this happened, where she’d told me she liked me back. I wanna beat the shit outta myself for makin’ her look like that. 

How didn’t I see it? 

I did see it. I just didn’t care. Thought I knew what kinda girl did those kinds’a things. 

Wonderin’ what kind of old man she had. What kinda boyfriends before she met me. How maybe she’s just as fuckin’ scared’a feelin’ stuff as I am. How maybe it took her months to even get up the courage to tell me after I’d told ‘er never mind and slowly started to hate her. How many’a those drinks were for courage? How many’a those hits were cuz she was nervous?

Shit. 

And she’s runnin’ away like she did then. Away from me an’ outta my life until a few weeks ago. I know it ain’t real but I run after her anyway. Screamin’ her name into the open air like maybe somehow I can change it if I can get her to come back. But she’s gone and ‘m still running tryin’ to find her. Screaming for her ‘til my throats hoarse. 

‘Til the walkers hear me. 

✨🏹

Andrea fuckin’ shot me. What is wrong with this fuckin’ group?

✨🏹

Beatle’s in the bedroom with me but I can’t look at ‘er. Don’t wanna. Feels like she knows what I was doin’ out in them woods without ‘er. Like she can see the dirty shit in my soul and for some reason it makes me ill. Can’t look at ‘er. Knowin’ I hurt ‘er like that all that time ago. Knowin’ it now like I ain’t ever known anything else. 

It’s just me ‘n her and she doesn’t try to talk to me. Just lets me lay there hatin’ myself for all of it. Didn’t even find Sophia. 

Spent a lot of my days in my life hatin’ myself. Thinkin’ I was good for nothin’. Now ‘m sure of it. 

I feel the bed move under the weight of her. She hugs herself around me, and like some pathetic kid I fuckin’ cry. Don’t know if she can tell or not but she tries comforting me anyway. “It’s okay, Dar. You did your best.” Her voice… how could I have ever thought it was annoying? Her bein’ so nice just makes me hate myself more. 

“Lea‘me alone, Beatle.” Shakin’ her arm out from around me. She gets off the bed and sits back in the chair she’d been in. God, I fuckin’ hate myself. Wanna scream No, come back. I didn’t mean it. 

Still got question’s that need answerin’. This time Beatles right here, and I ain’t got nothin’ to lose. “Why were you naked in Merle’s room?” Grateful that she’s sittin’ behind me. Don’t think I could talk to ‘er ‘bout this stuff if she was lookin’ at me. Right now? If I saw her face? Don’t think I could talk at all. 

She laughs. Fuck her stupid fuckin’ laugh. “I still can’t believe you think I fucked around with Merle.” 

“Why not? Y’all hung out every other day.” My voice is sharp, feels like she’s laughin’ at me again. Always feels like everyone’s laughin’ at me. 

“We all hung out every other day, Dar.” 

“Stop callin’ me tha’.” 

“I was carpet surfing. Your dumbass brother spilled all the schkag all over the damn place.” 

Oh…. But, “Ya didn’t have any clothes on.” 

“I never had any clothes on, Daryl. You sure I wasn’t just wearing something ‘slutty’? You know, like you always said I was? Cuz I don’t remember, but I’ve never been naked with Merle. Ever. Sounds fuckin’ gross.”

Oh. 

It made sense. Makes so much sense, ‘specially now. She keeps talkin’ an’ ‘m grateful cuz if I tried to say anything else I’d start fuckin’ cryin’ again. “I liked you, man. I…” she stops herself. Wanna beg her to keep goin’ but I can’t. 

Instead I ask ‘er the only question I got left, “Why’d ya leave, then? Ya left ‘n ya never came back.” 

She’s silent for a long time. “When you and Merle moved, where’d you go?” 

She did come back. 

“Why’d ya leave, Beatle?” Doesn’t matter where Merle and I went. She’s avoidin’ the question. 

“Got sober. After that night… with you. Wanted to get sober. Wanted to…” she don’t say the rest but she don’t need to. I got it. Fuck, my heart can’t take it. 

“Cuz I said ya liked gettin’ fucked up more than ya liked me.” It ain’t a question. I know. 

“Think it was more the other thing you said.” 

Tha’ was before I really knew ya, Beatle. I can still taste the words. “Shouldn’t’a said that to ya.” My voice is barely a whisper. 

She gets back up on the bed and puts her arm around me again, this time I don’t shake her away. Her voice, so close to my ear, “I didn’t want to tell you that I came back. I didn’t want you to know that I got sober for you.” 

What? “Why not?” 

“Wasn’t sure you’d care. And if you did… I didn’t want you to have all the what-ifs in your head that I have in mine.” 

She hugs herself into me so tight it’s hard to breathe, and she tells me, “It doesn’t matter anymore.” 

I feel guilty, can’t take any of that back. Can’t make any of it better. I don’t deserve this. Her. After all the nasty shit I ever thought about her. After what I did to her the other night. I can’t bring myself to tell her to leave cuz I know she wants to be here. Don’t wanna make her cry again. 

So I let her hold me. Even though I don’t fuckin’ deserve it. 

[sourscratched]

picking up the funny little guys like they’re miis in the plaza and dropping them into the fair au

extra doodles and notes etc

- josh and katrina have matching earrings designed to look like gyrfalcon feathers (they’re tiny but they’re there i swear)

- rachel of course has a wolf pendant for her hacker besties 🌙🐺

- janices necklaces are a hammer and artisanal ice

- janices “sword” is just a big handsaw (couldn’t find a way to reconcile medieval sword with coping saw in any realistic way so handsaw it is)

(B is the one i used, you could kinda pretend it’s a sword if you unfocus your eyes)

thank you to all the beautiful people in the discord and everyone who gave me ideas for the outfits!!! 💖💖💖💖 @wheelsupin-azarathmetrionzinthos @fatestitcherr @vexillologyisenjoyable @spacetime-storytime (let me know if i missed anybody who gave design ideas!)

(I drew the above one a few days before the discord chat about the renfaire au designs started so that’s why Josh’s outfit is weird)

couldn’t get this out of my head, wanted to draw jester josh so bad... didn’t know what to do for lorenzo and d’artanio so i just used my old design but slightly fancier lol

and jacques and felipe from flow of the rings can be there too

other potential ideas

- polypalooza came down dressed as their dnd characters and did some photoshoots

- brendan and his friends are of course also at the fair

zekes character is having the time of his life hanging out and taking selfies with all the Star Wars cosplayers

Jess’s character found a bunch of people to play tag with (and another group of people to act out the movie Tag while they do it)

zachs simultaneous karaoke guy maybe got into doing chants and tavern renditions of his favorite songs. and also considering the fact that the man accidentally sexted brendan in the opening number i think he probably already has the falconers contact info and is hoping to see them at the fair (lorenzo and d’artanio don’t own phones but luckily he happens to know a guy who trains carrier pigeons) (and his wife who sells stationery)

idk if byler made it to the fair, he may have been preoccupied trying to solve the mystery of how a mourning dove got mixed in with his pigeons and why it had a scrap of paper tied to its leg with “whoops wops widdly wops” scrawled on it

that evening there’s some musical acts down at the lake, including some boy band called Plato Could Never. no one’s super sure who they are but they’re local and apparently they’ve got killer harmonies

that’s all for now, thanks for reading my strange ramblings trying to connect everything for no reason at all

[seoksgrl]

happier than ever, 5. : knj namjoon x reader friends to strangers to lovers

tws: alcoholism, depression, mention of attempted suicide

note: whoops in classic me fashion i accidentally took a 3 month from updating lol. well...here it is. sidenote, i did used to work in mental health, but my knowledge is a little fuzzy, so if anything is wrong or inaccurate, pls just ignore bc after all...this is just a fanfic :)

m.list prev | next

Namjoon doesn’t even think before he shrugs out of his jacket, Jooheon watching the water where you disappeared with wide eyes, lips parted in shock. It’s only when the splash and crackle of Namjoon’s boot on the ice fills the air alongside the two men’s harsh, panicked breaths that Jooheon even reacts.

“What - Namjoon you can’t go in there, let me call for an ambulance -”

Namjoon isn’t listening to his friend’s worries, his frame is heavier than your own, and the thin ice cracks under his weight before he even gets past the old pier. The frigid water takes his breath away, but he inhales a couple of deep breaths to try and keep his mind focused, to stop his body from going into shock too quick. He needs to get to you, needs to see you bob up through the choppy waves in the gap your body made through the ice. 

His fist aches from where he smashes the ice, relieved at how thin it is all while his body shakes against the cold and the terror of that image locked in his mind, your tired, devastated face disappearing beneath the water. It’s a moment that will haunt him for the rest of his life, and he just hopes that’s the only image that does. 

Jooheon is calling out his name on the bank in between talking to the emergency services on his cell phone, and Namjoon blocks him out, his haggard breaths forced from his tight through against the freezing lake that envelopes his body, soaks into his clothes and his bones. Once he gets close enough to where you went under, he sucks in a quick, deep breath and drops beneath the surface. 

The cold, murky water of the lake burns his eyes as he fights against the automatic instinct to close them. He’s too focused on finding you to worry about whatever water parasites he might contract swimming around in this old, unkempt reservoir. His eyes squint against the darkness, various shapes and shadows under the water catch his attention as he swims deeper, long forgotten boats that had sunk long ago, or trash thrown in by people passing by. God knows this isn’t a tourist destination anymore, not that Namjoon remembers people coming to the lake when the two of you were young. It was always your safe place. 

Now he wants nothing more than to get you both far away from here. 

Through the misty, green water, Namjoon spots a shape that can only be you, and he prays silently to himself that this isn’t some cruel figment of his imagination. Your body drifts in the water, arms uplifted, legs bent slightly. You’re not fighting, and Namjoon screams your name beneath the water, but the sound dies in a flurry of bubbles. The taste of the lake chokes him as he rushes to you, feet kicking hard in his heavy winter boots. There’s a burst of movement as his fingers grip your arm, the soft material of your sweater sodden and heavy, his skin numb as he wraps his arm around your waist, glancing up to see the faint outline in the ice before he swims up, resurfacing with a gasp. 

His eyes blink furiously, and he’s not sure if it's the lake or whether there are tears flowing down his cheeks, but his throat closes around your name, the sound escaping his lips in a ragged cry. His hands are useless, riddled with pins and needles, but he grips your cheeks anyway, shaking you, trying to do anything to wake you up. Blue and red lights beckon him from the bank, and he smashes through the ice blocking his previous path, dragging you ashore as the ambulance pulls up. His entire body shakes, and he can’t stop himself from attempting to revive you, needing to work quicker, hardly able to wait for the paramedics to get here before he’s pinching your nose, tugging your jaw open and sealing his lips over yours. He blows in a long gust of air, moving back to pump a couple times before hands are pulling him off of you. 

“No! No - I have to - She needs to wake up -”

Jooheon grips his arms, pulling him back and out of the way from the paramedics, “Let them do their job, man. You need to warm up,”

Then there’s a woman surrounding him with a blanket, stepping in front of him and blocking his line of sight as he paramedics begin to pump at your chest, placing a mask over your face as one guy pumps the large, plastic apparatus. He can’t breathe, feeling as if he’s drowning along with you, and his legs give out while Jooheon follows him down to the floor, crowding him with arms that make him feel as if he’s suffocating. 

“Please, please, please…” He mutters to himself, too quiet for anyone to hear. Hot tears run down his face now, and seconds turn into minutes as the paramedics continue trying to revive your cold, lifeless body. 

It feels like years pass before your chest moves jaggedly, body bucking as you choke on the small amount of water in your lungs. The sound of your first hoarse breath is like music to Namjoon’s ears, and he falls back onto his ass on the soggy bank of the lake, his face in his hands as he sobs harder than he has ever in his life. 

There’s soreness all over your body when you wake up, your eyes unable to open while your hazy, addled mind tries to catch up. There’s something in your throat, something around your mouth, and you begin to panic, your eyes springing open into the harsh white light as your legs thrash.

“Shh, we’ve got you, Y/N,” A soft, feminine voice, slightly muffled, comes from beside you, and your eyes roll to look up at them. Their face is blurry, half covered with a mask, and you realise quickly that you’re in a hospital room, “This is gonna be uncomfortable so just try to breathe through your nose for me,”

You try to do as the doctor says, but the instrument being slowly removed from your throat makes you gag repeatedly, eyes stinging with tears until it passes your lips. Your mouth feels dry, lips cracked and sore. There’s a familiar smell stuck in your nostrils, a natural, watery scent that mingles unpleasantly with the sterile aroma of the hospital. 

“I -” You cough, swallowing hard as your bruised throat contracts, “I can’t afford this,”

The nurse looks down at you, eyes soft and full of pity, just as you hate. When they speak, your brows draw together, “The bill is covered, please try to rest,”

“But -”

The nurse doesn’t wait to hear your protests, instead leaving the room and walking out into the corridor. You look around the room, alone and confused at how you got here or what has happened in the last however many hours its been since you visited your mother’s grave at the cemetery. It’s only when you remember laying a cheap, plastic-wrapped bundle of flowers at her gravestone that you recall what your intentions had been; the lake, the ice, the wine you’d gulped at for courage, it all comes back to you in a wave of humiliation and dread. 

That familiar, dark shadow raises it’s head once more in the form of a thirst for something you know damn well you can’t get at a hospital, and so you look around and down at your form, eyes snagging on the tube that’s been inserted into your arm. It’s still a little sore, as is the rest of your body, especially your chest. There are a few long, heavy minutes where you contemplate pulling the foreign object out of your arm when you feel the presence of someone enter the room. 

“You’re awake,” Namjoon says, and your eyes close on impact, like the sound of it hurts. And it does, especially when you’re mostly sober. That’s why you need to numb it all, and why you need to get out of here. 

“I have to go,” You say, your hand reaching for the tube and tugging. It hurts, and you wince, but carry on until a pair of warm hands cover your hand, stopping your movements.

“Y/N, please don’t do that,”

“Get off me,” You say, voice failing to hold the anger you feel towards the man before you. The feeling of his skin touching yours is almost painful, and to get away from his touch, you rip your hands out from under his, aborting your plan to pull out the tube, “I don’t want to be here. I want to go home,”

“You can’t go home yet,” Namjoon says, still standing close to your bed. You feel trapped, suffocated and completely unable to look at him, so instead you pick at a stray thread on the blanket, “they’ve arranged for someone to come and talk to you,”

This is where you look up at him, your eyes lifting to greet Namjoon’s face, concern etched into his features. It leaves you breathless and pissed off all at once, “What do you mean? I don’t need to talk to anyone,”

“Y/N,” He sighs, looking exasperated, the bags under his eyes out of place when you’re so used to seeing him upbeat, friendly, “you tried to drown yourself,”

There’s something strange in hearing the words come from Namjoon’s lips, even when it’s the truth. You had intended to do that, and you’d wanted to succeed, too. But for some reason it makes you feel embarrassed and caught out when he points out the fact.

There’s a long moment of silence between the two of you, and you can feel Namjoon’s eyes on your face, his hands still brushing the blanket where your arm had been. It’s too much, you feel naked under his watchful eye, and it’s almost as if you’re a child being chastised. 

“I know you’re mad at me,” He says, voice quiet and pleading, “and I am too. I’m pissed off at myself for letting this much time get between us. I should’ve been here,”

“I don’t need anyone to look after me,” Is your reply, even when your throat tightens upon hearing the softness in his voice. Your body is simply reacting to the words you wanted to hear for years, the moment you imagined might happen five or seven years after the two of you stopped talking. But it’s been twelve years, and you’re incapable of feeling anything anymore.

Maybe if Namjoon had reached out a year or two ago, you wouldn’t feel this way, but it hurts more to think about forgiving him than it does to keep being mad, and so you do that. 

“I think you’re wrong,” Namjoon replies, and it’s not at all what you expect him to say, or what you imagine most people would say in reply to you claiming your independence. Your eyes fly up to meet his and his head is tilted inquisitively, as if he’s waiting for something.

“Excuse me?”

He clears his throat, looking away when you meet his line of sight head on, “I don’t think you can always look after yourself. I think you need someone to look out for you, and for the last year, or maybe longer, you haven’t had that,” he swallows, and you wonder if he is nervous, “you’ve been alone. And that’s partly my fault,”

Even as you frown at the side of his face, you have a sense that he may be right. Maybe this last year would have been easier if he had been around, or if Seokjin hadn’t fucked your best friend during your bachelorette party, or if you had any friends left in Yeocho. After you began drinking heavily, people didn’t want to be around you, and it’s safe to say you burnt some bridges with your actions and some of the shit you said. But you’ve gotten so used to people leaving, to being alone, that the idea of letting someone in, or back in, makes you feel itchy all over. It makes you feel vulnerable in ways you haven’t had to in so long. 

Namjoon turns back to look at you, then, possibly wondering why you haven’t replied. His lips part, as if he wants to say more, but someone else steps into the room, a doctor in a long, white coat followed by another person in a shirt and tie. 

“Miss Y/N, I’m pleased to see you’re awake,” The doctor says, his eyes darting between you and Namjoon. He smiles warmly at you both, and for a second it actually feels nice for someone to view you with something other than pity or second hand embarrassment, “My name is Doctor Chen, this is my colleague, Doctor Ryu. We’d just like to have a word with you, if you don’t mind,”

Licking your lips, you sit up, pushing against the mattress and lifting your weakened, bruised body until you’re sitting, “I don’t believe I have a choice,”

Namjoon sighs your name, and you almost turn to him before Dr Ryu steps forward, his demeanour open and relaxed, “I understand that this probably feels overwhelming, but we truly just want to have a chat for the moment. Is that okay?”

Despite everything, your eyes find Namjoon’s, his brows lifted as he looks down at you with tired eyes, but for a moment his lips twitch into a smile, oddly comforting despite your anger with his presence. 

“Fine,” You say, turning back to Dr Ryu and Dr Chen, “but I’d like to be alone,”

Namjoon nods like he was expecting the dismissal, and smiles at the two doctors before looking back at you, “I’ll go get some coffee and leave you to it,”

There’s a long moment of silence where you watch the doorway, eyes lingering on where Namjoon walked out into the hall for some inexplicable reason, and you find yourself turning away and letting your eyes land on the two doctors in front of you. Their soft smiles and penetrating stares leave you feeling naked, exposed like a raw nerve as they wait for you to talk first. 

“So, what exactly do I need to say to you in order to get out of here?”

Dr Ryu is the first to react, his lips lifting a little as if this isn’t the first time he’s heard those words. Dr Chen looks marginally more uncomfortable, adjusting his watch absentmindedly. He allows Dr Ryu to answer, and you realise that of the two, he must be the psychiatrist. 

“I’m sure you are aware of the gravity of your situation, Y/N. We don’t have to sugar coat it for you,” His voice is calm and cool like an early morning by the lake, and the fact that this is the first thing you think of almost has a bubble of hysterical laughter crawling up your throat. Irony at it’s finest, you suppose. “What happened at the lake was a suicide attempt, and in order for us to make sure you have the help you need, there will have to be several assessments done before we can discharge you,”

When the first few visions of your plan first came into focus, you were so sure you’d thought of everything. Seokjin didn’t need you, there were no pets to look after or give away, no job to call in sick to. All you had to do was die. 

It never ever occurred to you what might happen if it didn’t work. If someone saved you. But perhaps a part of you should have been prepared for this; the worried glances, the questions, the soft, pleading stares from two men in white coats. 

When you don’t answer, Dr Ryu is the first to break the silence once again, his posture relaxed as he leans back to look at you, “When was the first time you had these suicidal thoughts, Y/N? Can you tell me a little about what life has been like the last few years?”

The memories come unbidden, sober thoughts flashing behind your eyelids like the harsh rays of sunlight when someone rips the curtains away from the window to wake you up. Your sober mind can’t shake them off, can’t let them fade away, so instead you’re punished with them, haunted by the memories of finding Seokjin and Yeji after your bachelorette party, repo men carrying out your computer from the studio. 

Your mother’s pale, gaunt face turned towards you as she lay dying. 

Your eyes screw shut against the glare of years worth of pain, and you swallow it all down like a bitter pill, “I don’t want to do this,”

Dr Ryu doesn’t say anything, doesn’t try to calm you or change the subject. Instead he leaves you to feel your feelings, to let your mind circle through the memories as you unwittingly pinpoint exactly where your life turned to shit. 

“I was engaged,” You say, the words forced out of you in a shattering exhale, “and then I wasn’t. I owned an art studio, and then I didn’t. My mother was alive, and now she’s -” It’s hard to say the word, despite the fact you’ve said it countless times in drunken rambles to old school friends at the bar, even to Namjoon when he showed up in your kitchen that morning. But it feels so much harsher to say it when sober, and you stutter, frightened as if saying it makes it all the more final. “She’s dead,”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Y/N,” Ryu says, his face is soft, sincere, and you have to look away with a nod, “Is this when you began to drink?”

There’s a bolt of shame that races over your skin when he says those words, even without the accusatory tone it still feels as if you’re being judged. When you first started drinking, it was just an excuse to blow off steam, to ignore what you were feeling day to day. But then it snowballed, until it felt as if you couldn’t go a day without having a drink.

A drink became a bottle, and a bottle became two bottles. So on and so forth. 

“I partied a little when the studio got repossessed. But after my mom died I…” You shrug, unsure if you can even explain your actions for the last year or so adequately, “It helps,”

Dr Chen takes over for a little while, going over the logistics, how much exactly you have on a daily basis. Then he explains the dangers you pose, the damage you could do - have already done - if you were to carry on this way. 

“You’re still young, and thankfully the damage we’ve seen so far is reversible, but that would require total sobriety,” Dr Chen says, serious and stern, “We can prescribe some medication to help with the withdrawal symptoms, but these are to be closely monitored by your physician, and it would help to have someone at home to make sure you have a support system in place. Is there anyone you know who would be willing to stay with you? Or vice versa?”

“I…” It’s a lot of information to process, and you find yourself momentarily overwhelmed, those dark thoughts creeping in once more and reminding you how easy it would be if you were left at the bottom of that lake. 

“Y/N,” Dr Ryu says, “we want to work with you, to get you healthy both physically and mentally. Now, I know this may be difficult to hear, but if we feel you do not have a support system in place to help you through this process, it may be best if you were to enter a rehab facility. There you would have access to psychiatrists like myself, along with doctors specifically trained in drug and alcohol abuse,”

“What’s the alternative?” You ask, “I want to go home, is there any way I can go home?”

Dr Ryu offers you a gentle smile, a hand landing atop yours, “Do you have someone back at home, Y/N?”

It's at that moment that you hear footsteps approaching the door, and you turn just in time to see Namjoon standing at the threshold, a cup of steaming coffee in his hand as he glances between you and the two doctors with parted lips. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt,”

The thought pops into your head like a faulty lightbulb. 

It’s hardly true, and you can always find a way out of it eventually, but you turn back to Dr Ryu and open your mouth anyway, the lie spilling past your lips before you can stop it. 

Four days, and dozens of assessments later, you’re signing discharge papers and leaving beside Namjoon, his gaze steady and warm, mistakenly believing that you’ve forgiven him. That you’ll lean on him for support. 

Little does he know, you just needed a ticket out of this clinical hell, and he was the first person you laid eyes on. 

taglist: @maryseesthings @rkivesfilm @btsffreader92 @creolesoul2seoul @kissme-ornot @wecanpretendit

[cordeliawhohung]

More personal headcanons because i could go on forever! Sorry if this is annoying I just can stfu bc I love chip

Chip doesn’t have any health insurance, so if she ever get hurt at work (enough for her to need meds/a doctor visit) she obviously won’t go—shits expensive! So if she needs meds, Simon is doing shady shit to get it for her, or Row probably has some in her bathroom LOL.

Chip drinks milk with ice and somehow gets Simon on board too.

Row will force chip to dance with her at the club, regardless of how red chips cheeks and ears get.

Chip hasn’t fixed her fire alarm so it’s constantly making that beeping noise when the batteries are dead. Drives row crazy but chip will not for the life of her let her change it. She likes the little background noise it gives.

Chip matches Simon’s freak but only because he brought out her freak

Throwing in this little fact: Logistic regression results showed that participants with tinnitus were more likely to suffer from depression and anxiety. Poor chippy😔

If row knows chip is feeling down she brings her on a little dinner date (lord knows she needs the food)

Now if Simon knows chip is a little blue, he’s sneaking into her apartment while she’s sleeping and crawling into bed behind her. Kisses the nape of her neck and rubs her back, but he doesn’t really say much.

When chip was sick in rows little guest room, row was treating her like a little princess. Holding a damp cloth to her forehead, wiping her sweat slicked hair from her forehead, forcing chip into the bath and then while she’s soaking row quickly changes the sheets (there is literally a body print from her sweat) so chip doesn’t see it and then feel bad for muckin up her home. Also side note—that sick trope always makes me so down bad holy shit, like the way Simon cared for her.

Chip is weirdly good at bowling, like get this girl on the league

Roller skating, on the other hand, WHOOPS HER ASS. Row and her cackle the whole time when row drags her to the roller rink and they keep slipping around the rink, spending a majority of the time on the floor.

Simon let’s chip take little puffs from his cigarette when she asks, but not too many. Chuckles when she stifles a cough.

not to bring the mood down, but in my little world, chip has been in an abusive relationship. Like throwing her down stairs type shit.

On a happy note, chip makes Simon play mermaids with her in the pool. She also deemed price as the pool Poseidon

omg i love all of these. especially the dinner date one between Row and Chip because i actually have a scene like that planned between the two of them!! and the sweating while sick? iconic because i'm the same fucking way. literally might as well sleep naked cuz your clothes are getting SOAKED

also now you've got me thinking about Simon not wanting to exactly let Chip take a drag of his cigarette, but shotgunning it into her mouth instead... freaks.

speaking of that, is now a good time to mention that it's actually canon and relevant to the story that Chip is a virgin?

[adiduck]

Since it's one of my favorite scenes in TGM, maybe the '86 boys finding the most beautiful plane ever built (i.e. the F-14 for those who don't know what I mean) and figuring out who gets to pilot and who has to backseat? Or '86 Ice and Mav after seeing the Admiral in his hospital bed? Or Ice having a chat with Rooster?

Gonna go with the first one, because I'm actually really pleased with the banter LOL

-

“Ice,” Mav says, hunched over as he looks through the binoculars. He’s gone very, very still.

“If it isn’t good news, don’t tell me,” Ice says.

“It’s… well, it’s news,” Mav says, and hands him the binoculars. “Last spot on the right.

Ice takes the binoculars and looks through them.

He stares.

“Well,” he says finally. “She may not fly.”

“That’s true,” Mav agrees.

“And we won’t outrun any of the bogeys in the air.”

“Also true.”

Ice falls silent again, staring. “...Rock-paper-scissors for the pilot seat?”

“You’re on,” Mav says.

-

“I can’t believe you cheated,” Mav hisses, as they slide down the last of the bank.

“I did not,” Ice lies. “How would someone cheat at rock-paper-scissors?”

“You hesitated!”

“You want a redo? I’m sure we could stop someone to referee,” Ice says. They start out into the open, looking around at all the people milling about like so many chickens with their heads cut off. “But if not, I think we should run.”

“Argh!” Mav says eloquently.

They run.

In front of them, an F-14 Tomcat looms large, big and beautiful and just for them.

By some miracle, nobody stops them as they dash across the runway towards her.

-

“Do you often cheat at rock-paper-scissors,” Mav asks, as Ice walks up to the generator, hoping against hope has he activates the machine--

It lights up.

“Fuck, yes,” Ice says.

“Glad you’re willing to admit it,” Mav says, because he’s a jackass. Ice rolls his eyes.

“No time to preflight,” he says, and rounds to march towards the ladder. “Unhook us will you?”

“No, I’m going to just stand here and wait for us to be caught,” Mav mutters.

Ice ignores him, jumping into the cockpit and hauling his helmet back on, taking in the familiar, if aged-looking, dashboard.

“Hi there, baby,” he says, and feels the warm weight of familiarity settle into his bones. He runs his fingers over the dashboard for a moment. “We’re gonna treat you right. You up for a last flight?” He flips the Master on, fingers flying through the start engine sequence. “Come on, sweetheart, you show these pretenders how it’s done--”

There’s a thrum, and the first engine turns over.

Down on the ground, Mav whoops.

Ice doesn’t bother to suppress his grin, cheeks hurting with it. “That’s what I’m fucking talking about,” he says, and lets reflex kick in, coaxing the second engine to life as Mav climbs in behind him.

“Fuck, it’s been a bit since I sat in this seat,” Mav complains through the radio, as Ice secures the canopy.

“Don’t worry, I’m not expecting you to be much help,” Ice assures him, and throttles forward and out of the hangar bay.

“Fuck you, too.”

Ice’s grin widens. “Don’t proposition me in front of our date, Mav, it’s bad form.”

“Oh, I’m sorry baby, you know you’re the only girl for us,” Mav says, instantly, sounding genuinely apologetic.

Ice shakes his head, taxiing them out and taking in the taxiway in front of them, the completely cratered runway. He feels the smile fall off his face slightly. “Hm.”

“...Taxiway it is, I guess,” Mav muses.

“Short runway takeoff,” Ice agrees. “You a praying man, Mav?”

“Nope.”

“Me neither,” Ice says, and starts the takeoff sequence. “Let’s go.”

-

[edgarbright]

Ikevil Wrapped in Wicked Romance story event route with the premium ending + epilogue for Alfons…

Unpopular opinion but I admit I loved it

The content warning is very real! If you don't like, don't read, just put it on auto if you want the blouse/event completion lol But the cw only made me more curious about him and the route did not disappoint in showing how twisted and spicy and wonderfully villainous Alfons's ability can be! Like William's ability will make you take the knife to cut your throat with your heart bursting out of your chest and your skin turned to ice. Alfons's ability, meanwhile, will have you willingly take the object in his hand and go where he leads with a smile on your face and joy in your heart.

While Alfons's ability can take away your perception of reality, I liked how he never used it to make anyone, least of all the MC, feel bad.

And I did like how unapoletically he was about what he did, especially since, in his own twisted way, he was creating this route's illusion for the MC's sake.

Some may remember way back when Ikevamp Arthur's main route dropped and I seethed over what happened in like chapter 4. Arthur's pseudo-sexual assault intended to punish and scare the MC for getting involved in a house of vampires. Ikevil's MC is an actual hostage at Crown where she needs to prove her loyalty or lose her life. Alfons could easily have fallen into a similar Arthur-like trap of treating MC like a fly caught in a spider's web, and punishing her for putting her nose in the wrong place.

But he didn't!!!

MC was traumatized from walking in on the prologue murder, and to follow Alfons for the day meant she would be forced to face even more bloodshed because that's what Crown does! But MC (and me as the reader whoops) weren't thinking about that part; we were thinking about the silly pretend lover mission part. So it was simultaneously shocking yet hilarious how quick Alfons was to enchant MC into thinking he was her lover. Like that man did not miss a beat in going from enchanting her to convincing her to getting that first kiss. I can't even be mad because he is supposed to be a villain, so go ahead and have the kiss, sir...!

The rest of the story is written so well in a surreal kind of way. I think I'm just very into this veneer of sweet and soft with the sense of danger lurking underneath. Even when we get the meat of the dubcon, it felt dark but like in a fairy/spirited away kind of dark.

And I think this route and that content warning worked because of the MC. Her observations, her internal dialogue, her internal conflicts, her anger, her desire--they held the spotlight even while Alfons led most of the way.

The question now is which event route to pick next? I've completed two premium routes (Alfons and Ellis) and I should be able to do one more route (I've estimated four premium routes are just out of reach at around 43.7k unless I want to spend). I'm not that interested in Victor or Harrison, tbh (I'd love to hear from people that favor them!) so at the moment I'm inclined to go for Ellis's bitter end (or even Alfons's bitter end). Are the bitter ends darker? Anyone have any recommendations?

As a side note for main routes, I've put William on hiatus at chapter 18 and switched to Liam. That Liam performs a particular play surprised me and made me super happy, because that play is one of my favorites, so a great start! His route has some serious content warnings so let's go...!

[greenscreen-dress]

Vocalsynth doodle page!! I haven’t doodlepaged in ages!!! ^^ Started off with No plan, Song of Eared Robot came up on the playlist so i drew Tetobot, then i just kept going w the singing robots bc they’re the miracle cure for my artblock apparently. Only stopped bc while drawing Po-Uta I made the “mistake” of listening to his demo song and after that I was too busy sobbing /pos to pick a new synth :’D

If the colour saturation is Way Too Much on any of these uuh blame my computer screen, as always it tells naught but lies but I’m too tired to doublecheck on my phone x). Also i might go back n shade some of these properly, so if i do i’ll tweak the saturation while I’m at it ^^;

Closeups, rambles & more song links below the cut! 

Kasane Tetobot from the absolute banger Song of the Eared Robot

Tetobot SV design attempt, it has potential but i’m too attached to the clunky charm of the OG ^^. Mostly listened to this UTAU cover while drawing her, but everyone should check out this masterpiece by suzie with the SynthV VB

Miku go ooeeoo. No comment no thoughts head empty just :D

THE GUYYYY :’) if he looks like he’s crying it’s bc i was, see above :D (also suffering bc his hair shape was a pain to draw but MOSTLY bc of the gorgeousness of Humansongs... & then Circus’s banger Right As Rain... and then The Surface by Eggtan which i just discovered today, so nice to find a new original song & it’s so prettyyy... i’m getting sidetracked)

...Girl if someone stuck me in a trenchcoat long jeans knee-high boots and a SCARF as my default outfit my character item would be ice cream too. o7 for the blue boi, I don’t think i’ve ever drawn Kaito before and that absolutely has to change. Also TIL how to draw fans i guess!

Heehee hoohoohoo the sillay the child the creatura the Otomachi Una. Wanted to see if i could doodle her delightful deviantart OC-lookin design off by heart and I think i mostly got it right? The only major thing i forgot were the horns on her hat, & she felt so wrong once i noticed that i had to add them ^^; I love her somuch :D

Ogh dingus fcuk it’s 1:30 a.m uuuh whoops i go zzz now. The art creativity juices are there, mainly i don’t drawn bc I just take so LONG to get Literally Anything Finished, even a doodlepage like this takes me 7+ hours so i just. don’t sit down & draw if i know it’s gonna eat up my entire day lol. SCHREEPTIME. NOW. :D

[hawthornesbiggestfan]

the grandest game review (and hot takes)

1. plot

the fact that jlb managed to fit plot twists after plot twists in ONE book just proves how good of a writer she is. i was basically shitting my pants at the end of every chapter, WAITING for a reveal. odette, gray n lyra's games were not as memorable for me (probably because i was more distracted by lyrason whoops) but i loooooveeeddd (100% loved) savannah n rohan's games. it felt so enticing and pulled me in, it had ME trying to solve it. i loved that they solved their games first before opening up their emotions because it allowed me to focus on the main thing before moving onto the next.

2. pov holders

my favourite pov (and im biased LOL) was definitely gigi. i think i enjoyed it most because i really felt IN HER BRAIN. i loved the chaos and the amount of exclamation marks is very appreciated. i also think i liked her most because she really act like an 18 year old girl, so it was more relatable. her emotions n feelings rly spoke to me.

lyra's pov, honestly, was a whole rollercoaster. first we see her with her guard fully up, then suddenly shes slowly softening and then fully becomes vulnerable. its like watching ice melt honestly, and im not sure how to feel abt it. dont take this the wrong way, i LOVED lyra. it was just hard to read from a pov that felt... recycled? reused? reduced? (lol the 3Rs iykyk) i guess its bcs i set my expectations too high for lyra cz i fully thought she'd be a different character. instead she feels like an angrier avery (i feel the need to mention that i love avery) and it made me feel a little... yeah.

rohans pov HAHAHAH BYEEEE IM SO BIASED i LIKED it??? i thought it'd be my least fav bcs i lowkey didnt care much, but now i want MOOREE?? i will say that he was basically jameson 2.0 but hes brown and so am i so yes im allowing it... i was stressed on sav's behalf bcs he lowkey seemed pushy. in a way he was like avery, trying to get grayson to open up and take the mask away, but with savannah instead. he isnt my fav pov holder but i didnt enjoy reading his scenes simply bcs it included savannah (#biggestsavstan)

overall i think i enjoyed gigi's chapters the most because it felt like something new and also something so relatable. i loved that she tries to prove that she deserves her spot in tgg. i do love lyra n rohans pov a lot tho, and i hope they still have chapters in tgg2.

3. important characters

grayson my love was SERVING with his character development. the way he allowed himself to make mistakes, to feel and to LOVE was so heartwarming and relieving after watching him hold it all up since the first book. i will say, he's definitely more likeable in this book, but he still has the elements of who he used to be. he WAS horny, evidently. but i won't say that its all he was the whole book. he was definitely also just acting how anyone would have if put into a room with dearest lyra kane. we understand u, grayson. i too would need a moment after holding lyra thighs.

odette confused me so much HAHAHAH i didnt trust her at all and was fully waiting for her to just betray the others. when she mentioned she worked for mcnamara ortega n jones, i screamed because it clicked immediately that she definitely had smth going on with tobias.

knox n brady were a tennis match going back n forth. i did not trust brady since the start, and i was waiting for a reason to redeem knox. i dont care much abt them aside from the calla thing, but i did love their bond with gigi.

4. relationships

allow me to rate the ships:

1. sav n rohan

2. lyra n gray

3. gigi n whoever the fuck shes supposed to be shipped with.

i will say that i loved sav n rohan the most bcs i also love javery, and they reminded me of the best tig couple sooooo. i also liked the TENSION and the way they opened up to each other like a flower blooming slowly. the truth or dare scene was mental... i was screaming the whole time. grayson and lyra AAAAAAA i agree with ppl who say its rushed but fuck it i love them!!!!!! YEAH OKAY THEY KISSED TOO EARLY BUT WO CARES LET THEM FUCK!!! okay too far but u get it. gigi n slate still confuse me and i dont want this girl to be given stockholm syndrome so im just gonna ship her with ME!

another relationship id like to talk abt is the twins.. broken siblings are always my favourite trope but this hurt since theyre literally twins. the way gigi feels bad for hiding THE SECRET from sav, and sav seems to be distancing herself from gigi. ouch ouch ouch

5. overall

id rate the book a 4/5 bcs as much as i loved it, i still feel a little critical about it. i do stand with everyone who says that jlb might be milking this series, but im not complaining because i dont want any of this to end any time soon. the ending was not what i expected, and i still love savannah even if she might do smth... lol. lyra n grayson feel too perfect hence why im gonna expect something bad even now. im upset knox is out, but i think jlb will fit him in somewhere.

thats all, PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE share some of ur thoughts!!!! i need people to talk abt tgg!!!!

[ratsoh-writes]

Pop and E arrive at the festival. Swing is in his usual carrier and is trying to grab everything. E figured they would play some games, eat some locust, and maybe take turns to go on rides. Looking over at the game area, E points. "Did you want to try the bottle toss or bucket game? Oh! Or maybe Swing can try the rubber duckie game of chance"

---

Aspen rolled over to the water shooting game immediately. She winked a few people nearby and hunted she was going to film with her camera. When a competitive individual suddenly is limited on the games they can participate in, it's the games they can win that get more intense. She's going to wipe the floor with any challengers and maybe distract (flirt) them while she's at it.

Yeah ... Briar isn't doing that. They instead brought along multiple bags of ice they carried with rope and a pole over their shoulder. She was headed towards the scouts to help them out and make sure the uncooked food stays cold (and the scouts don't overheat).

They stand around after dropping off the ice, trying to see if she can find Finn. Where is he?

@wuilll

Pop: hey look!!

There’s this one stall he’s pointing to that has huge Halloween style animal plushies. One plush is practically the same size as swing, and it’s a massive magpie! One of his favorite birds!

The stall is expensive though.. but it’s a ring toss and pop is sure he can win it!

E sees a temmie near by as pop pays for five rings. Her coworkers just love swing and it was making faces at the baby as swing looks at it fascinated

Pop throws a ring and it practically jumps off of the bottle. He frowns on confusion

Pop: huh? I had that!

The temmie frowns too. E feels.. strange. Like something just shifted. Pop doesn’t seem to have picked up on it though as he throws his second ring!

It lands perfectly! Just like it was sucked onto the bottle! In fact all four other rings are perfect throws!

Dick: w-what how did you!

Pop: yesss!! That’s four! Can I get the magpie?

The temmie smiles and winks. And E suddenly forgets why she ever felt weird.

——————-

She hears finn before she sees him. Some monsters whoop and when she looks, he’s on the beach in the waves surfing! He’s sharing the wave with some hadal monsters and one of the younger scouts is on the end of the surfboard with his hands up lol

Scout: I’m king of the wooorrrllllldddddd!!