#insert microwave sounds

[joeythefrog]

i love newsies so much and your content is making me so happy!! (legit stalking your blog)

YGFUEWFUIPEFB WHAT THAT'S WILD TYSM

actually putting myself in a microwave and exploding guys

[your-system-said-what]

Poison Mushroom: “Where the HELL did our microwave go?”

Spraypaint: “It broke but we have Inanimate Legacy Microwave.”

Microwave: “Wait guys, we can talk this out-“

.

[luveline]

hi, i’m not sure if your requests are open, forgive me if not, but i’ve been thinking about bombshell!reader and spence lately. not sure if you’ve written this already or something similar, but how about them sharing a room on a case? similar to alaska.

fem, 1k

Spencer predicted the outcome of the roommate situation fairly quickly. Ignoring whatever data he might have in his head about the team, Spencer was always going to end up sharing with you tonight, because the universe hates him, and because you quite like him. 

It's nice to be someone first choice, if nothing else. “Me and Spencer will share, obviously,” you say, holding out your hand for a keycard. 

Hotch passes it over without complaint. He doesn't have to say keep it professional, you will (ish), and he doesn't have to ask Spencer if he's okay with this arrangement. Despite endless exhausting teasing, everyone knows that you and Spencer are actually friends. Or, he thinks you are. 

You certainly feel quite friendly as you hike your bag higher up your arm and sew the other arm through his. “Let's go. I'm so tired I might fall asleep on the way there.” 

You don't look tired. Spencer struggles to understand how every emotion you wear suits you. How every time he looks at you, you're prettier. He read a book recently on human attraction, and less factual but perhaps his most strongly believed takeaway from the book was that a person grows more attracted to the person they're attracted to, like a loop, or an ouroboros snake eating its own tail, forced over and over to make the same stupid mistake. What is he doing? Does he really think this is a good idea? Is he in love with you? How couldn't he be? You walk arm in arm to a room you're going to share and you don't care that he smells sickly of arnica and deodorant mixed together. You ignore the dark circles under his eyes, dark circles you never seem to have, always so perfect, always so you. 

“This one?” you ask, coming to a stop. “Room… 108?” He takes your bag and you smile gratefully, inserting the key, and legging open the door. “Tada. Home sweet home, Dr. Reid.” 

The hotel room is small and stale. Clean, sure, but questionably, with yellowing furnishings and sparse furniture. There's a double bed, two nightstands, a cubby bathroom close to the door, and a single chair near a small free standing countertop opposite of the bed, hosting a microwave and cups with hot chocolate sachets. 

“Wow,” you say, beaming, immediately breaking for the bed. 

“Wait, wait! We have to check for bed bugs.” 

You hold your hands up in surrender. 

Spencer peels the sheets back and uses the little torch on his keychain to investigate the mattress while you sit on the floor, one leg crossed beneath you and the other stretched in front of you as you sort through your clothes. You hum as you fold a shirt cleanly and make a pleased sound that may prove to give him indigestion as you unearth your pyjamas. 

“Spencer, can I shower first? Do you mind?” 

“I don't mind.” He turns off the torch, satisfied. “Thank you. For letting me check without being annoyed.”He says the second bit quieter than he means to. 

“Why would I be annoyed?” you ask, standing up in a whirlwind of pistachio perfume. Low notes of something sweet and caramelised haunt him as you drop your hand on his shoulder. “I'm gonna shower really fast, I swear. Should we get dinner? I bet we could order something to the front desk.” 

“I'll see if they have any menus.” 

Sitting in bed with you, later, showered and fed and drinking microwaved hot chocolate from paper cups together, Spencer has a strange flash of pleasure. Talking to you, seeing you with your hair in its protective style for the night, your skin shining with lotions and serums, and to have the revelation that you really do have dark circles under your makeup, it all feels private and special. Because you're still undeniably beautiful, and you act like he's worth sharing that with. 

He feels overwhelmed, in all honesty. 

You can sense it. You do your best to calm him down. 

“Finish your drink, babe,” you say, knocking him on the thigh with your knuckles. “It was a really long day.” 

“I'm fine.” 

“Yes, you are.” You giggle at yourself. “Sorry, I'm being serious tonight, I decided.” 

“Why?” he asks, puzzled. 

“I don't want to make you uncomfortable.” 

“You don't.” 

You put your hot chocolate on the nightstand and sink back into the pillows, looking every bit a movie star as usual despite your fresh face. It's your expression, the confidence behind them, that makes you so beautiful. 

“What are you thinking?” you ask. 

He looks down into his hot chocolate, swirling the drink around and around. “You're beautiful.” 

It catches you off guard. You're quiet for too long, panic festering in his chest. 

“You are too.” You put your hand on his thigh. When he brings his haze to your face, you've closed your eyes, a small smirk playing on your lips. “Wanna brush my teeth for me?” 

“No.” You both laugh. “Sorry if that was out of the blue, before.”

“I say worse to you,” you say. “Lay down with me. We can snuggle.” 

Spencer lays down. You don't snuggle, but your hand stays pressed to the side of his thigh, and the smell of your perfume lingers despite your shower. It must've been caught in your hair. 

“It's weird,” you say, facing the ceiling, “I'm not tired anymore.” 

“It's called learned arousal.” 

Your laugh is a shock. “Oh, is it now?” 

“Not like that. Are you thinking about work? If you think about certain things while you're in bed, it starts to make it so you think about those things on instinct. You've conditioned yourself.” 

“I don't think so,” you say. “Well, maybe. Mostly I just think about you, Spence. And not like that.” You laugh again, so much laughter Spencer could conjure the sound from memory alone. “Sorry, I shouldn't have said that. I promise I'm not trying to harass you.” 

He stares at the side of your face. “I know what you mean. I think about you too.” 

“Well, good to know I'm not in this torture alone,” you say softly. 

It is the worst night's sleep of Spencer's life, but he thinks he might want to do it again. 

[notsosaucystuff]

Some important phannie vocabulary and phrases (in alphabetical order):

Words:

Babuse

Bub/Bubby

Bob

Capital£ester

Crafties

Craft/Crafting

Dab

Dad

Dalien

Danosaur

Delia Smith

Doot

Eliza

Emo

Erica

Evan

Fetus

Glabella

Gloryhole

Glue

Gnu

Hiatus

Lad/Lads

Ladydoor

Lesbian

Lexicon

Lion

Literally

Llama

Maltesers

Melapples

Microwave

Muse

Nuki

Onomatopoeia

Pancakes

Phan

Phandom

Phass

Phivorce

Phol

Phouse

Placenta

Protip

Ranch

Ribena

Sim/Sims

Slit

Soulmates

Susan

Tabitha

Tit

Tour

Twink

Twunk

Uma Thurman

Whisk

Whiskers

Yap/Yapping

Yee

Phrases:

All or nothing

Art is important

Breaking the sound barrier

Companions through life

Dip and Pip

Don't cry, craft

Do you know what a genre is?

Editing tips

"Embrace the void and have the courage to exist"

Forever home/Phorever home

Girl in Prague

Glory hole

Heart eyes Howell

Hello, my name is [Dan]

Help me Dad

Hey buddy, you in London?

Hobbit hair

It hits different

Love eyes Lester

Lying makes you go to hell

Mirror Butt

Passenger Princess

Phil trash #1

Ranch metaphor

Reasons why Dan's a fail (yay)

Red Hot Phil

Right in the Florida

"Open wide for Captain Lester!"

Soft and neat

Something something night changes

Square hair

The builders

"This guy"

"This is the most fun I've ever had"

Tops only bar

Try new things

Twink Death

Twunk Birth

We're here, we're queer, and we're filled with existential fear

"What can I say?"

Inserts:

Get the [Insert noun] out for the lads

"Here's the thing about [Insert noun]"

I'm at the cluuuuub, I need [Insert noun], but in a sexy way

Ph-[Insert almost anything]

The [Insert noun] fic

[Insert literally anything]-ussy

We saw you from across the [insert noun] and liked your vibe

You will get through this [Insert noun]

Other:

2009

2012

2019

2022

2023

🧡 (orange heart emoji)

Please leave additional words and/or phrases in the notes or tags and I will have them to the list! <3

Last updated: September 23, 2024

[teddynivvy]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ starry eyes

pairing: neighbour!ted nivison x reader

warnings: mentions of alcohol consumption. she/her pronouns used, use of y/n. 2k words.

a/n: the neighbour!ted fic is here hehehe!! fully intend on doing a part 2 so don't be too mad at me for this one. this is angsty!!! very much mutual pining trope. thank u to the anon who sent me this idea. it means so much to me if you reblog/leave comments/interact if u enjoy <3

⟡⟡⟡

when i'm alone i hear and feel you wish that i could reach right out and touch you but knowing you're the one to greet me, and meet me two alone in the dark, may it be.

“Hey, I’m having a few people over later tonight. You should come by.”

It’s said with a bag of groceries in his hand, silver frames falling down the bridge of his nose. You can see the packaging of the drinks out of the top of the tote bag, against the blue of his jeans, as your eyes travel up to meet his. 

Your neighbour, Ted, inviting you over for a party. The neighbour you’ve been crushing on for the better part of the last few months - you’ve cooked dinner in his apartment, had more movie nights than you can count, and shared all of your best stories with each other. It didn’t help that you could hear him through the extremely thin walls, offering more material for you to imagine about him, your hands between your thighs and picturing how his would feel in their place.

It’s easy with him, comfortable conversations under amber lamps in your apartment, and it was easy to imagine him slotting into your life. But you knew it was stupid to mess with your living situation and pursue something - this was the best apartment you’ve lived in since you moved to LA, and the last thing you wanted to do was jeopardize it.

So when he invites you over to his place for a party, to meet his friends, to be inserted into his life in some small way - you don’t really know what to say. He can sense that something’s off, that maybe you have plans, so he detracts.

“No worries if not, it’ll just be a small thing.”

You pull the keys from your lock and relax, turning back to look at him. Soft eyes, again, which allows you to breathe.

“Yes, sorry. Yes. That sounds fun. I’ll be there.”

The smile that spreads across his features as he dips too quickly into his apartment makes you blush furiously, letting your back press up against the wood of your door. Your purse finds its way onto the counter as you look at the time on the stove - mid afternoon, more than enough time to get ready. Ready in the way you look effortless - “just came over like this” type, even though Ted’s seen you in every outfit at this point. Taking the garbage out in your robe and not much else, getting home from work in a tight pair of black slacks and a button up that stretches across your torso in a way that forces his eyes to your waist, or in your sweatpants and sweatshirt when you knock on his door with a bag of microwave popcorn and a bar of his favourite chocolate. 

He knows you, more deeply and intimately than you may want to admit.

⟡⟡⟡

When Ted knows you’re coming to his get-together, he goes into overdrive. His friends had been over many times - seen the worst of his apartment, clothes strewn across the floor and piles of dishes, and he knows they don’t care. But he’s trying to make a good impression, despite the fact he’d probably consider you one of his closest friends at this point.

Something about having you over like this is making his head spin. He’s meticulously picking out an outfit, taking what he’s heard you call an “everything shower”, making sure his hair looks fucking perfect. He wishes he wasn’t so hell-bent on impressing you, but he can’t help but feel this is a bit of a litmus test of your relationship. Assuming you show up, of course.

Little does Ted know, you’re across the hall thinking the same exact thing.

Putting on a dress - taking it off. A cardigan and jeans - taking it off. Should you just wear fucking pyjamas at this point?

By the time you had picked something out, it was almost time to go over. You could hear the people funnelling into his apartment from behind your closed door, soft chuckles and the slaps of hands in high fives and handshakes as he invites people in. You can pick his laughter out of the group, deep and throaty, which you know comes from the small buzz he already has going. You also know that after a couple beers he gets touchy - a hand on your leg or a head on your shoulder on more than one occasion, usually when he’s falling asleep during a movie night. You don’t say anything.

You grab the unopened bottle of wine from your counter and check your hair and outfit once more, forcing yourself to leave before you started to overthink it. It's just Ted.

⟡⟡⟡

When you push open the door to Ted’s apartment, there’s more people than you thought there would be. Friends fill his kitchen and living room, some out on his patio sipping from brightly coloured drinks or taking drags from cigarettes. You spot Ted immediately, t-shirt hanging off of his body in the perfect way. It clings to his chest and arms, a soft tuft of chest hair peeking out from the neckline under his chain. His usual silver rings adorn his fingers, a beer pressed up against his lips as he makes eye contact with you. He earns a soft smile, tipping the drink from his lips and waving you over to where he was standing with a small group.

You put the bottle of wine on his counter and walk through the swarms of bodies, making your way over to him. The setting sun is bleeding pink and orange light into his apartment, illuminating him from behind as he towers over you. Flushed cheeks from the alcohol and a soft hand on your shoulder as he bends down, lips against the shell of your ear as he tells you how happy he is you came. “You look good.”

It’s enough for your cheeks to warm, embarrassingly so.

There’s two men across from him - who introduce themselves quickly as Charlie and Schlatt, with a small wave. You make small talk with them - learning that Schlatt had travelled from Texas to visit, hence why Ted was hosting this party. You told them that you were Ted’s neighbour, which earned raised eyebrows from both of them, a knowing look being shot at Ted. When you looked over and up at him, he was blushing furiously, awkwardly pressing the bottle to his lips once more.

Ted’s friends were easy to talk to, most of them having appeared in some of his videos (which you would never admit, you did do a quick Google search to watch - for research purposes, obviously). They all seemed to work in the same Youtube niche as him, with nothing but great things to say. It was making you fall harder and harder.

By your second glass of wine and an enthralling conversation with another friend of Ted’s - Eddy, and his girlfriend Chrissy, you were starting to wonder why you hadn’t seen Ted in a while. The fairy lights had come on on the patio, and they were bright against the smoggy night sky of LA. Your vision was slightly blurred, soft on the edges and hazy, as the music playing over the speakers blended into the background against the conversations around you. You stood up and excused yourself to the bathroom, hoping you might run into Ted on the way there.

And you did. Well, kind of.

Sliding past a group on your way up the stairs, Ted stood at the end of the hallway. He was talking to someone near the door of his bedroom, his eyes pointed down at a petite girl, with long brown hair and her eyes looking up at him like he hung the moon. You couldn’t help but stare for a second at the scene before you, a familiar pang in your chest as your breath hitched. 

The sinking feeling - embarrassment, awkwardness, disappointment all rolled into one. A girlfriend, maybe? A hookup? Whatever it was, you weren’t super interested in hanging around to find out.

You dipped into the bathroom just as Ted’s head turned to look at you, his gaze falling to the door. He swore he could see the pant leg of your jeans and the slight swish of your hair as he heard the door click. 

The girl in front of him had her bottom lip pulled between her teeth, glazed-over eyes from the alcohol as Ted’s blood ran cold, imagining what it must’ve looked like from your perspective. 

She put a hand on his chest and he gently backed away, muttering an apology and bounding down the stairs away from the situation. He felt stupid - sobering up damn near immediately at the thought of what he just did.

Ted had basically told all of his closest friends about his cute neighbour. Schlatt and Charlie hadn’t heard the end of it - goading him to just make a fucking move already. Schlatt had threatened to out him on the podcast, affectionately telling him to “stop being a pussy or he’d tell you himself.” He had invited you with the intention of making a move.

When Schlatt sees the panicked look on his face, his face softens as well. He meets Ted in the kitchen, putting his glass of whiskey on the counter with a gentle clunk.

“What’s up with you? You look like you’re gonna throw up.”

“(Y/N).”

Schlatt cocks an eyebrow. “What about her?”

“She saw me and Shae upstairs.”

“Why is Shae here?”

Ted sighs, letting his fingers pinch the bridge of his nose. “I don’t even know. I didn’t invite her.”

“Tell her to get the fuck out then!”

As Schlatt says it, she comes down the stairs. The aforementioned petite girl, with a roll of her eyes, as she slides her glass across Ted’s countertop and dramatically slams the door behind her. It earns the attention from a few surrounding people, who quickly go back to their conversations.

“What happened?”

“She saw us.”

“Ted,” Schlatt grabs him by the shoulders. “Saw you do what?”

“Nothing happened. She cornered me upstairs and started touching my chest and fuckin’… telling me she missed me and shit. I don’t know.”

“Dude… you gotta go tell (Y/N). I thought you were finally gonna fuckin’ tell her how you felt, you idiot.”

Ted rolls his eyes. “What do I say? Hey, sorry, you saw me with my batshit crazy ex but it’s literally nothing, also I’m in love with you and have been for months?”

“Something like that, yeah.”

There’s a beat of silence before Schlatt shakes his head, backing away from Ted to rejoin the party. “Don’t be a fucking idiot bro. You’re gonna ruin this before it starts.”

He heard foot steps behind him and turned around, seeing you descend the stairs. A small sniffle from your nose that you try to hide, meeting his eyes with a watery smile.

“We didn’t get to talk much tonight,” is what Ted says, which doesn’t seem like the right thing to say, and he realizes it the moment it leaves his lips.

“I’m gonna get going,” you choke out, attempting to hide the fact you’d just been unsuccessfully holding back tears a few minutes ago. “Great party.”

He opens his mouth to explain, but he doesn’t know what to say. “That wasn’t…” he starts. “That wasn’t anything.”

It’s left unsaid, what that means. Your hurt gaze was enough for him to soften, watching you step away from him. He can tell you don’t believe him.

He feels like a stranger suddenly, as you pull the door open and feel the tears brim your eyes once again. “Thanks for inviting me.”

The soft click of the door is enough for him to finally let go of the breath he didn’t know he was holding. He wanted to punch a fucking wall, he felt sick.

The party thinned out quickly after that, people bidding Ted goodbye and thanking him for hosting. Schlatt was the last to leave - a somber smile and a clap on his shoulder. “Sorry it didn’t work out like you wanted.”

Understatement of the fucking century. 

⟡⟡⟡

[judeisbae]

Only you.

In which: Jude and reader find comfort in loving on each other after a long day of being apart Warnings: 18!+, smut!, p in v unprotected sex, mentions of semen. (please lmk if I missed anything 😭) Also, this is my first time writing anything so I am 100% open to any advice/corrections! 🩵

"Love?" Jude calls out, looking around the empty living room of your shared home. The sound of his voice echoing off the walls of the large, lightly decorated space. Off to look for you, Jude heads into the kitchen in hopes of finding you there. To his surprise, he finds a note stuck to the refrigerator that read; Picked up some of ur fav takeout, top shelf in fridge :). Jude reads the note and gives a warm smile. He takes the food from the fridge and places it in the microwave just before heading up the stairs to finally greet you.

Babe? You shout, hearing footsteps in your direction. Jude enters your shared bedroom with a smile on his face, a look of relief almost, to be in your presence once more. "Hi my love, I've missed you", said Jude as he engulfed you in a hug. "How've you been? you look drained j". "Just tired that's all", he lets out with a sigh. "How bout' we hop in the shower hm?" You say as you hold his hand and guide him into the bathroom.

After undressing, the two of you settle into the shower. "What'r u staring at girl?" said Jude when he met your eyes which were already glued to his. "My super sexy, super amazing, hot, boyfriend", you said with a grin "You literally called me a slut yesterday cus' I posted a picture of myself?!" he exclaimed with a laugh. "Oh well" you replied, leaning in for a kiss. Jude in response, placed his hands on your waist and deepened the kiss. Pulling you closer into his embrace, Jude whispered into your mouth a soft "I love you". The sound of his voice melting into your mouth. You felt his hands slowly travel down from your waist, to your hips, and finally, slide down your supple skin to make contact with your ass. You let out a soft gasp as you felt the warm, smooth skin of his chest glide against your breast.

Jude, out of breath, pulled away from the kiss. While making direct eye contact with you, Jude raised one hand from your ass and placed it around your waist, pulling you flush to his body. He dropped his head and began planting kisses all along your chest and neck, causing you to let small moans slip from your lips, to which, Jude groaned. He then moved down towards your breast, leaving open mouthed kisses and occasional hickeys in his wake.

"Jude" you whispered quietly, eyes shut "Yes love?" said Jude as he looked up at you with a grin that read pure satisfaction in himself. "Please baby I need it" you said in an exasperated tone. "Whatever you want sweetheart" he said, now making eye contact with you. Jude gently lifted you, causing you to involuntarily wrap your legs around his waist. "You ready baby?" to which you responded with a whiney "Mhmm, please". Jude continued on to insert himself into your heat, the place that you had been craving him in oh so much.

"Oh fuck", you exclaimed softly with a light gasp. You could feel every inch of him, slowly entering you, it was pure bliss. Jude positioned his hands underneath your thighs and slowly pulled you off of him, then pulling your hips back down to his. The feeling nearly making you yelp. Jude, with his head tucked in the crook of your neck, began to let out groans of pleasure. Whispering little songs of "I love you", and repeating praises like "so good f'me baby" into your skin. This continued on for some time until the two of you were finally near your climax. You, scratching at Judes back and writhing in his grasp, and him, as he began to gently sink his teeth into the skin of your shoulder, gripping your thighs even tighter than he previously was, filling you up with his warm release. Both of you letting out exclamations of "Oh fuck" and "love you so much baby", allowing one another to come down from their high. Jude pulled out and gently set you down and gave you a look of pure endearment, of which you returned. "I love you" "I love you more my girl."

A/N: that's it y'all please lmk how i did 😭

[after-witch]

Gutter [Yandere Mahito x Reader]

Title: Gutter [Yandere Mahito x Reader]

Synopsis: Mahito took you a while ago. He’s not human. But it gets harder and harder to remember that. 

Word Count: 3000ish

Notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, noncon sex, mentions of mild physical abuse, degradation

You were so unremarkable that you doubted if even your parents could come up with something unique about you. Much less teachers, much less your (distant) friends. 

You were just… you. 

But there was something special about you, wasn’t there? Something that you never told anyone about, because by the time it happened--puberty, of course, it was always puberty--you were old enough to know that it spelled nothing but trouble.

Unremarkable, nobody-worth-mentioning-you… could see curses. Most people couldn’t, unless they had a talent for sorcery. You didn’t. 

But you were unlucky enough to casually see the awful things usually hidden behind a thick blissful wall. A barrier that kept people from realizing a curse was latched onto their side, their back, their throat.

You did your best to ignore them. Look away. Pretend they weren’t real and go about your business and hope to heaven that none of them would ever try to latch onto you. 

But one day, looking away from them wasn’t enough.

Because you bumped straight into a curse who didn’t look like a curse. And at first, you’d stammered, eyes to the ground, apologizing for being so clumsy to the man who was the unfortunate victim of your inability to pay attention to your surroundings.

“Oh,” the man said, “What’s this?” And it was the oddest thing. His voice sounded almost like a pleased purr. But why--?

The realization was slow, like walking through molasses. 

You’d looked up, starting from his feet, slowly taking in an appearance that looked like it belonged on some Halloween show. A strange outfit. Scars, stitches, and mis-matched eyes.  

A costume, maybe? But even you didn’t entertain that thought for long, because something about him was inherently wrong. It made your gut boil. 

He peered down at you, a soft, growing curiosity on his face. His eyes were different colors. His face was stitched. 

And then he grinned, and you knew what he was, because inside that grin was everything horrible that ever was and ever would be. 

He was a curse. And he was smiling at you.

But it was too late for you to do anything about it.

--

The couch underneath you was stained and patched. But it was better than sitting on the concrete of the sewer, so you were grateful for it. 

That’s what your life had dwindled down to--being grateful for a ratty, old sofa with mysterious (and regrettably, some not-so-mysterious) stains on the cushions.

You pick idly at one of the patches as Mahito comes into view, holding up a DVD case like it was a prized possession. You look up at him, because if you try to pretend he’s not there, he’s going to get annoyed. And if he gets annoyed…

“I got us a new movie!” He says, almost singsong. “It’s supposed to be very popular. I wonder why…” He flips over the case and skims over the back, and it makes your chest hurt. He looks so normal, in moments like these. He shouldn’t. He’s not normal. He’s not even a person, for God’s sake--

All thoughts cease as he inserts the DVD into the player and walks behind you, to what you might call the “kitchen” if you were going to call it anything. In reality it was a table stacked with haphazard boxed foods, a microwave and a small refrigerator intended for drinks. 

This last gadget he’d only dragged down here after the third or fourth bout of all-night vomiting from foods left out at room temperature. And even then, he’d fought your begging with a smile and soothing words. “But I don’t mind when you throw up! I don’t think it’s gross at all. Really, you shouldn’t be so self-conscious.”

The sound of popcorn from behind you doesn’t come as a surprise. Nor is the scraping dread in your stomach that follows as he plops himself down on the couch and throws his arms around your shoulder unfamiliar--only unwelcome.

It’s a comedy. At least he didn’t lie about that. You barely pay attention, but he does. He laughs, his arms wrapped around you, pulling you close now and then. It’s like you’re a couple having a movie night when the roommates are away. 

Only you’re not.

His fingers dig into the bowl of popcorn, and there’s a steady crunch as he eats (even though he doesn’t need to) and watches a comedy (even though he gets amusement from far nastier things on a regular basis) and snuggles against you.

“Not hungry?” 

His sudden voice is so close, his breath unnaturally cool against your cheek. It’s a blissful reminder of his inhumanity, that coolness. 

You shrug. You should eat. At least popcorn won’t give you food poisoning. 

You make no move to grab from the bowl, so he scoops another handful of popcorn into his palm and holds it up to your mouth, like he’s presenting a treat to a horse. 

You slowly open your mouth--what might happen if you don’t?--and he pushes the pieces inside one by one. His long fingers linger on your lips, dragging over them, and you shudder.

--

“I like them both, really, but I want your opinion.” 

Mahito shifts the two lingerie sets up and down, like he’s weighing them on a scale. One is a short black one-piece that is primarily see-through, with attached black garters creating a lascivious effect even on the hanger. The other is all pink frills, frou-frou to the extreme. 

The thought of wearing either makes you want to throw up, and you screw your eyes shut and turn your head away. Maybe if you don’t give him a reaction, he’ll get bored and move on.

You should know better, though. He doesn’t mind prodding at you until you give him a response. Sometimes, you realize you should be grateful for that. He could just kill you, if you stopped being entertaining. Instead he makes sure you’re not fully tuning out, not fully retreating into a blank shell where you can imagine you’re somewhere else.

“Ahh, you’re feeling shy?” He grins and drapes both sets over a chair. You curl your fingers inward until they pinch your palms. “It’s okay. I’m the only one who will see  you in them, you know…”

You dig in harder, until Mahito’s hand is on your chin, and your eyes open out of jerky reflex.

“Was that the wrong thing to say?” He looks genuinely confused, and genuinely curious. He lets go of your chin and slots himself next to you on the bed. “You’ll look good in either set! Or you can wear nothing. You’re prettier than me, did you know that?”

It’s like he’s trying out different things, to see what makes you tick in the right way. Or is he trying to make you feel better? Either option makes your chest tighten for different reasons.

You give him a tired, withering look.

He grins, and pokes your cheek.

“Don’t worry. If you can’t pick, I don’t mind taking the decision off your shoulders!”

--

Sometimes, Mahito fucks you. It’s never quite the same. It makes you feel like one of his experiments, though you’re writhing for quite a different reason than they are as he hums and decides just how large he wants to make himself for this particular session. 

You’ve only come a few times, and it was essentially by accident. Mahito was mostly concerned with his own gratification, with stretching--sometimes literally--the limits to see what he could do. You don’t care, not really, but you can’t say it makes the experience more enjoyable when you’re left sore and unfulfilled. 

Lately, though, he’s added something startling. More startling than when he surprises you with extra hands to shove roughly inside or an impossibly long tongue snaking into your mouth, choking you.

Now, he’s taken to holding you after sex. Not holding you down while you whimper and squirm, but simply… holding you. Quiet and calm. 

And that’s where you are now, snug in his arms, sweat on your brow, as he guides your head to rest on his shoulder and rests his own chin on top of your head. His hands come up to stroke at your cheek, and you’re so tired, so dazed, that you don’t even flinch.

“That is pleasant, isn’t it?” He murmurs. You can’t tell if he’s asking you or talking to himself.

Pleasant…

As if he didn’t force you. As if he didn’t hold you down. As if there weren’t bruises on your wrists, your neck, your soul.

But as he pulls you closer and you find yourself lulled by the idle strokes of his fingers on your skin, the calmness exuding from his body, you can’t help but feel your body relax until it feels heavy and buzzing.

This was pleasant.

If you ignored everything else that came before.

--

Mahito pries open your thighs with only token resistance on your part, since you aren’t keen on the all too familiar bruises from his fingers today.

This is not unusual.

Mahito spreads your legs apart and doesn’t immediately start fucking you with his fingers or cock.

This is a little unusual.

Mahito crawls in between your legs, flat on his stomach, and rests his chin in his hand while he stares intently at your pussy.

This is definitely unusual.

“What are you…” You lean up on  your elbows, curiosity and fear swirling sourly in  your stomach.

He pouts up at you.

“I’ve been selfish, haven’t I? I read a book…” He points to the stack of books piled next to his hammock, as if you know exactly which one he’s talking about. “It says women are often ignored by men when it comes to sex. That some women don’t even get to orgasm!” He sighs, drawing it out. “I have been ignoring you… so awful.”

His gaze returns to between your legs, 

There is a dueling urge to snap your thighs shut or spread them wider. 

Mahito makes the choice for you. He reaches out and gently pulls the lips of your pussy apart.

“This little button for instance… the book said most women need it touched.”

You swallow hard. 

His thumb reaches out and strokes your clit, softly, almost tickling. 

“It’s like a little pearl.” There’s a grin in his voice as he continues to rub. You can’t help it when your hips grind down, wanting more friction than he’s giving. He seems to take the hint and presses harder, and there’s a delightful spark of pressure that runs straight down your gut.

“Mahito,” you gasp.

“I like that,” he whispers. “Say my name like that again. Like you want me. And you do, don’t you?” He grins. “Now that I’m touching this cute pearl…” His words bring tears to your eyes, or maybe it’s his touch–you can’t tell the difference. 

His thumb begins to rub slow circles around your clit, the pressure increasing your pleasure with every touch.

“Mahito.” Your voice is a soft keen. You don’t even mean to obey his order, it’s entirely instinctive. He’s making you feel good and you should say his name.

“The book said that not all women can orgasm without different types of stimulation, too, so..."

He leans his head closer, and you're only barely aware of what he's doing before his tongue licks a long stripe that ends with wiggling his tongue tip around your clit.

“Oh--”

He shifts gears, then, lapping at you slowly yet firmly.

You throw back your head and let out a series of keening grunts. It’s not enough to get off, not yet, not when you went from completely untouched to being lapped at like a bowl of milk, but…

“This is better, huh?” His words are practically spoken into your pussy, and you can feel the way some of your wetness clings to his lips as he speaks. “I still want to have my fun, but you should have fun too, shouldn’t you?” Again, you can’t quite tell if he’s asking you or simply affirming it to himself. 

It doesn’t matter, because all you can really focus on is his tongue, and the way the digit begins to swirl around your clit, applying more pressure.

“Yes,” you breathe out, moaning. Your fingers clench the sheets. “More--like that, like that, please, oh please.” 

Mahito presses a chaste kiss to your swelling clit. “Are all human women so polite when you lick them here? Or just you?” Heat burns your cheeks. But he doesn’t need an answer, and in a moment you feel his tongue on you again, tracing firmer patterns, providing just the right pressure for a warm tension to grow perfectly right. 

Your head turns from side to side--you want it, you don’t, you do--as the tension between your legs builds and builds until it finally snaps and floods your senses with red hot sparks. Your legs kick out helplessly, and your breathy moans are almost bewildered. 

Mahito keeps licking, soft little laps, until your body relaxes and you begin to come down from the high. Gradually your heart rate slows, gradually you realize exactly what happened. 

He waits until you look at him to speak.

“You looked absolutely ridiculous like that, did you know?”

His grinning mouth glistens with your wetness. Heat flushes from your chest to your face at the sight of it--and the way his words make your stomach twist in shame. 

“But don’t worry, I like it. I want to see that face again…”

You don’t have time to do more than whimper as he lowers himself back down between your legs. He licks his lips grotesquely, his tongue stretching until he’s lapped up every bit of you clinging to his mouth, before he returns his tongue to your clit. 

This time, the pleasure is mingled with a vague over-stimulation that makes you let out little keening whimpers every time he presses harder with his tongue. Sweat beads on your forehead and your back stretches as you grind yourself down towards him, wanting more despite how strange it feels. 

It’s so much… but it still feels good, and if anything, you reach your peak faster now that you (and Mahito) have had a taste of it. The second orgasm hits harder, and you gasp with your mouth strained open as your back arches so far you’re worried it might pull out. 

But he’s not done.

He’s not done, because his fingers are back on your clit even before you get time to catch your breath, pinching it firmly enough to make you squeal. 

“Not again,” you groan, half-whining. “I can’t--oh, I can’t, please,  Mahito, Mahito--it’s too much.” 

Mahito hums, and positions himself until he’s looming over you, his fingers still working your clit as your legs kick and your hips try to twitch out of his reach. His other hand--it must be a third one, because his palm goes to rest on your cheek--pins your hip down with ease. There will be bruises later.

Mahito leans down close to your ear. His cool breath almost snaps you to reality, but then his finger is rubbing your clit back and forth, stimulating the bundle of nerves until you swear you see sparks behind your eyes. 

“Try,” he murmurs in your ear, all cold honey and poison. “Try for me, won’t you? Since you’re being so good for me?”

It hurts, but it feels good. It’s too much, but you want more. You feel ashamed, but you don’t care. 

You murmur something soft and pitiful, something like assent, and his eyes widen as he thrusts a finger inside you to aid with the stimulation of your clit. 

You grunt, primal in your pleasure, as he doesn’t let up the stimulation until the painfully good feeling in your clit tightens to the point of release. It’s like someone has pulled a string running from your belly to your clit as taught as possible and let it go--there’s relief and pleasure and discomfort all rolled into one overwhelming experience. Your legs and thighs shake wildly as you clench around his finger, and Mahito’s third hand releases your held hip. He leans back and watches you from head to toe, taking it all in, committing it to memory. 

As you come down from the overstimulated high, you feel his finger pull out just before he leans down and presses a wet, hungry kiss to your mouth. You don’t need to be forced to open your mouth this time, gasping as his tongue--thankfully the normal size--swirls around yours. 

You murmur something into his mouth, unprovoked, not even realizing that it’s coming out until he pulls back and asks you to repeat yourself without his tongue in the way. 

“Thank you,” you repeat. Your voice is soft and meek and God help you, grateful. Sexual experiences with Mahito never felt like this. Especially not twice. Especially not three times, over-stimulation notwithstanding.

Mahito’s thumb trails across your lower lip. He opens his mouth, but whatever he said is retracted as he closes it again. He presses a sloppy smooch to your nose and pulls back, all energy, all excitement.

“Now it’s my turn for fun, okay?” He’s grinning, and the exuberance is almost contagious as you find yourself letting out a short, startled little laugh at his sudden change. 

He glances down at you, and the soft, curious expression he wore when he first met you is there on his face. It’s smoothed over in a moment, replaced with a grin. Replaced with his hands spreading your thighs even wider, and his fingers pushing his trousers down until his erect cock is right in view.

If you were thinking and not caught in a brain fog from your triple orgasms, the physical and mental turmoil that they took, the reappearance of that curious expression might give you pause. Might make you think. Might make you wonder about why he made it, and what he’s thinking, and what it means for you. 

But all you can think about is whether or not Mahito will try to make you come for a fourth (and a fifth? And a--) time while his cock is sheathed inside you. All you can think about is how good his cock might feel this time, with your pussy wet from multiple orgasms and your nerves tingling and stimulated.

There will be bruises, afterward. There are always bruises, with Mahito. Sometimes ones you can’t even see.  This time will be no different, in that respect. 

But this time, the memory of his wrists gripping yours or his mouth biting bruises into your neck will be mingled with the way your back arched and toes curled and the sight of Mahito's face, glistening with your pleasure on his lips.

[wakahoeshi]

Hii! Could I get a scenario where Toji is taking care of reader when she’s on her period? Thank you!

(Hello Hello! Oh my I love that hell yes hehe! I'm in love with roommate bf/gf scenario so imma insert this idea into that if that's okay!)

You were laying face down on the couch in a plank position after you had taken some pain relief medication and put on a new pad. Your cramps were sending shocks of pain through your body. You groaned into the couch cushion and tried to focus on something else.

The bedroom door could then be heard opening and a familiar sleepy grunt coming from the hallway. Part of you wanted to look up to see who it is, even though you know it's your boyfriend, Toji.

"Y/N? There a reason you're layin' down like that?"

You heard him speak in a gruff and sleepy voice, having woken up from one of his common naps. You then just groan and turn your head to speak properly, looking to the blank TV screen.

"Bleeding..."

You answer with a single word, getting straight to the point. You heard footsteps approach the back of the couch and a large hand rest on your lower back.

"Sit your ass up and I'll take care of you, got it?"

It was a breath of fresh air to have a man understand how to take perfect care of you. This was also one of the times where Toji was his most gentle. He had extremely rough edges and a harsh personality, but he was good to you.

You groan once more and lift your head, turning your body so that you're laying on your back. You really didn't want to sit up straight, but you'd followed his directions.

Your eyes were squinted as you sat up,hearing a few noises coming from the kitchen. You wanted to turn around to take a look, but you'd rather not even move.

Time felt like it passed a bit slowly as you waited in place for a few minutes, hearing a familiar beeping noise from the microwave, making you smile. Footsteps approaches once again, rounding the couch.

Toji stood in front of you, his green eyes tiredly looking down at you. He held something in each hand, a heating pad and some simple lemon tea.

"I'm guessing you already popped some pills, right?"

He referred the the meds in his own way. You nodded and gave him a weak smile, first taking the heating pad and setting it in in your lap- up against your navel. Then taking the cup of tea, the perfect temperature to be able to hold.

"Hungry?"

You hear him speak again and you sigh, thinking for a moment. You were so foggy brained from the exhaustion and pain that your thoughts were a bit slow.

"Mm...Grilled cheese?

"\You look up and meet his gaze, it was soft, but he wasn't smiling. You gave him a pleading look, and expression he liked to see on your face. He let out a chuckle.

"Your wish is my command, princess."

He walked away, rubbing the extra sleep from his eyes. You follow him with your gaze with a smile on your face, settling into the couch and sipping at your tea.

After about 10 minutes or so and you just resting your eyes, you smelled something familiar and the sounds of cabinets.

Toji returned with a plate, a grilled cheese resting on it. You hummed happily and moved to set your tea on the coffee table, grunting at the sudden pain in your navel. You pulled back with a small whimper.

"C'mon, don't move so much."

You feel Toji's fee hand on your shoulder, pulling you back to rest onto the couch. He motions for you to take the plate and you so with a pained look on your face.

"C'mon, eat up so I can kiss you better." Toji spoke sweet but insistent tone as you feel him wrap the couch's blanket around your shoulders. You blush and take a small bite of my grilled cheese, shutting my eyes and sighing. It was good, as always.

You feel the cushion beside you being sat on by Toji and you immediately lean against him, his arm instinctively wraps around you.

"Thanks, love..."

You say before peeking up at Toji. He looked down into your eyes, free hand reaching up to smooth your hair back.

"Yeah, yeah, now you owe me~"

(I have never written Toji before fujvnevr if I made him to nice, I'm aware. My headcanons might be different than most idek, but it seems like you might feel the same as I do. I hope you like griilled cheese and lemon tea!)

(And I apologize if you wanted more physical touch! I can totally do that if you wanna send another ask lol)

[elioslover]

Little Angel, Only Freak? - Grapejuice.

🎃 Halloween Flashbacks 🎃

This can be read as a stand-alone piece! 👻 I've really been wanting to include some flashback moments from Harry and Klutz's past, so I thought Halloween would be the perfect place to start!

Premise: Harry has been pining over Y/n - his best friends slightly older sister - for as long as he can remember.

GRAPEJUICE MASTERPOST / Other Writing

NB! Y/n's (Klutz) brother's name is Jack. In Grapejuice it's mentioned that Harry may have wrote some songs about Klutz. These events were inspired specifically by two of his masterpieces lmao, so lemme know if you notice any references hehe. - Em. xo

Warnings: Drinking/smoking (this oneshot contains quite a bit due to the fact that they are attending a lot of Halloween parties). Age-gap (2yrs). Self-insert she/her.

Word count: 5.4k

🍷 2011 🍷

Sitting with your legs criss-crossed, on the kitchen counter which is perhaps the highest off of the ground you are most comfortable with. Your firm belief in keeping your feet on the soil, neither under deep waters nor up in the air. 

That aside, you are eating a toastie, courtesy of your own cooking- rather surprised that not only did you manage to get ready on time, but actually finished with plenty to spare. 

Indulging in your meal, the sound of Travis Scott accompanying your chewing, Harry's sudden appearance in the kitchen is startling, but nothing out of the ordinary. Besides, there have been plenty of worse and compromising interactions in the past. 

“Aren’t you too old to be trick-or-treating?” You mumble through your food-filled mouth, eyeing him from top to bottom, shamefully admiring his choice of costume. Perhaps you were a sucker for a sexy pirate- though a large part of you believes the 'sexy' part was unintentional. 

Harry only smiles and meanders further into the kitchen, invading the fridge for god knows what before giving up, strolling over to you, invading your space in an instant and with audacity you have never witnessed prior, he snatches the half-devoured triangle of a toastie and takes a hearty bite before speaking through muffled chews, 

“Age is but a construct.”

“I guess I agree.” You shrug, thoughts travelling to the dangerously explicit fantasies you experienced at the mere existence of Tom Hard, your brain concocting a dreamland in which a 15-year age gap would be graciously welcomed. 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Harry archives the moment. An entirely separate dreamland surrounds him and yourself. But, you still seem so far away, Harry is aching to extend the conversation, “Where are you off to, a Tarantino-themed party?”

“That my dear, is none of your business.”

“Well for what it’s worth,” he informs both sweetly and sultry, “you make a beautiful *Viper.”

“You’re not so bad yourself, Styles.” You open the gates and let your guard down, needing him to know you notice him- see him, and if vulnerability is the way to make that clear, god willing, something inside you wishes to share it. 

Harry is stunned- your words are one thing, your tone is another. He wants, no, he needs to hear your softness, again and again. Then there is an invasive double honk and it can only belong to the red Mazda parked in the driveway, stark headlights shining through the kitchen curtains. 

You hop off the counter without a care in the world, straighten out your costume, and check your makeup in the reflection of the microwave before strolling straight past Harry and into the entrance hall, grabbing your matching purse. You raise your voice to address both your brother and the sexy pouting pirate stunned to silence,

“That’s my ride." Certain they've both heard, you open the front door and as an afterthought, call over your shoulder, "Save me a Mars bar!”

👻

The boys are in line for the entrance to a club that Jack stated would be "popping", but there is a clear age limit and Harry's anxiety is already reaching its limit. He turns to Darth Vader- ignoring how ridiculous his friend is- and Harry cautiously ponders aloud, 

“Are you sure we’re even gonna get in?”

“Trust me.” Jack sternly enforces. 

“What is this hold you have over me?” Harry concedes. 

By what could either be deemed a miracle or exceptional finesse, it's not long before the boys have their left wrists stamped with a small ink jack-o-lantern, and are entering the club. 

“See! Am I ever wrong?” Jack projects against the booming bass, but Harry certainly hears him, more focused on the dissipating nerves being replaced with confidence. 

“Drinks!” Jack doesn't allow a retort, making his way to the bar with the assurance that Harry is following close behind. Harry was, and after a few other patrons are tended to, the boys order their choices and cheer a duet of tequilas in celebration of their success. 

The tequila is still travelling down Harry's throat when a voice, so sweet and so familiar, almost causes him to choke, his eyes opening, neck dropping to look at the person who had exclaimed "Oi!". Unsurprisingly, you are standing there, arms on your hips, a look of disappointment painted across your face,

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“To be fair, I didn’t expect you to be here either.” Jack shrugs.

“I thought you were trick-or-treating, Jack." You chide.

“Oh, please, we’re seventeen. You knew that was a cover.” His eye-rolls with a jovial smirk. 

“Still. I thought at least a house party.” 

“Which is exactly where you said you would be.”

“Shut up.” Your last line of defence. 

“C’mon, Y/n. Go have fun, it’ll be like we’re not even here.”

With a dissatisfied sigh, you grab your drink from the bar counter and gather within the group of girls all dressed with glamorous uniqueness, disappearing into the mass of dancers, praying that Jack’s statement would prove correct. 

But, as expected, this promise was broken within the first hour after the desperate need for a Marlboro was lulling in your lungs, and for some useless and godforsaken reason, smoking is banned from the bar and dancefloor- bar vaping- however, due to the lack of an outside area, the designated smoking zone was the hallway. 

After a trip to the bathroom- which had vanity counters, ladies waiting near the cashmere wash towels to unnecessarily aid in drying your hands; each bathroom is garnished with gold framing and every stall comes with a little glass table attached to the wall; perfect for cutting lines of coke- you decided it was time to settle down for a good smoke, spotting an empty, luxurious maroon and velvet two-seater sofa. 

Your focus is on the ridiculous custom silver bear lighter you bought second-hand, your head bowed, smoke balanced between your lips, so it comes as a great surprise when you glance up and Harry is standing before you. By the time your cigarette sets alight, he is settled next to you on the lounger, 

“Fancy seeing you here.” He teases lazily.

“You lost Jack?” You shift your body to better see him, simultaneously handing him your smoke. 

“Always do.” He softly chuckles, knuckles brushing your fingertips in exchange, and he takes a good drag, hoping it will miraculously cure the anxiety that seemed to return the moment he found himself alone. 

“That guy’s a menace.” 

"This is the strangest hallway I've ever seen." He comments, glancing around the room of scattered stoners and straight smokers. Then he remembers the house he visited less than three hours ago, "And that's saying something." 

"Our hallway is not that bad." You lamely defend- this conversation has been ongoing since youth. 

"Can't believe we're sitting on a chez lounge." Harry marvels, hand stroking at the smooth material. 

"This place truly is something." You agree, proceeding to ponder the answer to a premonition she needs confirmation for, “What are you doing over here?”

“Just needed a breather.” He admits. “You?”

“Guess I’m doing the same.” You consider. 

“What’s the matter, klutz?” He reads your mood like a medium- some sort of magician.

“Boys are shitty.” You allow him the tip of the ice burg- it has been bugging you, perhaps not as much as the other things bothering and plaguing you.

“We are.” He agrees lightly, knowing it would be detrimental to pry. 

“You aren’t. most of the time, anyway.” 

“I thought I was the most annoying person you know.”

“You are. Maybe ever.” You dramatise your distaste, “But you are by no means shitty.”

For a reason Harry had always known, yet never questioned, he found your presence as relaxing as falling asleep cradled by a fluffy cloud. He briefly wonders if you feel the same, but knows better than to embrace hope. Nevertheless, he says what he can guarantee will suit your interesting demeanour, 

“I’m sorry about… whatever you’re going through.” 

“Thanks, Harry.” You smile earnestly as the pair of you proceed to pass the cigarette back and forth, comfortable in the presence of taking a cool-down. 

But, with your vulnerability out in the open, it becomes mandatory to verify the reason he is currently sitting beside you, 

“Why aren’t you down there?”

Harry knew it was coming, thought about what to say, and came up with a few reasonable excuses but as soon as the question leaves your quirked and lush lips, the truth comes pouring out and he cannot do anything but witness his honesty,

“I feel out of my element.”

“That’s all in your head.” You try to reassure him, knowing it isn’t that simple, yet hoping he might allow you the chance to prove it, even for just a moment. 

“Oh, is that right?” He smirks. 

You are standing before he can blink twice, singing your cigarette in the ashtray and reaching your arm out for him to join you, 

“C’mon, I’ll show you.”

He doesn’t protest- he doesn’t even hesitate as he wraps his hand in your own, raising from the chair and allowing you to drag him wherever you please. 

This results in descending stairs, weaving through a crowd before finally reaching the destination; the bar. He shouldn’t be surprised, but the pleasure and subconscious pride he wore as you tugged him about, moving closer, sometimes a few steps apart, but never letting go of his hand- even if only one finger was hooked to his own.

The bartender arrives with such haste that Harry is almost certain it has something to do with your beauty- it does- but mere moments later he finds out that you are in fact a regular visitor- and a loved one, at that. 

Harry is so enamoured and floored with such an overload of new information about you that he hardly registers when you tilt over the counter and order four tequilas. 

And when the tequila arrives, there are five, offered as, ‘on the house’. Your reaction is mischievous and Harry feels exhilarated at the promise of your mission to make his night memorable.  

“Bottoms up.” You command, double-parking and encouraging Harry to wrap both of his shot glasses in each palm. He does as follows, giving you awkward cheers before copying your skill and tossing back the tequila one after the other. You then guide Harry to drop both glasses on the table and immediately grab the lonesome shot glass, still filled to the brim. 

You go in for half a sip, savouring the sharp spirits slipping down your throat but leaving half the glass full. Handing it over to Harry he finishes the drink and turns to you in anticipation for further instructions. Your shoulders can’t resist a consequential shudder, and then you clap your hands together and cheekily beam up at him,

“Now, we dance.”

“I can’t dance.” His pitch is one of panic and protest. 

“Neither can I.” You answer proudly, wrapping his hand in your own and leading him onto the dancefloor.

🍷 2016 🍷

Your boyfriend has caused yet another scene, taking it personally when some poor guy dressed as a zombie accidentally stepped on his foot.

Before he had the chance to toss more furniture, you plan an escape and make a beeline for the kitchen- somewhere likely to be devoid of party-goers. But when you round the corner, the sight of Harry, dressed in a white and red striped shirt, hair quaffed beneath a goofy matching beanie, and eyes framed by large, black round glasses. He's sitting on the counter, his light jean-clad legs dangling, shoes knocking against the bottom cabinets.

He seems too calm for such a festive evening, especially when he is as notorious as Jack when it comes to turning into a playful nuisance- affectionate, chatty, and likely to end up attempting to dance.

You walk straight over, only coming to a halt when your sternum presses into his knees, and beneath those gaudy glasses, you don't miss the way his deep green eyes swell and his lashes bash beautifully with bafflement.

"Ah, here's Waldo." You beam up at him.

"Y'got me." He lightly shrugged, a sneaky smile painting his cheeks.

"What do I win?"

Eyes widening with an accompanying Chesire cat smile, your tone tainted with taunting cheeriness. But, nonsensically you lean in closer, bare abdomen grazing his denim.

Whether intentional or not, Harry is set alight, his burning knees spreading along his stomach, trailing up his chest, simmering his heart and throat, coals burning at his cheeks and brain. He is so stoned on placebo, that his mouth is unable to project his profession,

"Anything you want."

You are experiencing first-degree burns, bathing yourself in diversion,

"Are these your real glasses?" You lean your face forward, lining up with his own, your hands gently clasping the black frames and examining the determined false lenses. "Guess not."

There are less than zero reasons for your bodies to remain so stuck, relaxed in the sanctuary of physical contact, but neither of you makes an attempt to move, unaddressed and absolutely mad. You deem it time to turn things around,

"Avoiding the party?"

"A little." He shrugs.

"Bad company?"

"The worst." He tilts his chin to the ceiling before returning his gaze to your own, "Though I can't imagine I'm much better."

"Anything is better than the mess going on outside." You meet his pondersome eyes with a competitive roll of your own.

Now Harry understands the crash he had heard through the kitchen window. Your expressions of annoyance and disappointment emit all of the information he needs to know,

"Dickie acting up again?"

"You know that's not his name."

"It should be."

Harry has never shied away from expressing his distaste for your boyfriend- simply because you were dating him. Harry was hardly around, and when he was, you were almost guaranteed to be absent due to plans with Ricky.

With a sudden bough of frustration, your hands press into Harry's upper thighs to properly balance yourself. he does everything- and more- to avoid physically reacting to your unusual closeness. You breathe out and it matches the mournful furrow of your brow,

"He's just... why does he have to be so aggressive?"

"Yeah, that table certainly didn't deserve that." Harry leans in, looking down at you with a worrisome but sensitive demeanour. And then he leaps and lightly wraps his hand around your hip.

His eyes are studying your soft face, his heart focused on your sweet features and the feeling of your skin separated by his clothes, but his head is still stuck on the confusion currently holding you captive. He can't help by prying,

"He's not... aggressive with you, right?"

"Not yet." The words trail off of your tongue. And then you toss everything aside, pressing your fingers into his thigh "I don't wanna talk about it right now."

Harry doesn't know how to react, sudden shocks of arousal emulating at the discomfort of your digging nails, the desperate desire to destroy the distance between your lips, loop his arm around your neck, softly cup your cheek and express how special you should be treated- with such certainty that you never forget,

"I like your costume. Might be your best so far."

It definitely is, you are rather impressed with how well your Other Mother costume turned out. Though, your already tragic bank account has taken a traumatic bashing,

"I spent way too much money on it."

"How much?" His grin is mischievous.

"Too much."

"Now I have to know." He pleads, but know you will never utter the shame you suffer. He won't let you off the hook so easy, though, "Just to rub it in, I'll have you know, I only spent three pounds."

You huff, leaning further into his touch, enjoying the feeling of his fingers on your flesh. He has to tilt to see you fully, and you aid him craning your neck to meet him in the middle, dismissing the deemed unnecessary distance,

"Well, you've done a terrible job at making it hard to find you."

"Maybe I wanted you to find me." He shrugs with suave.

"That was ambitious."

"It worked, yeah?" He is seeping with playful pride, though he cannot prevent his need to compliment you- perhaps the only way to get his attraction across was through words, true words at that, "You really do look beautiful."

"Not just sexy?"

"Sexy as fuck." He groans, fingers pressing into the plush fleshyness of your waist, "But not just sexy."

"Filthy." You scold seductively.

And then you seem to find yourself sinking further into his touch, trying with everything in you to get nearer- his neck so biteable, collarbone begging for loving bruises. Harry is on the same page, body pressing into your own, his palm trailing up and settling on your lower back.

You think he might kiss you. You think you are out of your mind... But, you think you're going to let him. The only thing to pause your seemingly-senseless thoughts is the defensive, stern, and frankly, threatening boom of your boyfriend,

"Hey, what the fuck are you doing with my girl?"

Like velcro being violently ripped apart, you have never moved with such haste in all of your current existence to date. Harry is now at least three feet away from you, and your boyfriend is berzerkly striding towards him. Harry calmly and rationally raises his palms in defence,

"Nothing, mate."

"Ricky-" You edge closer.

But, your boyfriend has already aimed his fist at Harry's face, and instead of reacting with returned aggression, he interjects,

"Mate, chill out." Harry reasons with a casual shrug, "She's like a sister to me."

An invasive feeling of disappointment pangs at your heart at the sound of sister, and to this day you will not analyse why. It was something you were guaranteed to repeat in the future.

"Am I supposed to believe that?" Ricky scoffs but his arm drops to his side nevertheless.

Harry hops off of the counter with ease, stepping past your boyfriend with effortless confidence. He glances over at you for a mere instance- not long enough for you to comprehend the event that just unfolded.

He reaches over to the nearest countertop and grabs his solo-cup and before turning his back completely, he addresses Ricky with finality,

"Believe what you want, Batman."

🍷 2018 🍷

Harry knocks for a third time before Jack finally answers the door- and when he does, dressed Pennywise- a red balloon tied to his wrist- Harry instantly regrets his entire life, attempting to prepare for a chaotic Halloween party. Whenever Jack finds himself in an extravagant, far-too-detailed costume, two things are certain; there will be a magically, monstrous punch bowl, and Jack will be dancing on any piece of furniture that catches his eye.

“So, this was your last-minute decision?” Harry works hard to keep the disturbed feelings from projecting across his features.

“It was this or Heisenburg, okay?” Jack sighs, audatiously comparing his- what can only be described as a slutty Pennywise to simply purchasing a hazmat.

“How much time did you spend on this?” Harry finds his amusement increasing.

“Too long.” Jack admits with distaste. But all in all, This is the best of his costumes to date, and Harry certainly agrees.

“I’m sure the ladies will love it.” He commends, and Jack nods avidly, his face mimicking that of confidence.

Harry ponders halfheartedly as they enter the home Harry knows so well- the home he spent at least a quarter of his 28 years. It's only as he reaches the living room, packed with both familiar and unfamiliar faces. Many of them seem older than he, and Harry can only assume these are friends of Jack’s college, and your work colleagues.

A pang of panic threatens to become a full-blown wave of disappointment and regret. Missing out on the life he could have had.

Before he can be swept away by his newfound unfamiliarity, Jack has led them to the makeshift bar- a dining table decorated with spooky decorations, all surrounding the notorious monster of the eve- the Halloween punch. Harry doesn’t protest- by this point he deems it necessary.

Lightly tapping their cups together in cheers. Jack takes a hearty sip before his brows suddenly raise in realization,

“Huh. That’s funny.” Jack finally takes a moment to acknowledge his best friend, emulating the Devil himself.

“Hm?” Harry asks halfheartedly, eyes scanning the room for something and he doesn’t even know what.

“I just noticed your costume.”

Harry’s gaze snaps back to Jack, giving him a puzzled look, masking a sudden bough of insecurity simmering beneath the surface,

“I look funny?”

“No, Y/n told me she was gonna be an Angel. Coincidence, huh?” Jack shrugs.

“Is she here?” Harry tries to hide the sudden panic.

“Not yet. You know she’s gonna lose her mind over it.” Jack grins, always bemused by the so-called banter between his sister and best friend. 

Harry’s panic is substituted by an odd sense of relief- he now knows what- or who- he had been searching for. With a bough of mischievous confidence, he mimics his best friend's grin and informs,

“Just what I wanted to hear.”

👻

Upon the news of his holy crush’s imminent arrival, Harry finishes his first punch cup and then heads towards the ‘bar’ to pour another.

Pleasantly, someone is already attending to the punch- an old teammate from his high school football team has the same intentions, finishing up on filling his cup before recognizing Harry and enthusiastically initiating a catch-up. One that proves helpful, replacing his thoughts of you with good conversation and in turn, allows him to react.

It’s unclear how long this chat persisted as the boys moved from the make-shift bar to a spot on the porch- already scattered with smokers and an extremely tense game of beer-pong.

Eventually, the punch has caught up with him and Harry has to excuse himself in favour of the bathroom. This should be an easy enough task, but this monstrous punch has proved poisonous as it lags his movements and encourages him to take a long, good look at himself in the cobweb-framed mirror.

Impressed with his costume, and impressed with how calm and cheery he felt. Things don’t seem so bad- the intrusive thoughts were offering silence for the sake of letting him have a good time.

His best friend’s home has always had the oddest of hallways. A complicated combination of narrow to wide, with unnecessary corners and nooks. These proved sacred during the times of childhood, the perfect place to out-smart the person trying to yell, ‘Tag, you’re it!’ Now, this hallway is treacherous and Harry longs to find himself back in the living room, especially with the amount of party-goers crowding the corridor.

Looking back, Harry wonders if he would have even seen you wedged between a pair of what seems to be Cersei and Jaime Lannister. It would be hard not to, with the way the shimmering satin dress and the sparkling halo create a ring of glory around you.

But you certainly see him, meandering down the hallway dressed in a costume to match your own. Your first feeling should be annoyance, but unfortunately, your thoughts are redirected to just how good he looks.

The duo you were humouring are a thing of the past as you mutter an “excuse me”- gaze and mind already set on intercepting Satan himself.

He’s leaning against the wall- being extra careful to not knock over any picture frames. His head is bowed, contemplating his next move and it suddenly and forcefully occurs to him that his original plan to find you was diverted by a pointless side-quest.

As if the thin veil of Halloween was thoughtful enough to grant him instant gratification, a set of white heels, laced to the upper calf is walking his way. He lets his eyes trail the length of soft thighs up to the seams of lacy trim, savouring each fleshy, smooth thigh before finally addressing the owner's face.

When his eyes are met with your own, glittering with each blink, Harry’s widen in surprise, jaw threatening to slack as you stop before him. Giving him a good glance before mimicking his stance and balancing yourself against the wall. 

“Well, well, well.” Your tone is both amused and annoyed.

A sudden rush of ease and euphoria washes over him at the coolness of your mood- though, that was subject to change rather quickly in the presence of Harry.

On a whim you attribute to both a poisonous punch and the devil standing before you, Harry is taken off guard by the sudden contact of your palm on his chest, even more, surprised as you push and guide him into the nearest alcove.

But that was as far as your thoughts had progressed, what was the plan now? This is a result of impulsivity, and when you concede and don’t go on to say anything further, Harry takes the opportunity to back you into the corner, arms balancing loosely on the wall near your face.

“Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?” His smile is cheesy.

“I’m sure you’re enjoying this.” Your eyes roll, arms crossing your chest in distaste.

Harry tilts down ever so slightly, aligning his lips with the shell of your ear,

“Loving it.”

“And I’m supposed to believe this is just a coincidence?”

“Believe what you want, Angel.”

He returns to his previous position, aching to get a better look at your face, hoping that the blush pink scattered across your cheeks is a product of not makeup, but himself. You cannot admit that it’s a combination of both- not even to yourself- instead opting for a classic eye-roll and continuing to do what you do best,

“I see you chose to go costume-less this year.”

“You’re hilarious.”

“You’re the Devil.” You try, “Truly.”

By now, your hands have dropped to your sides, securing distance but still unexplainably allowing Harry the chance to wander closer if he wishes. He does, but only enough for your chests to brush, his head bowed to gaze your way, one of his hands reaching out to fiddle with the accessory adorning your head,

“Why, because I make you want to ditch that pretty little halo?”

“You’re insane.” You chide, palm raising to his abdomen in protest.

“And you want me.” He articulates with certainty.

“Correction, you’re psychotic.”

But you like the feeling of his muscles tensing beneath your hold, the musky and fruity aroma invading your senses. The curve where his shoulder and neck meet is aligned with your chin, and for a split second, you ponder the impulse to get closer, latch your lips to his skin and sink your teeth in.

Harry likes having you so near, he can smell the Chanel and cocoa butter seeping from your skin, the crown of your head smells of something fruity and fresh. And when your hand absentmindedly trails further along his stomach, settling on his shoulder, Harry almost stops breathing when his impulses get the best of him, wrapping his free arm around your waist, and when you don’t protest and your free arm goes to rest along his shoulder, he thinks he might have a chance,

“Are you sure, pretty Angel? Your body seems to think otherwise.”

“Shut up, Harry.”

“You’re more than welcome.” he smirks, loving the way your eyes simmer with conflict, “…To shut me up, that is.”

You decide that fame has done a lot to him, not just the typical singing, stadiums and superstardom, so why the hell is he talking like a… man? Like he knows how to seduce a woman, and why the fuck does that make your stomach churn with curiosity.

But, you remind yourself that age equals experience and that makes you the superior. Besides, from the way he’s currently behaving, you have an inkling that his ego has likely inflated.

This could be fun. Two could play at this game, and no matter the amount of fraternizing Harry may have committed, you were competitively and egotistically prepared to knock him down a peg.

Raising to the tip of your toes, hand tightening on his shoulder, nails softly scratching at his back, your other hand reaching to wrap around his neck, your thumb stroking the crook of his chin. Batting your eyelashes with a lick of the lips, you ensure he hears each and every word,

“Is that what you want, sweet boy?” You coo, and Harry stiffens in an instant, blinking rapidly as you push on, “Want me to take care of you?”

“You can do whatever you want.” He blurts out before the ‘ou’, fist flexing against the wall, his body aching to be tangled up with your own.

It's cute, and unnecessarily arousing, and as much as you know you shouldn’t, there’s an ache in your chest that chants for you to crumb him along for just a little longer,

“Pity. After all, this is just a costume.”

“Prove it.”

His eyes are eager, nose bumping along your forehead, and your hand comes to its finale as it holds his cheek in place, gently pulling his face nearer to your own. You pout, but the sly smirk prints itself at the corners of your lips nevertheless,

“A Devil certainly isn't deserving.” 

“Prove it anyways.”

Harry thinks he’s about two sentences away from begging for something he didn’t know he needed so desperately. As much as it pains you to put a pin in this, the confusion of juxtaposition of attraction is threatening to make you light-headed.

“No.”

So, to Harry’s utter dismay, you release him from your hold and tactfully slip out between the space you once occupied. With one more sympathetic pat on his shoulder, you smile at him and make your way back down the hallway, feathered wings taunting him in your wake.

🍷 2019 🍷

Harry was lucky enough to have been in town for Halloween- he can't count how many holidays he missed over the last half-decade. He’s dressed as her favourite thing; a teddy bear- fuzzy ears and makeup to match. Your brother, Jack was hosting his famously chaotic annual Halloween celebration, and Harry was far too giddy at the guarantee of seeing you again. He can't count the missed holidays, but he can certainly count how many years it’s been since you last spoke- mar the quick birthday wishes, and periodic congratulations and praise.

But, after an hour or so, he is starting to doubt his certainty, gaze shamelessly studying the room, hoping he had merely missed your arrival. Two solo cups of warm beer later, Harry is itching to locate you- this is your tradition after all, and he was so sure that this time would end differently, that she would finally see him for the man he was becoming.

He definitely wouldn’t be asking Jack why you weren’t here- partially because he seems preoccupied with a makeshift gravity bong. Instead, Harry seeks out one of your oldest friends, Nova, who is dressed as a Harley Quinn, but before he can even reach the group in which she mingles, his boot trips on a rug and unable to help it, the contents of his cup comes spilling out, splashing and coating Nova’s front with the sticky substance. After apologising profusely- even if just to come off polite- Harry musters up the humility to ponder your lack of presence.

Disheartened and disappointed when she responds with, “She’s in Italy”, Harry is once again confused by Jack’s lack of mentioning the news. Though none of his business, the dichotomy of standing his ground and avoiding the question versus caving in and simply asking Jack has him in quite the frenzy.  

The rest of the evening is a bore- Harry switches to ginger ale, and though he attempts to mingle, maintaining interest proves to be impossible, and for the first time, Harry makes the decision to head home early.

But, now, with a make-up-free face and his favourite jammies, he is tucked beneath the fluffiest sheets and your mere existence is pulling the sheets tighter, trapping him in a series of thoughts of yours truly, thinking about you.

[atlasscrumpit]

Miguel

Reader insert

♥️ 1111 words

♥️ You finally realise why you've been having nightmares about alternate realities of your husband

(I think there's a scientist Miguel out there somewhere?)

You opened the door to your husbands lab and saw him working away, mumbling to himself like usual.

"Care to take a break? Because I know if it weren't for me you'd starve." You say holding up a bag of take out as your husband chuckles and smiles.

"I'm so glad to see you." He whispered in relief before coming up to you and hugging you tightly.

You chuckled a little and hugged him back.

"I know how hard you work, and now that I work form home I have plenty of time to visit you and make sure you don't accidentally starve yourself again." You say with a small chuckle, placing the food on his desk.

He grabbed a spare chair for you before sitting next to you.

"Sorry I left so early this morning, love. Did you get the coffee I made for you and the note?" He asked as he started unpacking the food.

You chuckled softly at his sweetness.

"Yes, I did it was very sweet." You replied, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek.

"Any nightmares?" He asked, stuffing his face full of fries making you chuckle softly.

"Not really a nightmare, just a weird dream with your doppelganger again. He didn't speak this time he just kind of stood there, breathing heavy and staring at me. He had that weird red and blue suit on again." You muttered as Miguel nodded.

"Maybe I'm a superhero in another reality." He replied making you chuckle again.

"I could definitely see that, you're already a hero. You've cured a lot of diseases." You replied, beginning to eat as well.

"But can I fly?" He asked making you laugh and shake your head.

--

You were home at your apartment, Miguel finally home from work as you both laid in bed.

Miguel sat up reading a book as you laid on your back trying to sleep.

Miguel was lost in his book when he looked down to see you twitching and making small sounds.

"You can't be here." You whispered as you whined and shook your head.

"No, please." You whispered as Miguel placed his book down and gently placed his hand on your shoulder.

"Sweetheart, it's okay." He whispered as you gasped sat up straight in bed.

You panted and stared straight at the wall in front of you.

"Baby?" Miguel whispered, placing his hand on your thigh.

You jumped up and backed away.

"No... No, you're not him. You're not him!" You screamed as Miguel stood up and slowly approached you.

"Y/N, love. It was a dream, you were fast asleep." Miguel whispered as he took both of your hands.

"Say it with me, love." He whispered as you looked at him.

"It's just us, and us alone." You said together in unison as you took a deep breath.

After you'd had so many nightmares about alternate reality Miguel's, your Miguel had come up with a saying you could say to make sure you knew it was him.

You sighed and hugged him tightly.

--

When you woke up in the morning Miguel was gone again, to be fair you woke up at 10am.

You woke up and saw a coffee left that was cold but you could use a microwave.

You opened the fridge to see a muffin for breakfast with a little post it note with a heart on it.

You chuckled softly and sat down at the table.

You heard the door open and jumped up in shock when you saw Miguel.

"Miguel? What are you doing home?" You muttered, backing away slowly.

He smiled at you.

"There was an issue with gas and we had to evacuate. I've got time to spend with you now." He said as you looked at him and continued to back away.

"What's wrong?" He asked as you looked at him.

"Say it with me..." You whispered as your hands shook.

"What? Are you okay?" He asked, making your eyes widen as you grabbed a knife and pointed it at him.

"I knew you'd come one day! Did you hurt him!" You screamed as he looked at you in shock.

"Darling, what are you talking about? Where's Gabriella?" He asked with a smile.

"You're in the wrong universe! Did you hurt my Miguel?" You asked as his eyes widened.

"Shit..." He cursed as you came closer.

"Answer the goddamn question!" You shouted as he looked at you in shock.

"No... I didn't hurt him. I was trying to get to a universe where he was already dead and we had a daughter... I must've got the wrong one. Why do you know I'm from a different universe?" He asked as you sighed, you lowered the knife but you weren't letting go of it.

"For the past year I've had nightmares about all different kinds of you and me... And in a lot of them you're the villain." You muttered as he looked at you in confusion.

"I'm not the villain." He growled back at you.

"You're trying to take the place of a dead man and not letting a family grieve. A man died and will be buried in an unmarked grave, and you will destroy the universe." You said as he stopped and looked around with confusion.

"No... No it's not like that! I won't destroy it. They need me!" He shouted as you sighed and put the knife down.

"I saw you once... You lost me and your child in your reality. I also saw what happened, what will happen if you go to that universe." You explained, he stood there staring at the ground.

"Miguel... We lose things, we lose people, it's apart of life. You can't destroy someone else's life because yours was destroyed." You whispered as you moved forward and took his hands.

"I know you miss them, Miguel. I'm sorry you lost them." You whispered as he looked into your eyes with tears.

"I think I dreamt about you because I needed to stop what was going to happen. You know the pain of losing your wife and child, if you take over a life of someone else you're going to lose them all over again. Go back to your reality... Grieve them like they deserve and don't just replace them." You whispered as Miguel began to cry.

You hugged him as he cried.

"You're right." He whispered through his tears.

You heard the door open again and looked up to see your husband.

He stopped and looked at you in shock.

"I can promise there's a very simple explanation for this, love."

[spilledbeans116]

Happy saiyan day everyone! To celebrate, I did a little self insert x Vegeta one-shot fic! I’m planning on doing one for Broly, Goku, and maybe even Raditz too! :)

Not sure if I’ll have the others done by tonight, but I wanted to share the Vegeta one with you all. The reader’s gender is not mentioned and they aren’t described so you can be you in all of them. Hope you enjoy!

—————————————————————————-

Saiyan Day • Vegeta x Reader • 838 Words

—————————————————————————-

—————————————————————————-

“What the hell are you doing?” Vegeta grumbled, crossing his arms and coming to a stop in the doorway to lean against the doorframe. He was in dark blue sweatpants and a casual gray t-shirt, having just woken up from his nap. Well nap was used lightly as he had been out for close to 14 hours after a week long training session with Goku. You, on the other hand, were dressed nicely; your favorite semi-casual clothes causing the prince to raise an eyebrow. “Why are you dressed up?”

You were currently finishing setting your kitchen table with a white tablecloth, plates, napkins, and utensils. A small vase sat in the middle, with a red rose and a candle beside it, and you smiled as you set down two wine glasses. “It’s saiyan day. Since you ‘don’t remember’ your birthday, we have to celebrate something.”

You could see his nose crinkle up a bit as he processed your words, those expressive eyebrows of his as dramatic as always as they furrowed. “The hell do you mean it’s saiyan day? As if your species even knows mine exists.”

“Yeah, maybe you’re right,” you shrugged, making your way back into the kitchen. “But the date sort of sounds like ‘saiyan’ if you shorten it, right?”

He rolled his eyes, “you’re grasping at straws.”

“I suppose,” you replied, beginning to stir at some mushrooms and onions on the stove. “But I’m doing it nonetheless.” You tapped the spoon against the pan three times before reducing the heat of the stovetop. You turned on the oven light, squatting down to check how the steaks and baked potatoes were finishing up. “Why are you up already anyway? I thought you’d sleep a little longer?”

He walked into the kitchen, the sound of his footsteps echoing slightly around the room. “I smelled something cooking and assumed someone broke in. When do you ever cook anything?” You could hear the smirk in his voice as he spoke, “I’m surprised you haven’t burned the whole place down yet.”

“Interesting words coming from a man who couldn’t figure out the microwave,” you laughed, standing again and turning to face him.

“THAT WAS ONE TIME!” He snapped, turning away and pouting.

You giggled a bit and slid on some oven mitts before pulling the pan the steaks and potatoes were on out, shutting the oven off after and placing them on the stovetop carefully. “My point still stands, my prince.”

He blushed at that and took a moment to pause before speaking again. “Did you invite Kakarot as well? Broly?”

You placed your hands on your hips and raised an eyebrow. “I said we’re celebrating you, dummy. I know you don’t like large groups, and I can’t imagine you sharing a day with Goku of all people.”

He simply nodded.

You could feel the smile creep up onto your face as you poured the mushrooms and onions into a bowl. “I meannnn if you want them here I guesssss I could-“

“No,” he said quickly, clearing his throat. “No, this is good. You were right the first time.”

“Perfect!” You grinned, beginning to make him a plate. “I made you four steaks, but I have more in the fridge if you want me to heat them up; it’ll only take a minute.”

“Four is fine,” he said, coming up behind you and kissing your shoulder. You felt a shiver run down your spine as he pressed his forehead to the back of your neck and ran his hands over your hips. “I still don’t understand why you felt the need to do this.”

“Well, you do a lot for me; hell you do a lot for the whole planet,” you laughed softly. “You’ve saved my ass more times than I can count, you help out around the house, keep our friends safe… I wanted to try to return the favor, just a little bit.”

“Thank you.” He went quiet after that, the both of you standing in silence for a few minutes. When he spoke again it was barely a whisper, the deepness of his hushed tone sending a shiver down your spine. “I… love you.”

You could feel the warmth spread across your face as you turned to face him. “I love you too, Vegeta.” You kissed him quickly, causing him to freeze up once more as he was left in shock. “Now go change!” You grinned, turning him around and pushing him out of the kitchen. “I polished your chestplate and boots and everything for this! Enjoy it!”

“Y-you and your damned sneak attacks!” He stuttered, flustered to all hell. He sounded annoyed, but you knew otherwise. He loved you more than he’d ever be able to put into words, and you knew and understood that. You loved him and he loved you, and that’s all you needed to feel at peace. Random day of the year or not, he deserved to feel as special as he made you feel everyday simply by being with him.

[alieinthemorning]

Seen | Getou Suguru

Content: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Depression, Depressed Getou Suguru, AU: No Curses, AU: Modern Setting, Established Relationship, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Not Beta Read, Suicidal Ideation, Suicidal Thoughts, Reader-Insert

Pronouns: None

Reblogs: Let me know that you enjoy my work and want to see more, so don't forget to like and reblog (and comment in the tags. I love seeing people’s rambles in the tags)!

Depression was like being underwater. 

And not like those pretty, fantastical dreams where you can breath fine and explore freely. 

You're being pulled under, deeper and deeper. The pressure is getting stronger, your ears are popping. Your chest is crushed, but your limbs are too heavy to even grasp at it. And it hurts, and hurts and hurts. but you can't do anything. Your mind is numb, and your eyes are closed.

And within these depths of despair. 

You sleep

Or rather

You drown.

Sleep seems to be the only thing Suguru is capable of doing lately.

Everyday for the past few weeks after returning home from work, you've found him in bed, curtains drawn, even breathing despite clenched fists tucked underneath the pillow.

And today was no different.

Returning home from yet another uneventful workday, you found the rest of the home untouched, unfeeling, and cold. Even as you wandered deeper within, hand resting against the chilly doorknob. After the third day, you stopped checking the microwave to see if he had touched the food you had left in there.

Once again, for the 19th time, you found him swept up underneath the wave of the covers. The curtains were still in the same position, and his hands were tightly balled against his chest, brows furrowed despite the slow raise and fall of his chest.

You watched him a bit longer, gaze lingering at the dark circles that seemed to get deeper everyday before ushering yourself to the bathroom for a long bath.

You sat in silence as the unused shower head wet your face from your eyes in fat rolls. You just accepted it in stride, making sure that the sound of the water was a quiet as possible and buried your head in your hands. Then once everything was composed, you exited the bathroom and joined him underneath the waves, making sure that your head was above water.

Because who would save either of you, if neither of you could reach out a hand to ask for help?

Despite your gentle dissuasion,  Suguru refused to miss the get-together that Satoru was hosting. 

"He would be so disappointed if his best friend didn't show up." Is what he told you, but you knew he was more worried about not making an appearance and having the others worry about it. 

As long as he showed up, everything would be fine, right?

Wrong, because Satoru was still Satoru after all. 

"Suguru, are you eating well?" Satoru asked, leaning over to eye his friend. 

Suguru chuckled, veiled without mirth. "I'm eating as I have been"

"You're lookin' a little skinny!" He chortled at his own joke before waltzing over to make him a plate, piling it up and placing it in front of him. 

There were a lot of meats, some sides and few cookies wrapped up in a paper towel. Even you wouldn't be able to stomach this monstrous of  plate.  You caught Suguru's nose crinkle in disgust for just a moment before he gave Satoru a closed eyed smile and thanked him. 

Satoru nodded at you, "Make sure he eats." then walked away, off to go bother another group of people. Or maybe get away from the dark cloud that surrounded the two of you. 

Satoru was still Satoru after all, and despite those absolutely stunning blue eyes that seemed to see right through you, he still couldn't truly see his best friend. He saw the man who he wanted the see, which was not far from who he actually was, but that was still disregarding a major part of him.

No matter how weak Satoru thought it made him.

You excused yourself for a moment, going to grab two canned drinks and an empty plate before returning to your spot besides Suguru. You placed one of the drinks in front of him, then started picking off his plate.  You made sure to eat slowly, keeping your eyes else where, but your focus was on him. A wave of relief washing over you when he began picking at his plate.

After a few bites, he muttered "This tastes like shit."

You didn't force him to eat more than he was comfortable with and when he began rolling his food around, you wordlessly collected his plate and tossed it with yours. Settling back beside him and placing a hand on his thigh under the table. After a while, his slid under yours hand. He didn't try to entwine them, just relished in the grounding weight of that small bit of yourself.

The two of you stayed like this until it was a socially acceptable time for you to leave the function. Bidding your time, and politely engaging conversations with those who would wander your way (with you dominating the discussion). The drive home was quiet, music playing lowly in the background. Your eyes were focused on the road, and Suguru's were closed in a uncomfortable sleep. 

Once home, you readied yourself for bed while he carelessly stripped down to his underwear and slid under the covers. You didn't scold him, even though the hamper was in the corner of the room and he could have easily stripped there and tossed them inside, you didn't scold him. Just put the clothes in there yourself and joined him in bed. 

Because you understood, you understood that desperate feeling of *needing* to get under the covers as soon as humanly possible. To hide yourself away from everything else and just be.

But you still couldn't escape everything. Because you escaped right into the arms of it. That sinful whisper that tells you that everything is better, safer with it under the covers, then traps you with what it called warmth. 

You were, unfortunately, getting used to returning to a cold home. An untouched plate still waiting in the microwave, a show-room-esque living room. Suguru trapped beneath the bottom of the ocean,  body still too numb to reach out for help. 

Today was different, however.  

Today you were greeted by the low hum of the television, a rerun of a show the two of you enjoyed together played. His gaze was on the screen, but his attention was far off elsewhere. He must be getting tempted again, you stopped the whispers before it could persuade him any further. 

"Have you started any of the new episodes?" You asked softly as you came up behind him. He shook his head no and you took his head in your hands, tilting it back, so that you could place a kiss on his forehead. "Let me shower then and we can watch an episode or two."

An episode or two became the whole season, not that you watched it all. You fell asleep on maybe the 8th episode, or at least that's what Suguru told you. You were the first to doze, which prompted Suguru to adjust the convertible sofa into a bed using fresh linen from the closet instead of the ones on the bed, and made it nice and cozy for the two of you. He also said that you snuggled real close to him, your face planted firmly against his neck  

"It's like you were afraid that I was gonna disappear on you." His voice was light, but there was distress behind his eyes.  He knew how bad it was getting, but he hadn't realize just how bad it was affecting  you as well. 

The two of you often talked about simply not existing and how it would be to no longer have to bear the the weight of the living while also firmly agreeing that despite these thoughts, neither of you planned to take your own life.  

But this...this reaching the cusp of that, and yeah, it did scare you. 

It terrified you.

But someone had to stay afloat to help him from the depths. 

"I think I was just really comfy." Was your lackluster response, before you stood, stretched and headed off into the kitchen. 

Upon entering, you eyes caught the single plate and fork that sat, dripping in the drying rack. As nonchalant as possible, you grabbed a paper towel and a few cookies.  It wasn't out of the ordinary for you to heat up your cookies before eating them, so using that as a cover you opened the microwave. 

It was empty. 

Then, as that was going, you check the trash, dusting off your cookie crumbled hands.

There was no food, or any sort of signs that food had been buried further. 

He had finally eaten a whole meal.

The relief that flooded you almost made you cry on the spot, but you couldn't because you had to stay afloat.

His head was above water, but only barely.

But his hand was extended out towards you.

And you were ready to grab it once he was in ready and in reach.

I freshly just finished the first bit of JJK S2 and it made me want to write this.

This is after me saying that I was too scared to write for this fandom because I didn't think I'd be able to portray the characters right.

Fuck that, I got shit to say.

And the shit I had to say was kinda dark actually. I guess this is what happens when you write instead of going to sleep lol.

Anyway, I have no idea if this will go any further than this tho. (Be still my SuguSato/Reader Heart)

Oh, and yes. Satoru did say skinny in the way that you're thinking.

Edit: Oh, look! A proper Masterlist!

Ko-Fi | Commission | Masterlist

[somethin-human]

My Darlin’/Tank headcanons

(Forgive me, I am feeling gross and congested so if sentences sound weird, that’s probably why lol bc my brain has stopped working)

They have naturally super white looking hair, but dyed the underneath layer black

Idk if this is considered a headcanon but like they genuinely have no idea how to cook. They know how to heat up things in a microwave, but like if not that, then they’re completely lost.

They are the cuddly type when they are drunk or sick.

Whenever they wake up from a nap (that Sam forced them into), they’re shift and do a big stretch.

Addition to that, they’re also do that thing that dogs do sometimes and nudge their snout to Sam’s butt (like the side of it) and it always makes Sam giggle.

Sam and Darlin’ still haven’t gone on a proper date. Not for any particular reason, they just don’t really find it necessary and just chill at home and watch movies.

When they broke up with Quinn, they chopped off all their hair with a knife. Not even with scissors, a whole ass knife. And their hair looked super choppy but cool looking.

When their hair grew back out, Angel was the one to fix it up a little bit.

Sam has a basement that he never used but when Darlin’ moved in, they turned it into a gym because they took a liking to boxing.

They still have an iPhone 4, and they completely shattered the screen but it still works completely fine. Sam and William have INSISTED on getting them a new phone but they always turn it down. (Is this a self insert? Probably? But thankfully I don’t have an iPhone 4 anymore… now I have a 6s 😩)

They did have a gender crisis when they were a younger teen, but then decided to just go with whatever.

Anarchist

Sometimes David asks if they would want to be a part of a gig and sometimes they say yes, but David always plans for them not to show up until an hour after they’re supposed to be there.

They’re complete ass at Minecraft, but they play with the other mates because why not.

There’s a cliff in the forest that surrounds their and Sam’s cabin and sometimes when they feel “eh”, they’ll just sit near it and watch the birds.

If they’re terrified of anything, it’s thunder.

They’re really good at quickly calming their panic attacks because they’re scared of being vulnerable and hate crying in front of people.

They have stollen several flannels from Sam.

Sweetheart got them a weighted blanket and it’s their favorite thing.

Sam bought them a stuffed animal. They said it was cute, in like a “oh, yeah, thanks” kind of way, but whenever he comes home from a clan meeting, he finds them curled up with his pillow and the stuffed animal.

(I have more, but this is what y’all are getting)

[neon-pink-skies]

Bakugou x Reader (Comfort) Period pains

Heyyyy, I got this Idea after reading smth and it has probably been written soooo many times but I wanna make it more self inserted. Overall it’s about the reader getting their period and Bakugou comforts them, I will still use gender-neutral pronouns tho! The quirk I will be using is called light manifestation: The user can create any object that will be glowing with a white-yellowish color and uses some of the user's body temperature over time.

If the quirk is used too much then the user's body will grow cold and immobile leaving them unable to summon anything. The hero costume is built to keep the user warm at any time to lessen the effect of overusing the quirk. Word count: 1,685

“Have you noticed (Y/N)s change in behavior? They seem more…” kaminari whispered to Kirishima thinking about the right word to say.

„…Depressed?“ Kirishima finished his sentence and kaminari nodded only to get hit on the back of his head by bakugou.

„It’s their pms you Idiots, also don’t talk behind the back of others!“ he corrected them loudly, making you perk up from your slouched position at your desk.

You could see the trio bickering, making you more annoyed than cheerful. You were already tired and had a headache, so having them be so loud didn‘t help at all.

,,Can you guys please be more quiet?‘‘ you asked with slight annoyance coming through your tone of voice making the trio quiet down.

You laid your head down on your arms as you blocked out everything that was going on around you. A chair was put down beside you while you didn‘t notice and suddenly felt a hand on your shoulder and slightly winced at the sudden touch.

‚,It‘s just me, don‘t worry.‘‘ The familiar voice from bakugou soothed you as you relaxed again and fell asleep.

,,Wow bakugou, I didn‘t think you could be this calm and caring.‘‘ Shoto said in a monotonous yet soft voice earning a death glare from bakugou and a few ‘Awws‘ from the girls.

,,Be glad they are sleeping or I would’ve killed you all by this second.‘‘ He carefully whispered so he wouldn‘t you wake up.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

A few days had passed and it was in the middle of the night when you woke up from massive pain in your lower abdomen. It felt like someone was stabbing you from the inside and it made you sit up and curl into a ball to get some warmth or pain release. 'I really don't wanna get up, I might wake up the others' Besides the fact the pain was going down your legs too, you didn't want to cause any trouble so you decided to just lay in bed and endure the pain. But it didn't take too long until you grew sick of the pain and actually wanted it gone, grabbing your cherry pit cushion/Hot water bottle and making your way downstairs. You silently thanked the person who made the layout of the dorms as every other room was on the 1st and 2nd floor so no one could hear you when you were in the kitchen. Or so you thought when you heard someone coming down the stairs. 'Please don't let it be Mr. Aizawa' You prayed silently before getting suddenly hugged from behind seeing the blonde spikey hair in the corner of your eye.

You sighed in relief ,,Katsuki you scared me there for a moment, I thought you were Mr.Aizawa.''

Bakugou looked at you with a slightly annoyed face as he replied,,I feel offended.'' You laughed a bit at his words as you apologized. The microwave/water boiler made a sound signaling it was done and you sighed in relief to finally get rid of the pain for now. You took the now-hot item and placed it on your lower stomach and sighed in relief. ,,Oh, did you just get them?'' Bakugou asked casually to which you nodded before you got suddenly carried bridal style making you gasp in surprise. ,,Katsuki what are you doing??'' You hissed with confusion at him but got shushed by him as he was going up the stairs. ,,I'm carrying you to your room dumbass, what else would I be doing.'' He hissed back and opened to door to your room by using his elbow to push down the handle. He set you down on your bed and cuddled close to you placing his hands on the heating item so it wouldn't move too much. ,,I can walk you know?'' You replied as you readjusted the heating item.

He rolled his eyes before glaring slightly at you ,,I know your legs hurt as well when this happens. Stop refusing my help.'' You gave up and just smiled and enjoyed the warmth of both him and the heating item, going back to sleep.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The next few days, Bakugou continued to sleep with you at night to make sure you could get painless sleep by holding you close and supporting the heating item every night so it wouldn't move. Over the day he would make sure you drank lots of water since he knew it could also lessen the pain, staying as much by your side as possible to make sure you were okay. When it was training time, bakugou and you had a small argument as to if you should participate or not since both of you were unsure if the pain would get worse or lessen through training. You won the argument under the condition that you would dip out of the fight if your pain got too much. Everyone got paired up to fight 2v2 with you being in a team sero. Little to your surprise you got paired to fight against Midoria and Denki. The other classmates were watching the fight on a big screen as bakugou was unusually tense when you and sero had to fight. He secretly hoped Midoria wouldn't go too hard against you. 'I will fry Deku to a shrimp if he dares to go hard on (Y/N)', he swore to himself quietly as he watched.

You had fought with sero before so you both knew how to use each other's quirk to advance. You both quickly ran over the short plans A and B before starting. The round now started with a loud signal and both teams made their way to the middle, or so it seemed because you and sero made your way along the sides to ambush midoria and Denki from behind.

You and sero made sure to keep it stealthy and stayed low to the ground as you both knew midoria would be on top of the pipes. It didn't take too long until you both found Denki and wrapped him in Seros tape, making him immobile. A big pipe suddenly flew towards you 2 making you create a glowing pillar that shot up from the ground below you to launch you up in the air. You took the pillar mid-air and launched it at midoria who grabbed it but got engulfed in big glowing ropes as you morphed it.

Everyone watched in awe except bakugou who was boiling with rage more than usual balling his fist, knowing midoria he wouldn't go easy now. The fight dragged on for a few minutes with sero getting Denki to the 'prison' as quick as possible while you and midoria had a spar, after he broke through the ropes, with you staying in defense and slipping through the pipes and parkouring around, trying to lose midoria. He had trouble keeping up with you as you could easily slip through 2 pipes where he couldn't obviously fit through leaving him to find a way around. He was chasing you the best he could now from above as you ran below him between the seemingly endless pipes. Bakugou watched as he was on edge on the inside, obviously not showing it. 'Come on (Y/N), you have to remember what I taught you!' he thought in hopes it would come soon, and to his surprise you did remember. You jumped over one of the pipes before you took a very sharp turn by jumping against the next pipe, doing a backflip with a half twist, making you face the opposite way and run the way midoria came from and surprise him with the sudden change of ways. Using the moment as quickly as you could while he wasn't paying attention, you stomped on the ground hard while landing to shoot a pillar upwards from the ground and hit him in his torso. Bakugou smiled smugly as he watched Midoria crash into one of the pipes and fall rather hard to the ground as he held his chest. The fight was now over as you tied him up and put him in the 'prison' where Denki was in.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

You apologized to midoria for hitting him harder than intended after the fight before joining bakugou to spectate the next match with him hugging you from behind and setting his head on your shoulder. ,,So, how did I do hm?'' You smiled as you looked at him from the side making him look at you in return, a smug appearance on his face again.

,,I'm glad you remembered what I taught you, you would've lost if you didn't.'' He replied quietly as you chuckled. ,,Do you still feel pain?'' He asked you now as you shook your head in return. ,,I think the fighting exercise actually helped me.'' You said while remembering that you haven't felt any pain other than the ones from the fight itself.

He nodded at that and you both watched the next fight on the big screen, it was Kirishima with Tokoyami against Iida and Aoyama. The winner was pretty obvious as Aoyama was out of the fight rather quickly. The next fight was between bakugou and Mina against Kouda and Momo.

The Fight was also over rather quickly as Bakugou blasted everything around him with mina. As soon as the current and next battle was over you could all change and go back to your dorms.

It didn't take long before some of your classmates decided to watch something on TV and set down around it. You were now laying on the couch on bakugou as he read a book while you watched something on TV with a few other classmates. You tapped him on his arm to get his attention as he looked away from his book and towards you now. ,,Thank you for caring for me the last days by the way.'' You thanked him quietly so no one else would notice.

He nodded with a small smile and patted your head gently before going back to reading his book, you laid your head back down on him smiling, and continued to watch the TV.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Ahhhh I'm glad to finally finish this because it was so hard to write this with pain, tho I think I'm lucky to only have pain on my first day haha. anyways I hope you liked this as much as my other works. Don't forget to request stuff if you want to, Peace out!

[inactivewattpadauthor]

D'vorah x Reader: Roomates

"Shit." You tiredly mumbled as you dropped your keys, trying to unlock your front door. Finally, free from your long, draining shift, you enter your small house. Being greeted by the cozy scent and the carpet underneath your feet, you took a deep breath, finally eager to relax.

However, you must do something important: go eat. You're hungry.

Flicking on the switch to the dim light of the dining room connected to the small kitchen, you walked to the refrigerator to choose out your dinner.

Not having the energy to even use the microwave, you hummed in satisfaction as your eyes laid eyes on a simple paper bowl covered in foil at the top.

Grabbing the bowl, as well as a fork, you sat down at the dining table, slowly taking the foil off. Nothing as nice as a fresh sala-

"WHAT IN THE CONSULTATION OF THE ELDER GODS?!"

You immediately flipped your bowl of salad over as you saw something vile on it.... large maggots. Staring at them for a moment, trying to gather all your senses back, you yelled out:

"D'VORAHH!"

You heard a door open and the sound of scurrying that drifted close to your location. Standing there, angry and disgusted, hands on your hips, you waited for the culprit to show itself.

And there she was.

"Yes, Y/n?" The humanoid insect spoke to you with a noticeable annoyed tone due to your yelling.

Your eye twitched at the audacity for her to have that type of tone towards you, especially with what you just called her for.

"D'Vorah, tell me why your.... kids, or whatever the hell- What are they doing in MY food?! I told you to keep them outside."

D'Vorah blinked at you, seemingly not caring too much about your issue. "Did you consider your food has maybe spoiled?"

Giving yourself a face palm, you responded. "That was leftovers from just two days ago. Salad doesn't go bad that fast in a refrigerator!"

"This one doesn't know what to tell you then." She says and stands cross armed, not saying anything else.

"That one should've been left in that trap I found her in." You bickered to her.

"This one is not affected by your words."  D'vorah scoffed.

"Whatever- Just keep your critters outside, or that's where you'll be staying." You threatened.

"This one's natural habitat is outdoors. Your threat is nothing."

"Oh, then why don't you leave then if you're going to be perfectly fine out there. Especially if there's a lottt of people from different realms that want you dead for whatever reason."

(Insert scenes where D'Vorah killed Mileena/Scorpion/Baraka)

D'Vorah hisses at you in response before getting on all fours and scurry back to the room you gave her.

"That's what I thought."

Don't be bewildered, D'Vorah could absolutely floor you and use your body as a nest for her kind, but she couldn't kill a decent being that rescued her before she got caught (this is probably inaccurate).

And it's not like you're any sort of threat to her, as long as you don't have the Raid spray in your hand.

You allowed her to live under your roof, and it definitely hasn't been 100% pleasant to have a literal bug lady as a roommate.

For example, you tried teaching her chores. You know how flies will spit on their hands to clean them? Never let D'Vorah do the dishes... but hey, she can fly and dust the places you can't reach.

Also, there was once a time, when you weren't home, someone broke in and tried stealing your TV or something. D'Vorah chased them right out.

She definitely is some quirky roommate anyone could end up with, but you're safe... as long as she doesn't leave poison somewhere.

[viviennevermillion]

Benjamin Linus Trivia Headcanons

should i start writing for this fandom? would i get an audience from like, the 10 active lost blogs on tumblr.com? i can do reader-inserts and general stuff. have some random ben headcanons that live rent-free in my brain

warnings: some angst, mentions of child abuse (all my homies hate roger linus)

Ben learned to cook when he was still a kid. Roger didn't have a lot of interest in cooking anything and was probably fine living off microwaveable DHARMA meals and dry cereal. Ben often stayed over at Annie's house for dinner and learned early on how to manipulate conversations so they'd end with the adults giving him food or letting him stay for lunch or dinner because aside from that he didn't really get a lot of warm meals. Sandwiches were one of the first things he learned to make but it quickly evolved into complicated meals. He only ever cooked when his father was at work so Roger wouldn't demand to have some of the food as well and reprimand him if it wasn't to his liking. Ben eventually taught Alex how to cook.

Ben had the typical abused kid habit of hoarding stuff under his bed and wherever he could best hide his possessions in his room because he feared his father wouldn't approve of them or destroy them when he was drunk and enraged by a minor inconvenience.

This became a habit that continued way into adulthood. A lot of his drawers have secret compartment where he keeps items that aren't necessarily secret or vital to his plans but just a little more valuable to him than everything else he owns.

Ben became so used to lying as his default that after he becomes Hurley's #2 he has to actively correct himself. Hurley would ask him a question and Ben's immediate response is to lie before he goes "oh wait hold on-" and then says the truth.

After Alex dies, everytime he's in mortal danger he's struggling with the thought that now no one's going to remember the real him or hardly anything about him that wasn't based on a lie if he died

His favorite songs are "Uptown Girl" by Billy Joel and "New York, New York" by Frank Sinatra.

Has gone to Jacob's cabin at least once to rant about how much he thinks Goodwin sucks

One of those people who brush their teeth before breakfast

The thought that Jacob might not actually exist is definitely something that has occurred in Ben's mind and he tried to push that idea away everytime it creeped up on him.

Worst hay fever known to man. Is fine on the island but everytime he leaves it in spring or summer he has to pop 2 allergy pills a day to function normally

Has these cute little cat sneezes. People have definitely tried not to laugh about it in his presence.

He has never been held as a kid and it's very noticeable

Ben has been in many situations where his life was in danger but two of them include choking on cereal and attempting to teach himself how to drive after Roger refused to do it

Has never been drunk. Only over his dead body would he put himself into a situation where he's at risk of spilling all his secrets in an intoxicated state.

The music that plays in the bear cage when you earn a fish biscuit doesn't actually come from the DHARMA Initiative; it isn't in the Hydra Orientation video even though there's sound when they activate that mechanism. Ben added that music in retrospect for his own personal amusement. Definitely sat in the surveillance room snickering to himself whenever Sawyer got a fish biscuit.

He tried to draw an identikit of Jacob solely based on Richard's descriptions on more than one occasion.