#like prunes that have gone bad

[radioactive-earthshine]

Callout post to my partner for letting me taste this new Cola flavor that is "Raspberry Spice" and this shit is straight up cough syrup from 1958.

[dontwanderoff]

mutuals i am dumping homegrown zucchinis on your doorstep and running away

[milo-is-rambling]

REUNITED WITH FUNK!!! HE STILL LIVES AND REMEMBERS ME

[sophiethewitch1]

What We Want - Chpt. 3 - Dreams And...

In Which A Romantic Breaks The Universe

(Yandere!batboys x f!reader) 18+ MDNI!

SUMMARY

Another lonely birthday, another empty year. You miss your family. You're late for your bills and rent, and even then, you got robbed last Tuesday.

Still, you buy yourself a cupcake, because you need it. I mean, hey. What's dessert for if not to get over cheating boyfriends and dead relatives?

As you blow out the candle, watching the clock switch from 11:59 pm to midnight of the next day, you make a wish.

And because the world doesn't like to make much sense, it comes true. Your life is suddenly flipped on a dime, and you're stuck trying to catch up with it. Fantasy becomes reality. You're a Wayne now, apparently. Or you used to be. You're loved, you're rich, you're talented and powerful.

Well, sort of. Careful what you wish for, right?

(TRIGGER WARNINGS AND MASTERLIST HERE) - PLEASE REMEMBER TO CHECK, THIS CHAPTER IS DARKER IN TONE!

PREV - NEXT

Your hands are pruned. It’s quiet in the extravagant bathroom, other than the sound of the tap’s running water and your own shaky breathing. This was all a bit much. Your hands are more than clean now, but you absolutely do not want to go back out there.

You kind of just want to go back into one of the stalls and cry. A core girlhood experience, except you were an adult with a job and taxes. Or, you were. You think you’re some rich scion or something in this dream. Which like, cool, who wants to slave under capitalism anyways?

…You wonder if anyone would notice if you slipped out the window. You’d been gone for a while and nobody had come looking for you, since you’d totally gotten lost trying to find the bathroom. Sure, you were on the third floor, but at this point you were willing to risk it. Even if you couldn’t walk in a straight line right now, much less climb the trellises. For some reason, you could not handle your liquor today like you usually could. But once again, this was all just a very vivid dream, so it wasn’t like you could die.

To punctuate that thought, you hear someone scream.

It cuts off instantly, and then there’s quiet again. You pause, then turn off the tap, listening for any more sound. Drip, drip, drip… you press the tap down again and properly turn it off. Still no noise. Immediately, you realise you are standing directly in a horror film. You live in Gotham for fuck’s sake. It wasn’t an unlikely occurrence. You’d gotten mugged just a few days ago.

And you were alone in the bathrooms. So unbelievably drunk, and alone in the bathrooms. You were actually so dead, it was crazy. A dream, a dream…!

Your head bows, staring into the white porcelain of the sink as you focus hard on your hearing. You don’t think you could hear the party before, but you’re not sure. It’s definitely not there now. You swallow the dry pain in your throat, trying to summon a modicum of courage. Your vision spins.

You slap your wet hands to your face and then blink through your fingers. God. Okay, okay, okay. You can do this. You survived a mugging just last week with only minimal bruising. To convince yourself of your badassery, you dig your fingers into the blemishes, hoping to wake yourself up with the pain. It’s a bad habit but you have lots of those.

…Where’s the pain? Oh god, where’s the pain? Wait, don’t panic, it’s a dream! Of course, you wouldn’t have your bruises in a dream. That made total sense. And you definitely weren’t panicking.

You splash more water on your face. Time to face the music, you drunken moron. If you were going to be in a horror movie, you’d be the final girl of all final girls.

One hand on the sink, you take your heels off. They’re going to get in the way, and the sound of them clicking against the marble will give away your location. Massaging your sore ankles, you try and come up with a game plan. You don’t know what’s going on, and it really could all just be a false alarm, but better safe than sorry and all that. It’s a gala full of some of the richest people on earth, and you’re pretty sure you saw a swat team of security guards at the entrance.

So this was probably a hostage situation or a villain attack. You’d hear more noise if it was a supervillain fighting a superhero downstairs. Then you’ll bet on a hostage situation for now. Depending on who had taken you all hostage, that could be a totally fine situation where you all just end up leaving with lighter purses, or it could be the Scarecrow’s shown up and he’s about to mentally traumatise you. Like you needed any more of that.

Of course, this was all probably still a dream. Maybe if you say it enough times you’ll actually believe it. You’ll just plan ahead in case this is real (which it definitely isn’t). Plus you’d proven you could feel pain in this dream anyway, with all the times you’d slapped yourself. You hoped the fucking Tim Drake didn’t think you were too weird. Because he definitely thought you were weird.

It’s cool. You’re cool. You could handle this. You were a Gotham native after all. Totally cool. You have to force yourself not to gag on your own fear. Totally, absolutely, terrifically cool.

A few deep, calming breaths later, and you’re cracking the door of the lavatory open just an inch. You peer through the crevice, taking another deep breath when you don’t see anyone in the hallway. You push the door open a bit wider, peek your head around it to look the other way. Still empty. Another deep breath, you feel your chest rise and fall, and then you take the first step out onto the wooden floors. You wince at the slight noise the bare sole of your foot makes and hurry over to the long Persian rug to snuffle any more sounds.

And then you’re standing in the middle of the hallway in your ballgown, head swivelling back and forth as you try and catch any minuscule sounds, shoulders bunched up to your ears.

The first thing you need to check is the exits. Since you are on the third floor, and the banquet was on the first, you can assume that they’re well-guarded, but probably far away from you. Still, this is the Wayne Enterprises Tower, and there wasn’t just the party happening tonight. It was mostly empty as you’d seen but there’d been a few people you’d wandered past. They’d all seemed like late-night office workers, and the female janitor you’d bumped into was the one who had told you where the toilet was.

Was the janitor okay? Was that her scream you’d heard? Concentrate, dumbass. On airplanes, they tell you to put your mask on first before you do it for anyone else. The idea was the same here. Save yourself before you can hope to save anyone else.

That was… that was if you even needed saving. This could all still just be your own paranoia. Someone hit their knee on a ridiculously fancy side table or something. Like that scream wasn’t of pure terror. Like it didn’t sound like someone on death’s door.

Concentrate! Okay, check the stairs first. Don’t take the elevator, because you’re not an idiot. Maybe. Hopefully. Slowly but surely you creep your way back towards the entrance to the third level, where both the elevator and the stairs were. There was a map, too. You hadn’t been able to figure it out earlier, but you had a bit more incentive this time.

You make sure to place your feet carefully, aiming for the carpets and rugs. Even if your drunken steps miss half the time, you’re still mostly quiet. Every time you have to walk across a crossing you spend a minute listening, and then peer around every corner too. You’re not sure if you should be running, or if you really should try one of the windows.

Deep breaths. Keep moving. That’s the best course of action. Don’t get caught, but don’t just hide either.

It’s when you’re almost at the third-floor foyer when you hear something. There’s a crash, the sound of something breaking. No voices, though. Still, you can’t convince your body to move for a full minute. There’s a part of you that wants to go hide in an abandoned cubicle and wait, but there’s another part of you that is very aware of the rates of fires in this city. You keep going, taking a longer route to avoid the source of the crashing.

Another noise. A scream. Laughter. Spine-chilling laughter.

Shit, motherfucker. Why the hell did you get smashed at a fucking Wayne gala? Everybody knew the rogues of this city were totally obsessively in love with Bruce Wayne. Especially your own personal worst nightmare. You don’t dare even think his name, lest you summon the bastard.

Was he in Arkham right now? He should be. Like you should be at home in the Narrows getting a good night’s rest. Like you should be wearing dorky Flash pyjamas, not a dress more expensive than your rent.

He should be. It’s not nearly enough.

You realise, suddenly, that you have to make a choice here. You can walk away, pretend you didn’t hear anything, that you can’t hear anything. A woman’s cries, you think. You could leave her, save yourself. Hideaway and let whatever fate she’s facing befall her. Could you do that? Could you even stomach the idea?

In the end, the universe makes the decision for you.

“And who do we have here? What’s a pretty little thing like you doing wandering around?”

You hear your doom in his slimy voice, even though you didn’t hear him sneak up on you. Shaking, you raise your hands into the air, and slowly turn around. You see your doom in the twisted clown mask’s grin. For a second you think it’s really him, but then you notice his dark brown hair and the tanned skin under the mask. God, god, god. It’s a Joker goon. Your literal worst nightmare, given flesh. Is he here? No, no, no- You swallow down the urge to scream, to run, and do your best to keep thinking like a person and not a prey animal.

You feel like one. You think he knows that. You hope he doesn’t.

“Hey Travis, I found another one!” the man calls out, raising his gun to point at you. He jerks it, moving forward, and you turn back around obediently. The gun presses against the back of your head, and you move forward, obediently.

“Shithead, don’t say my name out loud!” another voice replies. You get to see its owner when you come around the corner and find the foyer.

There are five other people here, all tied up. Four seem to be exhausted office worker bees, who just stayed too late on the wrong day, and the last is the janitor who helped you. The kind lady gives you terrified eyes, but she’s the only one not crying among the hostages.

“Man, you worry too much. Like there aren’t hundreds of Travis’s in the city.”

“Just shut up, my god! If we leak info and it gets traced back to us, he’s docking our pay.”

Who’s he? Who’s fucking he?! He can’t be here, right? He fucking can’t be. You can’t, you can’t. God, you're going to vomit right here and now.

“Whatever. Anyway, this is the last person on this floor.”

“Check the feed again, dickhead,” the second one commands, obviously the leader between the two.

The one who caught you groans, and then you hear the sound of fabric shuffling. Is he looking at his phone? You wish you could turn around and look. You don’t dare with the barrel against you.

Your teeth dig into the side of your mouth. So did they have the security feeds? That meant you were doomed from the start. The only other option would’ve been to actually jump out one of the windows. They would’ve probably found you anyway. Hunted you down to meet their quota.

Shit. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. This is looking like a big deal. And everybody knew Joker never left out on his big deal jobs, he enjoyed them too much. He’s probably downstairs demanding the Batman come meet him and have tea or something. Shit.

All of a sudden these goons seem like the much better end of the deal.

“Checked, checked, double-checked, triple-checked… There’s nobody else here,” the man behind you grumbles, and the one in front of you sighs.

“Alright, alright. Bring her over, I’ll tie her up, and then we can blow this joint,” the man says, and you really, really hope he’s not being serious about blowing this place. You’d had enough of explosions, thank you very much. Especially ones organised by the Joker.

The gun digs harshly into your skull, “Well, go on.”

Swallow, swallow down your fear. Don’t let it stop you. You walk forward to the other man, arms in the air shaking. When you’re in reaching distance, the second goon roughly grabs you and shoves you to your knees. He pushes your hands in front of you, not bothering to tie them behind you. You don’t know if that’s a good thing or not.

The rope cuts into your skin. It’s going to leave marks, and bruises. The man finishes tying the knot and then pulls you back to your feet. Then he shoves you towards the elevator and turns to start picking up the other hostages. You turn so your back is toward the wall, not willing to have your eyes off the monsters for even a second.

It’s when he’s pushing one of the office workers towards you, that the second man speaks again.

“Hey, the boss said we had to kill one of ‘em.”

What? What did he say?

“Oh yeah, oops.”

The gunshot goes off before you can process the words. Before you can process the gunshot, the janitor’s body is crumpling to the floor. Before you can process her fall, blood is starting to seep from the wound in her chest. Before you can process any of that, the man behind you laughs.

He laughs. He laughs and laughs and laughs.

The janitor lies on the floor, blood seeping into her hair and uniform. You squeeze your eyes tight, tears slipping over the lids. You refuse to look at the wound. At the gaping hole in her chest. And despite yourself, you know why they shot her, not you. Not any of the workers either.

Because she wasn’t worth the cash.

Yesterday, that would’ve been you on the floor. You were a fake wearing a fancy dress, who didn’t belong here at all. Still, they didn’t know that. You didn’t think anybody knew that. Not anyone but you, who had woken up in a world a little to the left.

“I’ll be down in a minute, Trav. I wanna play with this one for a bit,” the shooter says, and all of a sudden you’re thrown back into your body, into your frail mortality. You’re cold, your spine gives a shiver, and your horrified eyes find the wretched clown mask.

Like you said, your doom. You wish you weren’t right all the time.

“No way. She’s one of the high-profilers, we need her,” his leader replies, and you’re desperate to stick by his side. You didn’t think a Joker goon would be your saviour, but here you were.

“I’ll give you five K of my split,” he offers, not willing to let go of it. Of you.

The other one pauses, glances at you assessingly. There’s a glint of something in his eyes, something that tells you you’re not making it out of here unscathed. It’s something you recognise, something you even recognise inside yourself.

It’s greed. And it’s going to kill you. You always knew it would, you just didn’t think it’d be like this.

“Make it seven,” he finally announces, the deal for your soul made without any fuss or fanfare.

“You’re such a hardass. Fine, fine, seven it is.”

“Alright, and only thirty minutes, tops. Not a hair on her head, you understand me?” he says over his shoulder, waggling a finger at his coworker.

The group leaves through the elevator. It dings, and you watch in mute, stunned horror as the other hostages refuse to meet your gaze. As they abandon you to save their own asses. You couldn’t really blame them, as much as you wanted to. You were ready to do the same earlier.

“I think not even a hair is pushing it, right?” the creep says, finger reaching out for said hair. You jerk back out of his reach, an instinctual flinch. He grins, and lets his hand fall back to his side. You take a shaky step backward.

You’re trembling with fear. With the need to get away from this terror, this situation.

He gestures with his gun, pointing back in the direction of the branching hallways.

“Well, go on. Run.”

And God help you, you do.

Spinning on your heel, you flee to the echoing sound of his laughter. Your feet fall rhythmically against the marble floors, the sound of your bare soles far too loud. You can’t even do anything about it. There’s no option for stealth here, only the sort of hunt you’d expect to find in the woods.

Not here in civilised mankind’s territory. But this was Gotham, and the monsters often looked human.

You dart into a large room filled with tiny square cubicles. A call centre or something, a maze of low walls that are too small to hide behind. You keep going, teeth-gritting when his laughter cuts off. He’s taking this seriously, hunting you down. You think he’s done this before. ‘Played’ with people.

You can’t worry about those other poor victims, lest you become his next one.

Another crash, this time to your left. Your head snaps to the side, eyes wide, but when you look there’s only a broken lamp on the floor. You have to swallow down the urge to cry. He is. He’s playing with you. He’s having fun with it.

You keep running, passing by halls and offices and don’t stop running till you can’t. Out of breath. You’re out of breath. You bend over, the stitch in your side too much for you to stand. Why are you out of breath? You can run more than this. You often run more than this when you’re late for your morning train.

What’s going on? What’s happening to you?

A bang, behind you. You spin around. Don’t see anything.

He’s nearby. Right under your nose. You need to keep running, you have to. Through your panting you hear his laughter again, and that’s enough fear to get you moving again. Maybe you were in Arkham, arms strapped to your side and screams wailing down the halls.

You didn’t believe it. No, not in this moment. Not right now, as you run for your life. If you lived through this, you’d probably go back to thinking it was all a dream or a delusion.

But with that monster nearby, there’s nothing this could be but real. With sweat dripping down your neck, smearing your makeup. With the feeling of your heart beating out of your chest, in your ears. With the blind, all-consuming panic you’re in.

He’s real. And he’s coming for you.

You lift your tied hands and press them to your lips, muffling the sound of your harsh breathing and soft sobs. Heart beating out of your ribcage, you push your body even as it screams for you to stop. You’re flagging. Vision’s swimming, and you can feel bile creeping up your throat. You can’t keep doing this. You need to keep doing this.

For a moment, you stop to catch your breath. And he catches you too.

You scream, tugging at the rough grip on him. He swings you around into a wall, and again, you cry out. Side throbbing with pain, singing with it. Still, you don’t stop. Can’t stop. Not safe, not safe, not safe. You push back against him, and he pushes back against you. Your drunken state is no match, and you tumble down onto the carpet. When he laughs, you look up at him, and he down at you.

The goon’s plastic mask merges with the Joker’s mutilated face, until you can’t tell the difference.

You aren’t the type to fight back. It’s just not instinctual to you. But when you hear his belt buckle clack, your foot kicks out before you can even think. You hit him squarely in the stomach, knocking him backward, and then you scramble away from underneath him.

“You bitch!”

He grabs you by the nape of your neck, yanking you backwards. You choke, hands grasping desperately at the grip around your throat, but he offers no relent. You’ve pissed him off. That doesn’t mean you can stop, can give up. You can’t stop fighting. Can’t stop struggling. Can’t stop, can’t stop, can’t stop-

The gun clicks. You freeze.

“Yeah, figured you’d be more obedient if I did that. Now, get up,” his voice is breathy, from the high of the chase or the hit you delivered, you’re not sure.

You hope it’s the latter. You hope this fucker drops and dies, right on the spot. You’re not that lucky, though.

Ah, your hands are hurting again. Not just the one, but both. Maybe you touched something. An allergic reaction of some sort. It shouldn’t be distracting you, it shouldn’t even be noticeable in the situation you’re in but god. The itchy heat is nearly as unbearable as the evil cretin in front of you.

“You think you’re gonna get away with that? I’m so fucking sick and tired of you whores who think you matter anything. You don’t, and I’m going to help you realise that,” he rants. His eyes are red through the tiny slits in the mask. Angry, dangerous, on the edge.

“Please, look I’m sorry,” you stutter out, stinging hands in the air. You want to run, but you think he’ll shoot if you do.

“You’re lucky I don’t fuck corpses.”

No, that doesn’t sound very lucky at all, actually. No, this seems like maybe it might turn out to be the new worst moment of your life. You don’t think it can get much worse than this, than the next moments that will pass. And it’s too much. It’s too, too much. Your palms are itchy and there’s a gun pointed between your eyes and the goon’s licking his lips and oh my god you’re going to die from an allergy before the bullet and-

And you just want it all to stop. You want it so desperately. You want the man in front of you to disappear, to never exist again, to go right down to hell where he belongs. You just want him gone.

Your hands stop hurting. The burning heat disappears. It’s quiet again. You can’t hear him laughing, the awful slick sound of him licking his lips. You can’t feel the cool iron on your forehead, the heat from his body so close. You can’t smell his sweaty stench. Your eyes open.

…There’s no gun. There’s no man.

You crumple to the ground with a relieved sob. Fisted hands lift to your eyes, as big blubbery tears stream down your face. Your shoulders shake with your cries. Your heart is screaming in your chest, trying to beat out of it. He’s gone, somehow. You’re alive, somehow. You’re not dead with a bullet in your brain, somehow. Somehow, somehow, somehow.

An impossibility. It’s an impossibility, and you’re so goddamn grateful for it.

As always, you don’t give yourself long to cry. Even as your tears still fall, even as you lick them off your mouth, tasting salt and lipstick and fear, you push to your feet shakily. You almost fall over with your hands still tied, shouldering the wall next to you for balance. You don’t have time to cry. No time to process what just happened. You need to get to safety.

You creep back into the main area, heart pounding in your ears, breath hiccuping. You don’t know how long it takes for you to get there. Ten minutes, thirty, maybe even an hour. When you try the staircase door, it doesn’t open. You yank on the handle, grab a chair and try and smash it in, but it stands strong. Fuck. You try the elevator as a last-ditch effort, but the buttons don’t respond.

You press your overheated forehead to the cool metal. Okay. Okay. Okay, okay, okay.

You turn around and storm back into the cubicle space, find one at the edge of the room with a clear view of all the doors, and tuck yourself under the desk. Pulling your knees to your chest, you resist the urge to rock yourself like a baby.

And you sit there, and you watch, and you wait. It doesn’t matter how many hours pass, you are not moving from this spot. It doesn’t matter how heavy your lids feel, how the adrenaline leaving your body has you sagging.

You’re not going to sleep. It’s not safe, and you’re not dying today. You’re simply not.\

You’re not allowed to.

-

A hand touches your shoulder, and you snap awake. Your fist slings out at the would-be attacker, but they dodge it smoothly. When you rear up for another, they move back, hands in the air in a show of surrender. Panting, you don’t lower the fist, your vision swimming.

It’s the Joker. But the Joker wouldn’t back up, right? And the Joker isn’t red, he’s green and purple.

It takes a while for the Joker’s pale, laughing face to disappear. But when you blink and he’s gone, you find someone else underneath. A red mask, a man you think you recognise from TV. A vigilante. God, you hated the vigilantes in Gotham.

Not more than the Joker. Not more than him.

The man stays a safe distance away, gloved hands firmly in the air. He’s tall, really tall. Broad-shouldered, scary. But he’s a vigilante, right?

Is he here to save you? Someone should've by now. The bastard's late then.

He says your name, you think. You can’t hear him properly. Wait no, it’s a nickname, one you haven’t heard in years. You could barely remember your mother calling you that as she tucked you in, as she told you she loved you over the phone, as she disappeared from the world entirely.

You hadn’t let anyone call you that since.

How does he know that name? How does this bastard know your name?

“-hurt? Hey, hey. Listen to me, are you hurt anywhere?” his voice is deep and warbled through the red metal mask, his eyes peering down at you through his domino. You just stare at him, eyes wide, barely breathing.

You need to know how he knows. Unconsciously, your hand reaches up to him, and after a moment, he takes it in his own firm grip. It’s awkward, as you’re still sitting half under the desk and he’s trying to stay as far away from you as possible. Still, his hand is warm through the leather, grounding, keeping you from drifting off into panic and fear. Into your worst nightmares come to life.

Because this was real. It didn’t matter that it was impossible, it was real. You simply couldn’t deny it any longer, this was all real.

You stare at this stranger’s gloved hand like it holds the answers to the universe. It might, in the end. It really just might. It wasn’t like the universe was making much sense at the moment.

“She seems fine. Uninjured, if a bit shocked. Doesn’t seem to have a concussion. Hardly responding anyway,” Red Hood speaks, but not to you. An earbud, you think. Superheroes used wiretaps and things like that all the time, right?

If you could even consider Red Hood a superhero. Everybody knew he had his own gang. Of course, even as your very life is being saved, it’s by a morally grey hero who runs around with crowbars and guns. Ah, you’re crying again.

You told yourself a long time ago that you wouldn’t let yourself cry anymore. And you’d managed it, mostly. You think you’ll give yourself a pass for today, just a little one. You hold this stranger’s hand, and you cry.

You just cry. You cry, and you hold the hand of some stranger you hate, because you have to.

MASTERLIST - NEXT

[wh1sp3rr]

𑊡˚+₊🕯️✦ — show & tell + bkg; drabble

cw: nsfw, aged up, fluff, established relationship, fingering, dialogue driven, afab! reader, softdom! bkg!

-ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ-

“like this?”

you pull your lip in at the slight discomfort of bakugo’s fingers mushing around in you jabbing rhythmlessly. you try to feel your way into the pleasure, raise and angle your hips in every which way but now it’s just starting to hurt rather than be simply discomforting.

you grab his wrist and the skin between bakugo’s brows crease at your face’s contortion.

“no wait, katsuki— stop,” you whine, and his fingers slip out of you with prunes from how long they’ve been stuck inside.

“am i doing it wrong?” he questions.

“no…yes?” you pull your underwear up, “i don’t know, it just doesn’t feel good. it, like, literally feels like your fingers are inside me.”

“ain’t that the point?” he says with genuine confusion.

“well, yeah,” you nod, “but like, it feels objective, like it’s a fact that they’re inside and there’s no intangible feeling or like, i don’t know, sensuality.” he leans against his arm as you say this, face squishing against the bone of his palm.

you mirror his action and huff another ‘i don’t know.’ katsuki’s still got a hard on, you can tell from how cheaply he tries to pinch his legs together, obviously not trying to make you feel bad. you express mirth at his concern.

“what?” he smiles back, sharp canines appearing in the stretch of his mouth.

you sigh, “you’re obviously still horny.”

bakugo falls into the bed, face pressed into the duvet, and elongates a; “yes, cuz you’re still sitting there looking so pretty,” and he jokingly presses his palms into prayer hands.

“get the fuck out of here,” you play coy, shoving his face away with a hand that he manages to kiss the palm of. he sits upright and starts combing your hair out of your face repeatedly with a handsome statement in mind.

“why don’t you show me?” you blush at his boldness. though he was a proud figure of confidence and wasn’t afraid to speak his mind, you two were still new to your relationship, not having gone all the way yet. “show me instead of telling me. here, grab my hand and guide me, baby.”

your eyes are watchful as he places his hand in yours, so keen and intent on ensuring your pleasure and not just his own. “baby, come on.” he shakes you out of your daydream to which your face remains in a similar countenance of watchfulness as you comply with his suggestion.

slowly do you guide his hand back down to your lacy thong, slipping underneath with shyness. you play puppeteer with his fingers and let them press into your folds, teasing the outside first.

lustful circles going round and round and, then up and down back to ellipsing again. your mouth falls agape as your throat croaks newfound pleasure. katsuki kisses your cheek lovingly looking down at the lewd motion, “there you go,” your nose wrinkles with a smile at this.

“i like it on the outside first,” your words are overshadowed with arousal, almost too quiet to hear, but bakugo can just make out your sentence, what with how close he is to your lips.

“mhm,” he hums, “i can see that,” boyish chuckles charming the observation. his eyes are narrowed in on the slip and slide of your sandwiched fingers and how your head rocks back and forth accordingly. the sight is an eyesore, “fuck,” he breathes out, kissing your open mouth.

you messily kiss back, tongue swishing over his lips wantonly. “inside now,” you moan and bakugo looks down again, moaning with you when his fingers are sucked in so welcomely.

“fuck baby, you have no idea how sexy you look right now,” his lips pop against your neck as you lean into him, humming in agreement, “so fucking sexy,” he says in a hushed tone, almost to himself.

“kat,” you struggle with cracks of whines coming through.

“yes?”

you moan higher, signalling to your impending climax. “i know baby, i know,” and his mouth is gaped in absolute awe and complete groan when he starts plunging into you himself, the control now his as he applies his newly taught lesson into practice.

your plushy walls stretch against him as his fingers melt against you in deliberately sedate motions, driving you further to your release. wetness up to his knuckles as he continues his leisurely pattern until you muster up the coherence of his name, “katsuki,” you drawl out the final syllable.

“i’m just teasing, baby.” and he pecks your cheek like before till he finally expedites his fun with you until your hand claws at his nape and your thighs become taut as you ride out against his fingers still deep in you.

katsuki’s fingers remain in you when you both laugh and he swipes away your sweat slicked hair from your forehead twice to see more of your pretty face. “you happy now?” he taunts, head titling with his playful question.

“stop it,” you giggle, and you both kiss with a loud ‘mwah,’ “no that was really good.”

“yeah?” katsuki cheeses with pride.

“yeah, like really really good,” you overlap his response with glee and he’s clearly happy to hear that, his shiny fingers a trophy to him.

“show me what you want more often, okay?” his voice is sincere and you can’t help but pull in a downward smile, tiny dimples evident in this.

“okay, katsuki.”

[charcubed]

"What did we do wrong?" "I don't know."

🙋🏻 I think I might.

It's the hot cocoa.

Or rather… it's Loki semi-unintentionally siding with Sylvie over Mobius.

In this episode, that's the tipping point. And so is lack of trust.

What we just watched is the version where things go very wrong and they fail.

But here's the delightful part to remember: things had to go wrong exactly like this, so eventually things can go very right. Because as "wrong" as this was, it had at least one purpose: Loki pruning himself.

That being said... "What's wrong?"

We've got a list.

-Timely's gone.

-Miss Minutes is back (and so is Renslayer).

-Dox and her team are dead.

Now work it backwards.

Miss Minutes / Renslayer get in, Brad is freed, and Dox and her team are killed. D-90 isn't there.

Why isn't he there?

He was sent to be with Victor.

D-90 is killed and Victor is taken at the hot cocoa machine, which delays everything.

Why are they at that machine?

Because Mobius got cocoa.

Why did Mobius get hot cocoa?

Because he wanted pie, but Sylvie yelled at him.

And when Loki didn't defend him in that crucial moment and actually walked away from him instead, Mobius simply got hot cocoa by himself as a pick-me-up.

Therefore: Lokius is the tipping point.

What did they do wrong?

What happened?

Loki and Mobius were separated and weren't on the same page. THAT'S what happened. And so, everything fell apart.

Words – or the lack of them, in Loki's case above when he didn't defend Mobius – can change everything.

For good or for bad.

(These shots are back to back:)

Lack of trust is also why things fall apart.

Sylvie attacks Mobius because he walks away, trusting the work to O.B. and Casey and Victor.

She can't fathom that. She sees it as a weakness. But it's one of his greatest strengths, and it's their only way forward.

It's also part of the "trust for others" theme that's been present from the very first episode of the show, and it's a primary lesson that Loki's first had to learn through his relationship with and love for Mobius.

And the necessity of trust is showcased throughout this episode in other places. Sylvie accuses Loki of putting a lot of faith in the others, and simultaneously she keeps talking about the TVA as a corrupted place / institution instead of seeing the individual people capable of change.

But Loki explains to her that it's about the people. He lists the names of his new family – the people he trusts – as being the heart of things. What's worth saving and worth fighting for.

Brad and Dox are mirroring the trust theme here too, of course.

Brad doesn't trust B-15, and he doesn't pick trusting or aligning with anyone. He dooms Dox and the others to die.

But she sees the big picture and is willing to die with integrity rather than betray the PEOPLE of the TVA.

And Victor?

He says he doesn't trust anyone… but then he chooses to change. With O.B., he chooses to have a partner.

(Not dissimilar to the ways we've seen Loki change over the show, too.)

And were it not for the ~hot cocoa,~ in THIS regard, things were going "according to plan."

So as Victor says in the season 2 trailer in a clip we haven't heard yet (!!!): they have to "make the hard choice," of course.

Trust each other, work to fix what's broken, have hope, and STAY.

And Loki and Mobius, the personification of chaos and order in balance, HAVE to stay together or it turns to shit.

Loki can't turn into a better leader if he ends up being Who Remains all by himself. He's gonna need his partner and the rest of his people for the TVA to truly change.

But how are they gonna do that if they all just blew up? Lmao.

Well… that part of the theory's a work in progress.

But this involves both butterfly effects and time loops. Somehow we'll likely be going backwards to earlier versions of them that will be trying again.

And depending on just how far back they go… Loki and Mobius' influence on each other may be a snake eating its own tail, just like Ouroboros and Victor.

Regardless, pretty sure Mobius is correct here. As he tends to be, lol.

It's gonna be Loki's turn. God of Mischief becoming the Loki Who Remains that Mobius needs, etc.

And it always comes down to the two of them at the heart of things, somehow.

Last thing:

I'm not convinced those versions of them all survived the blast that happened because of these wrong turns, to be honest with you.

But if anyone did… the gods did.

And they're (hopefully) not gonna make the same mistakes twice.

---

Originally posted as a thread on Twitter here.

My other Loki posts on Tumblr are under the tag "chars loki posts."

[lookismfanfics]

𝐁𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐁𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐬

Note: I have a couple of requests that I’m still working on in my drafts, which I’m very excited about, but this idea came to me and I figured I’d release some fluff while I can~ ♡︎

Warnings: Fluff, mentions of abuse, implied nudity (sfw), mentions of violence, blood, mild cursing. James’ is angsty and went off track of being “fluffy” and “bubble bath-y”.

Warren • Eli • Olly • Vasco • Jerry • Brad • James • Samuel

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧

🝮 You rap your knuckles lightly against the bathroom door, staring down at the grimy wood floor.

🝮 “Can I come in?”

🝮 There’s a pause before Warren replies. You hear the water churning, and listen as he heaves a shaky sigh

🝮 “Yeah… come in.” His voice is slightly muffled, but you swing open the door anyway

🝮 You would’ve never pictured yourself in this situation. Never in a million years.

🝮 You stare at Warren, eyes quickly glossing over his tightly formed muscles covered in bruises, making your way to his side in the dingy bathtub.

🝮 Warren sits still, avoiding eye contact as you squeeze more soap into the water.

🝮 “This was the only stuff I could find,” you say apologetically, pouring in a good portion of the bubbles

🝮 Soon the dank hotel bathroom smells like honeysuckle and the tub is filled with sudsy puffs of foam.

🝮 Warren closes his eyes, turning his face away from you.

🝮 His attempts to hide the hue of color rising to his cheeks fails, and you will away the smirk that threatens to form at the sight.

🝮 You and Warren are only in that broken down hotel because A, it’s the only place you could afford, and B, he was running away again.

🝮 Max and Derek were off on their own… Warren lost track of them after their first encounter with the police.

🝮 So here you were, sitting with Warren in a cheap hotel, tending to him after he got himself in another fist fight.

🝮 “Another win?” You ask, wetting your washcloth with the warm water.

🝮 Warren nods, finally looking at you. You’re perched on the side of the tub, a concerned expression adorning your features.

🝮 Warren feels a hollow drop in his stomach, feeling exposed beneath your heavy gaze.

🝮 Your thumbpad rubs slow circles against his jaw as the both of you fight off embarrassment, your warm fingers soothing your pounding hearts

🝮 The washcloth dabs away at the blood on his neck as you slowly clean off his cuts and scrapes.

🝮 “How long (do I have to stay with) you (in this) stupid (place?)” he grumbles, feeling a touch of guilt for dragging you into his mess and forcing you into this awkward situation.

🝮 Why are you suddenly looking at him like that?

🝮 “Warren I don’t think you finished your sentence…” you glare, wiping away at the dry blood on his pectorals.

🝮 “(Oh…) sorry.”

🝮 Warren’s face continues to heat up with embarrassment as your eyes roam over his body. You yourself feel your cheeks growing warm.

🝮 “Once I finish up we should head to bed. I’ll take you to Hostel in the morning,” you murmur quietly.

🝮 Warren stares at the foamy bubbles, his expression gone blank

🝮 The warm water, earthy smell, and gentle scrubs slowly melt him as he relaxes into the tub.

🝮 You wash off the bloody towel in the sink, glancing over at Warren’s athletic form.

🝮 “…It was bad again… wasn’t it?” You ask quietly, ringing out the cloth with pruned hands.

🝮 You aren’t talking about the street fight.

🝮 Warren subconsciously closes his legs, his hands moving to his thighs and mindlessly drawing foamy bubbles closer to himself

🝮 “(Well) he was mad (about the runaway thing). He got on me for (not finishing) my sentences.”

🝮 You nod, approaching Warren once again.

🝮 Your hands move over his body tenderly, scrubbing him down with a gentle touch.

🝮 The sweet-smelling bubbles float into your face and hair, curtesy of Warren “accidentally” splashing you.

🝮 You assume most of the bruises below his waistline are from the caretaker… and are sure to be gentle as you scrub down there

🝮 The dank bathroom, filled with the warm smell of honeysuckle, is where Warren drifts off to sleep. You use the towel to ruffle his hair and help him out of the bath. All those foamy bubbles are down the drain.

𝐄𝐥𝐢

🝮 “Eli you should take a bath…” you had told him.

🝮 He had been sitting on the couch, staring up at the ceiling while he rubbed at his arms and legs.

🝮 “It’s okay, I already showered. I’m more sore than I am dirty,” he looked at you, smiling tersely.

🝮 You deadpanned, and gave him a how-could-you-be-so-stupid look.

🝮 You told him the facts: taking a warm bath would help sooth his aching muscles, and that he should try it if he wanted some relief.

🝮 He was a real lazy-teen-dad about it until you started running the water. 🥔

🝮 “Too late to turn back now, bro.” You crossed your arms and smirked. (Sally was very proud of you)

🝮 So that’s how you ended up here…

🝮 You’re looking through the cabinets, avoiding looking behind you as Eli lays naked in the hot tub, most likely giving you a dead glare.

🝮 You look for the bubble bath solution- the athletic soap that you had given Warren for Christmas.

🝮 It’s not there… and the only alternative you can find is…

🝮 “Yenna will be so pleased…” you grimace, squeezing more of the baby-bubble solution into the tub.

🝮 It smells almost unnatural- like baby powder or something.

🝮 Eli doesn’t seem to notice. He leans his head back against the tile, closing his eyes in contentment.

🝮 You avoid staring until the suds of bubbles have completely covered his lower areas. After all, you gotta be polite around Big Daddy.

🝮 On your knees, you kneel down beside Eli, scrubbing at his shoulders with your soapy washcloth

🝮 You don’t notice, but he opens his eyes to look at you

🝮 Eli has always seen you from a special perspective. That’s what how he pictures as you lean over him, hands gently and meticulously rubbing up and down his biceps; his eyes dark but soulful, watching you as though someday he’s going to loose you… and if he blinks you might disappear; you’re special.

🝮 You feel the damp warmth of of his hand cupping the back of your neck, prompting you to catch Eli’s gaze.

🝮 He’s barely a breath away, his lips closer to your face than you can remember.

🝮 “(Y/N)…”

🝮 The door creaks open.

🝮 Your sandals slip on the wet floor.

🝮 A spray of bubbles and bath water accompany your splash as you flip into the tub

🝮 Eli: 😨😳🫣

🝮 You: 😶‍🌫️

🝮 Sally: 😲

🝮 Sally slams the door shut, apologizing profusely, leaving you and Eli helpless in the bathtub.

🝮 “I’m so sorry! Sorry! I was just coming to bring you Warren’s bath soap!”

🝮 Eli casts you a sharp glance, evidently embarrassed and trying desperately to redirect his attention.

🝮 “(Y/N)… whose soap is this…?” 🫧

𝐎𝐥𝐥𝐲

🝮 You kneel down by the side of the tub awkwardly, placing the container of bubble bath solution on the base.

🝮 “Does it feel nice?” Is the only lame remark that comes to your mind.

🝮 Olly is oddly quiet, leaning his head back onto the wall and absorbing in the steam.

🝮 “Feels awesome!”

🝮 You smile, once again feeling awkward, mindlessly poking your finger into the water.

🝮 ❗️

🝮 “OUCH! OLLY-!” You yank your finger out from the piping hot water, wiping the flushed tip against your shirt.

🝮 He looks at you, startled, his emotions a flurry of turmoil

🝮 “What the hell?!” He exclaims

🝮 You shoot him a sharp glance, turning down the water knob to a colder setting

🝮 “That water is burning hot Big Daddy…” you murmur, sliding your fingers into the water to check the temperature.

🝮 Olly doesn’t say anything; he wordlessly grabs the soap and bath bomb dunks it into the cooler water.

🝮 “I mean I knew it was hot! I’m not that stupid-!” He laughs, splashing you with the newly formed suds of bubbles

🝮 They smell like herbs… but you turn your nose up in disgust nonetheless

🝮 “You just couldn’t tell it was burning your skin?” You ask, grabbing his pink-washed arm and scrubbing with the bath sponge.

🝮 He nods, using his free hand to push back the dreadlocks that fall onto his forehead.

🝮 “Please wash your hair—”“Nope!”

🝮 More puffs of bubbles launch into the air as Olly flicks water at you, “You’re such a buzz-kill! It pisses me off!”

🝮 You glare at him steely. However… you’re aware violence won’t work on him… and you’re technically below him in the ranks.

🝮 “…Can you stop training with that guy? He’s not teaching you proper hygienics.”

🝮 Olly grows silent, sinking into the foamy water with a quiet “shut up…”

🝮 You wipe off the dry blood from the dips and grooves in his toning muscles, ever-so-gently.

🝮 Olly knows that his body is temporary— he’s wasting it imprudently and he needs to be more careful. But it confuses him as to why you, of all people, are so gentle with him.

🝮 Even if your touch feels dull and light against his skin; he can sense you treat him gingerly, like he’s fragile or something. (Which he is… and he knows it.)

🝮 He catches your eyes roaming freely down his tattered body, ogling at the bruises and scratches that would’ve winded a normal person.

🝮 He splashes you with more bubbles.

🝮 Why do you have to be so serious all the time?!

🝮 It’s killing the mood…

🝮 And it’s making him blush.

𝐕𝐚𝐬𝐜𝐨

🝮 You walk into the bathroom and it smells like peaches.

🝮 The tub is already filled, and you’ve already inserted the bath-bomb. The surface of the water is dyed orange and cream; little bubbles hide in the corners of the tub.

🝮 “You can get in now,” you call. “The water’s ready.”

🝮 You remain squatted by the side of the tub, but your eyes are glued to the ground. You’re not looking up, no matter how much you may or may not want to. Vasco made you swear it.

🝮 You hear his bare feet slap against the bathroom tiles, and listen as he sucks in an awed breath.

🝮 “That’s what the bathbomb does?” His voice sounds deep and monotonous, but you can sense his radiating excitement. Knowing Vasco, he’s probably flushed with pleasure.

🝮 “Uh huh. Hop on in.”

🝮 He’s sweet… he didn’t want to embarrass you by flaunting his impressive physique around the bathroom without any clothes on.

🝮 And yet you sit there by his side, pouring soap onto a bath sponge, clearly still embarrassed.

🝮 Once he’s actually in the tub, and the colored water has completely covered the things you aren’t allowed to see… it’s smooth sailing.

🝮 Euntae eases into the tub, dozing off and relaxing. You can’t help but smile; you had been absolutely right when you told him that he’d like it.

🝮 He was more sore than usual, apparently, so you had suggested an ice bath or a hot soak. Jace agreed… as long as you took care of the whole thing.

🝮 “I’m not the one he’s in love with,” he waved dismissively, smirking in satisfaction with the way you grew silent.

🝮 “Jace he loves you more than he loves me…” you had insisted, but it was no use.

🝮 Vasco turns to you, a goofy smile on his face, his expression tender.

🝮 “Do you wanna get in with me?” “Euntae!”

🝮 You flick water at him, shaking your head defiantly, trying to hold back your smile.

🝮 “Do you?” His smile only broadens.

🝮 You shrug, lazily splashing more water in his direction.

🝮 Who would’ve guessed that one move would be the downfall of your peaceful bath.

🝮 Vasco, in short, still hasn’t mastered the art of restraint when it comes to water fights.

𝐉𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲

🝮 The door into the sitting room opens, and you quickly sweep your eyes around for anyone nearby.

🝮 Surely the world hates you. You grimace, opening the door fully to face the wrath of Big Deal’s number three, four, and six.

🝮 You walk with feigned confidence over to the grocery bag near the table, rummaging through the inside anxiously.

🝮 Brad and Lineman watch you from the couch; The former sets his drink down to observe you better. Neither of them say anything, but they draw Jason’s attention to you.

🝮 “What’re you doing?” he asks accusingly, effectively halting your movements with little to no effort.

🝮 “I’m trying to find the soap…” you reply offhandedly, keeping your eyes on the bag as you finally find the container.

🝮 “Who needs soap?” Brad chimes in with a tone leagues less intimidating than Jason’s.

🝮 “Uh- Jerry,” you answer nonchalantly, straightening up with a blank expression.

🝮 As usual, the subject of Jerry Kwon is one you handle with calculated disinterest. You don’t smile when you mention him, you keep your expression indifferent and make an effort not to appear otherwise.

🝮 And yet, somehow, even Brad and Lineman get the impression that there’s more to it than that.

🝮 Jason in particular sees straight through your bluffs, eyeing you steely with a hint of annoyance. He’s guessed there’s more to your feelings for Big Deal’s number two than meets the eye.

🝮 But can he call you out on it? No.

🝮 “What does he need soap for?” he quips, crossing his legs and staring at you expectantly.

🝮 “He’s taking a bath…?” Once again, you regulate the amount of emotion you express. You don’t show the slightest hint of giddiness of embarrassment.

🝮 “Anyways, I’m off guys~ Jerry needs me.”

🝮 And with that you leave the room, swinging the door shut behind you and making your way towards the bathroom.

🝮 You knock courteously, but before he can answer you’ve opened the door and thrown the bottle of soap across the bathroom. You hear it plop into the water; your eyes are squeezed shut as you close the door behind you.

🝮 “Pour it all in, okay? I’m not opening my eyes until the bubbles are all sudsy.”

🝮 Jerry just sits there with the canister of bubble bath soap in his hands, his large body feeling uncomfortable and cramped in the dingy bathtub, blood still trickling down his forearms. He’s frozen for a solid thirty seconds… and then he obeys

🝮 You don’t look until you feel a damp foam land on your nose, and your eyes shoot open.

🝮 Jerry looks innocent, pretending he totally-did-not-just-splash-you-with-bubbles. You rub your nose, glaring playfully.

🝮 “You just let the kids hit you?” You ask quietly, readying the washcloth in the sink. In your peripherals you catch Jerry nodding.

🝮 “I didn’t want to hurt them. I think they were on something…”

🝮 You smile musingly; typical Jerry. You toss the washcloth at him to use, preparing another one for yourself.

🝮 For the next half hour or so you sit by his side, wiping away at the scrapes and bruises on his arms and on his knuckles.

🝮 Do you both feel incredibly shy? Yes. Who wouldn’t feel shy when they’re in a room with the biggest hunk who happens to be naked. And besides, Jerry is Jerry. What’s not to feel flustered about? And who wouldn’t feel shy, being in the bathtub completely naked with arguably the most attractive member of Big Deal? After all… (Y/N) is (Y/N).

🝮 “Talk about puppy love,” Brad laughs, staring down the hallway and listening to the rumble of your voice mingled with Jerry’s.

🝮 Jason rolls his eyes, “They’re messing with Jerry’s head. They should just get a room already.”

🝮 Lineman glances wonderingly between the other two, “How long has this been going on?”

🝮 “Forever.”

𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝

🝮 Brad doesn’t know what to think…

🝮 The warm glow of the scented candles littering the room is the only light source in the bathroom. They’re everywhere, scattered against the rim of the tub and across the sink counter.

🝮 A few bubbles float across the transparent water, but he doesn’t complain. He never complained in the first place. He never even asked for this.

🝮 And— there you are again, swinging open the door with a bundle of items in your arms.

🝮 Brad has been watching you bustle in and out for ten minutes…

🝮 You can’t help it, honestly, there’s just a lot of things you had planned and now you’re forgetting everything 😔

🝮 You kneel beside the tub, placing your items on the floor, “Okay, I got a couple different soap brands because I wasn’t sure which scent you’d like… uhm,” you glance up to meet his gaze

🝮 Brad just stares at you, listening attentively with a slight furrow in his brow. You quickly look down again, unable to maintain eye contact at the moment.

🝮 “So… yeah. I also brought some bath bombs— they’ll just color the water and stuff. And then here’s the sponge and-”

🝮 “(Y/N)…?” He interjects uncertainly, “Why are you so nervous?”

🝮 Ugh… oh well

🝮 You shrug, keeping your gaze fixated on the floor

🝮 Brad’s damp finger drags beneath your chin to meet your eyes, concern washed over his features.

🝮 Rizz 🕺

🝮 “I knew Big Deal’s (Y/N) (L/N) was a bit overrated… but I never figured they were a downright tomato.”

🝮 “I don’t blush you twerp!” You smack the side of his head

🝮 Brad just sinks into the water, a lighthearted smile on his lips, clearly smug.

🝮 “Whatever hippo,” you battle off your embarrassment (do I really turn red? Is that possible? With my complexion can you even tell?) and toss in a pink bath bomb

🝮 And for the rest of the time you enjoy your little self-care date; basking in the aroma of the scented candles, soaking in the warmth of the water (or at least Brad does).

🝮 Brad is eventually convinced to turn into Brenda, and gives you a manicure

𝐉𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬

🝮 The bathroom is small and steamy.

🝮 It’s a three-in-one… hair, body, and bubble bath. It claims to calm and smooth children, and apparently smells like lavender.

🝮 That’s the soap you pour into the tub anyways, even if lavender isn’t his favorite scent.

🝮 Soon the fluffy white bubbles are dyed rustic red, and the water turns a light copper. The shower head sprays water into his sweaty flop of hair; trails of blood and water wash down the sides of his sickeningly blank face.

🝮 You turn off the shower, facing him with a sigh.

🝮 James Lee just sits there, returning your gaze with an expression of pure boredom.

🝮 His messy array of red hair blends in perfectly with the blood staining his hands. You kneel beside him, grabbing a washcloth and beginning to scrub away at the metallic liquid.

🝮 “How much of it is yours…?” you ask

🝮 “Do you really wanna know?”

🝮 A smirk ghosts his lips; all of James’ flamboyance and arrogance summed up in a single move.

🝮 You had already concluded that was the case. Most of the blood wasn’t his own.

🝮 You feel awkward— pampering him even if he had been busting up thugs a few minutes ago. James doesn’t seem to mind, or care really, about the attention you’re giving him.

🝮 The foamy bubbles, dim romantic lighting, and calming aroma differ drastically with the actual situation.

🝮 You scrub across James’ toned chest and up to his tense neck, dragging a trail of soap and water across his damp skin. He watches you intensely, searching for something you’re seemingly unaware of.

🝮 The mood is somber; the tension thick; you want very badly to rush out of the room

🝮 You’re still confused as to what James wants from you. After all, he didn’t seem to show any interest or concern for anyone but himself. He had rescued you from some assaulters— but not to benefit you. He had done in for “kicks.” Excitement. Thrill. Something? So why was James keeping you around? Did he want friendship? An alliance? Or maybe you were just missing a hint. Maybe you’re being stupid.

🝮 His nonchalance, disinterest, and callous demeanor meant something, didn’t they? He was using you… but he wasn’t interested in you… right?

🝮 James Lee was so stupidly confusing. You tried connecting the dots to his end goal. You tried searching for his objective. And so far you couldn’t find anything.

🝮 You followed him because he told you to. He confided in you because you said he could.

🝮 Somehow you couldn’t reach a conclusion as to what your relationship was with this red-headed hotspur.

🝮 Maybe it was the heat that was driving you delusional. Or the lavender scent was too strong, and it was messing with your head.

🝮 You retracted your hand from its place against James’ back, laying the washcloth against the rim of the tub.

🝮 His dark eyes follow your movements, his focus solely on you.

🝮 “What do you want James? All you seem to care about is fighting and conquering… and all I seem to be to you is another string attached to your victory-parade.”

🝮 It’s a serious question.

🝮 Depending on how he answers, you’re more than willing to pack it up and head home right here and now.

🝮 James, the arrogant jerk, turns away from you and sinks into the water.

🝮 He takes a second to think and closes his eyes, stupidly long lashes resting almost angelically on his cheeks

🝮 “You aren’t part of my victory-parade, conquering-sham, or whatever you wanna call it. You just happened to get involved.”

🝮 You pause before countering, “So then I’m really just a string attached. This… doesn’t mean anything.”

🝮 James opens his eyes, turning his angular face towards you, damp red fringe sticking to his forehead. He looks handsome. Always has.

🝮 A wolffish smirk spreads across his face; it’s an expression that will be the death of you. “I never said that, or even implied it. You’re different ‘cause you’re my (Y/N).”

🝮 You feel a drop to your stomach.

🝮 James has never called you by your first name.

I really bopped off with this one— whoopsies. 💅 I get the feeling like I should write out their whole story… should I? 👉👈

𝐒𝐚𝐦𝐮𝐞𝐥

🝮 It smells expensive.

🝮 That’s the only way you can describe it… in simpler terms.

🝮 Samuel’s broad, inked shoulders lean against the tub, surrounded by clouds of bubbles. He looks like a mangled fallen angel.

🝮 Dried blood stains his battered body, and yet he smells like expensive shampoo. It’s a suave, clean smelling scent that your mind automatically associates with Samuel Seo.

🝮 You rub down his tightly formed abs, dabbing at the reddened bruises that nestle into the curves of his body. Soap suds follow your strokes; your careful movements lulling Samuel into a deeper sleep.

🝮 His grip on the glass of expensive beer slowly starts loosening as his large, warm hands begin reaching for your hair.

🝮 Samuel is definitely holding back a flood of snarky comments… you can tell he’s itching to complain to you about something.

🝮 But as usual, you swat his hand away and press your fingers to his lips.

🝮 “I don’t wanna hear anything.”

🝮 His brows furrow angrily and you can tell he’s ready to snap at you. You simply rub more bubbles across his chest, and continue cleaning off his injuries.

🝮 “Well it’s not like I was gonna apologize anyway.”

🝮 His expression reverts back to nonchalance, masking the intolerance that brims just below the surface.

🝮 Giving Sammy a bubble bath after he heaved himself into his penthouse, looking like a bloody mess, was not how you wanted to be spending your evening. You didn’t even bother to hide it in your mannerisms.

🝮 But of course, as Samuel rubs thumb across your engagement ring, he’s assured that you won’t hold a grudge for too long

🝮 You always tell him to “let it go” 🙄

🝮 So to contradict yourself would be hypocritical… and Samuel couldn't have that.

🝮 Sudsy bubbles spurt into the air as he drags you into the bathtub.

🝮 It might not fix all your issues… but at least it lessens the tension

🝮 Or that’s what Samuel tells himself—

🝮 If you’re gonna force him to soak in a bubble-infested tub that smells like women’s perfume then he’s gonna force you to go through it with him

Part 2 with Zack, Johan, and whoever y’all want? Ask me ^_^

[poppy-metal]

Camp counselor Nancy is very by-the-book, while you and Robin are a lot more relaxed. Hey, maybe if you break enough rules, counselor Nancy will punish you for being bad

me writing a whole thing.

The water is warm and nice, you think you’re happy to have fucked off and left the kids to nancy. Its nighttime anyway, they’ll all be in bed soon. You just wanted a moment to yourself, without that stuck up priss rolling her eyes at you.

“What’re you doing?” a voice calls, and you groan from where you'd been floating on your back. Nancy wheeler is standing at the edge of the dock, in a a jean skirt and a pink blouse, frowning out at you with her pouty glossed lips. Her stupid little clipboard is still in her hand.

You tread water to her until youre at the edge of the dock, gripping it and peering up at her with a grin, “having fun, wheeler. Heard of it?"

You see a flush rise to her cheeks, her blue eyes narrowing down, “you’re naked.”

Something about embarrassing nancy wheeler thrills you, you use the grip you have on the ledge to pull yourself up a little, so the tops of your breasts break the surface of the water, nipples hardening in the night air. You see her eyebrow twitch. “Excellent observation, nance. Its called skinny dipping.” you suddenly grab her ankle, “you should try it.”

She stiffens, expression bleeding all expression and going cold and impassive, “dont be ridiculous” she snaps, trying to shake your grip off her. “I just came to look for you because you were absent during dinner.”

You feel your heart skip a beat, “awe. Did you miss me that bad?”

She rolls her eyes, “as if. It was your turn to do cleanup. Im assuming this little side quest was purposeful?” she drags her eyes across the lake in a bored manner.

“Ill clean when im done.” you say, “m’not even pruned up yet.”

She finally succeeds in shaking your hand off her ankle, stepping back. Her lips curl, “typical,” she mutters and you frown.

“What?”

She shakes her head, “its just so you to push aside your responsibilities. I dont even know why you’re here, you dont take anything serious. You’re a joke.”

Her words hit their mark. You’d just wanted to have some fun and she’d gone and ruined it. Youd show her a joke. You wrap your hand around her ankle again, small and delicate just like the rest of her, “wanna see something really funny?”

Her eyes flare, “dont. Dont you da-”

Her words are cut off by you pulling her into the water. Her clipboard clatters onto the deck as she fumbles and topples into the lake. You’re already laughing by the time she pops back up, her perfectly styled hair now a wet mess atop her head, though it annoys you that shes still so pretty.

Her glare could melt Antarctica, you think. Or create a second ice age, with how frosty it is.

“You’re such a bitch.”

Your eyes widen, “oh my god. She curses!”

You’re rewarded with a splash of water in your face, she doesnt look amused. Little nancy wheeler is fuming. “What is wrong with you?”

You sober. “Nothing.”

She shakes her head, little flecks of water flying. “No, i mean it. You’ve had it out for me since the moment summer started. I want to know why? What did i do to you?”

You tread water a little bit back from her, looking off to the side, shrugging, “dunno, really. You’re just….”

“Im just.” she grits, “what.”

You fling your arms up, “you're just such a goddamn priss! With that godforsaken clipboard and your rules and commands, s’like you don’t even know what fun is. Wouldnt know it if it sat on your face.”

She looks at you for awhile. Shes unfairly pretty. “Alot of people think that,” she finally says, almost softly. She sighs, “its so fucking annoying.”

You blink. Woah. the second curse of the night.

You blink as she wades closer, closing the distance between you a little, “i like rules.” she says, “they’re there for a reason. To keep the children safe. They arent a joke. And despite what you might think, i know how to have fun. Just because its not with you doesnt give you the right to pass judgment onto me.”

“You? Know how to have fun? Are pigs flying?” you cup a hand over your eyes as you peer up into the starry sky, pretending to look. “Where?”

Nancy is rolling her eyes again, turning back to the deck to haul herself up.

You follow her. The mood had been ruined anyway.

Water drips from her body and her blouse sticks to her body. You can see her nipples poke through the fabric and she frowns, sighing before shes taking the wet shirt off, and then you’re really gawking, as she shimmies out of her jean skirt.

Shes wearing abhorrently girly underwear. Your cunt pulses anyway as she lays the skirt and blouse out on the deck. She glances at you, “where are your clothes?”

You blankly motion in the direction of a pile of your clothes at the bank of the lake. She goes to get them and you gape as she slips into your shirt and steps into your shorts.

“Um.”

She squeezes water out of her hair, “you pulled me into the lake against my will. If you dont want me to report you, you’ll shut up.”

“W-what amd i supposed to wear.”

She points to her still wet clothes, “those. When they dry.”

“Im supposed to stay here until then?!”

She shrugs. “Not my problem”

“Nancy. Come on-”

“No” she takes a step towards you, “im done. Do you understand? This stupid little rivalry you want with me ends here and now. Im not engaging with you. Its stupid and juvenile and beneath me. You’re beneath me. If you try to cross me again, ill make you regret it. You can try to underestimate that, but i promise ill make you. Fucking. Cry. dont test me.”

You dont know why you do it. If you’re being honest, you’ve been turned on since she came up to the dock. Youve had a thing for her for awhile. You wonder what it says about you that this is turning you on so much.

Either way, you’re both surprised when you lean in and kiss her.

You feel her stiffen, feel her hands rise as if to push you away and you close your eyes, prepared to be slapped.

She kisses you back.

Her small hands grip your wet hips and shes backing you up a few steps until your back is pressed against one of the beams on the dock. You gasp against her mouth when shes shoving a leg between your naked thighs, right up against your little pussy.

She pulls back. Her eyes look like they’re on fire. Or on ice.

“So thats why.” she says, almost to herself.

You blink a little dumbly, still stuck on the fact that shes just cornered you and shoved her thigh between your legs. Its still there. “Huh?”

“You’re pulling my pigtails because you have a crush.” she deadpans. She looks decidedly unimpressed. “Thats such a guy thing to do,” her knee dig up, right against your cunt, “is that you? Are you an immature little boy?”

You shake your head dumbly, “no”

“No?” she parrots, grinding the ridge of her knee into you. Your legs are shaking. “No i guess not. That cunt is unmistakable.”

She pulls back a little to look between your bodies, and you gasp when one of her fingers come down to pull back the hood covering your clit, pressing the pad of her thumb on the engorged center of you, “guess you’re more like a misbehaved puppy.”

“Nancy” you whine, hips bucking.”

“Nancy now? Where’s priss? Princess? Stuck up bitch?” with every word she rolls your clit around with her thumb, rocking you back and forth on her denim clad knee. Your denim shes wearing. “Im gonna tell you a secret”

She lets you hump her leg for a bit, the lips of your cunt spread lewdly as you grind down for some kind of friction or relief. Her hand reaches up to wind in your wet hair, yanks your head back so your neck is exposed to her mouth. She nips and sucks at the flesh as you gasp and mewl for her.

She licks the mark she left on your throat, “id know a good time if it sat on my face. Id tongue fuck that good time sooooo nice. Give her my fingers. Let her ride me. Cause this princess has a cock she likes to use. Likes when cute little girls like you spread your little cunt for me to fuck.”

As soon as she was on you, shes off, the pressure on your cunt gone as she backs up.

She smiles primly.

“Too bad you’re on my bad side now. We could’ve had so much fun.” she spins around, waving as she skips away, “see you!’

[brights-place]

Delicate Touch

Pairing: Chifuyu X S/O who doesn’t know how to express their affection

Warnings: Lots of Fluff, Mild cursing

A/N: I’m sorry for being gone lovelies! I’ve been busy at work and school! Also I’ve worked on some more books so I hope you guys check them out if you have spare time! This was so fun to write so I hope you enjoy it!

Chifuyu Matsuno was an affectionate type. He was always eager to show his affection through words, through actions, or through gifts. He’d love to show his love for his partner but he knew that his S/O wasn’t an very affectionate person.

You were more reserved and careful you didn’t show your love a lot but you do show it through Quality time and Words of Affirmations since your love languages where much different. You weren’t vocal or demonstrative with affection but Chifuyu knew you were trying.

This difference in personality caused some tension and confusion between students on why the two where even dating since the two where different but it opened opportunities for deeper understanding of each other and for their love to grow together.

Headcannons

- He's so sweet and patient - Would help out whenever he can when you try to show some affection - On your anniversary when you tried to show some affection chifuyu bit down on his knuckles to stop the grin from exploding on his face - Squeals when you even TRY to show love to him - he adores the subtle touches you give him and enjoys how you plan most of your dates together

- You two were opposites - and he likes that cause he knew that he could find more about you - he enjoyed the fact you and him made brownies once and fell in love again with you when you had laughed - loves you more and more every second he's with you - Enjoys watching you pet peke J - HE NOTICES HOW YOUR TOUCH IS SO DELICATE AND SOFT LIKE HE'S GLASS - He def thought about the romance manga he read - Would get most of his advice from the romance manga to make you open up more which actually worked! - he did try to get advice from baji and the others... failed so much except for Mitsuya, Souya, and Draken who gave him good advice atleast. - when people say that you weren't good enough for him he would explode and bad mouth the person infront of him who shit talked you

- would read them to filth like they would be on the floor like an prune due to how he roasted and insulted them to death

- keeps on crying with joy when you ended up hugging him one time - Literally squealed like an little girl into his pillow later on that night - He does his best to be slow and make you feel safe to show affection towards him - He's patient like I said before and wouldn't waist any second to be by your side and feel your delicate touch <33

[i-dont-know-nor-care-go-away]

Weirdly specific AOS headcannons

Lip balm edition

It's long af btw

Daisy is always losing them but usually just buys drug store chap stick. She likes to see what cool flavors she can get on missions. Jemma gifted her a really nice honey suckle bees wax one, and she keeps it in her room because she doesn't want to lose that one.

May has a single stick of chapstick, peppermint, and is the only one able to use one till the last bit without losing it. No one knows how she does it. It's gone through hell.

Jemma has the really expensive but eco-friendly beeswax kind, and she collects them religiously. She won't tell you how many she has but she know the exact number and has a little organizer and system.

Fitz has about 3 original burts bees scattered around his lab and room. He isn't allowed to touch Jemma' s collection anymore after he got too curious and a bit too drunk and took a bite out of one. Refuses to use Jemma's brand bc it's 'pretentious.'

Bobbi has one of those round eos ones because if it's too small she will lose it. She has one in each bag, and never goes anywhere without it. She despises mint lipbalms bc if she " wanted mint, there is toothpaste in the bathroom." There is a side eye from May when this is brought up. She also likes the Burt's Bees lip tints but she only uses them on special occasions. Somehow she lost her favorite lip balm....

Coulson uses the little tins of lip balm. He likes them because someone told him that's how captain America would have used lipbalm. May thinks it's adorable.

Elena likes to use lipstick but Jemma has convinced her to use the one Jemma picked out for her. She really likes the cinnamon scent. It makes her really happy because someone took the time to figure out what she likes.

Mack used to use either none or original drug store but the air in the shop is so damn dry. He had heard of Jemma's collection and asked for "whatever" because he didn't want to go out of base and buy one. She actually asked Elena about his cologne and what scents he likes. He got a really nice floral one, and he isn't ashamed he likes flowers. The tube looks very small in his hands though. Hunter made a jab at the flowers on the label and mack replied "At least I'm not crusty" Hunter decided to steal one of Bobbi's lip balms bc of this. He is "not crusty" anymore, according to him.

Hunter stole one of Bobbi's eos, and refuses to give it back or even admit it. He really likes the floral scent but he can't figure out which scent it is on his own. He can't ask because he once took the mickey out of Jemma's collection for being a " floral nightmare" in front of everyone. (She called him disheveled and said his skin was wrinkled and shrunken like a prune. She is very into skin care) He is now in too deep, as he discovered how mad Bobbi was that some "idiot must have stole (her) lipbalm, but who even steals a half used lip balm?"

Piper has a bad habit of chewing her lip, and just forgets to use lip balm. May told her to stop it because it was a really obvious tell. Jemma, being herself, gifts her a rapid repair extreme moisturizing one. Piper is extremely grateful. It also tastes bad which helped her break the habit.

Talbot thinks lip balm is for girls and sissies. He stated this when Coulson took out his tin of lip balm. Jemma did not like this. Jemma started on a rant about skin care and health. She took her lip ba to read the ingredients as Talbot called it a chemical scam from big pharma. The verbal sparring ended with Hunter walking in and saying "At least I'm not crusty" Talbot nearly threw the tube at him for that.

Ward uses his own ear wax.

[tummyhurtslol]

first post! hope this reaches some people who are interested:)

about a week ago i drank some prune juice, and it was quite the experience lol. i know prune juice is known to rile up your stomach, so i really wanted to try it hehe

and omg it did, my stomach was a giant bloated gurgling mess for the whole night and even into the morning. i really loved it though, my stomach was really turning me on and i wished someone was there with me😩

now i did cut a lot of clips in here because i know not everyone is into the scat/diarrhea, maybe in the future though if enough people want it i can do it! i also am not showing my tummy for privacy reasons, but i may sell or even trade some! i do have all of the clips from night this with my stomach in them, so if you want these in specific or something different just message me!

————————————————————————

i was at work for 10 hours and didn’t eat anything at all. i was hungry, but i saw the prune juice i’d bought for a special occasion and i thought this was the perfect opportunity to get the full effect. i told myself i would drink half, but i pussied out after about 2 cups bc it was really really gross😭. (maybe it’s a good thing i did bc who knows how it could have gone if i did half lol)

and quite literally only about 30 minutes after drinking i started to feel something going on in my tummy. it just kinda felt like gas building up, not a whole lot of gurgling but definitely pressure.

then at the hour mark is when i knew it was working, my stomach started to gurgle like crazy and it felt like water was rushing through my intestines, it was kinda crazy. my belly was starting to bloat like a balloon, it was getting really big which at the time was surprising to me because the prune juice was the only thing in there lol. it wasn’t really uncomfortable yet, just super active lol

but then as time starts to pass it gets more and more uncomfortable, the bloating was a lot and making my stomach literally HUGE. it started to cramp up a lot, and about another hour later i knew that all that built up gas/diarrhea wanted out. i tried to hold it for a little while, but it was pushing really hard and i could only clench for so long 😭

the first bathroom trip was surprisingly the easiest, once the first round came out i did feel a lot of relief, but i knew it wasn’t over. i went a couple more times and then went to lay back down thinking that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. but about 10 minutes later i was proven very very wrong lol

I was just laying in my bed when literally my entire abdomen cramped up and sent a very deep gurgle that told me i had to go right then. i barely even grabbed my phone in time to record and unfortunately didn’t get any of the gurgles before i went the first time because it was just so urgent and sudden lmaoo, and after that it was more so a lot of diarrhea and not a lot of gurgles so the videos for that trip weren’t the best sorry lol

after that second trip though i thought i might’ve gotten most of the diarrhea out maybe just some gas left, but again was proven very wrong lol. i again was laying down when i got another cramp that felt very urgent, so ran back to the bathroom and my stomach definitely let me have it this time. this one was probably the worst, the cramps were so intense and my stomach just felt like it was getting squeezed until everything came out 😭 i stayed there for a while, because i didn’t wanna have to keep running back and forth. i spent about 45 minutes sitting there and i spent a lot of it just clenched at my stomach because it was quite painful, but i still really enjoyed it 😅 but you could definitely hear some of those cramps in the video, they were crazy lol

then i was finally able to relax for about 45 minutes, until i felt another deep and urgent gurgle. i was surprised i still had anything left in me😅 but this time it was a bit less painful, and i was really really enjoying the gurgles. there was one point during this one where i pushed right on my lower belly and it created a huge gurgle and a push of diarrhea, it felt soooooo good😍 but the diarrhea didn’t last long and it was about 2am at this point so i was really tired, and my stomach stopped hurting enough for me to fall asleep.

i did wake up once around 5am to go to the bathroom again, but since i was woken up by it i didn’t grab my phone sorry:( it was really kinda hot though how i immediately woke up to this giant gurgle from my stomach and i just knew i had to go lol, i wish i had it recorded😅 but then i fell back asleep and woke up in the morning to just a very gassy tummy, but no more diarrhea. i felt the effects all day though, i was super gassy and my stomach definitely still felt a little heavy and bloated. i didn’t feel completely back to normal until the day after that lol, so it definitely sent my stomach for a ride.

overall though, it was such a fun experience and i really wanna do it again. the gurgles from this were like no other and i could feel them throughout my entire abdomen, it was so hot😍 i don’t really mind the pain that much, i especially like it if someone is there to help ease the pain:) but yes, i will probably be doing this again hopefully soon, because i loved this experience and i hope you guys love it too!

[lalovi]

hi do you do regular ships? if so could I pls get a prune juice x yan!kouign? like excessively yan lol she murders everyone who even looks at the guy

if not, could I please get a prune juice x yan!reader? tysm ^^ I hope this request isn't too bad/hard

AN: I'M SO SORRY, I DONT REALLY KNOW HOW TO WRITE REGULAR SHIPS, SO YOU CAN JUST IMAGINE THE READER IS KOUIGN AMANN!! I MADE SURE THEY ACTED SIMILARLY ENOUGH. SHE EVEN HAS A SWORD. TY FOR THE REQUEST!! ♡♡♡

Prune Juice Cookie x Yan! Reader. ONESHOT.

Warnings: Gore, murder, stalking, manipulation, all that Yan jazz

-Precious-

There he was, sitting peacefully on a bench, unbothered. Smart, handsome, and perfect. He's so... wonderful. He is he greatest person to ever grace this planet. I must make sure nobody can taint him. He's my everything. My precious Prune Juice Cookie.

But who is she?

Why is that student talking to him? No, why is she even looking at him? I can't let her taint him. I'll deal with her later. For now, I just want to see him in all of his glory.

That laugh, that smile, those eyes. Why does he feel the need to hide them so much? They are the most beautiful things I've ever seen. Well, besides him. Nothing is more beautiful than him.

He is my everything. He is my heart, my soul, my reason to live. Without him, I have no purpose. I'd die if I knew I had to wake up and he wouldn't be in the same world as me. My heart beats for him and him alone.

Does he not understand this?

Oh look, that poor excuse of a being has left Prune Juice alone. And look at that, she's wandered off all by herself. Doesn't she know how dangerous that is? Oh well. I don't care. It makes my job so much easier.

I would smile as I walked up to her. "Hello!" I'd say cheerfully while waving to her. It was all fake, of course. I'd never want to smile for some brat like her. It just makes things easier when people trust you.

"Me?" She'd ask while pointing to herself.

Oh great, she's stupid as well. Actually, I already knew she was dumb from the moment she started talking to Prune. She's just so much dumber than I imagined. Who else would I be waving at?

"Yes, you. Can you follow me for a second? I need help with something." I would tell her.

"Oh, uh, sure thing.."

That was almost too easy. If she follows a stranger so easily, why hasn't she already been killed? She's begging for death at this point.

"Great." I grabbed her wrist firmly and lead her to an alleyway nearby. The smile I once wore was gone. All that was left was an expression of cold and silent rage.

It did not take long before we reached the end of the alleyway, and I shoved her in front of me ever so slightly.

"We're here." I told her.

"What are we doing here? I thought you said you needed help with something." She started to back away from me while looking around nervously.

Already has cold feet? She sure didn't when she went up to my most beloved.

"I do need help with something." I told her, taking out my blade and giving her a crazed expression.

"W- what are you doing?" She started to back away even more. Of course I expected something like this. It wasn't long before she hit a wall.

"Leave me alone, you freak!" She'd shout while her expression formed into that of fear.

That's the best thing she can come up with to defend herself? I swear, she's such an idiot. My beloved Prune Juice could have come up with so much better. And his expressions would be ten times more entertaining.

"You're so unoriginal. I've heard that insult hundreds of time."

"Why are you doing this? What did I even do?"

"...You're not very smart, are you?"

I would take my sword and raise it above her body, feigning a strike. She would raise her arms above her, as if that were going to do anything.

"You're not even entertaining. So predictable..." I'd click my tongue and sliced through her chest.

Crimson.

Everything was dyed that deep, blood red. My clothes, my sword, the ground. Her. This is what she gets for speaking to Prune Juice. She laid there with her body all limp. Isn't it pretty? How the blood shimmers when the light hits it. How you can see the life leave their eyes. How they react when they're scared. It's not as beautiful as Prune Juice, but still a thrilling experience nonetheless.

I'd start to walk back to my dorm room, evading everyone's view. I've gotten really good at that, since I've killed so many people.

I entered my empty apartment and immediately changed my clothes. Can't have Prune getting suspicious of me now. I would chuck it into the washing machine and switch to a fresh set. After, I would start to clean my sword. It's much easier to clean, being made of less absorbent material.

I'd sit on the couch, just wiping up some of the leftover blood. I managed to get most of it off in the first attempt, but it's always good to do a second just to be safe.

That's when the door opened, and my roommate would enter the room.

"I'm back.." They would say in a sad tone. He sat down on the couch next to me, not suspecting a thing.

"Ah, hello my love. You seem a bit upset. Is something bothering you?"

He's so precious, even while sad.

"I met somebody else today, and they said they would text me back immediately! But I've been waiting for three hours now, and there's still nothing. This always happens. Am I not likeable?" He'd ask while resting this chin in his hands.

Oh, he's upset about that. He usually is.

"Don't worry, dear. If they don't want to make the effort to talk to you, then they're the problem. You really shouldn't be bothered about what those types of people are up to. Just stick to the ones you know are good, like me!"

I leaned my sword on wall next to us and gave him a kiss on the cheek before smiling at him.

"I guess you're right." Prune Juice would say.

I'm always right.

"Now, why don't we cuddle? There's actually a new show we can watch!"

I would hold out my hand, which he took immediately, and lead him to our bedroom. We spent the rest of the day watching shows and cuddling. That's when I heard a washing machine do its little chime, although it was feint. It was the same machine that held my crimson stained clothes.

I'm sure if I told him one day, he'd understand. This is all for him, after all. I love him so, so much. If he loved me as well, then he wouldn't be mad.

[the-badger-mole]

The Other Woman

Katara sometimes thought that her love life was cursed. First there was Jet, whose radical politics clashed with her own compassionate views of the world. They'd broken up after a year and a half when Katara refused to support the extremist candidate he'd begun volunteering for. When the candidate lost, he had blamed Katara and everyone like he who "claimed to want to see real change, but refuse to get your hands dirty!" When Katara pointed out that Jet's candidate wanted to pass laws that would directly take away women's rights, he had snorted in disgust and stormed out of Katara's apartment. A very inauspicious end to what had started as a promising romance.

Next had been Aang, who had been her neighbor growing up, and her friend for most of middle and high school. He'd had a crush on her for years, and after militant bad boy Jet, nice guy Aang seemed like a good idea. It was not. After being let out of the Friend Zone, Aang had ceased to do any of the things that had made Katara want to be his friend in the first place. He was never interested in her thoughts or interests, and he never took her out unless it was to someplace he could show her off. He flirted with other women- right in front of her, on more than one occasion- but got huffy and possessive if she even glanced in another man's direction. The end to that relationship had come when she found Aang in a compromising position with a woman Aang had recently begun referring to as his "new best friend". Aang had done everything to get Katara to forgive him, vowing to cut off the new girl, and to never have any female friends again. He'd even proposed, which only served to make Katara angrier. She threw Aang out of her apartment, chucking the jewelry box out after him.

Zuko was the latest, and until recently Katara had thought greatest of the men she'd ever dated. He was handsome, in spite of a large scar on his face. He was smart and successful, but not arrogant. He kind and compassionate, even if he wasn't necessarily nice all the time. He was considerate of everyone, not just because he wanted something. Like Aang, many of his closest friends were women, but he never gave Katara any reason to be suspicious of them, and in fact, most of them had become Katara's close friends, too (one even started dating her brother, to Katara's delight). They had been together eight months when Katara began to allow herself to imagine a future with him in it. She should've known it was too good to be true.

Ursa was a formidable woman- beautiful, gentile, successful. She had rebuilt her life from essentially scratch after her divorce and losing custody of her children to her much richer ex-husband. So perhaps it was understandable that she was so protective of her son. Unfortunately for Katara, that protectiveness manifested in harsh scrutiny of any woman Zuko brought home. Even more unfortunately, her perfect man was also very much a Mama's Boy.

"She didn't mean it that way," he told Katara the first time Ursa had insulted her education. Zuko had gone to the most prestigious schools in Caldera. Katara had gone to a local school in the Southern Water Tribe.

"You just have to give her a chance to get to know you like I do," Zuko had insisted when Ursa had criticized her career pursuit (her precious son would need to settle down with a more home-minded woman).

"She didn't mean that you're a bad cook," he swore. "Sea prunes are just not everyone's taste. Besides, you know I love your cooking." Katara hadn't even made a lot of sea prunes. They were a side dish to introduce Zuko's family to her culture.

The final straw, however, was the day that she and Zuko had announced their engagement to his family. Katara had mentally prepared herself for Ursa not being thrilled, but she never saw her future mother in law's reaction coming. Rather than the polite, collected, if cold congratulations hiding subtle barbs that Katara had been expecting, Ursa's face had gone white, then red in anger. She managed, at least to wait to pull Zuko aside, but Katara had gone to the bathroom, and overheard on her way back what Ursa really thought.

Zuko was going places. His career was taking off, and he needed someone who would support his ambitions instead of pursuing her own. Who would raise her grandchildren if he married a career woman? He could do so much better. That woman wasn't in his class (never mind that before she had married Zuko's horrible father Ursa had been a struggling actress from the wrong side of the tracks). Zuko barely had time for his mother and sisters as it was, that woman would only pull him farther away. Ursa was getting old, she didn't have much time left and she wanted her son in her life. Oh, never mind, he would abandon her, just like every other man in her life ever had (Ursa was still very much married to her second husband, who was sickening in his devotion to her). The last blow, however wasn't anything that Ursa said. Katara waited in her hiding spot to hear Zuko's defense of her.

"Oh, Mom," he sighed. "Of course I'm not going to abandon you." There was nothing else. Katara suspected they were hugging. Something in her broke in that moment. Suddenly, decades of competing with Zuko's mother flashed before her eyes, and Katara knew she couldn't do it. She quietly made her way out of Ursa's house, and walked away alone.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

[bullet-prooflove]

Executive Decision - Alden Parker x Reader

Tagging: @sarakafarrah @mandy426  @crazy4chickennuggets @kmc1989 @oureternalbond

Alden knows when something going on with you. Sometimes you don’t see each other for a couple of days when a case gets hot. It’s the way of the job. You always check in, the same way he does. When you don’t respond to his texts, he decides to take a trip a few floors down to the Family & Sexual Violence Department where you head up your own team specialising in Adult Sexual Assaults.

The Navy’s version of SVU, he calls it.

The number of sexual assaults has gone up by 6% since the COVID restrictions were eased, 50% percent were perpetrated by colleagues, which means other sailors. Alden finds those stats harrowing. He’s just glad that the victims have you on their side.

It’s a bad one, he can tell because you’re not at your desk. He checks in on the purple orchid he got you for your birthday, rubbing the leaves between his thumb and forefinger. It’ll need pruning soon; he’d promised he’d show you how to do it at the weekend. He’s sure you’ll find it as meditative as he does. A little bit of Zen in your line of work wouldn’t hurt anyone.

He seeks you out, his gaze coming to land on the conference room. He can see you through the blinds, your earbuds in your ears, your hair pulled away from your features. You’re scribbling something onto a notepad.

You don’t look up when he enters, you’re too absorbed in the interview you’re listening to. It isn’t until he puts his hand on your shoulder that you realise he’s there.

“Easy,” He says softly when you jerk at his touch. “It’s just me.”

His thumb ghosts over the nape of your neck, rubbing the tension out of the muscle. You groan under his touch, and he smiles before taking the seat beside you and reviewing the white board. He understands now why you’ve been so pre-occupied.

Six victims, each image progressively more harrowing.

“I guess that explains why you’ve been MIA over the past couple of days.” He says before he turns to face you.

There’s dark circles underneathe your eyes, they look red rimmed and a little raw. His gaze strays to the bin in the corner, filled with empty take out cups piled haphazardly on top of one another.

“When was the last time you slept?” He asks you. “Or had a meal?”

You give him that look, and he already knows the answer. Two days ago, the last time you stayed over at his place. He’s made love to you in the shower that morning before serving you Napolitanas de chocolate from the Spanish bakery on the corner. You’d been in a rush by the time you’d left, a call had come in. You’d taste liked chocolate and powdered sugar when you kissed him goodbye.

“OK I’m making an executive decision and busting you out of here.” He tells you, holding up a finger when you open your mouth to argue. “You’re tired and running on terrible coffee fumes; I’m taking you back to my place where I can cook you something and make sure you get a good night’s sleep.”

You sigh, your gaze straying back to the whiteboard.

“Sweetheart.” He says, clasping your jaw lightly in his hand before he guides your attention back to him. “You’re no good to anyone if you’re exhausted. Isn’t that what you’re always telling me?”

“I know you’re right.” You tell him, looking into his eyes. He can see the fatigue in them, the weight that the burden of this case has set upon your shoulders.

“It’s hard. I know how tough it is.” He tells you, his thumb ghosting along your jawline. “You feel like if you take a break you’re letting them down somehow, but you’re not. You’re going to rest so that you can come back tomorrow and give them your best.”

He leans in close, his forehead coming to rest upon yours. He hates seeing you run yourself down like this, he knows how a case can get under your skin, how it can prickle at your nerves like a barb, make you a little unhinged. He’s been there and he doesn’t want that for you.

 “Let me take care of you tonight.” He requests his lips brushing over yours. “Let me look after you, the way you look after me.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[genmaichafan]

FREN! IT’S BEEN A WHILE SINCE WE’VE TALKED!

WHAT IF: Some rando has been trying to flirt with the reader. He seems to be ignoring how uncomfortable the reader is. This makes Donna incredibly jealous, as she doesn’t take kindly to creeps trying to steal away her girlfriend. As such, she TERRIFIES the creep and sweeps her gf home (lots of kisses and fluff ensue).

TY SM

Hello hello friend i have written it sorry i dont think its my best work and i kinda ignored the second half of the prompt because i uhh got lost in the sauce of an idea.

Anyways enjoy.

Donna x f!reader. modern au. sfw.

You had been at the coffee bar for a while now, Donna had just gone out to grab something quickly at the time being.

You loved this coffee shop.

the barista was friendly and always knew your favourite order. The seat you always wanted in the corner was often empty. And most of all it was quiet.

Something both Donna and you appreciated.

But today of all days there was a promotion going on for old brew that seemed to draw in people like crazy.

it was packed.

and worst of all there was this guy here. That seemed to be eying you up and down with a smirk, something in his eyes said he thought you were easy prey.

”donna please come back so we can leave” you whispered under your breath.

”talking to you self pretty lady?”

oh god he actually approached you.

”yeah i like talking to myself and the voices!” You tried to make him think you were mentally unwell so he would leave you alone.

”whoa. Spicy. I like that.”

you internally face palmed. This frat boy was not going to leave you any times soon.

“Yes I actually am waiting for my partner-“

”oh yeah? You guys open or something?”

you hadn’t noticed but donna had been back from whatever errand she had been doing and had heard the very last thing the creepy man said. She was seething beyond repair.

”no we aren’t open.”

”oh you're her partner?”

he eyed her up and down like he did you earlier.

Donna’s response to this was to start speaking tongues of obscure italian. literally cursing the man. Donna was not a witch but she was trying to cast imaginary spells.

to further sell her game she took out her large and intimidating garden pruning sheers and cut off a lock of his hair really quickly. Not before clutching and blowing the lock into his face further selling the gambit.

The gullible man's face was turning more and more pale and when the final move was cast his hands were shaking.

”w-witchcraft!!” He did not think twice about running away.

donna quickly walked up to you. Dropping the facade. Quickly taking up your hands into hers.

”are you okay mi amore?!”

”yes, thanks to you.” You smile was half amusement still remembering the display, and half adoration.

”im glad.” she brought her lips to your quickly, hoping to wipe the remainder of the man’s presence on your mind away.

”what were you going to get?”

”thats a secret. For now.”

”no fair you know i dont like secrets.”

”i know i know but im hoping youll be happy to see it.”

_____

“Are you sure we should go to our secret spot? It’s going to be super dark this time of night.”

”I promise it won't be that bad mi amore.”

Had it been anyone else you would have not believed them. You were heading to a secret alcove in the nearby park that Donna and your friends liked to hang out at but it didn't have much of a way of being illuminated in the dark, but you knew better.

”ok i trust you.”

Donna's response to this was to take your hand and begin racing towards the park pulling you along with her.

you two laughed along the whole way as if playing like children.

_____

When you arrived you didn't want to say it but youre were kinda right.

it was almost pitch black in the hide away and you couldn’t really see anything. Luckily; you could make out certain shapes enough to not fall or trip on anything. Not to mention you suddenly had no idea where Donna was.

”Donna?”

”right here mi amore” she was right behind you.

“What are we doing here today my love?”

”oh you'll see.”

Just like that the lights that had never been here before turned on. The alcove was beautifully decorated to yours and donnas personal tastes almost as if there was going to be a celebration of shorts set up with fairy lights set up with an extra table with Champaign.

before you could even ask what was going on, Donna got down on one knee.

your breath hitched.

”[y/n], will you marry me?”

Somehow you had managed to bring yourself to affirm that you would in-fact love to marry Donna through the shock.

“Yes! I would love to marry you!”

You two quickly brought each other's lips halfway to meet in the middle in union. savoring the moment between you two and the deep connection you shared. Donna smiled so widely when you finally parted that she had to cover her face a bit. A bad habit that she had not managed to nip that you found extremely cute.

”I love you donna.”

”and I love you more than you could ever know.”

[brokenjere]

bad in the bones (c.f) (part 8)

a/n: hey guys! hope you enjoy this next part! I wanna let everyone know that I really only planned this series to be around 10 chapters, so I can’t say how many more parts are left but with that being said, I have some other things up my sleeve to keep everyone busy until season two comes out 🫣🫣🫣 lmk if you wanna be added to the tag list!

A lot of dads showed up - John, the man who had been like a father to me for most of my life up until last year when his marriage to Laurel ended more cordigally than I would have anticipated. Laurel still invited him up for the Fourth despite the fact his new girlfriend was on his arm and she couldn’t have been much older than me. She smiles and pretends it’s not crushing her soul, but I think maybe it was. At least just a little bit. 

Adam showed up, too. After Susannah told everyone he wasn’t coming, Conrad seemed to be in high spirits. He was still canoolding with Nicole in the pool and helped me, Belly, and Jeremiah make pomegranate margaritas in their dad’s special blender but his smile was brighter than I had seen it all morning. When he still thought his dad wasn’t coming. Adam still strolled in, though like everyone was happy to see him. Jeremiah was the only one who smiled. 

The only dad that didn’t show up was mine. Not that he was invited but I couldn’t help but think about where he was. Where my mom was. Who she was spending the holiday with. I doubt she had a homemade cake and margaritas and there probably weren’t red, white, and blue decorations surrounding her. There might be a pool. Maybe she was laying out by it and being served by someone in a fancy hotel that her new boyfriend was paying for. I didn’t really know. That’s where she was last year, anyway. 

I liked her being gone, then. All my friends and I got too drunk in the backyard because there were no adults to stop us. Josh waded in the pool near the edge where I sat. His hands gripped my calves and he kissed my thighs and he mumbled how much he loved me in between kisses. Everyone was envious of us. It was obvious in the way they watched us. Josh never cared much for PDA except when he was drinking. 

Last year, after spending so much time in the pool that he became a prune, he leaned over my tanning body and dripped water all over me while kissing my cheeks. He begged me to go upstairs with him and after telling him no too many times, he lifted me up bridal style and carried me up to my room while piles of water marked our path. 

This year, I’m alone with a bottle of vodka resting on my stomach. I balance the neck between my two fingers and it rises and falls with my breathing. Everyone is down at the beach with the pitcher of the pomegranate margaritas that we made. Belly begged me to come, holding my hands in hers as she pleaded with me. I told her I wasn’t feeling well and she hesitated, but left me anyway. 

The sun is shining through the window and I’m trying to keep my eyes closed to drown out the brightness but a shadow looms over my eyes. I opened one eye and suint at the figure hanging over me. It’s Conrad. “There you are,” he says with a laugh. His hair flops over his eyes and he’s smiling so wide I think he might swallow me whole. “I’ve been looking for you. Belly is getting totally wasted, you should see her.” I don’t laugh but I manage to muster a smile. “What’s wrong?” He asks me, his smile fading. I don’t want it to fade, I want it there plsatered between his cheeks forever. 

“Nothing.” He shakes his head as if he doesn’t believe me and grabs the bottle from me. He takes a sip and jumps over the couch. I move my legs so he doesn’t land on them and he pulls them back into his lap. “What are you doing up here?” 

“It was all getting too much. Everyone is out of hand,” he tells me. He watches the alcohol swirl around in the glass bottle and he’s not looking at me but his thumb is rubbing my calf as it pushes into his thigh and then he asks me if I’m watching the fireworks tonight. “Jeremiah got some good ones to impress Dad, but I don’t even know if he’s staying.” Their dad coming was a shock to everyone, I think. Susannah told everyone this morning he wasn’t going to come but he showed up later with a six-pack of beer and Conrad’s mood visibly shifted. I didn’t ask, though. 

“Why do you say that?” I ask carefully. His breath is shaky and my question wavers on thin ice. He sighs and squeezes my ankle. 

“He and my mom got into it earlier. I don’t think he really had to work, I think Mom didn’t want him here,” he tells me. I tap my foot on the bottle in his hands and he looks at me. His eyes make my heart break. “I didn’t really want him here, either.” 

“What about Jeremiah?” 

“He was ecstatic. Bought a whole show of fireworks.” I smile at the thought but Conrad doesn’t. “So, are you coming?” 

“I don’t think so.” He nods and taps his fingers on my legs. “Unless you want me to?” 

“There’s a moon eclipse tonight,” he says. 

“It’s called a syzygy,” I say. “When the moon, sun, and Earth align. It comes from the Greek word syzgia which means ‘yoked together’.” He smiles at me and I can feel my cheeks heat up. “I was in science club for a while,” I admit. Conrad laughs. A real laugh with his head thrown back and his face turning red and it’s contagious. 

“Yoked together, huh?” He asks and I nod. “Well, yn, do you want to go see the sun, moon, and Earth be yoked together with me later?” 

“What about Nicole?” I hate myself for asking but I have to know so I ask anyway. 

“She doesn’t mean anything to me but I can’t wait around for you forever.” He looks at me and I know he doesn’t want to not wait for me. We look at each other and I know I should say something and tell him he doesn’t have to wait for me because I’m right here but there’s too much at stake and instead of saying what I want to say, I reach for the bottle of vodka and drink it until it’s gone and the room erupts in noise. Susannah calls for cake and Belly is at her heels like a toddler feening for sugar. “We should go out there,” he mumbles, lifting my legs off his lap and standing up. My legs slam down on the couch and I feel horrible. 

I have no choice but to follow him for cake except there won’t be any cake because as I step out onto the patio, Belly skips down the stairs and trips over her own feet and knocks into Susannah and the cake goes everywhere. 

Everyone rushes to Susannah's side but I’m glued in place. Mr. Fisher grabs at his wife and she pushes him off - “don’t touch me,” she yells. Everyone draws back. I can see Conrad’s shoulder tense in front of me. “I’m fine, I’m fine.” She stands up, smooths down her dress, and walks passed everyone and into the house ignoring Belly’s slew of apologies. 

“So I guess no cake,” Conrad mumbles. I think I’m the only one who heard him. John brings Belly inside. She’s stumbling over her feet and slurring her words and John mouths I’m sorry to me. 

I don’t think Belly has ever gotten drunk before. In fact, she was always the one tellng everyone to slow down. She’d answer her phone on the first ring everytime I called and walked wherever I was. It wasn’t that big of a town and I never went very far, but one time she even had to take a bus to the party I was at. She waited for me and walked me home and made sure I didn’t stumble into the street. She provided water and Advil adn stayed with me when my mom wasn’t home. Belly was always stable. Sure. Secure. The sun that broke through my dark clouds.

It’s no surprise to me that no one is mad at her for ruining the cake. Even Susannah, who now has to buy a new cake stand, smiled and said everything was okay. No one could be mad at her even when she was a drunken mess. 

She’s in her bed, a half-eaten piece of pizza on her end table and she’s fast asleep. I almost want to wake her up. Tell her that everything is okay because Susannah said so and I know she would believe me. I want to tell her that she doesn’t have to change who she is because her friends at the country club want her to. She is not fasinators and white gloves and too much blush on her cheeks. She is not a drunken mess with sand in her shoes. She is more than that. 

There’s a soft knock on the door and I turn to see Conrad leaning against the door jam. He’s watching her, too. He doesn’t look at me until I speak. “Wanna go see the eclipse?” He smiles and holds out his hand for me and I take it. I check behind me one more time to make sure she’s asleep before disappearing down the hall with Conrad. Guilt rushing up my throat and I swallow it down. 

He takes me back to the pier as the sun goes down. We pass the big white boat and instead of taking me sailing, he takes me to Shark Bait. “You’re gonna take this thing out?” I ask, eyeing the ores  suspiciously. Conrad laughs and he helps me aboard. There’s already blankets in the boat and he opens one up to wrap it around my body. His hands linger on my arms and I swallow the guilt again. 

“You’re gonna help me row, okay?” 

“You don’t always have to teach me something, you know,” I whisper to him. I liked when he taught me stuff, though. I like when he’s passionate and excited and I like when he smiles with his eyes like he’s doing right now. 

“To impress a girl that already knows everything, I think I do.”

“You’d be surprised at how little I really know.” Conrad licks his lips and his eyes soften and instead of kissing him like I want to do, I pull away and grab at an ore. “So, how do we do this?” He clears his throat and talks me through the steps and we row the boat out as far as he lets me. I think I could have kept going forever until we hit another piece of land where no one knows us and no one is in love with him and I can kiss him if I want to. 

It starts to get really dark, especially out in the water where there are no lights besides the pier a million miles away. Conrad points to the stars and asks me what the constellations are and I tell him and then he gawks at me as if he’s never been more amazed in his life. He tells me, “I never know what’s going to come out of your mouth.” 

And I want to say, “I love you.” But I don’t. I don’t say it and I don’t know if I love him but right now, in the dark, when I can’t really see his face clearly and his arm feels more real next to mine than it has ever felt before, I might. 

We sit on the floor of the boat and lean back against the seat. Conrad’s hand finds my leg and he rests it on my thigh. His fingers rub against my skin. It’s sweet and respectful and I don’t make him stop because right now it’s just me, him, and the planets being yoked together. I turn my head to say something and Conrad turns his at the same time and the only reason I know he’s so close to me is because I can feel his breath on my lips. The tip of his nose is touching mine and when I can’t see him, it’s easier to press my lips to his and not feel guilty. 

His hand finds my face in the dark and he cups my cheek. I lose myself in him. His lips, his scent, the way his hair brushes against my forehead when he presses his body closer to mine. This kiss is different. I’m not kissing him because I want to forget. I’m not kissing him because he’s here and convenient. I’m kissing him because I want to and the way that I’m feeling inside needs a way to escape and the only way they can be let out is this. 

I find myself on top of him. My hands are in his hair. His hands are on my waist. He pulls away briefly and between his heavy breath he says, “are you sure?” I’m not sure what he means by that, at least not right away. I wouldn’t be doing this if I wasn’t sure but I put myself in his shoes for a moment and maybe he doesn’t know that. I nod. “I don’t want you to be sure now and then regret it in the morning.” 

“I don’t regret anything,” I say. “I don’t regret anything when it’s with you.” I mean it. I try to force him to believe me so I kiss him again and he leans into me and I know he does. 

“Then what’s been the issue?” He whispers. His thumb rubs against my cheek and I lean my face into him. “You know I can’t get you out of my mind.” 

“Belly,” I tell him. “She loves you and she’s my best friend.” He stiffens and maybe now he gets it. Why I said I can’t be with him. My heart races and I have to tell myself he’s not going to get up. He’s not going to leave. He’s not going to make me feel like I made a mistake. I repeat these three things in my head until he eventually speaks. 

“That’s why you asked me that the first night on the beach? About her?” I nod my head and he kisses my forehead and I like us like this. “Okay,” he says. I don’t know what he means by that but I don’t care because he kisses me again and I kiss him back and he roll around on the bottom of the boat and we’re wrapped up in the blanket and each other. He strokes my head and tells me stories until I fall asleep on his chest. I don’t wake up until the sun does. 

We row back to the pier and we don’t talk about last night. Not really, anyway. He smirks when he looks at me and keeps eye contact for too long but I don’t blame him because if I could, I’d capture the way he looks right now and keep it in my back pocket forever. “Are you ready to go home?” He’s leaning against the passenger side door of the car with a hesitant smile on his face.

“No, but yes.” He pushes himself off the car and kisses me. He lingers on my lips like he doesn’t want the moment to end and then he opens my door for me and drives us home. He holds my hand the whole way until we pull into the driveway. Seeing the house puts a pit in my stomach and he asks me if he can kiss me one more time before we go back to the real world and with the entire family still asleep. I say yes. 

The house feels heavier now that my head is so full of secrets and I knock on Belly’s door instinctively. She opens the door with a smile on her face. It looks misplaced because she’s not supposed to be happy, she’s supposed to be hungover, and seeing her happier than I feel inside makes me feel jealous and that makes me feel selfish. “What’s wrong?” She asks. The expression on my face was probably clear: guilt and fear, but not regret. Never regret.  I start to cry. I feel the tears drip down my cheeks and I try to wipe them away but Belly grabs my wrists and pulls me inside the room before I can and I sob. I collapse into her arms and I cry all over her pajama shirt and she doesn’t say anything. I can barely hear myself speaking but I know what I’m saying. Everything is wrong. Everything is wrong. Everything is wrong.

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