#or. otherwise knows as being dumb teenagers

[lovebugism]

Ok but what about Eddie dating a reader who snores and the gang is like wtf but he finds it cute.

ty for requesting anon! this is dedicated to everyone who gets sleepy at 5pm like i do hahah — eddie's girlfriend falls asleep during movie night and it's a big deal in the sweetest way (sleepy gf!reader, established relationship, 1.4k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

A masked serial killer slaughters a group of pretty teenage girls. Their screams are high-pitched and painfully artificial. The murderer’s chainsaw is way too loud and far too dramatic a weapon. The bright red blood splatters across the baby pink bedroom in several obnoxiously vivid splotches. 

Eddie Munson has never been more grateful to be alive in the golden age of slasher films — the absolute peak of godawful cinema.

He turns to the pretty little thing dozing on his shoulder and grins quietly to himself. 

You’re the purest essence of beauty in all forms, but especially compared to the barbaric horror flashing across the television screen across the room. In the darkness, the neon glow paints you in varying shades of blue, green, and dark red. 

You’re so pretty it hurts.

Eddie didn’t think he could love anything more than dumb slasher movies. Not until he met you, anyway.

“Tired?” he whispers to you when your lashes flutter across the apples of your cheeks.

It’s hardly seven o’clock — the sun has just barely set over the horizon — and more than anything, the tiny trailer is filled with fake screams and faker blood. Most people would be too horrified to be so drowsy. Not you, though.

Everyone’s always admired your relationship with sleep, but maybe just a little extra now.

Your features are blurry with the longing of slumber. They scrunch in refusal when you shake your head, cheek rubbing against the soft cotton of Eddie’s thrifted tee. “No,” you hum with a softness that says otherwise. “‘M just cozy…”

Everyone knows what that’s code for.

All the gang was over for movie night — some more begrudgingly than others (Steve, namely). The brunette boy shares a side eye with Robin on the other side of the couch before both of them turn to look at you. 

Lucas sits on the floor and stuffs his face with popcorn, which he almost chokes on when he laughs. Max giggles at the boy in response from where she’s sandwiched between him and Dustin.

Each of them can practically count down the seconds until you’re fully asleep.

You inhale once — deeply, sharply. The curly-haired boy turns his wrist to check his watch. 

“7 p.m…” Dustin observes with raised brows. He nods to himself like he’s impressed. “That’s gotta be some kinda record, right?”

“I’m pretty sure she was out by six when we were at Steve’s yesterday,” Robin tells him as she leans over Lucas’ shoulder for the popcorn bowl he’s holding hostage.

“Full on snoring by six-thirty,” Steve concurs through a mouthful of candy. “And her legs were on my lap, too, so I couldn’t move for, like, two hours.”

“What about last movie night?” Max questions with pinched brows. “I’m pretty sure she was asleep before it even started.”

Lucas shakes his head. “She was just napping, right? I’m pretty sure she woke up, like, halfway through.”

Dustin nods — the official connoisseur of you and all your sleepiness. You had been asleep by the time Steve turned The Outsiders on, but your internalized love for Dallas Winston had woken you part of the way through. 

“It had to be scrubbed from the records,” the boy explains like it’s something a whole lot more official than you just being tired. “It only counts if she stays asleep.”

“What if her eyes are closed, and she’s using your arm as a pillow, and you don’t have any feeling left in your fingers?” Robin questions with narrowed eyes, recounting the events from the last movie night in question. “What about that?”

“Still doesn’t count,” Dustin shakes his head with a feigned sympathy.

Eddie listens to them with a distant smile on his face. They’re not making fun of you exactly, just noticing all your little idiosyncrasies that he loves so much. It’s what makes you you — the quiet, sleepy girl that’s all but the glue of the group. 

If you’re somewhere else when everyone’s all hanging out together, and not snoozing on someone’s shoulder, something just doesn’t feel right.

“Isn’t she the fuckin’ cutest?” the boy muses amidst the light-hearted banter, the horror movie long forgotten. 

His bright smile and twinkling eyes are met with a group of deadpanned stares. 

It isn’t because you aren’t cute, because you are. Why else would Robin and Steve let you use them as pillows even after their appendages have long gone numb? You’re like a cat sleeping on their stomach — it’s too much of an honor to wake you. 

Their dumbfounded gapes are more so a result of Eddie’s adoration for you. Because you’re you, and Eddie’s… Eddie. 

You’re polar opposites. 

You’re quiet and sweet and gentle, and Eddie’s never been any of those things once in his life. 

You’ve brought out a softer side of him — one that none of them thought a brash metalhead like him could ever have. He talks to you far sweeter and far more gently than he’d ever speak to the rest of them. Mostly because he knows you get spooked too easily and that you always wince whenever people yell. And his PDA is an innocent kind, full of held hands and forehead kisses and boops to the tip of your nose. 

Eddie Munson is so soft for you that he lets you drool on his shoulder and unknowingly steal all the covers from him when you fall asleep during movie night. 

He’s so far gone for you that he’ll let you drag him to bed when most people his age are heading out to party for the night — just so you can drool on him and take all the covers from him in his bedroom, where you can sleep more comfortably than on the couch.

It’s all so sweet, it’s downright disgusting.

“It’s gross how in love the two of you are,” Steve monotones, the only one brave enough to say it out loud even though they’re all thinking it.

“I know,” Eddie affirms with a wide grin. “It’s amazing, huh?”

They all grumble under their breaths about it, obviously not as mushy with adoration as he is. 

It isn’t his fault they’re miserable because they don’t have their own soulmate who gets tired at 5 p.m. and snoozes on their shoulder accordingly. They’d be a lot less crabby if they had someone like you to gush about. 

Not you, though. ‘Cause you’re his and everything. But someone just like you, maybe.

Everyone dissipates when the credits of the movie start to roll — either to get more food, or use the bathroom, or stretch their aching limbs. 

Eddie stays unmoving. He doesn’t want to wake you up.

You begin to rouse on his shoulder, shifting as you wake with a deep inhale-exhale. Your eyes flutter slowly open, and through the haze of sleep, you notice the empty living room and the scrolling names on the television screen.

“’S the movie over?” you question, slurred with the heaviness of slumber.

Eddie nods lazily against the couch. 

He’s about as tired as you are now, with his legs cocked up on the coffee table and his head lolled back against the cushions. “Yeah. It’s okay, though. You didn’t really miss anything,” he assures with a crooked smile.

“Didn’t mean to fall asleep…” you murmur, like you’re embarrassed to have slept so soundly.

“I know,” the boy hums softly to you. “’S okay…”

Your temple rests against his shoulder once more. “Wake me up before you start the next movie?” you ask when Eddie presses a lingering kiss to your hair. Your eyes are already fluttered shut again.

“Sure,” he answers, despite lacking any real intention to wake you. 

He’d much rather let you sleep. He knows you need it. He doesn’t mind that you get tired before the sun has set, even though he knows how much you hate it. He couldn’t love it more, personally.

So, he lets you fall back asleep on his shoulder and tries to ignore how much it makes his heart swell. His ribcage shakes with the intensity of how much he loves you — how privileged he feels that you trust him enough to drool on his shoulder and not be embarrassed about any of it. You know he loves you too much for any of that.

“She still asleep?” Steve questions when the gang settles back in the living room. He rattles M&Ms in his palms before chucking a handful into his mouth. When Eddie nods, the boy snorts. “I’m glad it’s your arm falling asleep this time and not mine.”

Eddie’s glad for it, too.

[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

30th - Carlos Sainz

<word count - 3298>

Carlos woke up, slightly groggy with his body still feeling heavy with sleep. As he usually did, his arms instinctively reached over to the other side of the bed, his hands feeling around for you. But, he was met with an empty space and cold sheets.

"Darling?" he softly said, hoping you had just disappeared into the bathroom. However the cold sheets said otherwise. You hadn't been there for a while, and you normally always told him when you were leaving or if he should be expecting your absence.

He slung his legs over the side of the bed, rubbing his eyes to try and wake himself up a bit. His now open eyes landed on your vanity table, a brown box now sat in the place of your makeup bag. His curiosity was piqued, so he walked up and looked at the box.

Lo and behold, his name was perfectly scrawled on the lid. He looked around the room, trying to see if you were hidden anywhere. Sighing and opening the box, he spotted a printed photo. It was an old one from his 17th birthday, coincidentally the first one you had spent together.

He had been at a race, and you had gone to the track to surprise your first ever boyfriend. Carlos had been surprised to see you there, since he didn't think you'd be interested in going to his races - especially back then.

Yet your interest made his silly high school crush turn into something a lot more, something that he didn't quite know what it was back when he was young. He was an emotionally confused, hormonal teenage boy who had the girl he had only seen in his dreams right in front of him.

Picking up the photo, he remembered the exact moment it was taken. He had brought his trophy to you, to show you an accolade of his success. His mum was watching on, smiling at the happiness on her son's face. You had your arm around his shoulder, he had his arm around your waist as you both flashed a big cheesy grin at the camera.

There was another photo underneath, and this one caused a light flush to coat his cheeks. His mum nearly missed it, and that made it even better. As she was walking away, Carlos remembered how he couldn't resist and had tugged you in for a short but sweet kiss.

It was your first kiss, his first kiss, and your first of many together. There was a small label over the top of the trophy, which was still clutched in his hand. 'Find me', it said. Now he saw where this was going.

A little birthday scavenger hunt that was combined with a walk down memory lane. He took himself through the house and all the way to the living room, where his trophy was proudly sitting on the mantelpiece.

Yes, he had won many more since that one, but that one had special significance to him and it always would. Just as expected, there was another brown box that was identical to the last one. He lifted the cardboard lid, another photo waiting for him inside.

This was from two years later, a year before he had joined F1. He was a superstar as ever, and it was dawning on him that he would have to be away from you a lot more. You'd be going to university, and he'd be travelling the globe.

Both you and Carlos knew that this was what he had to do, but it didn't make it any easier. The photo in question was from his last race in the junior formulas. Another win for Carlos Sainz, and one of the last he'd celebrate with you for the time being.

You were holding his trophy, the same dazzling smile on your face as he kissed you on the cheek with people celebrating around you. He ran his fingers over the small version of your face.

To him, you hadn't aged a day. You were still as stunning now as you were back then, which was nearing on 15 years ago at this point. The pair of you were young, slightly dumb, and very much in love. The delusion, which was brought down to innocent naivety, that you'd be able to do such long distance was conceived as something easy by the both of you.

You'd soon find out that that wasn't the case, but it wasn't something he was wanting to dwell on too much. This time, on the base of the box, there was another short note written on it. '15.3.15' was the message.

That was the date of his first ever F1 race, but he couldn't think of anything associated with it. All he really cared about was that he got his first ever points, but you couldn't be there to see it. You were at university, and he remembered your relentless effort to make your schedule align for the first race.

Alas, you couldn't make your way to Australia, and he had to settle for a very happy phone call that you had gotten up extra early to make. You had watched the race, and he knew how excited you were for him to get those 2 points.

Yes, 4 people had DNFed and 2 people had DNSed, meaning he finished three places from the back of the pack, but it didn't matter. Carlos had gotten his first ever F1 points, and you couldn't have been prouder of him.

Little did the both of you know, that was the last time of pure happiness that he had seen before he had ruined it all, but he hoped you had glossed over that and moved straight onto the next part of the joyful times with your scavenger hunt.

He was wracking his brains for anything that he could find associated with the date in the house, but he was drawing blanks. He didn't have any physical momentos of the day, well none that came to mind.

There weren't any pictures in the house of him on that day either. While he was still thinking, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Carlos smirked to himself as he saw your name pop up on his screen, and he opened the text from you. 'Stumped already?'

He chuckled, wondering how you had figured out that he was already stuck on your little treasure hunt. 'Maybe just a little' he replied, watching as you began to type back to him. The three dots bobbled up and down on his screen, before a message appeared on the screen.

'What was in the news that day?' and that was when it hit him. In Madrid, the local news was all about their hometown hero, Carlos Sainz, getting his first points in Formula 1. He remembered you sending him a picture of the paper you had picked up, and you had kept it over all of those years.

He knew it was in a drawer somewhere, he just needed to figure out where. Walking to the office, he rummaged through your desk drawers, hoping he wouldn't stumble upon another clue. Then, he felt another buzz. 'Carlos you are ruining my treasure trail, get out of my desk.'

There was his confirmation. Again, he was wondering how you were omniscient and how you had known where he was in the house. But, he closed the desk drawers as instructed and he internally thanked whoever was out there that he hadn't found whatever was in there. It was simply a little help for later.

'Check the cabinet in the living room,' another text buzzed through. If he kept on acting clueless, then you would do all the work for him at this rate. But, he persevered and headed to the living room cabinet. Just as expected, it was at the top of one of the drawers.

Carefully pulling the thin piece of newspaper out of the drawer, his eyes were drawn to the next note of his trail. 'I was going to do 55 clues, but I thought that would be such an awful idea and would take way too long, so you get 5 instead. For clue number three, I want you to remember the first time we saw each other after our little... sabbatical'.

As he figured, you had glossed over your little 2 year break that had been the loneliest 2 years of his life. He knew exactly what you were referring to this time, and he took himself upstairs to the prized framed photo of the two of you that sat proudly on his bedside table.

He didn't see the note on the offset, but he found it taped to the back of the frame. You probably realised that he would spot it if you put it on the front, so you had to be a little sneaky. He allowed himself some time to look at the photo, even though he saw it multiple times a day.

Carlos could practically feel the humid Singapore air clinging to his skin as he looked at the photo, yet another that his mum had taken. He had gotten his best ever result in F1, a 4th place. Yet, he didn't know you were there. His parents had brought you along, since you had some time off.

He was overjoyed, and he could've sworn his heart had stopped when he got back to the garage after interviews and saw you there, with his family. He stopped in his tracks, before his dad saw him and so did you.

At that point, Carlos' instincts took over, and you both knew what was going on. He started taking steps towards you, and you did the same. There was no hesitation as he wrapped his arms around you and kissed you with every ounce of love he had in his body.

It didn't matter that you'd had practically zero contact over the past 2 years, you still knew each other like the back of your hand. You were still the girl who teenage him had fallen madly in love with, and he was still the charming racer that you had become so enamoured with. After that day, you knew you were together for the long haul, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

As they had preempted the moment, another picture was taken of the perfect sight of the two of you reuniting. When his mum had sent it to him, he had instantly gotten it printed and framed. He took it wherever he went without you, and he always would.

The note taped to the back said 'Grease is the word'. Now, he knew what you were talking about, but he didn't know if the tickets to said show were in your desk drawer or not. 'Is this the desk drawer?' he texted you.

'Sure is,' you replied, and he went back to the office and back to your desk. He looked in the drawer that he hadn't checked in earlier, and there they were. The Grease Tickets He remembered the day you had said you had a 'surprise' for him, only to take him to a theatre to see Grease live on stage.

If it wasn't for the puppy eyes you had given him, then he would've walked straight out of the theatre without a second glance. He had gone in just because you asked, and he unfortunately couldn't say he had hated it. Well, he had pretty much been watching you the whole time as you mouthed the lyrics and smiled at your favourite scenes. He couldn't help but find it utterly adorable.

He could see you in the poofy dresses, the sun shining on you as you sang to your heart's desire. He definitely wouldn't want to be one of the T-Birds, but he would be if you really wanted him to. Plus, he definitely wouldn't be opposed to seeing you in those tight leather pants.

When you asked what he had thought, he just said he had enjoyed it. Oh, what a mistake he had just made. Then you made him watch the movie version at home, and he got to see you mouth the lyrics and smile along again. He enjoyed the movie version more.

One thing he loved about you was how you kept little mementos like these tickets. You liked to preserve memories in the form of little tokens and trinkets. Whether it be tickets from a movie, a pebble from the beach or a receipt from a restaurant, you always kept the little things from special outings and events.

On the back of the tickets, the final note was written on a sticky note. 'You've made it! I'm surprised you haven't gotten bored and nagged me to just tell you where I am, or you have, I'm not sure. Anyway, for your final clue, I am going to send you out to a place that you have at home, and on track.'

Well that was too easy. Carlos closed the drawer and walked out to the garage, but he saw nothing. He felt confused, unsure of if his confidence in his clue-guessing skills was warranted in this situation. 

He stood there for a few more seconds, until he heard the door to the garage close behind him. Turning around, he was greeted with nothing. Just the closed door. However, it wasn't just the door. On the door, there was another note taped to it. 

"Where have you always wanted to go?' and he instantly knew what you were talking about. But, surely you hadn't, right? At the bottom of the piece of paper, he saw a small 'P.S' scribbled on. 'I need you to say it out loud so I can hear it'.

"Hawaii," he said, pretty loud. He also hoped that he had gotten it right, since there were many places he wanted to go that his racing schedule hadn't taken him to. Besides, he couldn't do many tourist-y things when he was traveling most of the time. 

"Ding ding ding!" you laughed, jumping out from behind one of the cars in the garage. Carlos just stood there in complete shock, unsure of what to do with himself. You had a Hawaiian shirt on, complete with a hula skirt and flower garlands around your wrists and neck.

All he could do was laugh, "What the hell are you wearing?" he managed to choke out between the fits of laughter he was letting out. He felt bad, since the look on your face told him that you thought he should've been taking this a little more seriously. "Hey, darling, I'm sorry, you look adorable," he doubled back, closing the gap between you and putting his hands on your waist. 

"But I do want to know what this is all about," he pressed.

"Well, the treasure hunt was just a little bit of fun that I wanted to do for some good memories on a special day. This stunning outfit it for... something else." you smiled, moving away from him and back to the spot you were hiding behind the car.

You reemerged with a white envelope in your hand, holding it out to him. "Happy birthday, Carlos." you softly said, and he took the envelope out of your hands. He eyed you sceptically, before ripping the top of the envelope open. 

Carlos took the papers out of the envelope, his eyes scanning the words on the page. "Wait, really?" he asked, looking over it again and again. But low and behold, there were the plane tickets all the way to Ellison Onizuka Kona International Airport.

"It's kind of hard to get you gifts, so I thought this might be worth a little more, you know?" you said, really hoping he'd like it. Thankfully, you could tell by the glint in his eyes that he really did like it. 

"Oh baby thank you, seriously," he smiled, wrapping his arms around you in a hug. "You know you really didn't have to go through all this effort, right?" he told you. 

"Carlos, you're 30 now. You've not got long before you're in a nursing home and can't even wipe your own ass without help," you quipped, and his eyes widened in mock outrage. 

"I will have you know that I am nowhere near being sent to a nursing home! You're stuck with me, and now I think you've designated yourself to wipe my ass when I'm old and frail," he retorted with a feigned tone of hurt. 

"Oh shush. Anyway, go sit in the living room, there's a little more to do," you told him, pushing him in the direction of the door. Carlos just shook his head and laughed, walking out of the garage. 

"Getting bossed around on my own birthday, you sure are cruel to me," he tutted, going to sit on the couch as instructed. He watches as you disappeared into the kitchen, still finding the Hawaii outfit funny as ever. 

"Happy birthday to you," you started to sing, walking into the room with a cake covered in candles balanced in your hands. "I have just realised how awkward it is when I am the only one singing, but anyway," you laughed, and Carlos could only giggle at your awkwardness. 

"Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday dear Carlos, happy birthday to you," you quickly finished the song, just to get it over with. "Blow out the candles," you told him, and he did exactly that. 

"Thank you, darling." he smiled, leaning over the cake to give you a short yet sweet kiss on the lips. Looking at the cake, he saw that it was absolutely plastered with various memes that had been made of him over the years of racing. 

"I would have done the chili pepper, but Ferrari beat me to it last year. So, I had to get creative," you explained.

"You know, a normal cake would have been perfectly fine, you didn't have to go through so much effort," he sighed. He had told you this every year for the total 11 birthdays that you had spent together, yet he knew you would never listen to him. 

And he never wanted you to listen, not deep down. He loved the effort you went through to try and think of fun things to do for special events like birthdays, and he had enjoyed his trip down memory lane. Plus, he was getting a lovely trip to Hawaii with the love of his life and a cake that was funny as ever. 

"But thank you, really. I have had a wonderful day so far, and I'm barely an hour in, so I am doing pretty well for myself," Carlos said. 

"Don't expect this next year, I have officially exhausted my bank of idea for dumb things to force you through on your birthday,"

"Hey, it's not dumb. I loved every second of it," he reassured, you, putting the cake on the coffee table and leading you over to sit next to him on the couch. "Thank you, genuinely. I would've been happy with just having you here, so this is beyond anything I can ask of you."

"You deserve it," you smiled, leaning into his side as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you into him. You could smell the faint scent of burnt candles in the air and you sat in peace. "Feliz cumpleaños, Carlos." 

God how he loved it when you tried to speak Spanish. Was the accent off? Yes. But, was it one of the cutest things ever, in his mind. "Gracias, mi amor," he replied, planting a soft kiss on the side of your head, praising his lucky stars that he had you. He had lost you once, and he sure as hell never would again.

A/N - What a day! Carlos' birthday, Charles won Monza... next week is the 5 year anniversary of he won in Spa, he wins in Monza (there is something coming out for that, don't you fret) and I am having a wonderful day. I felt shit to begin with, but now? I do not care.

Happy birthday Carlos! Even when you're driving a Williams, I will still be watching out for the smoothest of operations 🌶🌶

|masterlist|

[stupidlittlespirit]

Claustrophobia

Rating: NSFW, mdni Type: Longform, smut Tags: Trapped in a closet, Dubious consent, premature ejaculation, dry humping, fingering, no pronouns but female body described, slight gaslighting, Reigen being a disgusting pervert, female body described and skirt/stockings but no pronouns. Word count: 9,140 (sorry it's so long) My other works: here on tumblr and here on Ao3!

Reader and Reigen get locked in a closet during a job gone wrong, and Reigen doesn't know how to behave. (inspired loosely by @vasiktomis's fic)

Reigen isn’t in the habit of taking solo jobs he can't handle alone. Not anymore, anyway,

He's learned that, quite understandably, no one can be reasonably expected to just drop what they’re doing to serve his whim when he finds himself facing a threat bigger than the boots that he places himself in sometimes. Nowadays, he sticks to what he knows and picks the work that's least likely to result in an untimely death. Without any psychic abilities of his own, Reigen tends to go for the less spiritually-inclined call outs.

When he'd taken this job, he had assumed it to be one of those times.

The client, Kawasaki, had bemoaned a supposed ghostly presence lingering in a rundown property of his, causing damage and defacing the place, and stopping him from renovating the house for new tenants. As loath as Reigen had been to help a landlord, the price of the job had been decent enough to convince him otherwise and so he had taken it on.

Kawasaki’s description during his consultation had sounded like nothing more than squatters or trespassing teenagers looking for somewhere quiet to make out. Serizawa had agreed; broken locks, leftover beer cans and abandoned trash aren’t common signs of spirits and so Reigen had thought little of attending without any psychic backup. If he can manage without Mob or Serizawa, he will. They’re both busy enough, it wouldn’t do to drag them away from their studies or their friends for no reason. Besides, Reigen is confident enough in his own ability to handle things, for better or worse.

Still, he isn’t dense enough to wander into an abandoned den filled with potentially unfriendly squatters and disgusting creepy-crawlies all on his lonesome. Reigen can be stupid, but he’s not dumb. Instead, he had requested (see: demanded) the help of the only other person in the office he knows rarely has anywhere else to be: You.

He’s well aware that you don’t have much going on outside of working hours and you’re usually moderately willing to stretch your legs a bit when the day has been slow. A person can only stand to look at paperwork for so many hours a day, he supposes.

When you’d asked why, exactly, he needed you of all people to join him, Reigen had been blunt: “I’d rather not get stabbed over a property dispute, if that’s alright with you. Plus, I need someone to keep an eye out for roaches.”

According to his expert assessment, the work would be simple: Get in, sweet talk the people inside into moving along, and collect the fee.

Except, as is often the case, nothing Reigen ever does is simple.

When the two of you arrive, the building is empty. There isn’t a single sign of life nor death inside the entire house and he isn't really that surprised. The place is absolutely rotten. Dirty wallpaper peels from place, the once rich-looking wooden fixtures are soft and stained a gross green colour, their usual glossy surfaces dull and sickly, and the interior is so degraded that he's not sure how the landlord intends to salvage the place, regardless of damage done by potential unwelcome visitors.

Sleeping on the street would be preferable to staying here.

“So much for squatters,” he hears you mutter, the beam of your flashlight swinging around the room. It skims from tattered floorboards to broken down shelving, circuiting the room as you turn on the spot in search of the client’s woes.

“Maybe they left,” Reigen says, peering into a side room. “Makes our job easier anyway.”

“I wouldn’t hang around here, I know that much,” you sigh.

“Why?” Reigen smirks. “Not scared, are you?” He can never pass up on an opportunity to provoke you. You’re always a breeze to wind up and Reigen would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy watching your hackles rise. He’s proficient in the art of being a dick, especially when it comes to you.

You roll your eyes at his attempt. “You wish. We should check upstairs at least, just to be sure.”

Reigen agrees, though in his ever chivalrous nature, he invites you to be the first one to brave the weak looking staircase. Each step you take up the rickety stairs is cautious, ensuring you won’t fall straight through the rotted wood and accidentally impale yourself on an exposed nail, and Reigen follows your footsteps perfectly.

It’s even darker up here. The windows are shuttered, boarded up tight beyond a few ripped out panels, and there doesn’t appear to be anyone hiding in the rooms; they’re equally as dilapidated as the ones downstairs. There are remnants of life in the house, though, besides the leftover trash: discarded boxes filled with long-abandoned books and menial belongings, old furniture and forgotten blankets, but they all appear to be as old as the home.

They’re covered in grime and clearly haven’t been touched much. The squatter theory looks weak without fresh signs of habitation, but there’s always the chance people are breaking in to snoop around.

Dust particles catch in the light beams of your torches as he takes you deeper inside, glittering and wispy, passing through the air like tiny little fairies uprooted from their hiding spots. Reigen swallows a sneeze and turns away from you, covering his nose and mouth with the sleeve of his jacket.

Dimly, he supposes he should have gotten masks for you both; the last thing he wants is a health and safety insurance claim on his hands if you inhale something gross. “If you see any asbestos, keep your distance,” he warns. “I’m not paying your hospital bill.”

“Thanks,” you reply, tone so dry it’s practically parched. “What does it look like?”

“No idea,” says Reigen, shrugging. “But don’t breathe it in.”

“Asshole.” He can almost hear you roll your eyes and he bites down on a grin.

The air is much cooler upstairs, icy enough to permeate Reigen’s suit and he suppresses a shiver as you follow his lead down a long hallway.

Despite his confidence in the office that the presence of a spirit here would be unlikely, he can’t help but feel nervous. Downstairs had been gross, but upstairs feels decidedly…. Unwelcoming in comparison. Like something is waiting for you both, hidden in the darkness and waiting to strike.

He knows it’s probably his imagination. This isn’t his first rodeo and usually a spirit makes itself known the moment he pokes around a bit. You’re just paranoid, Reigen thinks to himself, get a grip.

Your voice breaks through the silent air: “Can you feel that?” You whisper, coming up close behind him.

Anxiety rolls off of you in waves and Reigen can sense how tense you are even at a distance. He really ought to be a decent boss and offer some reassurance to the least experienced member of his team. You’re not usually the one who’s dragged into spooky places like this with little to no preparation; your expertise extends to paperwork and filing cabinets, and with no Esper abilities to speak of you’re completely exposed to danger. Reigen is too, he supposes, but he’s used to charging into unfriendly dens of danger without much care for his wellbeing.

He should be considerate and give you some warm words of comfort, offer to protect you if all hell breaks loose, yet he knows you’re not the type to cling to him like a frightened fawn and he’d only insult you if he suggested anything of the sort. Instead, he decides he’ll break the tension in a way that only he knows how.

He pauses at your front and you almost walk into the back of him, too busy looking behind you to pay attention. Reigen puts a hand out to keep you steady. “What do you mean?” He asks, glancing over his shoulder at you.

“I’m not sure,” you say, flicking your flashlight around in the darkness. “The air…. It feels heavy, don’t you think?”

Reigen hums and comes to stand behind you, swapping places and standing close enough that his chest bumps your back. “Actually, now that you mention it….”

Without a word, he reaches past you and motions for you to raise the flashlight a little, and you do as you’re asked, pointing it towards an empty room just off of the corridor. The beam is too weak to fully penetrate the darkness as you point it inside however, and the light barely makes a difference.

“What is it?” You whisper, craning your head around to see if you can spot whatever has caught his attention. The light is swallowed by the black expanse and it makes it seem as though the building is ten times as big as the distance you’ve just walked.

Reigen doesn’t answer your question.

The silence is deafening.

Reigen is so close to you that he can see the hairs rise on your arms in his own torchlight and he’s quite pleased when you lean away from where you’re pointing the light, pressing back against him unconsciously in order to distance yourself from whatever might lurk in the shadows. You might not be the sort of person that needs protecting, but he can’t deny that something stirs inside himself at the thought of you seeking him out for support anyway.

Nothing moves in the dark.

No one speaks a word.

It’s the most perfect set-up Reigen could imagine.

“Boo!”

His hands grab at your sides as he shouts right down your ear, as loud as he can manage. The scream you let loose is close to inhuman and in a pure panic, you lurch away from the source, scrambling aside until your shoulder collides hard against the wall. You swing your torch out violently in a feeble attempt to protect yourself from the unseen threat and Reigen dodges the heavy lump of metal, laughing his head off at his wonderfully successful prank.

The watery light lands on his doubled over form, collapsed against the opposing wall in a fit of ugly giggles, his body shaking with the force of it. He cackles at the terrified sight of you, hands still outstretched from where he’d seized your waist. “Your face!” Reigen gasps, struggling to breathe through his fits. “Man, you’re too easy!”

It doesn’t take a genius to see that you’re very admirably restraining yourself from throwing the torch at his head. You look like you’ve had the fear of God put in you, face paling and eyes wide, clutching at the ruined walls like a cartoon cat on the ceiling. The big grin that splits Reigen’s smug face suggests he’s overjoyed that he’s gotten such a reaction from you; he always is.

Furious, you lash out with one foot to kick at his shin. “Fuck off!” you hiss, breathless with fright. “Fucking asshole!”

Still laughing, Reigen nimbly avoids your attempted assault again. He looks far too pleased with himself and as soon as you can breathe again, you flounce off down the hallway and make your way back towards the staircase, leaving him pitched against the doorframe whilst he tries to get his breath back.

The darkness clearly doesn’t seem as frightening to you now that it’s clear the biggest threat in here is your jerk of a boss and you stride back the way you came, ignoring Reigen’s half-hearted shouts for you to wait. He won’t let you get too far without him. Although the house is empty, it’s still run down and dodgy as fuck. The last thing he wants is for you to be so angry with him that you fall down the stairs or cut yourself escaping his mean spirited jokes.

“Wait a second!” Reigen shouts, still struggling to sound completely serious. He scrambles after you, following the sound of your heavy footsteps as you stomp back the way you’d come.

“It’s not funny,” you snap over your shoulder. “Get lost. You can go-!” Your sentences halts halfway through, cut off almost comically, and Reigen is mildly disappointed that you’re not throwing rabid insults his way.

“C’mon,” Reigen cajoles, pushing his luck as he rounds the corner to the landing. “Don’t be like that, I thought you could take a joke!” He’s still got a stupid grin on his face as he comes closer and he takes a breath to say something else when abruptly he realises you’re standing stock still in place.

You look even more terrified than you had moments earlier and briefly, Reigen worries he might have caused permanent trauma “What is it?” Reigen asks, suddenly sounding a lot less jovial. “I didn’t scare you that badly, did I?”

At the foot of the staircase, the floorboards squeak and a foreign voice speaks aloud into the damp air: “I thought it was funny.”

He freezes mid-step, one foot suspended in the air. The voice doesn’t belong to anyone he recognises and judging by the look on your face, it doesn’t belong to anyone you know either. A cold and unpleasant sensation slides down the back of his neck, like a fat droplet of ice water trickling along his skin. The heavy, dense atmosphere is back, even worse than it had been when you’d first come up here.

Cautiously, like he’s afraid the room might explode, Reigen edges toward where you’re standing. You don’t look at him at all, eyes fixed on whatever has spoken at the foot of the staircase, and it makes Reigen’s blood run cold again. Very slowly, he ekes his flashlight up from where it points at the floor to join yours and shines it’s weak beam towards the source of the sound. It illuminates the bottom most stair and as he raises it higher and higher, the form of an impossibly black figure reveals itself.

It’s vaguely human shaped, except the limbs are longer than they should be and they’re bent at uncomfortable angles, like it’s stuffed into the space it crouches in. The thing is big enough that it takes up the entire doorway at the foot of the stairs and it seems to almost absorb the light of the torch, watching the two of you closely with a featureless face. No, not quite totally featureless. Rather than have eyes or a nose, or any other defining characteristic, It has a big, horrible smile, made up of crooked teeth that peek out from behind non-existent lips.

Reigen hears your breathing hitch in fear and this time, his responsible boss attitude does take over. He curls a hand around your wrist and inches in front of you, sheltering your body with his. The spirit is big. Bigger than the usual ones he faces off against. With only a bag of salt in his pocket and a hopeful prayer in his heart, Reigen knows he’s limited in options on how to deal with this. There’s no Mob and no Serizawa to back him up. He’s on his own for this one and he really doesn’t want to give you the impression that he can’t handle things by himself.

Maybe he can use the only trusty weapon he has in his arsenal: His mouth. Reigen holds his free hand up in an innocent gesture. “Sorry,” he says, plastering on a fake smile. “Didn’t mean to disturb you. We were just, uh, exploring….”

The spirit makes a sound of disgust, like two rusty metal sheets rubbing together, and it begins to crawl up the stairs, inch by inch. “Exploring each other, more like. Why is it always my house you kids come to fuck in?”

Reigen chokes on his tongue, his face burning. “Hey, come on, it’s not like that!”

“Of course you are, you’re all the same.” The spirit’s mouth draws back into an impossibly wider grin. “Why can’t you just get handsy in the car like everyone else?”

“Fuck off,” you snap, though your voice is weak. “No one’s coming to this shit hole to have sex.”

The spirit’s grin turns downward into a furious scowl and Reigen barely predicts what’s about to happen in enough time to yank you away from harm. The grotesque creature launches itself upward, its long limbs allowing it the capacity to make short work of the remaining stairs, and it lunges straight for the both of you with a snarling shout of indignance at your insult of its home.

Reigen manages a shout of warning before he yanks you aside, grabbing your hand in a bruising grip, and he pulls you out of the thing’s path with all the strength he can muster. You have the good sense to let him manhandle you across the landing, abandoning your torch in favour of hanging onto him, and you stagger alongside towards the hallway again.

The creature crashes against the wall at the top of the stairs, the force of its strike knocking over the old furniture that’s been discarded there to grow mouldy and old. The wood crunches horribly on impact and Reigen is always impressed by the way spirits, for such non-corporeal beings, manage incredible ways of destroying their far more material environments with ease. Right now, however, he’d rather not go the same way as that chest of drawers. He doesn’t plan on dying in a place like this and there’s no way he’s about to let you meet a grisly end either. He’s far too fond of you for that.

The spirit has the stairs cornered, which leaves little else in the way of an escape route. Reigen has no choice but to take you deeper into the house and hope to lead the thing around in a circle to free up the stairway. Barrelling down the corridor, Reigen is running blind. He realises he must have dropped his flashlight in the chaos, too, because everything in the house is so incredibly dark that he feels like there’s a bag over his head. It’s almost impossible for him to see where he’s going, there’s no way he’ll be able to get his bearings well enough to loop the property like this.

That is, until a sliver of light from another room catches his eye. Reigen pivots on his heel at breakneck speed and heaves you sideways with him through the open doorway, ever the nimble little weasel. He slams the door shut behind you and scans the room for a hiding place, breathing hard and keeping a tight, sweaty hold of your hand.

“What do we do?!” You gasp, out of breath from both the running and the fear. “We can’t get out, what do we-!”

“In there!” Reigen points across the dim room. On the far side past a broken down bed and several piles of boxes and filthy duvets, there’s a slim little closet. It’s the only thing in here that seems to still be whole and mercifully preserved from the rot that’s infected the rest of the building. It’s the best bet either of you will have at staying hidden.

Reigen doesn’t wait for you to answer. Instead, he lugs you towards it and wrenches open the doors, tumbling inside. Reigen’s back hits the wall as he flattens himself against the interior, his body folding awkwardly in order to fit into the cramped, tight space, and he hauls you in after him. You’re all elbows and knees as you land on him, scrabbling for purchase in a panic, and your body shoves at his while you try and find your balance in the darkness.

He pushes you against the opposing side, his hands clutching your waist to stop you from wobbling and falling right back out into the open, and his legs tangle up between both of yours. By some stroke of good fortune, you have the presence of mind to snatch the doors shut after yourself. They close with a mercifully quiet click! and then it’s just the two of you, panting hard and fast into the dimness as you listen for signs of your undead pursuer.

Several somethings clatter around in the hallway, followed by the sound of breaking glass and a frustrated growl, and Reigen strains to hear if the sounds are moving any closer to the bedroom you’re sheltering in.

After a few long moments, however, nothing comes.

Reigen breathes a silent sigh of relief and then feels you shift in place. You’re virtually painted onto his front, your chest squashed against his own and your face not even half an inch away from his. It dawns on him that this is quite the intimate position to be in with a person he’s supposed to be in charge of, and he feels the cool sweat of adrenaline turn into lukewarm awkwardness.

You tilt your head a fraction to give yourself a bit of room to speak and your lips brush up against his cheek. “What were you thinking?!” you scold him in barely a whisper.

“Huh?” Reigen murmurs back, trying to ignore the sensation.

“We’re sitting ducks in here,” you breathe. “If that fucking thing finds us, we’re dead!”

He hadn’t really considered that. The closet is tiny and dark, only a tiny filtering of pale light from a broken window board across the room reaches through the thin slats sitting just above your heads. It smells like dank old oak and probably a few different cultures of microorganisms. The only thing there’s room for in here is mould and dust. Neither he nor you will be able to escape if the spirit figures out where you’re hiding.

“Just shut up,” Reigen mutters, flexing his hands on your waist. “Stay quiet until it gets bored and then we can sneak out.” It’s a weak plan, but it’s all he has right now.

A few rooms over, something crashes against a wall and you flinch against him.

Reigen can feel the warmth of your body seeping into his own through your clothes, your breasts brushing the front of his shirt, your hips locked with his own. Your arms are forced almost around one another, both of you clinging to the other’s sides. Perhaps it’s the excitement of the chase, or maybe the thrill of escaping yet another near-death situation, but Reigen’s blood feels like it’s catching alight. He’s warming up all over, perspiration beading at his temples, and he isn’t quite sure how to stop it. Were he to purse his lips, he might even accidentally kiss you.

Reigen is technically in charge of you. It’s well known in the office that all of you work side-by-side, however on the paperwork side of things, he is legally your superior. He’s supposed to uphold a certain air of respectability around his colleagues yet when it comes to you, he finds that responsibility getting more difficult by the day. You argue back and forth with him, always ready to challenge his overpowering confidence when it starts to get out of hand, and he can tell you enjoy the verbal sparring as much as he does.

There’s something unsaid between you both, something heavy that’s only been building over time, but Reigen is too afraid to drop his façade of being The Boss Of You to investigate it further in case he’s read the entire situation wrong. If you were to refuse him, to laugh in his face, he'd never live it down. He couldn't handle such a dent in his ego and he'd rather die than admit it aloud.

He does his best to hide it when he chances little looks at you and so far he’s only been caught out on his less-than-professional observations once, by Ekubo. Horrible little fiend that the ghost is, he’d caught Reigen sneaking a peek at your ass as you’d cleaned a cupboard in the staffroom, chatting away to him and none the wiser of his perverseness; you’d been on your hands and knees, half disappeared into the space under the sink, and Reigen had seized the opportunity to drink in a spectacular view of you from behind.

Your skirt had risen ever so slightly too high, revealing the top of your stockings and the thin sliver of the clips that held the fabric in place, and Reigen had lurked silently in the doorway, watching closely and committing the sight to memory.

Until, of course, Ekubo had materialised out of thin air, as he is so often wont to do, grinning lasciviously, and scared the shit out of Reigen so badly that he’d almost tumbled backwards out of the room. Despite the rude interruption, he’s never forgotten the sight.

Reigen knows it's wrong, that it's fucked up that he'd view a staff member, a friend, like that, and yet he's never had the willpower to put a stop to it. Images of you in raunchy positions just like on that day have haunted his mind on late, lonely nights whilst his hand has wandered into the waistband of his underwear of its own accord.

He’s fully aware that he shouldn’t be jerking himself off every night thinking of you stuck under the sink, unable to get away from his curious hands, but he can’t ever feel guilty enough to think of anything else.

Right now, he wishes he'd at least tried. The memories of those imagined scenarios are stirred up by your closeness and he thinks, distantly, that if he'd tried to be a good person for once and made an effort to ignore them then he might not be struggling as much as he is currently. He’s never intended for you to find out about his fantasies and getting caught short like this is probably not going to go down well. He needs to stop thinking about all of this before it gets out of hand.

The sound of floorboards groaning out in the hallway outside makes you startle and you squirm between his legs, straining to look through the slats of the door. One of your thighs rubs up into his crotch, sleek material gliding against his suit, and he’s reminded that you’re wearing another skirt today; the smoothness of your legs means you’re more than likely in stockings again and the memory rears its head. Reigen grunts softly, gritting his teeth. “Stop it,” he grinds out quietly. “Quit moving.”

Much to his distress, you don't. Rather than obey his command, you use his body to push yourself further up to peek out of the slats and Reigen is forced to tighten his hold around your middle, dragging you back down. If you won't stop, he's going to have to make you. He digs his fingers into your side, bunching them up in the fabric of your shirt and pulling it downward to still you.

“Let go of me, you idiot,” you hiss, attempting to pry off his grip and straighten up. “I can't see!”

Reigen is sure you don’t intend to do it but the motion of your movement forces your hips to rock forward into his and he bites down on his lip so hard that he thinks he's drawn blood. He attempts to move away again, only to bump his knees against the wall under you. Reigen sucks in a sharp breath, ready to snap at you again to force you to back off, until the door to the room you're in bursts open like a group of police officers exercising a warrant. It slams against the wall loudly, the whole thing vibrating with the force. Nose to nose with him, you share a look of panic.

Something lets out a rattle of breath outside.

Reigen leans his head aside to press his mouth against your ear. “Don’t fucking move,” he says, barely audible, and he does his best not to notice the way you tilt your own head to let him fit in closer. His breath is hot against your skin and if he isn’t mistaken, you might even shiver a little.

The creature outside prowls into the bedroom, grunting and growling to itself as it searches between littered furniture for the two stowaways. Its nails scrape on the floorboards, the sound getting louder and louder until it pauses, right outside the closet. There’s a chittering noise that reverberates in Reigen’s chest and just beyond the wood, barely a hands-width away from your heads, the spirit sniffs up and down the seam of the closet. It sounds like there’s something wet caught in its throat, each draw of breath a phlegm filled rattle, and it scratches its claws on the door, seeking out any living forms within.

The spirit smells foul. Its scent is somewhere between death and rancid meat, and Reigen swallows against the saliva that rises and swims in his mouth, trying not to gag. The freezing air on its dead breath ruffles the hair at the tops of your heads and washes you both with the scent.

A swaying cobra, its form moves across the light that filters into the cupboard, turning it murky and dark but not quite removing it entirely, almost as though it’s trying to peer inside despite its lack of eyes. After a few minutes of unbearably intense silence, the spirit seems to give up on sniffing you out. It lashes out at the closet doors with its talons, tearing into the surface of the wood, before turning tail and lurching out of the room to continue its search elsewhere.

The aggressive swipe it takes at the closet makes the whole thing rattle loudly, bouncing the doors inward with force, and you jolt as though you’ve been hit. Instinctively, Reigen turns his head to check that you’re not hurt and at the same time, you turn yourself into him even more, afraid of the thing lurking outside. In the tight space, with barely even enough room to breathe, the motion forces your mouths to slot together. It can hardly be called a kiss; you’re doing little more than exchanging oxygen with one another, yet it’s so close to one that Reigen’s body betrays him almost instantly.

On your breath, he can smell the sugary strawberries you’d eaten on the way over here and again his mind conjures images, unbidden, of your lips wrapped around the fruit’s soft flesh as you’d eaten them in the passenger seat of the hire car, of the smile on your face when he handed them over; a bribe from a stopover at a gas station to stop your complaints about the long drive and an entirely selfish gesture on his part, purely for the reward of your attention (and perhaps, too, for the guilty pleasure of watching you lick your fingers clean when you’d finished).

The thought reignites the heat in his body and almost instantly, all of the blood in his brain sinks to his crotch. Reigen gets hard so quickly that he almost passes out. He isn’t sure where he finds the resolve, but somehow he manages to hold back the tiny little groan that threatens to spill from his throat, instead breathing in sharply through his nose at the sensation. Reigen’s eyes flutter shut momentarily, both in pleasure and in anticipatory fear of the look on your face.

He knows you must have noticed; his suit fabric is cheap and thin, barely a barrier to hide behind, and with your own legs exposed by your skirt there’s no way you could miss it. The weak light allows him to make out that you glance down and then back up to him.

Embarrassment burns on his face.

“It’s my cell phone,” Reigen lies without hesitation, defending his pride before you can even begin to question it. “Don’t flatter yourself.” He knows better than to throw out an insult to protect his own decency, however he’s starting to panic a little more than a seasoned sleuth should be and it has nothing to do with a ghostly presence.

You clear your throat softly and nod, looking away. The smirk on your face only makes his cheeks burn more; you’ll never let this go if he doesn’t act fast and distract you. “Look, we need to make a run for it while we still have the chance,” Reigen says quietly, trying to will away his arousal as best he can. “We open the doors and sneak back to the stairs. Don’t say a word and follow my lead, got it?” He’s being stricter than he usually is, partially to conceal his humiliation and partially because he needs to put his mind to something that doesn’t involve his dick.

“Sure thing, boss,” you whisper back, and Reigen can hear the amusement in your tone. He chooses to ignore it. When you get back to the office though, he’s going to make you clean that damn sink again in penance and he won’t feel the slightest bit of guilt for watching you do it. Maybe this time, he’ll even take a picture for his private collection….

Lower down in the closet, the light is completely swallowed again by darkness and Reigen has to blindly take one hand off of your waist to slide it along the door until his fingers bump against the knob. He takes hold of it and twists, attempting to push the door outward slowly. Except, the door doesn’t move. It doesn’t even budge. Confused, Reigen twists the metal further in case he hasn’t moved it around far enough and tries again. Still, nothing happens.

“What are you waiting for?” you say, frustrated.

“It won’t open,” Reigen grunts, rattling the doorknob as hard as he dares. He can’t afford to make too much noise and draw the spirit back towards you both, but he can’t risk losing the chance to run for it, either.

“Please tell me you’re fucking kidding,” you say in a strained whisper. “Reigen, stop messing aroun-”

“I’m not!” Reigen growls, jiggling it again. “I can’t get it- it won’t open!” He applies a little more pressure, wrenching it back and forth a few more times until, after one particularly frustrated yank, there’s a sickening crunch of dead wood and more light pools into the closet via a new, small hole.

He’s ripped the entire thing off.

“Oh,” says Reigen quietly.

You stare at him in utter disbelief.

“This place is falling apart,” Reigen says, immediately protective of his screw up. “It isn’t my fault-”

“You pulled the fucking handle off, Reigen!” Your voice rises momentarily before you wrestle it back under control at Reigen’s rather brusque shhh! “You pulled it off,” you repeat, far quieter this time but still distressed. “We’ll be trapped in here for hours, you idiot!”

You’re right. The only two people who know you’re both here are Mob and Serizawa. Mob is busy with friends and it’ll take Serizawa a little while to catch on that something is wrong. The job is about forty minutes from the office; allowing for travel and the time it takes to complete the work, Reigen can safely estimate that it’ll be a while before your absence is questioned. That means he’s going to be stuck in this stupid little closet, half hard and totally distracted, with you glued to him for a long time.

He tips his head back against the closet wall and sighs, closing his eyes as he tries to wrack his brain for potential options.

Reigen wonders if he should just try throwing himself at the door and facing off with a hungry spirit. It might be more preferable than his current situation, at least.

It’s uncharacteristic of you to be so mute when Reigen fucks up, and after a few minutes of miserable silence he opens his eyes again to check that you’re still there. You are, of course, but there’s a look on your face that Reigen rarely sees you wear. Despite the shitty light, he can just about make out that your eyes are becoming wide, gaze darting around the closet, and he can feel your chest beginning to rise and fall far quicker than normal, just like it had when he’d made you jump. Your breath is coming in fast, short pants and your hands grasp at the front of his shirt.

You’re starting to panic.

Abruptly, Reigen remembers you confiding in him a while ago whilst the two of you had watched some terrible horror movie together, lounging around in his apartment one evening, about how much you disliked the thought of being trapped.

The protagonist had been buried alive and you’d barely been able to finish the rest of the movie, too caught up in the anxiety of the scenario to remember how unlikely it would be for a similar fate to befall you. You’d clutched his arm so tightly that he’d found a small bruise the next morning in the shower and he can still recall how excited he had felt to have a souvenir of your presence….

Focus! Reigen warns himself, straightening up as best he can to force himself back into the moment. Now isn’t the time!

He squeezes your waist gently, a reassuring reminder that he’s right here with you. “Calm down, I’ve got it all under control,” Reigen lies through his teeth, slipping back into his false bluster the moment he knows he’s fucking things up. “We can wait until the spirit goes back to sleep and then-”

“Spirits don’t sleep!” You snap. “I’m not waiting-”

“They totally do!” Reigen replies, annoyed that you’re questioning his ever profound knowledge. “Look, I’m the professional here, you don’t even come out on jobs so why don’t you just-”

“You got us stuck in here in the first place, mister professional,” you say angrily. Both of your voices are stage whispers now, caught between concealing your presence and yelling at one another. “There has to be a safety release in here!” Your body twists viciously as you squirm around, hands flitting across the inside of the closet in an urgent attempt to free yourself from its confines.

Somehow, despite the tiny space, the ferocity of your search manages to turn you around until your back is flat against his chest instead, your body ramming his.

Reigen is torn between biting his own tongue off in frustration at the feeling of you writhing against him and yanking you closer to seek more contact. He drops the doorknob onto his foot, praying the sound will be muffled enough that it won’t draw attention and freeing up his other hand to grab a hold of you before anything more mortifying occurs. He needs to distract you, for his sake and yours.

“Hey, stop!” He attempts to prevent you from going any further, wrapping his arms around your waist and anchoring you down. “Easy, just stay still-”

“Get off of me!” you snap, tilting your head toward him and wriggling against his grip even harder. With every move, your ass bounces off of his lap and Reigen prays to whatever god is listening that he doesn’t make any more of a fool of himself than he already has today. The sensation is sinful, like he’s fucking you with your clothes on, and Reigen isn’t sure that he can hold out like this.

“Wait,” you pant, halting your search in the darkness to reach behind yourself for his slacks’ pocket. “Your cell phone, you said you brought it in, right?” You slide your hand down behind your back, right past his midriff, and grope around for the lifeline, palming at whatever you can reach. “Call Serizawa, he can exorcise that thing and let us out!”

Those gods must be laughing at him.

Abruptly, Reigen lurches his body aside, feebly trying to avoid your intrusive touch and acutely aware that his lie is about to be found out. “Stop,” he begs you softly, starting to panic himself. “Please. You gotta stop touching me or I’m gonna-” He drops his hands from your waist to grab yours where they rest, halfway into his pockets and you wrestle with him for a second to try and move him away. Reigen swears under his breath.

The proximity and your wriggling make a horrible, delicious concoction and his body reacts accordingly: Reigen is hard again. He can’t fight it anymore, not with your hands so close to his cock and your breath so hot against his cheek.

What happens next is a complete accident, an automatic move he makes before his brain catches up: Hands clamping down around your waist, Reigen purposefully rolls his hips into the soft curve of your ass, hard enough to gain the exact, exquisite friction that he’s been denying himself the entire time he’s been in here with you. Everything occurs so fast that he just about has time to clamp his hand over his mouth to stifle a pathetic little sob as he cums, hard, in his pants. He squeezes his eyes shut, stars blooming behind his eyelids, and pants desperately as he tries to catch his breath.

At his front, you’ve gone very still.

For a few minutes, no one speaks. Only Reigen’s ragged breathing and the sounds of birds somewhere way off beyond the confines of the house fill the silence, until you finally find your voice again: "Seriously?”

Reigen isn’t a stranger to making an idiot of himself, but this is definitely a new low for him. He knows how much trouble he’s going to be in when the two of you get out of here and he can practically smell the oncoming harassment lawsuit wafting through the stale air. Although, maybe that’s just the scent of his sweaty embarrassment….

Ever keen to save face though, Reigen does his best to play stupid. “What?” He asks, voice frayed at the edges.

“Did you just blow your fucking load-”

“Absolutely not-!”

“My ass is wet, Reigen,” you hiss. “I can feel it through my skirt!”

The thin material around the front of his slacks is soaked through, he knows you can. “No, it isn’t,” he scoffs, denying it without hesitation. “You’re imagining things.”

“Liar.” You tilt your hips back minutely, just enough to rub up on his spent erection, and Reigen breathes in sharply. “I didn’t realise you were so into ghouls and near death experiences,” you whisper, sounding amused in spite of your annoyance.

“It’s not a ghoul,” Reigen corrects automatically, mouth moving independently of his brain. He swallows thickly and shifts in place. “And even if something like that did happen,” he says, trying to sound dismissive. “It’s because you won’t stop moving, it’s only natural.”

“That’s… A pathetic excuse,” you admonish, head tipped back toward him. “Even for you.” Your tongue darts out to wet your lower lip, however in such close quarters, the motion effectively wets the corner of his, too. Hot spit brushes against his lip and Reigen’s mouth parts almost of its own accord, an automatic reaction to the stimulus. The angle is awkward but your mouths slide together, the slickness of the skin unbelievably arousing.

“S’not an excuse, it’s your fault.” Reigen protests weakly, lips catching against your own as you nudge your nose along his cheek. He knows he should really apologise for his indecency, that he should try to find a way out of this situation as quickly as possible, and yet…. That heavy, unspoken feeling that so often follows him around when he’s with you is filling up the interior of the closet like thick cotton wool. Your words are sharp and stinging, but you don’t seem to be as disgusted as you sound. It makes his head swim and his legs feel weak, and in some kind of unfortunate miracle, Reigen can feel his cock stir with interest again already.

“You’re really blaming it all on me? You’re the one who dragged me along to this and you’re the one who got us locked in this closet.” You laugh quietly under your breath at him, disbelieving and more than a little entertained. “God, you’re insufferable.” You press backward again and Reigen chokes back a whimper.

“I told you to stop-”

“Stop what, boss?” you ask, feigning innocence, and fuck does he hate how much you’re able to get under his skin. No one else toys with him like this, teases him. No one else dares to question his leadership or to wind him up until he explodes. No one else except you.

Reigen grits his teeth so hard he swears he feels them creak under the pressure. “If you don’t quit moving around like that, I’m not going to be held responsible for what I do next,” he grinds out. He knows you’re provoking him on purpose and he shouldn’t fall for it so easily, but he’s powerless like this and if there’s one thing Reigen hates; it’s feeling fucking powerless.

“Oh? And what are you going to do about it?” You ask, words heavy with ridicule. “Cum in your pants again?”

Reigen has had enough of your attitude.

“Fine,” he snaps. “You want to play dirty? Let’s see how you like it.” He’s been aching to touch you for so long; if this is the only chance he’s going to get, he’ll take it. Reigen isn’t one to watch opportunities pass him by. He wants to grope and grab and feel his way all over you, and he just doesn’t have the willpower in himself to resist it anymore, especially when you’re winding him up like this.

Reigen’s hands drop from where they hold your waist, inching to your hips and down to grope at your ass. It’s just like every wet dream he’s ever had about you; you’re stuck with nowhere to go, at his mercy as he touches and grabs whatever he can reach.

You breathe in sharply at his touch and your back arches, silently seeking his attention. “That’s so inappropriate,” you whisper, and he can hear the smirk in your voice. You don’t mean a word you’re saying. “I should report you.”

“Oh yeah? So do it,” he challenges, pawing at the curve of your backside greedily. “I’m sure they’d love to hear all about how you started it.” It feels like a dam has broken inside him, a flood that he’s held at bay for so long that it’s too overpowering to put a stop to now that it’s begun to overflow, and without your outright refusal, Reigen feels justified in his act. His hips rock forward again and he shudders, his own arousal not forgotten.

At his front, you snicker to yourself at his neediness to chase the feeling and he feels one of your arms snake upward to loop around his neck, your hand clutching at the back of his hair. The action prickles goosebumps along his skin.

“Fuck,” Reigen gasps as he moves, words tumbling out in soft pants. “You couldn’t just stay still, could you? Moving your ass like that, in your stupid fucking skirt and your stupid fucking stockings.” As his hips roll into you, his fingers travel to your skirt to find the tops of said lingerie and he runs his touch up the nearest strap of your garter belt.

You make a soft sound of surprise. “Stockings? How do you know I wear stock-”

Reigen pings the elastic, cutting off your words and making you gasp at the sensation, your fingers tugging at the strands of his hair. Reigen smirks, pleased to finally get the upper hand even if only for a moment. “I’ve seen them before, in the office- drives me fuckin’ crazy, ” he pants into your parted mouth. “Every time you bend over, your skirt is too short.”

“It is? I had no idea….” You pout, lower lip touching his. The words are faker than Reigen’s confidence and it makes him grin.

“I knew it,” he says, ego emboldened. “Tease.”

“Pervert,” you fire back with a smirk, legs opening a little wider as his curious hand trails up from the band of the lingerie toward your inner thigh.

“D’you wear them every day?”

“Only when I know we’ll be alone together,” you confess.

Something about your admission turns Reigen on even more. The thought that you’re only wearing them for him, for his attention, is mind blowing. He can imagine you slipping them on in the morning, thinking of him as you study yourself in the mirror before you leave for work. Reigen squeezes your ass again and uses the leverage to his advantage as he continues to work himself against you, head filled with the intimate images.

His fingers slip up your leg until they brush against the crotch of your underwear, the curve of your pussy hidden underneath. Much to his pleasant surprise, he notices that he’s not alone in his needy desire. He can feel that you’re similarly affected by the closeness, enough wetness seeping through the lacey fabric that he suspects you might have been aroused for just as long as he has. “Look at that,” Reigen teases softly, a smug grin spreading on his face. “Acting so high and mighty when you’re just as desperate for it.” He can’t deny the swell of narcissistic pride that rises in his chest; he’s making you wet. You. The object of his obsession, the person he’s only ever dreamt of having like this. It’s his touch that has you keening and sighing, even if you won’t admit it.

You scoff, refusing to give him the satisfaction. “Am not-!” Your protests are smothered in favour of a hushed groan as Reigen’s thick finger nudges past your underwear and slides easily up into your cunt, your wetness offering no resistance at all.

“You were saying?” Reigen smirks, slowly inching his finger in and out, bit by bit. You’re so warm and tight around him, hips grinding down, back and forth in time with his motions. Every movement has your ass rubbing on him and Reigen lets out a shaky sigh as he presses up to meet you.

His dick strains against the fabric and silently, he wishes he had the room to free himself and fuck you silly. Now that he doesn’t have to pretend to be anything but the perverted mess that he is, Reigen ruts against your ass like a dog in heat. The enclosed space feels stifling with both of your bodies heating it up, sweat pooling at the back of his collar as he works himself up all over again. He knows he'll look a mess by the time you both manage to escape this place.

You’ve begun to make pretty little sounds against his mouth, hushed moans mixing with his desperate pants as he works his finger inside you and it’s so obscene that Reigen almost finishes on the spot. You’re both making too much noise and at this rate, you’re at risk of getting killed if the spirit returns to find you both doing exactly what it had accused you of breaking in for. Reigen knows he needs to quieten down and find a way to shut you up, too. In the fraction of free space between you, he nuzzles his mouth to yours. Although what you’re engaged in is amorous enough, the gesture is so intimate in comparison that it makes his heart flutter. “Can I kiss you?” Reigen asks, surprisingly timid considering how vigorously he’s fucking your ass.

Debauched as you are, you roll your eyes. “Finally,” you murmur. “He asks.” You sound almost relieved by his request, as though you’ve been hoping he might offer such a thing, and Reigen grins to himself.

When he kisses you, it’s sloppy; messy, unskilled and full of spit. He licks his way into your mouth enthusiastically and sighs at the touch, a trembling breath that whistles through his nose and dampens the skin of your cheek. You grunt at the force but you allow him to continue, coaxing his tongue with your own in an attempt to slow him down. Reigen doesn’t listen. He’s too confident in his own ability to take advice from you and far too excited to calm himself down anymore.

Between your legs, he presses a second finger into you, relishing in your gasp of pleasure. You’re so wet that his palm is quickly becoming slick with your arousal as he pumps his fingers and Reigen relinquishes your mouth with a lewd smack. “Fuck, you’re really into this aren’t you?” He says, bumping noses with you. “So wet and-!” Reigen’s words end in a choked off moan as you let go of his hair and drop your hand to reach behind you, cupping his cock mid-thrust.

You grasp him firmly through his damp slacks and let him grind into your grip. “You’ve got a big mouth, Reigen,” you pant, teasing. “Someone ought to teach you how to use it.”

Your hand is all he needs. Reigen is too greedy to stop himself when he knows his end is near and even if he wanted to, he’s helpless to stop it. He ought to at least try and hold on, to make up for his earlier premature finale and prove that he’s good at this kind of thing so you’ll think he’s somewhat of a decent fuck and maybe even ask for it again, but he just can’t.

A tension builds in his lower stomach, red hot and carnal, and then he’s cumming all over again, spilling into his already-filthy underwear. Reigen shudders violently, seizing you in another clumsy kiss. He almost bangs heads with you as he attempts to cover the pathetic little moans that bubble up out of him by smothering them into your mouth. Reigen’s knees feel weak again and he slumps against the closet wall behind him, breathing hard and totally spent.

You tip back the short distance with him and laugh . “So soon? I was just starting to enjoy myself….”

The back of Reigen’s neck heats up and he curls his fingers. “Sounded like you were enjoying yourself plenty,” he snipes, out of breath but still able to find a sharp-tongued reply.

You choke on a moan and wiggle your ass to encourage him. “I could stand to enjoy myself a little bit more,” you say, cheeky.

Reigen grins. He might be selfish when it comes to his own pleasure, but he won’t leave you high and dry (or wet, as the case may be). “Relax,” he whispers against your ear, cocky now that he can have you at his mercy instead. “We’ve got plenty of time, you said so yourself, right?...”

•••••

In the end, it takes Serizawa three hours to come to your rescue. He exorcises the spirit and frees you both in under five minutes, and when you finally return back to the office, Reigen still has you clean under the sink before he lets you go home for the day.

reader during this fic like

[glow-worms-are-believers]

Mistaken Identities (dp x dc)

Danny had been doing his thing, looking around, making sure he didn't alter anything in the past, minding his own business. Officially, this was supposed to be a trip to gather more blood blossom samples for Team Phantom to study, but he had ended up being a little sidetracked. Apparently though, puritan times made for beautiful forests, sue him if he was enjoying a moment of peace in his otherwise crazy life. So here he was, relaxing for the first time in way too long when this guy just barged into the clearing. Danny straightened up with a yelp which had the guy stopping in his tracks before he turned to look at Danny.

"Be not afraid, child. I mean you no harm," the man said.

Danny squinted as he looked up at the half-shadowed face of the man that seemed vaguely familiar.

"Boy?"

"Uh-" Danny managed as he realized he was supposed to answer. "Oh yeah, no problem, man."

The man tilted his head which directed Danny's attention to his weird buckle-hat. Sobering up as he recognized the clothes from his previous jaunt in the past where Sam had almost gotten burnt at the stake, he mentally congratulated himself for turning back into a human before his nap. He really didn't want to end up trapped in blood blossoms by witch-finders again.

"Are you lost?" The man said, as he edged closer. "Do you require aid?"

The halfa jumped to his feet. "Nope!" Danny said before letting out a nervous laugh. "No aid, I'm all good. Thanks though."

The man opened his mouth to say something before another voice, higher pitched stopped him. "You are back!" A woman wearing a simple dress, with a few birds fluttering around her like a Disney princess approached them.

"Annie," answered the man.

"Come," she said before leading him away with only a glance towards the teenager. The man let himself be dragged away, but not before a last few words. "If you are ever in need of assistance, please do not hesitate."

Danny waved his hand. "Yep. For sure, dude. Thanks!"

Then before the man had turned away completely, the woman grabbed his hat playfully which revealed his face completely to the weak moonlight, and coincidentally to Danny's view. The couple disappeared between the thick foliage as Danny sat, struck dumb with what he had just witnessed.

"Oh my god," he whispered to himself. "That was Bruce fucking Wayne."

Danny had seen enough rag magazines and newspapers with his face printed on the cover to recognize the billionaire for sure. What the hell was he doing in Puritan times? Then, it hit Danny like a brick. Natural portals. They weren't common, or stable and they'd been known to spirit away people randomly. Clearly, they also had some pretty severe side-effects including amnesia considering the old-timey speech pattern Mr. Wayne was using.

There was only one thing for it, Danny clearly had to bring Mr. Wayne back to the present. Not only because it was the right thing to do, but also because a missing billionaire was bound to attract a good amount of attention and if anyone connected this to the ghost zone... Well if the GIW was bad now, Danny didn't want to know what other kind of unsavoury people would pop up if ghosts were better-known. Just imagining the Justice League getting involved was giving Danny the shivers. No, the best thing to do was get Mr. Wayne back to his time and hope he wouldn't remember much of what had happened and wouldn't dig into it further.

Just as he was nodding to himself, he heard a scream coming from not too far away. He transformed before flying towards the noise, only to find the woman he'd seen before with Mr. Wayne being captured by a bunch of men wearing the same kinds of hat.

"She's a witch! Burn her!" He heard someone yell. "Hang her dead!" Someone else said.

This was giving Danny some major flashback to Sam's very own witch burning and without wasting a second, he phased the woman right out of their grips and flew them away from the angry mob.

As soon as he landed and let go of the woman, she turned to him and gripped his arm instead. "You have to help him!"

"Help who?" Danny asked, wincing.

"Mordecai!" she said, her grip tight.

"Is that the man who was with you earlier?" the teenager asked.

The woman nodded before pointing southeast. "He is in the caves, fighting the dragon!"

Danny didn't waste anytime before flying in the direction she had pointed to. Going intangible helped with speed, and he phased through the ground, going straight for the aforementioned cave. He just phased through when he caught sight of Mr. Wayne. As he got closer, he could feel some sort of energy radiating from the man. Just then, the energy started building up and Mr. Wayne started to go transparent. Panicking, Danny did the first thing he could think of and absorbed the mounting energy to himself. It felt like a shot of adrenaline except way, way stronger and for a moment everything blanked out, before the world came into focus again. When he looked around, he couldn't find a trace of Mr. Wayne, but from the energy left over he could tell exactly when he had landed. The Golden Age of Piracy.

"Goddamit!" Danny yelled as he once again felt Bruce Wayne slip through his grasp as he stole away the potent energy from the billionaire's body before it could follow wherever he was going next. First it had been pirates, then the Wild West and lastly it was 20th century Gotham, clearly the natural portal had been all kinds of fucked up for Mr. Wayne to have been dragged from time period to time period. It was a miracle he was even still alive, the poor man! Danny let out a harsh sigh as he parsed out through the information the energy had left him with. This time he'd gotten the information for the two next time-jumps, which meant, Danny could get ahead of this for once and finally catch Mr. Wayne before he could jump again.

With a steadying intake of breath, Danny took out the Infiniv-map and set his destination before he let himself follow through. As he got through he could hear a bunch of different voices, all talking over each other.

"-distortions mean what I think it-"

"-not fair!"

"-time is breaking-"

"-only leave his body once he's dead."

Danny paid no mind as he locked eyes on Mr. Wayne who was lying in Wonder Woman's arms, in a black bodysuit, looking worse for the wear. The same energy as before was emanating from him, though this time it was even stronger. Danny approached carefully, invisible before he put a hand onto Mr. Wayne's chest and concentrated on drawing all the energy into himself. It wasn't like the other times, the flow was faster and he was having trouble staying focused as more and more flew into him. His brows scrunched in concentration, and unbeknownst to him, the invisibility dropped.

All the heroes in the room turned to look at the suddenly appearing white-haired teen who had a hand on Batman's chest. As they stared in confusion, the teen started to glow. It grew brighter and brighter before everyone had to shield their eyes as there was a pulse of bright light that died down almost immediately after. Wonder Woman had to blink the spots out of her vision as she felt the weight in her arms start to shift and let out a groan. "Bruce!"

She set him down and helped him put his head between his knees, as she gently stroked his back. Superman settled on his other side while Red Robin just sat in front of him, still half-believing Bruce was really back.

"What happened?" Bruce mumbled. "The omega radiation, I thought-"

"I'd like to know that too," Green Lantern said before he turned towards the glowy kid who was still blinking his eyes as if to chase away afterimages.

"His energy signature is the same as Darkseid," Raven said, her own eyes having not left the teenager since he had appeared.

"You don't mean..." started Superman as all the heroes turned to look at the kid slowly. The latter finally looked up as if sensing he was the focus of many eyes and cringed as he met the combined stares of the Justice League.

"Yes," Raven answered. "This is Darkseid's son."

[firendgold]

"dumbledore wants to control--" hush

Thinking about how irritating it is that people still believe that Albus Dumbledore (the person people should argue is maybe too lenient with letting every teenager in his school become Sherlock Holmes or Harry Houdini as it suits them) wants to control every single move any teenager makes under his roof or relationship they have, especially Harry.

Y'all. Albus does not care. He sure will prod you in one intellectual direction or the other, help you along toward whatever conclusion he's already drawn about goings-on, but this man is not gnashing his teeth or doing disapproving frowns over his glasses because one of his students keeps their guardian informed of Hogwarts happenings or wants to visit their vault in the middle of the year for some reason or what-the-fuck-ever.

Equally irritating, the fanon idea that Albus wants Harry to only live the life the headmaster plans or wishes (and that's IF they clear the hurdle of even realizing Albus wanted Harry to live at all).

"oh, Dumbledore doesn't want Harry to have power!" HE DOESN'T??? the same guy who said that Harry was a better man than him and a worthy master of the Hallows?

"Dumbledore only wants Harry to do X/be a sacrificial lamb!" He did not want Harry to die. He had no other choice thanks to the actions consistently taken by y'all's problematic fave, Voldemort. It's only a twist of irony that Voldemort also unintentionally rescued Harry as well. If Dumbledore had taken some of the actions y'all wanted him to by pretending he had the power to override an age-old Goblet that Barty used to put Harry in the tournament, then Harry would have perma-died at any point where an otherwise-resurrected Voldemort got his hands on him.

And Albus never expresses any desire for Harry to do or be anything besides what he is. Harry decides he wants to be an Auror because a Death Eater in disguise told him he'd be good at it. He never challenges this career path even when he honestly should.

Albus' actual wishes for Harry's future boil down to this:

is he alive?

is he safe?

is he happy?

If these conditions are filled, the real Albus Dumbledore is ecstatic.

So no, there's no universe where Albus is trying to block Harry from meeting with Ministry officials (unless they're losers like Rufus Scrimgeour, who was actively more interested in arresting randoms and getting photo shoots with the teenager he should have been PROTECTING from Voldemort, not holding in front of himself like a human shield).

The real Albus does not even lift an eyebrow at your fanon Harrys deciding they must meet with The Heads of Prominent Magical Families who previously didn't give a single shit about them. (And fandom, why is this dumb idea STILL A THING two decades later?? Who gives a shit what the dude whose name you found on Pottermore and whose personality you made up has been doing during the Voldemort years, when it was likely just sitting around with a thumb up his ass twittering about Family Honor while fascist terrorists were murdering people across the country?)

Albus likes Harry more than anyone else. He wants Harry to live a fulfilling life. If Harry became Minister for Magic, Albus would be thrilled. It would give him an excuse to actually visit the Ministry more often.

If Albus could be said to have an endgame or desire for Harry's career at all, it would be making Harry a professor at Hogwarts. Did you see how much he teared up when he found out the resistance was named after him? Or how he spent the whole next year giving Harry 'lessons' he had to know were being passed right to Ron and Hermione? Albus' passion is teaching; it's the one thing he feels he hasn't completely screwed up or corrupted. He'd die happy if Harry became the Defense professor and they could share meals and classroom anecdotes every day.

[hg-aneh]

Hi! I absolutely love all of your art and I’ve been fallowing you for awhile! There’s been some rumors that you ship Muriel x crowley?? Which I guess is an odd paring but nothing terrible wrong with, I was just curious if you do ship them.

Thank you for all your wonderful art <3

okay, i want to preface this by saying that I've already been harassed over this to the point of being called a lowkey pedophile and having every little move of mine scrutinized and misconstrued to sickening extents (this harassment spilled over to my partner too, and it was horrible)

so all anyone would do by doing this again would be repeating history, among other things that have to do with fucking up my already frail mental state

now.

onto the meat

yes, I ship it

no, I do not see Muriel as a child, kid, teenager, or anything of the sort and I find it personally distasteful to think of doing so because infantilizing autistic traits rubs me the wrong way (p e r s o n a l l y)

you can do it if you want to, I have worse things to worry about than a random person on the internet thinking something of a fictional character, just don't try to push your headcanon onto me just because you perceive it that way or because it's a popular dynamic that you find fun

adding onto this, i want to add that i will never and i mean fucking NEVER post anything related to that ship outside of the very specific private Xitter account i created for it

(and my personal facebook, on a friends only setting)

any Muriel & Crowley content outside of that account is all platonic and bla bla you get the gist. I can separate things, what a talent.

Now, I'm being overly paranoid and explaining myself to exhaustion over this for a very good reason and it's because last time someone found out about it ((yes we're going full circle to the beginning of this little bible)) they treated it as some sort of GOTCHA moment about me being a pedo ((and if you didn't know this already: I fucking despise children with my whole being, I'd rather be forcefed alligator shit for my whole life than be with one of those creatures for a single day))

It got to the point of that person making extremely hurtful videos about me and their little friend group comprised of goober eating toddlers joining in on the "Hater" train or whatever the hell that new cultural trend is called, as well

It was hell, that whole experience fucked me up BAD and i feel silly for saying this but it was genuinely traumatic! So- I apologize if I'm sounding confrontational here, anon, but like, this is the type of thing you have to do to keep yourself safe now, it's gone to that point and I'm in hysterics now because what the fuck

Lastly, I'd like to say this one other thing

Muriel is played by an adult actress, they are canonically the same age as Aziraphale and Crowley and are also an eldritch creature just like them

The fact that they're nice and bubbly and happen to have autistic traits doesn't suddenly make them a fetus. I have friends with the same personality type as them and I feel like it'd be dumb to treat them like zygotes knowing they're adults with body hair and debt

Again, if you see them as one, I'm literally no one to judge, I'm 1.49, you're better off taking judgement from a stupid lone penguin in the saharan desert.

But don't fuck with others for thinking otherwise, it's not a moral issue to disagree with a headcanon, please. 🥲

[arceus-insanity]

With the Series Ending

I decided to do this solely based on canon, except for F which are so bad that they transcend the rule. I also put this in the lens of do I enjoy watching them, or do they infuriate me. Most of the ones in G are there because I can't tell who they are from the picture, or are so minor I don't get why they were on the list to begin with

Hawks was the hardest to place because as I've mentioned before I love villain fanon Hawks, and hate Canon for all the missed potential and the guy being shit.

Before the last arc, Deku would have been in C, and I felt most criticisms of him were undeserved. I still feel a lot of them are dumb, however, he's canonically a hypocritical, suck-up to labels, abuse apologist, idiot, etc. As much as it feels like character assassination it's canon, same with Shoji. I also just don't care to read fanfiction of him, and feel he takes a lot of roles where other characters would make more sense. If I'm not already following someone I'm not going to read fanfiction with him in it

Most of E I hate as much if not more than F but the fandom either doesn't write about, or treat them like the pieces of crap they are, looking at Mineta of course.

Fun fact Edgeshot is in E for bringing Bakugo back, and causing me both meta and dramatic issues for me. What the fuck was the point of killing Bakugo to immediately bring him back. How the fuck did Edgeshot know he could do this? How the fuck did he know how to do this? Why the fuck is he doing this for some random teenager he has never interacted with before, in the middle of a war? And now why the fuck does this fucker get to live, no one gave a single fuck about Edgeshot but he gets to live!

Centipeder would have been in E if not for the fact I know what my ringtone for him would be, Red Flags by Tom Cardy

Uraraka owes her rank in B for her arc with Toga, otherwise, she would have been in D. For the plot forgoing her original motivations so they could turn her into a generic love interest. Toga tried talking crushes with her 'twice' everything else regarding that shit, which started before they ever met, is on her

I actually love Endeavor fanfics as most of them either a treat his abuse for what it is, or b I view them as an own on canon Endeavor and his incredible laziness and selfishness. But Twitter exists and they flock to him and his bullshit so to F with him.

Speaking of Fs, Bakugo is a whiney spoiled rotten brat with a silver spoon shoved into his mouth since birth. I hope he never breeds. Damn near every shit thing that has happened to him, was either brought on by himself, literally applied to everyone, he literally doesn't care, and even with the two exceptions I'd give this, the Sludge guy, and being chained up at the sports fest (he should have been disqualified), do not justify his shit

Congrats to Dark Shadow and Tokoyami for being the only hero (student) to make it past B

Needless to say I love villains, Dabi is by far my favourite, followed by Himiko, they are way more engaging and convincing than the heroes. And by convincing I mean it actually feels like they are going to put in effort to make their goals happen, not just wish really hard. I truly wish we could have seen how Shigaraki's goals shifted during his reign over the PLF. We had already seen how he wanted the League to be happy and an exception to his goal of destruction

[dufferpuffer]

honestly I don't even blame the intense Marauders fans for making the boys barely seem like friends.

How many lines are there (that wasn't said to each other) where teenage Sirius and James were not being absolute pricks...? They're such insensitive assholes. In their heads it really was James & Sirius and then everyone else in the world. Remus and Peter are included but constantly disrespected.

And like of course they were friends, and had each others backs - but there's a power dynamic in that friend group, and its James and Sirius are kings and Remus and Peter are useful for entertainment. Toxic lil teenagers. Dumb asshole kids.

But that's exactly the point, right? Every time we see a memory of the past, its to show the opposite of what Harry thinks: - James and Sirius were actually quite nasty - Remus wasn't a role model, - Peter was a bit of a victim, - Severus is honest - and straight up correct most of the time

I think the unfortunate thing in fanworks on this era is how they treat this dynamic as golden. As fine. They were the bestest and tightest of friends, the toxic shit was all stable and normal and good... and the only way to have that make sense is to twist who the characters are.

- James has to be a labrador who barely knows what he is saying. - Sirius has to be a drama queen to say insensitive things. - Remus has to be a grumpy badass to be so quietly defensive. - Peter... well they just ignore Peter. When he is there they have the others love-bomb him to make up for the abuse. - Severus has to be the worst otherwise the marauders look bad. But its more interesting that it wasn't like that! That the group fell apart! Remus separated after school, there was a rift between him and Sirius - Peter was such a fourth wheel he wasn't loyal at all - Sirius was almost TOO loyal and reliant on James, too dedicated - and while James loved Lily he was still irresponsible and selfish.

IDK its 4am and I'm rambling. I guess seeing so much stuff of pallid, pale, sickly Remus as a butch tanned teen scowling at people... it gets to you at 4am. I think, if you wanted a more assertive Remus to have hot sex with Sirius (if teenage sex can ever be hot...?) leaning into their characters would be cooler. That's my 2 cents.

“I’m bored,” said Sirius. “Wish it was full moon.” “You might,” said Lupin darkly from behind his book.

There's fire in that. There's dissatisfaction and annoyance and bite - alongside Remus' general meekness. There's disregard from Sirius. Idk. Feels like that's a cool angle to work with.

[inmyheaddd]

your lips my lips, apocalypse - jameson hawthorne x reader

wc: 2.3k warnings: kissing, friends to lovers, very fluffy masterlist

you were two young and dumb teenagers, finding solace in each other's company.

your relationship with jameson was a long one, stretching back years into early childhood.

you two never really talked before; you both assumed the other was like all the other people in your social circle. too rich to care, not a worry in the world, and about as deep as a kiddie pool. 

that all changed one night a year or two ago, at a fundraiser event your family and his were hosting together.

you hated things like this sometimes—the way your parents showed off as something to look at, a trophy, instead of someone to know.

after one too many introductions and sticking to your mom's side feeling like a lost child, you excused yourself, and maybe the tears that flooded your eyes wouldn’t have been so immediate if you didn’t see the relief that washed over your mothers face. 

you walked to the one place that was yours, tears threatening to spill with each step. it felt stupid, really. nothing particularly bad happened, so why did you feel bad? 

you finally reached the bottom of the stairs of the wine cellar, only to find a figure sitting on the last step. 

what?

the person's head turned immediately, hearing the clicks of your heels. 

even in the faint lighting, you recognized the boy. jameson hawthorne.

the troublemaker of the hawthorne grandsons, endless green eyes, and a charming smile that could kill. 

his eyebrows raised as he noticed you, holding a bottle of something in his hand. "what are you doing here?" he asked, his face otherwise expressionless.

your sadness made way for frustration. who did he think he was, sitting in your spot, asking you what you were doing?

“this is my house?” 

“okay. what are you doing here?” 

you scoffed, “i could ask you the same thing. all your brothers are upstairs, why aren’t you?” 

he turned to face away from you, taking another swig from what you now recognized to be a flask. “well i’m not my brothers, aren’t i?” 

you stayed silent. 

he must’ve realised how hurt he sounded, so he spoke again, “just needed a breather, that’s all.” 

maybe he wasn't as shallow as you thought.

you had so many questions, one of them being “how the hell did you even find this place?”. after a few beats of silence, you settled on a different one.

“well, mind if i join?”

he gestured to the spot next to him, “be my guest.” you tentatively took a step closer, smoothing out the bottom of your dress before sitting down on the step.

“aren’t you my guest? you’re in my house after all.” you fought the smile that found your face, then he turned to look at you, a similar grin on his face as well. 

“you’re not what i expected,” he said, tilting his head to the side, slightly narrowing his eyes. 

now it was your turn to turn away and look forward, shrugging your shoulders as you did so. “i try.” 

minutes turned to hours, and you found out that you and jameson were actually quite similar. 

as cliché as it sounded, you often felt older than you were. adults didn’t take you seriously, but kids your age around you didn’t get you. 

jameson did though, and he found himself actually being understood by anyone other than his brothers for once. you found comfort in eachother, and soon enough your bond was unbreakable.

you and jameson running off from events together became a common occurrence.

one particular time, the event was at his house. 

your cheeks began to hurt from all the fake smiles you’d been giving out. that was one of your key signs it was time to leave.

after a few minutes of mindless strolling around the hawthorne house, you settled on sitting by the pool.

you couldn’t swim right then, obviously, but it felt heavenly to take off your heels and dip your feet in the water.

god knows how long you were out here for. it was completely dark now, apart from the lit-up pool and windows from the house. 

you took your gaze up to the sky, leaning back on your arms to fully see the stars. 

when you looked back in front of you, you noticed jameson 50 feet or so away, walking towards you.

you look back at your lap, only letting your eyes find his once he sat beside you, rolling up his suit pants to dip his feet in the water. 

“hey, stranger,” he said to you, his grin starting to make an appearance.

“hey there yourself,” you responded back, slightly nudging your shoulder with his.

“what finds you here on this fateful night?” he eyed your high heels you placed on the floor then looked back to you.

you snorted, “you really want an answer to that?” 

“not really,” he grimaced, “i can assume it’s the same reason i’m here.” 

you looked back at your lap, "yeah, you’re probably right on that on that.” your fingers were mindlessly fidgeting with your skirt that ended just at your mid thigh. 

he noticed the sadness on your face; he couldn’t take it anymore.

he gasped dramatically.

“you’re also here as an underco-“

“—please don’t finish that sentence,” you said with a laugh. 

you always knew when he was going to make a stupid joke to make you feel better. or maybe it was the dramatic gasp, mixed with the mischievous glint in his eye, and his widened grin that you noticed all before he spoke, that gave it away.

but hey, he made you laugh. mission accomplished.

“sorry, cinderella, not in the mood for jokes?” 

he started calling you cinderella a while ago, because “you’re always mysteriously running off from parties early.” you asked if that would make him your prince charming, to which he shrugged and said, “i’ll be whatever you want me to be.”

you responded, “i’m in the mood to get the hell out of here, then maybe a few dumb jokes wouldn’t be so bad.” you tilted your head as you spoke, and you couldn’t help the smile that found your face when jameson's hand laid on top of yours, his thumb drawing small circles. 

“then we’ll get the hell out of here.” 

you looked down at your knees, noticing how yours and his were touching, but neither of you made an effort to move them apart. 

you also noticed the soft hum of the music coming from inside the house, the warmth coming from jameson's side, the dim lights, and how everything felt so still, your previous worries long gone. 

you wondered why you only felt this peace with jameson next to you. 

“actually i changed my mind, we don’t have to get the hell out of here. 5 more minutes?” 

you looked up at him expectantly, and you were pretty sure a smile was permanently etched on your face.

well, atleast that's how it was with jameson. 

“whatever you want. 5 more minutes it is.” he replied with a wink.

“actually, i wanna go.” 

“then let’s go.”

“i changed my mind, i wanna stay.”

he chuckled, “then we stay.” 

“are you seriously doing whatever i say?” 

“of course i am, why wouldn’t i?” he responded without missing a beat.

“you’re crazy.” a light giggle escaped your lips, and you leaned your head on his shoulder.

“only for you.” he responded half jokingly.

you weren’t too sure when you and jameson got like this: jokingly flirting, meaning nothing on the surface, bearing your soul and deepest secrets to each other, not seeing each other for days— weeks even, then meeting again feeling like no time has passed.

maybe soulmates were real.

or maybe, you were just two good friends. 

maybe, he was just a nice person to talk to. 

or maybe, you were falling for jameson. 

jameson's arm around your shoulder and the trail of his hand running up and down your arm brought you back to the present moment. 

with your eyes trained on your legs that were now pressed against his, you mumbled, “you know, i made progress today. i didn’t stick by my parents the whole time. i actually tried to make conversation with people.”

you took a deep breath in before continuing, exhaling as you spoke. “granted everyone was like 40, and i was deeply uncomfortable, i still made progress.” you couldn’t bite back the sarcastic undertone in your voice.

jameson seemed to find that funny, or maybe he just wanted to make you feel better, either way, you felt his chuckle vibrate through his chest. 

“hey, any progress is still progress. if it helps, i only did three things possibly detrimental to my mental and/or physical health this week instead of my usual 7.” he added casually.

you wish you could take away all of his hurt, to kiss him all over until he felt a little better. 

but friends don’t do that. 

you knew he hated feeling like he was broken. so instead of telling him every little thing you love about him and how he deserves better than how he’s treating himself, you just laughed along. 

“how motivating of you, thanks.”

“of course, cinderella.” 

you turned your palm upwards and intertwined your fingers with his.

you squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back. 

in his eyes, that was consolation enough. you never saw him any differently, even after everything he’s been through and everything he’s told you. you were quite possibly his favorite person. what did that mean? 

when you decided it was a good time to get going, jameson got up first, then put out a hand and helped you up. 

you dried off your feet, put your shoes back on, and he did the same.

“where do you wanna go?” he asked, briefly glancing down at you as you walked together. 

you hummed for a second before an idea sparked up in your mind. “why don’t we go to that one ice cream place?”

“is it open this late?”

“pretty sure it’s 24/7.”

“perfect.” he responded. 

then he had another question, “isn’t it a 30 minute walk?”

you smiled at him, “perfect.” you echoed.

he laughed at that. but honestly, he was as glad to be as far away from his house as possible. he wanted to spend as much time with you as he could.

your hand was brushing against his, and in an instant like he knew what you were thinking, he subtly grabbed your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours once again. 

30 minutes of breathless laughs, butterflies in your stomach, stupid jokes, and random questions later, you arrived.

you two got an oreo milkshake, instead of getting one each, you decided to share.

jameson got two straws and put them both on the cup at the same time. 

he angled one towards you, then you realised what he was trying to do.

“there’s no way,” you almost snorted.

“what?” he looked at you with a smile. 

“i’m not doing that, jameson.” you stated. but inside, you were screaming. you swore your stomach did 50 flips. 

“just this once?”

“no.”

“suit yourself,” he grinned at you, and then took a sip of the milkshake. 

you gave him a fake dirty look, which he returned, before you both starting laughing.

20 minutes later you two were in deep conversation, the milkshake long forgotten.

you two were talking about everything and nothing. from your moms, times you met but didn’t even realize it, childhood stories, debating if avocados or mangoes are better, to “if you could be a planet, which one would you be?”

that’s how it always was with jameson, there was never any pressure. talking to him was the easiest thing in the world.

the air conditioner was hitting your table directly, and you didn’t have a jacket.

jameson eyed you, cutting off his sentence. “are you cold?”

“no, i’m fine.” you wish your body didn’t choose right then to shiver. 

without hesitation, he got up from his seat and sat next to you in the booth.

jameson wanted to slap himself for leaving his jacket back at the house, but it gave him an excuse to wrap his arms around you. 

the laugh that left your lips when he did so made him feel like his heart was on fire, and his face too. 

you noticed the milkshake on the table, and noticed how jameson had barely even touched it. 

“you know, im kind of feeling that milkshake now.” you mumbled. 

“yeah?” he leaned forward and grabbed it with his free hand and handed it to you.

the two straws were still inside, and you angled your body so you were facing jameson. 

you tilted milkshake towards him, and then he started to take a sip. 

you leaned in to drink some as well from your straw, your foreheads were basically touching now.

then he smiled at you. 

god, his smile was dangerous. 

and it was damn near impossible not to smile back. 

you both finished the milkshake with slightly too much eye contact to only be friendly, and jameson took the cup from your hand, placing it back on the table without tearing his face away from yours. 

your gaze landed on his lips, which were slightly parted, then you looked back up at his eyes. 

his hand found its way to your jaw and he captivatingly held your gaze, asking a silent question.

you answered by leaning in, finally crossing that boundary of friends-or-something.

your arms wrapped around his neck, and your head tilted to the side.

he tasted sweet, the remnants of the milkshake still in his mouth.

every single nerve in your body heated up, you felt like you were burning, despite the freezing temperature. 

you pulled back with a smile, and he chased your lips. you let out a chuckle, and then your forehead was resting on his. 

the walk home was even better this time.your hand in his, talking about how stupid you both were to not see the obvious feelings you had for each other.

when it was time for you to go home, he kissed you once again. 

you officially discovered your new favorite activity.

[tommyssupercoolblog]

okay so let me check my notes umm... according to fakclaimers:

systems can only be kids because it only develops then, but also can only be adults over 20 or so because otherwise you're making it up for tiktok OR wouldn't possibly know yet, and you have to be diagnosed with DID/OSDD but you also have to be truamagenic or the diagnosis doesn't count even if it comes from a doctor, and if you're truamagenic but self diagnosed then you're lying or confused. if you're truamagenic AND diagnosed then you're a freak and dangerous to the public OR you have to live in secret or else you must be lying. you can't be plural on purpose through thoguhtform because then you're making yourself disabled and that's fetishizing but you also can't be plural against your will UNLESS you met the previous critera otherwise that wouldn't happen to you. and you can't call yourself a t-pla ever even though the controvery is around cultural appropriation and a stranger has no clue over the internet if you have the right to reclaim, which you VERY WELL MIGHT. but if you call yourself a thoughform you're cringe and too woke. if you're endogenic you can't call yourself a system but you also can't call yourself plural or a collective or anything else. If you're mixed-orgin you're just a confused truamagenic or a lying endogenic.

You also can't have introjects because that's cringe and cringe means you're lying but you also can't have original alters because then you're just roleplaying as OCs. as an introject you can't hate your source or be neutral because then why would you introject?? but you can't love them or else you're just a crazy fan pretending to be them. as an original alter you can't be TOO different from the original or that's just something out of a movie but you can't be alike because then you're not really an alter.

You can't have only nice alters who get along together because then you're faking and if you have alter conflict then you need to be locked up because you're probably a serial killer. and you have to only have split when you were little and can't split ever again even though that's something that happens all the time even past people's 20s, and you can't have any other disorder or you're just wrong about being plural, and you can't hate being plural because then you're attention seeking and clearly must be pretending to have a disorder for pity, and you can't love being plural because you're not allowed to love having a disorder or disability, and you can't be neutral about it because why the fuck wouldn't you have a big reaction to being so weird?? you're weird. so you must be lying about being weird because everyone else finds this shocking and disturbing or fascinating and surely so would you.

and you can't not date because then you're missing out (even if ur aro, ace, or aroace mostly) and you can't date because then you're abusing your partner and lying to them by being multiple people since you're clearly just one OR you're making them date strangers which is also bad, and you can't date another system because you can't know other systems personally or else you're all fakers, and you can't date in-headspace because that's too weird to be true. you can't all be striaght because that's unrealistic so you're faking but if your alters all have different sexualities that's a sure sign you're faking and just making up OCs and if you're all gay then you're ALSO faking and just trying to be Jefferson Miku Binder Woke and are a cringe SJW. You can't all be the same gender but you can't be different genders either and you can't have individual labels but if you id as genderfluid or pluralgender or something collective that's cringe and clearly a sign you're just a dumb lying teenager begging for attention.

you can't have a consistent host but also you can't have anyone other than the "original" front for too long. you can't be able to control switches but you also need to be able to "prove it" by switching in front of other people. you can't have different mannerisms or handwriting because that's overdone and dramatic and clearly just theatre and you can't have the same mannerisms or handwriting becase then you're clearly just lying. You can't think of yourself as one person because that's confusing, but you can't think of yourself as multiple people, because you share a body so CLEARLY you must be one singular person!!!!! If you use i/me pronouns you're faking and just forgetting to act plural as a plothole in ur lies and if you use we/us you're also faking and clearly only know about systems through tiktok. if you go by your infividual names you're being confusing and a hasstle and a bitch, but if you use a collective name or go by the og/host's name you're lying and a catfish abuser. if you get final fusion you're not plural anymore and don't get to talk about it. if you don't get final fusion you're a faker.

you can't literally be seperate because that makes no sense, you can't have more than one consciousness in one mind!! but you can't just be one person separated by memory walls with the EFFECT being "as if" you were actually seperate because then you're not really plural.

you can't act or dress normal because "we'd be able to tell" but you can't be visibly weird or plural because then you're fake, cringe, or both. you can't roleplay or cosplay because that means your plurality is cosplay too, but you can't avoid roleplaying and cosplaying because then you're crazy for identifying as another person than the og but not being able to dress up as a different person (and/or your source if ur an introject).

did i get it all?? no, probably, because there's way more rules and contradictions than even these, huh?? there's an infinite list of rules and ideas but really they're all just set dressing. all the conflicts just end up resulting in one, big rule. but they don't say the big rule because a long list like that, if it's spread out and not put in one post like this, doesn't look as mean. so it's easier to swallow it one bit at a time, to rule out one way of life after another, then to say it outright.

when every possible way to be is ruled out, you get the real rule, which is:

"If you're plural or a system, you can't exist."

there is no acceptable way to be plural. the only "correct" way to be plural is to be erased entirely.

[crimeboys]

It wasnt mourninglamby :( but honestly mourninglamby doesnt know what they’re talking about so if they have the same opinions it doesnt even matter what they think tbh……. I just wish I was better at showing them evidence you know? I keep talking about the yes very selfish love cwilbur has for ctommy was still love for ctommy and there aint no way the mental turmoil cdream caused ctommy is worse than cwilbur being mentally ill and a bad role model… they called cwilbur a groomer ffs???? I wish I could tell them that’s wrong without losing again due to my lack of evidence because they can just shut it down by calling my interpretations of crimeboys fanon……. I’m honestly just rambling sorry cyrus

my bad that may have been my own personal demons... although it does make me desolate to know more people share this take. but im not exactly unfamiliar with media illiteracy in this fandom.

but tbh it's like fine you dont have to debate people online about their interpretations of characters i personally love to block and stew (and occasionally lose my cool or swagever) and write private metas bc well im not a super articulate person so i hate posting them online. but yeah listen if you see people making dumbass takes that are wildly insane such as c!wilbur groomed tommy, you never have to like. debate that person bc frankly they've gone to a level of reading into shit that you are probably not going to be able to unravel. write your own meta or complain to your friends. i personally do the second one bc i hate writing. but i can attempt a little bit.

cwilbur is a complicated man who a lot of people like to make simple, be that in a negative or positive way. there are far extremes of both interpretations of the character and they both drive me insane. he is a character who requires a lot of criticism and a lot of compassion, otherwise he gets lost in the extremes of "terrorist monster who wants to hurt everyone" or "big brother who wuvs his little brother and would never do anything to hurt him".

cdream is also a complex character but he has a simple goal. power. whether that power come from land or disc or a teenager all on his own, his goal is to be on top. things take an obvious shift from just being obsessed with power to being obsessed with having power over tommy, which dream has always had to some degree but that's bc he fixated on tommy's "troublemaking" ruining the server in the beginning. exile is where he began to just Enjoy fucking with tommy and lets himself want power over tommy for the sake of having power over tommy, nothing to do with control of the server.

both of them meant to hurt tommy. i dont disagree with the notion that wilbur was abusive toward tommy. i just think there is a very clear difference in the way wilbur treated him vs. the way dream treated him. specifically i think situationally, it is very clear that wilbur was in a godawful place when he started treating tommy and everyone else terribly. i think the notion that his abuse started before pogtopia is bullshit and an incredibly dumb read of the characters. wilbur was not secretly fucking evil during l'manburg. he was an asshole often because wilbur's an asshole (but so is tommy, which people who dont actually like his character but adore the fanon version of it like to ignore), but he didn't create l'manburg just to destroy it. he didn't created l'manburg just to hurt tommy and everyone he loves. he made a home for them and when that home was taken, he had a really fucking bad reaction to it.

there is no question that wilbur during this time period hurt the people he loves. but i also think acting like every single thing he did during this period of time was malicious is fucking strange. there is a very clear, obvious fucking steady decline from the moment eret betrays them in the final control room, to wilbur and tommy being exiled from the home they built together for each other, to wilbur and tommy trying to get their nation back, to wilbur watching schlatt onstage and realizing (thinking) he never can in a way that matters, to wilbur becoming a shaken up bottle of paranoia set to explode the second someone opens it. even the fucking pit, which was shitty and gross and makes me yell at the screen every time i watch it, had a cause and effect. wilbur who genuinely thinks technoblade is on their side and trusts not to kill tubbo, to running back to pogtopia and indignant about techno trying to come back, to realizing this reinforces his paranoia and that he was right all along isn't that amazing tommy he was right they can't trust anyone, to putting tommy and techno in the pit.

this isn't the most indepth bc well like i said i don't write meta. but i think my point is clear that overall, there is a very clear difference between isolating and hurting someone literally for fucking fun vs. being isolated by the country you built and having a paranoid episode that your brother is in the front lines for that irrevocably changes both of you.

i think not liking cwilbur is fair enough, he has done undeniably shit things and hurt a lot of people without really making up for it, but i think refusing to engage with his character outside of the surface level is incredibly annoying, especially when you refuse to do that but include your own personal hcs and pretend they're honest interpretations of what you actually watched instead of separate characters you invented in your head.

dsmp might be a mess and people might think they "did more heavy lifting than the creators" but at the end of the day, they gave us very clear groundwork and tons of content and i don't think any of the lifting we have done is actually all that revolutionary to the characters outside of like. fanart. usually the people who do aren't writing the characters anymore. or maybe it's their first fandom and they don't realize it's very normal to have a bunch of hcs and character reworkings. but that's a little off topic.

anyway i could ramble about all this forever so i'm gonna go before i'm too mean and late to work byeee.

[inkedobsidian]

~Interview Process~

summary: Y/N helps her current boss find his replacement through a trick, and it goes exactly to plan

pairing: CEO!WonwooxPA!Reader

warnings: mentions of businessmen being assholes, fluffy otherwise

word count: 2,592

a/n: This is my first post for a SVT member so it had to be Wonwoo. The CEO's name and his wife's name are all fictional I just thought of them on the spot. Also since I just finished Business Proposal I thought the world could use a little more CEO!Wonwoo. Requests are open and I have a prompt list too if you want any ideas! @celestialpearls

Master-list - Prompts

The day Kim Seung-Woo, the CEO of a popular tech company and also your direct boss announced his retirement the tech world was shocked. Seung-Woo was barely in his late 30’s but the net worth he’d created had allowed him enough freedom to retire as soon as his wife was about to give birth to their first child. You had been his receptionist/assistant in the first few years of the company but as the company grew your responsibilities became more focused on being a personal assistant to Kim Seung-Woo. This had given you a close bond with him and his wife Hwang Sun Hee, you’d started working there at 17 and here you were nearly a decade later at 25.

This meant that you were treated a lot more personally than every other employee but that also meant you were pulled into Kim Seung-Woo’s ‘antics’ a lot. Considering he had built the company from a garage to a multi-billion won company it was also commented on how ‘normal’ he remained. Kim Sun Hee was the same woman he started dating as a teenager, being through broke times together they always kept each other in the mind set to not take anything they had for granted. This made Seung-Woo dead set on not letting someone run his company who would only respect the top players and not everyone in the company.

“I don’t understand what me dressing up as a janitor is going to do to help, surely how they treat me as your assistant will be enough?” You spoke candidly to Seung-Woo and Sun Hee as they sat across from you at the coffee table. Sun Hee laughed as she knew Seung-Woo had thought of a new ‘test’ for the candidates to replace him.

“See dumb people would disrespect you not thinking you had any influence, but smart and crafty people will be fake kind and then mistreat you once I leave. Only a special and deserving kind of person will be nice to even the lowest person in the building aka. the cleaner.” Seung-Woo spoke so informally and calmly that you almost wanted to burst into laughter at how confident he was in himself and his idea. Sun Hee just patted his hand in an ‘of-course’ dear kind of way that made you look at them both with such adoration, they genuinely have become extended family to you over these years.

So the next day you were here waiting for Seokmin to arrive as he was covering for you for the few hours of interviews. Why Seung-Woo picked the most un-serious person for an entire day of essentially tricking people was beyond you, Seokmin could barely hold in his laughter at the idea.

“All of the calls are just being sent to the phone in the other office for the time period for me to answer all you have to do is do your normal job from my desk, then call me 10 minutes for a candidate is due for me to come out then call Seung-Woo when candidates are here. I know need to go change…” You gave Seokmin a pat on his back as you slowly walked away, you could already hear his laugh as you walked to the staff room on your.

“It’s fine, it’s only 5 hours and they promised BBQ…” You whispered to yourself. You weren’t completely against wearing comfy clothes for 5 hours of your shift but the whole premise did seem rather strange. However, it proved to work perfectly.

Your entire role was to do your job from the empty COO office, then when a candidate was due you were supposed to ‘clean’ around the waiting room and ask the candidate to move politely so you could clean where they are to gauge their reaction. You had to admit 3 hours in it was working amazingly. Every single candidate that had walked in had been amazingly polite to Seokmin, then more than 50% were rude to you just for even being in the room while they were “trying to focus”. Every single time it happened Seokmin would write a red circle next to their name.

You couldn’t lie after 3 1/2 hours of this you were tired and you were also tired of being randomly shouted at by men in suits that you couldn’t help but laugh at internally. If only they knew that the hiring decisions were based almost entirely on their interaction with you. You’d almost zoned out when the phone rang again and it was Seokmin.

“You got 10 minutes until the next one if you wanna head down.” He had the same tone in his voice that he was smiling as he spoke and it made you feel a little better that at least someone you got along with was in the same space. You began to plug your headphones back in and made your way out of the office pushing the cleaning cart. As you were about to turn the corner you felt a small tap on your shoulder. As you unplugged your headphones you saw a man almost the same age as you staring back at you with an awkward lopsided smile. He immediately introduced himself and bowed which shocked you, that didn’t even happen when you were dressed normally by a lot of people.

“I'm sorry to interrupt you are probably very busy but do you know the way to Kim Seung-Woo’s office? I’m here for an interview.” His voice was deep and smooth and for a second you forgot yourself how to get there. His tall and wide frame made him look imposing especially the full black suit and slicked-back hair but his politeness made the energy around him feel calm.

“I’m actually heading that way now if you’d like to follow me!” You were just finally glad you weren’t dealing with snide or sometimes pure rude comments. You walked around the few corners in comfortable silence and when you reached the doors that had “Kim Seung-Woo’s Office” etched into the plate the candidate actually jogged ahead to grab the door for the cart. He stood to the side as you pushed the cart through and you gave a curt bow of the head as you walked past. You decided to just go to the opposite side of the room and let him speak to Seokmin then sit down.

“Jeon Wonwoo here for an interview at 4 pm.” He spoke in the same soft and calm voice to Seokmin who just beamed back positivity and offered him a drink before telling him to take a seat. This was your cue, Seokmin would leave the room and you would ask them to move. Just in case anyone held their tongue around Seokmin, you didn’t expect anything from this candidate so you weren’t as nervous.

Seokmin waited 2 minutes for him to sit down before he left to make whatever drink he’d asked for. This was your cue, you tried to nonchalantly walk up to him but as he noticed you approach he stood up already and moved to the side. This shocked you as most people weren’t aware you were even there until you spoke to them.

“Ah, I’m sorry I’ll be very quick and you can take a seat.” You smiled politely and very quickly swept underneath the chair as he stood there holding both hands behind his back, just waiting. As you stood up again to move back you gave another bow for a brief apology.

“Nonsense you have a job to do I understand.” He spoke as he gave you the same bow in return and took the same seat again. Now you understood Seung-woo's point, you couldn’t tell him that though it would give him far too much ego as Sun Hee would say.

Finally, Seokmin returned, gave Mr. Jeon his drink, and went into the interview room for the second part of his interview. He was the only candidate that day to leave with a green tick against his name, which was good enough for Seung-Woo but you didn’t hear anything else about the process after that day. You just feared having to do that for a whole day again.

A whole month later you were finally at that BBQ that was offered for your fun day of dress-up. It was at the same BBQ place you had joined the Kims for dinner once a month every month since you joined the company. It was a small family-owned restaurant in the same area where Seung-Woo and Sun Hee used to have their first house, you guys had never moved to a different restaurant this place was too loved. You always dressed and spoke casually here that was just how the 3 of you worked. However, this time the table was for 4.

You were waiting at the front of the restaurant for the couple to arrive when someone tapped you on the shoulder again. As you turned you saw Mr. Jeon again, he was giving the same smile but this time his hair wasn’t slicked back and he was in a much more casual outfit, he was also wearing glasses this time. He must have worn contacts for the interview, you didn’t know why though the glasses looked great.

“Excuse me, have we met before?” He asked almost unsure of himself. It had been a month since so his voice was almost certain but he also didn’t know your name to be certain. Just as you were about to speak you heard Kim Seung-Woo’s voice to your right.

“Ah yes this is Y/N L/N, she’s my assistant. You however met her in her lovely janitor outfit, which will be explained I promise but let’s sit down first.” He said pulling you into a side hug and then Sun Hee embraced you as well. Wonwoo was confused, he couldn’t deny that, it was rare for a CEO to treat people with this much kindness. It was a nice change for him.

As you all took your seats are your regular table the entire situation was explained to Wonwoo who you could tell was holding in laughter at certain points of the story, especially every time you interrupted Seung-Woo with a small anecdote about something someone said to you. It was nice to see the relationship you had built over the years. Wonwoo was still unsure why he was invited considering he hadn’t been offered the job or even contacted about it.

“Before we get to the enjoyed part of this evening, I wanted to talk about the topic at hand.” Seung-Woo all of a sudden became very serious, it was almost like the music in the restaurant lowered itself so he could be heard. “Mr Jeon, May I call you Wonwoo?”

“Of course, sir.” He replied quickly, it was honestly a massive honor.

“Wonwoo, I would like to offer you this jo-my job. However, this job offer is conditional,” You had no idea what the conditions were, it was never something discussed but then again you didn’t discuss everything, “The obvious one is the shares of the company I keep which we already discussed in the interview if you’re comfortable with them and we already spoke that they could be discussed should you have children of your own.”

Wonwoo nodded along as he spoke, the conditions were more than generous considering the job Wonwoo would be taking, it was almost too good to be true.

“Now this is the most un-conditional one and it will actually be drafted into the contract. Y/N L/N’s job is secure. She will always serve the CEO as the assistant and her salary will never drop from where it is, it will only ever be increased should her job increase,” Now this took you by surprise. You knew the Kim’s treated you like family over this past decade but this really put the icing on the cake of it all, the emotions almost overwhelmed you and then you felt Sun Hee reach for your hand, “She’s worked for us since the beginning and frankly she was the person that made us realize we wanted to raise a child, and I want to protect her as I leave.”

This entire gesture made Wonwoo smile in a way he couldn’t describe, the spot he was taking was big shoes to fill and he knew that but the idea that the person in charge cared about people so heavily warmed his heart. Wonwoo had absolutely no protests to keeping Y/N around but why would he, if Seung-Woo had nothing but good things to say about her then she would be a brilliant help to Wonwoo as he got settled.

“Okay now before I cry can we finally..” Y/N said as she held up her glass of soju and looked down at the grilling meat. Seung-Woo laughed at this as it was very typical and he grabbed his own glass, and then everyone followed suit. It immediately all became a celebration for Wonwoo and his new position and the drinks flowed in accordance. Maybe since it was Monday the next day you think everyone would have drank significantly less…

However here you were at 8:50 in the elevator going up to your floor, today the diary was all clear just to get Wonwoo used to the floor and his space then Seung-Woo would be here for the next month the do a full cross-train of every floor and section they have before he finally retires 3 months before Kim JR. is born. The walk to the office was easy and surprisingly the door to Wonwoo’s office was already open so he must have found his way this time.

“Good morning, Mr. Jeon. I just got you a regular coffee for this morning but if you let me know what you prefer then I can grab it for you tomorrow.” You say giving a curt bow. He returned the action immediately.

“Please Ms. L/N call me Wonwoo. I know you called Mr. Kim by his name I’d like to keep it casual and comfortable like before.” He said smiling at you, he also wore his glasses today instead of contacts. Maybe it was because of the off-handed, maybe tipsy comment you made about the glasses suiting his face whatever you meant by that.

“Well then, Wonwoo. Feel free to call me Y/N. You have a really easy time this morning before the parade of media in the afternoon. All your log-ins are in the diary you just need to get logged onto everything this morning and just settle in. If you want you can check your calendar to see what’s set and just give me a call when you need me.” You smiled back, you knew the vibe would be different from Seung-Woo but you’re hopeful for the future.

“Thank you, Y/N. I look forward to working with you.” His face almost transformed when he smiled, he was usually so stern looking but the moment he smiled it was like everything softened. Seung-Woo had made the perfect choice to continue his legacy with smarts and kindness at even levels.

“I look forward to working with you too Wonwoo.” You said as you closed the door and took a seat at your desk again. Wonwoo looked down at the cup you placed on his desk that had “Happy 1st day!!” scribbled onto the cardboard cup and he couldn’t help but smile again as he took a photo of it to save in his phone.

[applepiewinchesters]

A Moment of Peace (Joel Miller x Fem!Reader)

Word Count: 2.5K+

Tags: Mentions of character deaths, angst, comfort, crotchety old man Joel 

REQUESTS ARE OPEN: I’d be happy to write for other Pedro characters as well such as Javi and Whiskey! :)

Joel hadn’t felt peace in his life since the night his daughter died in his arms. It hardened the softness in his heart, turned him into the man everyone feared, if they knew what was good for them anyway. Now he was all gritted teeth and seemingly permanent frown lines. Surviving was what mattered. He did his jobs and otherwise kept his head down.

But then you showed up, taking on two armed guards at the perimeter to get into the safety of the quarantine zone and eventually being granted asylum, and you seemed to make it your mission to annoy the older man.

You met Joel doing odd jobs around the area for ration cards, like everyone else. You annoyed him to no end, asking him a new dumb, at least in his opinion dumb, question every day. Most of the time the daily question would go unanswered. All you ever really got was a grunt in return.

But then Tess, for a reason Joel could not understand, began entertaining your questions, maybe the same thing every day was finally getting to her. She told you her favorite color, song, food, movie. You had been young when the outbreak started, younger than Joel and Tess, at least. You loved to hear stories of what everything had been like before.

You only had flashes of a life you had before. A house, a school, a woman you assumed was your mother. None of the women in the group you’d been in for the last 12 years was her though, so you could only assume she had died in the initial chaos.

Then Tess invited you along on one of her and Joel’s smuggling missions, much to Joel’s dismay, Tess reasoned the two could use a fresh set of eyes. But in the end, you ended up being quite good with a gun, even saving Joel’s ass from a couple lone clickers.

A begrudging “Thanks," had been sent your way as Joel stepped over one of the bodies, brushing past you. You’d beamed at him when he did so, and for some reason, his face had flushed, something Tess spotted and teased him about in his apartment the next day.

“You’re sweet on her,” Tess had said over her glass of bourbon.

Joel only glared at his partner, “Am not,” he grumbled.

“Whatever you say, Texas,” Tess had said, only making Joel’s frown deepen.

Maybe he liked you, maybe he didn’t, it wasn’t like there was much room in this world for love anyway.

As the years went by Joel’s annoyance with you changed to an odd fondness, at least odd to him anyway. He found himself glaring at the men in the quarantine zone who flirted with you, when they’d catch him glaring, they’d almost always end the conversation and quickly disappear.

When you would look behind you to see what had spooked them, Joel would always be in your line of sight, pretending to be busy with something else. You’d even once caught him pretending to check the time on his long-broken watch before walking away in the direction of a dead-end street.

You confronted Joel that night at his apartment, demanding to know why he thought he could act like your father scaring away any man other than himself from being within five feet of you. For the first time since knowing Joel, you watched him scramble for the right words. The usually stoic and hardened man was stuttering like a teenage boy.

When you stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on his arm to get him to calm down, you watched his face grow red, and it clicked. Much to Joel’s dismay, you began giggling. Of course, an old man like him had no chance with you. His face only grew hotter, and his fists clenched at his sides.

But then you’d leaned up and placed a kiss on Joel’s cheek, his beard slightly scratchy against your lips. That was all he needed to turn his head and press his lips to yours, hands unclenching and moving to your waist.

You woke in his bed the next morning, Joel’s arms wrapped tightly around you, holding you to his chest. Tess just so happened to see you leave his apartment that morning, practically kidnapping you from your assigned job of the day to learn all the details.

Now, two years later Tess was gone and you and Joel had been tasked with possibly the most important smuggling job of your lives.

It turns out the Fireflies had been keeping a rather important young girl under their wing, Ellie. She was immune to the fungus causing the outbreak, something Joel was wary of, making the girl show him the bite on her arm practically every hour to make sure it hadn’t worsened. The original goal had been to get Ellie to an extraction team at the capitol in Boston, which only ended in finding the whole group dead, and losing Tess.

Joel decided the next best thing would be to find his brother Tommy in Wyoming. You suggested going to Bill and Frank, who could possibly help with getting a car. So, you, Joel, and Ellie began the ten-mile trek to Lincoln.

Ellie was quiet most of the trip. You could tell she at least half blamed herself for what had happened to Tess the day before. Tess had sacrificed her last moments so that you three could get away, she believed that Ellie could be the answer to fixing the fucked up world you were all living in.

You’d had to practically force Ellie from the building as she struggled against you and screamed that you couldn’t leave Tess behind. But the other woman was already dead, the second she’d been infected.

Ellie trailed behind you and Joel, watching as you interlaced your fingers with his. A gagging sound behind the two of you made you turn, Ellie making a grossed out face at the two of you.

“Are you guys dating?” she asked, scrunching her nose.

You laughed as Joel dropped your hand, a bit embarrassed, “Yes, technically.”

“Technically?” Joel asked, looking over at you, slightly offended.

“Oh, you know what I mean,” you laughed, playfully pushing the man slightly.

“Isn’t he like seventy?” Ellie asked, obviously still grossed out.

That made you laugh again, harder this time, as Joel grumbled something about “abandoning that kid in the woods.”

“55” you corrected Ellie, turning back around to face Ellie, apparently that answer didn’t curb her reaction as her face held the same expression from before.

You shook your head, smiling and turning back around, grabbing Joel’s hand once again, leaning your head on his shoulder for a moment while you walked. Joel squeezed your hand in return, not a huge fan of public displays of affection, but returning it nonetheless.

The three of you arrived at Bill and Frank’s around midafternoon. The sun still shone but was dipping below the trees, casting pretty shadows on the ground. Ellie looked around in wonder as Joel put in the code for the military grade gate surrounding the small town.

You hoped Bill was in the mood for company, he’d gotten crankier since Frank’s illness had gotten worse, but who could blame him. Those two had a love story most only dreamed about, you could only hope you and Joel could have a little slice of heaven like this one day.  

You and Ellie followed Joel to the house. It was oddly quiet, usually you could hear music playing, or even the older couple bickering playfully.

Joel knocked on the door, “Bill?” he called.

Your eyebrows knit together at the lack of response, you reached around Joel, trying the doorknob, surprised to find it unlocked. Bill was too paranoid, rightfully so, he always kept it locked even when he was home.

Joel moved you behind him, drawing his gun from the holster at his side, opening the front door all the way and calling Bill’s name again. Joel walked inside, you and Ellie following closely behind.

“Holy shit,” Ellie marveled at the home, it was probably the nicest place she’d ever been in, even if it was just some cranky old man’s house.

“I’ll check upstairs,” you said, drawing your own gun as you walked up the stairs.

Joel told Ellie to stay by the door while he searched the main floor of the home. You found nothing but empty rooms upstairs, so you headed back down. When you rounded the corner to the dining room, you found Ellie holding an envelope.

“It was in the table,” Ellie explained. When she handed you the envelope you could see “To Whomever (Probably Joel)” written on the front.

“Joel!” you called, tearing open the envelope and opening up the letter the was inside.

Joel appeared in the doorway, “What is it?” he asked you, and you began to read.

August 29th, 2023

If you find this, please do not come into the bedroom. We left the window open so the house wouldn’t smell, but it will probably be a sight.

Your throat tightened, but you continued.

I’m guessing you found this Joel, because anyone else would’ve been electrocuted or blown up by one of my traps. Hehehehehehe. Take anything you need. The code to the bunker is the same as the gate code but in reverse. Anyway…I never liked you, but still, it’s like were friends…almost. And I respect you. So, I’m gonna tell you something because you’re probably the only person who will understand. I used to hate the world, and I was happy when everyone died. But I was wrong, because there was one person worth saving. That’s what I did. I saved him. Then I protected him. That’s why men like you and me are here. And God help any motherfuckers who stand in our way. I leave you all my weapons and equipment. Use them to keep Y/N and T…

You stopped, choking on Tess’s name. Joel grabbed the letter from you, reading the rest to himself. He turned suddenly, pulling open the front door and leaving, slamming the door shut behind him.

“Stay here,” you told Ellie, sliding off your backpack and following Joel out the door.

He hadn’t gone far, he was standing on the front lawn, breathing heavy.

“Hey,” you spoke softly, approaching Joel and touching his arm gently.

When the man turned to you, you could see his eyes were glistening.

“I…” Joel choked out, “I can’t.”

“I know,” you told him, wrapping your arms around his neck, letting him bury his face into your shoulder, arms locking around you.

Joel breathed deep, shuddering as he attempted to curb the breakdown. He hated crying, especially in front of other people, in front of you.

But there had been countless nights where you’d held him after a nightmare. Before that though it had taken eight months into your relationship with him before he stopped locking himself in the bathroom, taking swigs from a bottle of smuggled liquor until the images of his dead little girl finally faded.

Joel’s hands gripped at your jacket, attempting to ground himself, to assure that you were there.

“We’ll be alright,” you told Joel, rubbing his back.

Joel only nodded against your shoulder, before lifting his head to look at you. You reached up, wiping away a few stray tears on his cheeks. He shook his head, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your forehead. He should be comforting you, not the other way around.

“I’m sorry baby,” Joel told you, making you shake your head.

“Nothin’ to be sorry about,” you reassured.

Joel leaned down, pecking your lips softly before taking your hand and heading back inside.

You both found Ellie sitting at the dining room table, messing with a loose string on her shirt.

“Show me your arm,” Joel told her.

The girl quickly stood, rolling up her sleeves and showing Joel her bite, which hadn’t changed, Joel nodded, signaling he was satisfied with what he saw.

“I’m gonna check on a few things,” Joel told you, making you nod.

His next sentence was aimed at Ellie, “You stay put, what she says goes”.

Ellie only nodded as Joel headed back out the front door, you sighed, leaning against the doorframe to the dining room.

“Is he always like that?” Ellie asked you, not meeting your gaze.

“Like what?” you questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“Crotchety,” Ellie answered, shrugging.

You huffed out a laugh, “He’s lost a lot is all, takes a toll on you, on everyone. You probably just remind him of…”.

Cutting yourself off, you decided Sarah’s was not your story to tell, not without Joel’s permission.

“Of what?” Ellie inquired.

Shaking your head, you pushed off the doorframe, “Not my story to tell kid.”

Ellie only nodded, accepting your answer. She looked solemn, aged beyond her years. This was no world for a kid, you could only imagine what her mother had been thinking bringing her into it.

A thought crossed your mind and you smiled at Ellie, “There’s hot water, at least, there should be,” you told her, remembering the last time you’d been here and had helped Tess with the dishes from dinner, “there’s at least three bathrooms upstairs, pick one.”

Your smile widened as Ellie’s eyes lit up. “Don’t have to tell me twice,” she said, getting up from the table and bounding up the stairs.

Laughing softly, you listened until the shower turned on before walking across the entry way to the living room area, where the old piano sat. Frank had taught you a few songs when you’d first visited with Joel and Tess. Your eyes watered at the thought of the kind man but you pushed the tears down and you sat, placing your fingers on the keys.

You lightly played one of the songs Frank had taught you, one of his favorites from the 90’s, “I Don’t Wanna Miss a Thing” by Aerosmith.

A bit of time must have passed because you jumped when you felt a sudden hand on your shoulder but relaxed at the feeling of a kiss being pressed to the top of your head. Joel.

“Nearly gave me a heart attack,” you commented, playing random chords now.

“Sorry baby, just got done fixing a truck battery,” Joel told you.

His hands were covered if what you assumed was oil or grease, and you cringed.

“Oh, you’re definitely washing up before we leave,” you told him.

“Where’s the kid?” he asked suddenly, looking behind him.

“Shower, come on, our turn,” you told Joel, standing from the piano bench and taking his hand and pulling him up the stairs.

You knocked at the bedroom door at the top of the stairs.

“Yeah?” came Ellie’s voice.

“Joel and I are gonna clean up too alright? Be good,” you called through the door.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” the girl called back, making you smile and shake your head before pulling Joel towards what had previously been the master bedroom until Frank could no longer make it up the stairs and the two men began using the downstairs guest room as the master.

Pushing open the door you’d left ajar earlier, you led Joel inside before shutting the door behind you and pulling off your jacket, tossing it onto the bed.

Your boots were next as you walked towards the bathroom. It was clean save for a bit of dust. A large clawfoot tub sat under the large window, the shower was in the corner of the room.

Sitting on the edge of the tub, you turned on the faucet, adjusting the temperature before stoppering the tub. You stood, beginning to take off the rest of your clothing, your shirt going first.

You looked up, noticing Joel watching you, unmoving.

“I ain’t getting in there,” Joel protested, pointing to the tub as you unbuttoned your jeans, pulling them down your legs.

“Yes, you are, it will be nice” you reasoned, pulling off your bra.

“Nope,” the older man protested again.

Once you were fully undressed you walked towards Joel, reaching up and beginning to unbutton his denim shirt.

“You take em’ off or I will,” you teased, making Joel crack a smile.

“Fine, fine,” he said, his hands replacing yours, attempting the grumpy old man façade, but that smile never left his face.

You eased into the now full tub after turning off the faucet. Once submerged you rest your chin on your arm on the edge of the tub as you watched Joel strip off the rest of his clothing.

Shimming forward a bit, you happily made room for Joel, who climbed in behind you, his muscles relaxing in the hot water. He had to admit, it did feel great.

Joel wrapped an arm around your waist, easily pulling you back against his chest. You settled in and rested your head on his shoulder, your hand covering his that was wrapped loosely around you.

You sighed contentedly, turning to look at Joel, who pressed a kiss to your forehead.

This was the feeling he was missing, the peace he’d been searching for, even if just for a moment.

“I love you sweetheart,” he whispered against your skin.

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face, “Love you too.”

 A/N: Alright so this is is the first TLOU fic I've written but I hope you enjoyed! Please let me know what you think! ❤ 

[newtonsheffield]

Molly. Girl. My homie. Sweet human. Dino dentist extraordinaire. Please please I beg of you more Virgin Anthony.

No but imagine how sweet Anthony would be when they actually have sex.

Kate’s been thriving, honestly. It’s been wholesome, and sweet and honestly kind of sexy watching Anthony explore his sexuality in ways he hasn’t had the opportunity to before. It’s also let her get in touch with her own sexuality more as well which has been a gift. It’s also basically been weeks and weeks and weeks of foreplay which honestly? Kind of added this lovely tension to everything they did. In a lot of ways it felt like being a dumb teenager again, learning the things you liked, every single touch magnified and charged with something else.

And it really was beautiful, when his eyes fluttered closed as he held himself above her, her name stuttering from his lips as their bodies shuddered together. She was still riding high from it actually when she tugged her clothes on and pressed a kiss against his lips when she left to go to work. And she really wasn’t expecting a man to walk in with an enormous bouquet of flowers.

“Can I help you?”

The flowers looked even bigger in the tiny, crowded bookshop and the man raised his eyebrows, “I’ve a delivery for Kate?”

“I’m- I’m Kate.”

“Great.” The man, said setting down the bouquet. “I’ll get the others from the car.”

“The others?!”

“I’ve two more. Card’s on that one.”

Her hand shook as she plucked the small envelope from its place, breaking the wax seal.

I know you’ll probably laugh at me for this but I don’t know a better way to say it.

I love you

Always yours,

Anthony

It choked in her throat as the man left and she sat surrounded by flowers as she reached for her phone, waiting for him to pick up.

“Hey!”

Her voice shook as she leaned forward, resting her elbow on the bench, “I love you too, you know.”

She heard his sharp intake of breath, “yeah?”

“Yes, absolutely.”

He let out a low whistle then a shaky chuckle, “I’m really glad to hear it because I would have looked like a complete dickhead otherwise.”

“You could have just sent me a text you know. You didn’t have to spend hundreds of pounds.”

“That’s not romantic. You deserve the best.”

“Wanna meet me for lunch?”

Anthony’s voice was slow, “Sexy lunch?”

“Man, he does it one time and he can’t get enough. Obviously sexy lunch.”

“Obviously.”

[sukunastoy]

Dumb Puppy (part 1 of 2)

Just something I quickly wrote up out of boredom. Toji is just a rude asshole but you can’t deny how much you crave him because of it.

You’re Megumi’s high school teacher, young and fresh out of college, but your students father is a complete asshole with no respect for you. But you want to be his dumb little puppy.

wc: 2.6k+

cw: name calling/insults (mutt, bitch, puppy etc), choking, cream pie, unprotected sex, master-pet dynamic, age difference.

As Toji lay on his back, you bounced on his cock like a desperate whore, holding a hand over your mouth to try and keep the noises to a minimum. You knew his teenage son was in the next room because you're the one who had given him a ride home from school. Despite him being 18 and nearly graduated by now, he didn't have a car yet. So you usually offered him a ride since you lived close by anyway. At least, that's what you tried to tell yourself. In reality you just wanted to get fucked stupid by his lowlife father.

Megumi was only a few years younger than you, so it was even more embarrassing to be teaching the class at his school as the new teacher, fresh out of college. Megumi was fairly quiet, and well mannered for the most part. It was admirable in the eyes of a teacher to have a good student. Originally you assumed he must have had a good home life with encouraging parents that guided him properly through life.

But when you stopped by the Fushiguro residence one day after school to drop off Megumis bag that he forgot in your class, you realized that wasn't the case at all.

The brute of a man that answered the door startled you, making you question if this was even the right house. Despite introducing yourself and explaining why you were there, the man simply looked you up and down and cocked his head to the side, as if intrigued by your presence. He was just jacked with muscles that made his black shirt look painted on. Aware that you were ogling him, the man reached up and gripped onto the doorframe above him, leaning forward slightly to shamelessly flex those thick arm muscles.

"My son gets to look at this fine piece of ass all day? No wonder he locks himself in his room after getting home. Probably jerking off to the thought of you."

Your jaw dropped at the vulgar words so easily coming from his mouth and you immediately went to defend yourself and say how inappropriate he was. Yet, you couldn't.

You couldn't find your voice. A weak little whimper swirled in your throat and your thighs tightened together out of some twisted arousal.

Heat swelled in your cheeks from embarrassment at the sudden dampness between your legs and without warning his hand gently came up under your chin.

"Did that actually just turn you on?"

"N-no, of...of course not!" You managed a stern voice, knocking his hand away. The audacity!

"I-I'm just dropping off Megumis bag, please, just give it to him."

"Hm...well he's actually out with some friends right now, but you could always wait around, and give it to him yourself."

What a ridiculous and non discreet way to invite you inside. But, you didn't resist the offer. In fact, you mindlessly accepted it. When he shut the door behind you with force and shoved the bag out of your hand, you should have called for help or tried to run. But instead you melted like jello in his touch, letting this crude man maneuver you over the back of the couch. He jerked your dress pants down and bit the skin along the back of your thighs making you squeal in pain and pleasure all at the same time.

In a brief moment of clear thinking you lifted yourself up to protest his actions, but he shoved your head back down over the couch with little effort, undoing his pants with his other hand.

You pretended that you were just frozen in fear and didn't know what else to do other than comply, but even an idiot could tell otherwise. The way you were screaming into the cushions and begging for more made you feel like the biggest slut, but fuck, you couldn't help it.

His thick and veiny cock stuffed your pussy without care and your eyes rolled back as his cockhead hammered into your cervix, dumping the most sick and twisted feelings of pleasure through your body. The way he had you bent over the couch kept your feet just barely off the ground and he fucked you so hard it didn't take long for your heels to slip off, allowing your toes to curl from the delicious pain.

You never had a man fuck you so animalistic before, and it was something you never knew you craved. His insensitive personality and blatant lack of giving a damn made you wetter beyond belief.

As he slapped your ass painfully, leaving obvious handprints, he insulted you for moaning the way you were. So loud and indecent.

When he called you a dumb mutt, you suddenly came all over him, soaking the edge of the couch.

"Woah! Did you just fucking cum cause I called you a dumb mutt?? Are you some kind of lewd bitch?"

Tears filled your eyes at the embarrassing action, even finding yourself confused at why you came from that. But at your lack of response, he laughed almost rudely and started hammering into you again, his large hands holding your waist so tightly it hurt.

You sobbed through his brutal movements, hearing his hips smack into your ass while driving his cock deeper than you thought it could go. The pressure between your hips was intense and nearly mind numbing but once your body stiffened and another orgasm exploded through you, it was blatantly obvious that you were getting off because of the mistreatment.

After he pumped you full of cum, he left you leaning over the couch, whimpering while in a daze. He tossed your pants next to you then walked on by, plopping himself down onto the other couch while turning the TV on. As you slowly lifted yourself, sniffling through the pain and pleasure simultaneously throbbing between your legs, you stared at him in disbelief. He wouldn't even look back over at you, and his whole body was so relaxed and calm as if you weren't even there. Through uncomfortable silence, you slowly dressed yourself and tried to straighten your hair, knowing it was probably an absolute mess.

He laughed at something on TV, his attention not giving you the time of day. What a prick, you thought, angrily regaining your composure. Walking out of the home, you were honestly shocked he never said one word after just leaving you when he was done with you. It was insulting. It was just fucking rude and mean...

But it didn't keep you from getting turned on when you thought about him using you so carelessly.

Maybe that's why the next day when it was raining so harshly, you offered to give Megumi a ride home. He tried to deny, not being one to take help for something that wasn't that big of a deal, but you insisted.

Each time you took your student home, you made some half assed excuse of why you needed to stick around and talk to his dad. These attempts were beyond pathetic, and it would probably be less insulting to yourself to just admit that you only came over to get dicked down.

The dark haired man beneath you kept an arm behind his head, and occupied his other hand with his phone. You could see the light on his face change and flicker across his eyes while he scrolled through social media, as if you didn't even exist.

"You really needed this dick today, didn't you?" He smirked while angling his phone to record where your sloppy pussy was engulfing his cock so eagerly.

"Y-yes!" You whimpered, trying to hide your face so it wouldn't get caught on film. You knew he'd send it to his friends; he's told you about it before.

"Fuck...look at this bitch riding me again like a stupid mutt." He commented to the recording, moving the phone closer to where your bodies were connected.

"O-oh fuck, I-I'm, I'm gonna-!"

"Don't squirt on my phone again, dumb puppy." He grunted as your glutinous walls gripped him tightly. He slapped your ass with his other hand while still recording, holding his phone back enough to capture your whole image as you shook from your intense oncoming orgasm.

"Fuck, fuck please, Toji please!!" You begged at the peak of your high and he rolled his eyes, knowing exactly what you were hoping for. Dropping his phone to the side he gripped onto your hips tightly, pulling you down onto him as he suddenly fucked himself up into you.

You fell forward while moaning loudly and his strong arms wrapped around you firmly, keeping your body sealed against his while he hammered into you mercilessly through your high.

"You like that, you fucking whore?"

"I, l-love it!!" You sobbed pathetically into his neck, his cock hitting so deep it felt like you'd break but that's what you wanted. It seemed like he would split you open but the pain and exhilaration turned it into a sickening pleasure that you were addicted to.

It hurt so fucking good.

Before you even got to come down from your high, he shoved you off and you whined into the blankets, clenching your thighs together as he cut you off without any warning.

"Get your puppy pussy into the air." He said while slapping your ass again and on command your hips rose from the bed, shaking desperately for him.

"Come on, show everyone your sloppy cunt."

It was obscene and embarrassing but you couldn't help yourself...

You did as you were told, reaching your hands back to spread yourself open, knowing he had his phone up again.

"An obedient mutt." He chuckled while positioning himself behind you, resting back on his haunches. He jerked your hips down onto his dick and you howled in bliss, letting him buck into you like it was all that you were good for.

"Goddamn." He groaned in pleasure, running a hand along your back. His touch sent you into a spiral of ecstasy and you hiccuped through a sobbing moan into the blankets.

"That fucking grip..." he sighed breathlessly, unable to take his gaze away from the thin stretch of pink suctioning around his cock. "Puppy's pussy is so hungry for my dick, you just can't get enough, can you?"

Shaking your head quickly, you couldn't resist pushing your hips back into his, desperately wanting him to fuck you senseless. But he made you wait as always, enjoying how you would start begging eventually. Not to mention he enjoyed recording you from behind, pouring insults and degrading names down over you as you begged for more.

Though you tried to keep your sounds silent, it never lasted long and you grunted and gasped like a bitch in heat as Toji leisurely rolled his hips into yours. He fucked you deeply but at an agonizingly slow pace, enjoying the quivering of your legs as his cockhead hit into your cervix slowly but with force.

The more you tried to push back into him, the more he held you still with a painful grip on your waist, keeping you from building up an orgasm faster than he wanted.

"Pleaaaase~!" You moaned without remorse, forcing your hips back into his. He chuckled at your inability to wait a bit longer and pushed you forward, letting his cock slip out of your tightening walls.

"Fuck! T-Toji! You asshole!"

In the blink of an eye he had taken a hold of you though, flipping you to your back and placing both hands tightly around your neck. You tried to let out a gasp but failed, your breath stuck in your throat below his grip. He pushed himself back into you, fucking you at an unforgiving pace and your face tightened in inescapable pleasure.

"You can breathe when I cum, fucking impatient bitch." A pitiful whine managed to escape through your throat as the sounds of his near primal growls and the squelching of your squirting pussy filled your ears. You couldn't even control yourself as you came hard, eyes rolling back from lack of air.

"You're disgusting, aren't you? Cumming and squirting all over my dick as I choke you the fuck out." There was no lie in it, and the pure shame from what your body got off to couldn't overcome the delicious ecstasy coursing through your veins right now. "Open your mouth." He commanded through a deep grunt and you immediately did while also gripping onto his wrists desperately.

He let a glob of spit drip down from his mouth and into yours, making you seal your eyes tightly and writhe your hips upwards through another sudden orgasm.

"Fucking hell you're a sicko, aren't you?" He panted while chasing his release and you choked and wheezed with lack of air.

Your face burned with pain and embarrassment as you suffocated through your filthy orgasm, drool spilling out the side of your mouth as he began to choke you even harder.

Your ears began to ring and your vision blurred through stars as he hammered into you nearly hatefully, slamming his hips so hard into yours it would be difficult to walk for a while.

He suddenly released your throat, letting air flood back into your lungs only to immediately come back out as broken moans as he fucked continuous spurts of hot cum against your womb.

You screamed and cried pathetically while the sloppy mix of fluids spilled out onto the bed beneath you, soaking the blankets and mattress.

"Tell me how much you love me, stupid whore, fucking tell me. Though you know I could care less about a filthy slut like you." He demanded while gripping your chin painfully, his hips still rolling into yours as he came down from his high.

"I-I love you..!" You sobbed, the back of your hand covering your mouth. "I r-really do!" And you fucking did, that was the worst part of it all.

"And why would I love a dumb mutt in return? You're just a fucking hole for my dick. Damn, I don't even remember your name most of the time." He laughed and you trembled from post orgasms, warm tears still rolling down your cheeks.

"You're just my stupid puppy, aren't you?"

You nodded quickly, reaching out to hold his arm. He let your hand remain where it was for a moment before he finally pulled out of you and away from your grip.

"Look at that mess. Fuck, you're gross." He laughed while sitting up on his knees and gesturing down to the puddle on his bed.

"You're the only woman I know who can squirt like that while being choked out. You're sick in the head, aren't you, dumb puppy?" He teased while suddenly slapping your swollen clit, making you yelp and tuck your legs together while turning to the side.

"But you'll keep coming back here, won't you? Cause you have a gluttonous cunt and you're disgusting, but I'm the only one willing to fuck such a pathetic bitch."

Panting weakly, you looked to him from the side of your eye, nodding in confirmation. No one ever made you cum so hard besides Toji. His rude, hateful actions and words roused the most revolting pleasure from within you, but you couldn't get enough of it.

Before he could move away, you quickly sat up and tossed yourself into his arms, sobbing pitifully against him.

"Aw...there, there, my poor puppy." He laughed while patting your head as if you really were just a pet to him.

"Please..,please keep me." You begged while clinging to him in the most pathetic way possible. "I love you, I'll do anything you ever want."

"Nah...you don't love me, you just love my big dick and how it melts that pretty little mind of yours."