#this is SO poorly written but well. it's not like im turning this in for a grade

[sunny12th]

been thinking about the rotting blue heart in the House of the Undying that seemed to nearly kill Dany and the Heart of Winter that made Bran cry. Drogon ate the blue heart, saving Dany, and destroying the HotU as a result. Dany also ate a raw stallion heart to give her son (the stallion who mounts the world, the title that actually belongs to Dany/Drogon) strength.

There's some foreshadowing there, right? Dany and Drogon (plus the other dragons/dragon riders maybe) are gonna eat the Heart of Winter? Dany consuming death itself? life eating death, fire melting ice, etc. Obviously the "Heart of Winter" might not be a literal and physical heart.

Bran eating the Heart of Winter through Summer; Summer literally consuming Winter. We see him eat while in Summer's mind in the books, it's an escape from his own nagging hunger. Hunger is for winter, feasting is for summer.

Eating as a celebration of life. I like this visual better than This Character strikes down the Big Bad with a sword. I also like it more than the three dragons simply burning whatever they see in the Heart of Winter. Eating is a celebration of life; I read a post awhile ago about how grrm puts so much Detail into his descriptions of food because of this. because it's all about celebrating life in the face of death, when you know Winter is Coming anyways.

[arrowpunk]

Me: Hmmmm I think I need to start watching/reading/listening to more silly lighthearted media. I've been consuming too much heavy stuff lately and I don't think this is good for my overall mental wellbeing without something to balance it out

Also me: OOOO you know what I want to try watching again? Black Sails

[mysicklove]

𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓'𝐒 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐖!

cw: sub! denki kaminari, gn! reader, toy use: bullet vibrator, nipple clamps, fleshlight. kinda heavy bondage (he is tied to chair lol), sadistic reader!!, denki being the biggest dork at the end, unedited (for now?) and POORLY WRITTEN lolol

wc: 1.8k

a/n: well @sorrowfulrosebud this was supposed to be a drabble. oopsies. everyone dont yell at me for writing this instead of kinktober IM SORRY. ALSO denki is a little silly at the end, I hope it doesn't ruin the mood for you guys :/ he is just such a nerd to me.

“No. No. Nonononono!” The blonde squeals, squirming in his chair. His legs try to kick up, causing his thighs to pull at the restraints.

You frown at him but ignore his plea, snapping the nipple clams onto the first nipple. He jumps in his chair and he lets out a yelp, muffling the sounds of the vibrator. “Don’t “no” me, you were the one to beg for this.”

In an instant, Denki’s face shifts into a wicked grin, and you roll your eyes. “You know I like to put on a show,” he purrs, “makes it more kinky, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, yeah, you sick pervert.” You use the remote to turn up the vibrator logged inside him a setting higher, and the blonde gulps, letting about a small mewl. Then, you clamp the metal onto his other nipple, forcing another pained noise out from his mouth.

“Ow! Ow!” He screeches, twisting from left to right in his red rope bindings. “It still hurts! Y-You got to be gentle with me!”

You reach for his thigh, giving him a teasing slap. “Quit that. Gentle with you? You would throw a hissy fit if I was.”

He remains quiet at that, agreeing with you, and the action makes you grin. You grab the fleshlight and begin to pour a copious amount of lube onto it while Denki squirms in his chair, excited for what’s to come. The bullet vibrator placed meticulously on his prostate was sending his head spinning, but to add something around his cock too? He was already daydreaming about how hard he is about to orgasm.

In one quick motion, you slide the entire thing down his length. His reaction is immediate; his back arches and he let out a moan. “There ya go,” You hum, “You like that, don't you baby?”

You don’t ease into it, knowing he will complain if you do. So, instead you set a ruthless pace and Kamari already feels himself begin to drool. His eyes roll back and he begins to hump into the toy, not caring that his hips were basically strapped down into the chair. “Y-Yeah. Can you…Vibrator?”

You smile at the boy, nodding to him before reaching over and clicking the button onto the highest setting. He groans out, a lazy smile plastered on his face. “Fuck yeah. Fuck, this is heaven, ‘s got to be.”

You scoff at him, trying not to roll your eyes. He was always the dramatic type, trying to find the most creative ways to show his love for what you do to him. It was cute though, so you didn’t mind too much.

His hips continue to buck into the fleshlight, and his ass lifts slightly up the chair, going against the binds to try and reach it better. The vibrator in him makes a loud buzzing noise and every once in awhile he stops his desperate humping to try and push back into it.

The noises he let's out are loud, high in pitch, as if he was trying to tell everyone around him how good he was feeling. It makes you wonder if you want to put a gag on him, but be always gets so pouty after you do, and you didn't know if you want to deal with that. So, you let the neighbors hear his cries — it was better than the annoying sound of the vibrator, to you and Denki at least.

Eventually his hips start to thrust up too high, and the rope begins to rub against his thigh. He was going to hurt himself at this rate, and that's the last thing you guys needed. You rest your hands on his thigh, pushing him down against the chair. “Kaminari, relax, it's not going anywhere. You don't gotta chase the toy.”

He shakes his head, continuing to try and buck upward. His eyes are furrowed shut and his face is contorted in a frown. “Can't help it. Love it, s-so much!”

You yank the toy away and Denki lets out a noise akin to a puppy yelping in pain, which causes you to roll your eyes. “No. Please no! I'm sorry I'm sorry ill relax. Don't take it away, I can't cum without it! I'll be good, a good boy for you I promise!”

Your face heats up at his lewd words and you pause for a second. His cock twitches from the coolness of the air, and you watch as a glob of pre drops onto the chair. He whines, and squirms in his confinement.

Then, you gulp and sigh, rubbing your hands on his thighs that are trying their best to stay planted on the chair. “It's alright, I'm not stopping,” you murmur, sliding the fleshlight onto his cock with a satisfying squelch. He cries out, and the noise loudness of the sound startled you. Your eyes flicker to his now glassy ones. “Fuck, Kaminari, you sound straight up out of a bad porno, you know that?” You say, breathless, and fixed solely on his face.

Sweat beads at his temples, and his lip trembles. His cheeks flush red and he shakes his head back and forth. The pale legs tremble in his seat but he doesn't buck upward, instead waiting for you to cover his cock. It's agonizing to him, and he wants nothing more than to fuck it, but he remains seated, instead choosing to push himself back into the bullet vibrator.

Your hands reach up to play with the chain and Kaminari let’s out a hiss, but doesn’t oppose it. The nipples have become slightly swollen from the clamp, and it causes you to frown. “Poor thing, look how red they are.”

A meek grin pulls at his face. “Y-You like it though, yeah?”

“I do. They are so cute like this,” You nod, slightly pulling on the metal, and tearing another whimper from his mouth. Your hand continues their quick motions and his moans begin to get louder. His hips begin to buck up again.

“Kaminari,” You warn sharply and he immediately presses his ass back into the chair with a short apology. You place your hand onto his face, your own apology, but for the harshness of your tone. He nuzzles into it, rubbing his cheek into your palm. “Good boy.”

He nods his head, buzzing at the praise. Drool begins to bead at the corner of his lips, and his eyes begin to get cloudy. He finds himself chanting out curse words and melting into the chair. With every stroke of the toy, every sound of the liquid gliding across his dick, he feels himself inch toward his high. The blonde's hands clench and unclench, and he mewls. “I need to cum. P-Please?”

The vibrator continues to target his sweet spot and it sends him shivering, not knowing if he should focus on the buzzing sensation or the one wrapped around his cock. But, you pull on the chain again, answering his question for him. His back arches and he cries out from the pain of his nipples being tugged uncomfortably outward.

“Yeah? That was quick, little embarrassing, don’t you think babe?”

He pouts at you, and tears begin to tumble down his cheeks. “Shut up!”.

You ignore him, instead choosing to rest your cheek on his thigh, now kneeling in front of the chair, and blinking up at him.

“‘s nothing to be embarrassed bout. I think it’s cute that you last as long as a virgin,” You coo, eyes flickering to the flesh light that keeps hiding his dick from you.

Denki shakes his head from side to side, whining at you, and beginning to sniffle from the tears. “Y-You just don’t understand,” he warbles and you raise your eyebrows. “Don’t even know what to focus on. Gonna cum, I can’t. I-I—Please!”

You smile at him, standing up again and resting your arm on the back of his chair. It creates a shadow over his body, and it makes the boy feel strangely small compared to you. He doesn’t complain.

One hand continues to stroke him, and the other plays with the chain on his chest. You pause for a moment, creating an air of dramatics, and Denki let’s out a small whine in complaint. “Alright, you can cum. I guess I don’t mind.”

He nods his head eagerly, blinking up at you with wet eyes. Then, you watch his body go rigid and his face scrunch up. Denki curses out, and you wait a moment before you grab at the chain and rip it off of his nipples.

It sends a burning pain down his and entire back and the blondes eyes widen, shocked by your actions. He borderline screams and it sends a full shiver down your spine. “Ow! Ow! Fuck. Fuck. Ow!”

But it doesn’t ruin his orgasm, in fact, it may have made it stronger. The blonde cums into the fleshlight and you watch as it drips down his cock, staining it a milky shade of white. He moans are high in pitch, and they seem to echo off of the walls from how loud they are. But they were always like this when he orgasms, so you weren’t surprised by it.

It lasts about 20 seconds total, and eventually, he slumps against the chair. You turn off the vibrator quickly, not wanting to overstimulate him just yet and pull off the fleshlight. The remaining of his cum drips from the toy and onto the tip of Kaminari’s cock. He doesn’t even spare it a glance.

Instead, he looks toward you, tongue out and licking at the excess drool left behind on his lips and chin. He pulls at the restraints, but doesn’t really put any effort to get out; it was more of just a test of whether he could get out. When satisfied by the results, he nods to himself, before turning to you. He cocks his head to the side.

“Soooooooo,” He announces loud and proud, contrasting his earlier pathetic pleas. You sigh to yourself, already knowing something ridiculous is to come from the way he is grinning at you. When Denki sees you playing along, he dramatically clears his throat. “Who’s the next star on tonight’s game show?” The voice is loud, mimicking every classic game show host. “Will it be, contestant number one, the dildo? Contestant number two, the vibrating wand? Orrrrrr the fan favorite, all-time champion, most beloved—“

You hold up two items you grabbed from the box placed neck to you and cock your head to the side. “Ball gag and cock ring?”

Denki's eyes widen, and he smiles anxiously at you. He should have known that you were going to play along with his antics, and the results were never fun. His voice is higher in pitch, and his eyes never leave the items in your hand as if terrified by them.

“W-We will find out after this s-short break, folks.” You borderline pounce on him.

[keepingsecretstokeepyoutk]

This is going to be very long and sound a little crazy at first, and maybe a little mean but please hear me out…

I’m convinced that Taylor sometimes purposefully includes one line or multiple lines of poorly written or clunky lyrics in specific songs to make a point.

We all have seen some version of this with bearding songs like London Boy, a simple bop whose lyrics were immediately detected as sounding disingenuous, even with the general population (the locations she was signing about were the most touristy and too far away from each other to visit on the same day, etc, basically implying that she doesn’t actually have a long term local bf there that she spends a bunch of time with exploring the city with, etc).

But just like everything else on the album, I think she’s doing maybe a more in your face version of that. No holds barred.

So High School is an obvious example of this, with all of the early 2000’s hs imagery, she seems pretty blatantly to be mocking the idea the public has of her “living out every American girl’s high school fantasy” of dating the tall popular football player. With lyrics like “touch me while your friends play grand theft auto” (barf), etc, shes being clear enough that this is not a serious song.

This is the possibly controversial part, but I’m so curious to see what others think about this - I think another iteration of this on this album is the title track, The Tortured Poets Department. Hear me out.

(First, I want to reassure you that there are lines in this song that I really like and think are well written, like: “you’re in self-sabotage mode/throwing spikes down on the road” and “but you awaken with dread/pounding nails in your head/but I’ve read this one/where you come undone/I chose this cyclone with you”. And I fully agree with the idea that these sentiments are from Karlie’s perspective. Basically, when you take out the chunks I’m about to talk about this song makes way more sense and has a beautiful sentiment of undying love behind it - which makes the following parts stick out that much more!)

The first time I listened through the album, and this was the second song, I got terrified because I didn’t understand its place in the whole narrative and when I heard the first clunky line “scratch your head like a tattooed golden retriever” I got the ick. Then the bridge with no structure and no wit and no clever turns of phrase, no metaphor, just “you put my ring on the finger people put wedding rings on” and “that was the closest I’ve ever been to my heart exploding”. So over simplified and cheesy, and doesn’t sound anything like her writing, especially the caliber of her recent lyrics

I know art is largely subjective, but I insist there is no way that the same person who wrote Cowboy Like Me wrote these lines into her title track if she didn’t have a reason and a point to make. To make it clear that this isn’t a matter of genre personal taste, because I know CLM is a very specific sound and a style that music snobs often take more seriously - I love SO many of her candy pop bangers, they are infinitely more clever, articulate, and overall works of art by a true wordsmith than this. Karma, The Very First Night, etc are all a master classes in clever words and tight writing being tucked into an “unserious” pop song.

The lyrics I cited above to me sound like what haters believe her writing sounds like, even fans who make little jokey TikTok’s about her and make up a spoofy something to sing while in character - that’s what these lyrics sound like.

Im worried im being too harsh, but please stay with me because the more I think about the more genius I think it actually is.

In the context of the themes of rest of the album, (her being trapped, miserable, manipulated, ready to burn it all down, screaming to be seen) this theory became clear to me. I think she’s leaning into her public persona (in more ways than one, we’ve already seen it with the stunting), in a way setting a “trap” for her fans and the public, that will essentially call them all out on how they ignored the real her in favor of her pr narrative, making the album about paternity tests, etc, all of which I’m guessing will become very clear in retrospect, possibly after she comes out? (Of course it’s already clear to us now, which is another purpose of the beard songs including clunky writing - to signal to us that these are not serious and that she knows that we know that she knows (like Phoebe on friends lol))

Ultimately, this is (along with So Highschool) a classic beard song. When she writes in this voice, she embodies the most extreme versions of her public persona, not just the one she has cultivated on purpose, but also the one that people have of her that don’t know her (as she did in Blank Space), including those that don’t take her seriously - because her identity as a boy crazy psycho ex girlfriend is directly tied to people dismissing her art as vapid because, they’ve only ever heard her singles, they don’t know the full her.

That voice is the straightest, the most boy crazy, the most one note, and sometimes the most unsophisticated writer version of her that people have in their minds, including her fans - the fans that refuse to see her as a whole person, the real, that believe she is head over heals for big football boy, that believe “he knows how to ball, I know Aristotle” is a romantic line about how opposites attract, the fans that say they don’t “get” some of her most beautiful and well-written songs, the fans that don’t see her and haven’t been seeing her.

They didn’t see giant Taylor on the eras tour, they refuse to see all of her queer signaling, etc, and I think she’s making the bearding songs obvious to underscore the difference between her Taylor(TM) and Taylor(person) personas.

She knows that despite the fact that the lyrics don’t even come close to measuring up to the rest of the album, the public, and many of her fans, will make this song one of the most listened to simply because they are looking for evidence of her relationships from the past year. We’ve all commented on how insane it is that this layered, complex, devastating album is being reduced to the usual paternity tests. This is currently one of the top songs precisely because it is “about Matty”. And of course, So High School is one of the tops songs along with it because it’s “about Travis”.

The juxtaposition of the bearding songs alongside her beautifully written poetry of Prophecy, Peter, Whose Afraid of Little Old Me, Cassandra, How did it end, The Albatross, etc mirrors the juxtaposition of her two selves during the Midnights era.

She has proven the point that if they think she wrote every line of this song completely in earnest, then they see her largely no differently than her haters do, as a subpar writer who writes absurdly cheesy love songs praising trashy to mediocre, problematic men. By eating it up they tell her that’s what she’s good for, for being the subject of tabloids and warring fans who make this entire album about two (purposefully) mediocre songs and the men who “inspired” them.

She has proven her point - that a subset of her fans will be distracted by a lesser song simply because they think it’s about one of the greasy men that’s she been seen holding hands with. That they will ignore once again all of her pleas to be seen, that she’s in pain and caged, and has been driven insane by their willful ignorance. That they don’t appreciate her full potential and talent, that they don’t even see it, and just want to be confirmed in their ideation of her.

This song is essentially the “forget him(her)” pill at the beginning of the fortnight mv, but it’s a sedative for the fans, who are addicted to her straight narrative. Similar to Willow’s 13 chants of “that’s my man” that started off evermore, casting a spell of heteronormativity over everyone who wanted it, so that they could choose to just completely ignore the following 14 gayest songs ever written. Don’t pay no mind to her singing directly about women with zero male perspective - she said “that’s my man!” We’re good! She’s still straight!

Taylor in the fortnight mv had to a take a sedative to be able to go into the next room and write her bearding songs - ie she self medicates to deal with keeping up the straight persona and to get through having to release dumbed down songs to feed the masses. (I also see the pill as something forced on her, I think it represents both layers)

From the first time I watched the music video I thought the writing Taylor looked so miserable and the bearding songs are why.

In this room she’s trapped, churning out the songs that her fans expect of her, the songs that make her team money, the songs that make her money, but that she has to compromise her truth to create.

But when she frees herself she’ll burn the stories that weren’t true, the filler that doesn’t represent her.

I’m curious to hear other’s thoughts on this - have you ever felt like Taylor purposefully inserts off-sounding lyrics that are written in a different voice to make a point?

I want to reiterate that it’s not the entirety of either song that I think is terrible, I genuinely love bopping along to both So High School and TTPD (track). Like I said above, when you remove the clunky lines from ttpd (track), the song has another layer and likely gives voice to some Karlie insight that is beautiful and tragically profound. It’s the red herrings, the pieces specifically meant to tie this song to a bearding narrative, that I’m dissing, and the only reason they are suspicious in the first place is because I know how gifted Taylor is with the written word.

Taylor is such a skilled writer that she can embody the voice of the bad writer that dismissive ignorant idiots believe her to be, just to make a point!

I even wonder if maybe there is a second version of this song locked away in one of those drawers in the fortnight writing room that leaves out the red herrings and is a thousand times better than the bearding version we got.

I hope one day we get to hear it.

[bbgghost]

lot to love: chapter 6

blurb: you are the nineteen year old, younger, mutant sister of Mystique. you go to Professor X's school and have been since you were young. slow burn with wolverine ♡♡♡

a.n. hey sweaties ik it took me a bit to get this one up but here you are. much longer lols. erm maybe i'm completely changing the vibe of this story or maybe im just reading into it who knows enjoy :3♡

c.w. alcohol consumption lols! age gap with reader cos mans is 200+ yrs old, anxiety about school if you squint at the start

masterlist | tags: @white-wolf-buckaroo @mikariell95 @onlythehobi @kokomixxk @samsamsantos

You sat in the small classroom, pen to paper, with only five minutes remaining. You hands wrote quickly along the lined paper. Who decides that its okay to put a full essay after 30 multiple choice questions! Charles Xavier, affectionatelly called the Professor by students like you, thinks its okay. He sits across from you in his wheelchair, wearing his signature smile as he watches you stress over the paper. "And that's it." He says.

Finishing the last line of your poorly written conclusion, you put your pen down per the Professor's instructions. "You did wonderfully dear." He said, answering your silent questions. It's handy how he can mind read. You smiled gratefully, and grabbed your pencil case off and the paper of the desk. You handed him the paper and he gave you a curt nod before you exited the room. Outside, Rogue, Bobby and Pyro stood waiting for you.

You gave them shy smiles before they began speaking. "Did you pass?" Marie asked carefully. You nodded as she wrapped her arms around you. You both giggled as you both swayed a little. "Yay!" She squealed. Bobby smiled at you kindly and Pyro just kind of smirked. "We should celebrate!" She said as she pulled back. "I'm just becoming a professor it's not that big of a deal!" You laughed.

She grabbed your arm and turned to give the boys a 'fuck off' look. Bobby smiled and Pyro rolled his eyes but they both turned and let you walk off. "You should come to my room and we can drink that bottle I found." She said with a smirk. "I just became a professor and you want me to break a school rule immediately?" She gave you a knowing look. "Of course I want to do that, what time?" She giggled at your response.

"I'm so proud of you!" Storm said as she wrapped her arms around you. You enjoyed the warmth of her small figure and beamed with a smile. "Thanks!" You said sweetly, and turned to look at the rest of the Professors. "So, what do you think you'll teach?" Jean asked you. You shrugged with a smile, "I don't know..."

"I think you do." The Professor said with a smirk. "No fair." You jokingly scolded. "I don't know, probably something humanities. What do you think Professor?" You asked. He thought for a moment, before speaking up. "I think humanities studies would suit you well. You do have a spark for writing as well though." He said. You nodded and turned to Storm. "Whatever you do, you'll be great." She reassured. You thanked her and looked at Logan.

The small party that Charles had thrown in your honour included some drinks and all the senior peoples of the school. There were a few streamers and balloons scattered throughout, most likely a courtesy of Storm. Everybody had been congratulating you as they saw you, but Logan hadn't even smiled towards you.

You wanted his approval, not to say that you weren't immensely grateful for everyone else's support, but you still wanted to here him congratulate you. You strolled towards him, completely maintaining eye contact the whole way. You prayed your legs wouldn't give out as you felt your face grow warmer on instinct. God, you didn't want to embarass yourself but it was all a routine reaction at this point.

When you reached him, you tilted your head and smiled. He smirked and drank you in, holding a beer in his hand. "You happy about it, kid?" He asked. You nodded and began speaking as you straightened your posture. "Yes. Thanks for your help." You said gratefully. "Nah. It was all you, doll." He dismissed before taking a sip of his beer and looking away from you. You clenched your jaw at his non-chalance.

You thought for a moment, unsure how to continue the conversation. "So, you're gonna be teaching Humanities?" You nodded. "That's good. It's important. Kid's these days don't know a thing about what's going on." He said as he shook his head. You laughed at his comment. "Jeez, showing your age a bit aren't you?" You asked. He finally returned his eyes back to you. Although he was squinting with anger, you still felt a flutter of excitement in your chest.

He slowly let his smirk break through. "I'm just saying, that you young people have no idea about the world around you." He continued. "Oh yeah?" You teased him. "Yeah. That little boyfriend of yours isn't the shiniest tool in the shed." He spoke, not an ounce of shame in his voice. "Boyfriend?" You asked with a look of both disgust and confusion. "Fire boy." He commented and in an attempt to hide his jealousy, took yet another sip of his cool beer.

"Pyro? Ew. No." Logan swore he'd never been happier in his life. Granted, he doesn't remember anything past ten years ago, but he still couldn't help the sly grin that overtook his features. "He's just a freak that hangs out with me." You said, rolling your eyes and crossing your arms across your chest. Logan thought you were the one really showing your age now. "Really? He's all over you though." He reasoned.

"Yeah, because he thinks he'll get some." Your comment made him laugh a little louder than he liked. You broke your disgusted expression to smirk at him. You took in his appearance again. Tall and overly muscley, but broken down by your teasing and rude remarks. You liked him better this way, with a small smile over his rugged exterior. "Well then sweetheart, have fun tonight." He says warmly.

If only he knew...

You giggled as the liquid spilled down your chin. Marie laughed at your funny posture as you attempted to prevent it from dripping onto the bed sheets. It would only lead to evidence that would be undeniable in the face of your elders. Storm had already scolded you when she had found you walking around the mansion, reeking of cigarettes. "Oh my god. Stop laughing and get me a tissue!" You squealed at her. She turned and grabbed a box from her bed side table.

You dabbed at the stream of alcohol that was trying to make its way down your neck. "Ugh, I'm so going to get caught." You commented. Marie only giggled more. "Yeah. You reek of Vodka." She laughed. "This is all your fault." You commented, and threw the soaked tissue onto the floor. "No it is not! You were the one who decided to start drinking as I reminded you Bobby froze all of Pyro's stuff last year for Christmas."

You started giggling again at that story again. "I'm sorry but Pyro was trying to melt the stuff with his stupid lighter." You tell and fiddle with the cap of the bottle. "It literally wasn't. I think that's enough for you." She says as she takes away the bottle from you. "Ugh Mom!" You groan jokingly. Marie gives you a judgmental stare as you just smile with innocence.

"Let's go get you some water." She suggests and grabs you arm, helping you up. You pull your arm around her, and try to not put too much of your body weight on her. You did drink a third of the bottle though, so her body is a huge help.

You both stumble down the stairs into the kitchen. The microwave you stared at when you first began talking to logan reads a bright 3:41 to you, and you groan at the thought. You stare into the clean and black reflective surface of the microwave, and awe at all of its multi-functioned buttons before a glass is shoved into your hand. You gulp it down, but also manage to get it all down your chin. In an attempt of a save you lean over the sink, and let the water dribble over the dirty dishes.

Rogue grabs the back of your hair in a pursuit of saving your freshly done curls. She laughs at you as you abandon using a glass at all, and instead use the steady stream of water that flows out of the tap as a source of refreshment. You turn the tap off when you feel complete, but stay hovering over the sink to stop yourself from dripping anymore from your mouth onto the ground.

"What the hell are you two doing?" You here the all to familiar voice of Logan Howlett telling you off. You giggle and turn around from him to wipe your mouth. As you do so, Marie attempts to explain herself. "We're just getting water. She woke up really thirsty." She tried to excuse. You turned and looked him straight in the face, still giddy as before. "Yeah well, hard liquor can do that to you." He said with a low, growly voice. Your eyes widened and you turned to Rogue, her mirroring you.

"Heightened senses." You whispered. "Don't worry, I won't tell." He reassured and walked towards the fridge. He opened it and instead of getting a soda like he usually would, he instead closed the fridge door and turned to you both. "Not unless you give me some." You smiled and started giggling. You grabbed Marie's hand and started your ascend to her room with Logan in tow.

When you go into Rogue's room you realise you forgot you were sitting in a pitch black room before, and as you are first to go in, you turn on the old light. When Marie and Logan come in behind you, you're reminded of the fact that you spilt a good bit everywhere by the horrific stench that permeates from just about every surface in there. "Wow." Logan muses in painful suprise. "Sorry." You saw half-jokingly and make a beeline to the bottle on her bedside table.

You pick it up and accidentally stumble into his arms as you turn, not realising he was invading your personal space. He grabs your arms to stable you, but you sway just from pure tipsy-ness and take longer than necessary to get back to normal. He grabs the bottle out of your hand, and twists the cap off. He tips his head back, and begins draining the bottle. You stare up at his neck muscles as they convulse around the liquid.

Fuck, this room was warm. He drains almost all of the liquid and hands it to Rogue behind you. "Thanks." He says, and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "Ew." You accidentally say out loud. When he raises his eyebrow at you, it's when you truly realise. You eyes widen and you quickly make a break for the exit. You knew he wasn't actually going to do anything, and either way you wanted to go to bed, but it was bringing you a lot of joy at the idea of him chasing you.

You here him grumble something to Rogue through the walls before see him pop out of the room. He spots you leaning against a wall, biting your lip and pushing your knees over one another. He trails his eyes down your legs, to your socked feet and back up to your shorts. You always wore such short shorts. He slowly makes his way towards you, and stands tall above you. "C'mon sweetheart, time for bed." He says and makes a grab for your arm. You duck him and slip away, giggling with a teasing look on your face.

"I'm not playing, come here." He says, beginning to look annoyed. You morphed into him and copied him, with your hands on your hips. "I'm not playing, come here." You said and began giggling. He clenched his jaw as he stared into his own reflection. It wasn't exactly an easy thing to look at. At the sound of him huffing, you quickly changed back to yourself. "Sorry." You said, but still had a small smile on your face. You complied when he put his arm over your shoulder and directed you down the hall to your room.

[iiotic]

TWO WRONGS, DONT MAKE IT RIGHT, AFTERALL

summary: your relationship with wanderer is complicated, friends? friends with benefits? partners? enemies? definitely not the last one, yet you don't know the answer to that question.

tw: modern au, female reader, swearing, suggestive, ooc wanderer?? sexual topics, wanderer is taller than you, not proff read, lowercase intended, poorly written, cringe, if you'll find more please tell me!! MDNI | wc: 1.4k

"what are we?" the question hovers your mind hundreds and thousands times already, yet none of you two are brave enough to ask about it. pheraps in wanderers case its his pride?

instead, you just keep everything.. flowing. one time, he'll be as sweet as sugar and the next day he's as cold as ice. it's not the first time you bumped into him him with another woman and its not the first time he caught you flirting with another man.

one day, you're sitting in a cafe across the street from the university. you took a deep breath, scrolling through the social media mindlessly with your head in the clouds as you were lost in your thoughts. until a tall male took a seat infront of you.

a very known tall male with his signature dark blue hair and violet eyes, wearing a black shirt with some sweatpants for today.

"hello there" he greeted you, teasingly.

you looked up at him from your phone, an unpleasant expression formed on your face as you remembered the events that accured last night. as you were coming back from the local library you found him and some random chick making out in an alley way.

you obviously didn't care, why would you? its not any of your business who he fucks. you grumbled a greeting before looking back at your phone again, hoping that he can leave as soon as possible.

he gave you a subtle smile, while scanning your face. you were so lost in your thoughts, staring at your phone, that he was able to take a good look at you without disturbance.

"what's up with that face?" he asked, leaning his back on the chair.

"what's up with you."

his stupid signature smirk formed on his lips. you know him as well as he did with you. he knows your mood. he knows the possibility of whats bugging you inside, and him seeing you frown and pout like this, clearly means something is irritating you. however he decided not to push it.

"nothing much. just thought i'd stop by here." he responded casually. "and see you."

"why don't you stop by somewhere else where your woman is."

"i dont have a woman." he almost chuckled at your sassy remarks. "though, i do have a date in 30 minutes." he answered bluntly, giving you a glance before focusing his attention on the waitress.

he didn't look like he was going on a date, more like going to dig trash to find something to eat, but then not finding anything and starving to death.

"even better, how many woman have you seen this month.." you said, it was clearly a rhetorical question. you opened your mouth to say something but a waitress cut you off.

"may i take your order?" you looked at wanderer who seemed deep in thoughts before starting ordering a bunch of things. he stopped and then the waitress turned to you, you quickly dismissed her saying that you don't want anything. she looked confused at first as she thought you guys were on a date but walked away not questioning anything anyway.

"i thought you were going on a date in 30 minutes, why are you ordering so much, hell, why are you ordering anything at all?" you questioned him, clearly irritated by his doing and his presence here.

"i am." he answered bluntly, once again. not adding anything not even looking at you anymore.

the awkward silence accured, nor you nor wanderer saying anything to break it. 15 minutes passed and the food was put on your table, that you booked for yourself tonight, that you were supposed to enjoy alone.

"say, are you jealous that im going on a date?" he said finally breaking the silence, yet at the same time offending you.

"excuse me? i feel bad for all of the hearts that you've broken, these poor woman.." you said defending yourself and feeling pity for all of the females he hooked up with then just leave them feeling worthless, you glared at him as he started laughing, clearly not taking you seriously.

"please, they all know better that im not exactly into commitment. they know im not worth breaking their hearts. they just want to enjoy the ride, one night and nothing more."

"well, have fun with your new date." you said standing up and heading to the door. you heard enough from him, you had enough of him. you didn't care about him nor his sex life, then why did your eyes watered as you waddled to the exit?

"dont be so cold like that, im hurt!" he yelled, chuckling. that were the last words you heard from him before leaving the building.

why did the truth hurt? why did you care? why were you crying right now? your making messed up as you waited for your taxi to your apartment. yet deep down you knew that you're just as bad as he is, just as terrible as his actions; you thought as you rode the taxi driver, desperately needing a stress reliever.

the morning after yesterdays incident of bumping into eachother, you found yourself in bed with another man. was it the taxi driver? you thought, before leading him to the front door in only his boxers. the answer was positive. you kicked him iut of the house, before seeing that there's a package in front of your front door that he almost stepped on.

quickly picking it up and closing the door behind you, ignoring the taxis driver screams. you walked into your kitchen, looking for the scissors to open it. the package was medium size, not too small yet big enough to fit a cat.

you slowly, precisely opened the package not knowing whats inside. it didn't have a label on it, it could've been a bomb but you were met with a small box with a muffin from the cafe you were at yesterday, it was your favourite in fact and an small piece of paper that had something written on it.

"read your messages"

thats it? nothing more? just read your messages? you pulled out your phone to find 8 unread messages from kuni, 7 of the first ones were deleted, the latest one saying "sorry ig"

it was so stupid. then why did you caught yourself smiling at the sight? maybe you'll forgive him or maybe you've already forgave him.

if you were so mad at him then why did you talk with him the entire evening?

© 2024 iiotic. — do not steal, translate or repost any of my content onto any other platform

this is so cringe, might delete it later

[mrsarnold]

hi, im desperate for some juju smut😞🙏🏻 so if you write one, i'll be so happy

— im high as fuck probably stumbling ✩ juju w.

syn : you and juju broke up before sophomore year and at a party y'all are both at she gets high and things get heated

pair : high!juju watkins x ex!reader

warn : weed, drinking, sex, degradation, eating out ( r recieving ), strap on sex ( r recieving ), poorly written smur

note : welcome back smut

Bring it back by chris travis was blasting threw out the club as you sat on a couch in a corner. people were all dancing around as you just sat by yourself. your friends dragged you at for a night of fun after your break up. your previous relationship didn't end well and you were still butt hurt.

you were sipping on a strawberry daiquiri before you went to go get another. as you waited for your drink you smelt a familiar scent, the club was filled with scents but this one was different. all of the sudden you felt arms around you.

you were about to push the person away before you heard a voice that you did not wanna hear. "hey mama", the voice was raspy but offly familiar. you huffed, the relationship that didn't end well was with mrs juju watkins herself.

you took a deep breath before turning around, "what do you want juju?" you hated to admit it but she looked good as always. she had her hair pulled back into a low bun, black shirt with baggy jeans and those sunglasses you hated ( loved ).

"you", she said with a smirk. you thought she was kidding, boy she wasn't. you still hated her after everything that happened these past few days.

"what? no we're broken up", you said slightly pushing her away. that didn't stop her from coming back closer to you. she leaned in and whispered, "i hate you too but we both know you miss me."

your face was practically painted red, you were lost for words. she smirked and took that as sign and dragged you out the club.

thats how you ended it up here, laid out on her bed on your 6th organism.

juju was on her knees infront of you eatimg you out like it was her last meal. moans and whines filled the room, you couldn't remember the last time you came.

you felt the band in your stomach about the burst until you felt juju leave your body. you sat up giving her the 'what the fuck?' face. "gimme a second", was all she said before she disappeared in her closet.

you closed your eyes, you couldn't believe this was happening. you were deep into thoughy until you were interrupted with a slam into your cunt. you were about to yell 'what the fuck' until she covered your mouth and your eyes fluttered open.

juju was naked from the waist up with almost a ten inch strap attached to her. those last 5 minutes until your organism was the most wildest, twisted moments.

once you came down from your high juju plopped right next to you on the bed

"so do you still hate me?"

taggies :

@wbbgetsmewetter @hrtslaces @hrtsfromjules @kamii-2 @bueckersstrap @star-girl69 @cosmopretty @chelisbae @patscorner

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

party foul

pairing: ethan landry x female!reader

WC: 4K

warnings: cursing, sexual implications and poorly written intimacy (im so touch starved) mentions of guys being gross. should be all

summary: a frat party leds to more

A/N: something just possessed me cause i wrote this in one day, so if it sucks that explains everything.

@alecmores my editor💗

been in the drafts since march 14

masterlist

The music was bumping, the floors and the walls of the frat house shaking from the booming bass of the speakers playing party music. Everyone was talking or dancing in the crowded space, a red solo cup of whatever drink in hand or a Jell-O shot container being thrown to the ground. Couples were making out in dark corners, hands shamelessly running up their partner's costume and groping them or kissing their necks enough for hickeys to show later tomorrow.

You leaned against a door frame, red solo couple of jungle juice in hand. It was gross but was getting you wasted so that's all you cared about. Your head just bopping to the voices of Ke$ha or Megan Thee Stallion, your free arm wrapped over your stomach to cover the exposed skin as you just watched people in their drunken haze.

Your roommates decided to, and you quote, “get you out of your comfort zone and wear something slutty. Maybe you’ll get laid tonight.” So here you were at a frat party you didn’t really want to be at, with your ‘friends’ who disappeared a minute after arriving, dressed in a skimpy fairy outfit that was just lingerie with wings and nice makeup and braids added to your hair. You felt hot in the comfort of your college apartment, but the second you stepped outside it was like you were thrown to the wolves as prey.

So since your roommates ditched you, probably laughing about you or that’s just your paranoia thinking, you decided to scout the house and see if you can find your actual group of friends. They did say they were coming later tonight and to find them if you were free and you’ve been free for the past two and a half hours. With a push off the door frame, you bumped and scooted past jumpy dancers and touchy couples, trying and praying you’ll find someone to save you from your misery.

You made a pass of the room to the right of the front door and with no one you knew, you went to the room across and the sight of two people made you sigh out of relief. You couldn’t see one of the boys clearly but you were able to make out Chad since he was shirtless and wearing a cowboy hat. You walked over to the two and stood in front of them just as they took what looked to be a Jell-O shot, well only Chad swallowed, and Ethan spits it out right away with a grimace on his face. You couldn’t help but laugh at the action.

“Well, hello, sexy,” Chad yelled over the music. You knew he was being friendly, but the compliment made you feel warm.

You replied with a push to his bicep, “I’m not the only one showing skin tonight… cowboy.” A quick flick to the brim of his straw hat. Chad swatted your hand away before doing that signature cowboy stance, one hand on his belt and the other tipping his hat. You rolled your eyes at the action before turning on Ethan who stood with his back to the wall and his eyes wide with his mouth hanging open.

You’ve liked Ethan for a few months, so his gaping expression kinda sparked a bit of confidence in your chest if he was looking at you like that. You took a step closer to him and with your right hand snapped his jaw shut, “don’t wanna catch flies, handsome.” You stared deep into his eyes before a glance at his lips as he licked them with his tongue. “What’s your costume anyway? Very put together with just cardboard and tape though.” You waved your hand around at his ensemble.

“Oh!,” he looked down then back up, “it’s from a movie called Murder Party. Plus, I don’t have money to spend on an actual costume.” He bit his bottom lip and eyes darted from you to around the room, nervous.

“No, no. It’s cool though. I just haven’t seen the movie before,” you reassured him, “I didn’t even plan to do anything tonight, but my roommate, Anna, told me yesterday that I should do it then took me shopping with her. And that’s how I ended up in lingerie and spandex shorts for the night. Oh! And these wings, where the straps are digging into my armpits.” You moved the left strap at the end of your statement. Ethan just smiled and pulled his helmet off and fluffed his flat curls.

“So… enjoying the party?” Ethan leaned in close to your ear. His breath ghosting your skin caused a shudder and eyes to flutter shut. “Ye-yeah. Oh, yeah, really… I enjoy being eyed like a piece of meat.” Sarcastic but a hint of annoyance shone through.

You pulled and scratched your fingers as you looked around the room your trio was in, a group of girls in different costumes held cups and grooved to whatever new song shuffled on the playlist. Unconsciously, you stepped closer to Ethan, seeking safety from your crush.

“So, Chad,” you leaned towards him, his head turning your way, “have you struck out for the night? Or still looking at your options?” You jerked your chin over his shoulder where Tara wandered just out of sight, her wobbling state getting worse.

Chad sighed through his nose and rolled his neck, “it’s not like that.” You purse your lips and nodded, “yeah, yeah. Totally not like that. It’s just… it’s just getting kinda obvious.” Chad raised his brows and looked to Ethan then back to you, your smile slipping from your face. “Oh, totally obvious. Just like how you are wishing for e-” you smacked a hand over his blabber mouth and nervously giggled.

‘The Way I Are’ started blasting through the speakers and you took that as your opportunity to slip away from Chad and have Ethan’s attention. You moved away from Chad with a warning in your eyes and moved back closer to Ethan, your chest pressing against his cardboard. “You wanna dance? I love this song!” Hands-on his shoulders and lips ghosting the shell of his ear.

You saw the nod he gave as his answer, so you pulled away from his body and slid a hand into his, your fingers interlocked as you pulled him away from the wall and Chad, and led him to the crowded dance floor. He left his helmet behind so you got to see his face clearly and watched as his head of curls bounced as he moved around, stiffly, but was moving to the beat at least. With more people joining the floor and worried that you’ll lose Ethan, that was all, you took his hands and set them on your waist. It felt like those three-and-a-half cups of whatever was really making you feel a sudden boost of confidence, you felt sexy in your costume and you were dancing with the boy you’ve been wanting to kiss for the past four months, and also you made the move to have him closer and touch you. It was like everyone else was shut out as you looked into Ethan’s eyes, it was just the both of you holding each other, your heart beating loud in your ears. His hands tightened on your flesh, the smooth fabric of your top forming wrinkles, as he pulled you closer to him. Your arms moving to his shoulders as you push up your tiptoes to close the slight height difference.

One of your hands slowly moved from his shoulder and very hesitantly trying to see if he was showing discomfort, you let your fingers glide along his jawline. His lips parted and you took that as a good sign, so with your last bit of liquid courage, you leaned in with your eyes slipping shut just waiting to feel Ethan’s meld with yours.

But the moment was ruined by pushing and shoving. You groaned in your throat and opened your eyes to see a guilty-looking Chad holding his varsity jacket and Ethan’s helmet. He pushed the cardboard into the boy’s shoulder and looked at you, “Tara’s drunk.”

You quirked a brow at him, “and? It’s a party. What’s the pro-” “Some guy is trying to take her upstairs.” Chad interrupted your sentence. You instantly took off looking for your friend, making the boys follow behind like bodyguards with their height. You saw Mindy and Anika at the bottom of the stairs and you walked beside them to see Tara with a random frat body dressed in a button-down and boxers. His hand was wrapped along her bicep and you could see the thoughts swirling behind his darkened eyes.

“Tara, why don’t we get you home, huh? You could use some sleep.” You went up a step with a hand out hoping she would take it and join you. But she just looked at you and then at the guy, it broke your heart that she would rather be with someone she didn’t know than her friends.

“You wanna come up for a drink too, hot stuff?” The guy spoke up with his eyes glued on your body, mostly your chest and you felt yourself shrink in, but stood your ground, “fuck off. How about you take your hand off my friend and leave us be, yeah?” You heard the waiver but the music covered your nerves.

He rolled his eyes at you, “don’t gotta be such a bitch. Just thought you would want to enjoy a good time with me and your friend.” And he took a sip from his cup.

Now you are fed up. You ripped his hand away from Tara and smacked him across the face. You heard faint gasps but ignored them as you walked behind Tara and back to your friends, but you got pulled back with a harsh force causing you to slip and fall on the steps.

The next few things happened too fast. Chad yanked the guy by his shirt off the stairs and pushed the douchebag in the chest and the two started shoving, Ethan walked over and wrapped his arms around your waist, and pulled you close to him as Mindy and Anika shouted at Chad. And then to top it off, Sam showed up out of nowhere and tased the guy in the balls.

-

Your little group left the frat after the disaster. Mindy and Anika were near the back with their hands linked, Anika now wearing Ethan’s helmet as he wore her orange bucket hat, cute. You, Chad, and Ethan walked in front of them and Sam was chasing after Tara who wasn’t the happiest with her sister.

“So, you're stalking me now, is that it?” She spun on her heal and faced Sam. Her arms lay limply at her sides as she wore an annoyed expression. Sam stopped just a foot away and was trying to get Tara to understand.

You turned away from the scene knowing you weren’t involved with the sisterly bickering. You turned to Ethan who was already looking at you, he seemed to have a worried air about him. You looked to the happy couple in the back and saw Chad chatting with them, their eyes flicking your way before they saw you looking already. You breathed a laugh with a roll of your eyes, of course, Chad was gossiping about earlier.

“Hey,” Ethan’s gentle voice said, “are- are you okay? You didn't get hurt on the stairs? No- no bruising or anything?” He stood close.

You pushed a braid behind your ear, “uh, just- I just think my ass is sore. But no- no the idiot didn’t hurt me, just made me uncomfortable. But hey! I’m just glad to be out of there, and with friends, would have sucked walking home alone.” You rubbed your arms along your biceps to try and build some warmth into your body to keep the cool night air at bay.

“I can- I can help if you want… keep you warm.” The stuttering of his words caused stuttering in your heart. “Please, that would be a help.” He opened his arms and you stepped into them, arms and hands over your shoulder and touching your back as you wrapped your own over the chest plate and squeezed him tight, with your face hidden away.

The moment was once again ruined too soon as you started to hear yelling. You pulled away and saw Chad and Anika holding Sam back from a group of passing girls who were recording and shouting, “Murderer! We know what you did!”

You loosened your hold on Ethan and looked their way, “Fuck you!” You started to head their way but Ethan kept you close to his chest. His hands on your arms.

Something strong was in that jungle juice. You needed a walk or something to sober up. You feared the possible headache to come tomorrow morning.

The both of you walked to Sam who looked down at her soaked white sweater, along with a few sticky black strands near her face, “assholes,” she muttered as she wrung out her shirt. Tara rolled her eyes and started to walk away, Chad following then Mindy and Anika just behind. Ethan patted his pockets down before digging out tissues.

“I have some tissues… I only have like three tissues,” he handed the squares over to Sam who just looked at the boy and then at you. You bid Sam a good night and pulled the boy along with you in the direction of the college apartments.

“Ah, shit!”  You exclaimed as you patted yourself down, not finding what you were searching for.

“What?”

“I don’t have the key to my place and I think my phone is dead at this point. They're probably still at the party…” you trailed off into thought, trying to determine your next move.

“You could… you could stay with me. Only if you want… I would just feel better if- if I knew you were okay and safe.” He pulled at his ear. You watched the boy and how could you say no when this was the first time things were going your way?

“I would love to stay with you, only if you’re okay with it.” You stepped closer. His eyes flicked over your face and a smile peeked through, “I’m- I’m perfectly okay with it.” You nodded with a smile and the both of you headed off into the cool night air, small conversation to past the time.

-

When Ethan opened the door to his and Chad’s dorm you expected the stereotypical college boy rooms from movies. Clothes scattered on the floor, and trash overflowing, maybe even a bong in a hidden corner from the RAs. There were two nicely made beds with each side having its organized desk with textbooks and notebooks, a backpack at the foot of one bed, and one hanging off the back of the uncomfortable chairs. You couldn’t exactly tell which side was which but you went on instinct and chose the one with the backpack on the floor.

You bent down to untie your sneakers and slip them under the twin bed then followed with your cheap wings causing a sigh of relief. Now the rest of your outfit was a problem, you couldn't remove your makeup and properly clean your face and you lost your hair tie somewhere in the last few hours. Technically you could sleep in your outfit, but this isn’t the time for sexiness.

“Ethan, could I borrow a shirt or hoodie?” Your elbows leaned into the hard mattress behind you as you twisted to face a motionless Ethan that just stared at you. “Ethan? You okay?”

He blinked rapidly, “yeah, yeah! Sorry just… just- I’ve never had a girl in my room, not to mention a pretty girl.” He looked shocked that he just said those words aloud, “uh sorry, what did you say… earlier?”

You bit your lip to stop the smile and pulled your earlob, “A shirt or hoodie… I don’t really wanna sleep in-” you pointed a finger at your sheer top. “Right! Yeah, just- just one second.” He turned his back to you.

You let the flush in your cheeks grow and couldn’t withhold the gigantic smile, completely infatuated with the nervous boy before you. You gazed as he rummaged through his clothes and muttered words to himself that you couldn’t hear but just watched as his lips moved. When he stood back to his full height something in you stirred and you wanted to follow that feeling.

Ethan placed the folded shirt beside you on the bed and stood in front of you, his head tilted down and yours pointed up. Your eyes just watched each other, taking in every detail about each other tonight, watching Ethan’s body language to see if there was an opening for you. Ethan took a step forward, just a step away from letting his body fold into yours.

You saw how he slowly brought his right hand up, it seemed he was debating if he wanted to make this move or not, but when he cupped your cheek your lips parted. His thumb swiped the skin just under your eye before letting his hand slip down, his pinky hitting the junction of your jaw and earlobe. His eyes dipped to your lips and then he brushed the pad of his thumb just over your bottom lip, barely giving the skin a tug before resting the digit on your chin.

“Ethan?” You whispered his name so quietly it was like you didn’t say it, but you saw his eyes move. “Please,” a whimper as you closed your eyes and gripped his biceps. You couldn’t wait much longer and he didn’t make a move. So you’ll take the jump for the both of you, but you didn’t have to. He took the final leap.

It was soft, gentle. Just a pressing of lips, nothing more at first, and you were fine with it, it was still perfect to you. His hand on your cheek and your hold on his muscles kept you from floating to cloud nine. Ethan pulled away and you chased his lips, needing to deepen it, pour all your love and wanting into his skin. You pulled him back to you, tilting your head to get a better angle and more movement from your lips. He held your waist, hands under the thin fabric, and his burning touch warmed your cooled skin as he rubbed his thumb on your flesh.

Then his hands slipped down and under your thighs, and you jumped automatically and he sat you atop the light blue bedding. You widened your legs and grabbed his shirt with one hand to pull him closer in your gravity. With the new height you started to kiss around his mouth then jaw and down his neck, beginning to leave sensual kisses that were followed by sucking and maybe a faint bite pulling a groan from Ethan. You soothed over any markings with your tongue and a peck. You did it a few more times before he pulled your face back to his and he dived back in.

When Ethan started to kiss along your jaw and near your ear, you moaned at the sensation, hands tangling in his curls and nails scraping his scalp and he hummed at the feeling, it tickled your skin.

“E- Ethan, do- do you wanna- wanna go all the way or- or wait?” Ethan implied this was his first time doing anything, you wanted to do it on his terms and how he was feeling about this. “I’m completely fine w- with just making out an- and sleeping.” You weren’t even sure why you brought up sex. Maybe the leftover drunken-haze was making you a bit horny.

One more kiss to your jawline and his face reappeared. He was flushed and his lips were glossy, it was a delicious sight to behold. You giggled as you swiped a smear of saliva away from his mouth. You just waited to hear his thoughts, legs mindlessly swinging over the high bed. Fingers twisted in the hem of his shirt from earlier in the night, knuckles ghosting over his exposed skin.

“I… I- ah. I- I wanna do it. Sex- I wanna have sex with you.” He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, his wording almost like a middle schooler. You smiled around your tongue as it poked out. “Ethan,” you pulled his chin between your thumb and index finger, “if you are not one hundred percent sure about having sex tonight, we don’t need to. I’ve waited for you for months, I could wait a little longer for some intimate action.” You wiggled your brows to let Ethan loosen up. His brightened smile that showed his dimple made you fall faster. “Besides, I don’t think I would last very long before passing out.”

You gave a simple smooch to his nose then grabbed his shirt, “turn around. Only when we have sex can you see all this whenever.” “Really?” He didn’t bother hiding the tiny bit of disappointment in his word, but you just snorted at his puppy dog eyes, “no. I was just giving you the chance to be a proper gentleman before a lady, but whatever. You’ll see everything eventually.” You pulled the top off and Ethan’s eyes widened before he covered with his hands and turned around.

-

You tried shuffling around in bed to get back to a comfortable spot, but arms held tight along your torso kept you pulled into a solid chest. You started to panic until you looked over your shoulder and saw a head of brunette curls with the suspect's face buried into your neck. A lazy smile came across your features as you closed your eyes again and rested a palm over Ethan’s forearms, fingers moving back and forth slowly. The feeling of his chest moving as he breathed could have lulled you back to sleep if you didn’t feel the puff of air hitting your neck and hear the bedding move as he shifted around.

You managed to turn in his hold so you were facing him with your back leaning against the wall. Very gentlemanly of him sleeping near the edge, a simple green flag in your eyes. You pushed a few rouge curls away from his forehead, fingers leaving a small trail of phantom kisses in their morning wake before dropping to his chest. You watched as his lashes fluttered atop his cheekbones, how he had a few sparse freckles dotting his face here and there, noting that his lips are slightly parted when in deep sleep.

He looked so beautiful.

He moved his face to the crook of your neck, his nose giving a small rub. You sunk a hand into his hair and began messaging, he instantly groaned at the action. “Good morning,” a kiss to his temple. A kiss to your jaw, “good morning,” and his morning voice was oh so deep and gravelly.

“I should… I should probably head back to my place. Need a shower.” You patted his arms. He just groaned and moved his legs into yours.

“Could shower here.” “I need a shower shower, with all my stuff. Not a water shower most boys do… you do shower shower, right? Please say yes because you do and not just for me.”

Ethan laughed at your question, “yes, yes. I shower shower, I have good hygiene.”

“Okay. With that out of the way, I really should head back.” You tried sitting up but Ethan’s arms were holding you down and you just laughed at his antics. “Ethan come on. Don’t you want me to smell good? After last night I probably reck of sweat and alcohol.”

“No, you smell nice. Really nice.” And he did a big theatrical inhale as you laughed at the sound. “Okay weirdo, you’ve got me for another hour.” And you got yourself situated again.

After fifteen minutes of quiet, your eyes started to droop and you let yourself be pulled back to sleep, but before you could be submerged, the door banged open, and Chad waltzed in before stumbling to a stop. You jerked your head up, Ethan almost fell over the edge at the interruption, and you scrambled for a firm hold on him. The both of you just stared at Chad and then at Mindy who was staring down at her phone.

“I haven’t been able to reach-” “It’s because she’s right here. In bed. With Ethan.”

Both twins had bug eyes and open mouths pointed at the two of you. Ethan leaned over you a bit to shield you even though you were wearing his shirt and your shorts from last night, and the blanket was still covering you. You held his bicep as you rested your chin on his shoulder.

“What brings the Wonder Twins around?” You waited to hear something sarcastic or just the both of them being jokingly mean towards you and Ethan, but both had somber faces. You sat up higher, heart racing as they took longer and shared a look.

“Ghost face,” was all Mindy said.

...

[tethered-heartstrings]

Something i could never understand is...why do people want Jack to die???

Jack is an obstacle plenty of times and is sort of flippant about Will's state of mind in the beginning, but in all fairness he was trying to stop a MURDERER and I could see how he would value saving lives over Will's health. (Not saying it was right of him, but I get it. And Alana does rightfully chew him out to a point.)

Its clear he just assumes that Will not wanting to be involved im the mass murders is a natrual response to seeing all of that stuff, Jack has no idea that Will and Hannibal are having murder husband fantasy dates until the later seasons. Which in all fairness, he has a right to be concerned about lol

People villainize Jack for a lot of reasons, and only want to see the bad in him. People hate him because he's a cop (okay, so is Will, and everyone else on the team for that matter but only seems to apply to Jack?), because he didn't take care of Will's mental instability/deterioration (as if Will isn't a grown man who should/could stand up for himself and admit to Jack when he isn't doing well), because he was "too dumb to see Will was Very Obviously Ill" (as if we the audience don't get special privileges on what happens behind closed doors and Jack is just supposed to read minds), because he was a criminal investigator "too dumb to not see it was Hannibal all along" (as if Hannibal didn't manipulate literally everyone in his vicinity to make himself look normal and stable and safe and trustworthy), because he "doesn't care about Will" (as if this wasn't literal manipulation Hannibal whispered to Will during his mental breakdown to drive a wedge between him and Jack), because he isn't perfect and he isn't allowed to be flawed, and tbh a big factor of it is racism. and many more reasons.

Of course Jack has flaws, that's what being a human being is. Everyone on the show has faults, but people focus and amplify only the characters they don't like. Hannibal, and to be honest Will also, are literally right there in the same frame and are horrible people, who have done so much worse than Jack. But people don't want to be critical of their faves. Hannibal fans often also have like, main character specific lens so only their favorites are talked about highly and everyone else is dragged through the mud (Jack, Alana, even Abigail) and are not allowed to be seen as a multifaceted character. (admittedly, the women on the show are very poorly written which can contribute to this for the female characters of the show but I digress)

Jack genuinely wants to do something good, he wants to save lives, and he wants to so badly he can get horseblinders on and focus too much on the end goal and not on the path itself. That isn't evil though. He does care about Will, and in a very dad-like way he wants what is best for him but it isn't entirely through Will's lens ir his best interest. He trusted that Will would talk to him, and Will didn't. Like sure he hinted the job wasn't good for him and it was affecting him but that isn't specifically saying "hey Jack, I have headaches that won't go away, I can't sleep, I am sleepwalking, I am losing time, I am scared. Help me." Yeah, looking at horribly mutilated bodies all day isn't good for anyone. He tried to get Will genuine help, by setting him up with a well-renowned psychiatrist per someone else's recommendation. He tried, but Hannibal didn't do his job. He lied to Jack saying Will was fine, rubberstamped him sane. What is Jack supposed to do? Call him a liar? A well respected professional in the field? Be real. And to your point, again, Will never said how bad he actually was, so it makes sense Jack is doing his job and prioritizing saving lives.

Jack also didn't want to believe Will was guilty. The evidence was piled so high against him they eclipsed the sun. Jack is smart, his entire job is finding evidence to lead to a conclusion. He can't just suddenly turn a blind eye because it's Will. Jack was willing to risk his career to help him, a career that took decades and immense hard work to achieve. He then trusted Will and Will betrayed him. He wanted to trust in him until the very end. People get mad at Jack for not trusting Will but then call him dumb for trusting him later like lol what the fuck do you want?

Jack also knows when he messed up. He lives with the guilt of Miriam going missing forever, he knows he fucked up and makes it a point not to make that mistake again. He isn't careless. He cares for the people he works with. You could see it in his face how devastated he was when Beverly died, when Will was arrested. Even thinking about Miriam. There is a tenderness in him being the one to take off Will's mask and straight jacket, as an act of humanizing Will and saying "I trust you".

Jack is also a good husband who loved his wife. Yes, his job kept him away from home a lot, but Bella isn't dumb and she knew what his job entailed. He took care of her as best as he could. He wanted to do anything to support her after her cancer diagnosis, he was always in her corner. Of course he wanted her to do chemotherapy, of course he didn't want her to die. He didn't want to lose the love of his life and traverse the world alone, his most trusted and longtime support system gone. He broke the law to smoke weed with her and join her, and be a part of her care and comfort. And in the end, he did the hardest thing by letting her go so she wasn't in pain anymore. It wasn't passive, it wasn't that she died and he just watched. He pushed the plunger to give her peace. He is a human being capable of compassion and love and care.

People forget we have the audience view, so we see Hannibal being manipulative and murdering, and we see Will wake up from nightmares covered in sweat and sleepwalking. But the characters in the show aren't us! They only see what is in front of them or told to them. And they act like if they weren't in the same shoes they wouldn't do the exact same stuff.

To put it shortly, Jack is a complex and flawed character, as is literally everyone on the show and people in real life. He genuinely tries his best and wants to do good things in the world. He is sooo far from the worst character on the show (I argue he might be the most morally stable and centered) but is made out to be the worst person ever, when he isn't. He doesn't deserve to die, and he doesn't deserve to be murdered. He deserves a nice, peaceful, retirement (or vacation, not sure he could stay away tbh especially now that Bella has died) and to be left the fuck alone.

[dalliesque]

'그만 집어치워 고민 같은 거'

Angel Or Devil — Tomorrow By Togheter

✴ ꒰ 𝗧 𝗕𝗬 𝗧 ꒱ sypnosis in which the whole uni shipped her boyfriend with someone unknown, forced to keep the relationship a secret out of force. will she do justice to herself and reveal the daunting truth? or would she stand there and watch as her lifeline slowly fade away from her?

꒰ png ' sungho × fem!reader, smau, written, fluff fluff, silly, slight angst. cw ' curse words, reader is a bit dumb, some parts might be toxic to people contents : 13 attachments. wc ' very long (me and my laptop gave up at counting the words srry), semi-proofread! ꒱

⌗ 雨曦 talks ୨ৎ i want grammarly dead, that shit messes up my writing and proceed to call it grammar. like gtfo 😃🔪

content under the cut!

Y/N had been counting the days since Danielle, Minji's best friend, had sent her that text. It felt like an eternity had passed, yet the sting of the message still lingered. She regretted agreeing to Danielle's request, but she couldn't explain why she had done it in the first place. She still wonders why she made that decision, but she finds it hard to answer her own question. However, it was too late to change anything now. Y/N couldn't even tell Danielle the truth about her relationship with Sungho without hurting Minji. Guilt is consuming her every day, but she chooses to keep quiet for the sake of Minji's happiness, she couldn't bear the thought of making Minji sad. Y/N didn't want to be the reason someone didn't get to experience the same love she had. She was a people-pleaser, and it was something she couldn't help.

Sungho was far from dumb. He could sense that his lover was slowly but surely slipping away from him. He was bewildered and demanded answers. Why was she drifting away from him? Had he done something wrong? Was she annoyed with him and giving him the cold shoulder? None of it made sense to him. He had not acted poorly in recent days, and you started ignoring him on that day, the day where #mingho was created. Sungho finally wrapped his mind around it. He wonders if your behavior towards him was driven by jealousy. Did you deliberately ignore him for that reason? But you weren't the type to be jealous over a stupid Twitter hashtag right? Well technically the whole uni are aware about this #mingho shenanigans.. Great, he messed up.

Sungho pants as he takes a breather finally catching up to you. He calls out, trying to get your attention. You removed one of the earplugs blocking your hearing as you turn around, taking a look at him. "Sungho?"

Sungho's face is pale, and he looks like he has seen a ghost. You hurriedly hand him a bottle of water from your bag, him drinking it in one go. Seeing him finishing the drink you spoke again, "You know you shouldn't call me pet names around the university. People will know we're datin—"

chuu!!

before you can finish your sentence, Sungho cuts you off in a chaste kiss, him slowly pulling away with a smug look on his face.

"Sungho!" you hit his shoulders right after your brain finishes registering what he just did.

"What?" he replies, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Get lost."

Sungho smiles sweetly and intertwines his hand with yours.

"How could you get rid of this beauty?" he gives you a wink, a teasing smile visible on his face.

"Narcissistic bitch" you mutter jokingly at him, giving him the side eye before cracking to giggles.

"Tch, Jealousy is a disease"

"shit" a curse leaves your lips upon seeing the notification.

"something wrong?" sungho eyed eyed you worriedly, before diverting his attention back to stirring the meal on the stove.

"it's nothing"

"you sure?"

"im sure" you gave him a small smile, thinking of a way on how to reply to the message.

"100% sure yeah?" sungho asks one more time in a more lively tone this time.

you chuckle assuring him one more time "100% sure love"

"okay... if you say so" sungho's rest his hand on his hip, focusing on the meal.

"sungho babe?" you ask him, waiting for a response from the latter.

"yes love?" sungho turn around showing you a comforting smile.

"hmm do you recon seeing anyone when you met me this morning?"

"well .."

...

"i think so?"

"who is it" you tilt your head unknowingly, curious on who watched both of your lovey dovey moments earlier in the day.

".. minji ..?"

"minji.." you repeats his words to yourself, gathering yourself togheter.

"everything alright love?" sungho turns off the stove, making his way to you carresing your cheeks softly.

you nod your head, quickly changing the topic.

"Let's just talk about something else"

"you took a picture of me when i was asleep???!!!" sungho gasp dramatically, covering his mouth with a hand.

"yups and i just uploaded it!" you beam proudly, showing him your phone.

"oh you're soo done!" sungho hurriedly opens his phone, opening twitter instantly forming an evil payback.

"ehh.. babe i think you should, umm open your twitter..." sungho chuckles loudly, watching you open your phone.

"huh?" your thumb hover over the application's logo as the red icon indicating notifications continue to add its numbers.

'so many notifications ..'

and you clicked it. regretting every single second of it.

"oh my goodness sungho!"

sungho let out a fit of giggle, pinching your cheek "yes i know.."

"what should i do..!" you whine, burying your face deeper into his chest.

"just.. accept it..?" he spoke before his chest was meet with your fist.

"ow! hey you, that's mean!"

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ join the gang here + ꒰ 𝗧 𝗕𝗬 𝗧 ꒱ ⋅ ⋅ my library ୨ৎ

୭ ˚. my loves @lilacgyuvin ⋅ ⋅ @hyunhanie ⋅ ⋅ @keii-starz ⋅ ⋅ @starryriize ⋅ ⋅

[incorrect-riordanverse]

It's really disheartening that Rick Riordan stance on the war I understand that he wants to be neutral on this stance but in my opinion by becoming neutral he only worsening the issue as many Palestines are dying that are mostly children, how the majority of Israeli are supporting the Genocide of Palestine, and how the government is trying so hard (but miserably failing) to justified the genocide. I will hold him accountable for what he said on this issue as during this period the choice is basically "you are with us or against us."

Part of me wishes he will realize what he said was wrong and understand the bigger issue that plays at hand. I will criticism for his actions as how can a man who promotes LGBTQIA and representation of minorities and disabilities in his books turn a blind eyes to Genocide of people. However we can only wait and see on his next move.

One last thing about your previous you said you don't group Riordan with other authors where do you would group him with? Also this is more on an opinion base answer but many people are boycotting companies that support Israel there as been another post on Twitter on boycotting authors. Rick Riordan happens to be one of them. Do you believed that he should be boycotted with other authors or he should be properly educated and apologized for his previous statement? If you believed he should be boycotted what do tou have to say to those who might have the mentality of "separate the art from the artist"

thank you for this ask, and i completely agree with you! it is extremely hypocritical of him considering what he preaches for in his books. i think he’s convinced he has properly addressed the apartheid by using very vague language that can be applied to anything, and in doing so, he’s addressed nothing really.

your first question on who i would group him with— probably other authors who are doing the exact same as him in their virtue signalling. i always like to link my other blogs to each other, so i don’t think it’s a secret that i have a red queen account and i’m pretty passionate about that. unfortunately, victoria aveyard is another fantasy author who has literally wrote a whole four-book series on the uprising against oppression but is now playing neutral in her address of the apartheid. rebecca yarros is in the same boat, although i haven’t read ‘fourth wing,’ fans have said there are large themes of oppression within the book. so if i had to group riordan it would probably be in the ‘i-like-to-write-about-it-for-profit-and-praise-only’ group.

in terms of boycotting, i think that’s a great idea! i would also like to remind everyone that the percy jackson tv show is coming out in a little over a month, but disney is a huge industry financially supporting israel as well ($2 million in funding), which is obviously far more damning than a poorly written address by one person. there is a boycott happening for disney as well— and the pjo show will be released on disney + . i implore everyone to not watch it on that platform!! personally i will be pirating it online (idk if i’ll get into trouble saying that here but lol oh well), because im pretty sure the boycott is only for withdrawing financial support, not simply consuming media.

i feel like separating art from the artist only works if that artist is… like, dead, and you’re using that art and its values as a historical insight to how the world was during its time. you can still like a piece of work that has a problematic artist, you can engage with the work (to an extent). but separating art from the artist barely works because either:

to engage with the art is to support the artist in some way, so that artist is making money based on your interaction with that (particularly in the case for singers and streaming of songs)

that artists’ views and values are so rancid that it’s literally embedded within the text itself. to ignore it is harmful.

harry potter is my all-time favourite example to use, because jkr is the scum of the earth, and her views are entrenched in her work. a lesser known example is sarah j maas and her books (she’s also not as dogshit as jkr, but then again, its not hard to be a better person than her). i’m not going to bag on these people for liking things by problematic people (would be hypocritical of me), i just think it’s cowardly not to address it when you come across it, or at least admit to it. to simply write things off as ‘separate to the artist’ is like purposefully turning off your critical thinking skills.

on whether boycotting or an apology is enough— if riordan did apologise and used specific language and not the nonsense he had in that blog, expressed his remorse for his ignorance and then actually did or said something to support the people of palestine then, yeah. that’s fine and that’s how we learn ig. but he should educate himself, too many activists, people from the arab community and especially palestinians are expected to be all-knowing and to educate everyone else on an already draining and personal tragedy. it’s been exhausting for me, i can’t imagine what they’re going through. if riordan (or anyone) needs to be educated, he should do it himself, and (at least in my opinion) i don’t think the info is very hard to find now. it’s just about weeding out the misinformation.

i think boycotting is a good idea as of now. it can serve to be a catalyst for self reflection for many people. also, as much as i hate most online discourses, talking about it online needs to happen. i don’t want these authors to forget, for a moment, about the ignorance they posted online during a time of international crisis.

[todayisawthewhxlewxrld]

"are you longing, is it Killing Time?"

"if i’m honest, think i want it. no more talking, no more nonsense."

synopsis// you work at a ballet studio and suna works at the karate dojo next door.

pairing// rintaro suna x gn!reader

word count// 3.9k

contents// ooc suna? idk he's like kinda smug in this... ive never written for him before so heed my warning. slight enemies to lovers but like kinda not really. osamu's obligatory accent. plot kinda speaks for itself i have no other warnings besides the fact that this kinda (majorly) sucks...

requested// by an anon!! im SO sorry this took me so long to write!!

notes// i know i said id never write for haikyuu again but i lied ok? take it. do what you will with this. sorry if this is all over the place... i feel very out of my element writing for haikyuu again LMFAO. also if anything mentioned about karate or ballet is wrong sorry!! i took ballet ONCE and taken karate never xoxo tbh i think the plot probably wouldve worked better as an smau but im not doin all that (respectfully.) anywho this was also inspired by killing time by movements (TOOOO GOOODDDDD)

Classical music and the whispers of the kids eight-counting their steps echo throughout the room. Everything is peaceful and as it should be... That is, until the mirror walls begin to vibrate violently from the sudden blaring of music from the studio next to yours. All the kids turn to look at you, confused about what’s happening, and you flash them a small apologetic smile.

“You guys keep practicing, okay? I'm gonna go next door and ask them to turn it down.” 

Satisfied with your guidance, they nod, and you quickly walk out. Though not comfortable leaving a bunch of children unsupervised, you leave your studio door open to make sure that you’re still able to hear them from outside. You sigh before walking into the next studio; frankly, you had gotten this far without having to interact with anyone else, and you just wished it would stay that way. Neither the kids nor their instructor seem to notice your presence. And even though you clear your throat, no one hears you.

“Excuse me!” 

Suddenly all heads are turning toward you, and you reflexively dig your feet into the floor to stop yourself from running back out. Their instructor waves the kids off, having them go back to practicing whatever karate move he had just taught them before walking up to you.

"Can I help you?” he says, his eyes boring into yours.

And suddenly. Suddenly, you hate him. Or, at the very least, strongly dislike him. He blasts his music, knowing damn well the walls are thin, and then has the audacity to give you attitude?

“Are you gonna say something, or are you just gonna stand there all day?” He stops and briefly looks you up and down, a small smirk playing on his face. "Actually, I wouldn’t mind that.”

Your jaw clenches, giving him the nicest smile you very well could muster. “Can you turn down your music? It’s distracting my kids.”

He hums and appears to consider it for a moment, and you're almost grateful—almost, because then he has to open his stupid mouth again.

“Maybe if you say please.”

Your eye twitches. "Okay, you know what? Nevermind." You glance over at his students briefly, making sure they aren't looking at the two of you, and when you confirm that they aren't, you flip him off, and all he does is laugh. You groan, and if you could slam his studio door shut without the glass shattering, you would.

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

To no one’s surprise, he didn't stop playing his music at full volume—he claimed it pumped the kids up, and sure, maybe it did, but all it did was distract your own. And eventually, you two somehow fell into a game of who could play whose music louder. Considering your music consisted of different ballet numbers, it's safe to say he always won.

Week after week, you'd show up in his studio and ask him to just turn his music off, to lower the volume, to do something other than drive you crazy, but all he'd do was poorly flirt and smirk, his eyes always on you one way or another, and if you weren't so annoyed by him, you’re sure you would have found him captivating. It's not surprising when one day he’s the one showing up at your studio—you're actually excited about it, thinking that maybe, just maybe, he’s finally given up and is here to apologize. When you approach him and find all his students outside behind him, you quickly realize that's not the case. You glance between him and the kids.

“You guys go in and make friends, yeah?” You say as you move out the way to allow his students into your studio. You wait until they're all inside before stepping out and closing the door behind you. You whisper harshly, “What the fuck do you want?”

"Wow, you use that kind of language around your students?” He asks, his smirk all too evident on his face as he crosses his arms.

You stare at him blankly, no amusement etched on any of your features, and he awkwardly clears his throat.

“Our studio flooded.”

“Okay… What does that have to do with me?"

His shoulders slump as he groans. "Oh, c’mon.”

“How am I supposed to know what you want if you won't use your words like a big boy?” you ask, arms crossed and eyebrows raised.

He glares at you, and for once, it seems like you're the one getting under his skin. “Fuck you.”

You mockingly tut and shake your head. "Wow, you use that kind of language around your kids?”

He stands there and kicks at the sidewalk, clearly having some internal debate you don’t care enough to ask about, but he tells you anyway.

“Would you… be willing to share your studio with us until they fix our studio?”

Without missing a beat, you laugh. “Yeah no. I don't even know your name... What if you're some serial killer?”

“First of all, it's Rintaro Suna. Second of all, do you really think they would hire me to work around kids if I was a serial killer?”

You shrug. You don’t care about the logistics; you just don’t want him in your studio.

“And third of all, seriously?” He crosses his arms, and his tone is full of the kind of disappointment you'd only find in a friend who’s been betrayed—not in between two strangers who’ve done nothing but “fight” about music for weeks on end.

“Yes seriously. Can’t you find a new studio?”

“Owner says it’s more expensive to do that than fix whatever got fucked up.”

“Then find someone else to share with,” you say as you turn to walk back into your studio.

Suna grabs your wrist, and as you look over your shoulder at him, he pouts. "Are you really gonna take this out on the kids just because you hate me?”

You stare at him blankly, but the more you think about it and let what he’s said sink in, the softer your face becomes, and suddenly your conviction is nowhere to be found—just another leaf blown away in the wind. “How did your studio flood?”

Happy with how you don’t seem like you're about to escape off into your studio anymore, Suna lets go of your wrist and starts explaining, “Well, one kid clogged the toilet and the other left the sink running.”

“Deserved,” you say through a snort.

“Whatever. Are you gonna share or not?”

“Fine,” you sigh. "But I swear to god, Suna, the second you piss me off or don’t listen, I'm kicking your ass out. This is still my studio.”

"Technically, it’s not even yours.”

You stare at him blankly, eyes narrowed, and Suna can immediately tell you’re already thinking about taking back your offer of letting him stay in your studio.

He coughs awkwardly. "I'll shut up now.” 

“Good choice.”

A beat passes between the two of you just staring at each other, and when Suna realizes you won't say anything more, he takes the initiative.

Tilting his head at you, he asks, "So, are you gonna tell me your name now?”

You continue staring at him blankly.

"Oh, cmon, we’re gonna be sharing a studio now.”

“It's Y/n L/n.”

"Well, Y/n,” he says, somewhat dragging out your name before teasing, "I always knew you had a soft spot for me.”

"I have a soft spot for the kids, not you,” you correct him, crossing your arms.

“Keep telling yourself that,” he says, brushing your shoulder with his as he walks past you and into your studio.

“Don’t just walk into my studio like you own it?!" you call out, following after him.

“Not your studio, and you don’t own it either.”

“You know what I mean, Suna!”

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

It's almost scary how easily Suna and his students fit into your class. It didn’t even take a week for you to feel like having him in your studio was natural—how it should have always been. You hated how any ill-will you had toward him would suddenly vanish into thin air whenever you saw him interact with his or your students. You grew accustomed to your new routine with him.

Every other day, he could play his music and even teach some of your students some karate if they so desired, and vice versa. He’d bring you breakfast, and you'd bring him lunch, and sometimes the two of you would even go have dinner once all your students had left. You hated how he just wiggled his way into your life. You’re supposed to hate him—he used to play his music as loud as he could just to piss you off, and now you have dinner with him practically every day.

You’ve grown so fond of him that now, two months later, about to be three, you've completely forgotten why he’s here in the first place—that his residence in your studio is only temporary, and he’s just here till his studio is fixed. You’ve forgotten all about it because now you look forward to seeing him and actually want to see him more than you've ever wanted anything else before. and he feels the exact same because here he is, slumped in a chair in the back of the room, frowing as he watches his and your students combined because you’re not here.

The door swings open, and Suna can't help but let out a sigh of relief, practically jumping out of his seat, ready to go run and spin you in his arms like some shitty rom-com, only to find that it wasn't you who walked in; nope, it was just his friend. Suna’s face falls as he drops back into his chair with a groan.

“Okay, lovely to see ya too,” Osamu snorts as he walks over to Suna, taking the seat next to him.

He weakly tries pushing Osamu out of the chair, mumbling, “That’s Y/n’s seat.”

"Well, they aren't here, are they?”

Suna scowls at him but gives up trying to push him out nonetheless.

“Where are they anyway?”

“Running late, I guess.”

Osamu hums in response, and a comfortable silence falls over them. The only noise in the room was the kids whispering their next move to themselves or helping their friend with something. Suna watches them intently, with the care and attention of someone handling glass, and quickly finds a few students who need help.

"Hey, keep your leg straight when you kick,” he calls out to one of his students before turning to one of yours, “And you bend your knees more when you do your... uh-“ 

"Plié," the child supplies for him.

Suna nods. "Yeah, that whatever.”

Osamu doesn't know whether he should laugh at or side-eye Suna. “Do ya not know their names?”

"I don’t get paid enough to know their names.”

He shakes his head, deciding that commenting on that is not worth his time, and instead goes to why he came here in the first place. "I'm surprised yer still here, to be honest.”

"A job is a job.”

"No, I mean in this studio. I figured the repairs in yer’s would be finished by now; it’s been like, what? almost three months?”

Suna mumbles a slow, drawn-out, “…yeah.”

Osamu sits up straight, shifting in his seat to face Suna entirely. “What the fuck was that?”

“Don’t cuss in front of the kids; what’s wrong with you?" He reprimands, slapping Osamu’s arm.

“Don’t change the subject.”

"I'm not; I'm just saying.”

Osamu rolls his eyes. "Okay, well, start by saying what’s up with the repairs.”

He does not. “Y/n will be back soon; you should leave.”

“Suna,” Osamu monotones.

"If I tell you, will you leave?”

“What did ya do, Suna?”

Suna looks away as he embarrassedly mumbles, “The repairs could’ve been done a long, long time ago…”

“What?!” Osamu practically shrieks as he sits up straight. “What do ya mean?!”

Suna glares at Osamu before looking toward the kids, whose attentions were caught by Osamu yelling and waving them off. “Ignore him.”

“Oh my god, have ya been stalling the repairs?” He asks, this time quietly. “Why would ya do that?”

“Why do you think, Osamu?”

Suna’s attitude does nothing to deter Osamu, not when he’s just had the realization of a lifetime. “Oh my god... Oh my god! Ya have a crush on Y/n, don't ya?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Suna hisses through clenched teeth, his eyes wide and threateningly boring into his.

“What happened to not cussing in front of the kids?”

Suna stares at him blankly, and Osamu merely sighs, slumping back into his seat.

"I can't believe this. I don't know if this is pathetic or cute—kinda both, to be honest.”

"Osamu, I swear-“

With neither of them having heard the studio door swing open, you unknowingly interrupt his threat: "Hey! Sorry, traffic was horrible—oh, who’s this?"

“Doesn't matter; he was just about to leave,” Suna says without missing a beat while standing straight up.

"I'm Osamu,” he says, suddenly approaching you. “And yer the infamous Y/n, I'm assuming?”

“Infamous..?” you question under your breath before shaking your head and deciding to ignore it. “Uh yeah—are you friends with Suna?”

“No.”

“Yes,” Osamu answers, ignoring Suna’s response. "I should get going, though. Nice meeting ya, Y/n!”

“Yeah, you too…”

Osamu waves you goodbye before winking at Suna and disappearing out the door.

You hum. “So what was that about?”

“No idea,” Suna shrugs as he walks away to gather his students.

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

Suna has been weird ever since a week ago, when you walked into the studio to Suna and his friend. He’s avoided you as best as he can, and even when he’s not actively trying to somehow get away from you, he still feels Pluto far from his more than dry replies. And frankly, you’ve had enough. You’re driving yourself crazy trying to figure out what you’ve done wrong and how to fix it—you can’t know unless he tells you.

Which is why, when both of your students left, you borderline kidnapped him. You grabbed him by his arm and dragged him into your car, driving the two of you to a restaurant, where you now sit in an awkward silence waiting for your food. But this is good, right? If he truly didn’t want to be in this position with you right now, you’re more than certain he could’ve put up a winning fight, yet he didn't, so that’s good. This is good.

"Did I do something?”

“Yeah,” he replies without missing a beat or looking up at you.

“Huh?” Your heart is in your throat as you blink at him. “What did I do?”

“Exist.”

“What?” You shake your head in disbelief. "I thought we were getting along."

“We are—god.” As he finally looks up at you, he sighs and runs a hand through his hair. You almost feel like you're back in his studio for the very first time with the way his eyes are boring into yours. “We get along too well, jesus christ, Y/n, you drive me crazy.”

“And you don’t drive me crazy?” you ask, giving him a crooked smile.

“You don't know what you’re saying,” he says flatly, yet the way it’s almost breathless has you thinking maybe he actually wants you to know what you’re saying—to know all of the implications that come with it and fully embrace them.

“Does it matter? Just stop ignoring me, Suna; I hate it.”

"I hate it too.”

“So then why are you doing it, idiot?”

“Because Y/n, I-“

You stare at him expectantly, patiently waiting for his answer.

"I get too distracted with you; I need to teach my students," he mumbles the rest of his sentence as he looks away from you, your scrutinizing gaze sending shivers down his spine and crushing any idea he had to say something else—say the truth—well, the whole truth, because you very well do distract Suna far too much for his liking.

“That sounds like a shitty excuse.”

Suna hums, and when he makes no move to explain himself, you wonder, “Why do I distract you so much?”

“Why do you care if I ignore you so much?”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t act childish, Suna.”

Suna merely raises an eyebrow at you, still waiting for your answer, just like you were waiting for his only a few moments ago.

You sigh. "I'm not sure.”

"Well, I am, so I won’t say anything until you're sure too.”

“That’s not fair, Sunaaaa,” you whine, sliding down your seat like a petulant child.

He shrugs, a slight smirk on his face. "I'm more than happy to wait.”

"Whatever, just stop ignoring me?”

"Yeah, I'll stop,” he says, nodding. “Sorry bout that.”

"S'fine." You wave him off before remembering something that makes you sit up straight again. "Oh, also, I've been meaning to ask about how your studio is going?”

Suna’s mood and face drop so fast that it’s as if he was never even happy or smiling in the first place—the temperature of the room suddenly icy cold. “Oh.”

"I'm not trying to kick you out, Suna,” you immediately add, reassuring him that, as of now, that's the last thing you’d ever want to do. "I actually like you in my studio... like a lot, I guess, and I don't know, to be honest, I'm scared I'm getting too used to you being there."

"Well, I'm already used to it, so either way, we’re both kinda fucked in that department.”

You can't help but smile so wide it hurts your cheeks, absolutely over the moon that he feels the exact same way. That he’s grown so used to you, like the two of you should have never been apart in the first place, and it was always only a matter of time before you found your way to each other.

"I'm not sure, though. I haven’t heard much,” he continues, interrupting your inner swooning.

"Okay, well, that’s good then,” you say, nodding more to yourself than to him. “No need to get rid of you so soon; who else will annoy me?”

"Weren't you just begging me to stop ignoring you, and now I'm annoying?” he taunts.

You cross your arms, glaring at him. "I was not begging Rintaro Suna.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“Shut up," you say through a smile, no hostility anywhere in you. “Oh also! The kids wanted me to tell you about our recital coming up.”

“Yeah? When is it?”

“Week from now. They really want you there.”

Suna tilts his head slightly to the side, his eyes narrowing at you in doubt. “Just them?”

“Just them.”

Suna doesn't believe it for a second, and maybe he would’ve if your voice wasn't so shakey and breathless.

You relent; you never had much resolve when it came to him anyway—that's how he ended up in your studio in the first place, isn't it? “And me too, I guess.”

A blush that he makes look all too good covers his cheeks. "I'd love to go, Y/n.”

“Great!”

Suddenly his face drops, and he’s cursing under his breath, "Shit, wait, actually, we have a tournament that day too.”

"Oh, that's fine! I mean, being in the studio with us, it's like you get a free recital every day, right?” You smile, but even then, it's clear as day how disappointed you are.

"I'm sorry, Y/n. I can still try to make it.”

“No no! It's fine; you won't miss much. You have your own kids stuff to worry about.”

Suna frowns, wanting nothing more than to wipe that dejected look off your face. “Y/n.”

"Suna, it's fine, really." You weakly try to reassure him, but he’s just not budging.

He shakes his head. "I'll make it up to you, I promise.”

“Okay, I'll hold you to it then.”

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

The recital came faster than you cared for. You would be excited for this had Suna been able to come, but he couldn't, and now, even though you know he won't be here, you still can't help but peek through the stage curtains, hoping and praying you'll somehow spot him in the crowd. You try to keep your disappointment at bay the whole recital, and surprisingly you do. The recital goes off without a hitch, and the only thing you can wish for is that you were more excited. Your little ones did absolutely amazing and completely blew the crowd away, yet here you are moping around over some dude who, up until a few months ago, you hated.

“They did amazing,” an oddly familiar voice says, breaking you out of your thoughts. "I'm sure it's only because of their teacher... Do you know them? I'm actually looking for them.”

You're flattered, really, but you can't deal with compliments or holding a conversation right now, not when you want to just crawl under your bed covers and never come out. Not to mention that no one else is supposed to be backstage right now. You sigh before turning around to ask them to leave, only to practically jump out of your skin with excitement.

“Suna!” you exclaim happily, running your way toward him and closing some of the gap between you two. “You’re here, but how? Where were you? I looked, and I couldn't find you—wait, I thought? Where's your kids? Shouldn't you be at their tournament?” 

Suna watches you ramble with the softest of faces, huffing a small laugh. He shrugs once you're done. “Samu took over.”

“Rintaro Suna.”

“What? The little shits will get over it… but I don't think you would've if I didn't show up.”

"Well, I would've tried.” You take another step toward him. "Though I can't say you're not a smart man, Rintaro.”

Suna eyes you curiously and follows your movements, taking a step toward you. “So I've been told.”

You roll your eyes, despite an undeniable smile dressing your face, and in some fit of arrogance, you take the last step toward Suna, thus closing any remaining space between the two of you. With your chests touching, there’s nothing left for you to do but wrap your arms around his neck, which you do with ease—as if they were always meant to be there this whole time. He quickly follows your lead, resting his hands on your waist. But his eyebrows are furrowed as if to ask if this is okay, and you nod. This is more than okay—you’d actually prefer more, and it doesn’t seem like he’s getting the hint.

“So are you gonna kiss me, or are you just gonna stand there all day?"

Suna goes wide-eyed, and it takes a minute for his body to catch up with his brain, but before you know it, Suna is practically slamming his face into yours, kissing you like if he doesn't, he’ll die. like you’re the very oxygen Suna has been so desperately searching for all his life—and who's to say he isn't yours as well? Meeting his lips with the same exact urgency, you're sure if anyone else was backstage right now, the two of you would be scolded for years to come. Suna pulls away for air, practically panting; his face is flushed with such a deep red you can still make it out even under the dim lights, and you push strands of his hair out of his face just to revel in his blush some more.

Still struggling to catch his breath, he swallows harshly. “Would it ruin the moment if I told you my studio is finally fixed?”

"Yes, so I'm gonna pretend you didn't say that and keep kissing you instead.”

"Yeah, ok, I like that idea better anyway.”

©TODAYISAWTHEWHXLEWXRLD

[lewkwoodnco]

Can I make you a request about Anthony Lockwood based on the song “So American” by Olivia Rodrigo🥺😭

so american! - Lockwood x Reader

when he laughs at all my jokes and he says I’m so american oh god it’s just not fair of him to make me feel this much I’d go anywhere he goes when he says I’m so american oh god I’m gonna marry him if he keeps this shit up i might just be in la la la la la la la la la love

a/n: this fic has been rattling around in my head for a couple of weeks now and I was soooo double minded abt writing it so THANK YOU for the ask!!!!!! might not have written it otherwise heheh also I’m sooo proud of how my gifs turned out it was so fun to colour them all guts themed 😍😍 I hope you enjoy!! <333 also im having issues w the keep reading button AGAIN so sorry :(((

warnings/tropes: lockwood and reader are already in an established relationship, fluffy fluff, veeerrry small sprinkling of angst but happy ending! domestic sweetness

word count: 3.3k!

TAGLIST | MASTERLIST

“Ready?”

Lockwood ducked into the car's passenger seat, grinning at the sight of her comically desperate expression. George and Lucy were fussing in the backseat, mainly because of Lucy’s seatbelt, or lack thereof, and they didn't seem to notice his arrival.

“Just wear the fucking seatbelt.”

"I'll be fine, George."

"She got her license at 16. 16! They just let anyone drive all willy-nilly up and down the roads in America."

Lucy gave him a look. He finally gave up and tugged at his own seatbelt sceptically, muttering darkly under his breath.

Lockwood & Co. was much more than a psychical investigation agency. Outside of their working hours, each member liked to work on some kind of passion project. After not having driven for over a year since she got her driving license in the States, she had decided to apply for one in London. Luckily, her employer had gallantly offered to provide her with the lessons she badly needed, having been the first of the three to earn his license. Well, employer and boyfriend. 

Her mother could hardly believe the news and, frankly, so could she. In a lot of ways, having an English boyfriend was vastly different from having an American one. First, there was a slight communication barrier, given how terrible she was with accents. Then there were the differing preferences - Lockwood seemed forever ready for a cuppa at any time of day, whereas the only kind of tea she really enjoyed was iced tea. Still, these differences left gaps for lingering gazes and silences that stretched on a little too much, and somewhere in between she slipped her hand into his, and the rest was history. 

Lockwood turned away to buckle his seatbelt.

"Okay, your seatbelt on?"

"Yes."

"Ready to go?"

"Hang on," came George's peeved voice from behind them, "you're not going to brief her first?" The two of them stared at each other blankly. 

"Uh, Y/N, do you remember how to drive?"

"Sure." It was one of those things you never forget, like riding a bicycle. Sure, it had been a while, but how hard could it truly be?

"Brilliant. Now-"

George pulled himself forward between the two front seats, straining against his seatbelt. “We don’t drive on the right side here. We drive on the left side of the road. Left. Left.”

She glanced at her rearview mirror which outlined the line of cars behind them parked on the left side of the street.

“No. You don’t say.”

Lockwood coughed, poorly concealing his laugh as he craned his neck towards the backseat windows. "Right, all clear. I think we can move of-"

"Parking brake."

"Er, right, what George said. Disable the parking brake first."

“I’ve never driven with a parking brake before.”

“So you push in this metal bit, like so,” said Lockwood, gently manoeuvring her fingers into the right grip, “and then pull it up a little, and then bring it all the way down.”

She tugged at it in frustration. “I -it’s not working.”

“Lockwood, did you tell her to step on the “

“Step-on-the-brake-while-doing-that-yes I was just about to say, George. I think I know how to teach someone how to drive. Unless you’d like to take over?”

"Oh, please. You couldn't pay me to sit in the front seat with that maniac driving."

She got her parking brake down, checked her mirrors, and they were off. For a minute there it was quite enjoyable, trundling through the mostly empty backstreets of London. Lockwood even tried to prop his feet on the dashboard before getting badly told off by George. He was forever propping his feet up at the slightest chance - at the Archives, at home, and now here. Maybe it was all part of some innate desire to be a wheelbarrow.

And so, things were going perfectly rosy, until she faced her first real challenge - oncoming traffic. As soon as the car heading towards them came into plain enough view, the four of them went into hysterics. The road was just narrow enough to make overtaking a little too tricky for her abilities at the moment.

“What do I do? WHY isn’t he slowing down?”

“Don’t panic, it’s alright. Stop a little to the side.”

She cursed, fumbling for the brake pedal her foot had carelessly slipped off of. Lockwood was nervously watching the car get closer and closer to them.

“Now would be a good time to stop, Y/N. Brake! BRAKE!”

They shot ahead sharply, swerving right sharply, narrowly missing the car passing them. Lucy swore loudly and George gripped the car grab handle above him as he started scolding no one in particular. 

"NOT THE BRAKE!”

Lockwood gripped the steering wheel over her hands, frantically trying to steer them to safety. With some difficulty, she shifted her foot back to the right pedal and slammed the brakes. There was a bit of a scuffle in the backseat, including George going off on Lucy in a very ‘I-told-you-so’ tone.

At the front of the car, Lockwood and she were still frozen, reeling from the past very exciting 30 seconds. Her eyes settled to where his hands were still resting on hers, tightly pinning her fingers to the steering wheel.

“Your hands are so warm.”

He peeled them off almost instantly, and she was sorry she brought it up in the first place. “Yeah, well, they’re panicking, just like the rest of me. What the bloody hell was that? I thought you said you knew how to drive!”

“I do know how to drive.” She bit back a smile at the sight of her 180 cm tall boyfriend trying to catch his breath with his hand dramatically splayed across his chest, muttering something about Americans handing out licenses to just about anyone.

The drive back to the rental car agency was much less eventful. After returning the car, they trudged back up the road to Portland Row. As they hung their coats up, she met his thoughtful gaze.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He drew in a breath and hesitated. “You look nice.”

“Is this some convoluted way of patting yourself on the back for your fashion choices?”

“So you agree? You think you look nice?”

She groaned. She should have known no good was going to come from showing Lockwood Mean Girls. Still, it was hard to stay mad for long at a face like that. "You’re such a nuisance. A…delightful one, arguably, but still a nuisance.”

"You find me delightful?"

"That's your takeaway?”

"Next thing I know you’ll be saying you fancy me.”

“I’m literally wearing your shirt right now.”

“Luce!” He turned and started down the hallway. “Y/N says I’m delightful!”

As usual, the four of them reconvened in the kitchen a little after lunch for a tea break. Well, the four of them minus Lockwood, who had been bullied into fixing a plumbing issue in the basement. They sipped their tea and chewed their biscuits in silence. She wished she could bring down a little for Lockwood.

“Maybe I should go see if he needs some help.”

“No!” George nearly upset his tea, which made Lucy choke on her biscuit. “ Don’t go down there. You’ll distract him, he won’t get shit done, and that’ll be one more week without hot water for me.”

So she sat back down sulkily, brooding over her tea, until another topic of conversation struck her.

“Speaking of Lockwood -“

“- no one’s mentioned Lockwood-“

“-did you guys see the socks he was wearing today?”

Lucy and George didn’t even try to muffle their groans.

“They were very nice socks! They had the most precious pattern of baby ducks against a darling blue backgr-“

She stopped short as Lucy reached across the table to grip her hand.

“Y/N, I say this with love, but if I have to hear one more word about Lockwood, or his stupid bloody socks, I am going to ram a fork into my eye.”

She blinked, confused, and scoffed. “Gosh, you guys are so overdramatic. I don’t talk about him that much.”

George and Lucy exchanged a look.

“Okay, so maybe I like my boyfriend and I enjoy talking about him. Is that really so bad?”

Lockwood rescued all of them from the siege of George’s response by walking in right then, holding a wrench and looking a little worse for wear, but appeared very pleased with himself.

“Fixed!”

“Finally.”

Lucy frowned at the clock above the stove. “Isn’t that client meeting at Tooting today?”

Lockwood’s smile slipped right off as he glanced at his watch and rushed out of the kitchen, muttering furiously. His simple black leather watch which complemented his wrist so perfectly-

“Y/N! Time to leave!”

Maybe George and Lucy had a point.

Once their client meeting had finished, she and Lockwood stood on the pavement outside the house, looking for cabs to flag down. It was a balmy evening, and a cloudless sky meant they could enjoy the warmth of the setting sun beating down on them. She squinted down the road while Lockwood pulled something out from his coat pocket.

“For a job well done this morning and at the meeting…” he revealed two pieces of tightly wrapped square candies sitting on his palm. “A little treat.”

She stared at the candy for a moment, thinking hard.

“Caramel! I just remembered.”

“…what?”

“That’s what we call it in the States. A caramel.”

“It’s made of caramel, sure-“

“Plural is caramels.”

He made a strangled sound from the back of his throat. “Changing an uncountable noun into a countable one? That’s just lazy.”

“Fine. What do you call it?”

“Toffee.” The vowels rolled off his tongue like silk in that English accent that had made it difficult to fully concentrate from day one. Standing next to him, watching him gently and methodically unfolding the golden wrapper, shining and glinting like a beacon of light…maybe this was all she needed to be happy.

“Taw-fee?”

He pulled a face at her exaggerated American drawl, and she leaned her head on his shoulder as he pried apart the stuck halves of the toffee. She watched him visibly relax as the first tangy notes hit his tongue, her own half close to melting in her palm under the brunt of the setting sun. He met her gaze and gave a faint smile, almost reflexively covering her hand with his own.

“God, you’re so American. So, which is it? Toffee or caramel?”

She bites into what's left of the soft treat she's scraped off her palm. It's warm and comforting and she instantly feels a little more happy. Maybe it's the candy, or maybe it's the boy whose side is pressed into hers. Love, she decides. It's love.

“How many cups of tea have you had today?”

As idyllic as the weekend had been, they were back to their usual busy routine which meant that their evening tea break was the first time they’d see each other since breakfast. She had just walked into the kitchen where Lockwood was seated at the kitchen table, pouring over a mess of papers with a cup of tea to the side. One of the first things she had learnt about Lockwood was his near-debilitating addiction to tea. Now, he silently took a sip from his mug and she gave an exaggerated sigh, settling into the opposite end of the table.

“You really drink too much caffeine.”

He quirked his lips into a lopsided half-smile -/ he peered at the papers she had spilled onto the table. “What’s all…” he gestured to her papers with his mug, “…that?”

“The Rotwell agents give me hell for my American accent when they’re on duty at DEPRAC.” She held up her list of words dolefully. “‘Least I can do is pronounce things right.”

He slid into the chair next to her, taking a look at the list. “Which one are you at?”

“Pri-vacy. Pri...vacy. Nope, can't do it.”

“Of course it sounds weird when you say it like that. Try using it in a sentence.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Fine. If I have to say ‘pri-vacy’ one more time, I’m running you through with my rapier."

Lockwood choked on his tea.

"...or, you know...'pry-vacy' sounds perfectly fine."

She gave him a brief smile. “Anyway, I’ve got to do a Satchell’s run now. Lucy says we’re out of flares. Don’t wait up for me.”

It took her a decent amount of time to collect all the supplies they were out of stock on, yet when she returned Lockwood was still sitting in that same chair, staring at the same papers with worn-out eyes, distractedly tugging at his hair. He barely looked up when she walked in, mystified.

“You’re still up?”

He rubbed his face firmly. “I can’t…I can’t figure this out.” She took a closer look at the papers. There were reports dating back two centuries on the house of one of their upcoming cases.

“The investigation is tomorrow and I have no idea what or where the Source could be.”

“Well…maybe George’s figured it out.”

“If he did, he’d be home by now.” He hunched over the papers once again, his head swaying dangerously close to the table, and she was instantly reminded of how exhausted Lockwood had looked that morning. As if he hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep. She started stacking some papers together.

“It’s getting late. We should head to bed.”

“But I’m not done yet.”

“You can continue in the morning, but right now, you need to rest.”

His features hardened like he was ready to start a fight, but it lasted all of half a second before they caved to exhaustion. He looked like a drenched cat left out in the rain, with his hair messed up and in disarray.

“George is still at the Archives. What kind of a boss would I be to go to bed now? What kind of a…friend?”

Lockwood leaned back in his chair, briefly pressing a hand to his eyes and then his forehead, his forearm trembling ever so slightly. In the dim light of the kitchen, he seemed more skeleton than Man with his malnourished pallor and the scar on his lip being carefully outlined by a shadow. She ran a hand through his hair, down his neck, all the way to his shoulder.

“Hey. Don’t beat yourself up over it. You’re human, too.”

He gave a deep sigh. “Fine. I’ll come in a while.”

“Promise?”

He gave a jerky nod. The tea in his mug had gone stone cold by then, and so she brewed him a fresh cup. He looked up, confused, as she placed it next to his papers.

“What about the caffeine?”

She bit the inside of her cheek and combed down the hair sticking up all haywire, as if she hadn’t heard him. “What about it?”

He smiled faintly and gave the hand on his shoulder a light squeeze, and returned to his work with his eyes humming with a little more energy.

Later that night, she dreamt that he was falling, and she was losing her mind trying to save him.

She should have known nothing was going to right in the job from the very beginning. None of them had been able to find much information on the house, and they were running late, so tempers were running very high. Even during the case itself, they were forced to split up and fumble through improvised plans. That was until she had stumbled onto Lockwood frozen at the basement door, looking down into the darkness in a strange way. 

Go back, he had said. I don’t know what any of us can expect in this place. So I’ll come with you, she had replied. Or let’s wait for George or Lucy. I can’t. Why not? It’s different. I don’t have the time to explain it. Different how?

You’re more important.

The look on his face was more foreign than the house itself.

Now they were home, back at Portland Row. Lucy and George had sensed something was off and retired to their rooms. Lockwood headed towards the kitchen, and she followed him. He hadn’t spoken a word since her face had blanched at the sight of him poised at the basement’s entrance. She tugged at the ends of her hair. She could feel an argument brewing and she didn’t like it one bit.

“Are you okay?”

Lockwood continued rummaging through the refrigerator for his routine drink of orange juice, taking his time to reply. “Don’t I look okay?”

“Yes. No.” He was terribly confusing. “Why did you say you weren’t important?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You said you were less important.”

He finally twisted the cap off the carton with his trembling fingers. The case had shaken all of them up, but for some reason, he was trying to hide it.

“Well…it’s not not true.”

“No it isn’t.”

“I’m a figurehead, Y/N. I represent the agency, that’s my name on the plaque out there, but that’s about it. You, Lucy, George…you’re the soul of the agency.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“If…heaven forbid, something were to happen to one of us…”

Oh, he was so aggravating. She massaged her temples. She was going to punch him soon if she wasn’t careful.

“…the lot of you’d be better off without me than anyone else, and-“

"Oh god, shut up already!"

Lockwood abandoned the carton and straightened, and they glared at each other from opposite ends of the kitchen. “Or what? You'll shoot me?"

His expression softened only marginally when he saw how close she was to tears. She shook her head.

"If you pull another stunt like this...I might just have to marry you.”

“I’d have to marry you so that you can look down at your bloody hand and remember that there are people out there who would be nothing without you.”

“Y/-“

“Shame on you, Anthony J. Lockwood. Do you think George wouldn’t care about losing his best friend? Or Lucy? Or me? Hm?”

The tears had started to trickle down her face, and he walked towards her with a sympathetic expression, any and all rage long forgotten, and offered her his handkerchief. She could barely manage a weak glare before caving and accepting it, wiping away at her face. As soon as she was done, she wrapped her arms around him, and he enveloped her in a warm hug that smelled faintly of vanilla.

“That was a…a terrible thing to say, Anthony.”

“I know. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“Well, you’re doing a pretty shitty job then. I’m worried about you every day.”

She felt rather than saw his smile, though he could perfectly picture it in her mind - uneven and tipped to the right, but perfectly sincere.

"Also, I'm pretty sure that shooting remark counts as xenophobia."

"Yes, I'm hugging you very xenophobically now."

She buried her face into his chest and scrunched her nose hard. It was moments like these that only cemented her faith that she was never going to find somebody who made her feel the way Lockwood did. Seeing him standing outside the basement, she didn’t even need to think about what to do next. It had become incredibly instinctual - her readiness to take his hand and hurtle into the latest oblivion, blind as a bat. It didn’t get more simple than this: she just wanted to be wherever he was. 

It was him and her, and her and him - Portland Row’s cripplingly disaster couple, Mr A.J. Lockwood and Miss Americana.

TAGLIST: @dangelnleif @elenianag080 @snoopyluver20 @ell0ra-br3kk3r @avdiobliss @mitskiswift99 @ahead-fullofdreams @neewtmas @mischivana @houseoftwistedspirits

[hopefull-mindset]

Finally understanding Beast Mori (as Asagiri intended)

Hello everyone, I am hoping you’ll be nice about me talking about Mori for two seconds and express my thoughts about such a guy like this. This isn’t going to be some fancy analysis picking apart stuff like I’d usually want to or even me addressing every trait he has because I definitely don’t go into everything. This is me finally being at peace with Mori’s humanity.

Before you say anything, I’d just like to share my own peace of comprehension. So if you were similarly confused the way I was, I think you’d appreciate this (Or if you’re looking for a different approach on Mori).

Im sure most of you have read the manga adaptation, so just to let you know, I am going to be using passages from the official Light Novel translation and if anyone needs it, I can send it to them!

For anyone who’s decided to read, hello! Nice to meet you. I’m sure we’ve all shared the same confusion when confronted with Beast Mori’s difference in personality and approach. Thoughts like “Why is he so much nicer?” Or “Why does he care much more about how kids are treated, when he himself has treated kids the same way he describes in the past?”

How could this person be the same guy who was Mori the Port Mafia Boss? The war veteran who used Yosano the way he did? So we came up with many idea of why he’s different to justify it, but here’s the thing: Mori is the same person he always was, this is a universe where everything is the same, but different where Dazai chooses to intervene.

After a few days, I was able to recognize it but I couldn’t hold myself to acknowledge it. It’s hard to see a man who represents the dark, the Port Mafia, to the Armed Detective Agency’s light. I couldn’t wrap my head that such a controlling, manipulative man could have humanity like the rest of the characters.

Why was this so hard for me to see? Well two reasons— the fandom and how the anime cuts down Mori’s emotions when adapting canon material. This happens to Dazai too, but people are much more willing to talk about it compared to Mori. Now the fandom really does love blaming everything on Mori and that’s not the most constructive thing to do when talking about abuse narratives. I can’t blame anyone for taking this route when it came to Mori because of Asagiri’s poorly thought out choice with him…. we all know what I’m talking about. Elise.

However, I need some of you to understand that abuse narratives are never as simple as “oh, it’s all this persons fault because they’re a horrible person, so [character] is resolved from any guilt or responsibility”. This not only dumbs down the situation and seriousness of it, by mischaracterizing the abuser, you’re also mischaracterizing the victim as well and what they’ve gone through. You’re putting their story in jeopardy.

Bungou Stray Dogs is a story about human beings, morality, and what it all means. Mori, and in turn Fukuzawa, are important to understand Bungou Stray Dogs because they are in two pinochle positions that start this discussion of Morality. I am baffled that a story like this, one that approaches these topics with so much appreciation for humanity and nuance, has a fandom that doesn’t want to talk about what it has to offer.

Asagiri’s poorly thought out writing decision of a joke is going to have lasting effects with how Mori is going to be approached forever and I see this, but I think the little girl jokes are the least important thing to talk about because they have as much impact as the Tanizaki siblings do. He’s also written to be not a good person either, so you can dislike him easily, but how many of these characters are traditionally good people? Kouyou, for example, is not a “good person” and emotionally abusive in example to how she treated Kyouka. That doesn’t stop people from liking her friendship with Chuuya and making content with her.

So this attitude toward Mori had me lost when it came to him because I could see how much thought Asagiri puts into writing him the same way he does with so many, but I’ve seen so many disregard his humanity that I had no way to express any of my thoughts to sort out what to think about through anyone else when faced with Beast Mori. Everyone was as lost I was, and the people that weren’t never explained it in a way I could break that barrier.

So what finally made me wrap my head around Mori? It was exactly one conversation I had with a friend and it wasn’t even about Beast Mori in particular, it was just about Mori and his poor humanity while navigating how to lead. Everything just clicked with that.

(Dazai, Chuuya, age Fifteen)

This right here is where Mori tells us what he thinks his position means after the struggling we visibly see him go through. Is it an inherently correct conclusion to make? No, but does it make sense as someone who’s a leader of a huge, dangerous underground criminal organization? Yes, it does.

We have no backstory on Mori, but his poor humanity is easy to explain when he’s been in positions that require him to disregard his own and everyone else’s humanity for years now. As someone who’s seen war up close and a physician, these jobs require him to take control of the other person. Well in his mind at least, he sees these jobs and chooses to the route that’s most efficient.

It’s never positioned to be for himself though, he doesn’t take glee in what he does for self serving purposes, it’s always for the country, the city, the organization. His thought process is never the power hungry yearning we see everyone mistake it for. It’s never that he wants it, it’s that he needs it for everything to go well.

That’s exactly how he treats Yosano because even though it’s creepy to base your abilities looks on a little girl, that doesn’t stop him from seeing her use before her age and humanity.

His clinical utilitarianism is his core trait but also most disliked one from what I can tell in the fandom, and people tend to misinterpret it to make the more non-favorable view of him. But again, he’s not supposed to be the greatest guy ever and you can understand where these traits started forming. And again, to paraphrase another’s words: he’s cunning, but not power hungry.

He’s also not disliked by his subordinates and actually respected, he respectively enjoys the company, but there’s a mixed answer to that and that it is… nobody is going to listen to you if you don’t treat them with decency. Why would you expect a tool to work if you break them? One of his earliest lessons he learned with Yosano and leadership.

(Dazai, Chuuya, Age Fifteen)

For example, we all know this scene is manipulation. He’s baiting Chuuya with information while still treating the teenager with respect and enough honesty to form a bond. Chuuya is perfectly aware that he’s being used in the present and in the past, but he respects Mori as a leader objectively after his own considered failure and lack of control over the sheep, even if he didn’t consider himself one. I don’t think this honesty comes from nowhere because that quote, “only a Diamond can polish a Diamond”, came from Natsume in reference to himself and Fukuzawa.

He sees himself and Fukuzawa in Soukoku fondly, but I tend to rethink this quote time to time because at first it comes off as a quote about partnership and building off of each other’s good qualities to perfect their own, but the way Mori uses it here feels as though it’s positioned to mean that one of them comes out perfected and the other weared down. Pretty competitive if you think about it.

(Bungou Stray Dogs BEAST)

We’re finally at the part you’ve been waiting for guys! So what was my point for analyzing canonverse Mori? So as I said before, these are the exact same guy and all that word jumble? That was an extended version of what was communicated with me to finally get what was going on with Mori in this universe and why he’s suddenly in an orphanage.

Now I couldn’t tell what was going through Beast Dazai’s mind and where this decision came from instead of actually killing him like the rumor’s implied, but I can come close. I think that Beast Dazai recognized this potential of change either from the multitude of universes he was able to witness or recognized it in his own considering canonverse Dazai never does anything against Mori (even if he visibly dislikes him).

Possibility is one thing, the why is another. It was either that he saw potential and good that could come out of this in the long run, Mori’s intelligence and expertise still proves usefulness, less dangerous for Oda in the long run if he let Mori stay there instead of the Mafia, or all three.

I can say for sure though that this is better for Mori because after the years of being in atmospheres that require so much of him intelligently and exempt of any emotion involved for the sake of efficiency, being able to rekindle his humanity where nothing is expected of him except to raise kids in a non-exploitative context sounds really freeing to me. Considering he’s been there for 4 years, I find the development understandable.

Okay I’m hearing what you guys are saying again, “What about him saying he wanted to save Dazai? That doesn’t seem like typical Mori.” And I’m gonna say something really controversial: Well maybe he did.

Really though, I think he did care about Dazai and not because he saw a child struggling (think about Yosano and Q for 3 seconds), but because he saw himself in Dazai, which ultimately changed way more about their relationship than you guys think. There’s a lot of comparisons to Yosano and I understand where they come from because I think there’s a lot you can see similarities in, but Dazai is not purely a tool for Mori the way she was.

The avoidance of letting him die do come from his use and overall importance to the original plan of becoming the new boss, but I don’t think he would’ve left Dazai alone like that for 4 whole years after leaving the mafia if he didn’t care in some way way. What strikes me the most is how Asagiri decided to add “the man who raised Dazai”.

For Beast Mori, I think he’s had enough time to actually feel guilt and regret for Dazai as a person like a normal human being does. Oh I guess Elise is important too. Her aging up just meant that Mori has become less controlling and not like the little girl who he literally sees as a tool since kids are easier to manipulate. Can’t bring that energy to an orphanage, nope!

There’s better stuff out there about Mori that I think if you’re more open to thinking about Mori after this, you should check it out, these are just my thoughts recently. To end this off, here are two links to Asagiri’s own thoughts on Mori.

[brandnewhuman]

Horny time

♡ poorly done NSFW hc ♡

☆starring☆

König aka our zaddy for the night

Tw: miserable attempt at being smutty and NSFW, foul foul language, MINORS DNI, sexual themes

A/N: never have i being one to write nsfw, it took only one(1) tall austrian himbo to turn me into a whore. DISCLAIMER: I don't write smut and everything i have written here comes from very embarrassing google researches and poor sexual imagination so if it sucks, i know im sorry it is what it is. @bloodlst has gave me the final push to attempt at being horny on main ANYWAY ENJOY

Keep in mind that this is all coming from my asexual ass and my very little sex knowledge

The horrors I had to learn about to be accurate in this are not yet known to humankind

Anyways let's start by saying that könig, despite his usual attitude, is quite surprising when it comes to make love

I can't really decide how horny he would be

Like I don't see him being over the top horny but he does likes to have sex(?)

Like it's not being horny it's about what he feels when he's doing it with someone he loves

You as a whole are a turn on for him

Like not in his always with his willy saying hi all the time

He just really likes you know?

He's utterly enamoured with you so you don't really need much to get him going

He definitely enjoys some playful flirt or teasing

not to be like a whore on main but just saying 👀 those hands? He really really knows how to use them

He has learned the secret knowledge that is not about speed but about the movements and how you work it

One could think that because of his job his hands are rough but they're actually kinda soft

Years of fidgeting with anything he finds at hand reach has make his fingers quite dexterous in movements

For some reason I picture him always on his knees when either doing a hand job, fingering or anything that has to do with hands

He likes to have a clear vision of you and your reactions

He quite literally is a menace with those hands both in and outside missions

I know everyone thinks of him as a gentle and lovely cinnamon roll

And he is, he definitely is

But he gets way out of character during the deed

He's…he's a lot, like a lot lot. But worth every bit of it

Just so you have an idea, he feels the most beautiful when he's making love to you and it's something he truly enjoys

I know I've already said but still

It's not just about the pleasure or the orgasms, it's about every new part he can discover of you and how much closer to you he feels after it

He definitely puts his whole heart and königussy in it

Doesn't really likes to be rough perse but he is very dominant in certain way

Even in his everyday life he leans more in the soft dom part

Although being shy it's not a submissive type of shy but more like a really and utterly in love shy

Is very different from just his awkward normal self who let's other people boss him around

I feel like he would be the type of lover who you can trust enough to let him guide you and be the one taking the lead

He's just so gentle you don't even feel like he's the dominant one in the relationship

Like the line between being dom or sub with him gets really blurry cause he seems to know when he should be more or less dominant

But back at him being a menace in bed

He loves, absolutely adores the foreplay

To him is even more fun and fulfilling than the sex itself

He likes to build up the moment, to takes his time and make every part of your body feel special

He's very selfless, it may sound cliché and corny but all he really cares about is making you feel as good as possible

That's all he needs to feel satisfied

Definitely has a thing for overstimulating you into fucking oblivion

He has his ways to make you feel everything everywhere is honestly quite impressive how well he ends up knowing your body and where and what to do to get a reaction

About reactions this man secretly loves to fuck in front of a mirror or in front somewhere he can see both of you

Not in a Patrick Bateman type of shit (that feels more like a ghost thing tbh DON'T COME AT ME. I LOVE HIM BUT HE WOULD BE AN ABSOLUTE MENACE WHEN FUCKING)

He wants you to see what he sees which is the most perfect and beautiful human being ever

He has that lovestruck smile while looking at you through the mirror

Guys guys

He is packing, he is HE JUST IS. HE HAS BIG DICK ENERGY AND YOU CAN'T DENY IT

He's very open about trying any position you may find more comfortable or fun but his absolute favourite are you riding on top of him or hitting it from behind

Don't know how it's called but once he tries the one where you have to put your legs on his shoulders this man is gonna lose his marbles

LISTEN, HIS TALL. HE CAN'T MESS UP HIS BACK JUST FOR THE SAKE OF BEING HORNY

He's always checking if you're doing good but doesn't ask like "Am I HUrtinG you?" "ArE yOu OkAY"

No. No. No, okay?

We're talking about our very smexy King

He has this raspy and soft tone of voice when talking during sex

"Do you like it like this dear?" "Use your words liebling, I need you to tell me what feels good"

His voice hitches and sometimes breaks from how much he's trying to control himself too

Not a big fan of calling you names tho, it just doesn't feels right even if you say you're okay with it

Maybe I'm biased but I do think he takes his time in making you come first even if it means taking a little extra time

This man can't fucking stand still for the life of him, what makes you think he would get tired or not last long?

The aftercare? Amazing, not even just good or great nono, plain amazing

Focuses a lot on cuddles even tho, as I said, he's not super rough while having sex so the cuddles are just a nice extra time together to talk or just relax

Definitely falls asleep holding you close but not before making sure you drink some water

Somehow manages to always wake up before you so don't be surprised if you find him making snacks for the both of you while running a bath

He always makes sure both of you are fine and relaxed

Always uses a lot of words of affirmation to remind you how much he loves you and how great it was and as I said in my other hc he never says things he doesn't mean so

He enjoys eating you out like everything about it it's particularly satisfying to him and honestly it ends up being to you too

The way you brush your fingers through his hair while he is down, how he can grab firmly your ass and hips and listening to you enjoying it and asking for more drives him crazy

I don't think he masturbates that much, to him sex is not a like need like i said but more like a intimate and lovely moment between him and his partner

He doesn't sees the point in touching himself tbh

Like I said everything about you is perfection to him

He gets the most turned on when watching you getting dressed or just doing stuff like skincare ecc

There's something deeply arousing in you taking care of yourself to him

For some reason I don't think he would mind you tying him up

He trusts you enough and you make him feel the most safe so if you want from time to time to take control and do something different he's all about it

[lululandd]

── 𝐥 𝐨 𝐬 𝐢 𝐧 𝐠 [ II.] 

pairing: simon ‘ghost’ riley x gn!reader

word count: 873

warnings: angst, hurt no comfort, ghost’s pov

note:posted this under a side account thinking i can manage two accounts but im a lazy fuck so that shit is gone and im reposting it here

summary: the first thing he noticed is how you stopped smiling around him. 

“How are you dealing with this?” Price sat next to him, defeat written all over his face.

“Poorly.” He murmured, jaw clenching as he looked away from whatever random spot of floor he previously focused his sights on. This is why he doesn’t make friends, doesn’t get attached to people. Johnny was the one exception he thought he could make, and look where it got him.

Price sighs, “Take time off, Simon. Captain’s orders.” 

He has a feeling Price is only telling him to take time off because he himself needs time off. Gaz isn’t taking it well either, neither of them has seen the sergeant in days at this point. 

Home is the last place he wanted to go back to as of now. He never wanted to come home when he’s like this. He hated coming home to skittish you, always walking on eggshells, making sure you don’t cross boundaries. He can’t stand the meek tone when you absolutely have to break the silence in the room. 

So he went hunting. 

The smell of blood clung to his clothes no matter how many times he put them in the wash. It only came to him now that he knows how to clean up blood from his clothes, but it was always you that made the smell disappear. Resigning with a deep sigh, he doesn’t know why he had to brace himself when what awaits him at home is nothing but pure love.

Crossing over the threshold of his own home had never felt so foreign. Everything felt like…it had been moved slightly to the left. 

It’s ‘coz I'm always right, innit LT?

He bumped the table by the little foyer, making the bowl holding all your keys jingle. Ghost heaves a sigh as your head pops out of a doorway. He didn’t miss the apprehensive few seconds you hesitated to approach him. Whatever’s left of Simon’s already brittle heart chips off into oblivion everytime he sees you cautiously take actions around him the first few days he comes home. You’re always trying to make yourself seem smaller, trying to make as little noise as possible, trying to not disturb him.

Pulling you into his arms, he felt a little warmth seep back into his tired bones.

“Welcome home, Simon.” You whispered softly.

His expression falters, Simon wasn’t there to answer.

The next couple of days were hell as he had seemed to inherit Soap’s sleep paralysis and started to see things coming for you as he lay there useless, limbs frozen. In his head you have died a hundred times in a thousand different ways, the fear is multiplied tenfold as he now sees those images with his eyes wide open. As soon as his sleep paralysis dissipated, he bolted out of the bed. Ghost decided if he has to suffer sleep paralysis he will suffer them alone, so they can’t get to you.

Disappointment spread to every corner of his mind every time he tried to relax. Dozens of scenarios played in his head of what he could’ve done differently on that fateful day. Something deep in his chest unruffled the more he lingered on these thoughts. He didn't know what to do with all the grief, so they turned to anger. Rage was his armour, something he knows very dear, always within arm’s reach. Rage never rejected him, it never looked at him with sad eyes that he would feel guilty for. It took over most of his days, since usually he has nothing else to do but dote on you when he’s home. So he started going out. Gun ranges, pubs, his cabin, he doesn’t care where, he just wants to be in places that would make the pain go away.

He woke up several mornings in a row to a sight of you on the sofa, feet hanging off the edge, blankets in disarray. His eyes flicker to your face, eyes swollen with tear marks on your cheeks. The suffocating pressure on his chest burst, he had to control the urge to just scream his lungs out. This is too much. You won’t even get in bed with him now.

Has he turned into that big of a disappointment?

“Not enough for you anymore, aren’t I?” 

“What?”

He didn’t even bother to sit down, a failure of a human being like him doesn’t get luxuries like sitting down next to you.

“You don’t even come to bed anymore.” He answers bluntly.

“You don’t even stay in bed Simon.” 

His lips parted for a moment, but he quickly thought of a reason. “I always wake up earlier than you.”

You roll your eyes. His heart dropped. You had never done that to him before, he had only seen you roll your eyes at strangers. There was also a flash of something else that made anger flare up in his chest, something that made him feel like a threat. “Yes. But you don’t stay. You don’t even make me tea anymore, Simon.” The rest of his already brittle heart turns to dust as he hears what you have to say. “Why don’t we just take a break from each other?”

—no, not you too.

But only silence answers.

( reader's pov )