#this scene makes me lose my marbles

[atomicradiogirl]

the scene of all time

[filmbyjy]

every time I see an enha! spiderman fanfic on my timeline, my brain goes into mush

someone needs to make a spiderman jay🤌🏻🤌🏻 WE NEED JAY AS SPIDERMAN🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️

[merevide]

confession i’ve been seeing this damn screenshot EVERYWHERE and every time i saw it i went ‘omg i can’t remember this scene did they cut it did they delete it. where is this from’ and i just remembered. 

[pawphin]

ABSOLUTELY DECIMATED BY THIS PANEL. I LOVE THEM SO MUCH HE SHOULDERED SO MUCH BY HIMSLEF AT SUCH A YOUNG AGE HE DESERVES ALL TH HUGS CRYING FOR A MILLION YEARS

(Im almosy done w the manga!!! Thank you for bearing w me so far :] )

[itstheapocalypsebaby]

i think about the barn scene a normal amount of times (is lying)

[sttoru]

·.⌇ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. you leave megumi with your husband so you can make them breakfast. you quickly realise that that might have backfired.

wc. around 1.3k

tags. dad!toji x wife!female reader. fluff. reader gets called ‘mama’ by both toji & megumi. half beta read.

“ow, careful there, brat.”

your husband’s deep voice echoes from within the bathroom. you’ve left megumi in his care this morning so you’d be able to make breakfast in peace. toji was all grumpy about it, since he had to wake up early when he had no work, but eventually agreed to your proposal.

you hum your favorite song while frying eggs. the sizzling in the pan did help avert your attention from toji’s grunts of annoyance somewhere in the distance, though only for a couple seconds. your hear your child’s laughter slip between the noises of aggravation. it piques your interest.

“one more time and i’m putting y’r ass in time out,” toji’s deep voice sounds muffled. he sounds rather serious about whatever is bothering him.

you turn the stove off and walk towards the hallway, standing at the doorframe as you look in the direction of the bathroom. you tilt your head and try your best to pick up on snippets of the conversation between your husband and son.

the sound of bottles dropping on the floor is the first thing that allows you to guess that megumi’s acting up. you know how mischievous your little toddler can get, especially at his age. toji isn’t one to gentle parent his kid—he tries to, of course, but sometimes he can’t help but be a bit rough.

“megumi fushiguro.”

you raise your eyebrows as toji uses your child’s full name. he rarely does, only when he’s really upset or about to lose his marbles. you decide to see what was going on for yourself. you walk towards the bathroom, cleaning your hands against the material of your apron. you knock once before pushing the door open.

you stick your head through the little gap, ready to identify the cause of the commotion. the first thing you notice is the chaos on the floor; bottles, tubes, toothbrushes, and all other kinds of products lay cluttered on the bathroom tiles.

your eyes then land on your husband’s broad and scarred back, “hey, honey. did something hap—”

your voice trails off once toji turns around, revealing the jaw dropping scene. nearly his entire face is covered in loads of shaving cream and even his black hair hasn’t escaped the soft foam.

the bathroom counter is completely wet, and the water runs down the edges in small drops. the culprit of this entire scene is sitting right on that same counter, clapping his dirty hands together that were smeared with toji’s shaving cream.

you blink and walk towards the two. you can’t possibly be mad at the sight, finding toji’s situation more funny than worrisome. You try to act serious and clear your throat, “uh, yeah. so what’s happened here?”

your husband rolls his eyes and nods his head at the little boy in front of him, who’s giggling and kicking his legs. toji tries to wipe the shaving cream from his nose, attempting to get it out of his hair as well, “i tried to be a good dad and include him in my morning routine, that’s what.”

the man clicks his tongue as he now realises how dumb of a mistake that was, “gave him the opportunity to put some shaving foam on my jaw ‘n the brat totally blew it. started attackin’ me with the stuff.”

toji grumbles. he wipes away the foam that got on the mirror afterwards. it’s nearly gotten everywhere. he lightly nudges megumi’s forehead with a scoff, “never again, y’hear? the little shit can’t sit still for even one second.”

that explains the stuff on the floor. you know that megumi could grow bored easily if he isn’t the centre of attention. he’d start doing anything to be the focus of his parents. toji probably didn’t pay him much mind, wanting to get his morning routine over with.

“language, honey.” you sigh and look down at megumi who’s still reaching his messy hands up to his dad.

toji huffs and leans back, not giving the little boy a chance to put more shaving cream on his face. he’s learnt his lesson; kids do not understand it when you tell them to ‘only put a little bit’.

megumi whines and threatens to throw a tantrum. you notice that immediately and try to keep his mind off things by picking him up. you turn on the faucet and try to wash his little hands, “c’mon. give mama your hands.”

the little boy shakes his head furiously, squirming in your embrace in attempt to get away. you sigh and grab his little wrists gently. you lower him to the sink, trying your best to wash away the shaving cream as the first step of solving this grande mess.

“no, mama!” megumi is stubborn as he voices his complains. toji watches from a distance whilst he struggles to clean the overload of shaving cream from his face.

you make the mistake of letting go of your child’s wrists to grab a washcloth. megumi takes his chance and pats his messy hands against your face, leaving you no space to process what he’s doing.

your mind takes a second before you realise what’s happening, “hey! quit it, ‘gumi.”

you try to grab ahold of megumi’s tiny hands again, but they move too fast for you. plus, he’s pretty skilled at avoiding yours. you can feel the foam slowly cover your entire face; from your jaw and cheeks, to your nose and forehead.

it was inevitable at this point.

“toji, do something,” you grunt and struggle to contain the energetic toddler in your arms. you take a peek at your husband and find him grinning at the predicament you’ve gotten yourself in.

toji simply shrugs and enjoys the fact that you’re experiencing exactly what he had experienced just moments ago. seeing you struggle to contain your disobedient child only proves that his parenting skills are not the problem in this situation, your toddler is.

“ye did that to y’rself, mama.” toji hums in amusement. he leans against the wall, the blue towel now loosely hanging off head after he’s given up on getting the foam out of his hair, “now y’know what i’m talkin’ about. he’s a lil’ monster.”

megumi squeals in victory after he’s gotten both his parents covered in shaving cream. you want to say something to your child, but you’re at a loss for words. even now, you cannot bring yourself to be mad at him. he’s just a kid who’s having fun with his parents.

“i made mama pretty! hehe.” megumi grins and encourages you to look in the mirror. he points at your reflection and awaits the words of confirmation. his blue eyes look up at you, nearly sparkling with joy, admiring how pretty he’s made you look with that white foam all over your face.

toji joins in on the fun. he comes to stand behind you, looking at you through the mirror. he snickers, already forgotten about his irritations that occurred in the first place. he nods in approval at megumi’s words, “gotta agree, son. y’r mama looks much prettier like this.”

your husband’s teasing comment adds fuel to the fire. though again, you cannot bring yourself to be upset at the situation.

you look at the reflection in the dirty mirror. you all may appear disheveled due to the foamy mess on your bodies—and yet even at that moment—the only thing you actually manage to see is a happy family of three.

[jjongswannabebae]

actor!jake when director asks to film a heated kiss with actor!reader.

"you seem rather nervous," mentioned jake as he slipped past the door of your waiting room, his face resting with a little grin. Settling to take a seat beside you, he holds your hand in his and peers up at you, "how about we practice?"

"practice?"

"you know, the kiss,"

The hesitation you displayed was nothing foreign to him. Being reputed in the film industry you bagged constant roles for shoots and films, jake no indifferent from you. However, he seemed to notice the lack of words from you when he was around and not one camera.

This upset till a few nights until he stopped to look at the script before bed, the next scene they were to film had a kiss. Not just a peck. A kiss. "can't we just film this another day," you reasoned, hoping to get away from the current situation.

"no," he smiled, while yanking you onto of him on one of the chairs he sat on, as you yelped, attempting to get off. "relaxxx" he drawled, placing a palm to your back, his hand sliding up the fabric, erupting chills all over.

Yeah, maybe you'd thought about jake like this but you couldn't help it when he was always this teasing and flirtatious. And right now, sitting on jakes lap as he circled you in his arm, you were losing your marbles.

Reading the haze in your eyes, jake leaned forward just enough to stare up to you with a grin, his hand pushing aside the strands of hair that decorated your flushed face. "can I kiss you?"

You nodded a yes, knowing that if you spoke your voice would give you away.

Tilting his neck to the side and parting his lips, he raced forward and connected the two together, molding perfectly with you. His lips were so soft and full, leaving you desperate against him, your hands clutching onto the shirt he wore.

He pulled back just enough to look at your expression, finding you dazed which caused him to smile. His palms slid down your arms and dipped to where they rested at his shirt in a tight clasp. He took one of your hands in his and placed at his neck, your other hand now tending his shoulder.

Again, with those expectant eyes he gazed up at you and puckered his lips playfully. The hand you left at his shoulder picked up to his puckered lips, pushi your thumb into his mouth, forcing him to open his mouth. Your thumb danced along the expanse of his thick and warm, saliva drew lips.

Wondering where you conjured up the will to act so, jake thought about letting you give a try this time. "come closer," but that was beyond possible, if lurked closer to him, you'd be kissing him. And so you did, leaning into him, you pressed Your lips to him, gripping his neck as the other found residence in his locks.

Devoid of instructions or whether you were doing it right, you messily kissed jake, rather fast as the two moved over with desperate needs. "i suppose that's enough practice for today," sighed jake into your face with a resting smile.

At a loss for words after having just a fraction of what he tasted like, he'd suggest you broke the connection between your lips and your pressed against bodies, leaving you in a pout. You leaned closer to his ear, nibbled on his ear and whispered, "how about you make me see stars till my eyes bleed?"

[squarebracket-trickster]

To be honest, I think the worst part about writing a novel (for me) is that I absolutely have to half-ass it if I want to make any progress at all.

Because the way my process works, there is no point in spending hours editing a scene if, by the time I get to the end of the draft, I realize it is not actually needed for the plot. And I can spend weeks just making the first line pop but how much can I really say with it if I do not know the themes of my own story yet, or know what I need to foreshadow?

Why put it all that work at the beginning and scrap most of it when it would be more efficient to word-vomit something atrocious now and slowly chip away at it like a sculptor revealing a veinous hand in the marble, putting in the effort once I know where effort is actually needed?

At the same time, as a chronic perfectionist, half-assing something is terrifying because I start to fear it might actually be my best work, or that I am "losing it" and out of practice.

Eventually that half-assing will turn into a full-ass, because with each draft I will add back a little more of what I let go of last draft; but GOD is it hard to read something of yours that is riddled with mistakes you can see from a mile away, and that you know how to fix... and just move on without touching them.

You really do just have to trust that your future self has the same standards as you and will put in the effort you are putting off when the time is right; and if the problem is beyond her skill to fix she will research the shit out of it, ask for help, and try until it works. She won't settle for anything less than perfect (or at least, I cannot think of anything that would make this better so it might as well be done), but she can't get there until you do.

[matrixbearer2024]

Highkey just a funny shitpost idea I thought of while scrolling through the Vox x Reader tag.

Like remember when Vox was calming Valentino down during his tantrum in episode 2 and at first he was like: "Hahaha Val don't make a scene-" before losing his marbles because Alastor was eventually brought into the picture-

I'd imagine if his S/O was there she'd be throwing that same thing at him too, like: "Calm down hun, it's been 7 years, besides- you can't just cause a scene outright because of him returning!" etc. etc. and they throw his advice towards Valentino back at him.

But we all know what happens in "Stayed Gone" so of COURSE that doesn't happen. It took less than ten minutes for the TV man to have a freak out so bad it caused a blackout in the entire ring. So I'd think S/O would just be waiting with the other Vees holding a flashlight that shines on the door when Vox returns and it's just one huuuuge:

"I told you guys he would."

"And what did he say to me? Oh right, 'we have an image to uphold'?"

"Hun, what did I say?"

"...." *grumbling* "Just shut up."

If it wasn't apparent- yes I currently am obsessed over this crazy TV man and he is my current fixation it's unREAL

[orcarnage]

I don't know if I'm just deranged but.... I think this is it, this is the point where things went irreparably south between Guts and Griffith.

Let me try to explain it; in this scene, had guts spoken his mind, it would likely have prevented him from leaving the hawks altogether. Griffith asked this not because he thought he might be cruel, he knows he is. He asked because he wanted to know what Guts, thought; he wanted reassurance. He asked this to Guts knowing he'd reply with something akin to this, because it is something familiar. He knew Guts would downplay it, give some sort of 'and you ask ME?' kind of response.

This was the wrong choice. Griffith predicted it would be this way, and he proved himself right, because he always does that, doesn't he? What he did here was essentially just shouting into a void. Griffith is not content with this arrangement, having Guts just follow him as a soldier, and had he known Guts also wanted to stand equal to him, this scene would have gone a completely different route. This scene separated them, it put them each back into their roles, a leader, and one who is below him.

The face that Griffith makes when he asks that question, his expressions are very delicate but it is a deliberately big panel. His eyes are determined, but he's tense. His eyebrows are about to furrow, his posture is really stiff, and he hesitates. The sorrow in his words is insane, I'm going insane. HE NEEDS YOU TO HOLD HIM!!! GUTS YOU DUMB FUCK!!!

And then this HORRIBLE {affectionate} CONTINUATION.

God this was awful. You said exactly what he expected you to, you ruined the opportunity to speak your mind, im losing my marbles. GUTS IM PUSHING YOU INTO THE SEWER.

That fucking smile. Its so forced. This is the point where Guts puts Griffith on a level he sees himself as being below. This is the point where Griffith realizes his dream will come at a cost.; forever elevated above his peers, unable to stand shoulder to shoulder with Guts, something Guts accidentally made clear with his comment. And Griffith can do nothing but accept it. This will cause him to cling to his dream harder than ever, and Guts will seek to elevate himself to stand beside Griffith. They're so physically close, but they're worlds apart. THIS COULD HAVE BEEN FIXED!!! OH THE TRAGEDY!!!! THE TRAGEDY!!!!! MIURA SENSEI, WHY?????

Anyways I'm very passionate thanks for coming to my ted talk feel free to add on or argue or discuss i just wanted to analyze this scene a bit specifically due to the face Griffith makes.

[sgiandubh]

Huh?

They went to Ostende (I prefer the French name, so this is what I am using), they had their red carpet, Vos' speech about how wonderful S is and they revealed the pavement star.

S and Tomlinson. Together. For TCND, of course and nothing else. As co-stars (was she tense, or am I losing my marbles, here?), celebrated and pampered by the Belgian cinema scene. Not the biggest, nor the most competitive in the world. Let's call a cat, a cat: the Ostende Festival is a very recent addition (2007) to the European regional film festivals' scene.

Then why on Earth did he mention OL, broom triumphantly in hand?

Oh, and for the fun part, a readily served Insta comment that immediately sent *urv in a frenzy. Remind me next time I congratulate anyone I know on socials, to put a screaming disclaimer somewhere explaining I am not exactly a whore:

[ Later Edit]: well, then. It was the Podium MC guy who mentioned OL. But why? Just to introduce S to the OL fans who made 99% of the audience, anyways?

Things that still make you go hmmm.

[atomicradiogirl]

The Best House MD Scene

"You'd be surprised what you can live with."

In season 2, episode 6 of House MD “Spin” written by Sara Hess, there is a scene that I consider to be one of the best, if not the best, scenes of House. In the scene, Cameron is talking to Wilson alone in House’s office about how she cheated on her dying husband with his best friend while he was in the hospital. A conversation that is related to Wilson’s adulterous behavior and plethora of divorces. To relate to her story, Wilson tells Cameron that his relationship with his second wife, Bonnie, ended not because she was sick and he needed someone to cling to, but because he met someone that made him feel funny and good and he didn’t want to let that feeling go. Cameron looks at him in understanding. Wilson goes on to say that Cameron isn’t to blame for cheating on her husband since she couldn’t control her emotions, to which Cameron replies “No, just my actions.” When Wilson realizes that she didn’t sleep with him. Cameron says that she couldn’t live with herself if she did. Wilson gives a devilish smile in response, a silence that speaks volumes, and says, “You’d be surprised what you can live with,” and leaves the office.

This scene is so impactful, not because of any angst or emotional weight but because of the parallel and implications of this scene. Cameron and Wilson are characters who both interact but don’t really have a close relationship. This is one of the only instances where they seem to have a genuine emotional understanding of each other. There is also a very strong parallel between them, as they are both emotional and caring people who thrive on being needed by others. But most importantly, they both love broken people and the ultimate broken person, House. Cameron is still grappling with her feelings for House and the lack of gendered language used by Wilson as well as the general knowledge that there is no one else he could possibly be talking about, along with the fact that this conversation is literally happening in House’s office, solidly proves that this “mystery person” Wilson is talking about is House. “You’d be surprised what you can live with” might not necessarily mean that he slept with House, but it definitely confirms that there was at least a level of emotional cheating on his ex-wife with him. Something that is actually proven as the reason his second marriage with Bonnie ended. His being too devoted to helping House after his infarction was a primary reason. House making Wilson feel “funny” could be a way of Wilson saying he fell in love with House, or maybe House just made him feel needed in a way that Wilson couldn’t resist. 

Regardless of how you read between the lines, the implication here is clear. Both Cameron and Wilson love House, and both of them are bonding in this scene over not having control over their emotions, especially over House. To me, “You’d be surprised what you can live with” is Wilson saying he can live with his feelings for House and he can live with knowing that he would do anything for him as well as a general acceptance that he could live with emotionally or physically cheating on his ex-wife with House. Cameron says nothing to this statement, and there is no follow-up to this conversation in the rest of the episode or the show. But it alone sets up an understanding in the audience of why Cameron cheated on her husband as well as why Wilson drops everything for House at any whim. It isn’t confirmed until 6 seasons later, but this is the start of the many cleverly placed obvious hints that Wilson loves House, despite his feelings being deeply repressed and seemingly unreciprocated for the majority of the show or throughout their relationship that we, the audience get to see. This scene stands out as a rare moment of cross-character connections that we don’t often get to see in House. From side characters. Yes, it is about House and what he means to both of them, but it delves into the shared inner experiences of these two characters, whom we get pieces of understanding throughout the show. This scene is my favorite scene of House, and while it might not be the most flashy or cinematic, it is the pure example of the show’s outstanding writing. 

[casmick-consequences]

something has been brought to our attention by yummy_lavender_soap on Instagram, and i can’t not talk to y’all about it

the scene where lucius finds jim’s clothing, he looks like he’s been strolling for a while (probably walked past here already) and looks confused as to why there’s suddenly clothing on this rock.

there’s a specific detail abt this scene that makes me lose my fucking marbles, though

do u see it?

DO U SEE IT???

LIKE?????? HELLO?????

THIS WAS IN EPISODE 2!!!! BEFORE THEY HOOKED UP IN THE RATIONS CLOSET IN EPISODE 5!!!

Which makes it either 1 of the following:

- Lucius and Pete have been dating for a while, and they just haven’t had sex yet which is why they had that awkward thing at the end of their "rations rump"

- They HAVE had sex, and they’re just awkward idiots in love by default

- They have not been dating yet, but Lucius developed a crush on Pete in the meantime (supported by the fact that homeboy can not stop staring at him in the first episode) and he put this down bc Pete can’t read anyway and so won’t know what it means

i am OBSESSED WITH THEM AND I NEED MOREEEEE!!!

[zensations35]

I Now Pronounce You Allergic (LSSR)

Yeahhh I FINALLY FINISHED IT!! I'm sorry it took forever but IT'S WORTH IT! Ahem...please enjoy Ren and Sasha's first totally-not-a-date where they BOTH find themselves allergic to the flowers at their friends' wedding--and then proceed to have a holdback challenge. Spice warning, yes there is snzfucking!

Skye helps me put the finishing touches on my makeup. I line my lids with blue and pink and a bold purple. 

“Is bi pride appropriate for a lesbian wedding?”

Skye laughs. “Abby won’t care. Kadie,” she trails off, “Who knows with her these days.” Skye clasps hands under her chin and coos. “You look gorgeous.”

Skye helped me pick out a subtly sexy midnight blue dress that I’d been eyeing for weeks but didn’t think I could pull off. It cups my skin so tight it’s like an aura as opposed to a dress.

“How many times have you reassured me about clothes?” Skye’s hand flicks toward my ass--I love the way my ass looks in this dress. 

I pair the dress with silver earrings and bracelet. A purple bandana wraps my hair, the bulk of it gathered in a neat bun at the back.

Skye’s face illuminates as she scrolls through her phone. “Ren’s almost here.”

“Are you sure about this?”

“Absolutely. I’m not wanted there--too much history--and! Leo has tickets to Excalion! I’d honestly rather be there.”

“Than your friends’ wedding??”

Skye’s brows rise, “Than an ex’s wedding who can’t stand me? Yes.”

“Fair point.”

Ren picks me up ten minutes later. He’s dressed not unlike he does when he goes to work. Suit, tie, vest, but…is that glitter on his cheek? Skye and I share a look and I see that ‘he’s so adorable’ look on her face. 

The venue is big--bigger than I expected from what Ren’s told me about one of the brides. Wide pillars, an archway the size of twelve Rens, marble fucking floors?? Who needs that??

Ren leads me inside and noise surrounds us, people chatting and laughing. I’m swallowed by sound and scents and--

My body turns to iron and I stop walking. Ren startles and looks at me with confusion. But my eyes are fixed on the tables. The tables with bright, purple, bushy…flowers. A very specific flower. 

“Ah,” Ren hums as if it makes complete sense. “Yes, I was afraid of this.”

I stare at the offensive flowers. If looks could shank you in a back alley, those flowers would be a crime scene. My lips pinch. The chatter around me numbs to a dull hum. Everything loses focus. 

The flowers start to warble and blur behind a saline lens. My sight is compromised. My nose sucks all of the energy out of my other senses. As if it’s putting on a damn light show.

I feel my lip twitch. I hone in on the tickle--the wretched sensation that’s going to ruin this whole experience. My lips form a crescent scrunch and I hear myself growl.

“Ahm…” Ren leans next to me. “Sasha?” he tips his head down to look at me and I jerk to the side. “Are you scrunching your nose?”

“No,” I say, but it comes out all congested and 100% unconvincing. 

Ren lifts his brows. “Hm. I see.”

“Hxsh-T!” 

His head snaps toward me as I recover and I feel my bones shrink. Fuck. I shoot him a don’t say a word look and he clamps his lips shut. “No. You saw nothing.” I refuse to let this be a thing. Even though, as we head toward our table, I find it overflowing with the atrocious bouquet and--

“Hyk-TSH-iah!” I snuffle and wipe my eyes with my fingers. Ren hands me a cloth napkin and I try not to glare at him as if this is his fault. 

We’re seated at a four-person table and across from us are two other people. One of them is a very tall, very burly woman who could be on the cover of a weight lifting magazine. Her slinky copper hair is fluffed at the top and pulled into an amalgamation of a ponytail-slash-braid. I can’t imagine an actual salon doing that to her, so it was probably a homemade hair concoction. 

The man she’s seated next to is…significantly smaller. Like, he looks so thin, I’m pretty sure a medium-sized breeze would knock him over. His wrists are bony and I think I see a purple bruise in the crook of his elbow. He also has a cloud of red curls and a matching spray of freckles dotting his face like the woman does. 

I feel my nose threatening to misbehave again and I instinctively look for the champagne. There’s a glass in front of me next to a sheet of paper for each table setting. I inspect it closer and my stomach flips. 

It’s a bingo sheet. There are things like ‘brides kiss without prompt’, ‘Anne talks about her beanie babies’, and--

“Ren sneezes during the best man speech?” the burly woman blurts in a thick drawl. A throaty cackle burst from her, not unlike that of a hyena. “Do you see this, Ikka?” she prods at the text, nudging the man next to her. 

“Please, Iris,” His voice is rich and dull at the same time, accent a strange twang, as if he spent time in the UK and Texas, but not enough to fully form either accent.  

“It’s just funny, right?” her cheeks dimple with a grin. Her voice is raw and boisterous as if she really is finding everything hilarious. 

My eyes fall back onto the phrase: Ren sneezes during the best man speech. It’s right up top. What..the…heck, vanillas?

As if on cue, I hear the raspy intake of air right next to me. And the table jolts as Ren’s knees knock into it at the same time he jerks into a rigid, “HxSZg!” 

I flush and can’t help my eyes rounding. Oh gods…him too?? 

He flashes me a sheepish look and rakes a finger against his nose. “I think we will get at least one point.”

I snort, “You did not…”

Another keening cackle from the lady across the table. “Oh shit, Ikka! That’s him,” she gyrates her wrist toward Ren. She props her chin on her upturned palm. “Tell me, Ren,” she says with a mixture of mischief and amusement, “Do you sneeze a lot?”

The man next to her groans and rolls his eyes. “I am so sorry,” he says to Ren. “She thinks she’s hilarious.”

“Well, I am, ain’t I?”

“Ren!” a floaty voice perks us all up and I see one of the brides hurrying toward us. Her brown hair is braided in a ring around her face and her cheeks are sunny and dimpled.

“Abigail,” Ren stands and lets her scrunch him with a hug. She pulls back and takes his hands, brimming with joy. “I’m so glad you made it! Gosh! I was worried people wouldn’t come because there’s no ceremony but--Ah! Is that your…date?” her eyes flick to me. 

Ren gestures to me, “This is Sasha--Skye’s girlfriend. She is indeed in attendance with me.”

Abigail’s lips form a ring, “Oh, I see. Yeah, I’m so sorry about Skye, but,” she laughs awkwardly, “you know how Kadie is.” A knowing eye roll as her pink lips pucker.

Ren pats her hand, still attached to the V of his suit. “All is well. Skye is with our boyfriend Leo, seeing a concert.”

Abigail laughs uneasily. “Oh, well, good.” Her gaze warms. “I hope you have a good speech prepared. Kadie thinks you could get AI to write it and it would sound exactly like you.”

“I assure you, I did no such thing.”

My face is so tingly right now and I wish Abby would just leave so I can escape to the--

“SS-Ktsh!” I immediately shudder, arms wrapping around my midsection as I tuck my chin into my collar. Oh if I thought one was going to be enough--”Hit’SHKkk!” I was a fool. “Hax-SHIEU!” 

“Oh,” Abigail trails fingers over her chest. “Are you okay?”

I nod, eyes still squeezed shut, free hand roaming the table for the--

Cloth presses into my palm and I feel the brush of Ren’s fingers. “She is well, I assure you. We seem to be experiencing similar issues with,” he gestures to the bouquets. 

“Oh my gosh--I’m so sorry!” Abby coos. “Seriously, Kadie insisted, even though I said you were allergic. She was like, ‘he can just take a benadryl’ and I was--”

“It is quite alright, Abby. We are fine.”

“Are you sure? Because I think my grandma has Claritin?” 

I perk up, “C or D?”

“Uhh, I’m not sure but you could go ask her,” Abigail points to an elderly woman seated next to the bar, with an oxygen tank next to her.

“Uhhh, maybe,” I lie. I’m definitely not sneezing enough to beg an old woman for allergy pills. It’d be just my luck to get her talking about her own allergy journey. I swear anyone over 60 loves to talk about the pollen count. Ydjjjehhhh...my teeth chatter involuntarily.

“Well, just let us know if you need anything!” Abby trills and floats away waving her fingers as if she’s boarding a plane. 

I use the cloth to wipe my eyes again and blow out a frustrated breath. 

“Sasha…” 

I tip my eyes to Ren who looks nothing but concerned. 

“Are you uncomfortable?”

I sniff, shunting my gaze. 

“Please, be truthful.”

I puff. “Yeah, I am.”

“Then we shall leave.”

My shoulders lock. “What! No! These people are your friends! You’re the best man!”

Ren leans down, leveling his liquid blue eyes with mine.

“Sasha, out of everyone here, you are my priority.”

I flush, my heart thrumming through my chest and neck.

“Are you able to handle it?”

I twist the cloth between my fingers, “I don’t know.”

Ren leans over the table, facing to the side so all I see is the apex of his jaw. But he does that single-knuckle rub motion that always always leads to--

*snf* “Hh…” 

I slam my eyes shut and do my best to think of banjo music. 

“Hg-gk…hh-hih!”

And…he stops. His parted lips close. He exhales. Sniffles. Looks at his phone and scrolls like nothing happened. 

I gape at him, my stomach flipping with butterflies. “Seriously?” I snap loud enough for the other table to turn their heads. 

Ren looks at me, flabbergasted. “Was that wrong?”

“Yes!”

“So, I should have just…let it happen?”

“No!”

“Then…” Ren lifts his hands in a shrugging motion. I groan, burying my face in my hands, using it as an excuse to rub my own itchy nose with my palms. 

“Hmm…” Ren taps a pen on a piece of paper. He spins it around and scribbles on it.

Ren 1 Sasha 5

I peer at it, then him, eyes lidded with suspicion. “What the hell is this?”

“A game.”

“A game?”

Ren leans back, “Whoever sneezes the most loses.”

My brows shoot up. “Are you joking?”

“Not particularly.”

I drop back down to the paper. I feel a buzzing in my limbs, as if I’m preparing for a marathon. It feels…exciting? Oh fuck it. My lips tick up and energy rushes through me.

“You’re on, Grayson.”

He smirks.

Ren eyes my champagne glass and points a slender finger. “Do you need another?”

I frown at him, “Will you be okay if I…”

Ren softens. “I will be fine, Sasha. I have been sober for a while now. I am capable of restraint.”

I nod, “Then sure. But grab some strawberries too. And apples! And maybe…”

Snickers from across the table. I look over to see the fitness model laughing. She sees me looking and smiles, wide and warm. “Y’all are so cute!”

I blush and turn to Ren but he’s already standing to leave for the food table.

“Um,” I wrinkle my napkin and clear my throat, “So, how do you know the brides?”

She continues to smile, “I don’t.”

I pause, waiting but she doesn’t continue. 

“Alright, then your date does?”

She bursts into snorts of laughter, wide hands cupping her angular mouth, “Ikka,” she uses her elbow to nudge him and I hear him let out a tiny whine, “she thinks you’re my date.”

His lips crimp in amusement. “So did that other woman--the elderly one.”

My head spins like I’m being exorcized, “Wh-where?” 

“The lady,” he points to a plump graying woman currently a table away, scolding people there for something. Her hair is a curly swoop over her brow and I see at least four crosses on her ears and necklace. 

“Maybe we should play along,” the man, Ikka, says. “I don’t want to explain how we’re related.”

“We don’t have to go into detail, just tell her we’re half siblings.”

He drains his glass and rolls his eyes, “So she can ask why? No thanks.”

My ears prickle when I hear the so obvious sound my brain is fucking attuned for: hitching breaths. My eyes trail the room, searching, but I hear it before I see anything. 

“HkXGn! H-Gk’dsz!” 

It’s quiet, so miniscule I’m sure there are people at the buffet who didn’t even hear it. But I did. 

When Ren arrives and deposits the drink and plate, my lips quirk up, “Two points for you.”

He looks alarmed, “You heard those?”

A laugh bubbles in my throat, “I could hear them from another room, Lawrence.”

I hear the braying laugh as the burly woman claps her hands together. “I think Kadie did the seating, Kah!” 

“Iris, don’t fucking start--”

My left eye twitches. Apparently there’s wedding drama here that I want nothing to do with. I decide right then: I’m sticking to a small ceremony if I get married. 

Ren passes me a plate of fruits, “I was not certain if you wanted red or blackberries, so I took both.”

Iris’s pitched voice calls, “Why do you talk like that?” She’s looking at Ren and my heart sinks.

Ren’s cheeks harden, lines appearing on his forehead. A flare of familiar anger sparks in his eyes as his voice sharpens. “I speak this way so I do not speak,” his chin tips at her, “that way.”

My hand flies out to smack his, “Ren! That was extremely rude!”

He buries his lips in his teeth, eyes shiny from chagrin. He sighs, brushing a thumb across his glass, leaving a scar of condensation behind, “I apologize,” he says to the woman. 

To her credit, she just shrugs and resumes talking to her…brother? But I’m indignant for her. I glare at Ren and frown. “Ren, I get that you have trauma about your accent, but not everyone felt the need to change theirs. Don’t be a jerk.”

Ren nods, “Yes. You are absolutely correct.”

I nod and feel better. I was hoping that wouldn’t turn into an argument. I eat some of my strawberries and the sugar rush makes me kind of giddy. Until I forget where I am and take too big of a breath through my nose. 

My synapses light up and I taste panic hot on my tongue. I’m already tearing up, moisture running down my cheeks. My makeup I worked so hard on is smudging. Fuck. I fumble in my purse for clean tissues but I come up empty. What the hell? I always bring a pack everywhere. Whatever. Lost cause. 

I squeeze my fingers around my necklace to stop it from flopping but, “Hih-XSShh-ieh!” the sneeze rocks my neck, my shoulders. My chin yanks and my hand snaps the metal, the silver chain pooling around my wrist like a liquid snake. 

“Fuck!” I snarl but I’m not done, “Adj’SK!!” I sneeze viciously into the hand holding the chain, feeling the tang of iron on my lips. This can not get any worse. 

I throw myself to my feet, fingers steepled over my nose. Tears blur my vision as hitches flutter against my tongue, “Hhh-ieh! IEH!” My feet fly over the ground, carrying me so fast I stumble. At the same time I’m careening toward the ground, my lips sputter, “Hiex-SHIEEw- UGH!” 

Strong hands wrap around my shoulders and pull me straight up to a standing position so that I’m no longer about to flatten my nose on the tile. I blink away allergic tears as Iris beams at me. She doesn’t seem put off by my splotched, wet face at all. 

“You okay, sweetie?”

I mutter something unintelligible and then cough. “Uhm, kh, yes. I-I’m good. Thank you.” 

“No problem, doll. Can I escort you to the bathroom?”

“Oh, no I can get there fine.”

“I’m on the way myself, but I’ll wait if you need privacy.”

My wrists wag left and right, “Oh, no it’s fine!” My people pleasing ass overrides the need to be alone. “We can both go.”

I let Iris lead the way into the restroom where she takes a stall and I use the mirror to clean up. When she comes out of the stall I'm blowing my nose and apologizing every time I sniffle.

“Ikka gets sick a lot--snot don’t bother me,” she says as she washes her hands.

I titter with her but there’s no way I can explain my special brand of embarrassment. So I take some soft purple tissues and blow my nose. But just when I get it clear, the fire reignites, sending me spilling back into the fluff. 

“Ha-XSSH! Iee’TSHH-ieu! EiSHH!” I snort thickly, “Agh, whad the fugk?” 

Iris rorars a laugh and swipes the napkins, “Yall must be allergic to lavender.”

“Uh,” I sniffle, “Yeah. W--” I point at the cloth, “Are those…”

“Lavender scented,” her eyes shimmer with amusement and I flame bright. “Man,” she chuckles, stuffing the soggy tissues in the trash hole, “They really had it out for you two didn’t they?”

I groan and flick on the faucet. “Seems so.”

 “I can ask Ikka for unscented ones. He usually has some.”

I shake my head, “No-no, that’s okay, I…” I scrunch my nose and clamp my hands over my face. “I just need…a minute….”

Iris pops a shoulder, “Alright. Well, good luck.” She swaggers out of the bathroom, leaving me to my mess. I clean up as best I can and fix my makeup, spraying a setting liquid over it once I’m done. 

It’s been quite a while and I turn to head back, but the drinks swirl in my head and I pause. My eyes land on the stack of lavender tissues. 

I don’t think too hard about it, but I find myself stuffing a few into my purse before fleeing the scene.

When I get out of the restroom, I hear people calling “Toast! Toast!” and I see Ren standing up with a flute of sparkling water. 

I risk a glance at him staring smugly at me as he crosses the room, a cocky grin on his face.. He lifts a finger in the air and tapped the side of his nose before holding up 4 fingers.

Oh. It’s fucking on. 

I hurry to pass Ren him on my way to the table, digging in my bag.

“You’ll need these,” I don't meet his eyes as I stuff the tissues in his hand. I scurry away, shame leaving a hot trail behind me. I don't know why I did that--why did I do that?? I’m a godsdammed cheater, that’s why. 

I sit and watch as innocently as i possibly can. Ren stands iron straight at the front of the room, but his expression is soft, eyes twinkling in the chandelier lights. He addresses everyone and gestures to the brides on either side of him. 

“I met Kadie in college. We were good friends. She was always keeping me in line.”

A knowing chuckle hums across the room. An inside joke. Ren holds his arm toward, “Abigail let me crash on her couch for most of my young adult life.”

“Me and Leo,” she quips.

“Touche”. Ren lowers his voice for dramatic effect. “She had to kick me out quite often once she met Kadie.”

A ruckus of laughter at that. Abigail blushes but Kadie takes her hand, amused. Ren knows what he’s doing. Playing the crowd. Like a good DM. He begins the next phase of his speech but I can hear the hints of congestion stirring his words into a thicker drawl.

A few people have their bingo cards ready. I’d be lying if I wasn’t thinking about it. Ren pauses mid-word, breath ragged, fumbling in his pocket. 

“Apologies,” he croaks, “It s-hhh…seems you shall--snf! Have a bingo point af--” he folds one of the tissues over his nose, “Hk’TZZHHH!” 

“Ikka,” the woman at our table rasps, “Quit staring and mark it down!” 

My brain pushes their convo aside. I watch Ren’s nose, his chin. Bobbing up and down with each hitch, inhale, sigh. Eyes lock onto him as if his hypnotic buildup has charmed the snakes of the show. 

“Hnng…” the silence in the room is as solid as a truck. I can’t speak for anyone beyond my line of sight but my entire table is watching him intently. Seriously, why are they watching so hard? Do vanillas just--

“Wait,” Iris points from me to the bathroom tissues. “Did you--”

I slam back my glass of champagne, ignoring the question.

“XsST-hieu!! EGSX-EIU!” Ren siffles thickly and dabs his nose but that’s only making it worse. 

Seven. 

I lift up, ready to fly to his defense, but Ren crumples the tissue with a sorrowful sniffle and tucks the pack into his breast pocket to finish the speech.

“My apologies. Or, perhaps not?” Ren draws another laugh from the crowd. 

Iris smacks the bingo sheet, “Focus, Icabod! We’re close to winning!”

Okay. I’m getting kind of sus here. Maybe I’m just in fet brain overdrive but I have to know. Ren finishes his speech and ambles toward us, flicking tears from his watery eyes and slumps into the chair with a groaning sigh.

“Ren,” I rasp when I’m safely close enough to him to prevent being heard from the others. “Hey!” I wrap my fingers around his tie and pull his neck down so I can speak with him. And wow this actually is hot. No wonder Skye does it so much. I wobble a little and ohhh gods I'm getting drunk. 

I release him once he’s nice and close and whisper, “Rub your nose.”

He jerks back, “What?!” 

I groan, rolling my head, “Not like that. It’s…it’s for science.” 

Ren follows my gaze to Icabod and he hums, “Ah.” He tips his head down and sniffles. He brushes the underside of his nose, slow and deliberate. His eyes flutter and he lets out an exaggerated gasp.

“Igh!! Hiiegh…”

I stare open mouthed for way too long. Christ he’s good at this. I’m about to just let him attempt a fake before I remember there was a point to this.

I sneak a look at Icabod and… our expressions could have matched 100%. He might even be drooling. Not that I blame him. Rens still going, toying around with teasing hitches and soft gasps. Gods what must that be like in bed? 

WHAT? I have clearly had too much champagne. 

I sneak another look at Icabod to see him staring intently at his fork. And his eyes flick toward Ren. And back to the fork. 

I am floored. The odds are insane. But I do know those two are friends of Skye. Or aquaintances. Maybe I’m not the only person she’s met online…

Two claps bring our attention to the floor and Ren stops his fake buildup in milliseconds with a soft breath and a quick nose swipe. The man should be an actor.

 “Alright everyone, we’re having a freeze dance competition. Now, pick your partners, and dance! When we blow the whistle, you’re gonna freeze! Don’t. Move. Any movement, intentional or not, will disqualify you for the prize.”

“What’s the prize?” I ask.

Ren glides up next to me, knuckling his nose, “I do not think it will matter.”

I open my mouth to ask him why, but that’s a dumb question. His watery eyes and the buzzing of my own nostrils I’m desperately trying to ignore would destroy us both.

“Maybe it’s for the best we sit out. I can’t even dance.”

Ren looks astounded. “You cannot dance?” 

“I…no. Not like…ballroom dancing.”

“Then,” he holds out a hand, “I shall teach you.”

I pause. Dancing is Skye and Ren’s thing. I feel like this would be an intrusion of their sacred custom. But Ren waggles his fingers as if groping for my hand. “Skye will not mind.”

How does he read me like that?

He takes me by the hand and pulls me immediately into a spin. I’ve seen him and Skye do this enough that I don’t stumble. I may not have participated before, but I’m far from a dance virgin. 

We dance the intro of the song for a couple minutes, and I can’t keep the smile off my face. I feel so dashing in my sexy dress, tearing up the floor like this. 

Ren cradles my back, hands strong and gentle as he dips me low. My head tilts back and I’m overwhelmed by the scratchy scent of lavender. A busboy passes by carrying another bouquet. I jacknife upright, palm flattening my lips and nose as two very not stealthy sneezes wrench my spine, “Hiex-SHEW! HAAh-TSHHieu!” 

Ren lifts me and swirls us, dancing uninterrupted. I gulp air and glower, “That was cheating!” 

“It is not cheating. I am within the boundaries of the rules we set.”

“We didn’t set any rules!”

Ren smirks knowingly. I honestly have no room to complain though. I cheated first. 

“Freeze!” the voice rocks adrenaline into my veins and we both instinctively still. Ren’s hands are on the small of my back and propped on my hip; my arms are draped over his shoulders, one palm spread behind his neck. 

It feels so intimate. And…I swallow, my body reacting to him already. 

It’s about to get much more intimate.

His face is flushed so pink I’d think he was drunk. His teeth grind and he snarls a hitch. “Sasha,” his breath is hot and moist, barely audible but bold enough to send wracking shivers down my spine. “I am not…going to last…”

Oh gods. He did not just say that. 

Abigail moves toward us. Fuck fuck! What are we going to do? Ren’s nose scrunching isn’t doing the trick, and if he sneezes on me, I’m going to lose my goddamn mind. 

His fingers tighten on my waist as he sucks in a breath, and I make a decision. My hand sweeps from his neck across his cheek, his skin hot as a brand, and my fingers close over his firm nostrils.

He exhales, relief shuddering through him, and I swear I absorb that shudder and feel it quaking my thighs. 

I’m. Grabbing. Ren’s. Nose. I’m grabbing Ren’s nose! In public! What the fuck am I thinking?? 

I could tell myself that I just want to win--that’s all this is. But I’ve been lying to myself for too long. I don’t give a flying fuck if we win this game. I wanted to touch him. To feel his nostrils twitch under my grip, his breath bathe my wrist--oh gods. My body is a livewire. I’m worried I’m going to vibrate myself off the dance floor. 

“Sasha,” he grunts, “you may release me.”

Electricity zings through my arm and I snatch my hand away as if burned. 

Ren’s eyes glitter and his mouth curves, “That rather turned you on.”

“And I think that rather turns you on.” My bold comment comes out of nowhere.

The corner of his lip ticks up, “Of course.”

I didn’t think I could burn hotter but my blood feels ten times heavier.

Asshole. Is he just picking at me like friendly banter…or does he…want me?

This isn’t the first time we’ve flirted with each other. Over the course of all our friendships, the on-off-on-off of all fucking four of us…it’s godsdamn exhausting. And it’s wearing me down--physically and emotionally.

Ren looks at me with those concerned furrowed brows. I want him to say the same thing. The same thing I’m thinking, feeling. I…I want…

A clap brings us out of the sexual deviancy of the moment and Abigail calls, “That’s a wrap!” 

Abby glides toward us and squees. “You two were precious!” she trills. 

“Did we--” 

“You didn't win,” she frowns. 

“Erm, no, I know. But,” I fidget, coiling and uncoiling my fingers. “Did we embarrass ourselves?”

Abby chuckles. “Not at all. The other competitors were thrilled--” Abby poked Ren’s nose affectionately making his nostrils flare a bright pink. Why did that make me jealous?

Ren steps forward, leading Abby as she chats about ….

“Please just do this one thing for me, please!”

“W-what thing?” 

“The entire guest list has been taking photo booth pics so we can scrapbook it all vintage like. Will yall participate?” Abby begs.

Ren’s lips twist. “Alright. Of course. For you.”

With a squeal from Abby, we are ushered into a long hall, wider than average. It’s filled with nostalgic photos of celebrities like Elvis, The Beatles…is that Shirley Temple?? Did they even have photo booths back then? Oh gods, this whole fucking hallway is a beacon for how bad I am at history. 

In a misshapen nook sits a photo booth. A fancy one--it has a door and everything. Wow. Kadie went all out with this reception. I’m assuming she wanted to wow her guests to make up for having to univite them to the actual ceremony in 2020.

With some nudging, Abigail watches us climb in and shoots me a thumbs up. “I gotta go kiss ass to my mother in law but it’s pretty self explanatory. Take some funny ones! I’m making a scrapbook!” 

Ren is already inside and when I climb in, I find it more spacious than I expected, but not enough for us to sit side-by-side. I may have a smaller waist, but Ren has bulk in his thighs and shoulders that just won’t work. 

“Well,” I say, “I guess I’ll sit on your leg, if that’s ok.”

Ren nods and shifts so I can perch near his knee, pulling my dress down in a habitual need to unbunch my clothes. I slide over his leg and catch myself when his fingers curl around my hips to steady me.

“Is this alright?”

“Yeah, thanks,” I resume shifting. We look at the screen in front of us and I squint, searching for the switch to activate it. “Where…” we start fussing around, both seeking the mechanism but coming up empty. 

I groan, “Why is something so vintage so hard for us to figure out?” I feel the edge of anger on my tongue, “It’s so different from every phone booth I’ve used.”

“As opposed to the many phone booths you’ve been in?”

“I was young once, Ren. In the 90s. So, yes.”

“Hm,” he chuckles. “Were they…” the word drops, thickening with dull congestion that makes my spine straighten like a steel rod. I jerk to the side, putting the shadows of his jawline in my peripheral. 

“Are you…” I swallow a desert in my mouth. 

He rubs a lip under his teeth, “Would it be better for me to say yes, or no?”

“What does that mean?”

“It m-means…” his words begin to stumble, “If denying I am not hhh--” his long fingers climb to his face, sawing languidly under his nose. 

“Worse.”

“Then, my nose itches and I hhh--believe I might--hh-igh…sneeze.”

I flush hot and oh, I was wrong. That phrase was so much worse. Better. Augh I am absolutely incapable of untangling the mess of emotions flooding me like a rainstorm. I feel myself squirm, the photo switch forgotten in lieu of, “Ren…”

I feel his hand on my hip tightening--exactly the same way it did on the dance floor. Oh gods…if there was any doubt, it’s gone: flung out the window. 

He’s going to sneeze. I’m on his lap. Fuuuuuck. 

“Ren,” I feel my throat grate against his name, “I should go, I--”

“I will be fine,” he sniffles and his head does a small shake that makes my spine melt. His voice is honey, “It’ll pass.” 

A contraction. He’s really fucking trying.

“Uhh, I don’t think it will,” I say flatly.

“I can…handle it. Trust me.”

“Trust me,” I wiggle to stand but my knees tangle and I end up slipping back, falling into him. His hands wind around my middle, one thumb skimming the slit decorating my hip. 

“Ah-apologies, I--” 

I should try to get up again. I know I should. But his grip is firm, steady, as if I’m his anchor in a storm. I hear him sniffle right in my ear and gods I shiver from head to toe. It makes my shoulders wring, my stomach thrum, and my thighs…

I hear him gasp and feel his hips rock forward. He lets out a small moan and I realize I’ve squirmed myself to the ridges of his lap. And Oh. Fuck, this fabric must be so thin because I can feel exactly how my arousal is affecting him. 

“Hh-ieh--” He squeezes my body so hard a small gasp flees my throat. 

“Mmmmhh--!” there is no way the sounds I’m making are even remotely adjacent to ‘stop doing that please’. My body is in camp sneeze right now. 

“Hhh-ngh, Sahh…” His breaths come in grinding gasps and I’m not sure anymore if it’s from holding back the sneeze or my ass rubbing against his cock. 

I’m too hot for this. I’m too horny for this. The unbelievable tension and teasing of the night all crashes into me in frantic, thought-erasing need. 

I can’t remember why this is a bad idea. I can’t remember that we’re in a public fucking place, in the middle of a wedding reception and it’s Not A Good Time. My panties are slick and wet, and I do more than wiggle--I writhe. Noises escape me in high pitches half breaths, matching his liquid gasps escaping his tilted mouth.

“Hhh-iehh--HEh!” 

I could stop this. I could get up. I could launch myself out of this photo booth as if I were a champagne cork and Ren wouldn’t stop me. But I don’t want to stop.

My back arches when I feel his head dip far enough for his nose to feather the skin of my neck. Oh fuck ohfuckohfuck-- My senses narrow to that spot, everything dulling around me as his lips pop apart, still buried in my neck, and--

“HGX-SHHZ!” 

Pleasure explodes inside of me. My body bucks and I ride him, rubbing myself back and forth over his trapped cock in a rocking motion. 

“Hieh--”

“Oh fucking gods!” 

“HY-ESHHUUU!” 

My orgasm unleashes, wracking my body, lighting every nerve inside me, pulling closed-lipped moans from my throat. “Mmmnn-gods fuck MMMNnnn!” My hands are clawing and scrunching any fabric they can get at--from the folds of my dress to Ren’s taut pants. He moans against me and I hear him swear, “F--uck…” 

My body collapses against him and I suck in air, my chest pulsing in time with my labia. He’s still hard against me, fingers delicate but firm as he sniffles thick and wet. 

“S-Sasha,” he grunts, “I…”

“Oh my gods.” My heartbeat turns from pounding to racing. 

We just dry humped in a wedding photo booth!

My hands slap my face. “What the fuck am I doing?” Gods, I must be so--

“Sasha,” Ren’s hand squeezes my shoulder. “If you permit me to leave first--”

“No,” I say quickly, tugging my bra strap back in place and smoothing my wrinkled bandana. “Anyone who overheard just heard me m-moaning and…you, uhh…”

“Sneezing?”

“Y-yeah. But that could have been me, and…”

Ren concedes, though he doesn’t look convinced. “As you wish.”

I don’t need him to believe me, I just need to get out of here. Now.

Hoping my makeup made it out unscathed, I crawl out, opening the door--thank gods there’s a door--and sliding out, eyes darting around to see if anyone is nearby.

“Hey there.” 

I freeze, my entire body jolting with panicked adrenaline. I turn to see Kadie staring at me, arms folded over her wide bosom, lips askew. Sparks in her sage eyes.

I flap my hands nervously, “I was just--” 

“I know what you were doing.” Her voice is firm but there’s a hint of a roguish gleam. 

My blood ices. “No, you don’t understand.”

She silences me with an upturned palm. “You do know I dated Skye, right?”

My jaw unhinges. Of course. Of fucking course she knows. She could probably see it all over my face all godsdamn day. 

My hands close over my face, “Oh my fuck,” I muffle. 

Kadie sighs, a heaving breath, “Look, I really don’t give two shits what you did in there. But I’d better not have to clean anything up.” At my alarm, she pressed the air with her hand, “Chill. No one else knows, or heard you. Just me.” She hands me a slim rectangle of paper. “Maybe watch the switch next time. You’re lucky I was here.”

She whirls and leaves me clutching three stacked images--muted and gray but there’s no doubting what’s going on in there. If I focus, I can see my O-face. IeeHHGGG. 

I crumple the pictures as Ren climbs out, brushing wrinkles from his suit. “What happened?” he asks.

I look at him, “Kadie heard us. And…saw…” I crunch the photos again for good measure. 

“I see.” Ren rakes a forked hand through his hair and it flops back over his brow with enviable ease. “Perhaps then, it is an opportune time to--”

“Bail?” I snort, “Sorry, I shouldn’t…”

“Yes. Bail.”

My chin juts up at him in confusion.

We make it out without being noticed. Ren even finds us a bathroom on the other end of the building to freshen up. I make sure to slather myself in deodorant. Everywhere. Yes, even my stomach and thighs. My underwear didn’t make it out unscathed. I pull my track pants out of my bag and go commando.

I have a tube top as well and I trade it for the dress. Now I look like I’m about to go to yoga but at least I don’t look like I just snzfucked a guy in a photo booth. 

In the hall, Ren is still wearing his suit. “You didn’t bring extra clothes?”

He pats his vest in various places as if to say and where would I put them?

I roll my eyes. “Whatever. I’m ready to get--HXST-Ieh! Out of here.” I grind my palm over my nose, furious it hasn’t finished with me yet.

Ren opens his palm and offers it to me. “As you wish. However, I have one more stop to make.”

We hurry toward the exit, not encountering any obstacles before we burst out into the windy air like a prison break. Ren and I lock eyes and let out twin snorts. 

“I’m impressed you kept your erection during that whole fit,” I giggle. 

“Years with Skye has tempered me. At this point I find myself sporting a partial even when I start to…”

 Oh fuck that’s hot.

I drink in the crisp air, hoping it’ll cool me off. I breathe deep and we head toward the car. 

We’re still sniffly on the drive. Allergy aftermath can last hours if you marinate long enough. Ren drives us to a strip center just downtown. He parks at a meter right outside, “A book store?” I drink in the cottagecore awning and the chalkboard sign announcing an author signing.

An author I know.

Anita Maez?!

Ren looks at me, smiling. Not smirking. Not grinning. Just…smiling. 

“Your ticket is anonymous,” he says, “If you do not wish to enter, no one will know you withdrew.”

My eyes are wide and I feel my heart set up camp in my throat. “Ren…” I swallow through the thickness. He remembered my favorite fucking author and made a point to buy me a ticket to meet her?? 

He hands me the ticket and I take it, unable to tear my eyes away from it. I virtually stumble toward the building, only pausing to look at Ren to make sure he’s really okay with this. He nods and waits outside to give me privacy.

In line, I can’t stop thinking about Ren. The lengths he went for me today. For me. My brain is a bonfire. It’s becoming very hard to not look for meaning in tonight. Ren, making up a game for us so I don’t freak out sneezing in public. Making sure I was comfortable the whole time with all of the weird conversations. How utterly safe I felt in that booth with him. I’ve only felt that safe with Skye and Leo. 

And now this. 

Is he doing these things for me because we’re friends? Or is this just Ren being…Ren? I realize I don’t know, really. I know him as a friend. As Skye’s lover. As Leo’s primary. But I can’t tell if he wants us to be closer or if he just does this kind of thing. 

 I send a quick text to Skye, but then it’s my turn for the meet and greet, and I shove all those thoughts aside to meet my hero.

Ren isn’t outside the shop when I exit but I peg his location instantly. He’s down the sidewalk near a corner, sneezing his head off.

I start counting, unable to help myself from lining my footsteps with each sneeze. He stops, finally, and sniffles, patting his nostrils with a purple tissue--oh. Those tissues. 

I rush over and snatch it from him, earning me a bewildered look between sniffles. “What--”

“Those are lavender scented,” I flush at his expression. “They’re…causing more problems than solving.”

Ren chuckles and shakes his head. “Well, that does explain quite a lot.”

I pop my hip and place a hand on it, “So, what are we at?” I tease. “After your whole,” I fan my fingers around his face. 

“Mmm. Seven. But as we are not specifically at the venue, they do not count.”

“Um, they absolutely count, Grayson. We didn’t set any rules, remember?”

He has the gall to look defeated right before he tips his head in a bow. “Very well. The final count is?”

“Me with 13, you with,” I grin smarmily, “16.”

“Hm,” he hums. “Would it be a stretch to say your author signing is your prize?”

“Fuck no. First, you had that planned before the game started. Second, I didn’t ask for it, third…” I stop ticking my fingers when I see the mischievous look on his face. The streetlamps have caught his eyes so they look like they’re dancing. And he’s somehow maneuvered his arm above his head, propping himself into one of those ‘hot boy’ movie leans the lead love interest always does.

I bite back a snort. Is he flirting? Is he doing the sexy man pose on purpose? 

“What, Sasha, would you like your prize to be?”

I want to laugh and cry and tell him he looks silly and obvious. That he’s not as sexy as he thinks he is. Even if it’s a godsdamn lie. He would have won if I hadn’t counted what happened outside here--another result of my cheating our game. And he still let me pick the prize. 

And what do I even want?

You.

The thought comes unbidden. Immediate. I want him. I want him the same way I want Skye and Leo. I want to throw our dynamic into the trash and just…be together. All of us. A true collective polycule.

I can’t tell if he heard me, but it’s obvious he knows what I’m thinking. My throat bobs. Fear grips my heart tight. What if what if what if-

Ren is closing the distance between us and I can feel the pull of his heat. My body is like a magnet, my thighs ablaze trying not to just crush him with my--

Down girl. You already went on that ride.

He’s over me now, his lips bowed and crimped. 

“What,” he rasps, the heat of his tone melting my resolve, “would you like, Sasha?”

Fuck it. Fuck all of it. I grab his tie and pull his face down toward me. His upper body jerks forward and he careens down--gods, no wonder Skye does this so much--and I kiss him. His lips are soft and strong and completely devastating me.

It doesn’t matter that I’ve technically kissed him before. This is our first kiss. An earth-shattering, lava-forming, creating new continents kiss. 

 He lets me lead him, his tongue flicking my lower lip, asking permission, and I invite him in. 

Vaguely aware of his hand on my waist, fingers wrapping and scrunching my shirt.

He lets out a small moan into my throat and all rational thought vanishes.

Fuck. I love him. I love them all. Skye, Leo, Ren. And it hardens my bones, softens my heart, steels my mind. 

This is how it was meant to be.

160 miles away

Backstage, the music is muffled. Skye and Leo are standing awkwardly, Skye shifting from left to right, eyes wide and focused on the yellowing floor beneath them. 

Leo’s lips drop and his heart pounds. “Are you…okay?”

Skye gives a half hearted nod as she pulls out her phone and reads the screen, illuminating the pink of her cheeks.

Leo looks up, toward the flashing lights ahead where the roar of the crowd coats the night. “I hope Ren and Sasha are having more fun than we are.”

Another nod, Skye’s chin jerking down. Leo hears a small hiccup disguised as a sigh. She pockets her phone and looks at him, something lighting her eyes in a way that makes him uneasy. 

“You ready for this?” she asks.

Someone screams ahead and both of their heads whip toward it. Skye’s hand closes around Leo’s, squeezing. 

“I think that’s our cue.”

To be continued…

[ladychota]

Masked Love

Pairing - Loki x Female Reader

Warnings - None, just fluff really (but lmk if you want me to add something)

Summary - You attend an Asgardian masquerade ball and meet a man who immediately piques your interest.

Word Count - 1.2k

Masterlist

The mask lies heavy on your face, its feathers tickling your temples and the jewels irritating your skin. You wish for nothing more than to take it off, but what's the point in a masquerade ball if you don't wear a mask? 

Besides, you're rather looking forward to the anonymity. Being able to go to a royal ball without fear of being judged for your social class or looked down upon for your family's status.

Your heels clack against the marble floors, each tile polished so much you can see your face in them. Your dress follows you like a loyal dog, the hem brushing your ankles delicately. The hallways are lit by hundreds of thousands of candles - some wall mounted, others hanging from the ceiling in stunning chandeliers; all emit a warm, welcoming glow. Guards stand both sides of every doorway, a spear clutched tightly in one hand while the other holds a round shield embellished with the Asgardian crest.

You hurry past them, excitement bubbling inside you as you walk through the huge, golden doors into the ballroom.

It's filled to the brim with people, each and every one of them in glittering ballgowns or slim, satin pieces; fine tuxedoes or traditional Asgardian robes. The room is alive with chattering and drinking, the air filled with the melodic sounds of laughter intertwining with music.

Walking down the stairs, you can't seem to take your eyes off the scene: it's picturesque, to say the least. You wander over to the side, watching as couples move to the centre of the ballroom, the orchestra beginning to play.

It feels magical.

You sigh and tear yourself away, heading towards the buffet as you wonder when you'll get a chance to do that. Perhaps you should go speak to someone, ask if they'd give you a dance. But, then again, you're not sure if you could deal with the rejection.

The buffet table is huge and filled to the brim with delicacies and foods you've never before seen. You're slightly overwhelmed at the choice, not sure what you should try and what you should ignore.

But then something catches your eye. Correction: someone.

A little ways across the table, a man stands holding some sort of half-eaten tart, his piercing green eyes set on you. Although, he doesn't look at you in a way that suggests he means harm; it's more of a soft look. You offer him a smile and continue searching the table, attempting to find something that looks tasty.

Your eyes - for some reason - land on the man again, your cheeks heating up at the realisation he's still looking right back at you. He points to his tart then brings a hand to his mouth, making the motion of a chef's kiss. You can't help the grin that plasters itself on your face.

Scanning the table once more, you spot something that looks rather like the pastry he's holding. You lift it up, point at it and tilt your head slightly, silently asking if it's the right one. He nods.

You take a bite, your eyes widening at how tasty it is. It's sweet, but not so sweet that it's sickly. The pastry is buttery and flaky and perfect in every way. The man grins as you nod in agreement.

The music stops and everyone starts to clap; you quickly finish the pastry and join in, listening to someone announcing the next dance. In your distracted state of trying to peer over the heads of way too many people to see if anything interesting has happened, you lose sight of the man.

You turn around, searching for him; perhaps he hasn't gone far. Perhaps, if you find him, you could talk to him properly. Or perhaps he's gone to dance with his partner. You sigh, but jump when you feel a tap on your shoulder.

"Apologies, I did not intend to scare you, my lady," Your eyes meet with the piercing green ones you'd been searching for, his thin lips curved into a soft smile. He wears a plain, black, satin mask and green robes decorated with gold. His hair is long and midnight black; you can't see his face but you're already swept away at how stunning he is.

"Do not fret, I was merely distracted," You smile. "Oh, and thank you for the recommendation. It really was delicious,"

"It's no problem at all, they just so happen to be my favourite,"

The announcer once more signals the end of the dance and the beginning of a new one, inviting people to the centre of the ballroom.

The man grins, holding out a single hand and bowing slightly. "Would you care to have this dance, my lady?"

Your stomach flips and your heart flutters as you slide your hand hesitantly into his. His hold is gentle as he leads you to the centre of the ballroom, sliding his arm around your waist.

The music begins and you're whisked around the ballroom, your skirt swirling around your ankles and your body pressed flush against his. You seem to lose track of your surroundings as you step in time to the music, falling head over heels into his beautiful green eyes.

His moves are graceful yet precise, his grip firm as he sweeps you to the floor and back up to your feet. Your breath comes in short, quiet, unbelieving gasps, a smile seeming to be permanently stuck to your face.

The dance finishes far too quickly for your liking, the last note of the music playing as you sweep into a final, deep curtsy. Applause erupts around you, bringing you back to reality as you stand and take the man's hand once more. He pulls you in close, whispering in your ear:

"How would you feel about going to the gardens?"

He pulls away as you murmur: "I'd like that,"

He smiles and pulls you from the ballroom, weaving through the crowd and taking you into the moonlit gardens. 

As soon as you come to a stop, a single note of laughter falls from your lips. "That was the best thing I've ever done, thank you,"

"No, thank you, my lady. It truly was wonderful," He replies, his hand still clutching yours.

You smile at each other for a moment, butterfly wings tickling your insides.

"Say, I never caught your name," He acknowledges, bringing your hand to his lips and kissing it softly.

"Well, would that not defeat the point of a masquerade?" You answer, feeling your cheeks beginning to burn from his gesture. "But, if you must know, it's Y/n,"

"Y/n... a pretty name for a pretty woman. I am Loki, it's lovely to meet you,"

"And you also, Loki,"

He reaches up and brushes a hair behind your ear. He cups your cheek and leans in, stopping only a breath away from your face.

"May I?" He murmurs.

"You may,"

At your words, he finally closes the gap, pressing the sweetest of kisses to your lips. Just like the dance, it ends much too soon.

His demeanour seems to change as his eyes land on something behind you. You turn around to see a muscular man with blonde hair beckoning him over.

"I fear I must go," He sighs, seeming to sag. "Though I wish to never leave you,"

You smile, brushing a hand across his face. "It's alright. Go, we shall see each other again,"

Loki takes a breath, looking between you and the man before his face lights up. "Do you know of Stargazing Hill?"

"Of course,"

"May I meet you there tomorrow at sundown?"

Your grin grows wider - if that is even possible. "I'd love that,"

"Me too," He chuckles softly.

"But no masks, alright?"

Loki nods. "I look forward to seeing you fully, my beautiful lady."

[murfpersonalblog]

IWTV Trailer (me losing my freaking marbles - YOLO) Pt1

I'm just going frame by frame thru AMC'S BEAUTIFUL new IWTV trailer. But I had to split this into 2 parts cuz Tumblr won't let me post 30+ pics.

We've already seen Lestat's Theatre portrait on fire (burn, bish!) but the TRANSITION they made here is DISGUSTING--they know what they're doing!

Lou goes from thinking about setting the Theatre on fire (nervously/uncomfortably rubbing his chin, my poor baby), to another scene of him chainsmoking and staring sadly off into the void. I'm assuming it's the 1970s interview, cuz we see Afro!Lou in the same shirt when he effs up BB!Daniel a few minutes later.

AND they said Louis's "stronger, and harder, too," during ANOTHER closeup of Louis chainsmoking. Pyromaniac du Lac LIVES.

Then we get that INTERESTING exchange with Loumand about Oldmaniel:

Armand does NOT like this interview, no ma'am! What are you tryna hide?! 🧐

The fandom legit already MADE THIS JOKE too! XD

The parallels with Loumand enjoying watching movies together (NO CLAUDIA 👀)--and Loustat enjoying opera & movies together.

Loumand as a happy old married couple--I mean it, Rolin: what TF happened between the 1970s interview, the year 2000, and 2022, to make Louis' mental state get SO DANG BAD!?

Armand seems to be implying that 1970s SanFran wasn't where he failed Louis, but 1940s Paris when he burns the Theatre--but I'm seriously wondering if something else went down, cuz LOOK AT MY BABY. BLOOD TEARS. I cannot.

This hollow, fake smile Claudia gives when Loumand walks into the room; wearing makeup & an adult hairstyle tryna look grown--I wonder if this is the same night she joins the Theatre?

Lou & Claudia--he just gives her The Eyebrows, not saying anything (but Armand looks WAY too smug ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)); and we know Armand AND Claudia can EASILY read his mind way better than he can read either of theirs.

Louis calls her "a spark in the dark," right before they cut to the bombs falling all over WWII Europe with flames everywhere--including all over her face--foreshadowing her ashes to ashes, dust to dust. ("Rigged to burn," Louis said in S01E03.)

Did they get hit by bombs, or fall into mine fields?! Jfc. (OR maybe they were sleeping underground, in the earth, and woke up in a battlefield--GOD.) And this must be the same scene where Lou eats the heart--we see Claud throwing limbs around--are they scavenging bombed up corpses?

And the flame in the photographs Louis takes, which she's been tearing down--figuratively in the other teaser, and literally here.

Claudia finna GO OFF! (I HAD to make this one a gif, to see her wrath in MOTION 🤌)

EAT that racist French White, Claudia, PLEASE. Colonizer Capital--Paris SUCKS!

LOUIS DE POINTE DU LAC, ladies and gentlemen. U_U

You're one of a kind, sweetie--that's why the whole Theatre was tripping, cuz Lestat's "coven" in NOLA didn't look ANYTHING like how all other vampire covens worked. Lestat & Louis & Claudia were a FAMILY. They lived like humans--or as close to human as possible. Plus they were painfully weak, with none of the Dark Gifts. They weren't living like monsters--at least not on the surface....

In the other teaser I thought this dirty heifer who attacked Louis was a revenant, but if she's in the Theatre then this must be Alessandra or Eleni (which means a Rhoshamandes name drop!? 👀💀)? Please random dude please be Benedict. 🙏 I need more TVC cameos!

I'm wondering if this was part of a performance when Madeleine & Claudia were part of the Theatre, not during the Trial? OR this is AMC's recreation of the film version with the naked lady--"so we can eat people."

Armand finna GO OFF! But WHERE TF are his FANGS!? That's my ONE major gripe with this show--I'm so sick of seeing these stupid acrylics everywhere but no FANGS.

Then the trailer immediately tells me to STFU, LOL. XD

Lelio Rising. Lelio Falling. (Ooooo--the Tower Scene should be SPICY)

Then they use the "script" line to transition to The Trial, when Armand forced Lestat to be scripted! 😭 DIABOLICAL! And I LOVE this frame--it's giving me Oppenheimer when he was walking through the stands as everyone applauded him for dropping the bomb & he was PTSDing. (I had to make a separate post just for this brainworm.)

So Dan's finished the interview and this is his editor. (OR, even spicier, this dude's from the Talamasca, and Daniel's broken the NDA & fled the penthouse?) But chile, ain't nobody scared of LDPDL. 🙄 Daniel should be well aware by now that Louis snapped in the 1970s, sure, but he's not the REAL threat in that house, Mr. Mediocre Star to a 500 Year Old Vampire. Unless they're talking about LESTAT? 👀💀 WHERE TFC IS HE IN 2022?!

What in CHRIST'S NAME is coming out of his effing NECK? 😱 It was SQUEALING, like a KOCHON.

Louis slinging blood at the Sea of Galilee Armand stole for him, LOLOLOL.

Louis effing Daniel up--"you were disrespectful!" I wonder if BB!Dan crying was when Armand was busy stalking him when he was drunk AF & dying of alcohol poisoning.

I LOVE THIS. Louis is the center of it all--"It's you and me. Me, and you." 😭💔 Said over and over--Louis and Lestat, Claudia, Armand, and Daniel (and even Santiago U_U).