#wrote this bitch in 20 min

[kaisollisto]

i imagine beatrice refuses to wear a cap (especially backwards)

"it's quite frankly unprofessional and tacky." Beatrice grumbles tiredly. Ava waves away her insistence, scoffing, muttering, "who even uses the word tacky." She flattens it on Bea's head careful to tuck the bun underneath the hat. Her hands roam at the back of her neck and Ava blames it on the height difference. She can't tell if she's pinching bea's hair from their positions. Beatrice is sat with her paperwork crooked on the table and Ava hovering above her. "C'mon bea you can take a power nap, i know you're sleepy." Ava nudges her softly, the source of bea's exhaustion weighs on Ava's heart heavily. "Just a tiny one, I'll wake you up in 30 minutes, promise." Beatrice's face twitches, Ava can see her face fluctuating between a range of emotions before she settles on resignation. She relents but not before questioning the validity of the hat. Ava laughs and fixes it so it covers the top of her face, "It's a good disguise, no one will know it's you." She tidies her table up as neat as she can with Beatrice shifting. Beatrice's ears peek out from her head and Ava has to restrain herself from doing something utterly unhinged (like rubbing them softly), "See you in 30 boss."

[vermillioncrown]

notable quotes during this entire process of Suffering

"you need to be a little delusional to have a thesis. at least a bit."

"oo she's starting to believe"

"barring setting your hair on fire and sitting between you and the monitor, i don't think you can be stopped"

"if you could, you'd have a beard at this point. and be balding"

"is it drugs or do you feel Things inside?"

"doesn't have to be coherent. or logical. just needs to Be"

"just write 'let's be frfr, you're skipping this chapter my esteemed committee members' in the middle"

[mydearesthrry]

A Compilation of Y/nrry on Stage - h.s.

a/n: self indulgent, once again. been watching a couple of old 1d concert vids lately and this just came to me like i think i wrote all of this in about 20 mins? enjoyyyyyyy

🎀 warnings/cw: nothing, fluff, cursing?

🐇 pairing: 1dbandmember!yreader x fratboyera!harry

💐 wc: 1.2k

summary: 3 moments during the take me home tour where ynrry shined through on stage.

Y/N could sense mischief from a mile away. From the second the fans screamed to looking over at where they were pointing, she knew she was fucked. Clad in a light pink shirt and crop top that only showed an inch about her torso, she tried to run away from Louis but the stilettos on her feet gave her no opportunity to. 

“Louis! Louis stop, don’t!” Her pleading seemingly wasn’t enough because, within a blink of an eye, she was drenched in cold water. The two of them immediately knew what this meant. 

It meant war. And she was determined to get all of her bandmates on her side to defeat Louis. 

At first, she tried running after him, but when she realized it was no use since he was so fast and she was in heels, she called Harry over and immediately told him to turn around and crouch to help her. Harry, who had seen the entire interaction, was immediately down and got down without question. She hopped up on his back, motioning at Zayn for him to throw her a water bottle, Harry immediately started running toward Harry. 

As he ran, her in-ear monitors made her remember that she was to sing soon, and she raised her mic to her lips, singing softly. “And if we get together, yeah get together, don’t let the pictures leave your phone! Do you guys think I can beat Louis?” She screamed, following her lyrics, giggling at the loud cheers from the crowd. Harry continued running, and Y/N looked down to see that Niall and Liam were running with them, water bottles in their hands as well. 

Louis glanced over his shoulder and saw them running after him, pulling a face and running away faster. Unfortunately, he was too slow, and they all eventually caught up to him. Zayn too, who was right behind him and making sure he didn’t run away. Liam and Niall caught Louis by his arms, holding him still so their best friend could get her revenge. Harry stalked over to them and set her down, Y/N still singing as she had Harry crack open her bottles. Giggles instead of melodies filled the stadium speakers as she poured the water over his head. The rest of the boys handed her their water, and she continued to pour water on Louis. 

“Paybacks a bitch, Tommo.” She grinned, grabbing him by the back of his neck and into a hug, pushing him away when their cue came in to start doing the rowing dance move. They all stood in a staggered line, laughing loudly while they danced. 

Everyone else flared away, but Harry stayed. He bent down, mouth close to her ear as he popped out her in-ear, and very softly, whispered, “Good job on your victory, Princess.”

—

The band sat in their respective spots, the soft guitar for Summer Love filtering through the air. In front of Harry, a little off to the side was Y/N, who had the brightest gleam in her eyes, admiring the crowd. It was during songs like these that she allowed herself to bask in the feeling of fame, one that often consumed and overwhelmed her. She giggled when she waved at a few fans and they started screaming and crying in response to her. She glanced over her shoulder to see if Harry had seen that, and smiled wider when she saw he already had a grin on his face. 

Raising the mic to his lips, he followed Zayn’s lyrics, and since Y/N was already looking over at him, she twisted on her bottom, being careful of her skirt. Her eyes traced all of Harry’s features, them being nearly enhanced due to the bright spotlights on him. Finishing his part of the first verse, his eyes flicked back to her, nose scrunching cutely. She blew a playful kiss back, laughing when his cheeks became overtaken by a pinkish hue. Jumping down from her spot, she walked over to the back of the stage to retrieve her phone, before jogging back to her spot, confusing Harry when she passed it and instead beelined for him. 

Plopping down next to him, she swiped on her phone until she got to the camera app, holding it up to be level with their faces. They pulled a couple of funny faces before she tossed her phone over to Liam and Niall to the right of her, who grabbed it with ease. They started snapping pictures too, Liam turning to face his back to the crowd, taking a selfie with them too. The mic was on her lips, and they motioned her to catch it, but she shook her head no. 

They tossed the phone back to her anyway, but she missed the catch and clenched her eyes shut, only for them to snap open again when she felt two taps on her thighs. Opening her eyes, she saw Harry grinning at her with a shit-eating grin, holding her phone in his hand. 

She rolled her eyes, grabbing it from him and unlocking it again. She pulled up her camera roll app, looking at the pictures of her and Harry. She smiled and set one of the funnier ones as her home screen background. She turned her phone to Harry, and he grinned at her, trying to subtly move his arm behind her back to rub it. Turning to him, she held up a hand to block the crowd from seeing what she was whispering into his ear. 

The crowd screamed when they saw this, but they would never know that the words she whispered into his ear were ‘I love you’.

—

 As Niall talked to the crowd, Y/N and Harry pulled their in-ears out of their ears to talk to each other, something that was extremely common at their concerts. 

“What d’you wanna order from the hotel when we get back? ‘M starving and I miss you. I feel like I’ve not seen you all day.” Harry said— shouted, knowing she could barely hear over the volume of the crowd. She turned around, shrugging her shoulders. Harry rolled his eyes, and she tiptoed, the heels on her feet not being enough to be able to reach his ears. 

“I‘ve been craving pizza since this morning, maybe that if they have it. We can cuddle when we get back to the hotel, but you have to shower, you’re all sweaty. As for the pizza,” She questioned in his ear. “I’m not sure what toppings yet, but maybe we can agree on some?” 

He nodded, giving a thumbs up, “Wanna join me in the shower?” She looked at him with an annoyed expression, but he had a boyish grin on his face.”‘M putting olives on the pizza.” 

“Oh, absolutely not, are you serious? Harry, that’s disgusting.” She pulled a face of disgust, putting her hand on his face to push him away. He had the biggest look of offense on his face, and she giggled. He didn’t get far from her push, only about 1 foot away. She laughed when she heard him scream ‘Say sorry!’, and she shook her head no. 

“You know I hate olives! I’m picking all of them off and giving them to you.” She grinned back, and he rolled his eyes again, but with the look he gave her, it was obvious that he would do anything for her.

[spookyspecterino]

Back to You Again

Tangerine x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Injury, mention of blood, mention of death/fear of death, arguing/bickering, swearing. Serious idiots in love who have a little trouble expressing their feelings and choose the wrong time to do it.

You've been gone a little while. A few months to be specific. Why? Tangerine can only guess, but he's not happy about it.

Requested by @nocturnest. I'm so sorry this took so long. I started it thinking it was going to be short and then 7K words flew out. 😬Anyway, thanks for your request. It's been a long time since I wrote anything seriously and this was really good for me. Hope you enjoy!

“Laser cutter. Three auto-rifles. Two handguns. Three boxes of ammo each.”

Check.

The binoculars are heavy duty, and the metal texture grates your fingers as you pull them up to peer through the lenses into the next building over. A high-rise that had at least 30 floors. All windowed at least, which made this a little easier on you.

“In through the fifth-floor service area. Through the employee hallway to the service elevator.”

A map of the building laid next to you on the gravel roof. It hadn’t been easy to get your hands on it, but it was worth it for a building as secure as this. No security measure had been overlooked by this man and as paranoid as he seemed it went a long way to his credibility.

“In and out through the service elevator. 20 mins tops. Oh, the jammer.”

A handheld device that you’d paid top dollar for. Yes, it has duct tape holding pieces of it together, and the screen was a repurposed old Gameboy front, but it is the best your back-channel dealer could provide.

How did anyone do anything without a handler these days?

The jammer would save you the trouble (if things turned sideways) of dealing with reinforcements. It flickers to life by flipping a switch smoldered to its side. The thing really does look like a piece of garbage.

Several frequencies and networks flashed across the screen, all of them belonging to the building you were surveying. Scrolling through, only a few needed to be shut down, too many and it would raise alarms.

Wifi was the last to be turned off and then you would really need to book it inside.

Everything planned out to a T. Entrance and exits mapped. Back-up plans (and back-up plans to those back-up plans) in place. Extra weapons and ammo in case you had to go out guns blazing. This should be no problem.

“Office-penthouse on the top floor. Computer terminal on the desk, west side.”

Get to the computer, get the files, destroy everything. If you happened to kill the son of a bitch, well, that was a bonus.

You sigh and rub your face, trying to work out the stress lines that seemed to make a permanent home between your brows. “Now I just need to stop talking to myself.”

It was an unfortunate habit you’d picked up in the last few months of working alone. Usually, you had… no. This was no time to think of them, or of him. You have to focus. After this is done, you can go back and apologize, even grovel if you have to.

But now is the time for focus.

In the middle of repeating this mantra, one you’ve been repeating for the last month, you happen to look up at the street. Not for any real reason, nothing had drawn your attention. Nothing was amiss in your perfect plan.

Except two very familiar faces walking down the sidewalk.

Lemon and Tangerine.

Clad in their typical attire. Snazzy suits, dress shoes, and ties.

Your stomach does several things. First it flips at the sight of Tangerine as he saunters with his hands in his pockets, then it sinks and twists into painful knots.

“No, no, no!”

They can’t be here! Anywhere but here!

The two walked casually down the sidewalk, as if they were taking a nice midday stroll. No rifles, no car, nothing. Either they were ballsy as hell…or wildly misinformed about this building and the man inside.

Something in you hoped, prayed, they would pass the building. That they were going somewhere else.

They took a sharp turn to cross the street—toward the building entrance—and your breath turned ragged, your blood chilled. At the same time, your mind was churning with practicality, cold and calculated ideas. Some nasty part of you that had gotten you this far in such a dangerous career, that had nestled in you a long time ago and only now resurfaced in the months of being alone.

You could just walk away; they have their job, and they’re professionals. They can handle themselves.

You could go in after and clean up without ever being seen. Easy. The plan you made could still work, Tangerine and Lemon would be a perfect distraction.

But you were already moving. Lega working on their own and putting you into motion. Fingers tapping off the Wi-Fi signal on the jammer while you slung your duffle bag over your shoulder.

This was not the plan, you argued with yourself as you flew down the back stairs. You’ll get yourself killed being this reckless and impulsive. What happened to in and out in 20 mins?

With every point you made the other side of your mind made a counterpoint.

They’re underprepared. They’re misinformed. They don’t have the firepower to walk in the front door, hell, they don’t have enough bullets to make it to the second floor.

“God damn it!” You yelled, taking the stairs down two at a time. Your voice echoed off the walls in the cramped stairwell. The rifles in your duffle bag clattered and banged together.

They’d be killed. Tangerine and Lemon would be killed. You couldn’t let that happen.

. . .

“I say we take a hostage and negotiate our way up.”

“Yeah, sure, Lemon.”

“This guy’s what, a tech billionaire, or something?”

“Probably.”

“Ok, so he’s a nerd. Easy job.”

“Uh-huh.”

Lemon shoots his brother a less than happy look. Tangerine is staring off into space with a slight frown, hands shoved deep in his pockets as he hunches over a little. Which wasn’t new, he’d been doing that a lot lately. A reflection of his dour mood.

Lemon rolls his eyes. “Oh, mate. Come on. We’re on a job.”

Tangerine shrugs, frowning harder. “I’m fuckin’ aware of that, Lemon.”

“Then stop with your sulking! What have I told you?”

“No—” Tangerine waves a hand, “—you don’t need to say it again—”

“Just send her a letter or something. She’d love it.”

Tangerine groans, he’s starting to get a headache now as they near the target building. “As I’ve said before, I attached letters on the flowers I sent.”

Lemon opens his mouth, but Tangerine cuts him off. “And I sent more than one bouquet. For fuck’s sake, her house probably looks like a tropical rainforest by now.”

“What about—”

“I’ve sent her presents. Jewelry. Perfume. A new phone in case hers was broken. Fuckin’ hell I even had her porch repainted.”

“And she didn’t say anything?”

“Nothing.”

Lemon hesitates. “Did you say you’re sorry?”

Now Tangerine was about to lose it. His eye twitched, not that his brother could see it. “Sorry for what? She’s the one that up and disappeared without a word.”

“I still think you should say it. Just to cover your bases.”

“I’m not apologizing. We were all perfect and you know that. She was happy as a clam and if something was wrong, she would have told me.”

“Then why’d she—”

“You’re really getting on my fucking nerves, Lemon.”

They were across the street from the main entrance now. Two glass doors with golden handles reflected the brothers. In sync they both took a sharp turn toward them. Through the glass they didn’t see anyone else in the lobby and there was a long, chest high counter with a clerk along the far back wall.

Neither of them blinked at how empty the lobby was. Their client had said this target was some kind of informant, but that was about it. They’d paid half up front and sent them on their merry way.

Tangerine yanked open the glass door, holding it for Lemon. He was beyond pissed and just wanted this to be over with. Despite his complaints he was still mulling over what his brother said. Should he apologize, even though he had done nothing wrong? He didn’t think he’d done anything wrong, and he had thought back on all the times you’d been with them, working a job or not.

He’d been happy, he thought you were happy too.

The white floor tiles of the lobby were so shiny they could check their reflections in them. The whole place was upstanding and flaunted wealth. On both sides of the spacious lobby were two silver elevators. The clerk, a lady in her mid-thirties, looked up at them as they walked in. She picked up a phone and turned away as she spoke.

It took them 10 seconds to reach the desk, and, in that time, Lemon had pulled out his gun.

He pointed it at her now. “Hang up the phone.”

She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. Not the usual response someone has when a gun is pointed at them, but she slowly hangs up.

“Come out from behind the desk, slowly.”

There’s a moment when she does nothing. Then, “No.”

Tangerine blinks, then pulls out his own gun. “Did you really just say no? Listen lady—”

She leans forward over the desk, leering. “Turn around and get the fuck out.”

Lemon shoots into the wall slightly to her left. She doesn’t even flinch at the sound. “I will fucking shoot you. Get out. From behind. The desk.”

She leans back. “Cute gun.”

Tangerine starts to get a sinking feeling. He turns to Lemon, about to say they should take a walk (maybe find a back entrance to this place instead) when the woman pulls out .22 Uzi from somewhere in the desk. They only catch a glimpse of the muzzle before they start shooting wildly and ducking.

Lemon takes a shot to the chest with a grunt. Tangerine hears the bullets whizzing past him and shattering glass.

The desk clerk turns disappearing behind an employee door seamlessly built into the wall.

They crouch down next to the desk. Tangerine’s head pounds, as it usually does when a job gets out of control.

“You alright?” He reloads his gun, watching his brother carefully.

Lemon checks himself over, patting his chest and stomach. “Yeah, all good, the vest caught it. This is fucked what do we do—”

He doesn’t get a chance to finish as both elevators open and squads of heavily armored men pour out. They all have automatic rifles and black Kevlar vests.

“Behind the desk!” Tangerine shouts, pulling Lemon up.

They jump over just as the bullets start flying. Glass shatters, wood splinters, tiles crack. It’s utter chaos and Tangerine and Lemon can only sit behind cover.

“I think we might be fucked!” Lemon shouts, checking his gun.

Tangerine grits his teeth, mind racing. “The client didn’t mention this level of security! I’m going to wring their fucking neck!”

“We’re outmatched!”

“No question, Lemon! Thanks for pointing that out!” Tangerine can feel his brother’s rising anxiety as he shifts his weight from foot to foot.

 “What do we do?!”

“We hope to God this is all of them and try our best to make it out of here!”

“You’re saying—”

Tangerine fires blindly from behind the desk. “Yes, we bail on this job and break our client’s fucking legs!”

The onslaught never seems to end. These assholes are top security and they’re trained well. Their shots chip away at the desk piece by piece, Tangerine and Lemon can feel the bullets violently embed themselves in the wood against their backs.

Tangerine glances at the employee door, there’s no handle and no way to pry it open. He figures there’s a remote control that opens it somewhere from behind. He tries to remain calm, think of a way out that isn’t behind at least 10 guys with rifles.

What would you do in this situation? His heart feels like it’s been pierced with a lance as he thinks of you. Obviously, you would never be caught in a situation like this. You were careful, practical, methodical in the way you planned out jobs.

He wished you were here with him.

Instinctually, his hand reaches into his pocket, grabbing his phone. Lemon watches him with something close to sympathy on his face.

Your number is on speed dial. Tangerine presses a button and holds it up to his ear.

It goes straight to voicemail.

The automated answering machine has become very familiar to him these last few months. Were you checking his voicemails? He’d left you enough to fill up your mailbox, he was sure of it.

“Please leave a message after the tone.”

He hopes you can hear him over the sound of gunshots.

“Yeah, look. Lemon and I, we’re in a bit of a pickle. I was really hoping you would answer this time ‘cause we need help. Since you didn’t, I just wanted to say that you’re a real prick for leaving us the way you did. And you haven’t said a single thank you or anything for all the gifts I’ve sent. Poor Lemon has been wondering where you went off to.” He pauses. This wasn’t the way he wanted to start this message, but every other attempt at getting your attention has failed.

“You know how I feel, I’ve made that pretty clear. But right now, I’m just pissed. Nothing has worked, so I’m going to break into your house and wait for you to come home.”

Lemon gives him a startled look, shakes his head from side to side.

Tangerine frowns. “Don’t take that the wrong—Alright, I won’t break into your house, but I will wait on your doorstep. Every day, I’ll be there until I see you.”

Lemon is still frowning, but Tangerine ignores him.

“This is all because…Well, I…” He struggles, throat turning dry and closing around the words he wants to say. Instead of continuing, he hangs up.

Sitting back against the desk he exhales. The gunfire has stopped to an occasional patter here and there.

Lemon runs a hand through his hair. “Bruv, what the fuck was that?”

“A last-ditch effort at getting some backup.”

They fell into silence; the lobby was eerily quiet. They knew the security team was just waiting for them to come out from behind the desk. The air crackled with energy.

Lemon checked his pockets. “I’ve got two clips left, you?”

“One and a half.”

The look they share conveys their doubts, their dread. An unspoken conversation passes between them.

Tangerine puts it in the back of his mind. “I’ll run out first, then you go a few seconds later.”

“No way, we go at the same time.”

He shakes his head but arguing only puts off the inevitable.

“Go to the opposite side of the desk.”

They split, crouching behind opposite corners. There was no way either of them would be able to make it two steps without taking 10 rounds to the chest. The image of you stays in Tangerine’s mind. He just wished he could see you again. Whatever comes next, afterlife or not, he hoped you—or some form of you—would be in it.

Tangerine gives Lemon one last look, finds that his brother is watching him, and gives him a somber nod. He holds his gun up, takes a deep breath, gets ready to run…

He’s out from behind the desk, gritting his teeth and firing in a flash.

He hits one, another to his left falls from Lemon’s bullets. His legs are shaky, he can feel them trembling.

Rifles take aim.

Tangerine opens his mouth to urge Lemon on.

And a grenade goes off.

The loud bang startles him, his ears ring and a second later he’s shrouded in white, smokey fog. Tangerine stops, confused, looking around to try and find Lemon. But a strong hand yanks him and drags him back. He stumbles, scattering empty bullet shells along the ground, and falls onto the tile.

He’s back behind the desk. Lemon falls next to him.

A pair of legs stands between the brothers. Next to them lies a green duffle bag. Empty rifle shells fall to the ground. Tangerine didn’t even realize guns were firing. He followed the legs up in one long sweep of his eyes.

. . .

A million and one things were going through your mind as you fired an automatic rifle at the security team in the lobby. The biggest thing was holding back every fiber of your damn being from screaming at Tangerine and Lemon for being so foolish.

If you had been a breath later, a second too late, these idiots would be laying in a pile of their own blood on the floor. That thought definitely won’t haunt you for a few months.

The other thing you were concentrating on was ignoring the way Tangerine was staring at you right now. He’s not hurt—you kept repeating, over and over again. He’s ok.

The security team was scattering for cover, but finding little, making your job easy as the last of the smoke cleared. They hadn’t been expecting someone to come in from behind and you’d shot a few in the back before throwing the smoke grenade. Only a few were left now.

They seemed to get over their surprise and began firing back, opening the elevators, and using the inside cabins for cover. Keeping the doors open would stop them from being sent back up for more goons to come through. That was good.

You duck down behind the desk. They were still staring at you.

“Yes! Hello!” You stubbornly gritted out while staring into the wood.

Tangerine’s mouth opened and closed many times, but no words came out. That didn’t mean Lemon wasn’t able to say anything.

“Did you get his message?” He was grinning like some kind of fool.

“Message? Which one?”

Was he talking about the hundreds of messages—texts, voicemails, and letters—Tangerine had been sending on a weekly basis? Yes, you’d gotten them. Read every single one. It had been hard enough sleeping normally, after all that you hadn’t been able to sleep at all. The guilt was overwhelming.

Lemon’s eyes dart to his brother. You did the same and regretted it immediately.

Tangerine’s eyes were practically bulging from his head. His mustache twitched.

Oh, he’s pissed.

You quickly look away and clear your throat. “Are you on a job?”

“Yeah, a shit one. We were just trying to bail.”

“Can’t blame you. What happened, bad intel?”

Tangerine’s voice resembled a growl, it grated against your ear, but it wasn’t entirely unwelcome. “Understatement of the century, love.”

Love. Love. Love.

Lemon wipes his forehead. “What’re you doing here?”

“I have my own problems with your target.” You turn to Lemon but feel Tangerine’s eyes burning a hole in your back. “I was about to sneak in when I saw you two walking down the street.” You check your gun, then rummage through the duffle bag for another clip.

“A massive coincidence then?” Lemon was holding back a smile, eyes darting to Tangerine occasionally. It was as if they weren’t just about to die only five minutes ago.

“If you two still want to bail, that’s fine with me. I’ll give you a window after taking the rest out. I’m going to push on.”

Tangerine spins you around by the shoulder to face him. “Are you fucking mental?”

You’re very close together. The determination it takes not to just lean in and…

Speaking slow, you’re focusing your words and hoping it gets through to him. “Your target has info on me that could get people hurt and ruin my reputation. I need to wipe his computer.”

For all his credit, Tangerine takes you seriously in that moment, even as he looks like he might commit murder. He looks to Lemon—they do that ‘sibling conversation’ without words that they’re so good at.

“We’ll stick around to help.”

“You sure?”

Something in him ignites. There’s a fire behind his eyes. “Fuck yes, we’re sure.”

He’s giving mixed signals now. Is he angry? Probably. But apparently not angry enough to leave you on a job alone.

“Alright…” You say, slowly backing away.

You search through the duffle bag, cold objects graze your fingers, you can identify them each by touch. The laser cutter has a rubber handle. “Lemon—" You toss it to him. “—Cut a hole in the employee door. Tangerine—” You grab another rifle, placing it into his hands. “—Help me take out the last of the guys.”

He takes the rifle and for a moment your hands touch. You expect him to flinch away, or recoil, but he lingers there for a moment. His golden rings gleam—of course he wore them, he never leaves them behind—and catch your eyes until he takes the gun from you.

Fucking confusing.

It had been months, but the three of you worked together like no time had passed at all. Tangerine falling in sync with you, watching your back. Working in tandem, the few remaining riflemen dropped like flies.

“Doors open!” Lemon shouted tapping you and Tangerine’s shoulder.

The three of you waste no time dashing into the small service hallway. Tangerine grabbed the duffle bag and slung it over his shoulder. You were just about to pick it up, but he gave you a look.

There wasn’t as much polish to this part of the building, the lighting was dimmer, and it lacked the white tiles, replaced by a steely gray metal flooring instead. The hallway was long and narrow, its walls matched the floor in color.

“This should lead to an employee elevator. That will take us to the top office.” You panted, oddly exhilarated.

Lemon was looking down the hallway as he crouched. “Watch out for the desk clerk, she went this way.”

“Still can’t believe you both just walked in the front door…”

“We don’t all have your sense of planning, darling.” Tangerine huffed, hiking the bag higher on his shoulder.

“Did you have any sense of planning?”

“Lemon had a plan.”

You turn halfway back to face him. “You—Tangerine!”

He fixes you with an odd look. “What?”

“Lemon doesn’t even read the briefs! And you let him make the plan?” You shoot an apologetic look to Lemon. “No offense, you’re really great in every other area.”

He gives you a half smile. “I appreciate that.”

Tangerine grinds his teeth. “In my defense, the intel in the brief was already bad.” He steps closer, into your personal space. “And you always come up with the plans.”

You don’t shy away from him, in fact, you inch closer. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to make them, but you should know better—”

Lemon sighs, long and loud. “Can you two please focus? We’re in the middle of a dangerous situation here.”

It took a moment for you and Tangerine to resume, the closeness was intimate. Electricity crackles in the air between you.

You both say ‘Fine’ at the same time, like stubborn teenagers. The tension hadn’t settled one bit.

If Tangerine needed to be ignored for the remainder of this mission, then ok. That’s fine. No problem. That doesn’t bother you one bit. Nope.

The three of you empty the duffle bag of its contents, splitting the ammo and giving Lemon the pump action shotgun. That shotgun was your Hail Mary in case shit hit the fan—which, by your definition, it had.

You three were your own personal attack squad now, armed to the teeth.

The employee lift was at the end of the twisting hallway, metallic doors shining like a beacon. The panel to call it only had the arrow pointing up, a one-way lift. You’d poured over the maps late into the night leading up to your personal mission, often with a glass of wine, and it had struck you as odd that it only offered a one way up.

You jab at the button, and the little golden light is stark against the greys around it. Tangerine stands just behind you; you can hear his breath over your shoulder.

“Why’s it only one way?” he asks, hushed and tense.

“I asked the same question.” You responded turning a little to look at him. “I thought it might be security measures.”

“Doesn’t really make sense though, does it? It lets people like us up.” Tangerine zeroes in on your frown. “What is it?”

“There might be internal controls from the top office. This guy doesn’t fuck around with security.”

“Who is this guy anyway?” Lemon sniffs, casting a look back down the hallway.

“An asshole that likes snooping into people’s personal business.”

The brothers trade looks.

“He also works in satellite tech, undercover ops, information gathering.”

There’s a gentle bump into your shoulder. “He’s been snooping into your business, has he?”

How long is this elevator going to take?

“He has.”

“Did he try to blackmail you?”

“Yes.”

“What did he find?”

The elevator dings and the sleek metal doors slide open. The inside is full of ominous red and gold hues. The luxuriousness of it gives you the impression that the boss of the building takes it regularly.

Instead of answering, you step inside and forcefully hit the button for the top floor. Tangerine watches you carefully, studying you. Somehow, he looks like a kicked puppy, yet holding the rifle he takes on a much more sinister tone. He still looks dashing as hell in his suit though. You can see the little gold chain of his necklace around his broad neck.

Focus, focus, focus!

His mustache twitches a bit as he catches you staring. And to top that off, he stands in front of you, very closely in front. Either trying to shield you or irritate you. Possibly both.

He’s wearing the cologne you got him as a present almost a year ago.

“If there’s in house security for this lift, we should be prepared.” You shift a little to see Lemon over Tangerine’s shoulder.

“What do you suggest?”

“They know we’re coming, so we have to be fast. Their access to elevators has been blocked. All remaining security teams will need to take the stairs. This elevator opens to another employee hallway that we’ll have to exit in order to reach the office. That’s assuming—”

The elevator stutters, something above you screeches in the elevator shaft, and the panel lights flicker. All three of you stumble as it comes to an abrupt stop and the dim emergency lights switch on. They coat the interior in a faint red light, turning it into a nightmare scenario.

 You groan. “That’s assuming they don’t just turn the elevator off. Fuck.”

Lemon places the shotgun on the floor and motions to Tangerine. Together they pry the paneling off to reveal the switchboard underneath. Lemon fusses with the wiring, using a knife to cut through some and connect it to others.

Sparks fly, flashing in the dim light. Your anxiety ramps. Trapped in an elevator was not on your list of things you wanted to deal with today.

While Lemon fussed with wires, Tangerine turned back to you. “Relax.”

“Excuse me?”

“Try to stay calm, we’ll be out in a second or two.”

Your blood boiled hot. “Don’t tell me to be calm.”

Tangerine smiles at you. “I know you hate elevators.”

“They’re fine, I just particularly hate being trapped in them.”

“Just relax, I’ve got you.”

“That doesn’t help at all!”

More sparks and flickering lights and the elevator doors open an inch. Tangerine has the audacity to smirk in that moment and he touches your chin briefly. His eyes gleam in the dim light.

If you all lived, you were going to kill him.

The twins work wordlessly to pry the elevator doors open. It takes a tremendous effort and both of them are sweaty and breathing hard at the end, but there’s enough space for a person to climb through. Except, you’re going to have to jump down into the office below. Half the elevator is blocked.

“Well, good news is…” Lemon says, scratching his head, “we can get out. And if the elevator can only fall downward.”

“The elevator only goes up, Lemon.” You choke out.

“Oh. Right…well, best get a move on then.”

“I’ll go first.” Tangerine volunteers.

On instinct you reach for him. He sees the slight movement before you hold yourself back.

As if it was easy, he’s crouching down, squeezing through the doors, and jumping into the office below. All with his gun in his hand. Meanwhile, your heart is doing summersaults in your throat.

He holds his hands up, beckoning you. “Come on. You’ve done harder things than this.”

You force yourself to move, crouching down and inching toward the opening. You toss him your rifle. “Like when?”

“Like when you jumped between rooftops in Venezuela.”

“I wasn’t thinking when I did that! And in hindsight, it was fucking stupid of me.”

He laughs. “I’ve got you. Come on.”

You squeeze through the doors, imagining the elevator crashing down, the doors snapping shut, something—anything drastic, and then throw yourself at Tangerine. He catches you with practiced ease and holds you close to him.

He says something you don’t catch over the sound of your trembling breaths. There’s a pat on your shoulder, Lemon is out.

Regaining yourself, you move away from Tangerine and straighten your clothes. His brow furrows, mustache tilts down. Maybe it was your imagination, but did his fingers grip your clothes? A silent plea for you to stay?

You do your best to ignore it. “Let’s go. Did anyone catch what floor we stopped on?”

“37th.” Lemon says, handing over your gun.

“Two floors short.”

“You think they’re waiting for us?”

“I’d bet money on it. Be careful, both of you. I don’t want to see any heroics.”

Tangerine’s eyes follow you as you move to the front and lead them through the hallway at a jogging pace. The single door at the end is much like the one you entered on the first-floor lobby. There’s a control panel for it to the side. As you run up to it, you press your ear to the other side.

No noise.

Your hand hovers over the button. With one last look behind you at the twins you give them a nod, then press it. The door clicks open a fraction, and everything goes to shit.

They were waiting for you on the other side of the door and the gunfire started up immediately. Your vision was blocked immediately, and you were pushed and tugged out by a strong hand—the world was a blur of loud shots, ringing ears, and scrambling. Grey cubicles shoulder-height tall were set up along the floor, which made spotting the enemy incredibly hard. All the fighting was done in the tight walkways between the office spaces.

Your shirt had blood on it, but you had no bullet wounds. Tangerine sat beside you, holding an arm. He’d been shot in his right arm.

“I said no heroics!” You practically shrieked.

Lemon was firing between cubicles, and from the sound of it, he was holding his own.

“What was I supposed to do, love?” Tangerine pants through the pain.

“You’re supposed to let me handle it!” You’re shouting as you pull out some gauze. The bullet went straight through his upper arm. He’d need stitches but, overall, he would be ok. You poke and prod gently as he hisses with each touch.

His teeth are gritted as he grunts out, “You wanted to get shot?”

“I’d take a bullet for you, happily. You know that.”

“I feel the same way, which is what I was doing.”

“I still don’t want you to!”

“I don’t want you to, either!”

Something bounces off your back. It’s a stapler. Both you and Tangerine stare at it for a moment, confused.

“Oi! You two! Get over yourselves and actually talk about your feelings for once!”

You whip around to stare daggers at Lemon. “Did you just throw a stapler at me?!”

He’s taking cover behind a grey cubicle not too far away. “Yeah, I did! I’m sick of you two avoiding an actual conversation. Talk—it—out!”

Tangerine sits up, pushing against your hands on his chest in your weak attempt to keep him down. “You’ve lost your mind, mate!”

“Thomas would say to express your feelings, that bottling them up is bad for you! So, express them!”

“Is it really necessary—” You pick up your rifle and fire blindly down the walkway, “—to do this now? We’re a little busy!”

“It’s now or never, I know you two! Once all this stops, you’ll avoid it!”

Tangerine looks perplexed, like he’s really considering it, and you try not to look at him again. “Fuck this job!” You shout, before rolling into the walkway and opening fire.

The two or three men that hadn’t been behind cover are caught by surprise and the bullets chew through the walls of the cubicles. A deadly silence permeates the office floor, only the ringing in your ears remains.

Another shot rings out and you feel like your shoulder’s been ripped from the socket.

You’re thrown back onto the ground. It must have been a heavy round, your left arm is completely numb, do you even have an arm left?

There’s shouting and more gunshots, the grey office walls and floor merge into one as the room spins. You’re getting pulled off the ground, someone is prodding your arm. Absentmindedly, you swat at whoever is doing it.

“Listen, hey, open your eyes!”

Tangerine…

You obey. He’s inches in front of your face, brows furrowed, a vein in his forehead sticks out.

“I’m fine.” You cough out. “Just fell down, is all.”

“You’ve been shot!”

“Oh.”

He struggles, he looks like he has more to say, but stays silent. You swat at Lemon who’s wrapping your arm—or shoulder, more accurately. “I’m fine, let’s keep going.”

“You’re not fine.” Lemon grunts, pushing your hand away. “It was a .308 round. You’ll be lucky if you have any bones left in your shoulder.”

“Why’d you do that?!” Tangerine is shouting, running his hand through his hair. You both match now, he’s bandaged up on his left arm too.

“Do what?” You ask through gritted teeth as Lemon tightens the bandage.

“Run out like an absolute lunatic?”

“I told you I’d take a bullet for you.”

His eyes bug out. “You threw yourself into the line of fire!”

“All in a day’s work. Now, can we get back to it?” You don’t wait for a response, instead pushing yourself to your feet. Your left arm hangs to the side, limp and numb. A dull throb pulses through your side.

Tangerine watches you. “We need to have a serious discussion when this is over, love.”

You huff out a breath, swaying slightly. “Noted.”

The three of you push on in tense silence. Tangerine makes sure you’re behind him while the rest of the floors leading to the main penthouse office are cleared. He’s acting so stubborn, blocking you at every turn, holding you back with a gentle, yet unyielding hand. The vein in his forehead never goes away.

Finally, the double doors leading to the office are before you. Platinum gold, of course, with carved handles. This guy’s style was beginning to get obnoxious.

Lemon kicks open the doors with as much anger and prejudice as you feel (yet can’t muster at the moment). Instead of what you were expecting, the target stands alone behind his desk. He smirks, giving off a Wall Street investor impression with his pressed suit and perfectly cut hair.

He spreads his arms wide. “I really should have known you three would be together for this.”

“Shut up, wanker.” Tangerine shouts, pointing his gun.

The target opens his mouth to say more, but Tangerine doesn��t let him. He empties the clip into the man’s chest.

The target dies with a startled look on his face, falling back over his desk.

You move past Tangerine, fighting his hands that grip at your clothing. “Thank God for that.”

The computer is easily hacked, the files you’re after are on the desktop. Maybe the dead man was looking to bargain—or gloat. You glance at his dead, glazed over eyes.

Bastard.

Tangerine paces, looking at you often. His job is done, the confirmation is sent to the client through Lemon’s phone.

Your files are downloaded onto an encrypted flash drive, and you rip the wiring out of the computer’s back, smashing the server tower. Mission accomplished.

“I guess now that you have what you need, you’ll disappear again.” Tangerine is glaring at you, chewing his lip. His bandage is bloody.

The flood gates open.

“I needed these files!” You shout, worsening the headache you already have.

Tangerine shouts back, taking a step closer. “I would have understood if you had just told me!”

“I couldn’t have told you!”

“Why not?”

“Because—well—I didn’t—It doesn’t matter now!”

“So, you disappear for months, without a word, for something you won’t even tell me about?!”

“I didn’t want to involve you! I wanted to get this done myself!”

“I’m involved now!”

“It was a shitty coincidence you showed up here today, and I’m sorry you got hurt because of this job!”

“I’m not concerned about me!”

“Well, you should be! I care about your safety!”

“And I care about yours!”

In the corner, Lemon shakes his head.

You hold your arm, trying to work some feeling back into it. It throbs and you wish you hadn’t. “I would have come back after this was done.”

“Oh, really?” Tangerine laughs dryly. “How was I to know?”

You groan, throat turning dry. “You’re so impatient! I just needed a little time!”

“You know how often I tried to reach you—?”

“Yes! I heard every message, got every bouquet of flowers—and thank you for my porch, that was really nice.”

Tangerine flounders a little, he still wants to argue, but some of the steam has been let out. “A thank you would have been nice.”

“I’m thanking you now!”

“A whole good that did when I thought you were done with me—” He shoots a look at his brother, “—and Lemon!”

“I’ll say I’m sorry a thousand more times, Tangerine! Is that what you want?”

He turns his back to you, grumbling something.

“I don’t understand why it was such a big deal to you, we’re contractors! We kill people for a living, and you’re freaking out—”

He spins back around. “It’s a big deal because I thought you were hurt.” He stalks closer, you notice his hair has come undone from the neat gel, curls flair out around his neck. “I thought something happened to you!” He’s within arm’s distance now. “It’s a big deal because I love you!”

And then he stops. His eyes go wide, as if he’s just spilled a secret.

Fuck, he did just spill a secret. Maybe you had known, but he’s never said anything. It was always just little guesses here and there, a thought—a feeling—and inclination. Late nights, especially recently, that you spent thinking about it, wondering.

Your mouth falls open in the silence. “I—I…love…” but damned if your mouth just wasn’t getting it out.

Arguing and bickering was so much easier.

But he knows, he can see it in the way your eyes soften, in the way you swallow with a dry throat. In the way your hand reaches to him, and your body leans forward.

“You know…” Lemon says, looking up from his phone, “Most people would kiss at this point. Just a suggestion.”

A quip, a very fitting one, comes to mind and you’re about to tell Lemon just how you’re not normal people, when Tangerine pulls you to him. Your chest presses to his and his lips are on yours in an instant.

Hungry, needy. It’s desperate, an urgent need be close, to be touching. Burning with desire and hot with passion. You give into it.

His mustache scratches at your lips and you pull him into you, threading your fingers through his curly hair, mussing it up even more. His hands grip at your back, pull at your clothes.

Closer. You need to be closer.

Fuck air, the feeling of his lips moving against yours is the only thing you’ll ever need again.

Your arm throbs and the dull pulse shoots up to your chest. You sigh, half in pain and half in pleasure. Unfortunately, Tangerine pulls back. There’s blood on his lips and he looks concerned.

“Wait…” You mumble, trying to pull him back to you. He’s your lifeline now.

“You need a doctor, love.”

“Just a little longer.”

Tangerine chuckles, wrapping an arm around your back. “After you’re patched up. I promise.”

…Bonus…

“You’re going to ‘break into my house and wait for me to come home’?”

Tangerine groans, throwing his head back as you walk into the small office. Private clinics with ‘respectable’ doctors. Gotta love ‘em.

“Love, I didn’t mean it, I was in a life-or-death situation—I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking—”

You give a good-natured laugh, sitting next to him. You’d been patched up first, Tangerine was just waiting for some blood work to come back.

Tangling your fingers in his you give his hand a gentle squeeze. “I’m just teasing, Tan. I know.”

“Ok.” He sighs, giving your hand a squeeze back. “Good.”

You ruffle through your pockets to pull out your phone, your arm stings, but the pain medication the doc gave you does wonders. “I thought about it, I think you deserve to know why I was after your target.”

He looks at you with new interest now.

You tilt your screen to show him.

It had pictures of you and Tangerine. Pictures of you sitting together at lunch, laughing. Pictures of you walking down the street together, arm in arm. Pictures of you looking like a couple.

“Oh,” he breathes out, “I see.”

“I was worried you’d be put in danger if these…well, if they got into the wrong hands.”

“Didn’t want our clients to think we were softies either, huh?”

“That too.”

He presses his face into your hair. He hasn’t expressed his feelings for you again, but you’re starting to realize he always had—just through actions instead. A gentle hand on the small of your back. Wrapping an arm around your waist. Leaning down to speak softly into your ear.

These were just as much of an expression as words.

“Will we have to do this every time?” he asks, voice muffled slightly.

“Every time what?”

“It’s only a matter of time before more pictures of us make it into someone’s hands.”

“Oh. That’s a good point.”

He pulls you a little closer. “I’ll be dammed if I have to stop taking you out over that.”

“Then I guess we’ll just have to kill whoever tries something like that again.”

“We’ll do it together next time, yeah?”

“Absolutely.”

[domreader-headcannon-scenarios]

So i started playing the whb game bc i read that really hot fic u wrote where satan’s horns were leaking.

Here begging for a crumb of anything “demon horns as an erogenous zone” related

I love the idea of ‘horn org*sms’ (or halo)

-

The horn ‘cum’ I don’t think is fertile so it cant be used for breeding it’s kinda just like a natural lubricant.

I honestly think of the horns as though being hard, and basically unmovable by a human, they have a LOT of nerves under them, which also means in injury there bleeds a lot and is extremely painful.

Their horns very in size and appearance and ‘fancier’ horns that are think or short are more sensitive as there’s less space to protect the nerves.

It’s confirmed all demons horns heal every ‘decade’ so it’s likely they are weaker and more sensitive while healing, they prolly end up with a think layer of membrane protecting the horn until it’s fully developed, they sheds the extra membrane when it’s ready. (Think of it like deer/elk horns developing that gross skin over their horns and rubbing against trees to get it off.) it’s definitely uncomfortable and at least a little itchy.

I so funny enough I was using the ‘horn pulling’ thing on Leviathan and Beelzebub and they basically ‘ejaculate’ through their horns before they are ‘done’ and lowkey judging by how they ‘cum’ at the end (after you ‘satisfy’ them) so when they’ve ‘really cum’ their horns don’t always produce, not unless they are being stimulated or are heavily aroused.

Here are the pics from ‘secrets club’

(It took be over 20 mins to get a pic with the pre in it)

So their horns without fail are always a rainbow touch meaning it’s where they WANT to be touched. They only get the ‘spurting out cum’ if you are actually touching them otherwise they just drip/ooze.

Given how surprised they are when touched and how quickly they get aroused to the point they don’t need to use their dick. I assume it probably sends them just as much, if not more as their actual cock since Satan basically hit his edge once he was grabbed by the horn.

It’s probably like, a intense feeling of pleasure that corses through them while it’s being stimulated? But I imagine it’s also like, really fucking painful to be hurt there, and the devils say “we reguard our well-being by our horns!” Sp it is also probably Like, a mental stimulation to the thought of being touched there, so it’s probably a mix of physical and mental pleasure/pain

I think penetration with horns is possible but not ideal as it seems…almost every horn type is fucking sharp. You gotta corkscrew the bitches before you fuck then-

I think it’s possible though! They probably prefer grinding though, that seems more pleasurable on both ends

[cloudcountry]

I wanted to ask why you hated Idia so much back then and the reason you adore him?

im gonna start telling people to pay me whenever they ask why i hate(d) idia because ive got this question easily 20 different times and frankly i'm losing money by not accepting payment

im not writing all that again i'm so tired of explaining it over and over ughhhh its not your fault min its just i seem to be a skipping record with how often i've had to repeat the same thing over and over and over for a YEAR and people just KEEP ASKING like ok you want to know about my relationship with idia shroud PAY UP!!!!!

anyways...i havent written about the things i adore about him yet so...

first first first!! the thing that made me gasp the softest gasp i have ever gasped in my life when i first saw it...his pink hair. its a bit superficial i guess but now that i like idia i think he's stunning. he's so hauntingly beautiful, especially when he's just a little bit flustered and the tips of his hair turn pink. what i would do to see his whole head turn pink PLEASE.

i also think his smile is so silly, even though it's usually accompanied by his smug ass voice "should'a leveled up more!" SHUT UP!!!!! i love his sharp teeth theyre so goofy nd silly but in a cute way. honestly i think his scowl is cute too, idk maybe i just like his lips but watching them twist up in annoyance when he rolls his eyes is attractive to me dont ask i dont know either. does that say something about me? maybe. i'm content with not knowing.

onto less superficial things...i just finished reading book six yesterday and it struck me how idia's heart is genuinely so beautiful. he loves so gently and fully, but with devotion that would destroy the world if he let it loose. being loved and treasured by idia is a privilege, because once he lets you in he would do anything for you (just dont fuck it up or i will beat you up im being so serious LEAVE HIM ALONE)

the extent to which he cares for ortho is so beautiful and so heartbreaking. "leave it to your big bro" im dead. everything he does is for ortho to have a safe and fulfilling life and honestly...it kind of seems like idia is trying to pay ortho back in a sense? like you died (because of me), now i will spend the rest of my life mourning you as punishment. he wants to give him the best life possible and thats just so ourgourgouhgohou,,,, his grieving is so complex and yet its so simple. heartbreaking i tell you.

on a lighter note, he's very passionate about the things he's into as well. one thing about figuring our how to like idia was turning my reaction to his condescending jabs from "oh he's such a know it all bitch what the hell people are literally just indulging in his interests what is wrong with him?" TO "oh he's just excited and getting an adrenaline rush, it's going to his head. he's happy. :)" and that was absolutely growth on my part because. ok AUBURN LORE TIME but i used to have a friend who was very condescending and a HUGE know it all (irl IRL IRL) and i think they definitely impacted how i saw idia because i saw bits of them in him. and since they hurt me so much i projected my experiences with them onto idia, so the first time i met him in game i wrote him off immediately and hated him after i saw what he said to others and how he acted.

but one of the many problems with that approach was that i missed the gentler sides of him. the way he goes back to school for ortho. the way he powers through the masquerade social for ortho. his idea of yuu being "valuable emotional support." his love of cats, regardless of how bad he scared grim. his love of star rogue and the way he made the sequel actually happen, albiet unintentionally. i spent so much time resenting him because "of course he's just another one of those." that i didn't stop to notice anything about him except for those bad moments. and of course, i'm not ignoring them now, i just see them differently. i see him differently.

of course i love that he's relatable, and that he's smart, and i love how when he's comfortable he loses his filter and becomes idia shroud instead of just being Scared of them, but i think that's just. social anxiety. and yk what ive said this before but even when i hated him i would NOT stand for anyone coming for his anxiety. like yeah i hate idia shroud but BITCH GET AWAY FROM HIM. YOU DONT KNOW WHAT ANXIETY IS LIKE!!! put me in nrc right now idia shroud needs someone who will yell at people for him and thats going to be ME. i dont care who you are you say shit you are earning my IRE. trey clover got yelled at. no one is safe.

can i just say i love how you said "reason" like there's only one JDSJSDJSD LMAO IDK IT WAS JUST FUNNY TO ME when i love someone i have multiple reasons and i love every part of them, even the bad annoying icky parts (in fact, if you can't love their bad parts too is it even love...? i dont know, we all have different definitions anyway. some might think tolerating their bad parts is love too and we'd both be right.) theres no one reason i just think he's lovely inside and out now. he's an angel, basically.

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

I noticed earlier you posted and stuff. I was mid-writing, but I just wanted to make sure you were ok. (Now finished and my brain literally wants to go jump into cold water and lowkey drown-) Honestly, I can understand the point of how you can feel like based on a fic. Honestly, who hasn't felt it as a writer? And the fact that shit we like/are passionate abt becomes a flop. It's confusing, 'cause writing should be full of you being passionate, but instead, it's basically getting slapped in the face like:

"Bitch, what is this?" "Me liking smth a lot? Me enjoying writing this?" "Ew." 38 likes.

Literally, it feels like that at points. Sometimes it feels like you shouldn't even feel passionate to write if you're gonna literally get 20 - 50 likes you wrote about 4k words on. Or that nobody even tries to socialize with you. I thought I'd at least get one ask already abt SOMETHING. ANYTHING. I'm still waiting, even with 100 followers now. I know, that's like high expectations, but now I don't honestly care abt it.

Sometimes I hate the fact I have to sexualize Leon in certain ways to be liked. I literally hate Respect Your Elders sm, you don't even understand. Yes, it feels like him, but at the same time, I look at it and feel disgusted. I know, basically started writing two-ish weeks ago, but I'm already getting into the mindset of looking at my past writing and going "icky". I honestly feel pressured to write like others and it sucks. It's a never-ending cycle for certain feelings, and it's so bfcuiewsdjkcnx!? LIKE, WHY CAN'T I ENJOY IT!?

But, in the end, sooner than later... You will be able to grow a small following. Looking at people like thevirgincherry, nexysworld, or explorevenus honestly inspires me. I know it might not inspire you, but honestly, write whatever you want. It's hard to break the mindset of likes/reblogs/interacting = worth. I still have yet to break that cycle, but slowly it's getting broken.

And no, it isn't exactly your period talking for you. Ok, maybe but mostly no. You're being honest about how you feel, and that's honestly valued by a lot of people. It may not seem like it at this point in time, but it feels human. It's a small thing people value a LOT. I know this may not exactly help you or exactly do whatever you wanted it to do. I'm just happy I can relate to someone about this.

About the commission part too, btw, I understand that. Honestly, I don't want to do commissions, but I can understand why a lot of people do it. To know someone actually LIKES your writing, like they get up, EXCITED, happy, WHATEVER! Literally fills every single writer with joy. Sure, you may not be getting vocal support, but I know without a doubt someone would smile, or their day gets brightened because you posted.

I just wanted to send smth in case you still felt bad! Idrc if you delete/post/answer/privately answer sooooo. But I hope you feel slightly better reading this!

(Tumblr pls send this mf I sat here for abt 10 min.)

thank you for sending this! (it kinda was my period tho lol i just started crying ab nothing) i'm totally fine, i am just sometimes cringe and not in the cute and quirky way. i need to learn to be normal about posting my writing. usually, i don't like the things that i write, but w/ daddy all along it's such a personal thing and i also enjoyed writing and like the finished product, so i care too much about what everyone thinks of it. and i don't care about fame or money, but i do want friends :( i want people to talk to about stuff, y'know? and one day (once i get better at writing lol) i want to be someone's favorite writer, i want someone to cry while they're reading my stuff, i want someone to beg me for updates. i've read certain fics that have made me audibly sob and i wish i could write that well. there's a fic that i've been reading that i love so much and i check my email all the time hoping it'll be updated. i have my fave fics downloaded to my computer so i can highlight the parts i like. one fanfic inspired me to write fanfiction and actually post it. like i'm in awe of some people. so, i put dual emphasis on everything. obv most of my works are smut so i don't expect them to emotionally affect people but i was crying while i wrote the ending of daddy all along so i want it to be emotionally evocative ig but yeah, i seek both to be liked as a person and for my writing to be liked and i just need to chill sometimes.

<3

[ididkn0w]

Ok so bro there’s no fucking wifi like there is but it’s the same ducking sjit I’ll send u a ss. I’m low key anxious bc Ik I said I would be here man. I’m gonna beg for hotspot later but I’m on my notes now. Baby ur so fucking sweet I love you so much I wanna cuddle babe I wanna cuddle so bad. I can’t believe I wrote a whole other thing with the pictures n stuff and like it was sending and it said like oops try again some shit like that n I was like … ok hopefully the restore draft thing pops up. It didn’t. So now I’m here so I’m now at the fair bro fuxk Ik I didn’t even tell u I was leaving but I was brushing my teef n they had the door open like in the elevator n all n they were like we have to go and babe I couldn’t im sorry. So lemme tell u about today a lil before I finish telling u about yesterday. Bro I love you so fucking much 😭 ur my best fucking friendddd. So basically we left n I didn’t even shower n I feel so dirty. So we left n the bus was leaving at 9 so we ran to the bus stop and my uncle and his wife were alr there they left like 20 min before to make the line. So we get there n like we had just ran there bc they were boarding and these guys behind them start bitching ab us getting in the back of the line n they were all like I was here like this is my family n shit and whatever and bro like I wanted to kill that man bc he was I sitting that we couldn’t go on the bus bc we had to go to the back of the line. So while they were All arguing like the guy who managed the bus was telling us let’s go on the next bus like it’s here and obv it was a lie like he just didn’t wanna let us get on the bus and that it was full n shit. So me and my grandpa got on the bus while the rest of my family were arguing😭 n there like 15 seats left dawg n so they pulled the my family is on the bus now card so yeah we got on it and like there was literally no point in any of that even the people who were mad got on n it wasn’t like no fucking field trip bro like there was no benefit at all to be the first person off the bus😭 but ok. So then I fell asleep on the bus for two hours the bus ride was two hours shit was so fucking far away bro. N I was sleeping n it felt like four hours bc I woke up every once in a while bc it was uncomfortable n all so yes we got there n bro my stomach was HURTINNN. Like the tule to get into a ball in bed bc it be that painful but after like 45 min I was Alr. And so this entire time I’ve just been fucking walking and walking behind them and once in awhile they sit with people and so like these rlly nothing to it. Now I will finish telling u about yesterday

[inkdemon-whore]

it's midnight for me anon, and i'm so sorry, i'll try and give you a better response in the morning, but i just wrote the longest shit, so one sec, imma sorta post your ask twice if that's chill. here's the midnight rant, shitpost vibe response

-clears throat-

bitter little bitch boy who things everyone is out to get him and just wants to punch walls and cry.

idiot little guy who probably does actually think way too much about how everyone else thinks about him, and he's doin the "FINE you want evil? i'll be evil" thing and getting away with it for now by dissociating to hell and back.

he just wants to be held, but he's so calloused and cold and distant and scared and his heart is within 20 layers of aluminium foil and being put into a microwave by himself and others for an hour, like the wolds most dangerous backed potato.

"two.... birds.... on a wiiiirrrreeerrr.... one, tries to fly, away, and the oooottthhhheeeerrrrr." he is both birds he's both he's both of them.

a single lion, pacing in his enclosure with no pride. the pumpkins filled with meat are not enough, and he is going to kill the first child that someone accidentally drops in.

would probably hoard a corps at this point, not eat it, and simply throw it around for hours while other ppl tried to get it away from him.

cries at night and listens to music boxes.

doesn't believe in god, but is screaming with his whole chest at the skies anyway, and going into a laughing fit from the euphoria, only for the high to stop way too soon and for him to start screaming again not even 2 min later.

fantasies about someone holding his face, and just staying like that forever... cries again.

is keepin it together by making his head as empty as he possibly can. if no thought, than no feel.

.......

i'll answer the actual ask if i can think of a better response in the morning.

[orcelito]

Can't believe I worked 8.5 hours today AND biked 40 minutes in the middle of it

More specifically I went up the river trail bc I wanted to sit on a bench and write. Except the foliage isn't grown in yet (leaves still working on growing) so the bench I wanted to sit on was in direct sunlight. No can do for this heat sensitive bitch. So I just. Kept going? Biked another 10 mins down the path until i found a good bench. Sat there & wrote for like half an hour. Then I got the SOS & biked the 20 mins back lol

I have no idea how I'm not utterly fuckin wasted honestly. Tho I really should be getting to bed

[rainbowgothdisaster]

i dont give a shit about baldurs gate or know jack shit about it and i am about to block astarions tag

me and my mum had a 30 min session of dragging this man. hes so bland!! hes the first gay guy you see at a community center. go to your local theatre and hes the main characters understudy. hes the token gay man at church. hes babys first old oc and by old i mean 36 and drawn by someone who thinks life ends in your mid 20s. hes got substitute teacher vibes. he badly wrote a book and self published it on amazon.

bitch i know yall have better characters, ive seen wyll, get this man who got 5 grey hairs and decided to just go whole grey off my dash. i wanna see more of the giant flaming woman or whatever she is

[gibbingtonwibbington]

NUber and CVS suck.

I totally did not have the energy for that.

I’m shivvering under a blanket all over again.

I knew it. I knew it as soon as I was forced to sit on the steps waiting 20 plus minutes for a “3-4-3-4” min away NUberfkndriver to show up.

Like what’s he doing? Jerking one cuz he had a young, nubile, Valentine’s day couple to drop off, eh? Fucker in his orange fucking jeep renegade.

Canceled dat BITCH FO SHO BAYBAY.

Then got into a dope ass suv who decided to show off by driving crazy along w two other’s in cvs parking lot.

That guy totally was an ass, truck bitch was at fault 100%. I even wrote a thing to Uber just to make sure they have my say in it. My dude drove forward before the guy backed up ( I didn’t tell them that though lol) I didn’t tell them because we totally would have made it past him if he didn’t back up sideways like a fkn tard on the WORST road to do that on. We needed a second for him to wait and it would’ve been fine. He didn’t cut the wheel at all either. I said “why the fuck did he back up?” then I said “do u just want me to go inside? “ n he was like YA! Walked out n looked at his crushed side mirror n wasliwtf

Hhhhh

it was glorious. He stepped WAY THE FUCK back after this dumb back and forth..

Isaid, that means nothing.”

For the third time to this huge fuckin 6ft whatever tall bald Especially didn’t want to run into my new “best friend” …this one DIPSHIT cop that I made a complete fool put of. Oh god I loved it. I got off later on about it. He was so RED in the face with embarrassment and a flu apparently. He legit blew air in my face. It had to be him. I should call back just to give it back to him. I knew the other cop. He knew me, he knew I wasn’t lying. The last faces i said i wanted to see were theirs and apologized.

Uhh did that flu ridden mofo even search our names? Of course naht! I’m TOO old (for this obnoxious ((mid 20’s but looks older than me) neighbor having no life and being obsessed even though a lesbian joke happened) shit. I’m older than one of the cops by 3 yrs and grumpymcflufuck was at least 41. and I don’t even have a single speeding fucking ticket. flu riddenmofofo

My uber driver would’ve been way more embarrassed if I was standing with that group of middle aged 50-60 yr old men group. Fuck that. I went inside and then snuck over to the 24 store across the street to pee lol. N he said yea. Cuz they had to call the cops n these three dudes were sucking any surrounding witnesses into standing outside with them waiting for the cops. The truck guy was like did u see that can u wait here to some rasta dude in some white eRly 80’s car no shit. I am thinking bro why do u want more witnesses to you fucking up? It’s an accident. That dude wasn’t even a part of it. We had a line of traffic! I can only assume he’s not from around here. There’s a lot of construction shit going on here

So there was this kinda crazy bitch back in my middlechool yrs calles Cristina. I jeard she became a chunky lesbian stripper in Miami. I just searched, I was curious, haven’t heard a word bout this gal in ages, from anyone. Not even the one dude who was obsessed. She makes these pop art super easy canvas things, which an elephant has made look better and it doesn’t have fingers. A trunk is pretty flexible but anyway…lol…she makes these cliché ’ pop-art (insanely simplified) hand-netted basketball nets. Not sure if she’s the only one but it totally seems niche-like. Her art isn’t terrible but it’s NoT something that would make me say wow wtf?

Fkn weaksauce.

So she’s bragging on this fake ass interview thing she posted herself haha and mentions she’s sold to some high rollers like Rlck ross n a bunch of other low mil net worth ppl

n im just like… yea, you’re not applying yourself whole-heartedly, Christina.

HahaHAHA.

Cmon man…

#1 Leave Miami.

Lol

#2 Talk to OTHER people, make friends.., reach outwards.

[rawrmeansilyindinosawr]

SUNMER IS OVER N IM. WORRIED AB KORN KID

house of YAS had a end of summer Block Pawty n yr frwend tells u to meet him in front of the bus and that his only descriptor in the masses of people is dhat he's a v" tall black stranger. " I find him ofc then we dance on tha stage n get free flowerz n then go to tha subway to do lines of K on the floor then a white man stops us n asks us for some then i give stingy lines for the $20 he gave me cuz i don't get paid til lik end of the month or something.

iknewSummer wuz over when we held each other when we got out of the station n k holed in an intersection n felt the sweat from our bodies glisten in the light the sun n ate artichoke pizza til we called ubers behind each otherrzz backs .

Always luv n support ur fwendzz dreams by manifesting them via thrusting ur thussy in 4/4 time . im Waiting for my soulmate but it's taking forever so im passing the nitez inhaling cough drops like candy in front of tha bk bridge on a tues nite doin k w yr french fwend saying "CWaSaaaaint "rly loud n peeing together streams on tha rawks n trading shoes n telling stories of bad dates. I fukin fell on the rawks but steve maddin is kewl as fuk!!!!!

Startet my new job n i luv it. My kiddos r routy as hell n come from diff places in life but all love fashion n drawing n self expression!!! It's so kute n teaching them techniques in sewing n threading n bookmaking via zines ... so fulfilling n my headquarterz isrite nxt to tha Crythtsal meth i mean chystler building in midtown. It v profeshhh and i still rly hope my boss doesn't find my tumblr or ig cuz It will prob b it for moi. >:[[

Tired of ppl askin meh for threesomes n my tauruskink. saw a guy walkin around with his chiuaua on his shoulderzz N a lady eatin an avocado lik an apple n played the staring game with a squirrel at rockaway Beach. he won. It's my BDAAYYYY week!!!! I kant believe it's been an entire yr since my last bday!!!!!!!!!! Why r birfdayz a yr apart????? moi fam in town so i booked dem what i thought was a chil Airbnb near meh but dis bitch was fuckkn INSANE also the airbnB had asbestos in the ceiling and blood stains on the sheetz n on the floor!!!!!!!!!! Rehousing them took a min i searched for lik 2 hours on my phone for hotels in the surrounding area n it wuz So fuckin expensivv but it worked out] i lowkey hihkey got triggered cuz meh first roomie situation wuz TERIBLe. one of my roommates lik fell in love w me and wrote me a letter saying how he's the 2nd coming of jesus and im like the angel he's supposed 2 be w cuz my fav number is 12 ????????? ? ?? Also he asked for the letter back by knocking on my door at like 6am and burning it rite in front of me which was violent behavior n scary .i obv don't live there anymore but i rly still prefer living alone n am tryna save up for dat Asap back in my digital camera era n im tempted to bring fb albums back. Pix from dis week of my kute frwendz and me ft. cobra snake merch. Mark says i'm a superstar!!!!!!

i drove to filly 2 visit my fwend kenz n eat spicy tuna guac n go to a concert. Lizzy Mxalpine is sooo hot. But i wonder who hurt her cuz like …??????? Omg.

Also dere was an extrmtly drunk bitch behind my sis at tha concert who kept bumping into every1 n it was so annoying but also same. first time i went to philly wuz when i wuz 17 to share my poetry for the NAACP ni saw some1 get hit by a car n tht was kinda it for me 2 luv dat city. I luv luv luv filly. But im sry those cheesesteaks are

1. not Steaks fillt with cheeze.

2. Not good sandwiches enough to be called

sandwiches.

3. Just Meat with cheeze in between some stale grains.

i yam studying how to b an enneagram coach so i could teach classes n empower ppl to continue to find themselves n their path!!!! i yam tryna also Recruit more kiddos for the fashion workshop nxtmonth for my job!!! Who want meh to teach ur babies how to sew n make cool clothes!!!!!! My bday party wuz lit, n i boofed 4 my 25th. Its actually a V Vv v v v hard procedure n moi fwendzz said to clench real rite n hold it there til u khole but tbh i don't rly think idid it rite n i was warned ab the K squirts if i didn't clench rite n i wuz walkin around my own bday party w a wet butt. Butt itz ok cuz i luv science n i now hav a clear eyes Ketamine solution i kan boof myself when im alone. Or when im not alone. RAWR XD.

saw moi tumblr friend n scorpio crush n got kissed by my enemy/old lover/situation-ship n only lost $250 mayb gettin asked 4 600 more on top of datttttttt and l0st my ID as collateral at tha bar LOOK IM SRTYY BUT $1600 MINIMUM IZ LIKE NOT ACHIEVABLE N ITZ NOT MY FAULT LIKE 10 -20 PpL bailed. but im NEVEr hosting my own bday part EVERRR again cuz what the fuking FOOK that wasSTRESSFULZ.

IM HIGH AS SHIT ON AN ADDERL RUNNING AROUND TARGET N MY MUM KANNT KATCH ME EVEN IF SHE TRIED HAHHAHAMAHWAHAHA.

i Posted this super long ig caption w this hawt pic ofmeh wearing tiffs clothes of my reflectionzz moving Forward w nyfw/fashion industry / MODELING..

basically said Fuk it to it and knew id get a bunch of bookingzz after i posted tht shit cuz fashion industry wants ppl tht r like me - rebellious n new n edgy? But at the same time ostracize ppl like meh. Sooi just made a public statement tht i rly don't Give aflying fuk and now i got designers from columbia asking me to walk for their show in nyc in oct... I still don't kno but i finally got a call bak from callen lourde sayin they will accept me as a new patient starting 10/19 n i kant wait to spill all my mental fuckin illness on these professionalzz cuz it's ab time i get back to talkin ab y dissociation n retail therapy N adderal r my fav act of self kare AT M. speaking of soulmatezz do u ever get dat feelin around someon3 u don't know but u feel like u know them?? but u don't. n tht just makes u more curious ab them cuz it's rly an intriguing magnetic pull but ur also lik completely afraid of rejection n kno dat dating u would look like apologizing constantly n feeling avoidant n scared a lot of the timezzz so0000 Ya ima get fixed. my goals this yr before i turn 26 r to deeply invest in my private life n work on BOUNDARIEZZZ.

dating shuld b taken slowly n i don't wanna hav to give a lot of myself or feel the need to share everything at once to build a connection initially. everythin tht lasts long is a slow process Ni rly am in a better mental space w tht. But learning to express my needzz is important n i need to do dat in every relationship i hav.. I hav a lot of pain surrounding my familv n past as well as new trauma within the last 3 months.

so i need to rly unpack it . It's crZi how i thought i could heal by healing others, and how needing each other / community is healing but also in wayzzi am resentful now and emotionally drained be of it? i am not the giving tree N i need to acknowledge tht just bc i set boundaries w ppl it does not mean i will «lose my charm" or be rejected by Ppl or not be fully seen as "kind" or worthwhile.

EVERY1 shuld try to b trans at least ONCE in their lifetime n also if ur hawt u kill laternfliezz by Stomping on them three timez AT DA VERY LEASTTT. i am so000o worried ab corn kid too. HE JUST WANTS A NORMAL LIFE NOW! leave Him ALONE!!!!!!

i think mY publisher is mad at me and I keep having tha craziest diarrhea. Wish meh luck this week teaching in these conditionzz n still tryna b tha hottest reincarnation of devon Aoki. Also i hav been sleeping w music on n i woke up to yoke lore "beige"n tha lyrics fukin made me cry n masturbate .

"Tell me something I don't know

And lead me to the place where no one ever goes

Let me go under your skin

Let me find the demons that drive those heavenly

limbs

You know you're beautiful

But that ain't half the gold treasure in your soul what

you got 'cause I want it all

With your fingers in my mouth, I fail to see your faults

So please don't let me fall

So please don't let me fall

And I think we'd survive in the wild

We would eat plants and roots and dream about

electric fans"

Bless up, west side til I die, U kno i keep dat thang on me (bottle of Q pee mayo in my hello kitty tote bag) , taylor swift U Belong With Me listener on repeat cuz i'm a virgin again..... I feel so untouched ni want u so much tht i just kant resist u It's not enough to say dat i miss u, 0o 0o la la lalalLallalLalalLlalallalalaa im so sad i mised rolling loud.

xxxx renny :-[

[brutal-nemesis]

E&T Atonement AU-Sample Collection

Aight I return to y’all with this sexi lil bitch. Medical accuracy? Never heard of her 

←Previous - Erebus & Terror Masterlist - Next→

Ingredients: giant needle hours, lab whump, fingernail whump

That was, without a doubt, the largest needle he had ever seen. It was freakishly long and impossibly thick, and he couldn’t imagine it was for drawing blood.

He whined in terrified anticipation as Neteri sterilized part of his upper right arm, and did his best to keep himself from crying out into the gag as she cut out a small chunk of his skin and muscle. Then came the needle, sliding through the opening in his flesh. A shiver went up his spine as he felt it tap against bone, but oh, it didn’t stop there, it kept pushing, pressure building up against his bone until it punched through with a sickening crack. He screamed as a bolt of pain shot up his arm, shuddering as he felt the needle slide deeper inside his bone.

The needle stayed in there for a few minutes, drawing out whatever it was she wanted from in there. He kept his gaze focused on the now-blank ceiling, tears watering out his vision every few moments. He can never seem to stop crying nowadays, and today is no exception. When she slid the needle back out he couldn’t help but whine, escalating into a scream as her healing magic closed up the hole she’d made in his arm.

Something cold touched an equivalent spot on his left arm, and his heart sank. She was going to do the same thing again, wasn’t she? Yes, yes, once again his flesh was cut out and collected, once again the huge needle punctured his bone, once again everything was painfully healed up like nothing had ever even happened.

Next, she gripped his right thumb tightly, keeping his hand still, and he didn’t understand why until he felt something grab onto his fingernail and start to pull. He screamed but she kept pulling despite his muffled pleas of no no wait stop please I won’t ever try to run please- The pitch-black nail wrenched free, choking an inhuman cry out of him as raw agony raced up his entire arm. The pain almost doubled as she started healing it, forcing the fingernail to grow back unnaturally fast, wrenching out all manner of wails.

Even when the healing and the pain finally stopped, it was still too much. He sobbed, what was even the point of this if she was just going to heal everything back up? But he knew why, he knew all too well she was just taking away pieces of him so she could study them. It was all he was good for now, being sliced up and studied and put on display-

Her hand wrapped around his left thumb, pliers gripping the nail.

He screamed before she even started pulling.

Next→

Tags: @dramaticcollapse @thehopelessopus @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @galaxywhump @as-a-matter-of-whump @mnmlover2002 @tears-and-lilies @yet-another-heathen @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @starnight-whump @unicornscotty @thebewilderer @kixngiggles @itallstartedwithharry

[spideyspeaches]

You're worth it ↬p.p

A/N: I'm in my sick feels so here's some sick whiny Peter 😔😔✨💔 also I wrote this at 2 am in like 20 mins lol so rip.

Wc: 1.3k

Warnings: uhh general sickness, Peter being a dramatic lil bitch.

Pairing: college!Peter Parker x Avenger!Reader (with a lot of platonic MJ)

Masterlist

Peter was pretty sure he was dying. No, he wasn't being dramatic.

In all the years of being Spider-Man, he could count on his fingers the number of times he had gotten sick. And it was one.

He remembered when he got bit by the radioactive spider on the field trip to OsCorp, the week later which he spent in bed, sweating on every surface and a fever so high the doctors wondered how his brain hadn't melted yet.

Even when all the resources were exhausted, they couldn't find a cause, and the miraculous recovery with a plus of the sudden appearence of abs and growing biceps had been more of a relief than a dismissal by the doctors, each of them releasing a sigh of relief, neither of them noticing the strange behaviour Peter seemed to be exhibiting when he opened his eyes to the bright, technicolor world after seven days of brutal bouts of vomiting and brain splitting headaches.

So yes, Peter Parker didn't get sick. Not after the fateful spiderbite that made him who he was. Even Dr. Banner had been fascinated by his body chemistry, and if he hadn't been lost in his fangirling that the Bruce Banner wanted to do more check ins of his body, he would have noticed that he could, in fact, get sick. His immune system may have significantly increased, but he was still not entirely immune to college kids germs who wore their underwear inside out to save laundry money.

"You look like a zombie." MJ deadpanned in true MJ fashion, pointing her pen, the bright pink plastic fake diamond a brief distraction from the headache pounding in his skull. It made him go squint eyed, inevitably increasing the headache when he saw past the blurry outline of the diamond.

"Thanks Em, appreciate it." He muttered, raising an eyebrow to look at her smirking face. He suddenly remembered about You. You and MJ had the same smile, he noticed, a lump of misery forming in his throat.

His mood dropped even more when he felt his throat burn with a strong sense of nostalgia. You weren't in college with him due to your job as a full time avenger, so sue him that he really fucking missed you. It's not like you never talked, but his head was killing him and he was really touch starved and college just really fucking sucked.

"I'm not being mean, believe it or not, but you look dead on your feet and your girlfriend will kill me if I bring you in more than one piece." She said, her voice softer than it had been before.

"I'm fine MJ, just do the project." He sighed, looking at his course book, trying to catch the sudden onset of magenta and green lights in his vision. Huh, maybe he was having a stroke.

Rubbing his left eye in frustration, he groaned, throwing his textbook across his room, flopping on the college issued bunk bed that he swore was going to give him back issues before his spidey shenanigans could.

"Y/N won't kill you, she respects you too much for that." He said, fiddling with the threads hanging on his sheets, a hand behind his head as he looked at the ceiling. Chills were starting to set in his bones, and it was not just by MJ's scrutinizing stare.

"You're sick." She stated, smirking as he rolled his eyes, rolling over and burying his face in the cool pillow.

"No shit Sherlock." He huffed, sitting up to take in a breath the pillow was restricting, the lump in his throat growing. And before he knew it, hot tears were rolling down his cheeks, a strange choking sound coming from his throat, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment, and the heat of his fever wasn't making it any better.

"I- I miss y/n so much." He sniffed, his words sound clogged with the mucus stuffed in his sinuses and nose. Wiping a hand across his nose, he choked out a sob, burying his face deeper in his pillow.

"Hey, oh man, hey Parker! Oh god please don't cry, shit ok-" MJ rambled, her shuffling making him cry harder as he whined at the contact of her cool palm, "shit you're burning up! Oh man who do I call who do I call? Of course I'm an idiot."

Her mutters were kind of soothing, but he was too embarrassed to admit that as he brought the pillow closer to him, imagining it was you instead of a stuffed cotten pillow, trying to feel your fingers running through his hair as you repeatedly kissed his forehead.

Sniffling, he blinked hard, watching MJ pace as she talked on the phone with someone, his brain too disoriented trying to get the heat to expel from his body to notice who she was talking to. She looked frantic, her palm over her mouth as her muffled words made his eyes droop, and just like that, he was out like light.

~

"Hey, wake up baby, I came bearing gifts." Your soft voice rose him up from his unrestful slumber, groaning as sudden noises bombarded his ears.

He gave a sigh of relief when he felt a familiar pair of headsets on his ears, the noises quietening. He opened his eyes, slowly at first to see a vague silhouette of you, wondering if this was some kind of fevered dream.

You and Peter face timed a lot, but you rarely visited due to the long drives. You had visited just this weekend, so he was surprised to see you here, his head cushioned on your thigh as your fingers ran over his hair.

"Am I dreamin'?" He croacked, a smile forming on his face as he heard you giggle, warmth spreading in his chest as you leaned in to kiss his forehead.

"No dummy, you just have a temperature high enough to burn Satan." You smirked, booping his nose softly.

"That's pretty hot. I'm so hot." He snickered, turning around to dig his nose into your thigh.

"Yeah, you're the hottest. My hot dum dum." You said. Shifting slightly, he heard the rustling of bottles, immideatly knowing those were his super painkillers Dr. Cho had brewed specifically for his metabolism.

"You didn't have to come all over here baby, did you use your suit?" Peter asked, getting up from his position. Wincing, he cracked his neck, groaning as his body reminded him of his current condition. He felt like a giant bruise, slumping next to you as you wrapped your arm around his shoulder.

"You're worth it Petey. I would go wherever you go." You whispered, brushing his curls back. Getting up, you reached for the filled glass you had kept at the bedside, handing it to him along with the pills. He took them gratefully, gulping the pills and the water down at once.

Leaning on your shoulder, he kissed the exposed skin of your shoulder, rubbing his forehead over there as he thanked you silently, a random chill shooting up his spine, making his muscles spasm.

"Where's MJ?" He muttered, looking at you through his lashes.

"Dunno," you muttered back, "said something about not wanting your germs or something."

"Probably just went to room with Harley. She's got a huge fucking crush on him, just won' admit it." Peter said, smirking from his position.

"Really? I didn't notice!" You snickered, rolling over to squish his cheeks.

"Please, I bet he'll ask her out by the end of this semester."

"This semester? I bet that's gonna happen by the end of this month."

"Bet's on then."

Laughing at the crack oh his voice, you pushed him back lightly by his chest, scratching his sweaty scalp as he sighed under your fingers.

"Y/n?" He asked, holding your fingers to his chest.

"Hmm?"

"Thanks for coming so soon."

"Of course I came dummy."

Smiling at his dimpled face, you wiggled a little to fit next to him, wrapping your hand over his chest and throwing your leg over his.

"Y/n?" He asked again.

"Hmm?"

"I love you."

"I love you too."

A/N: this is so self indulgent 😋😋 lol. Leave a comment if you liked it! 💞💞

[bubblyhoney]

soundtrack

warnings: sailor language, suggestive themes/mentions of sex, drinking, nicotine use, being tipsy/intoxicated. no graphic or explicit nsfw content besides basically tonguing and giving hickeys and an ass grab.

tags: karl jacobs x fem!reader

words: 1898

A/N: i wrote this thinking that both people in this fic are of drinking age; i’m not, but i thought it would be a cool idea. i can assume many adult gatherings feature alcohol, so yeah. drinking isn’t integral to the plot of this fic. also it is pre-(or post)pandemic bc it’s just a general rule of thumb to not have parties right now.

-

“Don’t, kill, me,” Karl warbles, setting down his bottle with a sigh. Freaks plays loud and tinny on the TV, album cover bathing those occupying the couch in a grayish light. Those occupants being just you and Karl. The room is lit with purple string lights and that one thrifted lamp with frogs on the shade he’d sworn was the best purchase he’s ever made. You’re sprawled out on the other half of the sofa, ankles crossed and a can of vodka seltzer swaying in your hand. The song changes to 20 Min by Lil Uzi and your foot bounces to the beat.

“What time is it?” You sigh, placing the nearly-empty can onto the coffee table next to your apple berry-flavored pen. He flicks his wrist towards his face.

“2:46,” he delivers, and takes a swig of the Angry Orchard in his hand. His sixth, specifically. The rest of the group had left roughly ten minutes ago, leaving the two loneliest people to drink alone. You, thoroughly tipsy, decided it was better to spend the night on his spare than pay $50 for an Uber. He agreed, of course. Why wouldn’t he?

Lifting onto your elbows, you just stare at him. He lifts an ankle to cross over the other and your eyes drop. What is his fascination with Spongebob socks?

“We should play 20 questions.”

“What?” His head swivels like a bobblehead and a giggle barely escapes your lips.

“20 questions!” You say excitedly, heaving onto your knees to look at him earnestly. “You go first.”

“Um, okay.” The song fades into Paper Planes and he bobs his head to the beat. “What’s your favorite breed of dog?”

“Shiba inu. Are you a virgin?”

The fucking tone of your voice makes him dissolve into giggles, hand pressed to his chest. You just shrug, reaching for the pen in the table. “Fair question, I think,” you say defensively. His chest heaves, but he sits up.

“No—no, I’m not a virgin.” His cheeks are red, but he’s smiling like it was an easy answer. Your mind floods with images of his long hair in your face, long fingers—a sweaty chest. You shake your head. “Okay, my turn,” he continues, giving you a weird look. “would you rather kiss Chucky Cheese or Ronald McDonald?”

“Karl!” You whine. “That is not how 20 Questions works!” You grumpily pull from your pen, blowing the smoke out of the side of your mouth. Eughk. Apple berry sucks.

“Fine, fine,” he sighs, rolling his eyes. The tell-tale guitar chords of The Adults Are Talking floods the room and his face brightens with a new question. “Have you ever been to a concert?”

“Yes, actually. The Jonas Brothers in 2009.” He wrinkles his nose, finishing his cider and dropping it onto the coffee table with a sharp noise. Your eyebrows furrow. “Don’t you dare badmouth my boys.”

“Wasn’t gonna!” He reaches for your pen and you give it to him with a slight pout on your lips that he glances at.

“Good. Where is the weirdest place you’ve had sex?” A grin climbs your lips.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N.” His eyes widen and smoke curls out of his nostrils as he hands your pen back. You just shrug and pick up your discarded seltzer. “Gimme a sec to think.”

“So many places?” You tease, finishing the last drop of your drink and crushing it beneath your palm. He shrugs, mirroring you, and cracks open another cider. He seems to think, brows furrowing, as he pulls a swig from the dark bottle.

“Boat.”

“Boat,” you repeat.

“Yup.” He looks at you, gaze flickering to your lips imperceptibly fast. If you were sober you’d probably notice, but you’re not and you don’t.

“You’ve fucked on a boat?” No way. Karl Jacobs. On a boat. Having sex. What an image—

“Yeah, senior year was great for me.” More Than A Woman fills the space of the silence as you consider this. You blink, processing.

“Whose boat?” You're genuinely curious. Was it a yacht, pontoon, fishing boat? Row boat? The sudden scene of him getting his foot stuck in a fishing net while pantless clouds your vision.

“My girlfriend’s.” And that’s that on that because he’s moving on before you can open your mouth and continue the discussion of the logistics of this. “Stop investigating, perv. Now it’s my turn. Hmm— wait! Where is the weirdest place you have had sex?” A sneaky grin is on his lips and now you just want to kiss him, damn it.

“I-Uh. I think it was under the bleachers. I also had a great senior year,” you offer, scooting forward on your knees so that you’re only a foot from Karl. He looks impressed, actually.

“Who was it?”

Your eyebrow raises in question.

“Personal question or one of the 16 left, Karl?”

His cheeks heat and he looks once to the TV.

“Personal,” he mutters into the mouth of his bottle.

“It was Brian Hernandez,” you sigh, gazing off into the distance with a fond look in your eyes. You feel the end of the game of 20 questions as you see him chew on his bottom lip from your peripheral. “Dude was insatiable. Managed girls’ basketball and looked damn good doing it.”

“I managed girls’ soccer,” he says simply, uncrossing his legs. “My girlfriend was goalie.”

“How long did you guys date?” You fold your legs up underneath you, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. You feel the most sober now out of all tonight.

“Dunno.” He sips at his cider. “Couple weeks maybe?”

You smirk. “Karl Jacobs puts out in the first couple weeks?” That’s hot, you don’t say. He gives you a look. “18 year old Karl was a player,” you tease, leaning forward to poke at his chest.

Smacking your hand away, he sighs and lifts a hand to tousle his hair.

“Guess he was.” Clear eyes meet yours and you take a hit from the pen that lays discarded in your palm. He watches the smoke float from your mouth. The TV screen swipes to Deceptacon and the mood quickly shifts. “So.” He turns toward you with lifted eyebrows. “You were a total nerd in highschool, huh.”

Your jaw drops. “I was not!”

“Come on; yes, you were.” He makes a face and drains half the bottle of cider. “You probably were in SpellBowl and every teacher’s pet.”

“Nice try, bitch. You were a dumb jock. I’ve seen the pictures. The yearbook pictures.” You look pointedly at his hair.

“My hair was not that bad.”

“Yes it was.”

“No, it wasn’t,” he grumbles and pushes his hand through his long curls. “Just a little… short.” It’s your turn to make a face.

“A buzz cut nearly to your scalp is more than short.” He huffs at you and finishes the cider just as the song switches. “Anyways.” You don’t really have anything to say, actually. Too busy thinking about teenage Karl smacking tennis rackets around and fielding lost soccer balls for his girlfriend. She’s long gone, right?

“Are you wearing lingerie?” Karl asks suddenly and you look up. He stares pointedly at your chest and you move a hand to pat at your stomach.

“Oh,” you start, and flick the last three buttons open, fabric falling to reveal a baby blue lace corset. “Yeah.” He can’t seem to stop imagining what’s underneath it. Fuck. “Do you like it?” The tone in your voice is taunting and he has to look away.

He clears his throat and places the second glass bottle onto the coffee table.

“Yes.”

You rise onto your knees and pull your arms out of the button-up, letting it fall back on the couch.

“Do you want to touch it?” You're looking up at him from underneath your eyelashes, he realizes, and you know exactly what you’re doing. You’re not asking if he wants to touch the corset; you’re asking if he wants to touch you.

“Can I?” He glances at you warily. You just nod, and it’s then that you’re shuffling forward. The material is soft on his fingertips when he brushes a hand across your torso. “Silk,” he mumbles, and stares, transfixed, at the loopy flower pattern crawling across your waist in shades of milky blue. You just hum and watch. He realizes suddenly when he traces a finger up on the ridge of the neckline that you’re not wearing anything underneath it. It makes him stop in his tracks, neck flushing. “Are-are you—,”

“Wearing a bra? No, I’m not.” You lay a hand on his shoulder, hoisting one leg over his thighs and settling down comfortable on his lap. He bristles then relaxes as you slide a hand up into his scalp. “Do you want me to show you?”

He glares at you, barely annoyed, and shifts so that his large hands rest in the curve of your waist. Poison starts in the speakers as his eyebrow raises.

“Do you normally wear corsets when we all hang out?” A lock of your hair moves past your cheek as he brushes it out of the way. His mouth tilts into a smirk. You seem to think about it, lips pursed, and grip both his shoulders in your hands.

“Only when I’ve got someone to impress.” A hand on your lower back presses insistently and you fall further into his lap.

“Who are you here to impress, Y/N?” He’s barely an inch from your mouth now, and can’t seem to keep his eyes on one part of your face. Cool breath fans onto your cheeks and they warm. God, he’s even cuter up close.

“You,” barely passes your lips before he’s taking the side of your neck into his hand and stretching to connect your lips with his own.

Cherry, you think. Cherry chapstick, that cheeky bastard. Taking your wrist in his hand, he loops it up and around his neck. You’re making a noise into his mouth, you realize, right as he’s sliding a hand down to the side of your thigh and gripping it between his long fingers. You shiver as he pulls away too soon, pressing a small kiss to the corner of your mouth before sinking his teeth into your neck. The gasp that leaves your mouth is surprisingly loud and your cheeks flush further. He just hums, pleased, and stretches an arm to the opposite side of your waist to hug you closer. Warm lips move on the skin of your neck and his tongue darts out few and far between the kisses.

“Fuck,” he breathes when your hips jerk forward once.

“Sorry,” you whisper up at the ceiling, eyes falling shut. “reflex.”

He grins against your neck and moves to grip an ass cheek in his palm.

“Your reflex to me licking a hickey is to grind into my crotch?” he teases. You just have to nod, lips parted, as he soothes another bruise with his tongue.

“Karl.” He seems to either not hear you or ignore you for he’s removing himself from your neck and connecting your mouths once more. “Karl,” you stutter between kisses, and he squeezes at your ass.

“Yes?” His lips are bitten and puffy when he pulls away, a smug look on his beautiful face.

“Take off my corset.”

He looks between your face and the lingerie, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Don’t mind if I do.”

-

A/N: ask or send me some stuff!! requests, rants, anything. :D comment what you think !