#and I think I appeared safe to a couple of people

[dangermousie]

Something that struck me extra on this LLTG rewatch - how subtle yet unmistakable the narrative is about the fact that being sheltered and spoiled as a woman is a recipe for disaster.

NN, ill-educated STEM feral child, gets how important marriage partner choice is more than all the rest of them, properly brought up in womanly virtues.

No, I don't mean she yearns for true love (she gets it, eventually, but that is not what she hopes or looks for) - but what she gets and a lot of the rest of the young women we see do not, is that you want a husband you can like and get along with, who can let you be yourself (and who is also acceptable socially because she's pragmatic.)

That is why her first choice, until it's OBE, is Yao - he's sweet and he's a friend and she knows she'd be the boss in that marriage. All the ladies in the capital swoon for Ling Buyi but she is never consciously swayed. She doesn't realize he likes her and she's not someone to build fantasies/pine for someone she can't have (in a way, knowing the man likes her is a necessary precondition for her to be even able to open her heart - she's spent too much of her childhood fruitlessly yearning for familial love to want to repeat that in her marriage.) Yao openly adores her so this allows her to consider him as a partner (that is why Scholar dude never had a chance btw, his courtship style is negging and NN is the last person that would work for.)

In fact, even after she knows Ling Buyi likes her, she is NOT excited to marry him because she doesn't want someone too high a status compared to her and someone as strong-willed as him because what she sees, and a lot of the rest of women looking for husbands in this story do not, that if there is a huge status disparity and a man is used to getting his own way, there is a risk of having yourself subsumed. A lot of the latter half is the two awkward, scarred by various trauma young people navigating boundaries of their relationship and what is OK for them and what is not (Ling Buyi IS used to barking orders, NN is overly defensive about even the slightest suggestions - they eventually meet in the middle and it's lovely but it's even more lovely that the drama shows it takes work and conversations and compromises.)

The thing that she gets, perhaps because she's a pragmatic survivor, is how the choice of a husband is the most important thing for a woman in that society. Her life fully depends on that, even more than of e.g., an Austen heroine, because in addition to those hurdles, this is a polygamous society (so how many other women brought in and how husband treats the legal wife versus concubines etc also is an issue) AND a society where if your husband goes down, you and your kids will be executed/enslaved along with him. We see how badly wrong marriages can go - Yao's eventual wife's first marriage is a great example, where she marries a man who abuses her and kills her family. Or even that one woman who marries a general who dotes on her and is a great husband, but commits treason and is executed (and she's only spared by the grace of the emperor.)

And the fact that all those women swoon for Ling Buyi and want to marry him SHOWS how the sheltered/spoiled thing has fucked them up. Remember princess whatever? She is dead set on marrying Ling Buyi and it's insane to me. Yes, he's good-looking and quasi-son of the emperor who dotes on him (since it's safe to do so, he's outside the dynastic fight) but that's great for about three minutes and boasting at parties. She is so sheltered from reality, she does not think what it would be like to be married to him. I don't mean his revenge quest since nobody knows. I mean if he was exactly who he appears with no other goals. Ling Buyi dislikes her and makes it known. He's rude to her (he's rude in general. Hell, he's rude to his parental family, openly! And emperor lets him get away with it), he clearly looks down on her and at a couple of points he genuinely threatens her and her family with murder. He's not charming or gentle or considerate. THIS IS NOT A MAN YOU WANT TO MARRY OMG!!! It has clearly not occurred to her to think past being carried into this house, envy of all her girlfriends - day in, day out with a rude, violent man who is the emperor's favorite (so you can't really seek help from your family if he doesn't treat you well), who dislikes you and who is entitled to take other wives.

Anyway, I love NN and her pragmatic mind and that she makes Ling Buyi EARN her consent and her loyalty and her love. (But then she is ride or die for him, isn't she?)

#cdrama #love like the galaxy

[bonzos-number-1-fan]

TMAGP 13 Thoughts: Phone Bug

A big episodes for small reasons. Not much world-shaking happened but just enough was said about just the right things. A lot to get into in this one around the incident. We're starting to have the curtain pulled back. Just a crack right now, but that's just more reason to be cracked.

Spoilers for episode 13, and all of TMA, below the cut.

Not a huge amount to touch on in the date portion of the episode other than a couple of sentences. Yeah, Sam is a gifted burn out that's sad about not getting experimented on. Same old same old. But Celia has a baby. Jack being Celia's kid I wasn't expecting mostly because of how that figures into her timeline. She's very heavily implied to be TMA's Celia but based on what she said if she is then she's been in TMP's universe for at least 4 years. A "couple of wild years" and Jack's "just over a year old". Plus 9 months and it's a lot longer than it might've appeared. None of that stuff tripped Freddy's possible lie detector either that I heard.

If you work under the assumption that the voices are who most people think, and they started roughly when they arrived, then that's a fairly major time discrepancy. The voices are about a year old but Celia has been around for 4.

However, it doesn't strictly rule that out either. Firstly, we know that moving between universes isn't actually one-to-one time-wise. Anya Villette went backwards 2 weeks when she crossed over. So them arriving at different times could support the idea that she's TMA's Celia further. Her general explanation of events could also be explained by this too. If she's not there willingly, or is there willingly but it didn't quite go to plan, a couple of wild years while you get your footing in a world you don't belong to isn't far fetched. If she was there looking for the voices then her showing up so relatively late could be explained by her baby too. So it's certainly not a dead and buried theory yet.

While Jack isn't Jack Barnabas he and the voices are about the same age. If people want to go rabid over that.

Gwen and Lena's little chat has a similar amount to really dig into. It's nice to see Gwen dealing with it all, and it's annoying we still don't know who died, but Lena does have a lot to say in a few words.

The world is full of opposing forces, some benevolent, most not. In order for the wheels to keep on turning, all these forces need to be monitored and balanced. That is where we come in.

This probably the most information we've had on the OIAR to this point from the show itself. I think most of this was safely assumed before this point. They've been doing a lot of monitoring, categorisation, and the only responses we have seen have been tamping major spikes down. A world of opposing forces is also a given. We are being led to believe that these are analogous to the 14+1 but there being benevolent ones if that's true is a big mix up. If you take the above timeline idea a step further and say the 14+1 arrived much earlier (or it doesn't matter because of how they're temporally weird) the benevolent ones could be native to TMP. They could be all TMP had.

Her assertion that the OIAR is a balance on these forces is interesting. Beyond the obvious stuff it also leans into an idea I've been throwing about regarding Starkwall. In the perception of Starwall might not really be the whole picture. The San Pedro Square massacre could've been an easy scapegoat to pin on them for the OIAR to split with them. A split caused by a disagreement in ethics. Starkwall thus far hasn't been shown to have an incredible disregard for human life based on Ep 7. The OIAR definitely has been. It could just be a PR move because the massacre was too big to contain but that feels like the least interesting way to handle this. A faction that's all in on monster hit men splitting with a faction who is against it has more room for interesting drama and worldbuilding IMO.

Balance was also a very large aspect of TMA in the end. The OIAR working towards that balance isn't as noble a goal as it might sound. Or it at least has the potential to be an incredibly misguided goal.

Okay, with all that mostly out of the way onto the incident itself. I enjoy this one a fair bit. Very different to what's come before it but with another recurring theme. We're starting to see a couple of patterns emerge now although it's too early to start naming things. I don't think there is a lot to really get into but this one was written by Alex, had a new VA, and was a recurring idea. Which does all point to this being quite important as these things go. All the episodes will likely tie up quite nicely in the end but this one seems quite relevant currently. In any case this was a fun one and I'm kinda curious how some of the elements within it will tie together. Mainly the gambling and insects.

Also, super weird they went with Zorrotrade for this. Because that's a real thing. Or was a real thing? It might be dead now, but still.

Post-incident chat has nothing I really want to comment on. More Alice and Sam is always good, even if Alice is trying really hard to not seem very upset.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Incident/CAT#R#DPHW Master Sheet

DPHW Theory: 4622 doesn't seem particularly noteworthy. It's interesting from a thematic angle how this differs from Rolling With It. Both obviously very linked to gambling but this one lacks the compulsion elements. Which is a good indicator that H is linked to that sort of thing. Not that I need to convince myself of that further.

CAT# Theory: 3. Insert screams et cetera, et cetera. More seriously there still isn't a convincing pattern to this. Although I might be swinging back to my original tria prima and/or triple deity interpretation.

R# Theory: B is where I was thinking it'd end up while listening. So that's nice. Not much to add to this. Much like with DPHW the more information that lines up with the theory the less there is to talk about it because I've already done the hard bit.

Header talk: Gambling (Application) -/- Murder. Other than Application being a pretty weird Subsection I'm not sure there is much to dig into here. Although it does likely confirm he's dead. Which does make it a little strange that his statement wasn't read by one of the Freddy lot.

#the magnus protocol #tmagp #tmagp theory #tmagp speculation #klaus = kl4-u5

[secondbeatsongs]

I want to be safe

and I don't mean "safe from physical and mental harm" (although that would be nice), I mean...I want to be safe.

I want anyone who sees me to know that it's okay to stand next to me, or talk to me, or ask for my help with something.

I want anyone who knows me to see that I won't judge them, won't act harshly towards them when they're feeling vulnerable.

I want to radiate all of the kindness and validation that I never had; I want to encourage and comfort and share, and I want people to see in me something that makes them feel...safe.

I just want to be safe

#personal #sbs rambles #queer #queer stuff #some thoughts after today #it was a long day #and I think I appeared safe to a couple of people #and it was good #I never had that kind of safety as a kid #you know? #but if I can be that for someone #if I can be safe #safe to know #safe to talk to #I think maybe that can be good #for me and for others #also. being visibly queer. that's part of this #I want to be weird and messed up in a way that makes it so people like me understand #and it's a process. and it's hard to be me when what I am isn't palatable to society at large #but god I want it #I want so desperately to be weird

[inkskinned]

what is with men being mad any time a woman raises her voice where did that even come from. someone posted a video of a small electrical explosion, and the top comment was of course the woman screams. the second comment is women try not to scream challenge, level impossible. i had to go back and watch the video again. there is, somewhat fainty, a little gasp emitted off-camera, more of a yelp than a scream. it is mostly lost in the crack of the explosion. afterwards, you hear her voice, shaken, say, are you okay?

i am helping one of my friends train her voice pitch lower, because she wants to be taken seriously at work. she and i do each other's nails and talk about gender roles; and how - due to our appearance - neither of us have ever been able to be "hysterical" in public. we both appear young and sweet and feminine. she is cisgender, and cannot use her natural voice in her profession because people keep saying she appears to be "vapid". we both try to figure out if our purposeful voice lowering is technically sexist. is it promoting something when you are a victim to it?

a storm almost sends a pole through a car window. in the dashcam, you can hear the woman passenger say her partner's name twice, crying out in alarm. she sounds terrified. in the comments, she is lambasted for her lack of calm. how is that even fucking helping?

in high school, i taught myself to have a lower voice. i had been recorded when i was genuinely (and righteously) upset; and i hated how my voice sounded on the phone speakers when it was played back. i was defending my mom, and my voice cracked with emotion. it meant i was no longer winning the argument: i was just shrieking about it.

girls meet each other after a long summer and let out a little joyful scream. this usually stops around 12-14, because people will not tolerate this display of affection (as it has the effect of being passingly annoying). something about the fact that little girls can't ever even be annoying. we are trained to examine each part of our lives (even joy) for anything that could make us upsetting and disgusting. they act like teenage girls are breaking into houses and shrieking you awake at 3 in the morning. speaking as a public school educator: trust me, it's not that bad, you can just roll your eyes and move on. it does not compare to the ways boys end up being annoying: slurs in graffiti, purposefully mocking your body, following you after you said no. you know, just boy things.

there's another video of a man who is not allowed to yell in the house, so he snaps his fingers when he's excited about soccer. the comments are full of angry men, talking about how their brother is unfairly caged. let him express himself and this is terrible to do to someone. eventually the couple has to address it in a second video: they are married with a newborn baby. he was trying not to wake the infant up. there is no comment on the fact women are not allowed to yell indoors. or the fact that it could have been really alarming or triggering for his wife. sometimes i wonder if straight men even like women, if they even enjoy being in relationships with them.

for the longest time, i hated roller coasters because it always felt inappropriate and uncomfortable for me to scream. one of my friends called me on it, said it was unusual i'm so unwilling. i had to go to my therapist about it. i don't like to scream because i was not raised in a safe situation, and raising my voice would have brought unsafe attention towards me. even when i am supposed to scream, it feels shameful, guilty. i was not treated kindly, so i lack a basic form of self-protection. this is not a natural response. it is not good that in a situation of high adrenaline - i shut up about it.

something very bad is happening, i think. in between all the beauty standards and the stuff i've already discussed - this one feels new and cruel in a way i can't quite express. yes, it's scary and silencing. but there's something about how direct it is - that so many men agree with the sentiment that women should never yell, even in an emergency - it feels different.

is the word shriek gendered automatically? how about shrill or screech? in self defense class, one of the first things they tell you is to yell, as loud and as shrilly as you can. they say it will feel rude. most women will not do this. you need to practice overcoming the social pressure and just scream.

most women do not cry out, even when it's bad. we do not report it. we walk faster. we do not make a scene. what would be the point of doing anything else? no matter what we do, we don't get taken seriously. it is a joke to them. an instagram caption punchline. we have to present ourselves as silent, beautiful, captivating - "valuable."

a woman is outside watching her kids when someone throws a firecracker at them. she screams and runs towards her children. in the comments, grown men flock together in the thousands: god. women are so annoying.

#warm up #writeblr #this one has bothered me for a bit #any time a woman does something even passingly annoying we treat it like a fucking crime #hey man. women are allowed to be annoying. everyone forever is allowed to be passingly annoying #as long as they aren't hurting anyone/thing #like u wanna know something? i find it super annoying that men don't wear seatbelts #why arent there thousands of comments on driving videos thats just like : men try not to die in a car crash challenge #''this briefly annoyed me''. okay??????? AND????????????????? go get ur self a cookie and calm down about it #ur not entitled to control other ppl's experiences and emotions just so u can maintain ur own peace #if being briefly annoyed ruins ur whole day! you! need! therapy!!!! #men try not to become immediately angry about nothing challenge: level impossible #ps author is nonbinary. we didn't even get into the gender presentation thing #the fact men think it's SEXY that my voice is on the lower end....

[messylustt]

can i pleaseee request a dark!ghostface!ethan landry x reader where the reader doesn’t know ethan is ghostface and she looses him at a party so she stumbles around tipsy trying to find him calling out his name when suddenly someone dressed as ghost face approaches and starts walking beside her making very sketchy and personal questions (its ethan but obviously reader doesn’t know 🙄) ultimately leading to a chase and she gets home thinking shes safe and suddenly he ambushes reader and ‘spice occurs’ (idk) and then shes like “no! i need ethan!” and he gets …turned on… and asks about himself iykwim . pls base it off of that 😭

holy shit i love this … ethan’s gonna feel so fucking smug about reader needing him heh

tell me more — ethan landry + reader ( scream ) : being attacked by ghostface leads to strange questions about ethan. ethan being behind the mask grows more and more turned on the more you say.

contents : just filthy, slight dub con, unprotected sex. wc 2.9k

You down another red solo cup. But as no more liquid falls down your throat, your brows begin to furrow. You pull the cup away to see no more alcohol sloshing inside.

“Ethan,” you turn. “Can you get me another—”

You stop, not seeing the curly haired boy behind you. You spin. Or beside you. “Ethan?” You call, your tone tipsy, over the rowdy students, all enjoying the party.

You step, but sway as you grab the wall. A giggle escapes you as you nearly knock shoulders with a passing couple. “Sorry.”

You go back to looking for Ethan, who had been by your side the entire party up till now. “Ethan?” You drag out the syllables as you squint your eyes. “Where are you?” You mutter under your breath.

“Y/n?”

You spin, seeing Chad. “Chad!” You exclaim. “Have you seen Ethan?”

Chad chuckles at your slightly slurring words. You put your hands on your hips, as you wait for his response.

Chad shakes his head. “Last I saw, he was with you.”

You sigh, turning back to stare through the house party.

“You alright?” Chad asks. You nod in response.

“I’m fine, you go…go back to…whatever you were doing.” You walk away, gazing around.

“Ethan—oh.” You bump into someone, and as you glance up to apologise you pause, seeing the white face of Ghostface.

You narrow your eyes, stepping back, swaying a fraction. “Excuse me.” You say, walking past them.

As you try to continue your search, you feel a presence beside you. Glancing to your left, you see Ghostface, black cloak and all, walking alongside you. “What— who are you? You know, its not a great costume.” You continue slowly walking through the crowd.

“Is it not?” The baritone voice of Ghostface asks.

“Hey!” You slightly slur. “Where did you find one of those modulators? I’ve been trying to find one.” You pause. “To try it out, not because…I uh, kill people. I don’t kill people.”

Your blurting out anything on your mind, and Ghostface just tilts he head as he observe you.

“You know, you could have been more original. Everyone dresses up…as Ghostface.” You say, slightly poking his chest.

“And how do you know I’m dressing up?”

You pause. “Well…” you blink, trying to screw your head on straighter.

“How do you know I’m not the real Ghostface.” He whispers, the low voice sending shivers down your spine.

“Uh…your at a house party?” As if that would prove your point.

“You don’t think Ghostface goes to house parties?”

“I mean not to party,” you say, slightly growing wearier. “…obviously.”

“Is that what you do—party?” Ghostface asks.

“Of course!” You say, stumbling a bit. “I always go to parties. Usually with—oh!” You exclaim, glancing around.

“Have you seen a boy with curly brown hair, and a cute smile?” You ask Ghostface.

“What’s his name?”

“Ethan.” You nod, squinting your gaze on the crowd again. “He disappeared.”

“A cute smile?” Ghostface inquires.

“Yes.” You wave your hand dismissively. “Now get looking.”

You walk farther into the hallway, where it appears quieter and darker, away from the fluorescent lights. “Ethan?”

Then you feel a breath by your ear. “You seem desperate.”

You spin, seeing Ghostface. “Don’t do that, your making me think your actually a creepy killer.” You whisper. Alcohol still buzzed in your system, but you could feel it begin to ebb away as you stared at the silent, eerie figure.

“Mr. Ghostface?” You ask, since they hadn’t answered you. “Or Mrs.”

You then see something glint against the hanging hallway light. Something metal, in Ghostfaces grip.

“What—” you cut yourself off, staring at it. The threat suddenly clicks in your brain, as you whip your gaze back up to Ghostface’s mask. He begins to step closer, and you stumble slightly back.

You look around and realise how alone you are. Ghostface is blocking the way back to the party. You glance behind you and see the front door. Without thinking, you run to it, turning the handle and rushing outside.

This house was thankfully not a far walk from your apartment. And as you glance back to see Ghostface following you, you hurry your steps.

Your growing soberer by the second, as the cold air hits your face, and the looming danger of getting stabbed makes your pulse quicken. You can hear steps pick up behind you, making you hurry yours in turn.

You’re soon nearing your apartment, and wondering why Ghostface hasn’t caught you yet, you weren’t that much of a fast runner. Was it genuinely some joke?

You spare a glance behind you to see no one. You don’t slow though. Carrying up to your door, whipping it open and locking it.

You breathe heavy as you back up into your apartment, switching the lights on. “Fuck, that better have been a joke.” You mutter, feeling almost stupid for freaking out.

“I’m afraid it wasn’t.” The low voice makes you spin. There stands Ghostface in your kitchen, the signature tilt to his head.

You should have grabbed a knife. You rush farther into your apartment as you try to reach for a room, but Ghostface is quick to intercept, grabbing you and yanking you towards him.

You scream, trying to get out of his grip. “Shh.” He whispers against your ear, as your back presses against his front.

“No, get the fuck off me!” You exclaim harshly.

“Did you end up finding your friend?”

“You know that I didn’t.” You hiss back, as you continue to struggle.

Ghostface chuckles, right by your ear. His grip wraps around you, one of his hands on your stomach, as he stands flush against you.

You gulp. Ethan, god, you hope he was okay. “You didn’t—”

“Didn’t what?”

“Hurt my friend.”

Behind the mask Ethan’s grin is growing. He had wanted a little fun, and seeing you scared and running gave him a rush, one that went straight to his dick. You seemed so concerned for you “friend”. Your cute little question on if he hurt…well…himself, made this all the more enjoyable.

“You seem, so concerned.” He probes. The feeling of you against him, has his voice dropping, even deeper than the modulator originally is, as his sentence husks out.

“Of course I’m concerned.” You say, trying to keep your fear from being prominent in your voice. “I wouldn’t want him hurt, or worse killed.”

Ethan’s gloved hand spreads wider across your stomach, keeping you from running away. He rests his chin on your shoulder, making you stiffen. “Ethan, right?”

You gulp. “Yes. Please don’t hurt my friends, don’t hurt him.”

Ethan is growing more turned on, by your tone of worry. You cared so much for him, and Ethan could tell. Fuck, he liked you like this. He wanted to know more.

“You care about him, don’t you?”

“Yes.” You say, very aware of the knife still in his grasp.

“How much?” Ethan hisses.

“A-a lot.”

“Oh? Why do you care about him—a lot?”

“He’s always been a good friend.” You say, your breathing mismatched.

“Is that all?”

“No. He’s also quite cute.” Your spewing answers in hopes that Ghostface won’t kill you. But you know how foolish that notion is.

“Is he? What’s cute about him?” Ethan asks, licking his lips.

“His uh, face.”

“That’s a bit generic.”

“Also his hands, I like his hands.” In response Ethan, drags his hand lower down your stomach making you slightly arch into him. Your wearing a pretty little skirt, that him as Ethan couldn’t look at for too long. But him as Ghostface could do whatever he wants.

“Why?” God, Ethan was getting hard. Being this close to you, and hearing your praising words is sending heat through him.

“Um, their big and…I like how they feel.”

Fuck, Ethan is breathing hard. He pulls you closer to him, making you gasp. “What else?”

“H-he um.” You gulp. “His hair. I like his hair. I always want to run my fingers through it.”

“Why don’t you?”

“Because that would be weird.” You two were friends, you felt it would cross that line. Though as you begin think about all these things about him, your starting to feel butterflies slowly swarm your stomach. Did you “like like” Ethan?

“I don’t think so. It’s a friendly thing to do.”

You hold back a scoff. “I’m not taking any sort of advice from you.”

Ghostface—Ethan—chuckles. “But I’m being honest. I’m sure he’d love if you ran your pretty fingers through his hair. Maybe he might slide his hand to rest on your thigh.” Ethan slowly brings his hand further down your body, to stop on your thigh, your skirt slightly scrunching up.

You shudder at the shift. Fear and adrenaline coursing through you. “No. He wouldn’t do that.”

“You sound so sure.” Wouldn’t do that?—Ethan thinks to himself. No. He’d do a lot more. He has the urge to track back up your thigh, this time under your skirt. But he wants to drag this out a little longer.

“Let’s say he did do that. How would you react?”

“Why are you asking me this—”

His grip hardens on your thigh making you shut up.

You gulp. “I would probably move closer. To reach his hair better.”

“And how would you feel?”

“I would feel…hot.”

“Where?”

“What?” Your mind is running wild as thoughts of Ethan swarm your brain.

“Where would you feel hot?” Fuck, Ethan was growing agitated. He could feel his cock throb. The pressure of his pants made sure you didn’t feel him through the long cloak.

“Um.” Your voice shakes a fraction. “In my…stomach.”

“Here?” Ethan wanders back to your stomach and taps his fingers against the material if your top.

“Y-yes.”

“Are you sure?” Ethan’s gloved hand goes lower, making your breath hitch. “Not here?” It’s a ghost of a touch. But you feel it, his finger brushing across your clothed pussy. You shudder against him. You were hot. Exactly where he said.

“Do you know how Ethan would feel?” Ghostface—Ethan—asks.

“No.”

“He would feel desperate.” Ethan’s voice comes off breathy through the modulator. “So, desperate.”

You shudder at the thought, even more so as Ghostface brings his hand under your shirt, still staying by your stomach.

“Do you like Ethan?” Ethan could tell you felt something for him, but if you were in denial than you wouldn’t make a move. But now with this information he doesn’t mind stepping up. Cause he really did want to feel your hands running through his hair.

“I—” you breath.

“Yes?” Ethan eagerly asks.

“A…little bit. Yeah. Yeah, I kind of do.”

Ethan grins behind the mask, as his grip tightens around you. You fit against him so nicely.

“Well, what a lucky guy.” He almost chuckles to himself.

“Are you going to stab me?” You finally ask. What was with all this talking? You should be dead.

“Do you think I will?”

You don’t hesitate. “Yes.”

“But I want to hear more about your crush.”

“Why?”

“Does it matter?”

“…yes.”

Ethan holds back a groan of slight annoyance. “I want to know what you’d let him to do you.”

You blanch. “W-what?”

“I want to know where you’d let him touch you.”

Your suffocating on air. “Would you let him touch here?” He brushes away your hair with his knife to reach your neck, making you shiver. “Would you?”

“I’d…like that.”

Ethan holds back a moan at you letting him—wanting him to touch you.

“Where else?” Ethan continues. “Here?” He grazes down your chest, just above your breasts.

“P-probably.”

“Mmm.” Ethan lowly hums as his gloved hand travels down the top covered valley between your breasts, skirting over your bra.

Your immobile, because there’s a tension growing between your legs, that is making you concerned for your mental health. Ghostface was touching you—almost touching you and you were feeling hot.

Ethan glides his hand all the way until he reached the edge of your skirt, pausing. You gulp, holding down a whine as you press your thighs together. What the hell was wrong with you?

“Would you let him touch here?” He harshly breathes out, as grabs your pussy, making you jolt. He’s touching your panties, hand under your skirt, as he begins to rub. “Yeah? You’d want him to touch you here?”

Your breathing is choppy as he continues to rub up and down, going harder over your clit, making you shudder.

Ethan then wraps his other arm across your chest, bringing you impossibly closer, as he listens to you trying to hide your whimpers. Fuck, you sounded so pretty. Slowly falling apart in his arms.

He was rock hard, and growing desperate. Feeling your pussy over your panties was quickly not enough, as he slips past them, his gloved fingers reaching your wetness. Ethan grins. You were soaked. All for him and his game.

“Are you wet for Ethan or me?” Ethan holds back chuckling at the fact that there’s not a wrong answer.

“E-Ethan.”

But he certainly liked that answer a little better. “You just want to feel his big hands fingering you, don’t you?”

“Oh— fuck.” You choke as he pushes a single finger inside you.

Ethan keeps his other arm across you, his knife loosely in his grip. He keeps wanting to pull you closer, so that your ass completely pressed against his throbbing cock. He had to feel more of you.

He adds another finger as a whimper escapes your lips, making Ethan smile. “That’s right.” He whisper-hisses. “I bet you’ve dreamt of him.”

“Uh huh.” You manage as he thrusts his fingers repeatedly into you.

“Your so cute having little dreams about Ethan. I’m sure you touched yourself. Having woken up horny,and needy.”

“S-shit.” You stutter as his fingers pick up pace, thrusting in and out, in and out. The glove material inside you feels foreign but oh so, good.

“You need him, don’t you.” Ghostface says to your ear. “Don’t you?” Ethan has grown incredibly desperate, as the thought of you wanting him—needing him feels like an orgasm in itself.

“I do.” Your head falls slightly back as pleasure rocks through you. “Ethan…” You moan out.

Ethan finally cracks, pushing you against the wall, as he discarded his knife. He presses himself into you as he finally feels his clothed dick press against your sensitive pussy. You jolt as you feel him, his hands wandering your body, cupping your breasts under you shirt.

“Holy shit.” Ethan breathes as his mask grows hot. He wanted to kiss you. Is it worth taking off the mask?

In response to his silent question to himself, he pulls his mask off, tossing it aside as he stays pressed to you.

You watch as Ethan’s signature curls come into view. Your mouth hangs open in shock. Both at him as Ghostface and at what you had revealed. You had said so much about him, about how wet you were for him.

Your eyes are blown wide and Ethan can’t hold back anymore, smashing his lips against yours. You gasp through the kiss as Ethan plays with your tongue, lapping at your mouth as he moans.

“Ethan…” you manage to say as he unclips your bra, yanking it away. “I didn’t know it was you.” He’s kissing your neck, biting at the sensitive skin, as he begins to grind into you.

He licks your neck making a shiver run down your spine. “I didn’t know you thought of me like that.” Ethan kisses you again, as your head hits back against the wall. He licks your top lip. “You should have told me.”

“I didn’t— I wasn’t sure…if—”

“I felt the same?” Ethan guesses as he brings his hand around your thigh, pulling your leg up to wrap around him. He rips your panties clean off as you gasp. Your skirt is bunched up by your hips. “Well, now you know I really fucking do.”

Ethan reaches for his belt with his other hand, under his cloak. Pushing the dark material aside he brings out his cock, extremely hard and ready.

He pushes the tip into you as your fingers reach for his hair.

“I told you.” Ethan breathes against your open mouth. He pushes further into you as you choke a moan. “I’d love it if your fingers were through my hair. And look,” Ethan pauses to grip your thigh tighter, pulling you closer, as he sinks completely into you. “My hand is on your thigh.”

He thrusts into you, his mouth beginning to open over your own, you both panting as your bodies clash.

“Oh—f-fuck. You feel so…” he can’t even finish his sentence as he continues to thrust, his dick filling you up, as you grow more and more dazed.

“You looked so fucking cute wandering around looking for me.” Ethan says between thrusts. “So. Fucking. Cute.” He moans before kissing you. Both your tongues meet each other sloppily, as the thrusting becomes the same.

Pleasure is through your entire body, as ethan grabs at your waist, fingers digging into your skin. You felt and smelt so nice. “Christ, y/n.”

He bites your jaw as your highs draw close. “Your always gonna need me.” He now grabs your jaw between his fingers. “You hear me? You won’t need anyone else.” He kisses you hard, before whispering against your lips. “Nobody else. Only me.”

© messylustt.tumblr please don’t steal, copy or translate my work onto other platforms.

#. ( archived ) #the ethan effect #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x y/n #ethan landry oneshot #ethan landry smut #ethan landry x you #ethan landry #jack champion x reader #jack champion smut #jack champion #jack champion x y/n #scream smut #scream #scream 6

[reasonsforhope]

"Chicago’s 82-story Aqua Tower appears to flutter with the wind. Its unusual, undulating facade has made it one of the most unique features of Chicago’s skyline, distinct from the many right-angled glass towers that surround it.

In designing it, the architect Jeanne Gang thought not only about how humans would see it, dancing against the sky, but also how it would look to the birds who fly past. The irregularity of the building’s face allows birds to see it more clearly and avoid fatal collisions. “It’s kind of designed to work for both humans and birds,” she said.

As many as 1 billion birds in the US die in building collisions each year. And Chicago, which sits along the Mississippi Flyway, one of the four major north-south migration routes, is among the riskiest places for birds. This year, at least 1,000 birds died in one day from colliding with a single glass-covered building. In New York, which lies along the Atlantic Flyway, hundreds of species traverse the skyline and tens of thousands die each year.

As awareness grows of the dangers posed by glistening towers and bright lights, architects are starting to reimagine city skylines to design buildings that are both aesthetically daring and bird-safe.

Pictured: Chicago's Aqua Tower was designed with birds in mind.

Some are experimenting with new types of patterned or coated glass that birds can see. Others are rethinking glass towers entirely, experimenting with exteriors that use wood, concrete or steel rods. Blurring lines between the indoors and outdoors, some architects are creating green roofs and facades, inviting birds to nest within the building.

“Many people think about bird-friendly design as yet another limitation on buildings, yet another requirement,” said Dan Piselli, director of sustainability at the New York-based architecture firm FXCollaborative. “But there are so many design-forward buildings that perfectly exemplify that this doesn’t have to limit your design, your freedom.”

How modern buildings put birds in danger

For Deborah Laurel, principal in the firm Prendergast Laurel Architects, the realization came a couple of decades ago. She was up for an award for her firm’s renovation of the Staten Island Children’s Museum when the museum’s director mentioned to her that a number of birds had been crashing into the new addition. “I was horrified,” she said.

She embarked on a frenzy of research to learn more about bird collisions. After several years of investigation, she found there was little in the way of practical tips for architects, and she teamed up with the conservation group NYC Audubon, to develop a bird-safe building guide.

The issue, she discovered, was that technological and architectural advancements over the last half-century had in some ways transformed New York City – and most other US skylines and suburbs – into death traps for birds...

At certain times of day, tall glass towers almost blend into the sky. At other times, windows appear so pristinely clear that they are imperceptible to birds, who might try to fly though them. During the day, trees and greenery reflected on shiny building facades can trick birds, whereas at night, brightly lit buildings can confuse and bewilder them...

Pictured: A green roof on the Javits Convention Center serves as a sanctuary for birds.

The changes that could save avian lives

About a decade ago, Piselli’s firm worked on a half-billion-dollar renovation of New York’s Jacob K Javits Convention Center, a gleaming glass-clad space frame structure that was killing 4,000-5,000 birds a year. “The building was this black Death Star in the urban landscape,” Piselli said.

To make it more bird friendly, FXCollaborative (which was then called FXFowle) reduced the amount of glass and replaced the rest of it with fritted glass, which has a ceramic pattern baked into it. Tiny, textured dots on the glass are barely perceptible to people – but birds can see them. The fritted glass can also help reduce heat from the sun, keeping the building cooler and lowering air conditioning costs. “This became kind of the poster child for bird-friendly design in the last decade,” Piselli said.

The renovation also included a green roof, monitored by the NYC Audubon. The roof now serves as a sanctuary for several species of birds, including a colony of herring gulls. Living roofs have since become popular in New York and other major cities, in an inversion of the decades-long practice of fortifying buildings with anti-bird spikes. In the Netherlands, the facade of the World Wildlife Fund headquarters, a futuristic structure that looks like an undulating blob of mercury, contains nest boxes and spaces for birds and bats to live.

The use of fritted glass has also become more common as a way to save the birds and energy.

Earlier this year, Azadeh Omidfar Sawyer, an assistant professor in building technology in the Carnegie Mellon School of Architecture, working with student researchers, used open-source software to help designers create bespoke, bird-friendly glass patterns. A book of 50 patterns that Sawyer published recently includes intricate geometric lattices and abstract arrays of lines and blobs. “Any architect can pick up this book and choose a pattern they like, or they can customize it,” she said.

Pictured: The fritted glass used in Studio Gang’s expansion of Kresge College at the University of California, Santa Cruz, depicts the animals in the local ecosystem.

Builders have also been experimenting with UV-printed patterns, which are invisible to humans but perceptible to most birds. At night, conservationists and architects are encouraging buildings turn off lights, especially during migration season, when the bright glow of a city skyline can disorient birds.

And architects are increasingly integrating screens or grates that provide shade as well as visibility for birds. The 52-floor New York Times building, for example, uses fritted glass clad with ceramic rods. The spacing between the rods increases toward the top of the building, to give the impression that the building is dissolving into the sky.

Gang’s work has incorporated structures that can also serve as blinds for birders, or perches from which to observe nature. A theater she designed in Glencoe, Illinois, for example, is surrounded by a walking path made of a wood lattice, where visitors can feel like they’re up in the canopy of trees.

Pictured: The Writers Theatre, designed by Studio Gang, includes a walking path encased in wood lattice.

Rejecting the idea of the iridescent, entirely mirrored-glass building, “where you can’t tell the difference between the habitat and the sky”, Gang aims for the opposite. “I always tried to make the buildings more visible with light and shadow and geometry, to have more of a solid presence,” she said.

Gang has been experimenting with adding bird feeders around her own home in an effort to reduce collisions with windows, and she encourages other homeowners to do the same.

“I’ve found that birds slow down and stop at feeders instead of trying to fly through the glass,” she said.

While high-rise buildings and massive urban projects receive the most attention, homes and low-rise buildings account for most bird collision deaths. “The huge challenge is that glass is everywhere.” said Christine Sheppard, who directs the glass collisions program at the American Bird Conservancy (ABC). “It’s hard to know what I know and not cringe when I look at it.”

Tips for improving your own home include using stained glass or patterned decals that can help birds see a window, she said. ABC has compiled a list of window treatments and materials, ranked by how bird-safe they are.

Whether they’re large or small, the challenge of designing buildings that are safe for birds can be “liberating”, said Gang, who has become an avid birdwatcher and now carries a pair of binoculars on her morning jogs. “It gives you another dimension to try to imagine.”"

-via The Guardian, December 27, 2023

#conservation #birds #avian #ornithology #new york city #chicago #united states #architecture #green architecture #conservation biology #construction #sustainability #glass #glass windows #skyscraper #cityscape #buildings #bird conservation #birdwatching #good news #hope #“hey mc why is this post so in depth and full of pics compared to what you usually post” you ask #great question #the answer is bc I like architecture a lot #...well I like the kinds of architecture I like a lot lol #bauhaus can fight me tbh #but sustainable architecture is awesome #also this article actually came with a bunch of pics #which yknow most of them don't #cw animal death

[finelinevogue]

notes on love

summary - harry attends the football and you attend the baftas

pairing - fiance!harry x famous!reader

word count - ~1.5k

*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*

It was the first time Harry had made a public appearance in months.

Sans a hat on his head.

After braving a shave to solidify a new chapter in his life, Harry had decided that enough was enough and he just wanted to be seen again. Gain some new publicity.

“I can’t do this.” Harry’s voice rang through your phone.

Your phone was currently propped up on the vanity in front of you, whilst your stylist gracefully worked around you to get your hair and makeup done.

“H, baby. You’re going to a football match where over half the population there will be white bald men. You’ll blend right in.”

You took a sip of your apple juice in its carton as you suppressed a laugh. Harry rolled his eyes at you, taking the joke like the good sport he is.

“I actually have more hair than them. I’m not bald anymore.”

“See! Embrace the new hair, H. You look really good.”

Harry smiled at you then, his eyes which had previously been darting between watching you and looking out the moving car window were now permanently on you.

“Not as beautiful as you, though, love.”

“Don’t even have my makeup on yet.”

“Never needed it.”

You blew him a camera kiss for those words alone.

“Where are you now?” You reached for a slice of pineapple from the bowl of fruit you’d ordered from room service.

“About five minutes away I think. Are you still in the hotel?”

“Yeah. Don’t need to be ready until 5.”

You were getting ready for the BAFTAS, which Harry had hoped to be there with you for but you’d decided to take your nan as your date instead since she wanted to spend as much time with you as possible.

Harry was more than happy to let Nana, as he liked to call her, be your date to the BAFTAS. Plus, it meant that he could go see the football.

“You’re going to look so pretty.”

Harry had helped your pick out your dress, which was a sophisticated black to contrast the red carpet you’d be walking down. The dress itself was beautifully cut and shaped you in all the right places, making you look elegant and regal.

“I’m nervous.” You picked up your phone so the conversation felt a little more intimate, even though it was still over face-time.

“Why, love?”

“Don’t normally do stuff like this without you.” You pouted.

Harry wished he could kiss that pout away, “And yet the times that you do, you always end up winning! It’s like they never want you to win when i’m there.”

It was a running joke that Harry was your ‘bad luck charm’.

You didn’t believe that though. It’s just that other actors performed better and won, over you, because of it. If anything, you always won because you got to go home and drink hot tea and eat popcorn with your Harry.

“I’ll miss you.” Your face was so close to the camera that Harry could probably see up your nose.

“I miss you. Send me photos when you’re getting ready. I wanna see you before anyone else.”

“Okay.” You smiled. It was routine at this point to always show each other’s public outfits before anyone else.

“Have you got your ring?”

You held up your left hand and wiggled your ring finger in front of the camera. You blushed thinking about the moment that you got given the piece of delicate jewellery, with Harry on one knee.

“Always.”

“You going to wear it on the carpet?”

“Of course. Not going to draw attention to it though. I’ll let people discover it for themselves.”

Harry laughed at the thought. You two were practically the biggest, most A-List, celebrity couple around at the moment and so when people watch sight of you with the ring there’s no doubt it’s all people will talk about for weeks.

Someone told Harry they’d arrived at the venue, then.

“I have to go, honey, but text me updates please. Wanna see you get ready through photos, okay?”

“Okay.” You promised. “Text me to let me know you’re safely home later, please.”

Even though he was going back to his Manchester home, you still liked to know that he was safe and sound. Especially since you were in London and weren’t going to get to be with him tonight.

“Will do. I love you.” Harry kissed his fingers and then dotted them over the camera.

You returned the gesture, “I love you. Bye, bye, bye!”

•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

You were just finishing getting ready and scrolling through Twitter.

Harry was trending worldwide for showcasing his new hair. His growing hair. No one had seen him like this since the end of Tour last year.

You pouted because you missed him a lot.

People were absolutely loving it. As always, a lot of people were losing their shit over Harry content. You were too, because you missed him.

“Oh, he looks so good!” Your stylist, Jamie, gasped behind you.

Jamie was currently fixing your hair and you had to say they had done an impressive job.

“I know.” You smiled to yourself.

“He looks like a sexy CEO.”

You laughed out loud at that, “When he puts on his glasses he does.” You agreed.

“Harry wears glasses?” Jamie gasped.

“Yeah, hang on..”

You started to go through your camera roll. It was only a few days ago that he had gotten new glasses, because he’d managed to lose his old ones. Typical.

You stopped on a photo of Harry sat in bed with the duvet up on his chest, a book in his lap and his glasses on. He didn’t realise you had taken the photo of him, but it was now one of your favourites.

“Oh damn…” Jamie gasped. “If your marriage ever goes south, tell him I’ll be available.”

You laughed again, shaking your head in dismissal but also approval.

You went back to Twitter to see if any of the Harrie accounts you follow have tweeted anything. You make yourself laugh as you look through their feral comments.

And just because you like to cause a riot on the internet you liked an insane tweet.

harriesmiles: the way that this photo makes me want to cling onto harry like a koala bear and never let go

It wasn’t long before you were trending with Harry.

Then the face-time call comes through from him.

“Am I done?” You asked Jamie quickly.

He nods, knowing you routine with Harry, and allows you to slip into the bathroom next to the bedroom.

You answered the call shortly after locking the bathroom door.

“Hellooo.” You said in a weird voice, feeling hyper from the Twitter craze.

“Hi, babe.” Harry was obviously outside and trying to watch where he was going, more than looking at you.

“Has the match finished?”

“Yeah.” And you honestly didn’t care enough about football to ask how it went. “Are you ready?”

Harry’s eyes flicked down to his screen momentarily, smirking when he catches sight of your glammed out makeup.

One thing Harry loved more than anything was you in a red-lip, so of course you had to make sure you had one for him - despite the fact he couldn’t kiss it off you tonight.

“What?” You giggled, watching him trying to suppress his smirk in public.

“You’re so annoying. I’m trying to act all cool and mysterious here and you’re making me smile like an idiot.”

You dipped your head and smiled, accentuating the blush that was already powdered onto your cheeks.

“H, honey, you’re walking through the streets of Manchester. No one cares about how you act. They’re probably all drunk anyways.”

“True, true.”

“Did you have a pint?” You propped your phone on the counter.

“Uh, yeah.” He said whilst trying to cross a road.

“Love, do you want to call me back when you’re at less risk of being hit by a car?” You sarcastically asked.

“No!” He yelped. “No. Needs to be now.”

You gave him a confused look but carried on regardless.

You shuffled back in the bathroom, giving him a full angle.

You watched in anticipation as Harry looked at you through his tiny screen, wishing it were ten times bigger.

“Wow.” Was all he said and you giggled like a girl having a high-school crush. “I love you so much.”

“So you like?” You swished your dress from side to side.

“Mhm. Wishing I wasn’t so far from you now.”

“Tomorrow. I’ll have all the kisses for you then.”

“Tomorrow it is, then.” Harry smirked to himself, kissing the camera.

Little did you know that tomorrow was coming a lot sooner. In fact, Harry had been running for the earliest train out of Manchester and down to London for the duration of the phone call. Because Harry was always going to show up for you.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfic #ask finelinevogue #harry blurb #finelinevogue #harry styles concept #harry oneshot #harry styles blurbs #harry styles fic rec

[stayathome-ts]

Just rambling about pseudomemories for a sec in the tags.

#A bunch of stuff about me and the rest of the team being in the public eye wasn’t fun #there wasn’t *really* any break or anything between our first “official” appearance and everything after that it was just 0 to 100 #but there was some positive stuff and I’m just fondly thinking about that #messing with people was fun when we could get away with it #there were a couple group interviews or whatever that were actually fun #there was one that was a buzzfeed-like interview that was by this one org that wanted to show people that we weren’t always scary #so they brought in a kitten/puppy or five for us to interact with during the individual interviews because that screams safe I guess #that was about two years ago from my pov so like… 2014 or so #Robbie even got a segment and you would not believe the focus he put into not scaring the kittens #the whole thing was sweet but that’s probably the best bright spot in that area

[totalswag]

can i request rafe x fwb reader where reader finds out hes dating sofia and she goes to confront him that he didnt even have the decency to let her know their arrangement was over and he says "who said it was over?''

stuck in the middle - RAFE CAMERON

authors note as you guys may notice i'm finally publishing requests that you guys sent me. super sorry this was very late to publish. i hope you like what i wrote and it was what you hoped. so, thank you for sending this requests.

requests are still open so feel free to send them my way and i will get to them and put them into my docs :) if you click on the bold red ink it will take you to my ask box lovies!!!

summary you find out through people and social media sofia and rafe are together. you go to confront rafe about this since he never thought to tell you that your arrangement was over.

warnings friends with benefits, mentions of sex, cursing

Lately, you've been having this weird gut feeling in your stomach. No idea what the meaning behind it means but you want to find out what it could be. You started feeling this way whenever you were with Rafe on a random Wednesday.

Rafe and you have been friends with benefits for about three months now. When you two came to this agreement, you agreed that it was solely for your sexual pleasures and not to establish feelings for each other, and that the most important thing was to let each other know if one of you became serious with someone else so that the bargain could be broken off.

You overheard a rumor at a party this past Friday about Rafe and Sofia being together for a month. You couldn't believe your ears and wanted to vomit. Sofia works at the island's country club, and Rafe visits it from time to time.

The next day, you decided to do some research to be sure this was accurate. Even as you looked at her Instagram, the emotion returned. You checked her story highlights and discovered what you were looking for. Your stomach sank.

She had a couple pictures on her highlights that you knew were of Rafe, including one with his right hand on her thigh in his car and another with his back to her as he looks out into the distance. Based on what you discovered, they appeared serious.

What made you upset was the fact Rafe and you have been seeing each other for three months which meant he'd been with Sofia for who knows how long before he asked her to be his girlfriend.

"Why didn't he tell me?" You asked yourself, setting down your phone and running your hands through your hair, upset that you found out at random person at a party.

There's a part of you that doesn't want Rafe to be with Sofia. There's a part of you that wants him all to yourself. Regardless, he should've told you the arrangement was over.

That was the deal.

After thinking about what you should do, you decide you are confronting Rafe about this, tonight. You are gonna make it seem like you want to hookup but really you are telling him what you found out.

you- are you busy tonight? i wanna see you

rafe- funny you say that because i wanna see you too

rafe- meet me at the spot at 9pm.

"I'll be back in an hour or so," you tell your mom as you go past the living room, holding your keys. "I'm going to hang out with Samantha."

"That's fine, sweetie; please stay safe tonight, I love you," your mother adds, smiling.

When you get to the spot you see Rafe sitting in his car on his phone. You parked your car next to him so he knows it's you- when he sees you get out, he unlocks the car.

You sigh casually as you sit in the passenger seat.

Rafe says smiling "Hey pretty girl" in a tone that makes you weak in the knees, leaning over the center console to kiss you but you pull back.

"We need to have a little chat, Rafe," maintaining eye contact.

His smile fades, and he looks at you, puzzled, "What do you mean?" His response indicated that he was nervous or knew what was going to happen.

"Why didn't you tell me you and Sofia were together, Rafe? You never once said to my face, "Y/N, we can no longer meet up like this anymore because I have a girlfriend now," mimicking Rafe's voice, "we've been hooking up this entire time while you've been in this relationship that I had no idea about until I heard someone talking about it," you explain frustratedly in your voice and expressions.

In the midst of your rant towards him, he places his hand over his lips, chuckles, shakes his head, and looks down at his lap.

"Why the fuck are you laughing?" You ask, folding your arms, leaning back against the passenger door, annoyed.

He glances up from his lap, licks his bottom lip, and smirks: "Who said it was over?"

Before you could respond his lips were already on yours.

my taglist

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@runningfrom2am @winterrrnight @brooklynscherry-z @kaydsr3venge @johannelis2302nely @chenslucy

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron imagines #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron x you #rafe x reader #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron x kook!reader #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe fic #rafe imagine #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron blurb #drew starkey #drew starkey imagines #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey imagine #totalswagrequest!

[starwrighter]

1/?? Halloween prompt

I’ve got brain rot for creepy Deadserious content but only when it’s only seen as creepy by outsiders. (I know I’m writing a fic with a similar plot but it’s different I swear! Also my grammar is shit because I’m getting dental work done tomorrow and I’m nervous) Tw for stalker behavior

So Damian has a crush on Danny and immediately goes about acting on these feelings much to onlookers horror. Danny is swooning because someone made the effort to do a background check on him. Danny thinks Damian doing this is really smart because, he could be a serial killer for ancients sake why would you risk that? Others say this is a horrible invasion of privacy.

Damian not realizing he's being creepy (being liminal and being an ex assassin, turned vigilante wasn't doing him any favors) Plus Danny also not realizing it's creepy unless you relay Damian behavior towards him with different names.

Damian's just being a textbook stalker, breaking into his house and shit and Danny's all like "awwww he likes me" because this is just normal ghostly courting rituals! His dormroom isn't his lair so Damian breaking in doesn't feel like he's violating any sort of boundary. To him it's like a friend showing up at the coffee shop you work at to say hi.

Danny's had stalkers before, he's very cautious of his behavior to insure he never stalked anyone. Being stalked back in Amity was a horrific experience for him. From cameras in the locker rooms at school (wes) to cameras in his bathroom and bedroom at home (Vlad)! He couldn't feel safe anywhere! To Danny Damian's not a stalker, he's his protector. Nobody seems to understand when he tries to explain this though they just look at him like he's lost his mind.

Damian’s not subtle at all and Danny’s kicking his feet like a lovesick school girl who found out her crush likes her back. Overall it’s super cute from their points of view Damian’s planning an official confession to ask him on a date while Danny’s trying to figure out if Damian actually likes him or is just being nice. They’re just doing normal couple things but people just jump and attack Damian’s character while painting Danny as some kind of brainwashed victim.

The thing is… Danny’s become very good at appearing normal while Damian refuses to pretend to be a bumbling idiot like the rest of his family. He also refuses to dull down his personality for anything other than secret identity reasons. For these reasons since their relationship had become public, Damian had been painted by the media as a creepy possessive boyfriend who threatened Danny into a relationship. This infuriates Danny, the only one doing any kind of possession is him god damn it!

They want to be around each other all the time and that’s normal behavior for ghost/liminal couples! They live much longer than regular humans do they’re like elves, their perceptions of time are messed up. They still spend time apart they still have hobbies and an independent life, people just get hung up on the amount of time they do spend together. It’s normal behavior for them to know mountains of information about each others interests to the point they almost know more than each other. It’s normal to know each other’s schedules and background check the people they associate with. (The realms are very dangerous with shapeshifters and manipulators like spectra and Desiree who can ruin your afterlife in a matter of minutes) Their relationship is creepy to those who haven’t gone to extremes to survive.

Damian has taken to ignoring the reputation press has given him. He’s dealt with paparazzi and tabloids before it’s just frustrating to deal with. It’s when people start accusing him of hurting his beloved that really pisses him off.

(Bonus if Danny’s the one frothing at the mouth to maul a reporter while they try to paint him as a poor innocent victim)

I’mma end the prompt with this so everyone understands why Damian specifically being targeted by press. The more liminal you are the more creepy/uncanny you appear to other people and the more effort you have to put in to hide it. It’s why the bats are more believed to be Eldritch creatures than actual humans in suits. Surprisingly becoming a Halfa completely changes this effect to do the complete opposite. It’s easier for the human brain to look at a halfa and think “Innocent or normal,” Vlad and Danny were morons when it came to actually hiding their identity’s it was only their statuses as halfa’s that prevented people from comprehending them being anything other than normal.

In short Damian’s too dead to be perceived as normal while Danny’s too alive to be perceived as anything other than normal.

#I’m using the more extreme characterizations of Wes and Vlad for this #just so you guys know #when you think of Wes and Vlad think federal prison #tw creepy #tw stalker #this prompt is mostly word vomit #dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #deadserious #dead serious

[talkbycolor]

mushroom oasis headcanons . . . ↷

A/N; im very sensitive about mychael too, oops

Pairing; "Mychael" x GN!Reader

CW; idk alien sex (jk) / this is actually cute, dont worry

Mychael as your boyfriend.

I just know that he likes to listen to ABBA with you and dance in the mornings when making breakfast or at night before going to sleep.

He purrs at bedtime, especially if you pet his hair.

You can caress his horns, they are softer than they look but also sensitive, be delicate

After a while of relationship, he could no longer avoid the growing guilt he felt and told you about the mushrooms in the forest and the brainwashing he did to you at the beginning.

Definitely identifies with Roar's "Christmas Kids" song.

Be thankful he doesn't have an internet connection or he'd make Deez Nuts cringe jokes.

He is the perfect person for fairycore, you have already begged him to do makeup together, even though he didn't need any of that.

He likes to feel safe, silly and childish with you, having learned to take care of himself since… well, always, it was a drain on the soul. what a relief to his heart to be able to be childish with you, like a break.

He still has certain self-esteem problems, his eyes always dilate when you say nice things about him (or when he's about to jump and attack ((kiss you)))

It's not like Mychael is an uncivilized being, but you've taken the time to teach him several things on dates you've had, things that perhaps he didn't know due to his isolation from society.

You're actually a little scared of what could happen if they discover Mychael's existence, so if you live together it will be in the forest.

Sometimes he is selfish and brainwashes you when he wants more kisses or just feels too needy to let you go out with your friends.

For him there is no such thing as breaking up, he will beg you for answers and ask countless times what the problem is or what you want him to change, as a last resort he would brainwash you so that you stay by his side, even if it's like a shell.

"They were 20 and decided to end their life just like this. They went up to the 21st floor and left without saying "goodbye." I wonder if when they were flying through the air they remembered… ..I once told him if you kill yourself I'm gonna kill myself too!" Basically Mychael not being able to continue with his life alone once he meets MC, if you leave, so does he.

The first time you had sex, bro, Mychael almost had to be chained up, he acted like a spoiled kid when he tried his new favorite candy.

Mychael composes songs for MC, he will even try to get new instruments, new talents, anything to entertain his firefly and have them stay in the forest with him.

Is the kind of old-fashioned sculpted lover, don't doubt that you will look like a 60-year-old couple with 3 chickens and a dog, your wish is his command. If you can't go out to eat at an elegant restaurant, he will get a recipe book to prepare the best dishes and put candles on the table. If you don't have new clothes, he will knit what you like. If you don't like the color of the cabin, he will paint everything as many times as necessary.

Physically? Mychael will never hurt you, using guilt as manipulation is not to his liking either, he loves you too much so he will only wash your brain to have a perfect life by your side, don't worry, you are safe from the world and you will have healing caresses every night , even if it is not today, if it is not tomorrow, you will learn to need it on your own and stay at will.

Mychael is terrified of people, the opinion of the masses made him think of himself as a monster and he can't help but blurt out little comments mocking his own appearance. Being with you makes him forget what he is. Why was he surprised? Because you didn't look away.

His saliva is a little salty and something tells me that he produces goo when he is excited, trust me (delulu)

♡

#yandere visual novel #yandere #yandere x reader #headcanons #mychael x reader #mushroom oasis #mushroom oasis vn #mushroom oasis mychael #gn reader #mychael

[woewriting]

𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐄 ──── tara carpenter & fem!detective!reader

── tags. no major warnings, implied sex, this take place after scream vi events.

── word count. 3.049

a/n. this isn't the g!p reader i was talking about, but it has a little "spoiler" for it in the middle of all this, good luck! this one is for you, @wesstars 🫶 | masterlist

“Think you can warm me up?”

The low request came almost unnoticed by you, making you take a step back and look carefully at the ball of blankets on the couch.

Hidden there, under a couple layers of cozy blankets, a small Tara appeared with a red nose.

You smiled softly at the adorable view in front of you.

“I can’t, babe, I have some reports to look at, and it’s getting late.”

She pouted, looking at you with doe eyes that never failed, wide, soft with shining little stars dancing in the brown as she looks at you.

“Please? Just until I fall asleep.”

How could you say no to that?

You fold in the same second, forgetting that you have long pile of files to look at, carefully placing your mug filled with hot coffee on the side table, you took off your slippers and slid under the thick fabric, opening your arms towards the younger one.

Like she always does, Tara threw her legs over yours and hugged your torso, resting her head on your shoulder.

“You know…” you started, pulling her closer to you. “You wouldn’t feel cold if you wore more than just underwear and a tank top.”

“I don’t need to wear clothes; I have you to keep me warm,” Tara said back, looking at you with soft, sleepy eyes.

You smiled fondly, caressing her thigh with your hand. Leaning forward, you placed a kiss on her forehead, admiring the way the corner of her lips slightly tugged up, eyes closed and tip of nose red, the freckles spread on her face like stars in the dark night; Tara was a work of art.

“I love you so much, did you know that?” You whispered close to her lips.

She wrinkled her nose, “I know, but I don’t mind hearing you saying again, and again…”

Stopping her rambling, you pressed your lips on hers, sighing with such familiar taste of cherry of her lip balm. Tara was all soft, and when she was like this, calm and patient under your touch, it made your heart race.

When you first met her, during a rainy night at the police station, the girl could barely sustain your eyes, always avoiding them and fixating on somewhere or something else, like on her older sister, Sam. She came in because some idiots from a frat house were harassing her and her sister following the events from last year. You didn’t know much about the Carpenter’s sister, it was only your first month as a detective in New York, only heard rumors and whispers about it.

You ignored the others eyes on her, taking off your jacket to cover the small body that was trembling, being closely watched by the older Carpenter. Carefully, you placed the brown leather jacket around her shoulders, taking a couple steps back once you did, giving her a safe space.

Tara went home with your jacket that night, and when she brought it back, leaving it at the front desk, 5 days later, a small note was inside the pocket, written in a delicate handwriting, a small “thank you :)”. You smiled, keeping the note inside and going back to work.

The precinct was a place filled with gossips, theories and lies made up to creep you out. Your colleagues — if you could call them that — weren’t the most delightful people to be around, as most of them were men, you felt misplaced, an outcast, even thought you were on a higher level than them, mere police officers with a giant ego. Respect was a word that, apparently, wasn’t taught to them during life. You could count on your fingers the ones that were truly a nice officer and decent human being.

As the days went by, more talking took over the place, annoying ones that always got your rolling your eyes and ignoring them, the Carpenter sister’s being the subject of it 90% of the time, it’s like the big apple only had two young girls living in it and they were the reason to all the chaos that perpetuate in New York.

One day, late at night, you were finishing some reports to call it a day when a familiar voice caught your attention, the short blonde hair and leather jacket automatically bringing a smile on your face. You closed your computer and stood up, grabbing the brown leather jacket from the chair’s back and tossed over your shoulder.

“You’re too loud, did you know that, agent Reed?”

The woman turned around the same second your known perfume filled the room, a big smile tugging on her lips. She waited for you to get closer, annoyingly punching your arm as a form to say ‘hi’. Standing in front of her, the younger Carpenter was awkwardly looking at you, curiosity in her eyes as she watched you and your old friend interact.

You didn’t notice, but Tara was carefully watching you, the way your eyes light up whenever Kirby said something that happened while you were away from each other, crazy stories like the one where she almost got killed, again, a couple months ago. Funny ones, like when a common friend of yours got scared during a mission and yelled like a little girl because of a cat hidden inside a locker, causing you to throw your head back as you deliciously laughed. She smiled too, tilting her head to admire the way your nose scrunched or how your lips moved when you talked, or how your browns furred when Reed told what happened last year during Halloween, only then your eyes met Tara’s for more than a few seconds, a pinkish color painting her cheeks.

You didn’t know much about it, choosing to ignore the comments as you never knew what was a fact or what was a lie purposefully made up to destroy the sister’s images. All you were aware off, was that the masked killer that terrorized your colleague, and friend’s, life years ago in Woodsborro came back and worked at the precinct.

Kirby wasn’t the type of person that spoke about her fears and the horrors that haunted her over the years, all you knew was what she chose to share and the reason to why she decided to become a detective. You didn’t push her to talk, patiently waited for her to open up to you by choice because she trusted you. It took a long time for the moment to come, but one day, the alcohol in her made her talk and boy… she really had a lot to share, and it was very graphic — you swore you could feel the knife twisting inside you.

And now, with your eyes connected to Tara’s, a girl that seemed so sweet and kind, had gone through the same traumatic event as Reed did and, knowing her the way you did, you could only image the scars that hung onto the young Carpenter’s body and soul. You smiled at her, reaching your hand to hers.

“It’s nice seeing you again, miss Carpenter.”

Her hand was soft, warm and delicate against yours.

“You too, detective.” She smiled, hand still on yours. “I didn’t know you and Kirby knew each other.”

“Well, when I joined the force,” you started, forcing yourself to break the contact. “Reed was the first one to reach out to me and invite me for some beer after out shift.”

“She’s a very quiet girl, but it’s a great listener.” Kirby said with her costumery side smiled. “If you ever need someone to talk to, Tara, she’s the one you can go to.”

You looked at Kirby with pursed lips, head tilting in a silent ‘what the fuck are you doing?’

Tara let out a small laugh, “It’s good to know that, Kirby. If you trust her, then I do too.”

“Well, I don’t believe in that,” you said, licking your lips as you gave your attention to the girl. “I rather earn your trust than Kirby just giving it away. Trust is a very precious and intimate thing, Tara, you should only trust someone you know.”

“In that case, we should get to know each other better.” She smiled. “Don’t you think, detective?”

“I think that’s a great idea, miss Carpenter.”

That night was the first time you went out with Tara; Kirby tagged along in the first two hours but went home after a few rounds of beer, the alcohol getting to her way easier than you remembered. Helping her into the cab, you made sure to share her live location with you before sending her home, an old habit you had acquired after the truth about her life in Woodsboro.  

“You know…” Tara started, her index finger messily playing with the sweaty, half empty, beer glass in front of her. “It’s sweet what you did there.”

“What do you mean?”

You have always been strong when it came to alcohol, maybe it was due to your position as a detective or you had a really good regenerating immune system — even a common cold couldn’t get to you.

Tara, apparently, wasn’t like you. She was leaning against the table, playing with the glass cup like a little kid that was sleepy but refused to close her eyes and drift away in slumber. You carefully watched her, afraid that she would eventually fall off the chair.

“The location, I saw you sending her live location to your number.”

You shrugged, taking a sip of your beer. “It’s nothing, really. I just want to make sure she gets home safe.”

“Still,” her hand reached yours on the table, thumb softly brushing your skin. “it’s sweet. You’re sweet.”

“And you’re drunk.” You laughed awkwardly, finishing your beer in one long sip, still allowing her to touch you. “Come on, let’s get you on a cab.”

Her hand grabbed yours when you threatened to stand up, ready to pay the bill. “No, please. I want to get to know you better.”

“We can do that some other time, miss Carpenter.”

“Promise?”

You didn’t like promises, it carried an obligation that you didn’t like, but you just couldn’t get yourself to say no when her big, sparkling eyes stared at your soul.

You sighed with a small smile, “I promise.”

When you were paying the bill, Tara was standing close to you, holding onto your arm as if you were going to run away from her. It was cute, you had to admit as you looked at her while the cashier waited for your card to approve the payment, the different height between you two very noticeable when her head barely reached the top of your shoulder.

Before you could put her inside the cab with her apartment address on it, you made sure to save her phone number and share her location with you, just like you did with Reed over the years.

“Text me when you get home?” Tara asked through the open window when you closed the door for her.

“I will.” You smiled, turning to the old driver. “Take her home safely, please?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You stood there for a few seconds, watching as the yellow car drove away, Tara’s happy face outside the window waving at you. You waved back, heart warm at how adorable she was.

When you got home that night, you weren’t exhausted even after the busy day and all the beer you had, you felt alive and giddy as you texted the newly-added number, telling her you were safe and sound at the comfort of your home. The reply came in the same second, telling you that she was in bed already with a kiss blowing emoji next to it.

Now, a year after that first night out with Tara, you had the young girl sleeping safely in your arms, the morning sun breaking the thick, rainy clouds and invading the apartment, waking you up. Tara was hidden in the hollow of your neck, her calm and heavy breathing tickling your skin, still sleeping soundly.

You looked around the scene, still half asleep. Your coffee mug, now cold, still on the side table. The birds were chirping for the first time in a while since the winter arrived in New York. Some blankets had fallen to the floor, leaving only one covering your bodies. It was true, Tara only needed you to keep her warm.

Feeling your eyes on her, she stirs in her sleep and you’re fast to tighten your arms around her, but after all the incidents that happened around her in the past years, she was a light sleeper.

“You’re suffocating me.” She giggles, hand resting on your neck.

“I should suffocate you after you made me skip work last night.”

“Did I? I don’t remember putting a gun to your head and making you cuddle me.”

Your eyes widened, pulling back just enough to find hers.

“You did worse! You looked at me with Bambi eyes and you know I cannot say no to that.”

She laughs, “You’re very weak for a detective.”

Rolling your eyes, you ignored the fake teasing, caressing the scar on the right side of her belly.

“I’m only weak when it comes to you. You’re my only weakness, Tara.”

Her expressions softened, eyes analyzing your face. She knew you weren’t lying, just like she knew you would do anything to protect her, other than the four core, you were the only one that took her walls down.

“Well, then I guess I’ll have to use this against you so I can have you all to myself.”

“You’ll always have me all to yourself.”

“I know,” she shrugged. “but sometimes work steals you from me.”

You smile, “I have to keep my girlfriend safe, don’t I?”

“I guess you do, but today,” the tip of her fingers slid under the collar of your sweater, noticing the lack of bra; she wet her lips. “I have you all to myself, and I am not letting you go.”

“I certainly don’t want you to.”

Tugging you by the collar, she climbed on top of you, the blanket falling to the floor with the sudden motion.

For the first time you could fully see her as she sat on your hip; black panties and an equally black tank top, slightly wrapped around her thin waist, the tip of her scar visible, messy hair cascading down her shoulders.

Biting your lower lip as your eyes followed her curves, hands on her thigh following to her hip, then her waist in a strong squeeze. When she leaned down, lips oh so close to yours, you jumped when a low clearing of the throat coming from the kitchen filled the room; your instinct quick to pull a blanket from the floor to cover Tara’s body and pull her against you.

Standing in the corner of the brick wall, Sam was avoiding looking in your direction until her sister was fully covered, arms crossed in front of her chest.

“Please, tell me you two weren’t going to have sex on my couch, again.”

Tara hid a laugh against your neck, unlike you — who felt heat rising from your toes all the way up to your face, cheeks burning with Sam’s disgusted look. This wasn’t the first time the older Carpenter walked on the two of you, but it was funny that this happened twice on the same week, at least this time you both were fully covered…

You opened your mouth in an attempt to say something, an apology, or maybe try to convince her that this was not what was happening at all, but all that came out was a struggled sound that caused Tara to laugh muffled against you.

Sam took a deep breath, reaching out for her keys that were settled next to your mug. She adjusted the black beanie as she walked to the door, unlocking the 4 sets of locks and turning to you with a tired expression, “If you two are still on my couch when I come back, we’re gonna have a whole different conversation. Got it?”

You nodded fast.

“Good.”

And left.

You let out a breath you didn’t even realize you’d been holding when you heard the jingling of keys on the other side of the door and distant steps going down the stairs.

Removing the blanket from her head, Tara looked at the closed door before staring at you, a loud and delicious laugh breaking the almost palpable tension that was left in the room.

“How can you laugh like this when your sister walked on us like this, again?” You were in disbelief, heart beating in your throat.

“If you could see your face, you’d laugh too,” she whipped the corner of her eyes, pressing a fast kiss on your lips. “I might be your only weakness, but Sam is your only fear.”

You huffed, agreeing with your girlfriend.

“I’ve seen what she’s capable of, I am not risking having my hands cut off, I’d miss them a lot!”

“Oh, trust me, I know,” she leaned in, hands on the side of your head, a hard grip on the cushions you laid your head on. Tara brushed her lips on yours, a fainted smell of cherries filling your lungs. "I would miss them too... more than you could ever imagine.”

Before you could close the small gap between your lips, the jingling of keys got you sitting up, arms firmly wrapped around the youngest waist, walking to bedroom at the end of the hallway, a giggly Tara clinging to your body for her dear life; you kicked the door close and leaned against it, breath caught up to your throat as you faced Tara with pursed lips.

Sam had her eyes closed when the door swung open, one hand on the door knob and the other covering her face. She had forgotten her cellphone. When she was met with silence, her index finger moved up a little, enough for her to peek at the scene.

The living room was a mess, blankets all over the floor, your slippers and Tara’s lost in between, a couple cushions in the middle as well, but what made her take a deep breath to keep from freaking out was the overturned mug on the side table, cold coffee dripping on the wooden floor.

#✍️ #cold coffee #tara carpenter #scream #jenna ortega #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x y/n #tara carpenter x female reader #tara x reader #tara x y/n #tara x you #tara x female reader #detective reader #scream vi #scream tara #scream vi tara #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x female reader #jenna x reader #jenna x y/n #jenna x female reader #wlw #lesbian #tara carpenter tag #tara carpenter fanfic #1k club #spidey's projects

[leonw4nter]

Lovebirds (of Prey)

Husband!DI!Leon x F!Reader

Here you are, quietly hanging out in the darker corners of an old-money party and waiting for Leon to arrive. Parties were never your scene and though you’d avoid being in one, duty calls and now you find yourself being dragged to one. You weren’t just assigned to be someone lurking in the darkness and carefully waiting for the time, no; you were assigned to be a bellhop and gather people’s coats and valuables before they entered the party proper. Unfortunately for you, you and Leon wouldn’t be able to come in as a couple to read people and the room for the neo Umbrella bioweapon trader you’re assigned to take into custody. You protested to your boss about this arrangement, especially that you and Leon are literally married. Just like you did, he also protested against this but you two had no choice but to accept this arrangement.

“I’m sorry baby. I know this will be slightly awkward for us both but it’s just for a mission right? I promise that this is the first and last time we’ll have something like this,” Leon reassures you as he drives you both home.

“Yeah. Don’t tell this to the kids, they’ll think we’re separating,” you softly respond. With a soft sigh, you unbutton the topmost button and lean against the window as you mindlessly stare at the cars speeding past.

“Yeah,” Leon responds. He puts a large hand on your thigh, giving you a comforting squeeze even if he keeps his eyes trained on the road and the other hand on the wheel. “I love you honey. You know that?”

“Yeah, I love you too.”

A few hours later, you two send the kids over to your parents’ house before suiting up for the mission: Leon in a sharp suit and you in your bellhop uniform. You fitted all straps and subtle holsters, making sure they were secure and well-concealed in the clothing you guys wore. Leon handed you the earpieces and cuff mics, making sure they were also well-hidden. Since Leon will be entering the party via the main entrance where everyone else is required to enter through, he will enter unarmed but with connections to the expertly placed agents throughout the party he’ll be able to arm himself while looking for the target, a neo Umbrella genetic engineer named Svetlana Noble. You two left separately, sharing a kiss and words of good luck before leaving the door and heading for your destinations.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

A few hours later, you’re lugging around dense fur coats and several car keys as you head to the storeroom of the guests’ belongings. You haven’t seen Svetlana yet and Hunnigan hasn’t given her a signal yet so you safely assumed that she isn’t around yet although you reminded the other agents planted around the scene to stay sharp. A sleek black Aston Martin DB9 Carbon Black pulls up into the driveway, which catches your attention but you don’t pay it much attention. That is, until you heard Leon’s voice.

“My lady,” he says in a low voice, though his words are not meant for you. You turn your head and see another lady, a fellow agent, take his hand and exit from her side of the car. She looks beautiful: her glossy hair that fell until her tailbone straightened, elegant glitter makeup highlighting her features, and a matching black dress with gemstones sewn in. She giggled at Leon’s voice a little too hard, making you seethe and glare at them from a distance. You know that this is all for a mission and the appearance of a woman in love with the man she came in with is necessary to throw off suspicions. Before another bellhop can accommodate them, you step in and put on a well-mastered fake smile.

“Good evening, esteemed guests.” you greet. You meet Leon’s eyes and he almost chokes on his own spit, his ears slightly going red but maintaining a composed appearance despite this.

“Good evening,” he greets you back before handing you the keys to the car. Since the lady didn’t have a coat, there was nothing to carry back to the storage room and as the pair of them left, you couldn’t help but burn holes into that perfect hair of hers. Y/N calm down, this is just a mission and they’re just faking it. They’re just faking it.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

Now that all the guests have arrived, you move from your post at the entrance and towards a darker corner of the party while lugging around cases filled with guns and other weapons to send to the other agents stationed around; some agents had partners like Leon, others went alone. Some were like you, assigned to a hotel staff role. It was hard to keep your eye on the target while Leon and the younger agent were dancing, a well-manicured hand on his shoulder as he sways them. If Leon is truly amazing at putting on a pleased facial expression then he’s doing damn too well of a job at keeping up that facade, the insecurity pushed to the front of your mind and threatening to take full rein of your decision-making yet you fought for control again, knowing that you can’t fuck this mission up. Leon leans in to her and whispers against her ear and suddenly you feel as if steam could start pouring out your ears. Luckily for you, you managed to spot Svetlana and another man taking a seat and have a discussion amongst yourselves. You inform all the agents in the area, giving them the details of the location the target is currently in. Svetlana takes a small metal briefcase out, showcasing several tubes and vials of a strain of the C Virus before promptly closing it and handing the case back to her guards. The guards, now in possession of the case, nod to her before moving somewhere. Given the go signal, you quietly follow them from a safe distance and start moving, a combat knife hidden on the inside of your black uniform. After a few minutes of following them and making sure they’re far from the party, you plunge the knife into one man before kicking on the other, making sure that you go for the kill as swift and noiseless as possible. You manage to do the job, taking the case and opening it up to make sure that you have the real thing and not just a copy.

“Osprey to Roost, I’ve obtained the case. Took two guys down, Noble’s men,” you radio back while getting your shoes back and trying to look as subtle as possible.

“Osprey, get out of there. I’ll request extraction for everyone. Noble’s looking for the guys,” Hunnigan responds. With a nod and a look back, you make your way out of the hotel. Entering an elevator, you expertly block the cameras and swiftly remove the top of your uniform and stay in the gray shirt you were underneath. You didn’t bother changing out of your skirt because that was all you had and without the uniform’s top, it looked just like any other pencil skirt. Swiftly walking to your red Ducati Panigale V2, you put on your black helmet and put the visor down before turning it on and getting the hell out of that place. All was well until a bullet barely even grazed your shoulder, causing you to almost lose balance and crash on the road.

“Shit!” You exclaimed. You switched lanes, making sure to get as far from whoever was shooting you. You swiftly looked back to look for the case that you had; it was still there luckily but you prayed that the vials were still inside and unshattered. It wasn’t like you could take out your own gun and start shooting since you carelessly forgot to take the firearms of the men you took down. When all seemed lost, you saw a familiar black Aston Martin near you with an agent hanging from an open window and shooting at the enemy car shooting at you. Taking advantage of the distraction, you speed away and into the meet up point right behind a port.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

Now that the mission briefing is over and the adrenaline from last night died down, exhaustion and jealousy settled in your body.

“Baby, I know you’re jealous,” Leon softly says as he sits down beside you, handing you a cup of coffee.

You take the cup, taking a cautious sip since it’s still steaming. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Leon laughs, taking your free hand and nuzzling it against his stubbly cheek while he shoots you puppy eyes.

“Saw you loud and clear last night, you were practically shooting lasers out of your eyes,” Leon recalled. “Even when I wasn’t directly looking at you, I could still feel the unfiltered jealousy seeping from your eyes.”

You rolled your eyes, gently withdrawing your hand from Leon.

“I was not jealous. Just making sure she didn’t canoodle up to my man.”

“So you were jealous?”

“I wasn’t.”

“Sure. Whatever you say but I find it endearing. It means you want me the same way I want you,” Leon rasps out.

You finish your small cup of coffee, getting up to throw the paper cup into the bin before sitting back beside him.

“She was looking at you with the goo-goo eyes, it’s my duty as your wife to make sure only I can give you those eyes,” you retorted with a suggestive lilt to your voice.

“I especially love those eyes from you when they’re below me,” he whispers.

“I can make those eyes for you again when we get back home,” you suggest with a wink.

Before you can say another thing, Leon drags you up and with a hand around your wrist he leads you two to an empty janitor’s closet and seals you two inside.

“Why wait until we can get home when we can do it now. Think of this as a teaser for the real thing later,” he breathily mutters as his hands roam every inch of your skin.

"Let me show you just how loyal I can be from down here."

NOTE - I'm finally done with my Valentine's Day series!!! This was really fun to do and I never thought I'd be able to accomplish this but here I am!!!! I know Valentine's Day was like a week ago but I still srsly hope you had a fun time :) I literally ended up rushing this bc I had no ideas at first 😭😭Um something interesting that happened in my day was that my teacher said that the class will get a buzzcut if I get a buzzcut (as a joke ofc) and the fact that me and my friend are forever known as the students obsessed with fictional men bc we screamed when we got Gallagher from HSR leaks on twt (I don't play HSR but my friend does, I just find the characters attractive). I also found out I don't have a gag reflex (milked so much dirty jokes from this fact). Anyways, TYSMM for keeping up with my Valentine's Day fics and I <33333 UUUUUU!!!!!!!!!!

#resident evil #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x reader #fluff #leon s kennedy #leon scott kennedy #leon kennedy fluff #leon s kennedy fluff #biohazard #rebhfun #death island leon #resident evil death island #resident evil x reader

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

go for it! ; yuuta okkotsu

synopsis; yuuta’s been crushing on you ever since the first group project you had together, but he’s too nervous to confess. luckily, he has some over-eager friends willing to help! step 1: ask for your number!

word count; 7.4k

contents; yuuta okkotsu/reader, gn!reader, university au, yuuta majors in creative writing and writes poetry in his spare time <3, no curses au, yuuta is a cutiepie, he’s also a loserboy, pining and longing, one-sided love, maki inumaki and panda are wingmen (but not very good ones), fluffy vibes, gojo makes a guest appearance (stay safe), literally just yuuta being whipped for like 7k words straight

a/n; im gonna have to edit this a lot i think….. but for now it should be fine :3 i love the boy!!

”you’re staring. again.”

yuuta flinches. a jolt overtakes him, running through his body, and the pen he’d been absently writing with slips from his fingers. it tumbles down to the ground with a soft thunk. 

gazing up at the shadow towering over him, his eyes are wide, a little flustered; like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. like he’s expecting a smack on the head from the person in front of him.

— it’s maki. 

and she looks displeased, lips pursed and a single eyebrow raised. unimpressed, as she stares him down — the same way he’d been looking at you just a second ago.

”they’re gonna think you’re a creep if they catch you, you know,” she sighs, shifting from one foot to another. carrying her bass in a case on her back.

”maki, c’mon,” comes from behind her, an even larger figure strolling up to the pair. grinning brightly, fluffy hair tousled by the afternoon breeze. ”cut him some slack!” 

”salmon,” a third voice joins in. inumaki’s got some green paint staining the sleeve of his hoodie, and his fingers are dirtied with charcoal.

his closest friends, all joining him on the table they usually frequent on campus. right next to a giant tree, casting a pleasantly cool shade and obscuring the irritating brightness of the sun.

maki, headstrong and resilient. infamously rude. a music major, primarily, though yuuta knows she has more than a couple minors. if you pay attention, you can see her almost everywhere on campus, and she always does well on exams. confident, enough so that just being around her makes yuuta feel a little more secure in himself.

panda, a big kid with a big heart, always wearing monochrome clothes. ‘panda’ can’t possibly be his real name, though yuuta’s never found the courage to ask. truthfully, he isn’t sure panda even has a major, or goes to this university at all — but nobody’s mentioned it yet, and he doubts they ever will.

and then inumaki, the quiet kid, always helpful and kind. a little teasing, too. selectively mute, speaking exclusively in rice ball ingredients, but yuuta has already begun adjusting to the thought behind his phrases. an art student with remarkable talent, from sculptures to comics to paintings. he mostly spends his lectures playing games on his phone, though. and he's the kindest guy yuuta knows.

his beloved friends. the reason he can smile through each day, even when it’s a little difficult.

and maki’s right, he knows she is. if you were to lock eyes with him, and realize he’d been glancing over at you for the past ten minutes… god, he doesn’t even want to think about it. you’d be weirded out for sure, wouldn’t you?

but yuuta just can’t help it. you’re far too radiant to ever look away from, smile much too pretty.

you’re just sitting there, laughing and talking with your friends, the same as any other day. comparing hand sizes with miwa, or leaning over to whisper in mai’s ear. snorting over something momo said, or trying to understand the code kokochi’s fiddling with on his laptop. just being yourself, with people you’re close to.

and yuuta desperately wishes he could be among them. wishes he could see your honeyed smile up close, hear the melodic lilt of your laughter, breathe in the lingering scent of your shampoo. he wishes he could speak to you without stuttering, without tripping over his feet — hang out with you outside of class. just something small, like studying together, or grabbing a bite to eat.

he wishes he could get to know you. 

yuuta thinks he must seem like a fool, to be so affected by your mere presence. everything comes to him so easily, when he looks at you; the pitter patter of his heart, his sweaty hands, the whirlwind of butterflies swirling in his chest. even just the way you twirl your hair or chew on your pencil is so mesmerizing. 

so all he can do is stare, hopeless, a moth to a flame. basking in the warmth of your gaze, directed at your friends.

hoping one day, maybe… that warmth will fall upon him, as well.

(maybe one day.)

”hellooo? earth to yuuta!”

”see? he’s hopeless.”

”mentaiko…”

”inumaki’s right. he’s a man in love!”

”he’s a boy with a stupid crush,” maki scoffs, picking at a piece of lint on her tank top. ”and we have a study session we need to get done. the exam’s next week, remember?”

exam.

yuuta shoots up, wasting no time in grabbing his backpack and slinging it over his shoulder. the ring hanging around his neck dangles with the sudden movement, and he clutches onto it.

”ah — right!” he squeaks, apologetic. ”sorry, it completely slipped my mind —”

before his mind can begin to overthink every action he’s taken these past few hours, a hand reaches out to pat his shoulder. pat, pat. reassuring and stabilizing.

inumaki smiles at him. yuuta can’t see his mouth, from behind the fabric of his hoodie, but his eyes crinkle softly; and it’s enough to put yuuta’s heart at ease.

”don’t apologize,” maki says. simple, straightforward. ”let’s just get going. i need to do better than naoya did last time.”

”you’re still mad about that, huh?”

”he only got a higher score because i wasn’t on top of my game,” she grumbles, digging her nails into the pockets of her baseball jacket. ”he doesn’t even like music. he’s just taking the course to piss me off. grown ass man.”

a chuckle slips from yuuta’s lips. the warm breeze ruffles his hair, and he holds onto the strap of his backpack, following closely behind as his friends begin to leave. sending one final glance at your figure, over by a table near the apricot trees.

and that’s when it happens.

— he looks over at you, and finds that your eyes are already on him. 

a moment passes.

while yuuta struggles to find his breathing, your lips curl up into a soft smile. then you raise your hand, waving to him cheerily, teeth peeking out from between your lips. he can see it clearly, even with the distance between you. 

a smile that glimmers like a jewel, in the light of the sun. 

yuuta feels his lips part, mouth falling open ever so slightly. but he waves back, afraid to take too long, unable to stop the pounding of his heartbeat — smiling giddily, like a schoolgirl tripping over her feet. 

his friends just watch, wholly unimpressed.

”do you think he’d notice if i threw a rock at him?”

”maki!”

”what do you like about them, anyway?”

the question is unexpected. yuuta has to do a double take, eyes straying from his excerpt of sappho 31 up to the person seated across from him. tapping her pencil on the edge of the table, resting her sharp jaw on the heel of her palm. 

”huh?”

”them. your crush,” maki reiterates. ”what caught your attention? there’s got to be something, yeah?”

”oh?” panda chirps, leaning back in his chair. a teasing grin playing at his lips. “i thought you didn’t care about his silly little crush.”

”i don’t.” a huff pushes past her lips, hands reaching to fix her lazy ponytail, hair tie dangling from between her teeth. ”i’m just bored. i already know all this, anyway.”

”tuna mayo.”

”oh, are you curious too, inumaki?”

”well, out with it. why them?”

yuuta blinks. once, then twice — mind spinning in circles, as his friends await his answer.

and, truthfully, yuuta can’t pinpoint the exact moment he felt it. that burst of joy, that tinge of excitement — the puppy love that rika always spoke of. she was always good at verbalizing her emotions, in a way yuuta never could.

(he always knew he loved her, but he could never put it into words.)

and he knows that he likes you. he knows because every word you speak has him stumbling over what to say, because even a single smile sent his way makes the world feel so gentle. he knows because he’d probably throw himself into incoming traffic, if you just asked him to.

but he can’t put it into words. not spoken ones, anyhow — putting them on paper is one thing, the one thing he can do. writing out his love for you in similes and metaphors, sonettes and alexandrines. it’s how he copes with everything; writing and writing, til his fingers start to hurt. he can compare you to a dandelion, to the way cicadas buzz in the light of the sun. the scent of childhood. but it’s harder to speak it out loud, to turn the feelings into sounds — that’s maki’s specialty, not his.

why does yuuta like you?

he remembers it clear as day, but still can’t pinpoint the exact second he fell headfirst into love. it was more of a creeping realization, something soft and sweet trickling through his veins. that sinking feeling, how helplessly he fell for you.

it all started with a pencil.

in hindsight, it’s a little silly. but yuuta can’t bring himself to think back to that moment with anything other than fondness.

(your smile was just so bright.)

that day had been a disaster. he was nervous, painfully so, afraid of every single new thing he came across during his first week of uni. scatterbrained, running on almost no sleep, unsure of where to put his feet as he walked.

honestly — what kind of trainwreck forgets their pen and notebook during their very first workshop?

all that anxiety, all those hours spent overthinking, and he still couldn’t manage something so small. in the moment, he almost panicked; sitting with you, a total stranger, wholly unprepared for such a simple assignment. read a couple excerpts, analyze them on paper. all yuuta could do was stare blankly at his lap, frozen, throat dry. hands cold with sweat.

but then you smiled.

”did you forget your notebook?” you had asked, voice set to a soothing tilt. calm, not angry or impatient.

”ah — yeah, i, um…” yuuta could only swallow thickly, fidgeting with the strings of his hoodie. ”i’m sorry. i haven't been sleeping well, so —”

”hey, hey, it’s fine!” you chuckled, teeth peeking out from between your lips. ”i totally get it. i almost forgot my laptop at yesterday’s lecture. we can just share!”

then you pushed your notebook closer to him, inviting him in. moving your chair a little, angling it towards him. but all yuuta could think of was how pretty your smile looked, how kind your presence felt.

”here you go,” you grinned, snapping him out of his trance. ”you can use this.”

a pencil. yuuta took it from your opened palm, gazing at it in wonder. an orange-coloured, halloween-themed pumpkin design. completely out of season. the tiny pumpkin was cute, though.

such a casual kindness. but maybe that's exactly why it made his heart flutter so deeply; as if you did it without even really thinking. as if kindness comes easy, to you.

that’s probably how it began. by the time the workshop ended, yuuta knew that he liked you, and he knew that he wanted nothing more than to be your friend.

(subconsciously, his fingers tap at the zipper of his backpack. the pumpkin pen is still with him, after you waved him off with a smooth you can keep it, if you want. yuuta has found that he always writes best when he uses it.)

”well?”

maki’s voice snaps him out of his trip down memory lane, and he stumbles for something to say. what does he like about you?

squirming, yuuta feels his face heat up, as he thinks of you. all he can see is your smile, the kindness in the tilt of your voice. the brightness of the grin you sent his way. warm and saccharine, like the sun peeking out after a downpour — when the streets smell like honeydew and rain.

”they’re just… so cool,” he finally sighs, a dreamy look smoothing over his face. ”they’re so nice. and their smile is so beautiful. they’re so smart, too — god, you should see the way they write — everything about them is just…”

yuuta blushes a deep red, smiling even still. lovesick. ”.. so, so wonderful.”

maki freezes in the midst of the tapping of her pencil. panda stops kicking at the foot of the table. and inumaki looks away from his phone, messing up his full combo.

a moment of silence passes. the study hall grows quiet, and yuuta looks down at his lap; suddenly embarrassed. sipping from his little carton of apple juice.

”hey…” panda starts, delicate. somehow, yuuta dreads the teasing edge to his voice. ”have you thought about confessing to them, yuuta?”

”what?” the boy in question squeaks, choking on his juice. ”no, of course not!”

”why?” maki deadpans. popping a chip into her mouth. ”you’re head over heels, right? might as well do something about it.”

inumaki hums. affirmative.

”i… don’t know,” yuuta sighs. a heavy breath, a little wobbly. meek. ”they’d just reject me, wouldn’t they? i mean…”

(you’re totally out of his league. right?)

maki scoffs, sitting up a little straighter. there’s an angered kind of affection in her eyes. ”you’re just deciding that all on your own. how would you know how they feel?”

the gaze she sends his way is intense. it always has been. there’s a kindness to it, though, something that makes yuuta want to look her in the eye — but he can’t, eyes still locked on his hands, resting in his lap. ”… still,” he manages a weak smile, somewhat sheepish. ”even if i wanted to, there’s no way i could. i’m too much of a coward.”

…

maki slams her textbook shut. the sound is sudden, loud. yuuta flinches, and a wince leaves inumaki’s lips. panda just watches her, snacking on some chips, a mild curiousity simmering in his eyes.

the girl in question gets up from her seat, grabbing her bass case and throwing it over her shoulder. then she looks at yuuta, eyes full of decision.

”— well, lucky for you, we’ve got some time to spare.”

a blink. yuuta gazes up at the girl in front of him, tilting his head in confusion.

maki sighs. exasperated. ”i’m saying we’ll help you. don’t look so resigned, dumbass.”

at that, panda gets up too — suddenly excited. ”are you thinking what i’m thinking?”

she just huffs, smiling even still. ”probably not. but let’s hear it.”

the grin on his face widens. he scribbles something down in his notebook, showing off the writing proudly. ”operation: get yuuta to confess is about to commence!”

inumaki turns off his phone. sitting up straight, arms decisively crossed, a strangely serious expression on his face. completely invested.

”wait — wait!” yuuta stutters, eyes wide with flustered shock. ”don’t i get a say in this?”

”of course not.”

”nope!”

”bonito flakes.”

”b… but —”

”alright, so here’s what i’m thinking,” panda begins, writing down unintelligible notes on the pages of his tattered notebook. ”we need to start small. we don’t want yuuta getting heart palpitations and fainting in the middle of campus, so —”

”tuna mayo?”

”yeah, that’s perfect! hang on, lemme just…”

”let me see. i don’t want you messing this up.”

yuuta’s voice comes out tiny, as it falls from his lips. more of a squeaky breath. ”guys, i really — you don’t need to —”

panda continues to scribble in the notebook, engrossed, arm hanging off maki’s shoulder as they go over the contents. inumaki nods along, walking over to them with lazy steps. yuuta’s protests go unnoticed, and all he can do is watch them mutter under their breaths.

”— okay. listen up, yuuta.”

he raises his head, and meets maki’s sharp eyes. she’s smiling, strolling over to place the notebook right in front of him. ”here’s how this is gonna go.”

yuuta looks down. 

everything is written out with a pink sharpie, glittery and pretty. there are little hearts doodled out across the pages, and he can tell exactly which ones were drawn by who. all of them look messy, with the exception of inumaki’s perfect little shapes. 

and there, right in the middle, lies a line of text.

panda reads it out, voice loud and cheery, while maki and inumaki stick close. all smiling, as a chill crawls down yuuta’s spine.

”step 1: ask for their number!”

plan a

”okay, so… what am i supposed to do, exactly?”

panda throws an arm over yuuta’s shoulder, and he’s enveloped by the scent of fresh sunlight. the weight is heavy, a comfort. ”we’re going with my plan first! it’s the best one, so don’t worry.”

”i don’t know about that,” maki scoffs. ”we can’t ask mai. best case scenario, she’ll laugh at us a little and say no.”

inumaki hums. he rips out a part of the notebook he’s been tasked with carrying, doodling a little face and showing it to the rest of his friends.

yuuta leans in close. it’s a cute doodle, charming. and he can tell who it’s supposed to depict. miwa kasumi.

”yeah, she’s our best bet,” maki sighs, brushing some specks of dust off her jeans. ”she seems like the nicest one in that group.”

yuuta tilts his head, brows furrowed in confusion. he plays with the ring hanging around his neck, a nervous tick he’s never managed to get rid of. ”wait, so…” he trails off, unsure. ”what are we doing, exactly?”

panda tugs him closer, a friendly smile on his face. ”we’re going to their friends for help!” he beams. ”that’ll be easier for you, right?”

a blink. yuuta gazes into the eyes of his friend, something soft blooming in his eyes.

they can be a chaotic bunch — but they’re still so considerate. considerate enough to know asking for your number straight out would be too much for him. considerate enough to think of his comfort, in a way no one else has bothered to before.

(faced with such immense understanding, such genuine friendship, how could he ever bear to let them down?)

”… alright,” yuuta gulps, clutching his ring as if to give him courage. managing a smile. ”let’s do this, then!”

with newfound determination, the four of them seek out miwa kasumi. it doesn’t take too long — she’s studying, going over legal codes in the library, eyes narrowed in concentration. and she isn’t alone.

”hey, miwa. muta.”

the pair look up from their respective textbooks and laptop, meeting the gaze of a certain maki zenin, waltzing over to their table. miwa smiles, but kokichi doesn’t say anything.

”hi, maki! how are you?”

”i’m good,” she answers, straight to the point; but her eyes soften a little. then she gestures towards yuuta with a tilt of her head. ”sorry, but this guy needs your help.” 

”hm?” miwa shifts in her seat, meeting yuuta’s nervous gaze, as he steps forward. ”ah, you’re… okkotsu, right?”

”ah, yeah! sorry for interrupting you two…”

”no, no! please, don’t worry about it,” she grins. sweet and soft, twirling a lock of her hair between her fingers. ”we don't mind. right?”

kokichi still doesn’t say anything. but he nods, when miwa meets his eyes — and yuuta notices that they seem a lot softer when she does.

”so, here’s how it is…”

panda explains the situation to the pair. yuuta looks down at the floor, face flushed as he shifts from foot to foot. by the time he’s finished, miwa looks wholly invested, and kokichi looks a little less like all he wants is for them to leave him and miwa be.

”awww, that’s so sweet!!” she gushes, clasping her hands together. eyes glimmering with excitement.

”right,” maki hums. already a little impatient. ”so, basically — we need their number.”

”… ah. well, um —” miwa trails off, averting her gaze. she looks over at kokichi, but he only shrugs, going back to his coding. ”see, here’s the thing…”

with an apologetic look in her eyes, she turns to yuuta. ”i support you 100% — but i dunno if it’d feel right to just… give away their number like that, you know?” she mumbles, sheepishly. ”i think you should ask them, yourself. that’d be way more romantic!”

”yeah, but that’s a tall hurdle for a socially anxious guy…” panda mutters, patting yuuta’s back.

”still! i’m sure they’d appreciate you being direct.” miwa closes her eyes, a dreamy expression painted on her face. ”i’d be elated if someone asked for my number like that!! all stuttering and shy… it’d be so cute!”

(if anyone notices kokichi stiffening beside her, they don’t mention it.)

maki sighs, resigned. ”well, i don’t think we’re getting any numbers here. good. what kind of creep just texts someone out of nowhere, anyway?”

”i thought it was a good plan!” panda protests, pouting a little. maki shoots him a look.

”it was an awful plan. what were you planning to say? hey, i forced your friend to give me your number, but would you want to hang out sometime?” she crosses her arms with a sharp scoff. ”i’d beat your ass!”

panda grumbles a little under his breath, but doesn’t say anything. 

”sorry i couldn’t be of more help,” miwa mumbles, sheepishly, rubbing the back of her head. ”good luck, though! i hope they say yes!”

”thanks, miwa,” yuuta smiles, already in the process of being tugged away by his friends. ”i really appreciate it!”

plan a

plan b

”alright, inumaki’s turn. what’s your take on the situation, mister?”

the boy in question sits up straight, back resting against a tree trunk. he writes something down, and yuuta waits, patiently — absentmindedly staring at the white petals of the apricot trees on campus. pure, fleeting, sweet blossoms unfurling before him.

when he’s finished, inumaki presents the page to yuuta, and everyone gathers round. reading the writing, eyes trailing over his little doodles. panda grins, and maki strokes her chin in contemplation.

”you’re a genius, inu!”

”well, it’s probably the easiest way to go about it…”

yuuta purses his lips. it’s a good plan, he thinks; writing out a note, and passing it to you in the middle of class. that way, he won’t have to turn his feelings into sounds, won’t have to speak them out loud. there’s a safety to it, the trickling of ink across blank papers. one that’s never failed him.

”… that should work,” he mumbles, and inumaki visibly brightens. ”what am i supposed to write, though?”

”just be straightforward.”

”not seconded!” panda huffs, crossing his legs. ”you need to be dramatic. heartfelt. that’ll catch their attention!” he stops to think for a moment, a hum buzzing loudly in his throat. ”hey — why not write them a love poem? put those skills to good use!”

”a love poem?” yuuta squeaks, a slight heat rising to the tips of his ears. ”there’s no way i could do that! and i’m not skilled, i —”

a pause. yuuta bites his lip.

”… it’d just be embarrassing,” he finally mutters, playing with his ring.

(he wonders what rika would think, if she were here. what she’d advise him to do — would she like the love poem idea? probably.)

”well, you could at least try. who knows, maybe they’ll like it,” maki attempts to reassure him, chewing at a piece of gum. ”if they’re anything like miwa, it’ll be easy.”

gnawing at his bottom lip, yuuta emits an anxious hum. deep in thought. maybe you would like it, but… what if you just think it’s cheesy?

maki observes him, intently. listening to the emotions behind his silence. tapping the pads of her fingers on her knee, in a rhythmic motion. ”… at least try writing something out,” she says. ”if you can’t think of anything, then just copy some random old guy. what was his name, uh — catallas? or something?”

yuuta’s gaze snaps up, eyes gone wide. ”catullus?” he gapes, in disbelief. ”are you insane? do you even know what kind of poems he wrote?”

maki shoots him a confused look, and a tilt of her head. ”isn’t he the ’give me a thousand kisses’ guy?”

”he is, but that’s —” a sigh, exasperated. flustered, as it flows from his parted lips. then he shakes his head. ”nevermind. it doesn’t matter.”

”tuna…” inumaki mumbles, nudging yuuta’s shoulder with his head. a silent encouragement. and even with no words, yuuta knows what he’s trying to say.

just be yourself. this is your specialty, right? 

write from your heart.

”inumaki…” yuuta meets his gaze, and is met with a pair of warm eyes. a friendly punch meets his shoulder, soft and delicate. kind.

”… alright. i’ll write it!”

”that’s the spirit!” panda grins. ”just give it to them during tomorrow’s lecture.”

”yeah,” yuuta nods, mustering the courage to smile. ”i will!”

when yuuta gets home that night, he makes himself a cup of coffee with too much sugar, and gets ready to write.

he listens to maki’s acoustic guitar covers through his headphones, curled up with the fluffy blanket panda gave him, and munches on a hastily made onigiri to give himself much-needed energy.

(writing with a certain pumpkin-themed pencil, basking in the scratching of lead against blank pages.)

his hands are shaking.

it’s barely noticeable, but it’s there. that nervous shiver of his bones, the rattling of his skeleton. you’re sitting right next to him, so close he can smell the shampoo you use, the mint off your breath —

and yuuta can’t seem to hand you the note.

he spent all last night writing it. putting every single little drop of his love into every single little word. but that fear of rejection still remains, rendering him useless, unable to act.

you’re listening to the lecture, but only halfheartedly, absentmindedly doodling in your notebook. out of boredom, he assumes.

it’s the perfect moment to strike.

yuuta’s hands are shaking, and his heartbeat is stuttering, crawling up his throat. he takes a sip of water, hoping it’ll make the dry sensation go away, but it doesn’t work.

(just be yourself.)

with a deep intake of breath, he pushes the note over to you — not daring to look your way.

his eyes remain glued on the laptop screen in front of him, but he hears you pick it up, hears the rustling of paper as you unfold it. his heart echoes with a similar rhythm, unstable, borderline erratic. the rest of the lecture passes by slowly, minute by minute, at an agonizing pace.

when it finally ends, yuuta has to restrain the urge to run away — turning towards you slowly, hesitantly, as if just the sight of you could blind him if he isn’t careful. but you’re already looking at him. and you’re smiling.

”that was so good, yuuta!”

….

huh?

”sorry, but i honestly don’t have any feedback,” you mumble, eyes trailing over the note again. ”i like it a lot. i didn’t know you wrote poetry!”

”… ah.”  yuuta stumbles for something to say. staring into your eyes, blankly. dumbly. ”t.. thank you! i’m glad you liked it.”

with a brief shake of your head, you smile, and something sickly sweet unfurls in his chest. ”not at all. thanks for letting me read it! i’m sorry i can’t really help you improve…”

mentally, yuuta falls to his knees. places his palms on the floor and dry heaves, clutching his heart. did you not get it? was he not clear enough? he wrote it with you in mind, so —

”maybe you could show it to professor nanami?” you suggest, unaware of the turmoil within the boy to your right. ”i'm sure he’ll be a great help! he can seem a bit intimidating, but he’s nice.”

”.. yeah,” yuuta smiles, weakly. ”i’ll do that. thanks again.”

for a moment, he isn’t even upset. because you flash him another bright smile, and suddenly, even the frustration of yet another setback doesn’t feel so awful.

(maybe it’s fine, he thinks. maybe this is enough; speaking to you, getting to see your smile up close. maybe he doesn’t need anything else, after all.)

”so?” maki questions, waiting for him outside of class with his other two friends. ”how’d it go?”

shoulders slumped, but still wearing a smile on his face, yuuta chuckles. it comes out sounding a little strangled. ”they… thought i wanted their feedback on my poetry.”

….

”what.”

panda attempt to stifle his laughter, but it doesn’t really work. inumaki elbows him gently, but yuuta sees his eyes crinkle, too. he breathes out a low chuckle. ”they liked the poem, at least. so i’m happy.”

a sigh falls from maki’s lips, and she waltzes over to him, a hand on her hip. the other reaches out for the note in his palm. ”let me see.”

quickly unfolding it, her eyes trail across the words on the pages, the flowery lines of writing —

and then she shoots him an unimpressed look.

”.. yuuta,” she pinches the bridge of her nose. ”what the hell is this? you didn’t even mention their number.”

panda leans over her shoulder, peeking at the text. eyes glancing over a couple lines, riddled with sugarsweet metaphors. ”uh, wow. you… really got into it, huh?”

a groan leaves yuuta’s lips, the sound muffled as he cradles his head in his hands. ”please don’t say anything else. i just wanna crawl into a hole and die…”

inumaki shakes his head, erratic, pointing at the poem with shining eyes. ”mentaiko!”

”ah, you liked it? thanks, inumaki…”

the boy in question smiles, shooting yuuta a thumbs up. he returns it with a small smile of his own.

surrounded by his friends, all he can do is bask in their warmth — and the memory of the smile you gave him.

plan a plan b

plan c

a groan fills the air, as yuuta slumps over the table. cheek pressed against the cold wood, absently kicking his legs, voice meek and defeated.

”this is never gonna work,” he mutters under his breath. eyes devoid of hope. ” i’m just not cut out for this, guys…”

”aw, c’mon….” panda reaches over to ruffle his hair, palm big and warm. ”don’t give up hope! you want to grow closer to them, don’t you?”

”i do, but…” he sighs. ”this isn’t going very well, is it…?”

inumaki frowns, sending yuuta a sympathetic glance.

”oh, quit moping already!” maki grumbles. ”we just need to keep brainstorming. isn’t it time for my plan, yet?”

”should we really even keep going…?” another sigh, heavy with fatigue. yuuta’s mind spins in circles, tiring him out. rendering him a bit cynical. ”i mean… maybe it’s fine if things stay this way.”

a moment passes. maki looks at him, emitting a soft scoff. ”what, so you’re just gonna keep pining for the rest of the term?”

”that’s the plan.”

”yuuta…” panda pouts, shoes bumping against his beneath the table. ”be more positive! just think about it; with every step you take, you get closer to confessing!”

yet another groan. this one is deep, riddled with exhaustion. muffled into the table. ”that’s the scariest part…”

before either of his friends can begin to persuade him otherwise, encourage him further, a sing-songy voice echoes throughout the air. loud, cheery — a little bit obnoxious.

”oh? did someone just say confess?”

at the same instant the sound reaches their ears, a chill runs down the youths’ spines. in tandem with each other, they raise their heads; gazes falling on a certain satoru gojo.

panda and maki are the first to act, speaking simultaneously as the white haired man inches closer. 

”— no.”

maki closes the notebook containing operation: get yuuta to confess, right before their professor can get close enough to see it. then she turns towards him, shooting him a cold look.

”your hearing’s getting bad,” she hums. ”maybe you should book a doctor’s appointment.”

a pout. gojo takes a seat right beside her, uncomfortably long legs bumping against every single other pair of shoes beneath the table.

”oh, c’mon. you know i heard you.” his hand reaches out to ruffle her hair, but she smacks it away. ”you’re starting to sound just like megumi, y’know that?”

maki grits her teeth. ”guess it’s a genetic thing,” she huffs. ”now can you leave? don’t you have papers to grade?”

”don’t you have papers to write?” gojo smirks, a teasing mirth in his eyes. hidden behind his sunglasses. maki ignores him. 

placing his palms on the table, he leans a little closer, lips curled up into a cheshire grin. foreboding. ”sooo… yuuta’s got himself a little crush, huh?” he teases. ”tell your favorite professor allll about it. maybe i can help!”

”professor geto is our favorite,” maki shoots back, instantaneous.

a soft huff. there’s something sour in gojo’s expression, now. ”that guy? really?”

before the two can argue further, yuuta takes the opportunity to to speak. smiling apologetically, polite and sweet. ”thanks, mr. gojo, but…”

”he doesn't need your help,” maki cuts in. so much for diffusing the tension. ”and do you really expect us to believe you get girls?”

”wha — rude!” gojo scoffs. ”for your information, i’m a natural charmer!”

… 

a moment passes. then another.

”… tough crowd,” he clicks his tongue, met only with four blank stares. ”but, really — let me help! i'm your professor, you know?”

and this time, yuuta thinks that gojo’s smile looks just a little more sincere. something kind and gentle in the way his lips curl up, like a father’s affection for their children. something that makes yuuta falter.

(maki might like mr. geto more — but when it comes to yuuta, his favorite professor is a no-brainer.)

so he speaks up, again. ”we can at least hear him out, right…?” maki shoots him an unimpressed look, but he doesn’t back down. ”we’re stuck, anyway…”

and just like that, gojo brightens. it’s obvious, in the way he sits up, more alert. in the way his grin grows wider. ”right? what you need is the perspective of someone more experienced.”

”have you even talked to a girl before?”

”i see him at ieiri’s office, sometimes.”

”salmon.”

”isn’t she a lesbian? that doesn’t count. i mean, like, in a romantic context.”

”i thought mr. gojo was gay, too?”

”what? no way. have you seen the way he’s dressed —?”

gojo clears his throat, voice loud and grating. demanding attention, cutting his eager students off. ”anyway,” he chirps. ”gather round, children! i’ll tell you exactly how to ask the person you like for their number.”

”wh —” yuuta blinks. ”how’d you…?”

”operation ’get yuuta to confess!’, step 1: ask for their number!” gojo repeats, grinning ear to ear. voice rich with amusement. ”i like the glitter. it’s a nice touch.”

maki huffs. looks like she didn’t close it fast enough.

begrudgingly, the youths quiet down, finally willing to hear their professor out. and gojo seems satisfied, at last, speaking in a hushed whisper; eerily serious all of a sudden. ”ok, so here’s what you do…”

everything goes silent. yuuta strains his ears, and gojo parts his lips. 

”— just ask them! easy, right?

….

”let’s go, yuuta.”

”mentaiko.”

”i heard they're serving those sandwiches you like at the cafeteria today! let's hurry before they run out.”

”ah — i was just kidding!” gojo laughs, as his students get up from their seats. ”i have an actual answer!”

maki grabs her bass, inumaki takes the notebook, and panda ushers yuuta away. they begin to walk down the hall, ignoring the pleas of the man behind them. pouting, as his shout echoes throughout the hallway. 

”kids! come back!”

plan a plan b plan c

plan d

”okay, so this is going absolutely nowhere.”

relishing in the shadow cast by the giant campus tree, the four friends sit on their usual table, sandwiches in hand. yuuta takes a bite of his, tentative. a little disheartened.

”really, guys… i appreciate it a lot, but maybe we should stop here.”

maki huffs. reaching across the table, she gently smacks him over the head with her can of sprite. ”no way. we still haven’t tried my plan.”

he leans back, a little further, a hesitant look in his eyes. the sun shines down, relentless, but the air smells like rain. in the distance he sees clouds, dark, approaching at a slow pace.

an omen, he thinks. a reason not to speak out.

rika always liked the rain. she liked the scent that came with it, the puddles she could jump in. she liked shaking the branches of tiny trees, just to see him jolt and squeak as the raindrops hit him.

the ring around his neck weighs heavy on his heart. the promise of it, the oath within the silver.

(when we grow up, let’s get married!)

”earth to yuuta!”

his eyes flutter open.

the sun shines down, embracing the contours of his face. painting his world yellow. from this angle, staring up at the tree, he can see it breaking through; between the gaps of the green leaves, the white blossoms. forcing its way into his line of vision.

a flicker of hope.

”do you want to hear the plan or not?” maki scoffs, crossing her arms and tapping at her elbow. impatient.

yuuta meets her gaze, finding it in him to muster up just a little more determination. ”yeah,” he breathes. ”i do.”

a smile blooms on her face. ”good. alright.”

panda and inumaki inch closer to the pair, careful not to knock over the cans of soda resting on the table. in a mess of limbs and tousled hair, they gather round.

this is it, yuuta thinks — the final plan. if it fails, he’ll just have to keep pining from afar. memorizing your smile, over and over, until you graduate and part ways. 

this is it.

maki parts her lips.

”— just ask them,” she says. ”straight out.”

silence. 

a moment passes. a soft, pleasant breeze flits by, caressing yuuta’s skin. his ring sways with the wind, gently. 

”… huh?!”

panda furrow his brows, leaning closer with his palms on his knees. ”i thought we agreed that was stupid!” inumaki huffs out a low affirmative noise, holding his sketchbook tightly to his chest. but maki only puffs out her chest.

yuuta tilts his head, with a soft furrow of his brows. ”didn’t you just cuss out mr. gojo for suggesting that…?”

”well, it’s dumb when he says it…” she mutters, under her breath. then her gaze turns firm. ”look — yuuta.”

when the two lock eyes, he notices a steadfast determination, glimmering in her irises. something almost burning.

”you aren’t going to get anywhere if you’re too cowardly to even look them in the eye,” she tells him, not allowing him to squirm away from the eye contact. ”you guys can come up with those convoluted plans all you want, but there’s no way you’ll grow closer if you can’t face them.”

tousling her hair, softly, maki lets out a sigh. there’s a kindness to it, distinct. he can tell she’s trying to be tactful. 

”if you really want to get to know them, then you have to be direct. and you have to believe in yourself. you’ve already resigned yourself to the fact that they’ll say no — but that’s just dumb.”

panda winces, under his breath, but doesn’t say anything. maybe this is exactly what yuuta needs to hear.

the boy in question listens, the eyes of his friend boring into his own. determined, confident, sincere — everything he isn’t. everything he wants to be.

”even if you don’t believe it, you’re a charming guy. we all think so,” she continues, matter-of-factly. angered affection overflowing in her voice.

”have some confidence, dammit!”

a moment passes. yuuta feels his lips part, ever so slightly. a little speechless.

panda and inumaki sit shoulder to shoulder, hands over their eyes, shielding themselves from the sight in front of them. comically, as if it’s too bright to look at directly. 

”this… overflowing tough love…!”

”salmon roe…!”

maki grins, all teeth, a little wolfish. but kind. ”the worst thing they can say is no, right? 

yuuta blinks. ”maki…” he mumbles, looking into her eyes, a certain sensation running through his chest. a kind of confidence. passed on from her to him — one friend to another. the most natural exchange in the world.

then he smiles. a little meek, somewhat awkward — but bright. ”yeah. yeah, you’re right!”

the lazy grin on her lips only deepens, as she gets up to her feet, dusting non-existent dirt off her jeans. reaching a hand out for yuuta to take. ”c’mon, loser. shape up. you’re gonna steal their heart, aren’t you?”

a moment passes.

yuuta takes her hand in his. ”i am,” he swallows down a gulp. willing his voice to sound even a little bit self-assured.

and she pulls him up, effortlessly, overflowing with a natural resilience. still grinning cheekily. encouraging him. ”you’re gonna go out there and do your best, right?”

”i — i am!”

another voice chimes in. ”you’re gonna finish my essay for me this week, right?”

”i am!”

…

”wait —”

maki hits panda over the head with a soft thwack. a wince leaves his lips, and inumaki giggles, quieting down when maki sends him a warning glance.

”don’t throw him off his game,” she huffs. then she turns to yuuta once more. ”let’s go find them. alright, loverboy?”

a smile blooms on his lips. grateful, to be surrounded by such sunny people. ones that make it a little easier to smile each day. ”right.”

— but before either of them can take a step forward, a warm voice spills into the open air.

”um, yuuta?”

the boy in question stops in his tracks. he feels his eyes widen, spinning on his heels, hair ruffled by the breeze — turning to look at the source of the sound. 

it’s you.

you, with your sunkissed smile, that inviting voice. that soothing, soothing presence. one that has his heartbeat picking up in speed, hands growing sweaty, throat running dry. one that makes him feel a little bit feverish. and you’re looking right at him, into his eyes.

”hey!” he sputters, blinking rapidly to convince himself that he isn’t hallucinating. but you just keep smiling, answering his awkward greeting without skipping a beat.

”hi! sorry, could i just… talk to you, for a second?” 

he blinks. the world stops spinning.

(you… want to talk….

to him?)

attempting to find the words, any words, he opens his mouth — but nothing comes out. not a single syllable, no vowels, not even a sound. nothing at all.

he can only stare, star-struck.

it’s not until his friends push him forward that he’s snapped out of it; they surround him, on all sides, wearing matching grins. teasing and excited.

”don’t worry, he’s all yours!”

”have fun, you two!”

”salmon!”

— then they’re off. 

yuuta tries to reach for their sleeves, in a weak attempt to keep them from leaving, but they’re gone before he can even blink. leaving him all alone, with someone he can’t talk to without experiencing intense symptoms of heart failure. 

he stumbles for something to say, again, but thankfully you beat him to it.

”sorry for interrupting you guys,” you say, voice set to a low tilt. apologetic. and his throat unclogs, a little.

”ah, no, it’s fine!” he smiles, maybe a little too giddy. wanting so badly to reassure you, to put you at ease. ”i’m happy to speak to you!”

…

(oh god oh no why did i say that —)

your smile widens, blooming like a flower in the sunlight. unfurling in front of his very eyes. ”me too!” you say, excitedly. ”i feel like you and i have been talking more, recently… it’s nice.”

eyes crinkling, you wringle your hands together, and look at him fondly. yuuta’s surprised he manages to keep his knees from buckling.

”i think so too!” he grins, ears pink and dimples showing. 

both of you smile. the breeze curls around your hair, illuminating the colour of your eyes. yuuta stops breathing, for a moment — just taking it all in.

”so — anyway…” you murmur, fiddling with the fabric of your pants. ”um… haha. sorry, i’m — a little nervous…”

yuuta blinks.

(he knows where this is going. all the signs are there, right in front of him; the flush of your cheeks, the nervous tapping of your fingers, the hesitance in your eyes. he’s read enough shoujo manga — he knows what this means.)

and he almost can’t believe it.

all he can do is keep smiling, hoping it’ll give you even a fraction of the peace that your smile brings him. ”don’t be,” he says, voice soothing. scratching the back of his head. ”whatever it is, i’ll — um. i’ll listen, so…”

he clears his throat. swallowing thickly.

”just — whenever you're ready.”

there’s no mistaking it. your ears are painted pink, and you’re gnawing at your bottom lip. fiddling with your fingers and avoiding his gaze, with a soft inhale, clear air filling your lungs. he wonders if your throat feels as dry as his, if your heart is beating even half as fast.

”um… okay, so…” you mumble, eyes unable to stay in one place for too long. a soft bout of laughter escapes you, and he can tell you’re trying to stave off your own nervosity; it sends a pang of ache running through his chest.

he wants to tell you that there’s no need to be nervous. that he’d listen to anything you have say, absolutely anything, no matter what it is.

he wants to tell you that he’d never let you down, that he’d have to be foolish to even think the thought.

he wants to tell you that he’ll hear you out. whenever, wherever. for as long as you need.

”do you, um…”

a gulp. your eyes find his, and there’s a soft kind of decisiveness in them. 

here it comes, he thinks. here it comes.

yuuta feels the heat on his cheeks, ears burning. and he hears the patter of his heartbeat, loud and heavy, echoing in his muddled mind like a mantra. but his chest feels light; fluttery, butterflies dancing around uncontrollably. 

clutching the ring around his neck, subconsciously, he looks you in the eye.

they’re bright, glimmering like little galaxies — or maybe more like summer skies. painted over with a warm hue, something nostalgic and sweet, so pretty it hurts. if he strains his eyes enough, he’s almost sure he can see the swirling of fluffy clouds in the depths of your irises.

a smile rests on your lips. it's almost overwhelmingly sweet, albeit a little shy, as you part your pretty lips. voice soaked in nervosity, tingly and shaky, and something he knows to be puppy love.

a shallow, dry intake of breath. yuuta braces himself.

here it comes. 

your voice spills out into the air, dripping with honey and magnolias. he thinks to himself that he’d like to hear the melodic lilt of it every single day; before going to bed, right after waking up. walking to campus together, heading back to the dorms when the sky gets dark.

just the sound alone would be enough.

subconsciously, he tugs on the strap of his backpack. thinking of the pencil inside it. his lucky charm, along with the ring around his neck — ordinary objects, both too precious for words.

(when we grow up, let’s get married!

you can keep it, if you want.)

here it comes, yuuta thinks.

a new beginning.

he strains his ears, and purses his lips, and watches your lips move as you finally ask —

”do you have maki’s number?”

(somewhere in the distance, from an inconspicuous bush, the muffled screams of three students and one professor resounds.)

#sorry yuuta T_T #I LOVE THIS BOY!! W MY WHOLE CHEST!!! (i just happen to also love maki oops) #dont worry abt it guys the obvious solution here is yutamaki x reader🥳 #i love college yuuta sm aaa…. hes so sweet…. i wanna pick him up n throw him against a wall #sorry. im sorry #he gives me cuteness aggression ok😥😥 #writing for inumaki makes me feel so goofy... why am i out here going “salmon salmon mentaiko”.......... #okkotsu yuuta #yuuta x you #yuuta x reader #jjk yuuta #yuuta okkotsu x reader #yuuta okkotsu x you #yuuta fluff #jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fluff #jjk college au

[myouicieloz]

All for me

CEO Im Nayeon x college student!reader

Synopsis: Nayeon is on a work trip and you miss her.

Warnings: nsfw, smut, phone sex ig

Word count: 2.8k

Notes: hummm I think there are some spelling mistakes… grammar ones too lowk... not proofread! ˆˆ

-

“Who’s Jenjen?” Nayeon’s voice is full of disdain as she stares at you, her eyes narrowing dangerously.

“W-what?” you frown, taking your mouth out of her breast with a ‘pop’, truly confused about why she’d bring up your friend in the conversation while you’re like that: a mess of coated saliva and wheezy thoughts, buried in between her chest. “She’s my roommate. From the US, remember? But why—” The woman ignores your confused face, promptly picking up your vibrating phone from behind you. It was visible that your friend, Jennifer (or, well, Jenjen💞❤️😎💙 — as the girl had picked out her own contact name) was calling you. “—oh.”

Jen doesn’t call you often, so it’s strange that she did. You gesture to reach your phone from Nayeon’s delicate hands, only to have your own slapped, instead.

“What are you thinking? Don’t fucking answer.” She lifts an eyebrow at you, pulling herself up to her elbows.

Daring you to misbehave, to not listen to her clear commands. You know how well Nayeon loves this game, how she delights herself in punishing you whenever you do something she deems as wrong — even if you haven’t actually disobeyed her. She just revels in doing as such: messing with you as she pleases. You’re her property, after all. Her little doll, to play and deal with however she wanted to.

And you know better than to not follow her blindly.

You’ll deal with Jen later, you decide. For now, you allow Nayeon to pull you by the hair, bringing your focus back to her delicious moans as your mouth finds her stiffened nipples once again.

-

It was rare for Nayeon to facetime you unexpectedly.

You’d usually have full days of classes, and hers were usually pretty packed up with work, so she’d always wait until you were both on a break to call, messaging first.

Not today, though.

You answer the video call straight away, fixing yourself as best as you were able to while her face didn’t appear on the screen. While you were surprised, the smile on your lips was genuine. The woman had been in Japan attending a few meetings for a couple of days now, and you missed her a lot. She also seemed surprised to see you in your dorm, too, though it clearly pleased her more than it should.

“Hi, Nayeon. Is everything ok?” Your eyes brightened at the sight of her, looking so composed and lavish in her work clothes, bunny smile and shiny eyes presented all for you.

She could be a bitch and a pain in the ass if she wanted to, specially when dealing with work stuff, but she was always caring towards you. Never rude, never impatient.

“Well hello, princess. Don’t you have classes to attend to?” you giggled at the older woman, jumping in bed and taking her— or your phone, for what it mattered, with you.

“Technically, yes.” you told her, after a few seconds of fake pondering, “I’m ditching today, though. There’s this super difficult test on Friday, and I’m barely halfway done with reviewing, so I’m picking my battles.”

She knew this beforehand, of course. You’d given her your schedule when the semester had started, just so you’ll be aware, you’d told her. Truly, it was just natural for you to have her know your routine: it made you feel safe, cared for, and she liked it as well.

You tried to recognize if she was in her hotel room, but her background was a bit different from where you had FaceTimed last night; the walls were too white, and she had headphones on.

Most likely still at work, then.

“Smart girl, picking your battles.” Oh. There it was again, that tone. The one that made you tremble with anticipation, readjusting yourself in bed, so you could have some friction in between your thighs.

It was no surprise that Nayeon preferred to be taken care of. She did spend most of her time bossing people around, after all. Of course, you were more than pleased to give her that, treating and handling her just how she wanted you to, while she rewarded you with expensive gifts and trips. However, most of the time, she’d use you for stress-relief: groping and marking your skin until her anger was gone, and she could dote on her little doll again.

You looked forward to those nights, secretly wishing someone would make her angry enough so you’d be squirming, hopeless, under her touch for hours an end.

“It’s perfect, then.” Nayeon’s voice brought you back to the conversation, the sharpness of it not going unnoticed by you. “Take off your pants.” she commanded, leaning back on her chair so she could be the most comfortable.

“Excuse me?” it was your turn to stare at her incredulously, but she didn’t bulge. If only, her posture got stricter, and a tiny smirk adourned her face.

“Did you not hear what I’ve just said? Undress.” you rolled your eyes at your partner, suddenly filled with defiance, but still did as told. Your sweatpants were taken off rather clumsily, since you were still holding your phone close to your face, but you were quick to obey.

“Fine. Is it better, now?” You muttered, but Nayeon scoffed, still not fully satisfied.

She licked her lips, pleased to have you following her orders.

“Much better, princess. Now, let me see you.” You were curious to see how far she’d go, so you placed your phone on the other end of the bed, allowing her to see every inch of your exposed skin. Even with your panties and a sweatshirt on, you still felt completely exposed to her gaze.

Truth be told, you did feel that way even when you were fully clothed around her, too.

“So pretty. Are you alone?” She praised you, her onyx eyes leaving your body for a few seconds to search for any signs of other people at the dorm.

“Obviously?” Nayeon gave you a hard look, making you shrink in place. You tried your best to be polite, reserved, calm—and that included never being ironic or making snappy remarks at people, but occasionally, it slipped, almost naturally. “Sorry.” You corrected yourself, not meeting your girlfriend’s eyes. “Yes, I’m alone. Jen also has a full day of classes today. A private practice too, I think. She’ll be out until late.” You feel better, seeing the smile of approval on your lover’s lips.

She was looking at you with such lust, it made your heart break with how much you missed her.

“I want to touch you so bad.” you whined, motioning yourself further so you could hold the phone and be near her —at least virtually, again.

“Don’t move the phone. I want you exactly like this.” The answer came almost immediately, though Nayeon’s eyes did soften at your pleading. “I miss you too, pretty girl. The good news is: I’ve closed the deal earlier than expected, so I’ll be home by tomorrow.” You smiled contentedly, humming in response. “Now, be a good girl and make a show for me, will you?” she asked, eyeing you attentively.

“Not fair.” you mumble, but your hands still went all the way up the thin fabric of your panties to caress yourself. You’re not one to blush, but being stared at by Nayeon suddenly makes you too shy to look at her in the eyes.

It aroused you, though. To have her so immersed by you. You knew her secretary— anyone could barge in, and she wouldn’t even bat an eye. Aware of that, you could feel the slick starting to cover up your walls once you let out a low moan, biting your lips to muffle yourself.

“No sounds for me, princess?” Nayeon asked, too sweet, well aware of your intentions. She let you be a little defiant, knowing it’s mostly your way of showing how much you missed her.

“If you were here, then p-perhaps.” Your words faltered as your fingers caressed your folds, going around your slit in teasing motions. Your cunt was aching, desperate to be filled, but you knew better than to take matters on your own.

Even though you were the one bringing yourself pleasure, Nayeon was in command. She’d always be, in every aspect of her life.

The simple brush of your fingers was enough to have you panting heavy breaths, the wait being the most delicious part of the thrill. You wished it was Nayeon touching you, instead. You knew your sweetest spots, but no matter how much you’ve tried, you could never bring yourself to the same shuddering, earth-shattering orgasms you had whenever it was your partner touching you. Without her, you were never truly satisfied.

She’s ruined you, for yourself and for everyone else, just as she’d repeatedly told you she would.

“It’s only fair, I guess.” She mumbled, smiling at your stubbornness. “So pretty, still, and all for me. Put a finger inside, baby. That’s it, perfect. Breathe in, nice and slow.”

Her breaths were just as heavy as you followed her blindly, eager to seek your pleasure. Your walls welcomed a single digit, and you started with slow movements, just as Nayeon instructed you to.

“N-nayeon…” You whined, leaning your had back on your bed frame. As much as you could feel your wetness and the growing ache, gathering an uncomfortable sensation on your lower abdomen due to the faint action, you’d never be able to satisfy yourself as much as your girlfriend did.

“I know, princess, I know.” She coos, grabbing her phone as if she could reach out to you, instead. “It doesn’t feel as good, does it? It’s okay, I’ll be done with this conference soon enough, and then you’ll have me all to yourself.” You pouted, knowing better than to trust your girlfriend’s words when it came to work. She had done it before, after all: gotten a call back as soon as she stepped foot in the airport, her job trapping her for a few more days. “You have no idea how lovely you look right now, Y/n. In fact, I think your pretty pussy would look even better filled up with two more fingers.”

“I-I,” You whined, lips starting to tremble. It has not been an easy week for you, and your lover’s calm, soothing voice slowly started to turn you into a pliable mess, all hot and hazy.

The many thoughts seated previously in your head start fading, as your brain chooses to focus on Nayeon. Your eyes, though nearly closed, register how good she looks, how tight that 3-piece suit is, and how long she’s been away from you — now. Your skin got even hotter with the wishes to be kissing her plump limps, at the moment. Suddenly, your mind turned foggy, only grounded by your girlfriend’s low tone, and your fingers filling up your walls.

“You can take it, pretty girl.” She assured, motioning for you to do so. Clasped her teeth, then, at the sight of your pussy being entered by three of your fingers, still going in and out in an excruciating slow pace, not nearly enough for you to feel satisfied. “Taking it so good, so perfectly.”

Although the growing ache in your belly was deepening, you still shifted uncomfortably in your bed. The fabric of your panties was too thin, and the friction was starting to bother you. You wanted it off, so you could focus completely on the pleasure you were allowing yourself to have, but your girlfriend had other plans.

“What are you doing, princess?” She lifted her brows at the sight of you lifting your hips, displeased. Although she couldn’t say she hated to see you at that angle. “No, we can’t have that. Good girls keep their panties on. Just push it to the sides a little more, you can hold it if it makes you more comfortable.” Your pussy was so wet, glistening, and slick from her words. “There it is, you’re so good at doing what you’re told, baby. Always so smart.”

You let a loud moan escape from your mouth, aroused by her words, only to cover it up with your hands as you giggle— your pettiness all ruined.

Nayeon smiles hard, too. “I knew you wouldn’t hold it for long, princess. Your sounds are the most lovely, I hate when you cover them up.”

Even though you were flustered, from both your arousal and her praises, you still bit your mouth, committed to following your plan. Your fingers went back to your cunt, and you denied faintly, murmuring some incoherent words about how she’d have to come home and take those sounds out of you, herself.

“What’s all that for, huh?” She leaned her elbows on her desk, smirking at the mess of you on her phone. “Is it because of that purse you were whining about earlier? Come on, princess, I’ll buy you two of them if you let me hear your beautiful screams. Now go faster, too.”

You increased your fingers’ pace, moans exiting your mouth without a care, now that you'd have your wishes granted. “S-so good…” You say, in between whimpers.

“Dirty princess only wants my money.” Nayeon chants to herself, enamored by the sight of your spread up legs, toes curling with the possibility of reaching your high. “Don’t worry, pretty. I’ll give it all to you: all you want, and more. Just say it, and it’s yours. You want more, Y/n?”

You barely register her words, moans now filling up your bedroom’s previous silence. It takes her to repeat her question for you to partially understand it, although still unsure of what she was mentioning. Nevertheless, you nodded vigorously, ready to comply with all of her orders even if your mind was all foggy and hazy.

“Perfect. Now, circle your clit slowly, just like that, yes— exactly how you like it.” She laughs at the sight of you wincing, on the verge of being overwhelmed by your own sudden touches, “Careful, princess. We don’t want you to get overwhelmed right now. Remember to breathe, alright? That’s it, beautiful.”

Following her lead, you inhale deeply, bringing your other hand to your clit as you applied just the right amount of pressure to make you roll your eyes. The sensations aligned were building up to the pleasure on your lower abdomen, and you knew that you wouldn’t last much longer.

“Nayeon, I-I w—“ Your thoughts weren’t clear, and you struggled to voice your desires out loud. The frustration was enough for you to have little tears starting to accumulate in the corner of your eyes, as you huffed.

Thankfully, Nayeon knew you well. Before you started actively crying, she said, with a delicate, caring tone. “It’s okay, princess. You can cum. Do it only for a bit longer, I know you can.”

The effect of your girlfriend’s words was almost immediate: within moments, you were met with a dense wave of pleasure, consuming you completely as you let out a high-pitched, lustful moan. Breathless, you barely noticed how your fingers kept going with their movements, helping you ride out of your orgasm. Your girlfriend let you take your time, minutes passing by in a blink until your breaths were no longer irregular, and your thoughts were all back into place. You were no longer stressed; instead, you stared at her with a peaceful look, now feeling much better after such a tiring week.

As usual, Nayeon knew exactly what you needed.

“Always so sensitive…” Nayeon panted, brushing her fingers through her phone’s screen— as if she were caressing you, instead. “Remember to not overwork yourself too much, okay? Your grades don’t matter to me as much as your well-being; it should always come first.”

You nodded, bringing your phone near your face once again. Of course, you’d comply; she was the one paying for your tuition, after all. “I will, of course. Thank you, baby.”

Nayeon smiled, pleased by your manners. After catching up to her a bit more, you hung up the call, now all focused and much renovated for a new study session. Her message came later, a few minutes after you’d cleaned up your mess and was on the way to your desk, in hopes to wrap up soon.

Ps: I’ll buy you another one of your favorite purses if you leave your panties by Jennifer’s bed, princess.

You laughed at the message, also noticing your bank app’s notifications before you threw your phone away, emerging deep on your notebooks once again.

#s.writes #kpop x reader #kpop smut #kpop x y/n #im nayeon #nayeon x reader #nayeon smut #twice x y/n #twice x you #twice x reader #twice smut #twice nayeon

[ghostandsoap]

Every Scar Has a Story

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Simon “Ghost” Riley x Fem! “Gecko” Reader

Tags: Post-Smut (I’ll owe y’all one LOL). Domestic Ghost. Referenced child abuse. Past child abuse.  

Word Count: 3.0k

“What are you thinking about then?”

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A content sigh fell from Simon’s lips as he collapsed back onto the pillows on his bed. 

His grip on your waist loosened which allowed you to unstraddle him and join him on the mattress. He grinned at you as your naked body piled onto his. If he could relive this moment forever, he’d never complain. He could feel the rapid thumps of your heartbeat against his chest – a sign that you were pumped full of energy and adrenaline. The flat of one of his large hands trailed up and down the length of your back, a gentle motion as a way of relaxing you back to normal.

He had never experienced a moment more serene than the post-orgasm high. It was one he adored, and one that he loved to witness you in the middle of.

“You alright, love?” He took deep breaths in an attempt to settle his own body.

It was such a simple question, and one that he asked every time you made love. Simon knew that he wasn’t always the gentlest person on the planet, and he never wanted to unintentionally be too rough with you.

“Mmhm,” You hummed, looking up at him through glazed (yet satisfied) eyes. “Perfect.” 

That look.

It absolutely drove him wild in the best of ways. It sent a flush of warmth and desire over him every single time without fail. Simon couldn’t understand how someone as flawless and wonderful as you could ever even think of seeing him as worthy. 

He rolled you over to crash next to him, a smile appearing on his face when you giggled. He wrapped an arm around you to pull you in as close as possible, loving every second of having you pressed up against him. The two of you had “gone to bed” almost three hours ago, around 11:00 p.m. or so. You had fallen asleep within a few minutes, but Ghost (who had always struggled when it came to sleeping) stared at the ceiling of his bedroom, listening to your slow breathing as you slept. 

Ghost had gotten used to sleepless nights over the course of his life. It was when his mind was the busiest…when his mind was the loudest. He was patient on nights like this, the ones where he couldn’t mellow out enough to get some decent rest. As long as you were comfortable and safe, he could lie awake for as long as he needed to. But when you started to stir around 1:45 a.m., he couldn’t help but take the opportunity. 

It had happened a couple of times over the course of your relationship. Waking up just enough in the middle of the night to have sex and then both of you (or one of you, depending on the day) falling back asleep. He had nudged you awake when you had rustled in bed next to him, pestering you awake to kiss you as his sign of arousal. He didn’t feel too bad about waking you up. It’s not like you had ever complained about it.

“You gonna go back to sleep?” Simon asked, secretly hoping you’d stay awake with him, but not wanting you to if you wanted the rest.

“Only if you are.” 

“I don’t think that’s happening tonight, lovely.” He kissed your forehead.

“Can’t sleep?” You questioned.

“No,” He answered. “But I’m okay. Not tired.”

Simon had impeccable energy. He didn’t need sleep more often than not. It was impressive to most, envied by some. But he knew that most people wouldn’t want that trait if they knew that it was a survival skill that he had perfected over the years.

Sleeping meant being unaware. Being unaware meant being vulnerable to the world. Being vulnerable meant opening a door to danger. Simon had learned long ago that keeping that door closed was safest.

“I’m not tired either.” You sighed.

“You will be,” He returned. “Don’t wait up just for me.”

“I want to though.”

Simon’s heart did a leap. There was something so incredibly comforting about the thought of you doing something with or for him just because you wanted to.

Time at home was…bittersweet for Simon. He didn’t exactly love when he was sent home before going back out into the field again. He understood that it was necessary, not to mention mandatory. He knew that he needed some time at home, away from the hustle and bustle of Task Force 141. It was the only way to ensure that he could continue to go out with his team when they needed him. Simon Riley might’ve been a freak of nature, but even he needed his breaks.

Getting sent home meant a lot of quiet time for Simon. In years past, returning to his home front meant returning to an empty home with no one to share his space with. At certain points in his life, he would even admit that he preferred it that way. Simon wasn’t graced with complete self-isolation very often. His career didn’t exactly allow that. 

But as he got older (and maybe even just a little bit softer on the inside), the more and more he realized that flying solo isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. 

It was even harder to come home when he knew that meant being separated from you.

The first time that you and Simon were sent home to your respective stomping grounds, he severely underestimated the effect it would have on him. It was a short leave, shorter than the typical time that you were usually sent home for. He could manage a few months, no problem. Before he knew it, the two of you would be deployed back on a mission and it would be like no time had passed at all. Besides, he knew the two of you could text and call at any time. It wouldn’t be that different. 

Oh, but how wrong he was.

Almost four weeks into the three month leave, Simon was practically begging you to come see him. He had found that his apartment felt unbearably lonely, and not being able to see you whenever he wanted to was torture. He felt anxious that he couldn’t be with you in person. He didn’t care how he had to get you there, but he needed to get it done. Sure enough, you were on his doorstep two days after he called you in a near meltdown, with enough belongings packed to get you through the rest of the three month period.

Simon’s mood had drastically improved following your arrival. As a matter of fact, he didn’t realize just how worse off he was without you. Fast forward to one month after your arrival, and with one more month left before the two of you were set to return, Simon had definitely gotten used to having you around.

“What do you think Johnny’s doing right now?” Simon suddenly asked, which made you raise a brow.

“I don’t know,” You laughed. “Why do you ask?”

“He does some odd stuff on leave. I was wondering what kind of stories we’ll get to hear when we go back.” Simon clarified.

“Who knows. It’s Soap,” You snorted. “I’m not exactly thinking about Soap at the moment.”

“Oh, yeah?” He purred, his fingers running through your hair. “What are you thinking about then?”

“You.”

Simon twitched when he felt the feather-like touch of your index fingertip trailing along the bone of his collar. It tickled him, and he hadn’t been expecting it. You were lovingly caressing him, staring at him with adoration. Simon had gotten used to you doing frivolous things like that. It freaked him out in the beginning, because he wasn’t used to someone doing an act of affection just because they felt like it. 

You were following along the path of the scar that was on his collarbone. It was about three inches wide or so, and even though it had faded over time, it was still clear even in the barely lit bedroom.

“What is this one from?” You asked, propping up on your elbow to get a better look at it.

This one.

Simon almost laughed at the wording of your question. He wondered how many people were able to say that to their significant other. “This one” referred to the fact that he had multiple scars from multiple different injuries. It wasn’t conventional, but he found it amusing considering that you were in the same boat. A dangerous career meant dangerous encounters. It was impossible not to have some scars here and there. 

“I think that one was when I got stabbed by the Russian last fall,” He said. “Remember him?”

Simon also found it funny that he wasn’t even totally certain if that was how he earned that one. When someone had as many as he did, the reasons behind them sometimes blended together.

“Oh, yeah. He was a big dude.” You shuddered.

Simon chuckled. That was putting it lightly. He watched as you scanned over his frame, trying to locate another one that you were (or maybe weren’t familiar with).

In so many ways, you enjoyed his company as well. Seeing Simon in such a casual setting was new for you. It was refreshing to know that he really was like everyone else. He enjoyed watching sports games, ordering takeout, and spending a lazy day at home just like you did. 

Not to mention the major elephant in the room, Simon didn’t wear the mask at home. 

This was the longest extended period of time that you had seen him without the mask. Here and there he had put his balaclava on, but for the most part – he had been maskless. Of course you had seen him without a mask before this – but only twice. The first time had been a complete accident, and the second had been intentional in Simon’s first show of trust to you in private. 

Even though his bedroom’s only source of light was currently coming from the streets below and outside of his apartment, you could see his face as clear as ever. He was so beautifully handsome. It was amazing to you that there were so few people that knew what he looked like. You knew better than to comment on that. He never gave more than a vanilla answer to any kind of statement regarding the mask. 

But that didn’t stop you from trying.

“You’re so cute without the mask.” You hummed, finding a small scar just between his nose and the apple of his left cheek.

“Oh, don’t start with all that.” He groaned, but the pink flush in his cheeks let you know that he liked it just a teeny bit.

“Come on,” You whined. “What about this one? Did you take a knife tip to the face in a struggle?”

“That’s from the first time shaving on my own, darling,” He almost laughed. “How else would I have a scar on my face?”

“What do you mean?” You quirked your head.

“I wear the mask, my lovely. Not exactly easy to take damage to the face.”

You supposed that did make sense, and you didn’t dwell on it long.

“This one is from the fire in that shack in Mexico, right?” You pointed towards a burn scar on the skin of his right bicep.

“Yeah, because the shape is similar to the scar you have on your forearm.” He remarked. 

Instinctively, you raised your right forearm to compare the two scars. Sure enough, they were nearly the same shape and size.

“Well…mine is from a hot curling iron,” You snorted. “That’s the one that sticks out to you? Not the scar from metal shrapnel in my knee or from when I got shot in the side in France?”

“It’s the one I remember best because it looks just like mine.” He explained.

‘You know, they say soulmates have matching scars.’ Something that Simon had said to you once in passing. You had taken it as a joke, but Simon couldn’t have been more serious.

“They’re hardly the same.” You smiled.

“A burn is a burn.” He shrugged.

It was a bit of a weird game, he would admit. The two of you did this every so often, comparing scars and reminiscing on how you got them. In a way, it was therapeutic. It also reminded you to be thankful that it wasn’t the injury that made you meet your demise. 

You and Simon both shared scars from stab wounds, gunshot wounds, burns, and cuts of varying degrees. It came with the territory, and it was almost like trophy collecting at this point. The two of you had grown accustomed to them, and most of the time you didn’t even notice them anymore. 

Simon never minded letting you ogle over him in an attempt to find a mark that you hadn’t noticed before. He found it endearing, perhaps a little unfair because he knew there wasn’t a single part of you that he hadn’t noticed already.

Simon felt you examine his torso and legs, scanning over him carefully for another scar to ask about. Not a part of him went unsearched (including his face, where he greedily stole kisses when you got close). You studied his shoulders, biceps (spending a little extra time there – it had always been your favorite part of him), and elbows all the way down to his forearms. 

He didn’t think much of it. Not until he felt your fingers dance over a certain scar that sent his blood from rushing warm to ice cold. A million signals traveled through his system at once – a defense mechanism of sorts.

“What’s this one?” You touched over a mark on his forearm that was much more distinctive than the rest.

It wasn’t remarkably large. It was about the size of a dime, maybe a tad smaller. But its shape wasn’t like anything you had ever seen on yourself or anybody for that matter. It was just barely risen above the skin, and based on the goosebumps that had appeared on his arm – you knew this one was special.

“That one is…older.” He spoke, his voice lower and much more guarded.

You removed your fingers from it because even though he didn’t say it, you could tell that he didn’t like you touching it. The few times that you had accidentally hit a sore spot for him, he put this quick wall up. Identifying it had become easy for you. Pressing forward usually didn’t seem like the best idea, but ignoring it wasn’t very helpful either.

“Older…?” You asked.

“Yeah,” He nodded, voice neutral and deep. “My father smoked.”

Your eyes took another glance at it, using context clues to put the pieces together. What you knew of his father (and you would confess that it was very little) painted him to be the most evil, sinister person to ever walk the planet. Simon had divulged small details here and there, a childhood story every now and again. Needless to say, you knew that his father (and his younger days in general) were not the highlights of his life.

“Oh,” You swallowed, a queasy feeling overtaking your stomach. “I’m sorry.”

Simon’s dark brown eyes met your downcast ones at the sound of your voice being so retracted and soft. Simon could read you like a book. He didn’t want you feeling guilty for asking questions that you had no way of knowing the answer to. You were the last person that he wanted to be uncomfortable at his expense.

“Hey,” He shifted to also sit up on his elbow. “Not your fault. You didn’t know.”

What was ironic was that cigarette burn was the most minor damage left behind by his father. It was something that he could forget…and most of the time he did. The physical injuries were a blip. It was the other stuff – the more hurtful, intense, and…psychological stuff that took the hardest toll on him.

“What happened? When he…burned you?” You continued cautiously.

Simon didn’t blame you for asking questions. If it were the other way around and he knew that someone had hurt you, he’d want to know everything too. But the fact of the matter was that it was buried so far deep in his past that he hardly felt any real reason to dwell on it. Maybe it was his way of deflecting, avoiding old feelings that he never quite came to terms with.

“Darling, I…it’s not personal, I just…” He sighed, unsure of how to gently turn your question down. “I’d rather not talk about it.”

You gave an understanding nod, knowing that line wasn’t ready to be crossed.

“I just feel like I always bring up bad memories for you.” You nearly whispered.

“You don’t. Most of the time I bring it up on my own,” He assured you. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Are you sure?” You squeaked.

He gave a genuine smile, one that was usually hidden by a skull-adorned fabric. 

“Positive,” He pulled you back into his side. “After all, why focus on the past when you could focus on the future?”

“And what do you have in mind, Lieutenant?” You snickered.

He rolled over, hovering over you and trapping you between himself and the mattress.

“Something I think you’ll really go for, Gecko.” 

“Mm. Using my call sign? Must be really important.” You went on.

“Something like that.” He kissed you then, keeping you from asking any more questions on that subject.

Simon knew that with time, he’d be more willing to talk about his father. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust you with that information. Quite the opposite, actually. But in a certain way, not talking about it made Simon feel like it wasn’t real. If he never brought it up, then he could keep it in the past – where it belonged. He didn’t want his past to define his future, and keeping his past alive wasn’t of any interest to him.

He wasn’t lying when he said he’d rather focus on the future. He was so much more in tune with you and continuing what you had than anything else in his life. He liked the Ghost and Gecko dynamic, and he was forever grateful for the utter joy it had brought to him. Most importantly, he was forever thankful for the love being shown to him that he had missed out on.

The love that you had shown him.

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