#(it won't. it'll be like two more months of this because these are the three super busy months for us where it's all back to back to back)

[ghostofhyuck]

nct dream surviving no nut november. ⭑.ᐟ

‧˚ʚ ───────── ₊‧꒰ა ୨ৎ ໒꒱ ‧₊ ───────── ɞ˚‧

AN: Posting this on clutch LMAO. Minors dni.

Mark Lee

I feel like Mark's up to that silly challenge of yours. A month without nutting seems like easy for him, he'll just have to shift his attention on others things. You on the other hand, thinks that it'll be easy for you two. Not until Mark slowly loses his mind, literally,,, everything you do is so hot for him and maybe he was craving for you! But he can't let himself lose this challenge, he'll lose his pride!! The first week was fine with him, but when the second week arrived, he's slowly losing it. Fuck the challenge, he wants nothing more but to be inside you. 

Huang Renjun

All Renjun needs to do is to meditate, relax, and just stop thinking about fucking you when you suggested NNN as a challenge, the prize was the loser has to cook for the month of December, and Renjun is not backing out on escaping chores. Everything's going well, he can manage to dodge all your attempt seductions on making him lose but he bottled it up so badly that it'll just break before November ends. Probably around 20th, he just realized that November's been too long and he's just, "whatever, I need you right now."

Lee Jeno

Contrary to popular belief, I think that Jeno needs your consent when it comes to having sex. So the NNN challenge would be SO HARD for him. The many times he has to wash his hard-on using the shower and thinking weird thoughts to flatten it just makes it worse for him. You watch in amusement as your boyfriend lose his mind because he has not fucked you for the last three weeks, but deep inside, YOU'RE also craving for him. It wasn't until you called a truce between the two of you when he immediately jumped on you. 

Lee Donghyuck

You really think Haechan will join NNN??? Well, at first he's confident that he can have a whole month of not nutting but that's all a fraud. HE NEEDS YOU. You're his life and sun, and no silly challenge is going to take that away from him. He won't even probably last a week, and will be jumping on you in no time because he's just touch-deprived and can't live without your pussy.

Na Jaemin

Jaemin CAN survive NNN because consent is sexy haha and he needs your consent when you two have sex. If you want to join NNN then he has to do that too. I feel like he has needs but he thinks with his mind when it comes to things like this. AND when you're such a tease for making him lose, he knows how to turn it down because there's no way he's backing down from the challenge. (His leo pride is stronger than Mark ngl) But good luck to you when December 1 comes, because he'll be fucking you until you can't walk properly. 

Zhong Chenle

Chenle also wins NNN despite all your endless teasing and attempt seduction because this man never backs out a challenge. His sheer competitiveness just wins over his horniness, that's why he can survive a whole month without nutting because he's thinking of the grand prize --- which is the loser has to give the winner a gift with no price limit. Although there are times that he almost lose because really, he's also a man with needs, the thought of losing slowly comes in which immediately brings his head back to the game. 

Park Jisung

Jisung will be the most frustrated out of all because he ALMOST won NNN and that would've happen if you weren't such a vixen who's only goal was to make him lose. It was fine during the first weeks, you leave him alone and he thinks that he's winning BUT it wasn't until the third week where your only goal was to make him lose. He tried, really, Jisung has to beg in his knees and start praying for the temptation to go away, but he'll ended up nutting on the last day because you decided to tease him more that he couldn't take it anymore. (Safe to say, you two started December with a bang lol)

[whereserpentswalk]

Every starship always has a few ice people on board. It's just standard safety protocol. The minimum number is three, one ice person for defense, one ice person for repairs, and one ice person for medical.

Ice people are people who are put into suspended animation for the duration of a trip, only to be taken out in emergencies. They're useful because a ship won't have to deal with another passenger just for something that won't useally happen. It also makes it so that the ice person is the least likely to be harmed in emergencies. They used to use robots for these sorts of things but now that the robots have unionized biological life is cheaper for that kind of labor.

It's a pretty nice job. Nine times out of ten it's falling asleep and waking up a few months later. Doing it once or twice can pay off your college debts pretty quickly. Compared to the other jobs you'll get with that kind of skillset it's a pretty good deal. Most medical students are encouraged to take it as their first job to pay off their student loans.

Of course, there is a weirdness to it, not existing for such a long time. Even a few months will make the way things change weird. You'll come back to your home planet and things will be diffrent. A freind will have gotten married. A child that you're used to being a baby will be a toddler. Someone will have moved away. It's not all bad, hype for movies or video games, arguments that need time to calm down, skipping out on a bad time in politics. But still, it always makes you a bit separate from everything else.

Of course, there is always the fear suspended animation won't work as intended, and your mind will be trapped dreaming, or worse, conscious, during the entire affair. Perhaps things will that lurk in hyperspace will begin to speak to you. Or worse you'll just be alone, with nothing but your thoughts, and no way to cry out.

But that's not the worst of it, at least not for most people. For most people it's the much more mundane reality of needing to be an ice person for more than just one or two trips. You'll fall asleep and wake up months later, ten, twenty, fifty, a hundred times. And you'll find yourself only seeing the world through snapshots, really only having your other ice people to relate to. You'll be from a diffrent time as everyone the same age as you. It's better pay then any alternative, but there is a greater cost. Soon enough you'll be walking through your homeworld and it'll be alien to you, decades in the future from what you were raised to be in, you'll be wearing a diffrent eras clothing, speaking in a dead dialect, like a ghost from the past.

There was a young engineer who recently returned from being an ice person. Poor thing, she was sent out on an ambassador ship to an alien system thinking it would be about six months, but it turned out she was gone for decades as a war between that ship's nation and the alien homeworld broke out. When she came back all three of her spouses had died of old age, and her son who was an infant when she left was older than her when she returned, and her grandchildren she had never met were her peers.

[27spoons]

There's No Pleasure in Resisting | Natalie Scatorccio

pairing: natalie scatorccio/fem!reader

request: could you write smut or fluff with wilderness nat and reader? they do not have an established relationship, but a bunch of girls stranded in the wilderness is bound to lead to lesbian stuff? (anon)

wc: 2800

warnings: smut (afab!reader), fingering (nat receiving), minor hair pulling and biting, canon-typical survival stuff (mentions of starvation/discomfort), banter as foreplay, technically fluff by my standards

a/n: set in mid s1, pre-doomcoming, travnat never happened. regretably, i made the ending fluffy instead of angsty. who am i and what have i done with spoons

ao3

Two months, three weeks, and four days since that stupid fucking plane went down.

Two months, two weeks, and six days since you were supposed to be back home. 

You weren't even supposed to be on the plane. You were Van's backup goalkeeper, the same person who had never missed a single game unless they were literally dying. You had played maybe two games the entire season. The only reason you even agreed to go was because it was free (thank you, Mr. Matthews), and you'd do anything to get out of Wiskayok.

Now you had an actual role to play. Survival. It's hardly the same as sitting on the bench and watching everyone else do the hard work while you cheer them on. You're no hunter. You don't have first aid training. You don't stitch pelts together or know what berries won't kill you. Mostly, you just do what you're told and try not to be a burden.

The cabin is loud, and you miss having your own sleeping space. Desperately. So, you slip away when the others start getting pissy about dinner again (namely Mari, who constantly whines about the lack of seasoning). They won't miss you.

You wander for a while before ending up at the lake. It's quiet, almost peaceful. True, it's hard to find peace out here, but you'll take the reprieve when you can. There's a stillness out here that sometimes you could find in the late nights behind the school after a soccer game—smoking a joint or sipping on warm beer with the rest of the team.

This isn't that. But it'll do. 

You stand on the shore for a beat or several, staring into the massive body of water as you idly skim stones across the surface. It's not that hot—nothing is out here—but it's warm enough. Warm enough that your sweat sticks to the pits of your shirt and makes you want to claw at your skin. At least in Jersey, you were close enough to the ocean that the heat was never totally intolerable. Here? Here, you sweat like you're in a sauna the moment it hits seventy.

Without even really considering it, you strip down to your bra and underwear and wade in. The water's colder than expected, but so worth it. You would have never disrobed so easily when you first crashed out here. But by now, you've seen just about everyone half-naked, if not fully nude.

You float on your back, eyes closed, letting the cool water lap at your skin and erase some of the noise rattling around inside you. It's the first time you feel even remotely clean in days—maybe weeks. If you were worried about the plane crashing, you would have brought more than just a travel bottle of shampoo and body wash.

Oh, well.

The sun is warm on your face, cool water prunes your skin the longer you remain in it, and the stillness suddenly doesn't feel as oppressive as it did mere moments ago.

You're almost asleep—just barely hovering in that place between consciousness and rest—when you hear a familiar dragging of boots across the rocky shore. You don't need to crack an eye open to see who it is—you've come to memorise the distinct gait that everyone walks with.

When the sound stops, you crack an eye open and see the familiar sight of Natalie Scatorccio standing on the shore. The hunting rifle is slung across her back, hands on her hips, and a smirk on her face.

"This is how horror movies start, y'know?" she hums idly, tossing the rifle onto a large rock before untying the laces on her combat boots. "You'd be the first to die, too."

You bark out a laugh at that, turning your head to look at her as you continue to float. "Yeah? You gonna be the one to kill me, then?"

Nat scoffs as she removes her right boot, "Nah, I'm not giving you the easy way out. I'll let a bear maul your ass before I shoot you."

Her second boot gets tossed beside the first, and she pulls her socks off with an overdramaticized grimace. "Jesus. I think my feet might be starting to rot."

A sound of disgust leaves your mouth before you can stop it, face contorting at the thought. "Oh, gross. That's your own fault for wearing the same socks and nasty-ass boots since the plane crashed."

"Yeah, well," Nat grumbles, kicking her socks away like they've personally wronged her. "Didn't exactly pack a summer wardrobe, so."

You shrug lazily, letting yourself drift a little farther out. "That's your own fault for failing to bring into the equation that we would crash…" You gesture to your surroundings vaguely, "somewhere. Should've planned ahead."

A dry laugh spills from her as she peels her sweat-stained shirt over her head, tossing it onto the pile with her boots. "My bad. Should have packed less booze and more… jackets, or whatever."

She doesn't hesitate much after the shirt comes off—you've seen it all before, anyway. Her red sports bra is a little damp with sweat, sticking awkwardly to her skin as she tugs it into place. Her hands, adorned with rings of various shapes and colours, move to her belt next, undoing it with a practiced flick of her fingers before pushing her pants down and off. She stands there for a beat in her stripped boxers, pausing long enough to glance at you floating just beyond reach.

"What? No comment on my hot new summer look?" she asks, cocking an eyebrow as her feet disappear under the waters surface. 

You crack a grin, letting the current push you back towards her. "If that's hot, I'd hate to see what you'd call tragic."

"Tragic is what I'd call your little… floaty starfish routine," she fires back, wading in until the water is just above her hips.

"Rude," you say dramatically, mimicking Jackie's voice. "Some of us like pretending to be at peace."

"Peace is a myth," Nat snorts, moving to float on her back. "Don't know who lied to you and said that it was."

"Oh, that's cynical Scatorccio, even for you."

She doesn't respond with anything more than a roll of her eyes, letting the water move her around as she lazes in the lake with you. 

It's nice, admittedly. There are no expectations right now, just two teenagers relaxing for what feels like the first time in years.

The corners of her mouth twitch, but she says nothing else. Just tilts her head and watches you. Her legs drift towards you as she floats around, casually brushing yours under the water—except not really. Because when you don't move, she does it again.

And whether it's the water or of her own volition, she's drifting closer. Her thigh bumps yours, slower this time, and then lingers. Not aggressive. Not even bold. Just enough to make you aware of every inch of space between you, or lack thereof.

You glance at her. She's staring at the setting sun, still pretending it's nothing.

You could say something. Crack a joke. Splash her. Look away.

You don't.

She doesn't look at you, but her body shifts just enough that her thigh presses flush against yours. Unmistakably intentional, but you don't comment on it yet.

Maybe it's because you haven't touched anyone in months, and you're starting to get an itch. Maybe it's because it's Nat and she's hot. Maybe because it's Nat and she's a decent fucking human that you've had a crush on for ages, but you find yourself licking your lips as your eyes trace the slope of her jaw.

Then, slowly—almost lazily—she turns to face you. Her eyes flick over your features as her brow creases, like she's taking mental note of how the setting sun reflects in your sclera, or how your damp hair sticks to your forehead. 

Without much thought to the action, she reaches a hand forward to brush some loose hair out of your eyes, then lets it linger on the side of your face.

"Y're quiet," she murmurs.

You blink once. Twice. "So are you."

Natalie snorts, and for a second, it's light again. Almost nothing. But then her thumb swipes across your cheekbone, and you know you're fucked.

She doesn't pull her hand away when you think she will.

Instead, her eyes flick down to your mouth and back up again, giving you an unreadable look that makes your stomach twist. Her fingers twitch slightly where they rest against your cheek, like she's fighting some internal debate.

Whatever it is, she loses.

You don't know who leans in first. Maybe it was mutual. Regardless, it doesn't matter. Not when her lips are on yours, warm and wanting. It isn't dramatic, like something out of a movie scene where the guy gets the girl. It's not hungry. No, it's tentative. Careful, like you're both exploring the other and ensuring this isn't a mistake.

There's a beat of that gentle exploration before Nat exhales hard through her nose, then starts kissing you for real. It's open-mouthed and desperate, like she's needed skin-on-skin contact as much as you have. Her hand slides from your cheek to the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair and pulling you towards her.

Your hands find her waist without thinking, thumbs brushing along the edge of her boxers as you draw her in. You don't know when you started treading the water or when she draped her free arm over your shoulder, but you do clock the moment she shifts in the water and begins to draw you deeper into her orbit.

The lake laps gently around you, cool against overheated skin. Natalie's legs bracket your hips now, water beading off her shoulders and rolling in small rivers down her torso. Her arms dangle loosely around your shoulders, like she's trying to play it casual, like this isn't about to turn into something else entirely. 

"Not gonna drown, are you?" she murmurs, eyes flicking to your mouth, still trying to keep up that facade of nonchalance she tries so hard to maintain. 

You scoff, "Not unless you hold me under."

"I can make that happen if you're into it, y'know?" Her fingers tangle in your hair, tugging on the wet strands. "I'm willing to work with you."

You huff a laugh, but it breaks halfway into a gasp when she rolls her hips forward. 

"Jesus, Nat," you whisper, breath catching as your fingers dig into the curve of her ass. "You always this charming?"

"Only when trying to get someone off," she says deadpan as her lips move to your jaw, tracing a bead of water with her tongue. 

You grunt at that, feet touching against the stony lake floor. "You trying to get me off, then?"

Nat laughs softly against your ear, sending warm puffs of air against your slick skin. "Was that not obvious?" She punctuates the words with a steady roll of her hips against yours, teeth catching on the lobe of your ear as she does. 

"You could make it more obvious, I think." Your hand slips around her front and beneath the waistband of her boxers, finding a warm heat that's slick from more than just the water. 

She sucks in a sharp breath at your touch, and her hips jerk forward reflexively, grinding against your hand. 

"Fuck," she hisses, voice shaky as her nails dig into your scalp. "God, shut up—"

And then her lips are on yours with a feverish desperation, kissing you as though the world were ending—maybe it is. Maybe it already has, given the plane crash and the hell you've since walked through.

Her lips are rough from sunburn and too many days without balm, but it doesn't stop her. Doesn't stop you from biting on her lower lip, either.

While your tongue runs along the seam of her lips, your fingers slide seamlessly through her folds to tease her aching cunt. Usually, you'd probably draw this out. Make her work for it. Maybe see if you could get Natalie Scatorccio to beg—but you're feeling kind today. 

Your middle finger slips into her around the same time you bite down on her lower lip, earning a soft hiss at the duelling sensations of pleasure and pain. A full-bodied shudder runs through her, her hips stuttering forward as her hands scramble for purchase—one clutching at your shoulder, the other so deeply wound up in your hair you worry she'll rip it out from the root.

"Jesus," she breathes against your mouth, eyes screwed shut as though the feeling is too much to look at.

You curl your finger inside her now, testing the waters before you add your ring finger to the mix, and start slowly pumping them in and out of her. She's tight, warm, and impossibly wet around your fingers, muscles clenching rhythmically around your digits as they tease her slowly, searching for that one spot that makes her whine and fall apart beneath your touch.

You find it on the third pass. All it takes is just the slightest shift of angle, a curl of your fingers upward—and her whole body goes taut.

"There—" she gasps, voice cracking like a snapped branch or sudden gust of wind through a warm summer's day. "Fuck, right there—" 

You keep the pressure steady, pressing up into that spot with every stroke, your palm grinding against her clit in time. Her thighs twitch around your waist, as though she's still trying to pull you in deeper. 

She's panting now, trying to bury her face in your shoulder, but the involuntary moans keep escaping despite her best efforts. Her nails scrape down your back the next time you crook your fingers, hips jerking helplessly against your hand as you work her open, coaxing her closer to the edge with every perfectly timed thrust.

"Yeah, that's it, c'mon." Your own breathing has picked up, coming out in sharp puffs against Nat's temple as she clings to you. "You're already so close, aren't you? I got you. I got you, Nat. C'mon. Come for me."

And, for once in her life, Nat listens the first time she's told to do something. Her orgasm washes over her like the water lapping against your bodies, her heels digging into the backs of your thighs as she tries to hold herself steady. She isn't loud—not that you expected her to be—but she doesn't need to be loud when you can feel her walls clamping around your fingers, her body unable to decide whether to keep your fingers inside or force them out. 

Nat slumps against you after the final tremors leave her body, forehead resting heavy on your shoulder. You don't rush her despite the constant need for movement out here. Instead, you press a gentle kiss to the crown of her head and hold her there, your fingers still curled lazily inside her.

Eventually, she lifts her head (with great effort) and meets your eyes with a lopsided smile. "C'mon. Your turn."

Before you can respond to that, she's already moving, untangling her limbs from around you and dragging you toward the rocky shore with a hunger in her eyes that has nothing to do with the minor starvation starting to set in.

The rocks dig into the backs of your knees as she pushes you gently down onto your back, but you barely register the sharp dig of stones against your skin as she hovers above you, hair wild and eyes wide.

"Y'gonna let me return the favour?" she murmurs, dragging her lips against the hollow of your throat as she speaks. "Or y'gonna be difficult about it?"

Usually, you'd fire back with some sort of fiery remark. Something about how she's being far too cocky for someone who literally just came on your hand—but then there's a loud rustle in the trees.

"—I'm just saying! You could be less of a bitch about it sometimes, Shauna!"

"You can't keep not pitching in! People are noticing, Jackie!"

Nat freezes.

So do you.

There's a beat of dead silence before Nat collapses sideways beside you with a frustrated groan, dragging her forearm over her eyes. "Un-fucking-believable. This goddamn uptight, prudish little bitch and her—"

You have to bite back laughter as you sit up, readjusting your soaked underwear. "You think they saw?"

"No," Nat scoffs, and you swear you can hear her rolling her eyes. "But they're going to. We've got about sixty seconds before they start acting like they invited skinny-dipping."

You lean over and press a quick kiss to her shoulder as she drops her arms from around her eyes, glaring at you heatlessly. "Rain check?"

Her lips twitch upward despite everything, and you wonder what kissing her on dry land would taste like.

"Yeah," she says quietly. "Rain check."

a/n: natalie scatorccio in boxers and a sports bra save me..... natalei scatorcio in a boxers and sports bra sav me........ nataliescatoriucopsaveme

[dixons-sunshine]

Sweetest | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: Wounded and benched from runs for the week, Daryl was asked to watch the kids in the prison while you and some of the others worked on repairing a breach in one of the fences. One of the kids asked Daryl how he met you, his wife, and it made for a rather sweet tale.

Genre: Fluff.

Era: Prison, pre season 4.

Part of the Shopping Spree, Hangout Dreams AU.

Warnings: None.

Word count: 1.6k.

A/n: This turned out worse than I hoped, better than I expected. I don't really know how to explain it, but I hope you like this! (Thank you @ddamm and @dixondystopia for giving me your favourite moments from the entire series to add to this! They were pretty much the same, so great minds truly do think alike, as they say.)

“Mr Dixon?”

At the sound of his name being called, Daryl looked up from his baby girl and locked eyes with a little girl—Mika, he believed her name was—who was staring at him with a big smile. “Yeah?” he replied, slightly bouncing his knee when Hazel began fussing a little.

Mika giggled slightly, sharing a look with her sister, Lizzie, before turning back to the archer. “Mrs Dixon is your wife, right?” she inquired, bouncing slightly on her feet.

Daryl's lips involuntarily twitched up at the mere mention of you. He nodded and shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah? Why do ya ask?”

“Well, my dad likes to talk about how he met my mom. Mr Greene has told us how he met his last wife a million times. We wanna know how you met Mrs Dixon!”

Almost as if for added emphasis, the other children all perked up and voiced their interest in knowing the tale of how Daryl met you, his beautiful wife. The archer, both amused by the children's nosiness and embarrassed by the metaphorical spotlight he was placed under, let out a small scoff and adjusted Hazel in his arms, allowing the small girl to happily toy with his fingers. “It ain't some big love story or nothin'. It'll only bore ya.”

“No, it won't,” Carl added from his position atop one of the tables. The teenager had been sulking because Rick had forbade him from helping fix the breach in the fence—where several walkers had managed to crawl through—but the chance of getting to know some insight to one of the most talked about couples in the prison brightened his mood somewhat. You and Daryl were the only couple that dated back before the outbreak, and everyone was eager to know how the two of you got together, and how you managed to keep that spark alive. “We wanna know. Come on, Daryl. Please.”

Daryl let out a small groan and rolled his eyes at the young Grimes' insistence. “Why dun' y'all go pester Glenn or somebody? M'sure he'd be more than happy to tell y'all 'bout how he met Maggie.”

“But he's told us that story a zillion times already,” one of the kids groaned. “We wanna hear your story. Please, Mr Dixon.”

Daryl let out a deep sigh. From somewhere behind him, he could hear Carol chuckle, closely followed by the chuckles of a few of the adults that were taking a break from their chores around the prison. Daryl shook his head and pursed his lips. “Y'all really wanna hear?” Almost instantly, all of the kids perked up and simultaneously voiced their clear interest, trying to talk over the other. Daryl raised his eyebrows and let out a small chuckle. “Woah, calm down. I ain't sayin' nothin' 'til y'all quiet down.” And just like that, it got so quiet, one could hear a pin drop. “Y/n and I go back many years, long 'fore all'a y'all kids were born. We're closin' in on three decades'a knowin' one another.”

“Thirty years?” Carl voiced in a disbelieving tone. “That's basically forever!”

Daryl chuckled and shrugged. “Guess ya can say tha', yeah.” Daryl shushed Hazel when she began fussing a bit, lightly tickling her stomach to coax a laugh from her. “We met when we were twelve, 'side this river in the woods outside the trailer park we lived in. I admit, I didn't know wha' to think'a her at first. Refused to talk to her fer a whole month, but she never gave up. She kept pesterin' me 'til one day, somethin' happened and I broke my quiet facade. Tha's when we started becomin' friends.” Daryl stopped and tried to hide the smile that spread across his face, but to no avail. “She, uh... She quickly became my best friend after tha'.”

“When did you start love-liking her?” one of the kids asked with a giggle, closely followed by the mischievous laughter of the other kids.

Daryl hummed and shrugged. “After she did somethin' fer my sixteenth birthday. I liked her fer a while 'fore tha', but tha' occasion was my wake-up call. My feelin's fer her slapped me righ' in the face tha' day.” He stopped and let out a small sigh before continuing. “I didn't have the balls to confess to her fer 'nother year after tha'. And when I did confess, it was righ' after we went and bought pa—” Daryl cut himself off, painfully aware of the immature teenage boys that would freak out over the mere mention of pads. Because of that, he altered the truth a little. “...Pasta fer dinner tha' nigh'. Things escalated and we kissed, and then her mom walked in.”

“No,” Beth gasped, slightly tightening her grip on Judith as she thought of the embarrassing scenario.

Daryl chuckled and shrugged. “It was embarrassin' as shi—crap, tha's fer sure, but we lived. Her mom was nice 'bout it all. Definitely didn't mean we could escape her teasin', though.” He pursed his lips as he thought of that moment, the embarrassment still fresh in his mind, even all those years later. “Her teasin' got even worse when Y/n and I eloped. She was kinda upset 'bout it, but she soon went straight back to teasin' us fer not bein' able to wait to have a proper weddin'.”

By that point, unbeknownst to the archer, the group that had been working on fixing the fence—a group that included you—had silently stepped into the part of the prison everyone was in to alert the kids to the fact that they could go play. However, once they heard what the crossbow-wielding man was talking about, they stopped and remained quiet, eager to hear about it all. And you stayed quiet as well, quite shocked that your husband was willingly telling stories about his past with you. He preferred to keep that part of his life private, but there he was, happily talking away. It made your heart swell with love and affection for the man.

“The two of you stayed together for all those years?” Zach—Beth's boyfriend—asked, leaning against the wall. When Daryl nodded, he continued. “How?”

Daryl shrugged and adjusted his daughter in his arms again, feeling her head begin to droop as she was beginning to fall asleep. “I love 'er. And fer some reason I still don't understand 'til this day, she loves me. Ain't tha' hard to stay committed to the person ya love the most. Relationships ain't always all sunshines and rainbows, but when yer with the person ya love, s'all worth it. Y/n taught me tha'. She's the sweetest person ever. I dun' know wha' I did to deserve her, but I thank my lucky stars every day tha' I get to call her mine.”

It went silent after that. The only sound that could be heard was the distant sound of walkers groaning outside the fences. That is, until Rick spoke up from behind the huntsman, startling him and alerting him to the fact that essentially everyone had heard him practically rave about you.

“Well said, brother. Well said,” Rick complimented him, a faint, teasing smile on his face. He turned towards the younger ones in the group and gestured towards the door. “Y'all can go play now. Just stay away from the fences.” And just like that, all the kids—except Carl—had forgotten their need to hear about Daryl's love story with you. They all excitedly darted out the door, their laughter fading as they disappeared out the doors.

Michonne smirked, playfully hitting you on the back. “Y/n, you never told me you found such a keeper. And you found him early on, too. You're so lucky.”

“Yeah, she is,” Carol chipped in, a teasing smile on her face as well. “Did I ever tell you about this one guy in our old camp that insulted her and Daryl instantly put him on his ass? He did accidentally reveal her pregnancy while doing so, but that's besides the point.”

“Was it Shane?” Rick asked, sighing when Carol nodded. “Yeah, of course it was,” he mumbled while he shook his head.

“Not to mention how he nearly killed Jenner because he wouldn't let us out—well, wouldn't let them out. He didn't care much for us back then. We all know he only wanted the doors open so that Y/n was safe,” Glenn piped in.

“Aw,” Michonne cooed teasingly. “That is so sweet, Daryl. You're just a big teddy bear.”

Daryl ducked his head in embarrassment as the others joined in on the teasing as well. He could feel his cheeks flush, and he would've gotten up and bolted from the embarrassing situation, had it not been for the fact that Hazel had just fallen asleep, and he didn't want to wake her.

The feeling of your hand being rested on his shoulder almost instantly made him calm down, your familiar touch bringing a sense of comfort to him. The rest of the group were to busy relaying their favourite moments they had seen between the two of you to notice this interaction, and the archer was glad about that. He was also glad that they couldn't hear what you whispered in his ear, because although Daryl Dixon wasn't a selfish man, the others didn't have to hear these words you clearly meant just for him:

“I'm proud of you. You climbed out of your shell today and did something I know you don't always enjoy doing. You're amazing, Daryl Dixon, and I love you so much.” You placed a soft, tender kiss on his cheek. “You really are the sweetest person ever.”

[writerinthewoods05]

Shadows and Snow Angels

Azriel x Reader, Azriel x child OCs

Chapter 2 - My scars won't heal

Normally when your mate Azriel comes home from the camps and asks you not to get mad it's because he brought home another wounded animal, not a baby boy...

Word count: 1.5k

💔 💘

Series warnings: past emotional abuse, past physical abuse, past emotional trauma, non explicit thoughts of suicide, depression, parental doubt, child abandonment, past child abandonment, brief talk of past pregnancy. no details mentioned, mention of non explicit SA, we die like men. Every chapter will be individually tagged.

If you don't like what your reading click off!

Author's note: ok, so I kinda his a manic a episode and now I'm writing the second chapter literally the minute I posted the first. We'll see how long it will take me to finish this one but if y'all are lucky, maybe we'll get 2 chapters in one day!

Author's note 2: lucky streak gone but at least it'll be on time. I'm gonna try to post a new chapter every Friday, but we'll see how it goes, life's kinda crazy rn.

Chapter warnings: brief talk of child abuse, Azzie is a traumatized baby, this chapter is actually more fluff than angst but still, we die like men.

Rhys opened the door, only in his pajamas with his hair sticking up in random places. It must have been a long night. Nyx just turned two a couple months ago and he was having a horrible time sleeping through the night. Rhys and Feyre took shift but everyone knew that Rhys was the one that usually stayed up with him.

"hey I'm sorry, I know it's late, or well early, but we officially have an emergency." You said while Rhys just glanced between the two of you, it took him a good second to realize that there was suddenly an extra little one with you both. Azriels shadows darted past Rhys's feet to go check if the house was safe.

"yeah come on in, I'll go get Feyre." Rhys stepped aside and let you both in before jogging tiredly up the stairs to get his mate. You quietly sat down on the couch to re adjust the little hat Elain made for Astrid, fixing it to sit on her delicate head better. You chuckled as Rhys's appearance. Who knew that out of get trapped in hell for 50 years, enduring another war and having a baby, it was the baby that finally got him. "Poor high lord."

Azriel was still standing but he seemed to be enjoying bouncing Rhain in his arms, rocking him side to side as his shadows created a Shadowy mobile above them. He chuckled softly at your comment, glance in his brothers direction before looking back to the little boy in his arms. They were practically making heart eyes at eachother, if it wasn't so late at night you might have asked Feyre to paint it.

The way Azriel interacted with children was honestly what drew him to you in the first place and the ease in the way he can calm them makes your heart melt every time. Your mate was always so still and calm so seeing him bouncing and sway your daughter and the same way he does with Rhain now, made your heart soar higher than the stars above.

You were still smiling at your mate when you heard rushed footsteps flying down the stairs. You didn't have to look up to know that Feyre was running to come see the little one. The Shadows flared defensively but calmed at the sight of their high lady.

"OK, WHERE TH-" you shushed her quickly before she woke up all three kids in the house. She was still in her night gown and her hair was tied back messily. "Sorry, where the hell did this little cutie come from!..."

You chuckled as Feyre took Rhain from your mate. He looked skeptical and basically hovered over his sister in-law as she cuddled the baby. The Shadows however, seemed content to huddle around you and Astrid on the couch, completely ignoring their masters anxious behavior.

"Az, would you calm down, she's not gonna drop him." You say barely containing your laughter. He was actually just as overprotective as the day you brought your daughter home. It was adorable.

"Oh my gods! What's his name?!" Feyre squealed quietly and came to settle on the couch next to you. Rhain was babbling softly and grabbed Feyre's finger in his small hand.

"Rhain. His name is Rhain." Azriel said, still standing next to feyre, he's hands twitching at his side, wanting to take Rhain back from her. You shook your head at his antics, he's had this baby in his care for like 2 hours and he's already acting like Mother hen.

"I'm sorry, I know it late and I know that Nyx id having issues sleeping but we don't have anything that will fit him and I decided that this officially classified as an emergency."

"No, don't worry about it at all! Not at all, no! Not at all!" She said less to you as she cooed down at your little boy before actually lifter her gaze to you and responding. "Yeah, absolutely this is an emergency. Come on I'm sure I could spare some jumpers for him, Cauldron knows that Rhys is gonna buy him more anyway."

Feyre stood and tried to walk away with the Rhian still wrapped I her arms but a wall of shadows came to block her from walking away just long enough for Azriel to take him back. Feyre just rolled her eyes and lead you upstairs, muttering jokingly to herself about Azriel being overprotective.

2 hours later you all were back at your own home, azriel settling the baby's down for bed. You had added a temporary separator in the crib just for tonight, you'll have to make a trip to the Palace quarters tomorrow for another one. Your mate had just finished building your daughter's nursery and now you're either gonna have to rearrange everything or finds another room in your home for a second nursery... Wonderful...

Once they were both swaddled, wings and all, they were out like a light before he could flip the switch. You were sitting in bed trying to read and relax but you mind was reeling from the days events. Your mind wandered to Rhain. He was so small, he still had that fresh baby smell. You had tried to explain the smell to Mor one time but she thought you were crazy, must be a mom thing. He was underweight and dehydrated from what you could tell, the poor thing could barely suckle the bottle you had fed him earlier. You were lost in thought, book discarded laying open in your lap, as Azriel came into the room, his footsteps as silently as ever.

"So how much trouble am I in?" Your head snapped up at his voice. 4 years... 4 years you had been together and he still manages to sneak up on you, you'd think you would be better at spotted him now but no. You looked up at him, you eyes locked on him as you pulled yourself from the whirlwind of questions and worries you had gotten lost in. He was leaning forward against the bed frame at the foot of the bed. His Shadows fluttered and flitted out into the room randomly as per usual when it was time for bed. It was interesting, most people thought Azriels Shadows were just extensions of him but in reality, most of them had personalities and curiosity, it was kinda cute to watch them.

"come here..." You opened your arms for him and waited as he quickly shrugged off his leathers and siphons, a few of the Shadows helping him by catching his siphons and placing them on the dresser silently. He sank onto he stomach and into your arms with a sigh. He nuzzled his face into your chest as his wings relaxed and sprawled across the massive bed.

"I'm not upset with you. I mean I would have loved a heads up that we were gonna adopt an infant today but I know that the circumstances were anything but ideal. Trust me I would have been PISSED if I found out you didn't bring him home. You are the most compassionate and empathetic person I've ever known. Thats one of the reasons I love you so much." You smile as you feel every muscle in his body melt under your hands, your fingers working out the knots from his back. He let out a breathy moan when you gently pressed your fingers into the onyx skin at the base of his wings.

"he needed me, and you. Besides your a good mama, if anyone could give him the love he needs it's you..." He lifted himself slightly to settle on top of you better, he's arms wrapping around your waist and his thighs spreading yours a bit more. You took a second to bask in the moment, your fingers tangling and brushing through his hair, a couple of shadows coming to rest on the pillow next to you. You thanked the mother for moments like this. For the times when you both could just hold each other and feel just as loved and seen as if you had spent the night making the house shake.

"Thank you... for understanding, for not being upset. You have every right to be..." azriel mumbled, his voice laced with emotion. He was right, you did have a right to be mad but you weren't. How could you ever be upset with him for being the most loving male in Prythian?! You hugged him tighter and kissed his forehead.

"Do you wanna talk about it? Whatever your thinking about?" You smoothed a hand over his back to try and comfort him. Even though you had been mated for a few years there were still secrets and things he refused to tell you, especially about his excuse of a childhood. You knew the basics, a general idea of how he was treated but he never went into details. You liked to think he wouldn't tell you because he knew you would find his half brothers and rip them to shreds, although You knew in reality it was most likely just to painful to actively try to remember.

"yeah I do, but not tonight. I... we can talk about it tomorrow, I don't want to ruin the night..." He said choosing his words carfully. Azriel easily sat up and flipped you both so you to rest against his side and pulled the covers over you both, the Shadows that had been occupying the pillow previously jumped away I'm a misty puff. You didn't press. You knew he would tell you when he was ready to open up. It made sense, that he past would rear it's ugly head after he brought Rhain home. You left a small kiss on his chest before snuggling into him and letting yourself drift off into your thoughts, the shadows descending over you both is calm wave urging you both into sleep.

Thank you so much for reading and as always I hoped you enjoyed this chapter! If you wanna be added to the tag list please comments or DM me to be added!

Taglist

@romantasyreader28 @tele86 @mulansaucey @jennnsthings @6v6babycheese @mich0731 @starlightandsouls @ohemgeewhat @littlelunatica @icey--stars @paleidiot @jir67 @celestialamore @rcarbo1 @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret @queenoffeysand @suppppp97

[elene78-blog]

Someone said this here not long ago (sorry, I can't find the post), and I agree.

I don't think the championship game will be between the Foxes and the Trojans, but I think they'll play each other and USC will win, advancing to the semifinals or finals.

If you think about it, the Foxes reaching the finals this year would diminish the importance of the titanic battle that took place in the first trilogy, and it wouldn't be very realistic considering that:

A) Neil and Andrew will spend three months recovering. They won't be able to train, which is already a disadvantage in terms of physical condition.

B) There's a major conflict with the new players that prevents the cohesion of last year, and Neil and Andrew being injured will only strengthen these rookies until they are put in their place.

I think maybe losing to USC will be what puts the new Foxes in their place. Seeing the superiority and impeccable teamwork USC displays against them.

I also think that…

A) Despite what Nora said at the EC, the gap between the Trojans and the Foxes will be quite large (I don't think it'll be by just one point, it'll be a few more), which will make the rookies feel down.

B) And this is just my interpretation… I think Jeremy won't play.

I think Jeremy will get injured (or have an accident, or be assaulted by a family member) in the third book and will spend a lot of time on the sidelines. Why do I think this? Because of Jeremy's obvious situation, but also because Nora will want the Trojans-Foxes matchup to be as fair and even as possible, and that can only be achieved if the Trojans have one or two of their key players on the bench. I'm voting for Jeremy.

I think the fair thing for the Trojans would be for them to play without Jeremy against the Foxes. The Foxes just got Neil and Andrew back, and they've barely been able to fully regain their form.

This would also focus interest on Jean vs. Kevin. And also, of course, Jean's final interactions with Neil and Renee. A closure.

I think the finals will be against Penn State, as they said in that post. Why? Well, this team is one of the BIG THREE and they're the second most aggressive team in the league (if I remember correctly). Their game is very aggressive, similar to the Ravens', so the parallels will be obvious. But aside from that, they're also USC's quintessential rival, who have always competed for second and third place, behind the Ravens. Let's think…

The Ravens have fallen. The crown is being contested between USC and Penn State. We know USC wants to win with sportsmanship and their game isn't aggressive, and we also know Penn State plays similarly to the Ravens. Both have been wanting to take the crown from the number 1 team for years, and they finally have a free pass.

Penn State isn't going to play fair. They're going to be brutal. They're going to go on a killing spree and say awful things about Jean and Jeremy to get an advantage. They're going to be like the Ravens or worse to take the crown.

The Penn State players want to be the new Ravens, while the Trojans want to prove that you can win with fair play. If Penn State wins, the "Raven" way will be inherited. If the Trojans win, there will be a "new era" for college leagues where fair play and sportsmanship are appreciated and admired. And not only that.

Imagine what this means for the Flozzies, but more specifically, for Jean and Jeremy, for the entire exy world. People know Jeremy and Jean are queer, and everyone has said awful things about them.

Think about what it would mean for this hypermasculinized sports world if they won after five years, a sport where Jeremy and Jean have suffered so much, after a year that is undoubtedly tough for both of them.

Imagine what it means to establish fair play as a starting point with a gay captain and the "irrecoverable," aggressive, "traitorous," and promiscuous defender (I refuse to use "the other word" with my boyfriend) who supposedly teamed up because they're "degenerates," shutting the world up and blazing a different trail.

Their chances are derived from what the Foxes achieved, but it won't be inferior to their feat (and it could also mean something for Andrew and Neil's relationship, for Nicky, and for some of the players Jeremy was with at the orgy, who were disowned or expelled).

Imagine what it means for Jean when "queers have no place on my court," and here he is. He survived Riko, he won with fair play, no dirty tricks. He survived the Ravens when they committed mass suicide, when everyone thought Jean would be the first to fall. And what would it mean for Jeremy after everything that's happened to his family? My hair stands on end.

The final play has to be between Jeremy and Jean. It's "poetic justice."

[ebonysplendor]

Bruh review the new version of TKaTB bruh because WOWIEEEEEEEEE

I've found that I don't usually do whole reviews on the updated versions of the visual novels I've already written about...but I find it dope that this implies that you lowkey want my unhinged, scatterbrained story telling. Also, big preesh for keeping me straight lol, because, once again, I've been meaning to get around to playing the update, and I just haven't, which is extremely disrespectful. But anyways! I'm yappin' way too early...

TL;DR: HE HIT IT FROM THE BACK. I REPEAT. HE HIT IT FROM THE BACK! ... technically ... we need to have a serious discussion about this thing called "consent", though...

Game Link: https://fantasia-kittcat.itch.io/the-kid-at-the-back-demo

Notable Features: Yandere LI, Custom Pronouns, Self-Insert (first and last name), Two LIs, 1+ Hour Long Demo Spiciness: 2/5 or 8/5 -- Again, it depends on which version you get. If you get the regular degular free version, it'll be more innocent with some flirtiness here and there. If you pay for the NSFW version -- HIGHLY SUGGESTED by the way! -- it'll be way more sinful and the way that the Gods intended it to be. LI Red Flags: 4/5 or 7/5-- Breaking-and-entering, possessive, drugged us, lack of consent, but that "lack of consent" goes even farther in the NSFW version (yes, even farther than in the previous demo) ... but I still can fix him, ya know? Like, that's bae

Wanna know more? If you are not 18+, ABSOLUTELY NOT. You will NOT put this fantastic game in jeopardy, because you're some curious 14-year-old. I honestly don't even want you on my page...but let's be real, are you actually going to listen to me? I hope that you do...ANYWAYS. My 18+ crew, let's get into it!

Almost an entire month with no visual novel review? Nah, we absolutely cannot let that happen.

You know what else we can't let happen? My constant disrespect towards this visual novel. Once AGAIN, the dev(s) ate and left absolutely no crumbs. Like, damn, can you at least leave the plate? Like-- Okay, wait, no, stop. I don't want to get too far into that, because the yap sesh will get kicked off way too early, and I won't have anything for the actual review portion.

That being said, I have done a review of TKATB before, but I'm doing an update of...well, the update. That also being said, because I'm trying to avoid parroting myself too much, the review is going to flow differently. ALSO! Once again, thanks to the bestie, I was able to see the degeneracy LIVE AND IN 4K and biiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitch~! Let me tell-- Wait, no, no, no, stop. Not yet. Later. We'll talk about that later...at least sorta.

Anyways, like always, I'll def try to make this as spoiler friendly as possible, especially since it's lowkey a different game at this point. Like, the dev(s) have added in extra SCENES. We have new CGs! Like...we've got CONTENT in this update, y'all!

Okay, for realsies now. Enough yappin'. Let's get into it, and y'all...there's a lot to get into.

So, effin' BOOM.

...Actually. Let's do this another way, because we already lowkey know the story. Again, if you don't, I made a review of it a few months back that will get you somewhat caught up. This time around, though, let's just talk and vibe. Enjoy some snacks or whatever, ya know?

Go ahead and pick; there's plenty. I've got me, like, three capri suns and some donut holes. Like, I'm really tryna get into this game convo with y'all because we're squad, ya know? So, let's get comfy while gettin' into it.

All right, so -- *big siiiiiiiiiiip* -- my husband Solivan Brugmansia, right? Let's discuss. Not about him being my husband or not, the game. Respectfully, check yourself. Anyways.

My Gods. that is bae right there. Like, gah damn...

For starters -- even though, I can totally fix him, and I want to make that very clear! My baby ain't do nothing entirely wrong! Like just- just give him to me. He is just a lil' traumatized and misunderstood; he is very capable of change. Like, I can fix him! I can! -- it's only fair to remind you that he is, uh, kind've batshit crazy. Now, the wild part is that I for realsies forgot that he is not entirely sane. Like, not even kidding about that.

This experience has been a sort of "Let me seep you into the madness" versus a "Let's make him insane off rip", and because it was like that, when he started doing typical yandere shit, there were -- specifically -- two different times that I experienced genuine shock. It was literally like, "Oh yeeeeeeah. This is a visual novel with a yandere love interest. Solivan's the yandere. He's not wrapped too tight. Ah, yes, I forgot about that factoid", ya know? The shit genuinely caught me off guard.

Anyways, still can't trust the orange juice, 10 is the magic number, and don't kiss Crowe...like ever lmao. You can dismiss the fuck out of that man, but he's lowkey a simp like Sol is, so as soon as you kiss him lmao...

Just remember that it's implied that Sol is, and has always been, keeping a close eye on you. Actually, let me back up a little. Let's talk more abo-- Oh, wait, do you need a refill? Okay, hold on for a second. Wait, are you good on snackies? You know what? I'll just grab everything, just in case.

...

Okay, now, let's talk more about the orange juice.

Never --

-- and I mean NEVER, trust the orange juice.

There was a moment that we got with Sol, and it was like, "...Aw :)", and then, he was like, "I made orange juice~!", and it was like, "...Aw :(". Like, lmaooooo, I thought we were past that, ya know? Like, I obviously like you! I have you at a 10! Why are you resorting to nonphysical violence? I mean, he got physical in other ways, but it wasn't violent, ya know what I'm sayin'~?

Now, the "10" thing that I keep bringing up.

This competition between them is more intense than I thought, bro, and Sol does not cope with failure well. You know how people will be like, "a win is a win"? Well, with Sol --

-- a loss is a loss, even if it's just by one point.

Remember that whole "Don't kiss Crowe" thing? I genuinely mean that. As tempting as it may be -- and believe me, it's tempting especially because...Crowe can really make a girl feel really, really... wanted, ya know?🫦... ANYWAYS -- DO NOT kiss that man, because that's the game point. Now, who's the actual winner in that scenario.... 👀🧃*dramatic siiiiiiiiiip*. I ain't gon' say it...but I'm just sayin' lmao.

Even though, I really ain't shit because...I willingly cheated on Sol with Crowe. WAIT. LET ME EXPLAIN WHY THOUGH.

This man, dear Gods, this man. I must stay focused... This man is the one that you SHOULD be dating. This is the one that all of your friends and your family really like and approve of. This is the healthy choice, but you don't choose him, because the one that you want is "dark and hot and tall and mysterious" and you're like, "but daddy, I love him!". Meanwhile, your friends are desperately trying to tell you about all the red flags with the other guy and are like "What is with you and toxic men?!". Then, when you defend your toxic crush, they shade you because they "should've saw it coming" when you had picked Sesshomaru and Sasuke over Inuyasha and Naruto.

...But, anyways, when I say that Crowe is Prince damned Charming? Babes... And then he let that hair loose????

Baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaabes~!

As a side note, lol I wasn't pulling those descriptions (completely) out of my ass; that was the literal intention.

See? "Dark and mysterious" vs "Princely".

Anyways, Crowe's rizz game is...surprisingly strong? Like, I honestly don't know why I was so shocked, but I was shocked. Like, a girl was genuinely flustered, because what do you mean that "you knew that we were going stargazing but you didn't know the brightest start was going to be right in front of you" and "anything for me"? Not to mention that this man was putting flowers in our hair and carRYING US TO OUR APARTMENT IN THE RAIN? BARELY GRUNTING WHILE DOING SO??? Like, sir, please, don't do this. I have a husband...but it's like, shit, I won't tell if you won't at this point.

That's pretty much all the new stuff -- well, that I was willing to partially spoil for you. There's other stuff, but you definitely gotta see that live and in 4K, and trust me, you're gonna want to.

Once again...THE FATTEST EFFING SHOUTOUT TO WHOEVER SENT THAT ANON MESSAGE AS THEY HAVE PUSHED ME TO STAND ON BUSINESS ONCE MORE.

It is even more beautiful than I remember, and thanks to the bestie, I was able to see my husband in all of his glory LIVE and in 4K. Okay, but I was degenerate throughout this whole post, so let's just put a pause on that and actually review the game properly.

This is still a work of the Gods, and I honestly love the tweaks and additions that were made. From Brittany's personality being tweaked so it reads more as "I swear, I'm not mean; I'm just really bad at talking to people" to Crowe's scenario being way more in depth to getting some more CGs of my husband Sol. The art style is still damned IMMACULATE to look at, and the plot is STILL plotting. Also...he's cute, but I lowkey don't trust Crowe, because why are you so perfect? The dev(s) is/are writing the EFF out of these characters. Like, honestly? Continue to pop off.

I definitely plan to buy my own copy, and I HIGHLY suggest that you do the same. It's honestly just the spicy scenes, so it's not like "Ooh, extra lore!" or anything, but they are honestly so deserving of that monetary support. Not to mention, the NSFW version is what the Gods would have wanted.

Even though, I'm wondering if we'll ever explicitly know Sol's (and definitely Crowe's and Hyugo's[/Geo's]) background. Now, admittedly and as far as I know, this is really the only piece of "lore" that you'll miss if you don't get the NSFW version, because I'm certain that I'm not the only one that's noticed it, but just in case you haven't (and I'm cutting the heck out of this CG because it's very spicy, but I need you guys to see what I'm talking about).

What's up with these bruises? Like, you see that right? But it's not in the other picture, so it's like...? What the eff happened? Like, the reason why I say that is because the second picture happened BEFORE the first picture, so something happened to him, but what? I know that it's implied by some of the things that Sol says and how he responds to stuff and some of his mannerisms that he came from a pretty shitty background, but what exactly and is it ongoing?

But, then again, it's like duh it's ongoing, because he said that "it's the usual" that he deals with...uh...certain situations. Check this out though; in that same breath, he was like "every bruise is worth it". Like...what? That's not-- That's not a normal or healthy thought let alone something you'd actual verbalize. Like, I'm telling you, the dev(s) is/are murdering this visual novel thing. No wonder it's so easy to forget that Sol is a literal walking red flag. I'm more focused on the plot than whether or not he's gonna drug my food.

Also, also, also, I just want to yap really briefly about my favorite CG... screen... UI thingy...that I can't show you. Not because it's a spicy one but because, even though you can probably read between the lines, it'd be, what I feel is, a major spoiler. Just as a slight "pro" tip. That little green heart at the top right of your screen that turns blue when you hover over it?

It leads to that screen with the scale that shows your affinity level for Sol and Crowe. Just...check in on that thing a lot; you may see something interesting. When you do see that interesting thing...please, think of me ಥ‿ಥ Because next to the way that the affinity level is shown altogether, it was my absolute favorite thing about the update. That was done so beautifully. ...Damn, I want to show you all so badly ._.

Anyways, I think my yap session should end here. I've already said it a handful on times, but what's one more time? I highly, highly, HIGHLY recommend this game. It's so good, the art is amazing, the plot is plotting, and so much work and love has gone into this game, and it's STILL only in its demo phase. I suggest donating $5 to have (permanent) access to the NSFW version and/or telling the dev(s), "Hey! Really love your game! I was just wondering if you take human sacrifices? Would that expedite the full release? Anyways! You're doing great, sweetie! <3"; aggressively supportive validation is really the only way to go, because they really are doing more than a damned good job. You should honestly see it for yourself. Here, I'll put the direct link for ya.

I'm yapping again. I'm ending it for realsies now. The biggest preesh for hanging out with me today and getting this far. PLEASE, remember to drink water, don't be dumb, and hope to see you around~!

The Kid at the Back (DEMO)

[libraryofgage]

Harlequin Prince (3)

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually

Debbie and Fester Addams One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One | Two | Three Harley Quinn One | Two | Three (you're here!) 10th Doctor and Rose One | Two Scooby Gang (there are plans for this one lmao, so plz be patient with me orz) Jedidiah and Octavius (from Night at the Museum) One | Two Queen Clarisse Renaldi One | Two | Three Leverage Crew One

So that Suicide Squad Isekai anime huh (it's great, I love it actually)

Anyway, I'll be playing fast and loose with Batman canon so all the batkids can be around at the same time have fun with that cuz I did (also forgive me if anyone is a little too OOC; i'm here for a good time not a long time), and the little flashback bit will continue in the next parts as Steve meets more batkids ^_^

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't UwU

----

Harley drops him off at Wayne Manor just after ten in the morning. She tugs a window open, carries him inside, kisses him on the forehead, and promises to pick him up in a week before climbing back out. Steve watches her until she's past the gate, clutching a Green Lantern plush his mother insisted he carry around because it'll annoy his Uncle Bruce.

Steve glances down at the plush, wishing his mother didn't have to go off on a mission when she'd just gotten out of Arkham two months ago. His wishes won't actually change anything, though, so he might as well make the best of his week with Uncle Bruce.

He turns on his heel, taking in the plain bedroom that will probably become his for the next few days. He holds the Green Lantern plush close and marches to the door, stepping out into the hall and choosing a random direction to walk in.

According to his mother, Wayne Manor can have anywhere between two and ten people staying in it at one time. She told him that Dick would be the most welcoming, if not the most confused, the girls would be the most fun, and Damien would be the most guarded, likely to consider him a threat for his entire stay.

It's just his luck that the first person he runs into is Damien. The other boy drops from the ceiling, blade of his sword glinting in the light as it comes to a stop just against Steve's neck. Steve freezes, glancing down at the sharp edge as Damien says, "Think very carefully before answering. Who are you, and what are you doing in my home?"

Steve looks away from the sword, tilting his head slightly as he shrugs. "I'm Steve. I'm staying here for a week," he says.

Damien's eyes narrow, and he takes a step closer, adjusting his arms so the katana doesn't move. "Says who? Does Father know you're here? Are you a spy sent by my mother?"

"Says my mom. Maybe. No," Steve replies.

A few more seconds pass before Damien hums. "Who's your mother?"

"Harley."

"Quinn?"

"Is there another?"

Slowly, Damien lowers the sword. "I suppose Quinn is somewhat reformed. How old are you?" he asks.

"Almost six."

"So, you're five," Damien says, nodding once. He sheathes his sword, apparently deciding Steve is no threat to him. "That makes me older than you, so you have to do what I say. Consider me your big brother for the week."

"Are you gonna make me hurt myself?"

"No."

"Mom said you wouldn't like me."

"Father said I should try being more trusting and welcoming. You are small and untrained, like a puppy. I could dismember you before you hurt me, which makes you ideal for practicing," Damien explains. He's quiet for a few seconds before getting a slight smirk. "Besides, it will greatly annoy my brothers if you obviously prefer me over them."

"I'm great at pretending as long as we can do fun stuff, too."

"Then we have a deal. You will act like I'm your favorite, and I will make sure you have fun."

Steve considers this, decides Damien is well on his way to actually being Steve's favorite, and steps closer. "Mom said Alfred makes the best cookies. Can we have some?"

"Yes," Damien says, "If you're hungry, then it's my responsibility to feed you as your big brother."

He offers his hand, seeming unsure when Steve takes it, like he isn't used to this kind of contact. Still, he doesn't pull away; he just hesitantly squeezes Steve's hand before leading him down the hall.

----

Not two days ago, Steve was telling himself he'd never set foot in Hawkins High School. Now, after getting the run down on the Upside Down (and holy shit did this place suddenly get a thousand times more interesting), Steve decides he'll just have to brave the brick walls to get Eddie out.

He leans forward on his motorcycle, arms resting on the handlebars as he looks up at the building. There's an American flag waving in the wind, faded paint on the outside, and security so lax it'd be suspicious in Gotham. Steve briefly considers leaving his helmet on, but he settles for placing it on the seat once he's off the motorcycle.

Walking into the school is easy. He doesn't even get stopped by the receptionist at the front desk. She just waves him in without looking up from her book. So, yeah, getting in is easy; figuring out where Eddie is might be a little harder.

He wanders the halls and stops the first student he sees, a girl with short brown hair carrying an unwieldy instrument case in her arms. Steve places his hands on the case and gently pushes down, flashing a grin when he can finally see her face. "Uh, can I help you?" she asks, her tone implying she very much does not want to help him.

"Yeah, I'm looking for someone," Steve says.

Her nose wrinkles slightly in disgust. "Listen, dingus, if this is some kind of pick-up line dare, save it," she says, rolling her eyes. She takes a step back and Steve follows.

"Nope, definitely not," he says, "You're not my type, sorry."

"Excuse me?"

"Well, unless you're not a girl...," he says, voice trailing off and eyebrow raising as he watches her understand his meaning.

She blinks, her shoulders rising some. She glances around, confirms the hallway is still empty, and relaxes. "Word of advice," she says, "don't just say that shit where anyone can hear. People aren't exactly nice about it around here."

Steve flashes a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, I can take care of myself, but thanks. Anyway, still looking for someone."

"Oh, right, uh, what's their name?"

"Eddie Munson. Know him?"

She blinks again, her eyebrows shooting up in slight disbelief. "Yeah, I know him. Whatcha need him for? He doesn't usually sell until after school."

Oh. Steve hums softly, filing away that tidbit of information for later. "Not here to buy. I'm here to take him somewhere fun," he says.

A few seconds pass in which the girl looks at Steve, drops her gaze to the instrument case between them, and then glances around the empty hall. "Well, shit, man, I wanna go somewhere fun, too."

Steve considers her for a moment, trying to figure out the logistics of fitting her and Eddie on his bike. Well, he can just have her sit on the handlebars or something. "Okay, but the instrument won't fit," he tells her.

The grin he gets in return tells him that won't be a problem. "Name's Robin, by the way."

This has to be fate, right?

"Steve. Nice to meetcha, Robin."

Robin's grin gets even wider, and Steve knows they'll be great friends.

---

"Eddie usually sits in a corner," Robin says, standing at the edge of the cafeteria with Steve. It's teeming with life, and Steve hears snippets of conversations that blur into one dull roar that settles over the space. It reminds him of bars in Gotham even more than the actual bars he's visited here in Hawkins.

He can't see into the corners from here, but that doesn't bother him. "Wait here," he says, flashing a grin at Robin before walking to a mostly empty table. He climbs onto it, reaches into one of his jacket's inner pockets, and pulls out an air horn.

Steve waits long enough to see Robin cover her ears before raising the horn in the air and pressing down. It blares through the room, drowning out conversations and forcing people at the surrounding tables to cover their ears. A few more seconds pass before Steve lets up on the horn, grinning widely at the sea of eyes turned towards him.

"I'm looking for Eddie Munson," he says, twirling the air horn in the palm of his hand.

Instead of a verbal answer, he watches as the eyes turn from him to a corner across the room. A few people even duck close to their tables to clear Steve's line of sight, allowing him to see a confused Eddie sitting with his friends.

Steve grins, pockets the air horn, and starts making his way across the cafeteria. He walks on tables, jumps between them, and narrowly avoids stepping on more than one tray along the way. By the time he reaches Eddie's table, most of the students have gone back to their lunches and conversations.

"How's it going, Eds?" Steve asks, crouching in front of Eddie with a grin. He glances at the other boys by him, notes the identical Hellfire Club shirts, and nods in acknowledgement.

"Better now," Eddie says, his startled blink telling Steve he definitely didn't mean to say that out loud.

Steve somehow grins wider. "Wanna make like a banana and split? I've got somewhere fun in mind," he says, popping up from his crouch before hopping off the table and into the narrow space between Eddie's chair and his friend's.

"Dude, really?" one of his friends asks. "We have a session today."

Eddie looks torn at that realization, halfway standing and stuck like that. "That we do, Gare-bear," he says, defeat bringing his shoulders down.

"In that case, consider this a kidnapping," Steve tells them, grabbing Eddie's hand and pulling him up. He wraps his arm around Eddie's shoulders, winks at his friends, and promises, "I'll have him home before six, though."

Eddie's friends exchange glances, and Steve graciously pretends not to notice the puppy dog eyes Eddie aims at them. After a few seconds, one of them stands up, towering over Steve and outweighing him by a good bit. He clears his throat, glances at the other two, and tries to sound intimidating as he says, "Make it five thirty, and no funny business."

Steve nods and offers a mocking two-finger salute. "Yes, sir," he replies, flashing a grin before taking Eddie's bag from his seat and dragging him to where Robin is waiting.

"So, where are you kidnapping me to?" Eddie asks, managing to stick close to Steve despite having to weave through chairs and tables.

"Nothing special, really. Just an abandoned laboratory in the middle of the woods that has a gateway to another dimension filled with faceless monsters. Oh, and Robin's coming, too. Don't worry, though, I won't let you get hurt. "

He glances over to meet Eddie's wide eyes, something warm curling behind his ribs when Eddie finally smiles and whispers under his breath, "Fucking metal."

-----

Tag List (definitely still room, so let me know if you'd like to be tagged!):

@nectandra, @y4r3luv, @just-a-tiny-void, @dotdot-wierdlife

@midwestharpy, @twilitdragoneye, @disrespectedgoatman

@lawrencebshoggoth,

And now, a meme:

[dolliels]

I’VE BECOME THE FIANCÉ OF THE VILLAIN?! pt3

synopsis: going to bed after reading a horribly self indulgent romance novel, you seemed to wake up as an extra of the series. what stories will unfold while on a mission to find a way out?

author’s note: one more chapter to go! and then a prolouge ^_^

[one] [two] [three] [four] [epilogue]

you actually preferred when leona wasn't really talking to you.

maybe seeing each other everyday for two entire months sort of softened both of you guys up, you weren't so sure when leona started actually take an interest in you as a person instead of just leveraging off of you to eat and sleep, and to hide from his family just because 'he didn't feel like going home.' compared to the scary prince of the kingdom you read in the novel, leona was just a lazy bum. you really could not bring yourself to be scared of him.

when you're not at the bookstore, it felt like he was following you everywhere. it was at a certain distance, sure, but he was still right behind you. this had been going on for weeks. actually, why is leona still living at your place?

"this book isn't at the library in the palace" leona said dropping a book on the table.

"what? daphne du maurier? I didn't think the palace would enjoy a story like that. I made sure to put educational stuff only on the shelves."

"you know, it'll be nice if you put some worthwhile books on there. you've been stocking the library the most out of everyone and they're boring as shit."

"sorry." you said quietly. it's not your fault that the books are boring, you've shelved the library once! everything else is for your body's original owner to blame!

"if you go back to the palace, then I could stock up the place with all the interesting, fun novels." you added. if you get yourself invited through, then maybe you could look for a way to go back home. you were desperate.

"say… leona- i mean your highness…" you coughed out your mistake, hoping he didn't hear you.

you poured a cup of hot tea and passed it to him, now pouring your own.

"does the name 'roselia' sound familiar to you?" you pursed your lips as you looked at him stare at the mug.

"no, not really. what are you even talking about?"

"it's nothing. I was just wondering because err… i think it's a pretty name."

leona sipped the cup of tea. most of his scars were nearly faded on his arm, minus the missing patch of skin which was slowly growing back!) which you bandaged a thick cotton pad on.

"actually– no. i do recognize the name."

your eyes shone in eagerness. "oh really?"

"yeah. we have a neighboring kingdom whose princess had that name."

yes! roselia was a princess! this means that she does in fact, exist!

"'had?' what do you mean she 'had' that name?" you asked, cupping your tea to warm your hands. autumn was coming, and the house was a lot chillier than usual. you missed the heater you had in your house back in your world.

"she died from an illness, i think. i dunno, i don't know much about her other than her name."

oh.

roselia is dead? 

wait, so how are you ever meant to go home???

all these transmigration books, the endless research, the praying, the hopes… were you meant to be here forever? is this your life now?

you sipped your tea and sighed deeply, trying to hold back you tears. you missed home.

"hey. you good?'

you looked up. "ah– im sorry, your highness. sniff "I just feel a little down today."

"you look like you're feeling down everyday."

oh, is it that noticeable?

'also, what tea is this?"

"earl grey."

"it's gross."

"you don't like earl grey?!"

sometimes, you realized you found some sort of comfort in leona kingscholar, the guy who thanklessly welcomed himself to your home. maybe the guy wasn't so bad after all. even though he won't go back to the palace, that is.

-

"your highness–"

you walked into your bedroom. after sleeping on the couch for so long, you got so sick of it you set a mattress right beside the bed and promptly told leona to sleep on the ground from now on.

leona refused and kept refusing but when you washed up at the end of the day, you saw him on the mattress, sound asleep. and you finally got to sleep in your own bed after so long. although he kept his side messy.

today, when you walked in, it was neat. and leona was nowhere to see him.

"uhhh prince leona?"

"what."

you jumped and turned around. oh, he's right there. whew.

"do you have a bag I could use?" he asked.

"huh? why?"

"I wanna take some of these books home with me."

"oh? you're finally going back home?"

"yeah. so do you have a bag?"

"I do… but I feel like you're not gonna be able to return it."

leona sighed and put the books back.

"okay. just come back to the palace to stock up."

"i can't go unless i'm requested."

"i'll request for you."

"oh.. okay!"

and then he was gone.

unsurprisingly, leona didn't have anything to take with him, since he came into your store on that very fateful night with empty pockets.

leona started living with you during the first few days you woke up in this world. he lived here throughout two months, so it was a little empty and quiet now that he wasn't here. the house felt so much bigger somehow…?

in a few days time, just like leona promised, you received a request to stock up some books for the library again. this meant you probably had to order a batch, so after some digging and researching and archiving, you made a fat list of books that you think leona would enjoy from what he read during his stay.

you frowned. why were you being so considerate of him?

actually, what was going on at all?!

by the time leona got injured from the book hunting and fighting the dragon, roselia would have found a series of letters he sent to certain people to aid in the assassination of king falena.

king falena originally died trying to save his son whom leona sent out to be killed, so he was anonymously in contact with all sorts of people.

then, when leona found out that roselia saw these letters, he would be wary of her intentions, thinking he must kill her because she will tell somebody about it. but the novel's transmigrated roselia pretended to help him so that she wouldn't die.

leona, already having a slightly altered opinions after roselia secretly helped leona heal from his injuries, hesitantly agrees to let her help him.

and so their love story would begin.

you would've known if leona was secretly sending letters, because you kept track of all the paper being used. (you have different kinds of different quality paper– you decided you never want to run a bookstore if you ever make it back home– too complicated.) and no paper was used without your knowledge.

he mostly slept and read books or followed you around, watching what you're doing.

you sighed. roselia was also dead. she died years ago, apparently, according to leona. so you had no idea how the story was going to go. it was fine at the start– roselia was not present, but leona's plan of murder were still constant, so you could easily keep track. now you felt like you truly existed in this world without any prior knowledge of help, because you had no idea what he would do next.

does leona have no more plans of being a tyrant anymore…? did they all dissipate?

you set out to order a batch of new books for both leona and your own store that afternoon.

-

delivery was taking a while, as per usual.

but once it arrived, you took it upon yourself to take a carriage to the palace as soon as possible.

the blue haired man with the long piece of paper saw you again. he was a lot nicer today.

"hello." he said, smiling.

"hi!" you replied, feeling cheerful. you hadn't realized it now, but you were unconsciously in a hurry to enter the palace as quickly as you can, wanting to take a glimpse of leona, and that oddly made you feel happy today.

"chilly today, huh?" you said, putting the books down.

"yes. and you are quite optimistic."

"i'm just in a good mood today" you replied. the weather was getting cold and you reminded yourself to dress warmer than ever before next time. this will be your first upcoming winter in this kingdom. you wonder if it's winter in your world right now.

"alright, if you say so. heading in now?"

"yup!" you carried a box as you stepped up.

"have a good day, mr…?"

"kifaji."

"well, have a good rest of the day, mr kifaji!"

you hummed to yourself as you walked down the corridors of the palace. last time, you had to carry 5 boxes full of books by yourself, but since today wasn't a day where the royal library really needed a ton of books, it was a pretty manageable box that you could carry easily into the library.

clack, clack, clack

you heard the sound of crisp dress shoes walk against the shiny marble floors. man, you're never gonna get over these floors. your house is full of creaky wooden floorboards and funky rugs everywhere (leona even questioned your taste. it's not your fault the person before you had a weird sense of choice in rugs!)

you put the box down to comfortably open the (very huge) door to the library when you heard shuffling behind.

"oh– your highness! wait- no, you don't need to carry that for me."

leona stood behind you, holding the box of books.

"it's fine. you came all the way here."

"alright…"

it was sort of weird, seeing leona. when he was living with you, he was mostly in 'commoner' attire. clothes you had stashed at the back of your closet, or new ones that you bought (from cheap stores. you weren't bothered to put him in a fancy getup)

although you did see him at the very palace, his wealth or status didn't really register to you because, well, you just recently woke up in this world and were adjusting to it and also because you were too distracted by his face. (you still think he's very handsome)

but now, seeing him, he truly did look like he was a prince. you could tell the clothes he was wearing was made from expensive fabrics. his shoes, you really liked his shoes, had a soft reflective surface that made them look elegant and chic.

as soon as you opened the door, leona carelessly strutted in and placed the box of books on one of the long tables they had placed in the middle of the library. (there are 3 of them)

you walked up to the box and opened it, taking out its contents.

"look, I got the daphne du maurier books that you really liked, your highness!"

you moved a little to the side so leona could join in on the book browsing.

you know, the more you think about it, the more you slowly consider him your friend. a friend? right? technically.

you slowly take out the books one by one telling leona every single book you've brought and what it's about. running a bookstore all day does make you read a lot.

however, leona is mostly silent. he's a quiet person in general, but he was a quieter than he usually would be. especially in a topic of conversation that honestly began with him requesting you to come and talk about it.

"say… y/n."

you look at him. you feel a little uneasy. leona rarely says your name. you're often regarded with a "hey." or a "you." or he just pushes you with his feet because he's not bothered to get up. honestly, he reminded you of your friends back in the real world. which made you appreciate him a whole lot more because while you terribly missed your friends, it was like he filled the void of what you needed to give yourself the push to research more and more about transmigration.

why do you think of him so fondly nowadays?

"yes…?"

"do you like the palace?"

you look down at the book you're currently holding, rubbing your thumb against its gritty texture of its cover. pride and prejudice. you weren't so sure if leona would ever enjoy a regency romance like this, but the way mr. darcy was a smug, prideful little bastard who did not view elizabeth as an equal, but soon came to love her and they had a nice, easy going relationship with each other. you thought it was a lot like how you and leona became 'friends' (you considered him one, you weren't sure if he did the same– why are you so awkward about this?!) but without their romance. yea, no. no romance. nope. just… friendship!

"yeah. i like the palace. who doesn't? this place is beautiful, it's like it's summer all-year round because of how warmly coloured the place is."

leona watched you look at the book.

"would you rather live in the palace, or the house you already live in?"

"hmmm." you had to think hard about this one.

"i guess… a normal person would say the palace. but i think i'd rather continue living at home. it's homey and cozy, it's special. even if it's not as big, it feels lived in and special." that was half a life. you would choose your house, but not for the reasons that you said. sure, it was comfy and nice, but it was so… ugly. especially the rugs. oh god the rugs. it was only because this was the first and only home you've lived in this world, you weren't really adjusted to learn the real estate system here.

"why'd you ask?"

"no reason. i just needed to make a decision."

leona grabbed the book away from your hands, forcing you to turn your entire body towards him when suddenly you felt a wave of heat approach your face, then your lips.

your eyes were still open in surprise, leona's calmly closed. like he had been planning to kiss you a long time ago. it felt like you were breathing a fresh breath of air, you suddenly had a carnal desire to breathe him in as you shakily lifted your arms up to hug his neck. his hand softly went to caress your head. fireworks were exploding inside of you (you weren't sure if fireworks even existed in this universe– but fireworks it was, millions of feelings traversed through you.) your eyes were closed and all your worries washed away. the only thing on your mind was how his lips subtly tasted like honey. you haven't had honey in so long and yet it was the tastiest, most desirable flavor in the world.

ultimately, you had to part lips, as both of you were running out of breath. leona's hand was still gently cupping the back of your head and you were glad he was, you felt dizzy and a little euphoric. your mind want you to calm down, but your body was rushing with so much heat that you wanted to kiss him more.

"and stop calling me your highness. i want you to call me by my name." he said in a breathy voice. you slowly nodded.

"okay. le-o-na." you mouthed his name very carefully against your lips before nearing your face against him and kissing him again.

TO BE CONTINUED...!

a.n: how we liking the series so far i feel like part two lowkey (HIGHKEY) flopped 🙈 also im just name dropping a bunch of gothic authors no idea if leona would like those types of books but since we caught him reading wuthering heights i was like why not keep a consistency

[awhisperofbluevn]

Happy (belated) new year !

Okay, I'm a little late, but we're still in January so it's still time ! Take thie merman drawing as an apology !

To be honest, with all the festivities, I just wanted to take a break with social medias.

With that being said, let me wish you all a happy 2025, and hope it will be a successful year for us all !

Now I think is a great opportunity to make an update about the development and my plans for the game in the future.

It's probably going to be a bit long, so I'll leave the rest under the cut for those who just want to enjoy the merman's face.

I'm going to say it now, but I don't know when the full game will be done.

To be honest, it probably won't be in 2025, as I'm still very much alone to write, program and draw. I don't want to put too much pressure on myself for a first game but I still want something clean in the end.

Honestly, I'd want to make a complex game with different routes depending on the kind of relationship you have with the love interest and the MC's personality, add a million different choices so each player have a different exprience, but I think that's still too complex for me at this moment, so I'll have to lower my ambitions. I can only offer very basic personalization options for the MC and a classic system of affection points. But maybe for a future game when I'll gain experience, who knows...? (yes I do have ideas, but one project at a time)

Now what I can say is that I'm planning two to three big updates in total (excluding small updates to correct bugs and fix typos).

I'm not exactly sure because while I do have the main story in my head, I don't know how long each part will be yet. I'd like to make them at least as long as the current demo, but I'll have to actually write it to know exactly how to divise those parts.

Now, about what I'd like to add/change in the current game :

The menu. If I can, I'd like something more dynamic and less... I don't know. I think it looks too basic.

CGs for bad endings. Not a priority, as I'd rather work on the main route and it's just going to add to my workload, but I still think it'll be nice.

A gallery button. I don't know how to do that yet, but I think it'll be cool for people to see all the CGs and see which ending they didn't get, plus it just makes sense if I add bad ending CGs.

A guide for all endings. Again, not a priority since there's currently not much content, but it will be done when the game will be at a more advanced stage.

Finally, I can't share much for the next update, but I can tell you what to expect !

New characters.

New backgrounds.

New CGs.

And probably more, but I don't want to make promises too quickly.

I don't know when the next update will be exactly, give it a few months.

And that's all I can share with you !

I'll go back to answer asks soon enough, my askbox is still open !

Once again, happy new year to you all !💙

[foone]

The way it works is it's a surgery to make you immune to a bullet.

Note, that's not the same as being immune to bullets. You're only immune to a single shot: if someone shoots you twice, you're dead.

You can take the surgery again, though. The only real limitation is that you gotta wait 2-3 weeks between each time. But if you've got the money and the time, you can be as bulletproof as you want.

It doesn't "refill", by the way. Often when the surgery is explained people think it's like "a bullet a day" or "you can get shot once a year" or whatever. Nope! Once you've been shot it's just like you never had that surgery to begin with. If you want to "refill" that immunity? You have the surgery again.

No, there's no upper limit to how many times you can go, that we know of at least. There's one guy in Florida who has made it "his thing" to get the surgery as often as he can. He's currently up to about 50. Obviously there's some people online who've said they're gonna shoot this guy and lower his "record", just to be countrary.

Anyway I'm sure there'd be people who have even higher numbers (anyone who has "getting shot" as a major occupational risk, ie, politicians, soldiers, cops, and anyone doing any kind of residental survey in rural areas), but they only invented the surgery like three years ago, it's just simple math: you can't do much better than that guy.

The invention of the surgery hasn't done much to decrease gun sales, though. I mean, there's been a slight increase in people buying guns with larger capacity, for what I'd consider obvious reasons.

I did see an article suggesting that in the long run it might end up increasing the sale of guns. See their analysis is that two factors are going to drive up gun ownership:

1. People will be more willing to shoot at trespassers and thieves and such, because it'll be more like a warning shot: if they have some immunity, it won't be murder. So far that hasn't really happened as not that many people have the surgery yet. Although it's spreading fast, only major cities have surgeons trained in it, and often waits for surgery can be months long.

2. Conversely, people are going to be more likely to break in and rob and trespass if they know they can't be shot dead for it, because they got the surgery. There'll be a minor uptick in home invasions and such and this'll cause a big predictable panic among middle class homeowners who are now terrified some hooligan is gonna break into their house to steal their iPads. Thus they go throw money at security systems and cameras and guns.

So who knows at this point. If the cost (in both time and money) comes down, maybe it becomes super common for people to be so effectively invulnerable to guns that there's really no point in owning one?

I do agree with the common consensus that this is going to drive a big increase in crimes committed with knives and such. Why take a risk that your target might be immune?

Which reminds me of another thing to clarify because sometimes people online get this very wrong: it's only for bullets! You are not immune to getting hit by a car or poisoned or set on fire. Don't walk into traffic or anything, jesus.

Oh one last thing: there is a blood test that can tell if you have immunity, but it can't tell how many times you've had the surgery. You gotta figure that out yourself: so ask your doctor, search your emails, something. Every day I'm hearing from healthcare workers saying someone came in to get the blood test and it had to be explained to them that we can't tell how much protection you have: only if it's there or not. And I feel like a fool for having to say this, but REMEMBER to subtract any times you've got shot! (if you have been) Obviously!

EDIT: In light of recent events, people are sharing this post and arguing about it a lot, but let me be clear: grazes and small cuts do not count! The exact dividing line is too complicated to explain here (look up "circulatory shock" on Wikipedia), but basically if you don't end up with a big hole in you, the shot doesn't trigger the immunity.

That's how it works: you could have an ear blown clean off, and you'd still not trigger an immunity. So please stop spreading that idiotic conspiracy theory that a former president didn't have any immunity. You can barely run a high-school without being required to have immunity to hold the position, because what if someone shoots you? Come on! Of course he has immunity.

For all we know he's got some prototype experimental shit they use on president's that got him up to 200 in a couple days. There's endless rumors of the DoD funding billions in black budget items to that sort of thing, because of course. Who wouldn't want a way to make bulletproof soldiers? You don't think the soviets are pouring even more into it?

[missmeinyourbones]

DRANK DRY THE RIVER LETHE

"These days I think I owe my life

To flowers that were left here by my mother,

Ain't that like them, gifting life to you again?

- First Time, Hozier

a/n: trying baby daddy touya, brief mentions of pregnancy, reader is exhausted and dealing w some parental impostor syndrome, reader and baby are referred to as touya's girls

Touya comes home to a crying baby, something that has slowly become the new norm for him.

The fall breeze is uncomfortably chilly now that the sun has long gone down, and he can hear the familiar shrieks and hiccups before he's able to unlock and open the apartment door.

You don't hear him enter over the whines of the baby you cradle and caress in your hold. Touya's met with the back of your head and the sound of your desperate coos as he kicks off his shoes and shrugs off his jacket, making his way over to his girls. His family.

"Hey," he makes it a point to speak before letting his hand come to rest on your lower back. You'd think he'd have mastered how jumpy you are after all this time, but you flinch all the same at the sound of his voice.

He lets the warmth of his touch press up against your skin in an attempt to comfort you, but the second he's able to catch your eye, he knows it'll require a lot more than that to soothe your worries.

From your gaze alone, he can sense your panic almost immediately.

"She won't stop crying," is the first thing you say to him.

It comes out rushed and nervous, like you've been waiting for him to return home for hours. You have been, he knows to be true even though you don't say it.

He winces a bit as he takes in your appearance. You look smaller than he's ever remembered, and perhaps there's a truth to that old saying about not noticing something as it happens right before you, until it's already too late.

Your eyes are dark with exhaustion, his t-shirt swallowing you whole is covered with what he knows to be stains of vomit and spit-up. Your body doesn't stop moving, heels don't stop bouncing softly back and forth as you attempt to soothe your daughter in any way possible.

He doesn't ask how long you've been at this.

The haste returns when you continue, "She's not hungry, I've changed her three times, her temperature is normal, and I hate that I even checked her temperature more than once because she fucking hates it and--"

A calloused palm finds your head, gently brushing the tousled hair behind your ear and trying to rub the tension from behind your neck.

"Hey, hey. Easy."

He tries to console you. His tone is a bit cautious, like he's trying to slowly approach a wild and contaminated animal, but it comforts you all the same.

His heart hurts as he watches you take a shaky inhale, holding it for a brief moment before exhaling it just as uneasily. You're drained.

If this was three months ago, he'd instantly grab your wrist--force you to lay on top of him in bed until you inevitably pass out and succumb to your own exhaustion.

But things are different now, and he's not just in charge of you anymore. He has two girls to take care of, one being a lot more helpless than the other who needs him just as badly right now.

"I don't know what I'm doing wrong," you weakly admit through the tears that sit heavy in the back of your throat.

Nothing, Touya wants to say. He doesn't even think you're capable of doing something that isn't right, but he's self-aware enough to bite his tongue and focus on the task at hand.

His eyes fall to where the bundle of baby still shrieks and sobs against your arms. He slowly reaches to rub a soft finger against her puffy cheek before sighing to himself.

"Don't babies cry for no reason sometimes?" he mumbles.

"She doesn't cry like this for you."

He knows it's the fatigue behind your bite, so he chooses to ignore the harsh comparison.

"Yeah, she does, baby," he calmly breathes. "You're just tired."

Wordlessly, he motions for you to hand your daughter to him, and the pass happens naturally for all three of you. She leaves your arms and enters his without so much of a struggle. And you can't shake the failure that weighs heavy on your shoulders as you watch him gently bounce the baby on his hip, her cries almost immediately softening by being in his mere presence.

It takes all of thirty seconds before she's practically silent, resting on his chest and babbling herself into a calm drowsiness. His hand cradles the back of her head gently, mimicking how it did yours mere moments ago.

The scene before you is all you've ever wanted, and it's finally yours. And you absolutely hate that you feel a sob of exhaustion wrack through your chest, ruining a moment you never thought you'd have.

Touya watches you shrink before him, your eyes on the peaceful scene before you as you choke out a teary, "She hates me."

"Bullshit, c'mere."

He readjusts your baby so she's comfortably supported with one arm, using the other to snake around your shoulders and pull you in with them. You feel his hand flat against your sore back, rubbing gentle circles and pressing you into his warmth.

The three of you stand huddled together, all clinging onto one another in one way or the other. The baby in Touya's hold rests her sock-covered foot on the flat of your arm. You lean into Touya's chest, head right next to your daughter's as he whispers sweet reassurances. You don't need to ask to know they're meant for the both of you.

After a few minutes, Touya pulls away a bit, but only to use both hands to place the baby back in her crib. The transition is easy and she's out cold as she sinks into the tiny mattress pad and sprawls out.

The two of you lean on one another, hovering over the wood to watch her sleep. Her eyelids flicker with movement, her chubby fingers squeezing around nothing every now and then.

Eventually, Touya tiredly whispers into your hair, “I learned all this from you, y'know."

Sniffling with heavy eyes and a confused pout, you weakly turn your head up to look at him in confusion.

Assuming he's talking about parenthood, his words don't make any sense in your fatigued and spiraling mind.

You learned together. He was there in the hospital when the midwives walked you through swaddling and latching and burping. When you'd discovered that your daughter preferred to eat after napping because nursing before made her sick. Watching online tutorials on which bassinet is safest for newborns---Touya was there, for all of it. He didn't learn anything about this from you.

But when he looks down into your watery eyes, through the dark of the nursery and against the shallow breaths of your sleeping daughter, you realize he's not talking about that.

His voice is a mere whisper when he confesses, “Like, how to love her right.”

Sniffling and swollen, you open your mouth to protest, but no words come out. Utterly speechless, you just stare at him a bit dumbly.

Touya fights off a smirk at your uncharacteristic silence, directing his attention back to the sleeping baby once more.

"Wouldn't know how to do this if it wasn't for you, letting me learn how to love you," he admits.

He reaches down into the crib to where she sleeps on her back, arms spread out and upward like she's stretching her tiny limbs. He takes the tips off his fingers and gently rubs her onesie-covered tummy.

“So, when she feels it from me," he whispers, not taking his eyes off of the annoyingly perfect baby before him, "it’s really just an extension of you.”

A moment of silence passes. In the heaviness of the moment, he almost thinks you didn't hear him. But he's proven wrong--something he's learned is often the case with you--when he turns his head to where you wait. Touya sees your eyes and cheeks glistening with newly shed tears, no longer the dried ones from your weariness and anxiety, gleaming up back at him.

He can't help but shake his head and laugh at the soft sight before him, withdrawing his hand from the baby's tummy and wrapping it around your shoulder.

He ushers your head into his chest, muttering a loving, “Alright crybaby, c'mon.”

He lets you sniffle and close your eyes against the cheap cotton of his shirt, letting his own eyes shut and resting his chin atop your head.

Slowly, but all the same, you feel that gentle sting of guilt eventually fade from your lungs with each gentle exhale. With heavy eyes and bad posture, you ground yourself through the senses around you. Touya's skin against yours, the sounds of gentle sighs and sniffles. The baby, the one that you had together, safe in her crib with the sole responsibility of innocently existing.

You don't want to ever forget this, or maybe you do. Half of you wishes you could forget it, just to receive the blessing of experiencing it for the first time all over again.

“Also use my quirk sometimes,” you think you hear muffled into the crown of your skull.

You open your puffy eyes to look up at him, confused.

"What?"

You watch Touya smugly shrug as he brushes the stray and sticky hairs from your clammy forehead. A sly blush creeps up his neck and jaw when he fights off a smile.

"Warm my hand up and put it on her stomach," he admits casually, caressing your soggy cheek, "shuts her right up."

You laugh, wet and pathetic and absolutely enamored by him, "That's cheating, you asshole."

You don't blame her, you think, considering the countless times you've requested the same thing from him. From period cramps to pregnancy pain to just wanting to feel him--maybe it's genetic, having your DNA and craving his warmth simultaneously.

You decide that Touya must be thinking the same thing, because he simply chuckles with you, rubbing your back as you feel the familiar heat of his fingers begin to tingle.

"Yeah, yeah," he kisses your head, "wonder where she learned that from."

[peterparkouryo]

lies between us² | *ੈ✩‧₊˚

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

prompt: You and Peter have been frenemies for as long as you can remember.

warnings: fluff, arguement(s), and banter

word count: 2.2k

part one

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ taglist

Two months. Two months since Peter confessed he had feelings for you and two months since your first date, since you last talked to him. To start with, the tryst went absolutely amazing, for the most part. Peter certainly surprised you. You had not expected someone nearly as incompetent (in your opinion) and naïve as him to be so strong matched about your preferences.

The minute the boy showed up at your door, he thankfully did not bring flowers because you mentioned at one point during your many conversations how cliché the boutonniere is. He, of course respected your thoughts and instead arrived with a bouquet of sticks, which you did not find funny, but Peter swore it was a comical idea he believed would make you smile (it didn't). 

You recommended your first date to be somewhere luxuriated, like a movie date to which he told you happened to be even more maxim than bringing you flowers and woefully you agreed.

So, you two decide on a sandwich from Delmar's second establishment and a walk through Central Park. The first thirty to thirty five minutes of your time was filled with conversations you missed, how hard and pointless school was, and the fact that Peter was Spider-Man. Something you still can't quite believe.

You didn't know the exact way to ask him about his alter ego, nervous to offend him, but thankfully you gathered up the courage and he was more than happy to tell you.

He told you about how he was bit by a radioactive spider on your grade nine field trip to the science centre, and how for the past three years he had been trying to impress the Tony Stark. Peter then told you he never really had an internship with the billionaire, it was just a cover up for his vigilante side. 

You asked questions, he answered and to you, at least for the most part the date was unexceptionally good, until he decided to be more dense than he already was.

'Oh, crap." Peter pulls out his phone from his pocket and glances down at it. You blink in confusion as he turns up the volume and listens to police officers from what you can only assume is a 911 dispatcher app.

"What?" You glance from the phone and narrow your eyes at him, sensing what you already know.

"There's a robbery on sixty fourth avenue.."

You stare at him in confusion, not really understanding if what he was suggesting was actually about to happen, so you sigh and place your hands on your hips.

"And that's your problem because?"

"I mean, I am Spider-Man, so."

You huff and roll your eyes at his stupidity.

"The police can handle it." You suggest and Peter frowns as if you just recommended the boy donate his blood.

"They won't come fast enough." He insists and tucks his phone back into his pocket.

The boy cropped up this dogmatic counsel to ditch you on your first ever rendezvous to stop a bank robbery that can easily be terminated by the police, given it was their job to do, not his. You sensed a common amount of fury climb through your body.

"So, you're suggesting that I let you leave while we're on a date that you asked me on?" You tilt your head in confusion and watch Peter press his lips into a thin line, a greater than sum of thoughts dispute through his eyes.

He contemplated your question for some time before he nods slowly.

"I'll come back, it'll take ten minutes or less. Bank robberies are my speciality." The boy offers you a smile and you roll your eyes, in spite of your inner torment, you sigh.

"Fine, ten minutes or less. If it eleven minutes or more I will consider this the worst first date ever." You point to him and Peter smiles as you agree to let him escape to his mission.

"I'll be back in ten, promise."

You nod silently and observe him turning away from you and exiting the park.

You had no idea why you believed him, because eleven minutes, twelve and eventually an hour had past. You gave up the hope he was coming back. Embarrassed by your reliance, you walk of shame your way back home.

What was even more disappointing was the fact he had not reached out to you that entire night after his failed promise, so you swore to yourself to declare the date with him the worst one you have ever experienced, no matter how terrible future ones may be.

-

"Boys are idiots, that's why I date girls." MJ shrugs and pops a chip into her mouth, the noisy cafeteria being a familiar background to your ears.

You told Michelle a sugarcoated version of Peter standing you up on your first date, still being respectful about his secret identity even if you hated everything about him in the moment.

"I should have never agreed on that date." You cross your arms as the girl raises her eyebrow.

"It's not the end of the world." Michelle reassures.

You start to wonder which side she was even on.

"Yes it is." You argue.

The brown haired girl sighs and sits up. "Okay, so what if Peter stood you up on your first date—"

"Ever." You interrupt to add.

She narrows her eyes. "On your first date ever." You nod at the correction.

"The best part of this whole conflict is you got a free sandwich."

You furrow your eyebrows at her insensible words, despite it being true, was not the wisdom you were searching for.

"Whatever, it's very humiliating to have a like slash dislike relationship with someone and agree to go on a date with him, only for the boy to turn around and stand me up. He didn't even apologize." You explain, your anger bubbling up at the memories.

"It's been two months and you're now just telling me this." She points out and you glare at her.

"I was still in disbelief and that isn't the point."

"You're right." Michelle nods. "The point is that you need to stop avoiding him and talk to him. I'm sure he has done everything in his power to apologize."

MJ is absolutely right. For the past two months, Peter went out his way to talk to you, apologize, and get your attention. Being the stubborn person you are, you ignore his attempts and steer clear of the spider boy the best you can. In your eyes, it was justified (maybe slightly unfair), because you were not the kind of individual to easily forgive. Especially when the reason for your obstinacy only started due to the certainty Peter stood you up to cease a misdeed that could've been done by the police department. Not only did he leave you longer than he promised, he made no effort that same night to explain why it took him more than an hour.

Instead he waited seventy two hours later to approach you, and you knew you were worth more than a three day later apology. 

As the weeks passed, he never sought to give up his efforts which may have been just a tiny bit admirably but also terribly annoying.

"No." You shake your head, Michelle sighs as she glances behind you.

"Well, better find a hiding place quick, your knight in shining armour is coming this way." 

You quickly turn around to see what she was talking about and you see Peter with a weary determined look, coming your way and you stand up as swiftly as you can, unfortunately not fast enough to escape him as he catches your arm with a gentle grip, but still firm enough to make sure you can't run away.

You look at MJ for help and she pretends to not see you.

"Wait." Peter pleads and you shake your head at your so called best friend and side eye the boy, not in the right headspace to officially face him after two months of avoidance.

"Can I talk to you, please?" You feel Peter's hand withdraw from your arm, examining you carefully.

Notwithstanding your urge to say no, and to leave you alone, you narrow your eyes and huff out a flatten sigh. 

"Fine," You cross your arms as Peter looks around nervously before clearing his throat. 

"Not...not here." He shakes his head.

You glance around the cafeteria, the bustling noise of students undeniably obnoxious. Certainly, you sensed Peter's hesitation to want to converse with you in such a wildly known public place that tends to shape commotion. 

Sharing one last look at MJ, you gesture for the boy to lead the way.

Peter guides to the hallway outside the cafeteria, placing his hands into his pocket. It's not lost on you how nervous he is. You could not understand why the boy was practically shaking in nerves considering when it came to you, he always seemed so sure and somewhat, maybe slightly confident. There was banter, teasing and harmless insults through the time you've known him.

However, recently, Peter's endurance struggled.

"I haven't seen you in two months." Is the first thing he says to you and it takes you a minute to fall back down to earth.

"I wonder why." You raise an eyebrow in defence.

"I didn't ditch you on purpose."

"You didn't explain why either."

Peter immediately presses his lips together, his hand running through his hair in frustration. 

A few seconds of silence goes by and he sighs. You can see the wheels turning in his brain as he tries to come up with an answer, an explanation even.

"I know and I'm sorry. I got distracted and its not like I forgot or anything. May found out and it got really messy--" You hold up your hand and immediately he snaps his mouth shut.

"What do you mean she "found out?" You blink in confusion as he raises his eyebrow at your question.

"That I'm," Peter glances around, presumably to make sure no one hears before looking back at you. "Y'know, that I'm Spider-Man."

Your eyes widen in surprise at his admission, the sudden guilt overwhelming your thoughts. Had you known your every so often 'friend' was going through such a thorny conflict, you probably wouldn't be half as mad as you've been the last few months.

If only he had told you.

"Why couldn't you tell me that? I might've like, supported you through it or something." 

You're not really sure if there was anything you could've done, but what you are sure about is Peter coming to you for any sort of comfort might he needed.

"I'm sure." Peter nods and steps closer to you. "You have to believe me, that I didn't mean to ditch you and I realize I probably should've tried a little harder to talk to you after our date." He admits and you can't help but smile slightly at his words.

A part of you (mostly your head) tells you to hold him a bit more accountable, to expand his defence. Your heart however, remembered Peter Parker has always been the sweet, remorseful, boy next door friend(ish) you've known for years. 

And if you've learned anything from your on and off again friendship, you know when he's sorry, he really means it.

After much debate, positives and negatives, you were willing to forgive him, one last time.

"Alright, you've convinced me." You say as you cross your arms.

"Convinced you to what?" Peter furrows his eyebrows at your albeit, vague submit. 

"Forgive you. Obviously you suck at excuses, so I'm willing to forgive you one last time." You explain, watching Peter nod with hesitation. 

Yet another beat of silence occupies the air and you press your lips together, having nothing else to say. You've done your part of forgiven, now it's his turn to accept it.

"Perfect." Peter smiles at your mercy, quickly hugging you.

You flutter somewhat and your arms instinctively hug him back. The new, yet familiar warmth evades a gloomy outlook and you find yourself wanting to embrace him no matter the circumstance.

Atlas, reality returns as Peter pulls away from you slowly.

"Does this mean we're friends again? Like again for a long time?" He gazes at you with the most puppy eyed stare you've ever seen and you have to look down in fear you might not have much control left.

"Yeah, I guess we can be friends without the enemies part." You reassure, glancing at Peter as he smiles.

"That's good to know. Maybe down the road you can..." He pauses for a moment and you notice he bites the inside of his cheek.

"Be my girlfriend."

Your heart jumps at his words and your eyes might seem as if they're about to jump out of your socket. 

"What?"

"Huh? I'm kidding." Peter laughs and you frown before glaring at him.

You didn't find pulling at your heartstrings humorous.

"We can start very slow, no rush. I'm just glad we're friends again."

The lunch bell rings, a flock of students rush out of the cafeteria, chattering and what not overtakes the comfortable atmosphere as you stare at him.

"I thought you liked me?" You blurt as you tilt your head.

Peter blinks before nodding, "I mean, I do, but it's been two months since we last spoke, so it would be kind of weird to...jump into something."

You sigh, not wanting to verbally agree with his statement.

"Friends." You hold out your hand.

"Friends, for now." Peter shakes your hand with a smile.

The familiar comfort returns and Peter offers to walk you to class, which you of course accept.

taglist: @victoriousskylar @ietss @astrogirl0666 @hahehhwjavaja @superlegend216 @b4tm4nn @imawhoreforu @sunsettee @myfangirlinessononeblog

[sporadicthingcollection]

The Unskinny Bop (Buggy the Clown x F!Reader)

Summary: You're a really good cook and that's most of the problem. The rest of it is that he's too weak-willed to resist a treat right in front of him. Pairing: Buggy the Clown x F!Reader Rating: 🌶 Explicit 🌶 Word Count: ~6.1k Warnings: Body insecurity (male and female), cunnilingus, masturbation, PiV sex A/N: Dad Bod Buggy my beloved

---

She's playing all night And the music's all right Mama's got a squeeze box And Daddy never sleeps at night

---

It's his own damn fault, really.

He's the one who charmed the pretty diner cook — that’d be you — into joining his crew. It was an easy sell. You get off of the little podunk island you’re stuck on and he gets those delicious little puffy pastry things every morning.

What he didn’t expect was how well you made everything else. He's had to let his pants out three times in two months because of it.

Fluffy pancakes, perfectly slung hash, and a pie-looking thing with eggs and vegetables and cheese you called a “keesh” for breakfast. Sandwiches stuffed with veggies and meat, piles of pasta tossed in rich sauce, and thick slabs of juicy steak for dinner. Not to mention the mountains of snacks and treats in between.

He came to realize that food is a key aspect of your personality. It's just what you do. A dog chases its tail, Richie pushes things off of tables, and you flit around the deck like a pastry pixie, abducting people into the galley for taste-testing. 

Like right now.

His only warning that you're coming is a chirped “Captain!” before he's yanked through the door. He doesn't even have time to react before you've shoved a spoonful of something into his mouth.

He's not surprised. You do it to everyone who walks in. Food is how you show affection.

“Whaddya think?” you ask.

He swallows it too quickly to make a judgment, but it's sweet and that's all he needs to know. “Tasty.”

Every time you smile, he swears a flashbulb goes off somewhere. “Good,” you say. “It'll be even better tomorrow.”

He doesn't even bother to hide the whine. “What?”

“They're icebox pies, silly goose,” you say. “You gotta let ‘em chill.”

Another thing about you is that you're a tease. Form-fitting blouses done up just a button too short and your hair pulled back to show off your soft shoulders. A sweet little wink and a touch of the shoulder as you place a plate in front of him. And now feeding him something delicious only to tell him he has to wait until tomorrow to have more.

Your fingers snapping in front of his face jolt him back to the present. “Huh?”

“I asked if you wanted to lick the spoon,” you say.

Does he wanna lick the spoon? What kind of question is that? He plucks it from your hands. “Is the sky blue? Do bears shit in the woods? Am I the captain?”

You roll your eyes, but you smile. “Gonna stick these in the big cooler and I'll be right back for the other,” you say.

Carefully, you pick up two of the three foil-covered pie tins resting on the counter and turn on your heel.

He watches you closely as you round the corner and out of sight. Such a nice soft ass you've got. He desperately wants to grab it, but the one time you got goosed, you slugged the guy so hard he was out cold for the rest of the day.

Something pink, creamy, and flecked with seeds coats the wooden spoon. He drags his tongue along the back of it and--

Oh. Oh, that is good.

His taste buds scream in ecstasy. The slightest little moan escapes his lips. For the briefest of moments, he thinks it's better than sex and his cock twitches, but he regains his sense of self before going completely mad.

He licks and licks and licks until every little drop of pink, sweet, creamy filling is gone.

Frustration bubbles in his chest. Waiting all night for this is gonna suck. Especially since you probably won't be whipping it out for breakfast.

He is captain, though. He could order you to give it to him. But you'd almost certainly laugh in his face and he really, really doesn't want that.

The shimmer of foil catches his eye. The third pie sits on the counter. Untouched. Uneaten. Mocking him in its creamy deliciousness.

He looks around. You're nowhere to be seen.

...maybe just a little bit.

He scrapes barely half a spoonful from the top. Not enough to be noticeable, just enough to satisfy his sweet tooth.

Mmm. Smooth. Thick. Sweet. Fruity. Delicious.

...a little bit more can't hurt. Then he can wait until tomorrow.

He gets a piece of the fruit itself this time and the squirt of juice on his tongue is enough to make him spoon up another dollop. And then another. And then another.

This is why your pants are so tight, his inner monologue chides. This is why you need a new belt. This is why you wear that thing around your waist. Goddamn hedonist.

They're not that tight, he retorts. And they wouldn't be at all if you weren't such a damn good cook. It's all your fault for putting delicious food in front of him and looking so pretty while doing it.

He turns to lean against the counter, only to stop dead.

You're standing there, eyes wide and brows raised. You point at him, then at the pie tin, then back at him. “Are you... Eating the...?”

“No,” he says quickly. He realizes he's holding the pie tin. “No.”

Something odd glints in your eyes as you approach him. Gingerly, you take the pie and the spoon from his hands. He lets you. You step even closer.

You're so close to him, close enough for him to feel the rise and fall of your breasts. Hell, you're so short compared to him that he can see straight down your shirt.

His heart races. What are you going to do? Throw it out? Throw him out? Punch his lights out? Never speak of this again? 

To his amazement, you do none of those things. Instead, you spoon up a bit more of the pie filling and raise it to his lips. You blink up at him with big doe eyes.

He looks between you and the spoon a few times. This can't be right. You should be furious. He opens his mouth to say something, but it's forgotten as you shove the spoon in his mouth.

Why are strawberries so delicious? Why is he so weak? Why are your breasts so warm and squishy against him?

He swallows it and, as he opens his mouth to breath, you shove another spoonful in. It's just as good the twentieth time.

You offer him another. And another. And another. He accepts them all.

Until he goes to take another and you pull it away. He frowns at you. You pull it back farther and farther. He grabs your wrist and pulls your hand closer. You resist, but he's spent every day of his life trimming sails and hauling cargo.

He gets the spoon into his mouth and claims his prize with a smirk.

That glint in your eyes turns into a blaze. You drop the pie tin and spoon and they hit the floor with a clatter. Pulling your wrist from his grip, you grab him by the cheeks and yank him into a kiss.

He yelps against your lips and you take the opportunity to shove your tongue between them. Licking, lapping, pressing your soft, warm body right up against his.

Only a eunuch could resist this.

He kisses you back with the same fervor, grabbing your ass to lift you up a bit and it's so soft and pliant and perfect that he can't help but dig his fingers in.

Oh, it's everything he dreamed it would be. Your warm lips moving against his, your slick tongue dancing in his mouth, your soft palms gripping his jaw.

You've lapped up all the lingering sweetness in his mouth by the time he runs out of breath. He pushes you away and you whimper, your eyes wide and your shoulders heaving up and down.

Deprived of oxygen, he says something completely, absolutely, utterly brain dead. “Can I touch your tits?”

Instead of slapping him, you nod so hard your updo shakes loose. Curly strands fall in your face.

He blinks. “Wait, really?” You nod harder. “You sure?”

Something in you snaps. He can see it in your eyes. You grab him by the hand and damn near drag him out the door.

A quick trip up the stairs and across the main deck and he's pushing open the door to his quarters. You bustle past him and, once the click of the lock sounds, you grab him by the collar and yank him into another kiss, just as wet and desperate as the last.

He barely has enough time to shuck his coat about you throw him onto the bed, clambering atop him. You're a bit heavier than he expects. Not that he says that to your face, but you’re so light on your feet that he was starting to think you were filled with cotton candy. You're certainly sweet enough.

You yank his hat from his head and toss it aside. His bandana follows and his hair falls around his shoulders.

You suck in a breath. “So pretty.”

He shrugs. “Thanks-- mmph.”

He’s silenced by you standing on your knees to pull his hair out of its pigtails. This requires you to stick your tits in his face and oh my god they're like big marshmallows you smell like cinnamon.

He can't help himself. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you in closer, breathing deeply. So warm, so soft.

You giggle and the vibration makes his face tingle. You pull away to fiddle with your blouse buttons. “Wanna know a secret?” you whisper.

“Is the secret boobs?” Wow, what the hell was that? He needs to stop talking.

Lucky for him, you grin. You open your blouse and a whole lot more than he was expecting spills out. You toss the blouse to the side and plant your hands on your hips. “Va-va-voom.”

He's speechless. Shaken. Struck utterly dumb by the sight before him. All he can do is pull off his gloves and take them in his hands, pushing them, weighing them, squeezing them. There’s just… so much. Round, squishy, bouncy, threatening to surge right out of your lacy bra.

“I am but one man,” he mumbles.

That makes you giggle and that makes them jiggle. Like two sacks of...like a pair of...

...he can't think of a metaphor that isn't unpleasant, so he just sticks his face in there again before something else stupid comes out of his mouth. You laugh even more and it vibrates against his cheeks and his -- that... -- and if God struck him down at this very second he would die a happy man.

You let him linger a moment before throwing your weight forward to push him onto the bed. He whimpers like a kicked puppy as you pull away.

You nibble your lip and knit your brow up as you fumble with his belt. “I showed you mine, now you show me yours.”

He's flattered, but it's the only thing keeping his stomach in check. That can't come off yet.

He takes your hands in his own. “What's the rush, beautiful?” he says. He brings them to his lips, first one, then the other. He gently kisses your knuckles, your palms, your wrists. “This is your show. We got all night.”

You're cute when you huff. You're even cuter when your face screws up into a pout. You yank your hands away and plant them on your soft hips. “Do you have any idea how long I've been waiting for this?” you whine.

That throws him for a loop and a half. You've wanted him too? Someone as clever and cute and talented as you wanted... him? He's not used to that. Not used to that at all.

He's stunned just long enough for you to get his belt open. You move on to his vest straps next, making quick work of those. He sucks his stomach in just as you pull it open.

Your eyes widen, and you break into a grin as they sweep up and down his torso. “Oh, hell-o,” you say, voice breathless.

He's bright red, he just knows it. “Hi,” he replies dumbly. He hopes the strain in his voice isn't too obvious.

You grin even wider. Your fingers ghost up his sides -- thank God it's his feet that are ticklish -- right up to his pecs. You give them a squeeze, not unlike how he palmed your breasts a few moments ago. The slightest of squeaks escapes him.

“I knew you were hiding something good,” you say. You give his nipples a tweak -- he squeaks louder -- and trail your fingers down to his waistband. “Let's see what else you've been keeping from me.”

He knows you're talking about his dick. He panics all the same.

He shoots a hand out to kill the light -- that should buy him some time -- and throws his weight into flipping you over. You squeal as he pins you to the bed and yanks your pants off.

And then he realizes. Your breasts? They're proportional.

Beneath him is the most lovely expanse of body he's ever seen. Soft and warm and squishy and made of convex curves that flow from gentle arms and smooth shoulders right into a pair of plump hips and shapely thighs.

He can't form words. He can't form thoughts. All he can do is stare with his mouth dropped open. What else can you do when you're in the presence of the divine?

And then he sees your face. Your eyes wide and unsure as they dart around the room. Your lips pressed together into a terse line. 

“What?” he asks.

The line scrunches to the side. “I'm bigger than I ought to be, I know,” you say. You sound as if you've said it a thousand times.

He gets mad. He can't help it. It's what he does. “Are you shitting me?”

You flinch a little, though more out of surprise than fear. “N-No, I don't--”

He wants to say so many things. About how this is perfection. About how you are the most gorgeous human being he's ever laid eyes on. About how this is everything he's ever wanted in life. How you're everything and you shouldn't be so damn sheepish.

But he can't get it out. All that comes out is a raspy, rude, “Shut the fuck up.”

You stare at him in shock. And not the fun shock. It's the kind where you're not sure if you've stepped on eggshells or not.

Fuck it. No time for words. He grabs your thighs and pulls you forward, yanking your panties off and sweet holy shit you don't shave down there how could you possibly be any more perfect?

His mouth waters. His cock throbs. He dives in. He drags his tongue up your inner thighs, soft and smooth and sweet as that pie.

“Captain--!” A nip to the tender flesh turns the exclamation into a squeak.

“I said shut up,” he says between kisses.

Finally, you stop talking. You only pant and moan as he shoves his face into your pussy, lapping at your already sopping cunt. Did he do this? Are you this wet because of him?

He can't help it. He stuffs his hand down the front of his pants to fondle himself. Like the desperate bastard he is, his cock’s hard and leaking already.

He grinds against his palm as he gorges himself on you. Licking, sucking, swirling, punctuating with a few nips for good measure. It's all harmonized by the most beautiful sounds he's ever heard flowing from your lips, high-pitched and whiny.

He's not sure how long has passed when you grab his head and push him away. Time flows strangely between your thighs.

You've got a crazed look in your eyes again. “I want you inside me.”

He wants to say something clever, something cool and on brand for him, like it's not time for the finale yet or but my leading lady isn't satisfied.

But that would delay being inside you and he's too addled to think of anything. He jumps to his feet and wriggles out of his trousers and shorts. If he were more aware of himself, he'd be humiliated by just how much he has to shimmy and dance around to get them off his hips, but there's not enough blood in his brain to be self-conscious.

He kicks them away in whatever direction. Something crashes to the floor and he doesn't care. He looks back to your beautiful face--

You're wide-eyed as you look at him. He follows your gaze, right down to his--

In all the excitement, he's not sucking it in anymore.

Now it's his turn to be sheepish. He sucks it in again. But he can't hold it. Too much blood in his cock. He tries again with the same result.

Unfortunately for him, it's drawn your attention even more. Off comes your bra, and you don't take your eyes off his stomach the whole time.

Now he really can't think anymore. They're just so pretty and perfect. You're so pretty and perfect. He doesn't deserve this. This is a hell of a mismatch if ever there was one. You, divinity in the flesh. Him, a fat, dirty old clown.

This is a joke. It has to be. Someone put you up to this and now you're gonna back out and he's gonna let you because you deserve better so he better just rip the bandage off now and--

“Out,” he spits. “Get out.”

You blink at him in shock, then your face hardens. You speak with the firmness of a queen who's sick of her courtiers’ bullshit. “Get over here and get on top of me.”

You're mocking him. You gotta be. There’s no other explanation. “I said--”

You look him in the eyes. Something dangerous glitters there. “Buggy, get the fuck on top of me.”

It comes out at a hoarse yell. “Stop mocking me!”

You spring upwards and, with that wild strength that surprises him every time, you throw him on the bed. It squeaks as he bounces -- actually, that might have come from him.

You've got a look on your face he can only describe as murderous. “I did not wait two months for you to chicken out,” you say. You clamber onto him. “I did not wait two fucking months for you to finally man up and say something only for you to get self-conscious!”

Fear, anger, and arousal battle for control of his body. Arousal wins. You are hot as a griddle when you're mad.

You sit yourself on his belly, just above his cock. It twitches against your ass and he's sure it's made of clouds and he groans.

“Look at me,” you say.

He doesn't. He can't. He doesn't want to see the scorn that's surely in your eyes.

You learn forward and grab his chin, squeezing his cheeks and forcing him to look. Even in the dim light, he can see the sheen of sweat on your face and the rise and fall of your chest as you pant.

“If you want me to leave, I will,” you say, “but you will never get this chance again.”

No. No no no no. He wants you. He wants you so bad. He's never had perfection this close and it's never wanted him as much as you seem to.

“Do you want me to leave?” you ask firmly.

He shakes his head so hard it hurts.

You don't grin. You simply release his chin and lift yourself up. You lower yourself on his cock and, as he watches it disappear, inch by slick inch into your hot, wet pussy, the battle is over.

He doesn't care if this is a trick anymore. He's going to get his.

He grabs your thighs and pulls you down onto him, fingers sinking into the smooth flesh. You gasp as he bottoms out, gripping the swell of his hips. He doesn't care. They're called love handles for a reason.

And then you start to bounce.

It starts in your legs. Pumping your thighs to lift yourself up and drop down onto his cock. The jolt ripples through your whole body, from your thighs to your belly to your breasts.

He's transfixed. So transfixed that he doesn't even notice you grabbing his pecs, squishing and squashing them between your gentle fingers. You tweak his nipples and he damn near howls.

He can't let you have all the fun. He pops his hand off to swirl his fingers around your clit.

But you don't cry out or moan. You start babbling. Something about eating and how hot he is and how much you love that he loves your cooking and it's all interspersed with pleasant-sounding gibberish. But he doesn't hear a word of it. You're too warm and slick and it goes in one ear and it the other.

But the sounds. God, the sounds of him sliding in and out of you. Wet and disgusting and it makes his mouth water and his cock leak and that just makes it wetter--

The slap of skin on skin and wet on wet and his moans and your chattering all mingle into a delicious symphony. 

But it stops all too soon. Your breath hitches and you bend at the waist, singing his name like a songbird, the same little melody over and over. “Buggy, Buggy, Buggy...!”

His name dissolves into little yips and gasps as your cunt flutters around his cock. It's so good. Better than treasure. Better than adrenaline. Better than a full belly after a hard day's work--

He realizes he's not wearing a condom. Fuck. “Where ya want it?” he grunts.

You don't hesitate. “In me,” you say between gasps.

In you? Inside you? Spilling his hot, wet cum into your hot, wet cunt? Your cunt? Soaking it? Seeding it? Making it even messier and sloppier and filling you up so much that--

He almost pops right then and there, but he bites his lip. “Nuh-uh. Where?”

“In me!” you spit.

He whines the most unmanly of whines. He will. He won't. He wants to. He can't. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Captain,” you whimper, “Buggy, please...”

He looks up at you. Your hands on his chest, your breasts heaving with each breath, your little belly rising and falling, your luscious thighs on either side of his hips, your lips dropped open as you pant, your bush surrounding his fingers--

God damn it.

He throws you to the side as he pops like a champagne cork. A few drops end up on you, but most of it splatters onto the underside of his belly, where it's started obeying gravity.

One hand grips the sheets and the other grips something warm and his hips buck and his head swims and his mouth makes utterly pathetic noises. Yes yes yes yes yes yes yes.

He crashes back to earth like a meteor strike. All he can see is white as he flops back onto the mattress, gasping for breath.

He has no idea how long it takes for him to recover. But something soft tickles the knuckles of his detached hand. A shudder racks him as he turns his head towards you.

Post-orgasm haze still clouds your eyes, but they're big and round as a doe’s as you cradle his hand close to his face. You press your lips to his knuckles.

He gives a weak smile. “Hi.”

You giggle. God, he loves that giggle. He wishes he could hear it every day. He'd put it in a sea shell if he could, carry it around in his pocket and press it to his ear whenever he feels lonely. Or spin it into cotton candy. It's certainly light and sweet enough. Or whip it up onto a foam and fold it into batter like he watched you do that one time for cake...

His stomach growls. He needs to stop thinking about food.

You kiss his knuckles again, still smiling so very sweetly. “Are you alright?”

“Fuckin’ amazing,” he mumbles. It's the truth.

Detaching his other hand, he feels around on the floor. There's a towel here somewhere... Unless he threw it on the chair... Or over the folding screen...

He finds it slung over the door of his wardrobe. He offers it to you, but you shake your head. “After you.”

Suit yourself. He mops his belly up as you watch. Shit, this was a big one.

Satisfied, he tosses the towel away. He rolls over to take you in his arms, but he finds nothing. You're standing up, pulling his coat on and closing it around your front.

“Get over here,” he says. “That's an order.”

“I gotta clean up,” you say.

He panics. He can't help it. His voice quivers like a child's. “Don’t leave. Please.”

You give him a kind look that almost makes him cry. “I’ll be right back,” you coo. “I promise.”

He doesn't want to be alone. Not now. Tears prick at his eyes and his lip quivers. But you're out the door before he can stop you.

You're not coming back. He knows it. He disappointed you. How could he not? You're beautiful. You're divine. You're perfect.

And what is he? A fat old clown.

He lays there, shivering in the cold air, too afraid to move. Too aware of his shortcomings. Too aware of every flaw, every defect, every deficiency. His temper. His teeth. His nose. His appetite. His everything.

The door opens. The moonlight frames your silhouette for a moment before you close the door behind you.

He nearly sobs with relief. You don't notice, thankfully, as you shuck his coat.

He launches his arms at you as he sits upright, pulling you into an embrace as he falls back down. He lays you to the side, slipping under your arm and tucking his head in the crook between your chin and chest.

You thread your fingers through his hair. “Don't tell me you thought I wasn't coming back.”

He murmurs something he forgets as soon as it leaves his lips. You're so soft. So warm. So comfortable. And he's so exhausted.

You giggle. You kiss his forehead and slide your fingers through his hair. “Bonwee, sha.”

He has no idea what that means, but you say it with such warmth that it must be something good. He snuggles up close to you.

Rocked by the sea and calmed by your heartbeat, he drifts off.

---

He sleeps well, but he stirs a few times.

The first is when you shift out from under him, mumbling something in a language he can't place. You roll onto your side, your back to him. He doesn't like that at all and pulls you in to be the little spoon. You squeak. It's cute. He doesn't care that his belly presses against your back. 

He stirs again when his arm falls asleep and he rolls onto his side. You follow him this time. You press yourself right up against his back, breasts and belly and thighs squishing against him. You're so warm.

The final time is as the gray light of dawn slips through the windows. He's shaken from a dream and he grumbles.

“I gotta go get started on breakfast,” you whisper. “Just wanted to let you know I wasn't lovin’ and leavin’.”

That's so sweet of you. “You're so sweet,” he mumbles sweetly.

You giggle. “See you in a few hours.”

You kiss the tip of his nose and he's not even upset.

===

You had a lovely night, but you're walking a bit funny and it's making your usual bustling around the galley just difficult enough to be annoying. And the visions of your stark naked captain filling your head are making it even harder.

You're a very simple woman, like your mother before you. You like men. You like food. You like men who like food. You especially like men who like your food.

Captain Buggy's a man. Captain Buggy likes food. And he loves your food, if his constant hovering in the galley is anything to go on. And he loves it a lot and it's showing.

The memory of him lying beneath you, his warm hips against your thighs, his belly wobbling as you bounce atop him, his head thrown back in bliss, surprises you just as you're tossing a flapjack. It slams into the ceiling and stays there.

Your fellow cook, a swarthy fellow going by Bloomer, casts the new ceiling decor an odd look. He turns it on you. “You alright, girl?”

You know what? Screw this. Everyone else can handle breakfast. “I'm gonna go wake up the captain,” you say. “How's he like his coffee?”

Milk and two cubes of sugar, he tells you. You put in cream and three cubes. Man's gotta get his strength back from last night, you tell yourself as you set off across the deck. 

You knock three times on the door. No answer. You knock harder. Still nothing. You take that as a sign he may be dead and enter just in case.

Captain Buggy is, in fact, quite alive, if not also naked. He's in front of the mirror... or his face is, anyways. His body is turned completely around as he examines the reflection of his rear. He grabs a handful, thick fingers sinking into the squish. He gives it a jiggle and it wobbles.

You don't blame him. It's a great ass. Perfect for grabbing and digging your nails into. Next time, you're making him get on top so you can do just that. 

But you prefer his front. That's where all the good shit is. Soft, muscular pecs, perfect for grabbing and groping, covered in a dusting of hair that trails down to his soft belly.

His hands go there next, pinching his sides. He gives them a shake and his belly bounces. 

That little zing shoots up your gut and into your throat, that one you always get around men like him. That same one as when you first saw him from across the diner, draining a pitcher of beer. The same one you had last night when you walked in on him eating pie filling. And now, watching him preening after a wild romp.

...or you thought he was preening. He turns his body around and as his hands go to his face -- he's got a stronger jawline than you'd expected when he's barefaced -- you notice his laugh lines deepen. He lets out a grunt of disgust as his lips curl.

You frown. He's saying ugh as if you couldn't keep your hands off of him last night. Coaxing him in closer with pie filling just so you could feel his body molding against yours. Grabbing his cheeks and yanking him in for a kiss you'd been craving for months. Dragging him to his cabin and fucking yourself on him while you dug your nails into whatever soft flesh you could grab.

You close the door with a firm check of the hips. The slam startles him, but he calms as he sees you. Somewhat. There's still an uneasy look in his eye.

“G’morning,” he says. A little blush blooms across his cheeks. He avoids eye contact.

He'd be cute if he wasn't pathetic. You set the coffee down on the nearest surface and wrap your arms around his waist, resting your hands on the swell just above his hips and resting your cheek between his shoulder blades.

“Thank you for finally taking the hint,” you say into his skin.

He chuckles, a low, vibrating thrum. “I never miss a cue, baby.”

Lies. You've been trying everything. Flirting. Making his favorite food. You even went braless one day on a supply run with him and he didn't even blink. Idiot.

“Then why'd it take you so damn long?”

He scoffs. “Had to make sure I wasn't seeing things,” he mumbles.

He's so pathetic. Like a wet cat. You can't help but squeeze his sides--

He jumps away from you like you gave him an electric shock. “Stop it!” he spits.

You blink. “Stop what?”

“Stop-- Stop mocking me!”

You blink a few more times. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

The flush deepens along with his scowl. “Quit touching me like that.”

Not what he was saying last night. “Like what?”

“Stop grabbing my--” He huffs. “I know I’m fat. Quit rubbing it in.”

Pardon? Did you hear that correctly? Does he know who he's talking to? You try to keep your tone even, but you were never good at that. “Permission to speak freely, Captain?”

He blanches. “...No.”

Too bad. You grab him by the waist and throw him onto the bed. He yelps as he bounces, then once again as you straddle his waist.

“Buggy. Darling. Cher,” you say. “Do you really think I would have fucked you if I didn't think you were hot shit?”

He simmers like a boiling pot with the lid still on. “Maybe!”

Pour l’amour de Dieu, c’est un contraieuse et un tête de cabri et pourquoi ce clown so fucking stupid?

You scoot backwards, kissing your way down his chest. Each one gets a tiny grunt from him until you get to his belly. He growls and tries to roll away, but you hold fast. You gently kiss just above his navel, then the tuft of blue hair right below it.

You peer up at him. He peers back, brow knit up, questioning you.

You press your face into his navel and blow a raspberry against his skin.

Buggy squeal-laughs. You've never heard him make that noise before and it's very cute. You do it again and he devolves into laughter.

“Sto-o-op!” he cackles.

You do not. You do it again and again until he's wheezing and not scowling any more. You stare up at him, fingering the tuft of hair below his navel.

He comes down slowly, cackles turning to giggles to breathless gasps. He finally sees you staring. “What?”

“Feeling better?” you ask. He huffs, but he does nod. “Good. Now stop being mean to my favorite captain.”

He frowns a bit at that. “Who’s that? Alvida? When'd she come up?” You keep staring at him. He blinks. “Wait, you mean--?”

Gros couillion. “No, the other guy I fucked last night,” you say. He bristles. Fuck’s sake. “Yes, you!”

He blinks again. The flush returns. “You mean that?”

“I wouldn't be on top of your naked-ass body if I didn't.” You place lean in close, the tip of your nose bumping his. “And you have a very nice body, Captain.”

Just for emphasis, you grab his side, right at the fleshiest part, and give a hard squeeze. He jumps, but nods.

He tries to dive in for a kiss, but you pull away. If you do that, you'll be here all morning. You stand up, offering him your hands. “C’mon, breakfast is ready,” you say.

“I'm not hungry.” His stomach growls. He glares at it. “Shut up.”

Trump card time. “Guess I'll just have to feed all those beignets to Richie, then.”

His eyes go wide. “...you made bin-yays?”

He still can't pronounce it right, but he's getting there. “Sure did,” you say coolly. You examine your nails. “Won't be good for much longer.”

His stomach growls again. “And that pie?” 

“Should be good to go, but you better be quick. They'll go fast.”

He jumps to his feet and licks his lips. “Well, keep some for me! Lemme-- Lemme get dressed and I'll be right down.”

“Don't take too long,” you say.

You turn to leave, but he grabs your hand. With a yank and a twirl, he pulls you flush against him and into a kiss.

You melt right into it. Rough lips move against yours, his warm body molds against you, strong arms holding you tight, belly pressing against yours... his nose squishing into your cheek. Wonderful, all of it.

You separate with a pop. He grins at you and wipes his wrist along his lips. “Didn’t think I was gonna let you leave without that?”

You blush. Now he decides to be slick. “Just get dressed.”

You twirl him around and, with a flat hand, you swat his ass. Just to see it quiver. The slap echoes in the small room and he jumps, but you can't stick around to see the look on his face.

You've got work to do.

---

Special thanks to my bf, Meg, and Ollie for beta-ing!

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[dixons-sunshine]

👉👈 Because your my fav writer for Dad Daryl 👉👈 Just wondering if you’d consider him stepping up as a parental figure for his niece (Merle’s kid) after he “died” and when he actually died 👉👈

I'm Right Here | Uncle!Daryl Dixon x Niece!Reader (platonic/familial)

*GIF isn't mine.*

Summary: With Merle gone, you were the only family Daryl had left. He had unofficially stepped up as your dad, and in those eight months with your actual father "dead", Daryl was a better dad than Merle ever was. And he proved it in more ways than one, even before Merle went missing.

Genre: Fluff, some light angst.

Era: The Quarry, The Prison (season three).

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of blood and death, fear of abandonment.

Word count: 2.4k

A/n: I've been bouncing back and forth between fics and finally managed to finish this. Next up is I Never Lived For The Applause, and then some more young!Daryl. Anyhow, I hope you like this!

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

“Hey, kiddo. Ya alrigh'?”

You looked up at the sound of your uncle's voice, meeting his intense gaze. You gave him a small, unconvincing smile that he could see through instantly.

“I'm fine. The walkers didn't get me,” you tried to reassure him. “You didn't find my dad?”

Daryl sat down on the log next to you, placing his crossbow down on the ground. He stared ahead at the ashes of the prior night's fire, an unreadable expression on his face. “Nah. Wasn't nothin' to find 'cept his hand. He had to cut it off.”

You winced, absentmindedly grabbing your own hand at the mere thought of the pain that it must've caused your father. Despite your strained relationship with the man for obvious reasons, he didn't deserve that fate—to lose his hand because some people couldn't find another way to deal with his temper.

“Oh,” you mumbled, feeling your heart break. Despite everything, Merle was your father and you loved him. At least he had stuck around. The same couldn't be said for your mother, who had dropped you on Merle's doorstep the moment you were born.

“Yeah,” Daryl responded, instantly picking up on your downtrodden mood but not knowing how to bring you comfort in a moment like that. He'd just essentially told you, his thirteen year old niece that was so wise beyond her years due to the shit Merle had gotten into, that your father was most likely dead. It tore him apart to have to bestow that news on you, but it was necessary. What could he do, lie to you? That was out of the question.

You blinked the tears away that had started to well up in your eyes, trying to put on a brave face for your uncle. “Looks like it's just us now, huh, uncle Daryl? The two remaining Dixons.”

Daryl gave you a tight-lipped smile and ruffled your hair, chuckling quietly at the sound of protest you let out. “Looks like it. We're gon' give the world hell, ya and I. Jus' like the old times.”

You smiled up at him. Even though your father was gone, you still had your uncle, and that made you feel better about everything.

“We are. The world ain't ready for us.”

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

“It won't work.”

“S'gotta.”

“It'll stir things up,” Rick told Daryl, adamant with his decision.

“Look, the Governor's probably on the way to the prison righ' now. Merle knows how he thinks, and we could use the muscle,” Daryl replied defiantly, glancing between his companions on the road.

“Do you really want him sleeping in the same cellblock as Carol, Beth or Y/n?” Glenn questioned, unwilling to let Merle, a known hothead and former drug user, near the people he's come to care about.

“He ain't a rapist,” Daryl responded, frowning at Glenn's accusation. “And he sure as hell wouldn't touch his own daughter like tha'. Merle may be sick in some ways, but he ain't like tha'.”

“Yeah, okay, but his buddy is.”

“They ain't buddies no more. Not after last nigh'.”

Rick chipped in to the conversation, turning the archer's attention back to him. “There's no way Merle's gonna live there without putting everyone at each other's throats.”

“What, so ya'd cut Merle loose and bring the last samurai home with us?” Daryl asked, motioning over to Michonne who was waiting for them by the car.

“She's not coming back with us.”

“She's not in a state to be on her own,” Maggie denied, giving Rick a pointed look.

Glenn nodded in agreement to his girlfriend's statement. “She did bring you guys to us.”

“And then ditched us,” Rick stated in a bored tone, eyeing Michonne warily.

“At least let my dad stitch her up?” Maggie asked.

“It's too unpredictable,” Rick denied vehemently, shaking his head.

Daryl nodded in agreement. “He's righ', we dun' know who she is. But Merle... Merle's blood.”

“No. Merle is your blood. My blood, my family is standing right here and waiting for us back at the prison,” Glenn countered, crossing his arms over his chest.

“And you're part of that family,” Rick told Daryl, looking at him expectantly. “He's not. He's not.”

Daryl stayed quiet for a few moments, pondering over his decisions. Thoughts of leaving with Merle, going off and fending for themselves like the old days flashed through his mind, but then he thought of you. You, his sweet, kind, low-key badass, now fourteen year old niece who he'd gone to great lengths to protect over the past eight months. The girl who he'd been taking care of since his brother "died", the girl who had unknowingly started to feel like his own daughter, though he would never tell Merle that. And at that moment, he knew he couldn't just leave. He wouldn't.

“Man, wha' do y'all expect me to tell my niece?” Daryl began, effectively silencing everyone. “Tha' I found her father after all this time and he's alive, but he couldn't come back to her 'cause y'all said so? How's tha' gon' fly with her? Ya'd really deprive the girl a chance at gettin' her father back 'cause of wha' might happen?”

That seemed to really make everyone reconsider. Even Glenn didn't have a counter argument now. Everything was silent for a good thirty seconds while Rick weighed his options, exchanging wordless exchanges with Maggie and Glenn. It was clear that nobody wanted it, but the group couldn't deny Daryl's argument. They cared about you, and it would be unfair for them to deny you the chance of getting your father back.

Rick turned and whistled, signalling Merle over. When he stood in front of him, Rick gripped him by his shirt, getting into his face.

“You're coming with us, but this isn't an invitation for you to be a jackass with everyone back at the prison. The only reason you're even coming back is because of your daughter. If it wasn't for her, you'd be gone.”

Merle's eyes widened the slightest bit with surprise, but it soon morphed back into his usual careless look. “Well, would ya look at tha'. My lil' girl still lives. M'surprised, quite honestly. Didn't think she was built fer this world. Kinda expected her to have kicked the bucket by now.”

“Man, shut up!” Daryl's voice boomed unexpectedly, shutting his brother up. “Dun' make me regret convincin' them to bring ya back. And if ya even say one degradin' thing to yer daughter, I will personally gut ya and feed ya to the walkers. Tha' kid's been through 'nough.”

Unbeknownst to either brother, Rick, Glenn and Maggie had walked ahead to get everything settled into the car, leaving the two brothers to their feud. It was a good idea, too. That was a family matter.

“Wha', ya actually care 'bout her now? Didn't see ya stickin' 'round to play pretend with her back before the world went to shit, and now yer tryna tell me how to parent my own child? Nah, lil' bro. Tha' ain't how it works.”

Daryl scoffed and shoved past him, walking over to the car. He didn't miss the unmistakable sound of Merle's laughter, rolling his eyes at it. He pressed forward and slipped into the passenger's seat, not missing the way everyone tensed up when Merle got into the car.

He just hoped that he hadn't made the wrong decision by bringing Merle back.

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

You and Carl were rushing over to the gates when you saw the familiar vehicle enter the courtyard. The car was noticeably more crowded, and with one glance through the window, you were relieved to see your uncle. You had been so worried that something might have happened to him, but there he was, relatively unscathed.

Daryl was barely out of the car when you practically launched yourself into his arms. He stumbled a bit but regained his footing, hugging you tightly to him. He didn't miss the unmistakable sound of your sniffles.

“Hey, kiddo, s'alrigh'. M'okay,” he reassured you in whispered tones, rubbing his hand up and down your back in comfort.

“I was so scared. I couldn't stop fearing the worst,” you choked out, trying to will the sobs away. You buried your face into your uncle's shirt, dampening it slightly with your tears, but he didn't seem to mind.

“M'righ' here. I ain't goin' nowhere, I promise,” he assured you. “No more tears, alrigh'? Ain't no more need fer 'em.”

“Well, ain't this jus' sweet.”

A familiar raspy voice met your ears. You tensed up, pulling away from the hug and turning around, facing the man you had thought to be dead for eight months—your father, Merle Dixon.

“Wha', no hugs fer yer old man, girl?” Merle asked, a grin on his face as he extended his arms in a silent invitation for a hug. “Yer not gon' greet the man who helped with givin' ya life?”

Subconsciously, you took a step back. Daryl stepped in front of you, shielding you with his body. He gave Merle a warning glare before turning to you.

“Why dun' ya go help Hershel with tha' lady we brought back? I know he's been teachin' ya some medical things. It'd do ya good to learn how to do stitches.” You nodded, understanding his underlying message and sped off, leaving him alone with Merle. Daryl turned to face him, a glare on his face. “Man, back the hell off. She ain't gotta give ya anythin' if she dun' want to.”

“Because I was with the enemy?”

“'Cause yer a simple minded piece of shit who never even bothered to play dolls with her, much less give her hugs! Ya wanna know somethin'? When tha' lady dropped her off on our doorstep, who do ya think took care of her when yer ass was too high or drunk to? To answer yer question from earlier, I did stick 'round. I changed her diapers. I bathed her, fed her, stayed up with her at nigh' when ya wouldn't. I took care of her. Ya were jus' too fuckin' out of it most of the time to realise it! Hell, did ya think those things happened magically?”

“Now listen here, bro—” Merle started, but Daryl didn't light up.

“And when she got older, who the hell do ya think took her to school? Picked her up, encouraged her to do the spelling bee, went to parent teacher conferences? Do ya think the fuckin' tooth fairy did tha'? Say wha' ya want, bro, but she dun' owe ya shit. Ya may not have been like dad, but ya weren't a good father, either.”

Merle stayed silent for a moment, the weight of his brother's final statement weighing heavily on his shoulders. “Then why the hell did ya convince 'em to bring me back?”

“'Cause despite everythin', tha' girl still loves ya. And she deserves to have her father 'round,” Daryl responded simply before turning around and stalking off, leaving Merle alone and dumbfounded.

Merle Dixon wasn't right about most things, but one thing he knew for certain he was right about was that you probably didn't care whether he was dead or not. If what Daryl was saying was true, you didn't need him. You had a perfectly good father figure in your life already. Daryl had been a better father to you than your actual father was.

And for some unknown reason, that crushed Merle's heart.

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

“You found him like that?”

Daryl's heart shattered at the broken sound of your voice. It was the second time that he had needed to tell you that Merle was dead, but this time, it was real. Your father's lifeless corpse layed motionless six feet in the ground in the designated graveyard, Daryl having dragged him there and buried him.

Daryl nodded. “Found him as a walker. He had tried to kill the governor but failed. Son of a bitch got to him first.”

“I should've stopped him. I should've known that something was wrong,” you said, a sob threatening to escape your body. “Before he left, he told me that he was proud of me. That he loved me. I should've known that there was a reason to it. He never told me that before. I should've—”

A choked up sob finally fell past your lips. Daryl instinctively pulled you into his arms, offering to be the pillar of strength for you as you crumbled. Despite everything, Merle was still your father. You still had a handful of good memories with the man—when he wasn't drunk or high, Merle was an okay father. But just okay.

It took a while, but you finally managed to calm down. Instinctively, Daryl pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, running his hand soothingly over your back.

“S'alrigh', kiddo,” he whispered soothingly.

You didn't know what made you say what you said next. Maybe it was the fact that you weren't thinking straight. Maybe it was because you were desperately looking for a pillar of support, you didn't know. But before you could stop it, the words slipped past your lips—

“Please don't leave me. I can't lose you too, Dad.”

A moment of silence passed. Unbeknownst to you, a small smile spread over Daryl's face. He pulled you closer to him.

“Ya still got me. M'here and I ain't goin' nowhere, kid. Yer stuck with me.”

Merle Dixon wasn't always a good man. He wasn't always a good father either. But in the midst of a cruel world, before and after the dead started walking, Merle managed to give Daryl a sweet gift—you, his daughter. Because despite biological relations, you were now truly his.

[rarepairdumpster]

Donor/Triad AU

Pairing: Jayce/Viktor, Jayce/Viktor/Silco Rating: M C/W: Modern AU, Trans Viktor, Threesome, Poly Relationship, Trans Pregnancy, BABIES

Jayce and Trans Viktor trying to have a child for years, before finally finding out that Jayce is shooting blanks (and that it isn't Viktor's fault as Viktor had immediately assumed because of his substandard health)

The two of them not being entirely comfortable with the idea of Viktor being impregnated by some random faceless syringe full of semen.

So the two of them go searching for someone to invite into Viktor's bed

Enter: Silco

Jayce watches the entire time Silco is in Viktor's bed. He tells himself he doesn't find it arousing, but the tent in his trousers says otherwise

Silco tells him it's okay to touch himself. Silco ends up becoming the dom for both of them

Jayce is always the good, obedient one and Viktor tends to be a brat but submits before Silco gets too upset.

Viktor's bratting is mostly snark.

And Silco actually loves it.

Just not when he's trying to fucking bone him.

Silco crooking his finger at Jayce when he has Viktor on his lap that first night -- because Jayce is gripping the arms of his chair hard enough to make the wood creak because Silco is balls deep in a moaning Viktor, using his knees to keep Viktor's legs spread. So Viktor's swollen pussy is on full display. And his inner thighs are shining.

Jayce ends up between Viktor's legs, face buried in his pussy, licking and sucking at his clit.

And Viktor has cum like twice already and he's so sensitive that he curses and grips Jayce's hair with one hand and Silco's with the other. Trapped between the two of them.

They fuck every night for three weeks in a row. Just to give Viktor the best chance of getting pregnant. When his test is positive, Viktor has a good cry in the bathroom because he's so overjoyed.

When they tell Silco the news, he fakes a smile but is ready to hear that they don't need him anymore.

He doesn't expect Viktor to grab his hand and pull it to his belly, saying "Just a few months until you'll be able to feel our baby."

Jayce rubs his neck. "We understand if you want to leave since the...ahem job is done so to speak, but Viktor and I would really think it would be beneficial for both the child an--"

"We want you to stay. Forever, preferably"

Silco's smile turns genuine then as he steps closer to them both.

Silco treats Viktor like a king the entire time.

He gets overwhelmed with all the doting from both Silco AND Jayce sometimes.

Jayce frets a lot more though, trying to stop him from lifting things, etc. Viktor goes feral when that happens.

Silco is of the "he's not helpless" mindset.

Silco the one who gives the back massages. Jayce does the feet.

The pregnancy is hard though, especially in the last trimester. Viktor is just so skinny.

That's when Silco worries.

It turns out he was carrying twins but one twin was basically hiding the other twin from the ultrasounds.

Silco being in the process of helping Viktor out of a hot bath when gush, his waters break.

Viktor stressing out because its too early and Jayce is away on a business trip

Silco using his Dom voice to try to keep Viktor breathing and relatively calm because stressing too much won't be good for him or the baby(ies). Silco driving him to the hospital and letting Viktor grip the fuck out of his thigh, uncaring of how bruised it'll get.

Once he parks the car, its one of the few times Viktor lets him carry him bridal style. Because the contractions are so painful, he can't keep standing, even with his cane.

He keeps kissing Viktor's face and telling him how good he's being.

Viktor clings to him. It's one of the few times he doesn't even think of bratting.

Silco facetiming Jayce so he can be there for the birth though.

Jayce totally walks out on an important meeting to answer the video call 'cause he knows Silco wouldn't call unless it was I M P O R T A N T

All the three of them have very different expressions when one baby gets delivered and the doc says the next is coming.

Jayce is an excited puppy, Silco is surprised, and Viktor is already too tired for this shit.

They do not have enough cribs for two babies

Jayce is on Amazon immediately getting next day shipping.

Silco is trying to calculate the doubling costs.

Viktor just wants a nap.

Viktor is just out cold not long after the birth, after the babies have had their chance to rest on his chest. As Viktor sleeps, Silco holds one baby, and the other snoozes in the hospital crib next to him.

Jayce is ending his trip early, on top of ordering the crib online. He's driving his rental to the airport even as his assistant books him a ticket for the next flight home.

Viktor is barely awake when he has to do the first feeding, with the nurses giving him instructions, and Silco is watching Viktor and babies like a hawk. They're just finishing up the feeding when Jayce arrives at the hospital.

The Babies are two (apparent) girls and get given neutral names

Avery and Ash.

Avery was Silco's first preference. Ash was Jayce's. Viktor honestly didn't have a clue what he wanted to name the baby(ies) -- he just wanted them OUT, BUT NO NOT LIKE THAT JAYCE ISN'T HERE

When Viktor is released from the hospital, Silco helps keep him upright as he leans exhaustedly on his cane, and Jayce carries the baby carriers -- one of which, he had to quickly buy at the nearest department store once it was clear that Viktor and babies were going to be released.

Jayce having to stop at some Russian restaurant on the way home because Viktor smelled the food in the air and had a sudden craving for Pelmeni. Silco (who pulls in behind them in his own car) runs in to get a double portion for take away, after coming to Viktor's window to ask what was wrong.

Jayce being like "Whatever's in those dumplings smell awful" when Viktor is eating them in the car. And Viktor is like "I haven't had these in 9 months. Leave me alone."

Viktor eats both portions and pouts 'cause he's still hungry, but they're already home.

"I'll get you more tomorrow, Vitya, but you need to rest"

That's Silco, who's already ushering him up the stairs. Viktor just huffs and leans into him because yeah fuck he's really tired

Jayce lets the babies snooze in the carriers while he works on putting together the second crib. Meanwhile, Silco helps Viktor into his pjs and curls up around him in their big bed -- which is much more comfy than the hospital one and Viktor conks out almost immediately, head tucked under Silco's chin

Once Jayce is done and has the babes settled, he also crawls in bed on the other side of Viktor, gathering both him and Silco in his arms

Yes. Silco is already asleep, so he can't complain

Silco giving Viktor free reign to boss Jayce around because he can't fuck for 6+ weeks.

Ash ending up being Silco's girl while Avery is sporty like Jayce.

A couple years later they have a boy and he is JUST like Viktor.

Boy constantly gets into trouble and big sis Ash has to get him out of it.

Silco's adopted kid, Jinx, was insecure at first but very quickly became a protect big sis for all of them.

It helps that Viktor is queer in a way similar to Jinx, so that softens the blow of the babies coming along.

Silco would go to every one of Avery's sports matches, even if he has no clue what's going on.

Jayce being really bad at explaining sports rules to him and Viktor has to take over.

Arch + Woods