#ALSO THE SHOULDERS ON THESE RIGS BOTHER ME SO MUCH

[emmagail-brainrot]

“Y’know, I really like spending time together with you Abs. You’re a breath of fresh freakin’ air.”

“I’ll always be here to rescue you from the woes of stardom and subscribers Em.”

[annwrites]

fine, yeah, I'm fuckin' jealous!

— pairing: billy hargrove x fem!reader

— type: part of a series

— summary: you & billy get lunch & he nearly commits assault. he then steals your icecream cone.

— tags: billy getting violently jealous, billy getting a boner, billy being possessive

— tw: eating, drinking, slut-shaming, sexual harassment

— word count: 2,840

— a/n: i'm not gonna lie, writing for billy is sm fun. he's such an asshole & it's hilarious to me

When you wake in the morning, it's with a muscled arm slung heavily over your waist, and something hard pressed into your backside.

So, he'd decided to join you under the convers at some point during the night, you think.

You turn, wishing to get him off of you, but jerk in surprise when you feel a patch of rough hair brush against the side of your thigh. He was not...

You shoot up in bed, his arm falling into your lap, and he doesn't even wake.

You very slowly pull back the comforter, and when you glance down you fill with rage. "Get up!"

Billy's eyes slowly open and a lazy smile forms on his lips. "Mornin', sunshine. You sleep good? I know I did."

You get out of bed, throwing the covers back, then immediately regret that decision, seeing someone—or, rather, something—also clearly 'awake'.

Billy doesn't so much as react. He just folds his hands behind his head, not even bothering to re-cover himself, knowing what God blessed him with.

You stare up at the ceiling. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

His eyes trail along your body, your messy hair. "I don't like sleeping in clothes. Get over it."

Your hands ball into fists at your sides. "You are such a dick."

He raises a brow, glancing down to his waist, shrugging, lightly nodding. "In a way, I guess you're rig-"

You quickly walk around to his side of the bed, grabbing his briefs, and throwing them in his face. "Get dressed."

He catches them, sighing. "You're so mean to me."

You grab your backpack, heading into the bathroom, firmly shutting the door behind you as you get ready for the day.

When you come back into the room, Billy's now dressed—thankfully. A pair of jeans, his boots, and a plaid button-up...which is fairly unbuttoned at the top, showing off his chest, and leather jacket on.

He looks up to you, chewing on a piece of cold pizza. "Breakfast?" He asks, holding the half-eaten piece out toward you, mouth full.

You grab your other bag, settling the strap on your shoulder. "No, I lost my appetite," you say, making your way toward the door.

Just as you reach up on tiptoes to unlock the chain at the top, you feel him pinch your ass under your dress.

You swing around, backpack nearly slamming into him, which you then slip off of your shoulders, throwing it on the floor.

He raises his hands, laughing.

You raise an open palm toward him, his hand quickly grabbing your wrist, catching it before it even comes close to his face. You raise the other one—same thing. He pushes you back against the wall, holding you firmly in-place by your wrists, a smirk on his lips as you squirm to get free.

He places his lips directly beside your ear, his body now pressed-up against your own. "You want to take your frustrations out on me, baby? I can think of lots of funner ways to do it." He pulls back, looking into your eyes, face now utterly serious, eyes hard, his hands squeezing your wrists a bit more firmly.

"Don't ever do that again," he says, suddenly releasing you and grabbing his bag, throwing the door open, leaving you standing there seething.

Once the two of you are checked out and back on the road, Billy seems to be in good spirits, despite your little tiff that morning...which you felt incredibly guilty about.

How could you have even thought of hitting him? Especially when you knew how much it hurt. And you knew that he did as well.

You reach forward, turning down AC/DC on the radio and turn toward him.

He looks at you with a curious expression. "You need somethin', baby?"

Always with the pet names...

"I'm sorry...for...for trying to slap you. I shouldn't have done that. You're right: it won't happen again."

He's silent for a moment, staring at the road ahead. Then, "Don't worry about it." He shrugs. "Just trying to get you to lighten up a little, sugar. You know, you are allowed to have fun."

You shake your head. "Could you please stop with the pet names?'

He smirks. "Not likely, honey." Then, "So, about that having fun-"

You turn the radio back up, Highway to Hell blasting through the speakers.

A couple hours later, the two of you finally stop for lunch at a roadside stand that serves burgers, hotdogs, fries, and a few other items.

The two of you pay separately this time, you opting for cheese fries, and Billy a burger.

You sit at a picnic table with an umbrella overtop the both of you, and you watch as he opens his soda can, taking a sip.

You eat a couple fries, and feel a jean-clad leg brush against your own under the table.

You glance up to him from under your lashes, but he just continues eating.

And then you feel his boot knock against your ankle.

"Would you stop that?"

He looks up at you, swallowing. "Eating?"

You roll your eyes, lightly kicking him under the table.

"You want to play footsie, darlin'?"

You shake your head, ignoring his leg softly rubbing against your own. Every time you react, you're giving him exactly what he wants. He's just pissing you off to amuse himself.

A few moments later, his leg stills and you look up, seeing that his eyes are now trained elsewhere: on a pair of girls around your age perched atop a picnic table diagonal to where you sit, giggling and talking amongst themselves, glancing to him every few seconds. You turn back around to continue eating.

Billy shoots them a wink. "Hey, dolls," he calls flirtatiously.

You roll your eyes, but remain silent.

"Is that your car?" One asks, looking to his Camaro.

He grins—it always makes picking up chicks so much easier. "Sure is, sweetheart. You want me to take you for a spin?"

She goes quiet for a moment, you imagine she's debating it with her friend, then, "Can we both come?"

He stands. "Hell yeah you can, baby."

He doesn't bother looking down to you when he says quietly, "Be right back."

You watch as his car speeds out of the parking lot, hoping he comes back simply because all of your things are in his trunk.

Once you've finished eating, you stand to throw your trash away, until a soft breeze blows one of your napkins away. You groan.

You plop your paper bowl on top of the table and crouch down on hand and knees, reaching underneath the table to grab it. You go to stand, then hear someone catcall you from behind, and you slam the top of your head against the bottom of the table.

You reach up, placing your palm over the spot you were sure would have a bump forming on it soon enough.

You look behind you, and a group of three guys are watching you. Two of them standing, talking to each other, glancing to you every few seconds with smirks, the third seated on the hood of what you assume is his Mustang.

You turn around, throwing your trash away, then you seat yourself at the table again, leaning back against it, watching for Billy's car, now feeling uncomfortable.

The one on the hood slides off, making his way over to you.

You ignore him, glancing around, pretending not to notice, hoping it'll discourage him from trying to talk to you. You don't get so lucky, however.

He comes to stand in front of you, forcing you to look up at his towering form. He's older, but still handsome. Mid-twenties, maybe? Short, dark hair that's slicked back, a goatee, and dark eyes. He sports a plain blue t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. "Sorry about that. My friends...they, uh," he looks to them and smiles, then back to you. "Can be real assholes."

You smile nervously. "It's ok, no harm done."

He cocks his head to the side. "Your boyfriend do that?"

You reach up, hand hovering over the side of your face, then lower it back into your lap. "No. It's...a long story."

"I've got time," he replies with a kind smile.

You remain silent, not exactly interested in giving a stranger your life-story.

He nods. "I get it; you're shy. That's cute," he says with a chuckle.

He glances down to your bare legs, then back up to your eyes. "You're pretty."

You swallow nervously, blushing. "Thank you," you say quietly.

"Sweet too, apparently."

Your heart starts to pound from nerves. You then begin to worry about how long Billy is going to be gone. A few minutes? A couple hours?

Suddenly, he leans down, planting his palms atop the table behind you, boxing you in as he leans down, his face mere inches from your own. "You like fast cars, cutie?"

God, they really are all the same, aren't they?

You clasp your hands together to keep them from trembling from nerves. "Not really. They...they kind of scare me."

He smirks briefly. "What if I promise to take things slow, just for you?"

You know he is most certainly not talking about cars now.

Before you can reply, you hear the rumble of a familiar engine pulling back into the lot, and as you go to turn your head in the direction of the sound, he presses a kiss to your cheek, causing you to jerk your head back in his direction.

He laughs lightly. "Not exactly where I was aiming for." Then, "So, what's your name? Mine's Tyler."

You hear a door being loudly slammed.

"I-"

Suddenly, Tyler is being pulled away from you by the back of his shirt. Billy throws him on the pavement, the look on his face that of utter rage.

You glance to the Mustang, and see his two friends heading in your direction.

"Touch her again and I'll beat your fuckin' ass! You hear me, asshole?" He points down at him, his other hand in a tight fist.

Tyler goes to get up and Billy steps overtop of him, legs on either side of him. "Stay down, if you know what's fuckin' good for you."

"Hey!" You hear called from the parking lot and your eyes widen. His friends do not look happy.

You step over to Billy, gripping the leather of his jacket in your hands, pulling him toward you. "Billy, we have to go. Now."

He glares down at Tyler for just a moment longer, shoulders squared, rapidly rising and falling, jaw set, eyes hard, then steps away, grabbing your forearm, pulling you around to the passenger side. "Get in the fucking car," he orders, shoving you inside.

He quickly makes his way around the front of the car, turning the engine over and rapidly pulling away, leaving the three angry men in the rearview.

Billy swerves into traffic when he goes to merge, forcing the car in his lane to also swerve into the next one over, laying on their horn.

He just angrily switches gears, ignoring the now-angry driver, going faster.

You buckle yourself in, still shaking.

When you glance at him, he looks anything but pleased. Why was he so angry, anyway? Had the girls he'd given a quick ride to ticked him off? And thus made Tyler the target to take his anger out on?

"Did you not have fun, then?"

He looks at you with an irritated, but also confused look. "What?"

"With the girls from the food stand. Did they-"

He scoffs, shifting gears. "Are you fucking stupid, or something?"

Your hands ball into fists. "Excuse me?"

"Who even was that prick, huh? I leave you alone for five goddamn minutes and that's what I come back to? You letting him kiss you, and touch whatever-the-fuck-else while I wasn't there to-"

Angry tears sting your eyes. "I didn't let him touch anything! He came onto me! Maybe, if for once, you thought with the head on your shoulders, instead of the one in your pants, it wouldn't have happened in the first place!"

He picks up speed. "It's not my fuckin' job to babysit your ass. So, is that it, then? Huh? That you really are some easy slut who puts out for everyone except me?"

You're shaking you're so enraged now. "Fuck you! You-"

"Yeah, probably the only guy you haven't!" He throws at you with a mocking laugh.

He swerves into the next lane over as a poor excuse at merging.

"God, you are such an ass! What's your problem? I mean, how many girls have you slept with, anyway? I talk to one guy—one guy—and I'm a slut? Are you serious?"

He sneers. "None of your business how many I've had. Don't be such a fuckin' prude. Not like it meant anything, anyway. It's just sex. It doesn't mean shit."

"And that's exactly why I won't let you—any guy—so much as touch me: because that is what sex is to all of you. Thanks, but no thanks. I'll save myself for someone actually worthy of me."

He looks at you then, expression unreadable. "You're a fucking virgin?"

You clench your jaw.

He looks back to the road.

"Like you said: none of your business."

He leans back, dropping speeds, upshifting. "So you didn't let Harrington crawl up there after all, huh?"

You want to break something inside his car, but know for your own safety that you better not.

"Why? Are you jealous if I did?"

He looks at you. "Did he?" He asks, completely serious.

You shrug. "I don't know. Maybe he did, maybe he didn't. Sound awful jealous to me."

He downshifts again, anger climbing, along with the speedometer. "Answer the fuckin' question."

You stare out your open window, hair whipping around you.

"Fine, yeah, I'm fuckin' jealous! That what you wanted to hear? Huh? So, did you-"

"No, we didn't even hold hands because it wasn't a date, Billy! I'm not even attracted to him in the first place. Halfway through Nancy showed up, and they talked for the rest of the evening, while I sat with a girlfriend of hers chatting."

He grows quiet for only a second before saying "fuck this" and turning the radio on, blaring Black Sabbath.

It's an hour later before either of you speak again, you breaking the silence. "I have to pee."

He rolls his eyes. "Why didn't you go back at the food stand? Oh, wait, nevermind. I know why. You were too busy-"

"Either you pull over soon or I'm going all over the seat."

He takes the next exit, and once he's parked outside of a McDonald's, you slam the door behind you.

"Fuckin' watch that shit!"

You ignore him as you go inside, in search of a restroom.

Once finished, you sit there a few extra minutes, trying to calm yourself down. You consider going back out and trying to calmly explain to him that there are other ways of expressing emotions than through violence and unabashed anger, but you know exactly how such a conversation will go—it won't. He'll put a stop to it before you can even start.

So, you instead wash your hands, then go and get yourself an ice-cream cone.

When you come back out to the car, Billy has a pair of sunglasses on, head leaned back against the seat, Led Zeppelin now playing.

You get inside, buckling yourself in with one hand, then take a lick of your ice-cream that's in the other.

He turns his head in your direction. "What, nothing for your chauffeur?"

You look at him, licking your lips. "You have two feet and a heartbeat, go get one."

He watches you lick a few more times, vanilla sliding down your tongue.

He doesn't even try to hide it when he reaches down, adjusting himself.

You ignore it, licking again.

"Let me have some."

You look at him, considering, then hold it toward him.

And he bites half the thing off, swallowing.

"You-"

He then tosses the rest out the window, splattering against the pavement, rainbow sprinkles going everywhere.

"What'd you do that for?!" You yell.

He puts the car in reverse, backing out of his parking spot. "Don't need you making a mess in here, or distracting me while I'm driving."

"You just wasted thirty cents of my money!"

His hand circles the wheel, turning toward the exit of the parking lot. "More like fifteen once I was done with it." He looks at you again. "If you need somethin' else to lick, I know where you can put your tongue at, sweetheart."

"You're so disgusting."

He glances to you. "I think you like getting those perfect feathers ruffled."

He then revs the engine loud enough as he drives away that he doesn't catch the vulgar statement you throw his way.

He'd like to think you agreed with him.

[xiaosonlybeloved]

7 Minutes in Heaven- Gojo Satoru

featuring:- Gojo Satoru x fem!reader, Shoko, Utahime, Geto, Nanami tags:- fluff, y/n and gojo being absolute lovesick idiots, dumb and cringy pickup lines, kisses a/n:- again, i apologise for the cringe but your wishes have been fulfilled. i swear, next time it REALLY will be angst. Also this was based of a req i got on my main haha

wc:- 2k || masterlists

Shoko and Utahime were dragged by you into a nearby room, the door shutting behind them forcefully. “Guys you can’t literally be serious.” You exclaimed. Shoko yawned as she said, “It’s literally just a game, [Y/N]. Relax, you’re getting all worked up for nothing.” You looked at her in sheer disbelief as you whisper-shouted “But he’s here too! What if we- god forbid- get paired?” Utahime chuckled at your nervousness as she put an arm around your shoulder and said, “Well, that’s a great opportunity for you, isn’t it? I mean, no offence [Y/N, you’re my best friend and I love you, but you are driving me crazy with all your rambling about Gojo. Like, I get it, you like him, please go and confess.” She sighed. You were about to retort with a denial before a series of soft knocks sounded on the door. “Are you guys there? We’re waiting, if you’re ready.” Geto’s ever-calm voice came from the other side of the door. Shoko immediately responded with a “Yup, just [Y/N] being silly.”

The room to be used for the game had been appropriately darkened and set up. Nanami was working on the chits they’d used to select the two people for 7 minutes in heaven when they re-entered the living room. You released your breath in relief. Nanami was the most trustworthy in the group, and there was definitely no chance of rigging the chits. You know that if it was anyone else, probably all the chits would be filled with your and Gojo’s name.

Yeah, you have no idea how it even came about in the first place, but you had developed a terrible crush on one of your best friends, Gojo Satoru. Every moment you spent with him casually just made it worsen, as you noticed more and more things about him- the small twinkle in his eyes when he was up to some mischief, the assured self-confidence in his grin, the way his demeanor softened a bit on seeing all of you, and so much more. Even worse for you, you believed that he would never reciprocate, leading you to rant about it to your best friends, lovesick. (To the point that they consulted Geto and Nanami about it without your knowledge, only to find that those two were facing the exact same problem. Safe to say, Nanami was even more pissed than usual by Gojo.)

You’re brought back to the present from your daydreams by Geto calling out, “Hey, could you and Gojo please get the timer and some snacks from the storeroom? It’s gonna be a while.” You swallowed a bit as you nodded, “Yeah sure.” ,walking towards the said location with Satoru close behind you. 

It took the both of you some time to find the timer, which had been buried in some box somewhere, and you couldn’t help but feel that it was on purpose. By the time you two came back, the others were ready with the chits and waiting impatiently for you. “Took you long enough.” Utahime grumbled as she grabbed the snacks from you without bothering to ask nicely, passing over some packets to the others. There was only one bowl with all your names, ‘to make it more interesting’. 

The chips and cakes and drinks were passed around as Nanami drew the first two chits- Him and Geto. He shrugged as if bored already, as he followed Geto into the designated room. From beside you, Gojo groaned that this was a waste of time because absolutely nothing would happen between those two, as he impatiently tapped his foot- another thing you’d noticed about him. To while away the seven minutes, you put on some of your favorite songs, the others beside you perking up as they recognised their all time favorite artist. (im listening to taylor rn lmao)  At the end of the time, you guys noiselessly padded over the carpets and barged into the room to find both of them- asleep. 

You merely deadpan at the sight while Satoru instantly ran over to Nanamin and grabbed his arm to pull him up, the said man spewing a string of curses at the sudden disturbance, Shoko doing the same with Geto. Then Nanami pulled the next two chits, and your heart sinked as he first called out your name then, “..Geto?” 

Everyone at the table simultaneously frowned as Geto leaned over to look at the chit. “...That’s literally Gojo in my cursive handwriting.” Frowning, you grab the chit from Nanamin to confirm, and indeed it was Gojo’s name written on it. Geto leaned back in his chair, unimpressed at his friends’ inability to read his writing, while you weren’t sure whether to be happy or upset that you’d be locked in a room with your long-time crush. 

“Well, let’s go now, the seven minutes are ticking away!” Satoru laughs as he pulls you gently into the designated room by the wrist. Utahime and Geto cheerfully call out “Good luck!” and you swear you can see everyone sigh with relief.

You take a deep breath and walk through the door Satoru is chivalrously holding open for you with a grin, and Satoru follows as the door is locked from outside. But just a moment later, he trips and falls. He quickly gets up though, as he looks at you and says, “Hey, do you have a bandaid? Cause I scraped my knee falling for you.” 

You blink at him, once, twice, till you start laughing. He pouts, upset. “That’s so rude of you [N/N]!” You respond with “You should tie your shoelaces- I don’t want you falling for anyone else.” Now its Satoru’s turn to be flabbergasted, and you’re sure both your friends would be highly disappointed with your cringy as hell pick-up lines, but hey, atleast you’re not nervous anymore. “You don’t need to worry, cause I was enchanted to meet you. Still am, by the way.”

Your smile turns sad as the reality of the situation sinks in. Satoru was probably just using these to while away the time, and the fact that you really were in love with him didn’t help. “Satoru, I think we should stop now, because it hurts to know that you don’t really mean any of this.” “But I do!” Satoru protested vehemently. You turned away from him to face the wall. “Stop joking, please. Fine, I’ll admit it. I really like you Toru, and I wanna be more than just friends with you but I know you don’t feel the same. Still, its not nice of you to play with my heart like that.”

A beat of silence, then another, and suddenly you’re scared that you’ve ruined everything that was between you- friendship or more. 

And then you feel Satoru hugging you from behind, as you freeze up. You think you might just malfunction, because the Gojo Satoru just kissed you on the cheek with a lopsided smile. “Now now, who gave you the impression that I didn’t like you back? If anything, I thought that my feelings weren’t returned.”

You spin around in his embrace, shocked. Mistake, you realise, because your faces are so close to each other now, that if either of you leant forward a bit, you’d be kissing. “Are you being serious right now?” You whisper. “For once, yes, I’m being dead serious. But since we both like each other, can we just skip the formalities and kiss? Because right now, you’re the one torturing me with this proximity.” Satoru replies back, fully serious, and it makes you laugh a little as you finally, finally, pull his pretty face towards yours to kiss him like you’ve been longing to all this time. 

Satoru immediately responds in kind, and you’re not quite sure how much time passes while you two are lost in each other, but eventually Satoru pulls away a bit, and you frown at the loss of contact. After a moment, you hesitantly say, “..Well? What do we do now?” At this, Satoru smirks as he fully pulls away. “Of course, we go back to acting like we did before. Let’s make our dearest friends think their genius ploy to get us together has miserably failed. I always love a good prank, and this’ll be one of the best.” 

Again, you can’t help but chuckle at this. “So you suspected something was up? Yeah, me too. What I’m wondering is how they convinced Nanamin to join in. I genuinely didn’t think Nanami would ever do something like this.” “Remember when we all went to see Geto and him? I bet that at that time, Shoko and Utahime switched up the bowl of chits. That's like the only way possible.” “Nanami must still have been in on it though.”

“The seven minutes are almost up, I think. Right, so I’m gonna go to this wall and you go there, and we’ll pretend we haven’t been talking much. I can bet you they’re eavesdropping on us even right now, but I know from experience that its very hard to actually make the words out. So basically, they won’t know shit.” Amused, you go along with his plan. Except that now its actually embarrassing to act the way you used to, all lovesick at the mere sight of him, and you think he feels the same way from the way he’s blushing slightly.

A minute or two passes, and you’d think it was incredibly awkward, but its actually funny by the way Satoru keeps grinning at you, or says even more dumb pick up lines occasionally. Suddenly, the door bursts open, as if your friends are hoping to catch you in the middle of some heinous act. Imagine their sheer disappointment to see the scene in front of them.

Utahime stomps over to you as you rush out of the room, the way you would have done a day ago. “Well?” she demands forcefully. “Did anything happen?” 

Its so very hard to keep a poker face at her furious expression on hearing the blunt “No.” from you. She mutters something before proceeding to strangle Geto, who was strangling Gojo. Your and Satoru’s eyes meet, and you almost crack up at the mischief sparkling in his eyes- another thing about him that made you fall in love.

Oh well. You’re sure your friends will find out soon, but for now its highly entertaining to watch them at their wit’s end. You smile at Satoru when no one’s looking, and he sends a wink your way.

Bonus:-

Lessons had ended, and Satoru, being the gentleman that he is, came to fetch you from the class. The others were nowhere to be seen, and taking advantage of the moment, Satoru decided to kiss you- no one is here after all. 

Unfortunately, you lose track of time as a screech resounds in the empty and silent class. You two jump away from each other, startled and guilty as charged, while your friends stand at the entrance of the classroom with a betrayed look on their faces. The two parties just stare at each other till Geto finally, slowly asks, “How long?”

You sheepishly respond with the truth, and the look of shock on is just priceless. You sigh internally- Your friends are something, and your now-boyfriend is an entirely different kind of something.

Satoru sticks out his tongue at them before kissing you again, on the cheek this time.

Cue Nanami strangling Gojo. (They all gag, but they’re very relieved.)

Reblogs, Votes and comments are very much appreciated <33

[maigo-san]

What are your zolu hcs?

this is inspired by a scene from the anime during Luffy's flashback post Marineford. It's the way Luffy doesn't cross Zoro's boundaries. At first, Luffy sees a lot of himself in Zoro and that's why he finds that Zoro can take the way he treated him (i.e. the manhandling, flinging around, teasing him relentlessly) and he was right to some degree, Zoro seems to tolerate pain despite not made out of gum so he does sometimes still yanked Zoro when he ran in the wrong direction and stuff like that. Zoro also does the same thing as him, pinching him, bonking foreheads, using his full power to fight Luffy, scolding or teasing Luffy back. But Luffy realizes that Zoro is an immovable force when it comes to things like sleeping or training and he stops bothering him. Sometimes he still asks Zoro to play with him as a way to share his excitement but he doesn't disturb him or poke him or steal his stuff anymore and just tap on Zoro's shoulder or his weight. Luffy doesn't even need to say anything because Zoro already knows what he wants and he also knows that his "clingy" captain likes to do this just for the sake of seeking Zoro. Sorry, it's such a small gesture but I will die on this hill because Luffy cares for Zoro as much as Zoro does for him

they call each other aibous/partners LOL either in the final saga or post-canon or when they get together. Had this idea after a Sabaody arc rewatch and saw RayRoger call each other that. Also why I find a lot of parallels between ZL and KidKiller. I find it even more fitting than right-hand man or vice-captain (but he could be all of them)

Zoro has a weird way with PDA. He doesn't do that much because he gets embarrassed by it. But he can't keep himself away from Luffy's personal space. Probably because Luffy does the same. He likes to sniff him discreetly; swing his leg on top of Luffy, acting like he was just nonchalantly chugging his beer; randomly pin Luffy down with his whole weight and falling asleep on top of him while Luffy looks so confused at first; press a palm on the back of Luffy's neck and pulling him to press their foreheads together while staring intensely into Luffy's eyes; neither of them saying anything until Nami told them to get a room; Zoro likes to bite Luffy, on his shoulder blades or his cheeks, due to cuteness aggression. He is actually the one who started it before Luffy developed a habit of biting him.

In modern AU, I really like to HC kindergarten/daycare/preschool teacher Luffy. His jobs can be pretty diverse, ranging from errand boy, to sex worker, to sumo wrestler, to boxer or MMA, to child care, to delivery service, pet sitter, warehouse operator, oil rig worker, beetle expert/scientist, and (a moot suggested) animal whisperer. Did he get a degree? maybe. Did it take him multiple tries to get a degree? could be. Did Sabo or Nami hook him up with a fake certificate? also possible. He might not even need them, this and that offered him after he helped them or something. While Zoro for me is usually pretty straightforward. A kendo athlete or teacher, anything by Luffy's side, bounty hunter or a hitman, or he gets paid to do the math equations in his classmates' assignments. At one point he was offered a data analysis or statistics job where he didn't last for a week because he got bored, had a bad attitude, and was often late due to getting lost

I have so many zl hcs I have not made any fanwork of, but these are the ones I thought abt at the top of my head so I hope you enjoyed it. Let me know what you think.

Bonus mature one to make this five hcs in total

Luffy bottoms, Zoro tops. Sometimes, Zoro is more of a side or touch-me-not, so they would use toys, hands, or tongues. Luffy looooves Zoro's mouth, almost more than getting dicked down. They either have quickies almost every day or they can go months without having sex so they don't have it planned out and they don't really experiment. One or both of them will just ask the other if they're horny or not, if they want to let off steam or not and just go at it. Zoro finds more pleasure in Luffy's reactions and looks than his own while in return, Luffy lets him in his most vulnerable state and gives him all his unbridled attention. Oftentimes, Zoro does it because he misses Luffy.

[ax-y10]

Imagine playing Geoguesser with Wilbur where reader is better than him so he gets angry and pouts like a kid, then reader told him that it's okay and they end up cuddling since he was in a bad humor😭😋

Sore loser

In which- he didn't know you were better than him at geoguessr, so he gets a little upset

A/n: I got carried away and I know this isn't exactly what you asked for but it's the best I could do. I'm super caught up with school and I just barely finished my agriculture and chemistry assessments. I love your stuff (and please respond to my messages 😂)

Headcanon info: Swearing, sad and pouty Wilbur, hurt/comfort, fluff, Geoguessr Wilbur because why not, cuddling, idk sorry

Pronouns: None (You/Yours)

Masterlist:

He would be super cocky at the start just to annoy you and show off, but would be immediately shut down when you win 5 in a row.

He would be so confused when you win the first round and claimed it was rigged.

"THIS IS RIGGED WHAT THE HELL!" "Wilbur, darling, have another round with me and we'll see, alright?" "Okay"

You'd go easy on him in the second round to not hurt his feelings, and to give him the satisfaction.

But when the third and final round came up, you went hard mode.

Every city that popped up, you almost immediately knew where it was, with the off chance of Wilbur knowing first.

Was he pissed off? Yes. Was he angry with you? Why would he be?

He had stormed out of the room to calm himself down from the game and recollect his thoughts. You put up a tough match and you were hard to beat. He didn't know you were that good at Geoguessr. "Alright, chat. I'm going to end it here and check on Wil. Have a great day or night wherever you are and remember to take care of yourselves. Bye bye," He heard from his office, your soft voice very obviously worried about him. You walked out as soon as you finished your last sentence and found him on the couch, running his hands through his hair and messing it up even further. "Wil? What's wron-" "Can you just go to the bedroom and I'll be there soon." His words cut you off, and you swiftly moved yourself to the bedroom to get changed. You'd obviously gone way too hard on Wilbur and challenged him too much, but you also wanted to have some fun.

He wasn't going to lie but you calm him down.

When he gets stressed, you're always there will a bowl of fruit and a drink of water.

When he's angry, you welcome him with a long hug and a kiss on the cheek.

When he's upset, you're there with a comforting smile on your face and a shoulder to cry on.

when he's anxious, you're offering him your hand to squeeze on and a small fidget toy for him to play with.

He couldn't deny that you were a grounding force for him, and he felt bad leaving you on your own, and always wanted to be there with you to reciprocate the things you did for him.

Small footsteps pulled you out of your thoughts, waiting for your boyfriend to come into the room and sit on the other end of the bed and lay down, ready to watch a movie. But when he entered the room, his hair was severely messed up, his Doomed sweater crinkled and his fingers holding a pinkish shade from picking at them. He didn't sit down the other end of the bed, but he slowly laid down on your outstretched body, moving until he was comfortable, and wrapping his arms around your torso. "I'm sorry for getting so pissed. I didn't mean to get angry when you were asking me what was wrong. I feel really bad now. Can you just cuddle for a while?" He apologised. You didn't know what for, as nothing really bothered you. "Just admit I'm better at Geoguessr and then I can sleep peacefully." You joked, and he shook his head against your chest. At least he's going to get a good night sleep.

[fluffshisuga]

Arcade Games (M.F)

Decided I needed a little fluff with Megumi in an arcade, so made it.

This has been on my mind for like ages, and I need it done. Also, the dragon I imagined while writing this is the Zhongli dragon plush from Genshin impact that I've owned for like 2-3 years, when he's all sleepy :)its 2203 words of just my love for Megumi, honestly.

     How annoying, walking around while there are kids yelling and screaming, and for no reason at all. Screaming isn't going to make the machine give you the Pokémon plush. And yet, it didn't seem to bother anyone, Kugisaki was practically yelling with Itadori as well, practically punching the glass as the small box dropped back into the machine. "Oh, come on! It was right there!" Kugisaki yelled, fuming. Megumi shook his head in annoyance, she was making a scene, and shaking Itadori. "Do you think he's too old to experience Shaking Baby Syndrome?" A voice said beside him. Megumi jumped, before turning his head to you, a bright smile on your face. "He acts like a baby...so anything is possible." He said in a dull tone, shaking his head in the direction of their friends. You chuckled, nodding in agreement. "True. Should we prevent that?" You asked, a slightly concerned look on your face as you watched Kugisaki practically abuse Itadori each time she didn't win a prize. Megumi shrugged his shoulders, a sigh leaving his lips. "Too much effort." You chuckled again, turning your gaze to a machine nearby, a cute dragon plush on display inside. "Oh! Look at that one!" You said happily, moving over to the machine with a beaming smile. Megumi sighed, following behind you.

     "You know these machines are rigged, right?" He grumbled, looking through the glass at the prizes that littered the bottom. Some were stuffed tightly with others, ensuring that they couldn't be grabbed without wasting a few dozen coins in the process, while others were just to the side where the claw could not reach. You huffed and shook your head, slotting a few coins into the machine. "Even so, it's the experience, right?" You shrugged, causing Megumi to sigh. He watched intensely as you tried to position the claw above the dragon, your tongue sticking out slightly in concentration. Megumi smiled softly, finding it just slightly cute. As you dropped the claw down, your eyes widened in excitement as it gripped the plush, pulling it up slowly. "Look!" you said excitedly, grabbing onto his arm for a moment. Megumi let out an amused huff as he watched, his small smile dropping as the dragon fell from the claw a distance away from the drop box. "Oh...let me try again." You said with a smile, determined to get this dragon. Megumi shook his head, looking around for a moment to keep an eye on your other friends. His attention returned to you when a sad sigh left your lips, your head hung in defeat. "All about the experience, huh?" He mumbled, watching you. You shook your head, putting on another smile as you looked around. "There's always another claw machine."

     Megumi trailed behind the three of you, a small smile on his lips as he watched you and Kugisaki rush to the arcade games. "How many tickets can we get today?" Kugisaki said with a smile, slotting a few coins into the skee ball machine. You shrugged as you grabbed one of the balls, a smile on your face. "No clue, but I want enough tickets for a big stuffed animal!" Itadori stood next to Megumi, looking around at the claw machines again. "Hey, these machines are really hard, huh?" He sighed, looking at a little tiger plush in the machine next to them. Megumi shrugged; "Like I told y/n, these machines are rigged." Itadori frowned, adding some coins to the machine. "Yeah, but surely you can win something, right?" He moved the claw over the tiger, concentrating as he moved it to the tiger. Megumi watched with an amused grin, waiting for his immediate fail. However, his eyes widened slightly as the claw grasped firmly around the tiger, lifting it up gracefully before moving quickly to the drop box, dropping the plush. "Look at that! You can win!" Itadori said triumphantly, holding up the tiger. Megumi shook his head with a scowl, turning his attention away. "It's just luck." "Isn't that what the game is all about?" "Shut up."

     With Itadori's success, Megumi kept his eye on claw machines, trying to see which prize was easy to win. He glanced over at you once again, a small smile on his face as you hopped around different arcade games, a large sum of tickets already in your hand. He walked over to you and tapped your shoulder, leaning close to your ear so you could hear him. "I'm going to look at some things, don't get lost." You jumped slightly from the proximity, before you turned to him with a smile. "Okay! Don't get lost yourself." He chuckled, shaking his head. If anything, he could probably find you at the ticket exchange booth, if he couldn't find you anywhere else. With a final nod, he moved away from the three of you, sliding past other players and children as he made his way to a claw machine; the first one he saw you play. The dragon was still there, laying on its side from your previous attempts to adopt it into your arsenal, and Megumi smiled faintly to himself as he pulled out some coins. He wasn't any good with these machines, so his hopes weren't too high when it came to grabbing this little plush, but he was determined. And if not, summoning a bunny to grab it without anyone knowing will be fine, too. He added a few coins into the machine, eying up the plush as he tapped the joystick, inching the claw with small jolts. He grumbled to himself, watching the claw sway, taking time off for him to actually play. "Come on..." He mumbled, tapping the joystick again. A small sound left the machine as the claw dropped; he was out of time. He watched with a frown as one of the prongs grazed the tail of the dragon, pushing a few fake gems as it hit the bottom of the box, pulling nothing up. "Damn..." He whispered to himself, glaring through the glass. He added more coins into the machine, moving around to see if he could maneuver the claw above the dragon, like when you measure stuff in a cylinder. 

     It worked too...slightly. He knew the claw was above it now, but he didn't know if it was too behind the plush, or too forward. Why was this so hard? Megumi sighed, deciding that he was close enough, and dropped the claw. He watched inventively as it dropped slowly, wrapping its prongs around the middle of the dragon. With a smile, Megumi thought about the success, and how you would beam when he presented it to you, how your eyes would light up when they met the closed eyes of the dragon, wrapping it around your shoulders and walking around with it proudly... thump! Megumi was pulled out of his thoughts as he looked toward the sound, seeing the dragon hit the side of the Dropbox and falling back among the prizes. His eyes widened as he bit his lip in anger, seething and yet calming himself down so he didn't act like the many children around him. What a dumb excuse for a fit... He sighed, pressing his forehead against the glass, eyeing the dragon with narrow eyes. "I'll get you...don't worry." He mumbled to himself.

     "Look! I got so many tickets!" Kugisaki yelled, grabbing your shoulders and shaking you. You chuckled, looking at your own collection. "I think we could get some good prizes with these, huh?" You said happily, looking around for the prize booth. "Not yet! We haven't tried this game yet!" Kugisaki yelled, pulling you over to a basketball game. Itadori followed, eyeing the setup with a grin. "Now this is something you can win with skill." He smiled, putting a few coins into the slot. "Hey, no fair! We were after that first!" Kugisaki yelled, slapping him in the shoulder. He yelped in response, holding a basketball up as a shield. "Ow- hey! Calm down, you can have my tickets!" He yelped, peaking at Kugisaki from behind the ball. She scoffed, crossing her arms. "I don't need your tickets, give them to y/n if you need to." She huffed, frowning. You shook your head, urging Itadori to play. "It's fine, besides, we can watch to find a good strategy." You shrugged, a small smile on your face. Kugisaki beamed, wrapping her arm around your shoulder. "That's right! See? You're so smart, y/n!" She yelled. You chuckled in response, shaking your head. "Go on, Yuuji."

     Megumi walked around the arcade with a grin on his lips, one that he hid behind a small collection of stuffed animals he had won. Without the help of any summons, mind you. He walked around, the dragon you initially wanted wrapped tightly between his fingers, along with a little plush keychain of the same dragon that he found a few machines away, with a little fox plush paired with a cutely knitted pumpkin. He had wanted to win the knitted wolf, to be honest, but the pumpkin was cute as well; and when he came back to the machine with more coins, he watched a kid win the wolf he was after, so there was no way to get it now. Unless he bribed the kid, of course. He moved around people carefully, looking around for you and the others. He began to worry slightly, not seeing you at any of the games, and he actually didn't know where the prize counter was...which he realized he should have learned about before heading off on his own. Luckily, he didn't have to worry much about finding you, when he heard Kugisaki shout in excitement off in the distance. He sighed to himself, chuckling as he followed the cheers and reaching the prize counter, watching as the poor worker had to run around grabbing everything she asked for. He spotted you next to her, a giant plush in your arms, one you must have purchased with all the tickets you won. Megumi deflated a little when he saw the bundle of white fluff in your arms, realizing that he could have just bought you a gift. What was it that you said? It's the experience that counts. He hated to admit, but he had a little bit of fun while hunting for these plushies for you, and the happiness he felt each time he won something. He walked up behind you, leaning to your ear again so you could hear him over Kunisaki's yells. "I'm back."

     You smiled as you recognized Megumi's voice, turning to him and beaming at him. In your arms was a giant, fluffy, white wolf, with closed eyes as if it was smiling. It was cute, and you seemed pleased to have it. Megumi smiled softly, looking at the wolf in your arms. "Got your arms full?" He asked, raising a brow. You chuckled, shaking your head. "Good, I hope you have enough hands to hold these, then." He smiled, presenting the prizes he won. Your eyes widened as you looked at the dragon, a large smile growing on your lips. "Really?" You gasped, looking at the bundle of gifts in his hands. Megumi nodded, smiling sheepishly as he avoided your gaze. "You wanted the dragon, so I got it." You handed the wolf to Itadori, smiling as you moved to Megumi and wrapped your arms around his neck. "Really?" You asked again, pressing you face into his shoulder. Megumi's eyes widened slightly as he felt his cheeks warm up, clearing his throat as he tried to play it cool, feeling your breath warm the skin on his neck. "Yes, really. You...seemed upset that you didn't get the dragon, I wanted to see if I could." You chuckled, removing your arms from around his neck as you looked at the collection in his arms. "You gathered a few, did you have fun?" Megumi nodded, his face pink as he avoided your gaze. He did have fun, both with the winning and the thought of you being happy to receive his hard-earned prizes. 

     "Oh! You know, I actually have something for you, too!" You smiled, taking the wolf back from Itadori. "I got this for you!" You beamed, holding up the wolf to Megumi. He felt his face heat up some more, looking at the prize you won for him. "...Are you sure..?" He frowned, looking closely at it. "You played a lot of games for the tickets...shouldn't you get yourself something?" You shook your head, smiling up at him. "I got it for you." A sigh left Megumi as he smiled warmly, exchanging the stuffed animals with you. He watched happily as you did just what he thought you would, wrapping the dragon around your shoulders and beaming brightly as you practically nuzzled its snout. He helped you attach the keychain to your bag, carefully attaching it to not break it. You put the other prizes into your bag, smiling up at Megumi. "We should do this again! When we have more money, of course." You chuckled, and Megumi nodded, smiling down at you. "And I want that squeaky hammer too! Come on, hurry up!"

[mimisempai]

Nowhere to hide

Summary

Muriel organizes a movie night at the bookstore. 

Everything would be perfect if Aziraphale, having had more than enough to drink, hadn't gotten too clingy and affectionate with Crowley. Thus giving Nina, Maggie and Muriel a much more interesting show than the movie on TV.

Notes

In need of some levity… so I indulge myself in some fun fluff…

On Ao3

Rating G -  972 words

Crowley had been unable to concentrate for over ten minutes and didn't know what was going on in the movie they were watching. 

Muriel had come up with the idea of a movie night and, of course, neither he nor Aziraphale had been able to say no. Not that they'd wanted to in the first place. They were both delighted to see the angel thrive and expand their knowledge of the world, whatever that might be.

The current problem for the demon was that Aziraphale, after drinking a little more than he should have, had become very affectionate and clingy. Which normally wouldn't have bothered Crowley if they were alone. But they weren't. 

Nina sat at the other end of the sofa, Maggie cross-legged at her feet, and Muriel sat against Maggie.

However, if they weren't hiding the nature of their relationship, Crowley didn't necessarily feel like being so demonstrative in public.

The demon tried to move a little closer to the end of the sofa to distance himself from the angel, hoping he'd understand, but it was all in vain as Aziraphale's head slid down his arm to rest on his chest, and Crowley had no choice but to wrap his arm around Aziraphale's shoulders to hold him there.

Muriel and Maggie seemed transfixed by what was on the TV, so Crowley glanced at Nina, hoping she was also engrossed in the movie and hadn't noticed. Of course, that wasn't the case, for even though her eyes were fixed on the screen, the expression and grin on her face left no doubt that she had seen it all, and even knew that Crowley was watching her at that very moment.

Worst of all, now, emboldened by Crowley's arm around his shoulders, Aziraphale was not only clingy, but much more affectionate. The angel had started to kiss him on the neck, which the demon was far from finding unpleasant, but then again, not when they had company. 

Crowley tried to nudge him gently, whispering, "Angel, please...the movie's not over." 

He saw Maggie's shoulders begin to shake, followed by a giggle she couldn't hold back.

"All right, my love," Aziraphale replied in a voice so clear that no one in the room could ignore it. The chorus of giggles at his feet and the chuckle to his left proved that they had heard him perfectly, and Crowley couldn't help but blush slightly.

He muttered, "Angel..."

As for Aziraphale, he hadn't moved an inch, continuing to kiss the hollow of Crowley's neck. 

The demon tried to reason with him again, "Aziraphale, please, we're not alone...please stop."

Aziraphale looked up and sulked, "But sweetheart..."

Sweetheart! Aziraphale had never called him that before!

He would never hear the end of it. 

Aziraphale continued, "But sweetheart, I only see you, so it's like we're alone."

Nina chuckled again as Maggie and Muriel swooned together.

"So cute!"

"Aw, how sweet!"

Crowley turned his head to Nina and she mouthed, "Sweetheart."

The demon tried to appear scolding, but the blush on his cheeks and the angel clinging to him made it far from convincing. 

His attention returned to Aziraphale, who was running his fingers over Crowley's face and had just stopped on his lips, "Hm... those lips, I want to kiss them so badly... please Crowley..."

It was too much! 

He tried to push Aziraphale back a little harder, but the angel wrapped his arms around his neck and his lips were almost against the demon's, saying in a pleading voice, "Please... please... kiss me."

Crowley would have succumbed in a second if it hadn't been for their friends, but that was out of the question, so he settled for holding Aziraphale against his chest and whispering in his ear, "Angel... a little patience, all right... I promise we'll soon be able to do everything you want."

He felt Aziraphale nod against him and sighed with relief when the angel just snuggled up to him without trying anything else. 

Nina said softly, "Muriel, Maggie, I think it's time for us to go."

Crowley was grateful, though he knew he would pay for it sooner or later.

Muriel looked up at them and replied with a fake pout, "Too bad, the show behind me was almost as interesting as the one on TV." 

Crowley replied, "You, you're getting more and more cheeky. I don't like it."

"Liar. You love it," Nina muttered.

She was right, of course.

Nina chuckled, "I don't think the rest of the show is for us, honey." 

Then she stood up and approached the embracing couple, leaning over to say in the demon's ear, "You two are adorable. I'm really happy for you. For both of you." 

Then, still with the same smile on her lips, she began to walk away. 

Muriel, who had gotten up, approached Crowley and kissed him on the cheek, "Thanks for tonight. But next time, don't keep Aziraphale all to yourself... sweetheart," and with a burst of laughter, they bounced off to join Nina.

Maggie leaned over and kissed him on the other cheek before saying, "You're so adorable when you're not grumpy."

Crowley didn't know where to put himself, unable to react or evade with his burden in his arms. And all three of them knew it. Traitors.

But as the door closed and he looked down at the angel now sleeping against his chest, he told himself he could handle a little sarcasm.

Aziraphale murmured against his chest, "You're so warm, Crowley, can I stay like this forever?"

Crowley laughed softly and replied, "Anything you want, Angel."

He placed a tender kiss on Aziraphale's hair, and the angel snuggled a little closer to him. 

The movie continued on the TV, but Crowley didn't care as he was much more captivated by his beloved resting in his arms.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Ineffable Growing Love series : here (After season 2)

Ineffable Husbands masterlist : here (Before season 2)

[manyblinkinglights]

anytaur quarstion

Sorry im doing this thru a submission instead of an ask bc i want bigger text limit and also to insert images... clarity and allat. i hope thats ok...

Recently i got an actuual headset for vrc so that i could Physically Become the Beast of my Dreams. your rig is everything to me and makes me so so happy. ive wanted this forever. i cant thank you enough for this. main thing im having to fiddle with now in specific is forefoot pickup! didn't make much sense to bother with it back when i was desktop only but having tried it now with actual real hands, the whimsy is impeccable. hands still feel a bit weird though, and im almost certain i messed with something i shouldnt have in trying to set it up, so I thought it might make sense to ask you abt it considering you designed the system and probably have more insight! I'd try for figuring it out myself thru trial and error, but i am very new to vr and having to go in and out to tweak and rebuild avatar versions seems disastrously tiring. and i dont think i'd have much luck trying to fiddle with unity through a vr virtual desktop @~@ time is money....i miss unemployment...so I hoped this could expedite some of that trial+error+rebuilding time. maybe. god. longass preamble over.

point being: in the recent (~6mo ago...) setup videos you did, i feel like the "A" pose you got for your sample models is generally more "A" shaped than what my beast has procured. This may be on account of my beast being quite lanky and having long as hell forearms and quite short shoulders and upper arms. in addition, by default, just moving them down on the global y axis like on the script instructions, the SenseHand receivers end up in a weird position compared to the paws, atleast based on what i think i am picking up from the script instructions. image below.

please ignore the shit ass weight painting/distortion for the paw im new to doing 3d models, im honestly just impressed this thing exists at all.

anyways in the image (front isometric) the right paw (viewer's right not model's right) is set to the values you recommend in your setup video, and the other one is unchanged from default rotation just as a baseline i guess.

Anyways my real question boils down to: what might you recommend to focus on in tweaking forefoot pickup? would rotating thigh and/or shin pickups to better match an "A" pose make sense? Should I move the SenseHands on X axis to be more better "Held" like it says in the instructions? is it ok if the sensehands fall into the floor from "A" pose?

regardless, thank you for your time, dedication, and willingness to share both. this project has been living rent free in my brain ever since i first saw the vrc horse speedrun on youtube (exactly what i had been looking for after god knows how long looking around) and desperately checked your youtube page to see what else you'd been up to. i think that was around or just before when the LittleKitty port video was recent or new, so it's stuck with me for atleast 2 years and i hope to still interface with this rig for many more years to come! please dont feel pressured to a response either lol, i understand if you dont really have a good suggestion or answer. im sorry if i overwhelm you with wall of text. here is an image of the beast in action to hopefully warm the spirits MUCH LOVE!

[cateyesinlove]

Elain and Anwar

Anwar meaning ; bright light

Anwar doesn’t remember a lot of his first few weeks in the world. Him and Elain were silent for the most of it. Him never flying and her barely existing, he spend all of that time perched on her shoulder and never moving unless she was laying down, he was at the top of the bed almost as keeping guard.

Before Elain was able to break through the haze, he was just there, everything felt fuzzy and he could hear conversations and feel the grief and pain Elain felt. How scared she was of everything passing through her head, the visions, and the voices.

One of the only things Anwar can remember is how safe Elain felt at very odd times, some of them were when both her sisters were around her, and the only other one was when the shadow singer was around.

Anwar absolutely hates Lucien and he heavily dislikes Azriel. He gets along very well with Senka, tho.

He is very indifferent to Luciens dæmon, Eletta, and she is the same to him.

When they were captured by the cauldron, Anwar could feel Elains guilt, fear and anger towards herself for being captured, he could also feel her sadness believing no one would come for her.

Anwar knew she wanted to hope Azriel would come for her but would never hope for it, to painful and scared to be disappointed. Anwar had hope that at least Nesta would come for them. They both were very surprised when Azriel and Feyre showed up, Anwar could feel the relive and the sense of safety the shadowsinger gave Elain.

He wasn’t happy with how everything caused Elain to feel. The overwhelming and confusing cloud of thoughts and emotions it caused her, making her space out and dread consuming her. Her engagement, a mating bond and the shadowsinger. Elains emotions we’re everywhere all the time, she suffered in silence, never bothering anyone and hiding it. No one noticing.

Only Anwar and the twins having been there for the worst of all. The nightmares sometimes haunted him to. All the death and destruction, the suffering Elain saw.

Elains fathers death.

When Elain came to terms with her feelings for azriel and decided starting dropping hints, Anwar was very against it, telling her it was to soon and being wary of her heart. Elain told him that Azriel would never hurt her.

Anwar almost clawed Azriel’s eyes out when the almost kiss happened. He had been in the haze of the moment, next to Senka, wings almost touching and then senka had gone rigged and flew to Azriel’s side, he had stoped it and called a mistakes.

His shadows taking him away before Anwar had his way with him.

“ Elain,” he had called her name as she sobbed with her hand covering her mouth and the other one holding her neck where the necklace had been before she returned it. She was on the floor with her back against her door and her knees up to her chest.

Anwars had landed on her knees, “ Elain.” He called this time and when she looked at him, heartbroken once more, not enough. He swore to kill every man in the world who would hurt her Elain again.

“ You are worth it.” He said holding her gaze. “ you are so much more than anyone has ever given credit to you for. You are strong and gentle, and there is nothing wrong with that. You aren’t in the wrong for choosing a different way to grieve and cope. No one can make you feel bad about yourself unless you allow them and even if you do, I wont. I don’t allow anyone to judge you or criticize you without knowing your heart.” He snuggled his face on her wet cheek. “ You will always have me Elain, and If the shadowsinger doesn’t feel the same way is his loss.”

[kydrogendragon]

Febuwhump - "Bite Down on This"

Pairing: Vague Dreamling, Vague Hobrinthian Words: 1279 Warnings: Eye Gouging Ao3 Link Here

“Well? Can you draw it?” The Corinthian huffs in annoyance. The Nightmare glares down at Hob who’s currently seated on the couch of the living room in the house he’s rented, head in his hands. He’s still dressed in his guard attire, the gun given to him still attached at his waist.

When he’d first been led down into the basement of Fawney Rig, it took every ounce of strength he had not to pull the gun on every bastard there. His friend, his Stranger, sat bare as a babe in that damned glass prison. And then he’d looked up at him with eyes wide for his Stranger and looked crushed when Hob turned away. Christ, he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to do this.

“Gadling, snap out of it. What did you see?” The Corinthian’s voice melded into triplicate, higher and lower pitches stacked on top of each other.

“I— there was glass. And iron. And he was there, sitting in that bloody thing that was suspended in the air over some sort of fancy markings.” He manages to get out, trying to recall any details of what was on the ground. He hadn’t been allowed to get too close — the symbols were important he was told. But Hob had been able to stare at them for a good long while on his first guard shift. He’d been hoping to go alone, but it doesn’t sound like he’ll be so lucky anytime soon.

“You’re useless,” the Nightmare sighs.

“I’m trying my best here! Sorry for not being a walking dictionary on magic runes!” Hob bites back. What he wanted to do was just go back and murder every son of a bitch in that place and smash down the glass that’s trapping his dear friend, but apparently, that could be bad. When the Corinthian first bothered to explain anything other than saying they were going to break his Stranger out, he’d said there could be other laws at work. Burgess could have bound his friend to him or maybe to the house or even something else. And freeing him would only work if whatever he’s bound to was destroyed as well.

So. Research was needed. Which was how Hob ended up becoming a damn guard for the Burgess family. Took a good six months to finally work himself into a basement shift, and that was only after the Corinthian “took care” of another guard so there would be an opening.

The Corinthian sighs as he unsheathes his knife from the shoulder holsters he wears. Hob looks up at him, warily. “What are you doing?”

“I know a way you can show me those runes you saw.”

“Oh? And it involves that knife, does it?”

The Nightmare grins wide and Hob has no doubt the teeth behind his glasses are smiling too. “Oh indeed. You see, for the small price of one of your eyes, I can see everything that you saw in perfect detail.”

Hob swallows as he eyes the knife in the Corinthian’s hand. “You’re sure?”

“Positive.”

“Will it hurt?”

“Absolutely.”

Hob closes his eyes with a groan. He presses his forehead against his clasped hands and takes a few moments to appreciate having both of his eyes before he speaks.

“Fine. Do it.”

The Corinthian’s straddled across Hob’s waist, one hand gripping Hob’s chin like a vice, the other hovering the dagger just above Hob’s right eye. Hob’s hands are bound underneath him.

He hates this. He really, really hates this. He also hates how much the Corinthian is smiling with all three mouths as he leans over Hob. “Alright now, just don’t move. It’ll hurt less if you don’t move.”

“God’s bloody wounds, just get it over with already.”

“Here, bite down on this so you don’t break your damn jaw.” The Corinthian says, pushing a rolled strip of leather into his mouth. He gives the Nightmare a small nod — as best he could, anyways, with his chin being held as tightly as it was. Then, the knife lowers.

There’s a surprising lack of pain at first as the dagger slides between his eyes and its socket. Then it hits. Pain radiates out like a sunburst, fire in his nerves as each part of him fights against the intrusion. He screams into the leather, his body tensing and trying to thrash against the weight on top of him. The Corinthian just tuts as he turns the knife downward.

Hob feels something detach. It’s a feeling that sends a shiver down his spine and makes his animal instincts flinch away. It’s wrong, it hurts, he wants it to stop. There’s blood trailing down his face. He tastes iron on his tongue and he doesn’t know if it’s the blood from his eye or from biting down so hard. Hob breathes through his nose, the panicked breath coming out as staccato puffs of air.

“There’s a good boy, just stay still for a few moments longer,” The Corinthian purrs. The dagger moves again, winding across the other side of his eye socket. He’s pretty sure his eyelids are fucked up at this point, not that he can differentiate the pain by now. His entire face pulses as nerves fire and blood leaks. Distantly, he thinks that they should have put down garbage bags before starting all this.

The knife slides down and does a few circles around the edge of his socket before the Corinthian sets the blade down beside Hob’s head. He’s not sure when his vision faded away, but all he can see is fingers reaching down from the left side of his face and reach into the blind spot of his vision.

A weight is lifted and air rushes through the opening. Hob hisses as the cold breeze settles among the open nerves and flesh and bone. He arches off the couch in pain as the Corinthian just chuckles. Hob’s chin is released and he immediately slams his head back against the cushion of the couch. He screams into the leather.

“Alright. Time to see what you saw.” Hob watches through his single eye as the Corinthian places the bloody orb — God’s Wounds, that’s his eye... That’s really his eye — into the mouth of his left ocular cavity. Teeth surround the gelatinous sphere, the golden brown of his iris staring back at him. Then, the Corinthian bites down.

If he wasn’t going to be sick from the pain, watching his own eye splash into jelly in the Corinthian’s mouth was going to do it. Blood trickles down from his ocular mouth with a small tongue darts out and licks up the spill. The Nightmare tilts his head back and sighs like it was a shot of top-shelf whisky and not Hob’s fucking eye that he just ate.

“Oh Robbie boy, you have lived a delicious life, haven’t you? It’s not often I get to sample such a tasty vintage like you.” He says with a smirk.

“Fuck you,” Hob manages to get out before his body shuts down from the pain.

He wakes up in his bed some time later. Hob reaches his hand up to the right side of his face and feels bandages around the skin. At least that prick had the decency to fix him up. He sighs and looks over at the night stand. The clock claims it’s sometime around five in the morning. He wasn’t due on shift again until three in the afternoon, thankfully.

A note rests beside the clock which Hob reaches out and reads.

Gadling-

Figured out your runes. Just grabbing a few things. We can get him out tonight. Be prepared.

- C

Hob smiles.

[standfucker]

(you sent this to my main blog so I screencapped to post it here)

you sent this three days ago and I never replied because I was still in the shock stage from the recent loss in my family.

I'm doing a lot better now so I think I'm up to answering this.

I couldn't decide between Marco and Jinbe (who share the top spot as my faves) so I'll do Marco, mostly because...I couldn't think of one for Jinbe? I don't know that I really think about these things very much, which I hope doesn't reflect poorly on me as a writer.

Anyway. I think Marco shoulders a lot of responsibility, not just because he's the first mate, but because Pops can't be bothered to do things like paperwork and scheduling and whatnot. I HC that Marco juggles taking care of all this with studying medicine on his own time. Hell, he might not even participate in the actual sailing of the boat given how busy he could get, and the crew's so big I can see him having essentially graduated from doing stuff like rigging and rope hauling. But anyway, Marco is very busy and does a lot of thankless work.

I also HC that at some point, his crewmates recognize this... and do something for him to show their appreciation. I don't know what this is. It could be throwing a party, it could be forcibly taking over some of his duties and letting him just kick back. But I think the division commanders would organize the whole crew to just do something nice for him one day.

[isabellafoster13]

This was requested on Wattpad by CelineCourageux.

This takes place in the modern day. 

I hope you enjoy!

Amusement Park Prize (Mira x Lucy)

"Come on, Lucy!" 

Mira begged her girlfriend while they sat next to each other in class. Lucy shook her head, saying, "you know I'm not interested in Amusement Parks. They're too loud and crowded, and there aren't a lot of rides I'd even go on. Plus, the lines are always a mile long and the games are all rigged." 

Mira pouted. She and Lucy had been dating for a few months now, and all of their dates were in parks, at coffee shops, or at movie theaters. She wanted to go some a bit more fun. When she heard from Lisanna that the annual amusement park was swinging around tomorrow, she decided that it would be the perfect date night. However, she didn't think that convincing her girlfriend to go would be so difficult. 

She felt Lucy rest her hand on her shoulder and heard her say, "we can do something else, Mira. How about we go see that new movie that Evergreen and Elfman saw? They said that it was really good, didn't they?" 

Mira shook her head, exclaiming, "but I want to go to the amusement park! It'll be fun, I promise!" 

Lucy sighed, "well, I don't like them." 

"Have you ever even gone to one?" 

"Yes, once, and it was terrible. I don't want to go to another one that'll just be a disappointment." 

"But, Lucy, this one is amazing! Everybody in school goes every year! It's the best amusement park in Fiore, so I know that you'll enjoy it!" 

Lucy opened her mouth to speak when Natsu dragged over a chair and loudly asked, "what are you two talking about?" 

Mira was the one who answered, "I'm trying to convince Lucy to go to the amusement park with me." 

Natsu's eyes lit up at the mention and grabbed Lucy's shoulders, shaking her as he practically yelled, "you need to come, Luce! That place is awesome! It has the fastest rides you can imagine, the funest games, and, best of all, the greatest food to ever exist!" 

Mira giggled as she watched Lucy try to get out of her best friend's grasp before she got whiplash. The blonde then responded, "I don't know. Is it usually crowded?" 

Natsu answered, "not really. It's big, so you shouldn't be bothered by anyone." 

Mira looked to the front of the room and saw Erza and Gray. She called over to them and, when they looked at her, she waved them over to the back of the classroom. When the pair arrived, she explained, "I'm trying to get Lucy to come to the amusement park with me tomorrow. Lend a hand?" 

Erza and Gray both smiled. The redhead praised, "you really should try it, Lucy. It has something for everybody, I can assure you. If you don't like fast rides, then it has calmer ones. If you don't like rides at all, then you give the games a try. They are a lot of fun to play." 

Gray chimed in, "yeah! The food is great too. It's so much fun, even Laxus likes to go." 

As Lucy hummed thoughtfully and stared down at her desk, Mira clapped her hands together in front of herself, right underneath her chin. She smiled at her girlfriend, blue eyes sparkling with hope. Her silent pleading was impossible to miss. 

She watched with delight as Lucy sighed and relented, "alright, Mira, we can go to the amusement park together." 

Mira cheered as she wrapped her arms around her girlfriend and planted a big kiss on her cheek. She was determined to make sure that Lucy had a great time tomorrow. 

The couple walked through the ground of the amusement park, occasionally seeing some of their friends. Natsu and Gray were going on roller coasters and seeing who would get sick first, it was always Natsu, while Erza waited for them on the ground, eating whatever strawberry-flavored treat she had managed to find. Lisanna and Juvia quickly joined them. Evergreen and Elfman were going on the Tunnel of Love together while Laxus, Freed, and Bixlow competed against each in some games. Levy was pulling Gajeel along, the large man complaining the entire time. They also saw Wendy and Romeo, who were both heading into the Maze of Mirrors after Romeo's father apparently got lost and needed help getting out. 

Mira looked at her girlfriend, asking, "so, what do you wanna do first?" 

Lucy shrugged, causing Mira to frown. The white-haired woman looked around, searching for something that they could do. More specifically, she was looking for a game that looked interesting, guessing that playing a game would be the best way to get Lucy into the park. 

She quickly spotted a game that had a prize that she knew Lucy would love. She grabbed her girlfriend's hand and pulled her toward the game before she pointed up at the prize and asked, "what do you think of that?" 

She watched as Lucy looked up at the prize. It looked like a snowman, with a white body with an orange, horn-like nose that resembled a carrot. When Lucy's eyes lit up upon seeing it and she grinned, Mira placed some jewel onto the stand and asked to play. 

The carny smiled at her as he explained the game, "all you have to do is knock down all of these clowns with that water gun. If you can manage that, then you can have any prize you choose." 

Mira nodded and took up the water gun, resting the butt against the front of her shoulder. She waited for the wooden clown figures to start moving before she began shooting water at them. She silently thanked Laxus for teaching her to win when they were dating a few years ago. 

'Just aim for where the freaky clown think is going to be,' he had told her. She did just that, picking a clown figure to shoot down and aiming at where it was heading. Once it got close enough, she pulled the trigger, a large burst of water knocking it down. 

It didn't take her long to knock down all of the targets. She listened to Lucy clap beside her as she pointed at the large, stuffed toy and announced, "I'd like that one, please." 

She quickly accepted the toy from the carny and handed it to Lucy, watching with delight as her girlfriend proudly proclaimed, "I'll name it Plue! Thank you so much, Mira!" 

Mira giggled and entwined her fingers with Lucy's, saying, "of course, Lucy. Now, how about we go try the Ferris Wheel next? The line is never very long around this time." 

With that, the couple was off to the aforementioned ride, later sharing a kiss when they reached the top. 

[mypoisonedvine]

𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙮 𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙖𝙡 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 (𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘝𝘐𝘐 - 𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙖𝙡𝙚) || sub!bucky barnes x dominatrix!reader

(𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘐) (𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘐𝘐) (𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘐𝘐𝘐) (𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘐𝘝) (𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘝) (𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘝𝘐)

𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 || the finale.

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 || 3.5k

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 || fluff, angst, implied smut, domestic goodness, more EMOTIONS!!!

six months ago...

Bucky wrung his hands a few times before knocking on your door, feeling his heart beat a little faster when he could hear the sounds of your footsteps on the other side. He'd been dreaming of a day like this for so long— the day he finally acted on this secret obsession he had, the day he stopped fantasizing and started realizing— but all this time, part of him had never really thought he'd go through with it. I mean, there's a pretty big difference between jerking off to videos of dominant women and actually getting spanked, slapped, and choked by a dominatrix after paying her an insane amount of money per hour.

But frankly, Bucky needed a big difference from what he'd been doing. He'd been alone for a little too long, he needed someone else's touch before he lost his mind. And he knew that he needed something more substantial than a hook-up, someone who wouldn't expect him to be dominant at all. Even in a kink-less, vanilla hook-up, there’s still an onus of dominance, that’s what Bucky had realised. He’s still supposed to initiate, to guide, to be fully in control… and he hates how it feels to be in control. He’s not used to it, and it doesn’t feel right, and it just makes him sure he’ll do something wrong. So here he was, standing at your door, hoping you’d take away his freedom to do something wrong.

The latch turned and you opened it.

Fuck.

You looked great. Too great, almost overwhelming. Even better than the pictures on your website.

You looked so much softer than the women he saw whenever he searched up femdom porn (yes, that was pretty much the first thing he did once he figured out google— thankfully he had also figured out incognito mode), but your presence was twice as commanding. Your eyes scanned over him quickly and your face stayed annoyingly stoic.

You invited him in; And since then, you’d had him wrapped around your finger.

Even knowing to a certain extent what he was getting into, he could’ve never prepared for how quickly he’d fall for you. Not that he was exactly new to the feeling, but he thought guilt might eat him alive: because of course he felt awful for developing real feelings for you. You were just doing your job and he was falling into the same trap that probably every dumbass client fell into.

Or maybe they actually knew what they were doing and understood how to separate fantasy from reality. He couldn’t decide which one was worse.

He spent a few hours trying to decide while staring up at his ceiling— certainly a better way to spend the time than being social or taking care of unfinished business, right?

But leave it to you to change everything with just three words. Make me yours.

He hadn’t stopped thinking about those words— or about the way you said them— since the moment you spoke them. He hadn’t stopped changing his mind on if he could really believe you were his or not. He wanted to, more than anything; and in those brief moments he did, he felt a joy that he had no idea what to do with.

He frowned as he turned his back towards the mirror, looking over his shoulder to watch his finger run over the fading scars on his back. They’d be gone for good in less than a week, but he knew you had left plenty of permanent marks on him— just unfortunately not those that anyone else could see. He liked the way these scars looked under your fingertips much more than his; he liked everything about being in your arms.

Since you’d texted him to ask if you could have a serious talk with him soon, he worried he wouldn’t get to feel that again. In fact, nothing worried him more.

He was typically antsy as he waited for you to answer the door— he had been since that very first time so long ago— but this felt entirely different: not as jittery, but a thousand times more anxious.

At first he’d been wishing you’d answer it right away, but then he heard your bolt turn and panic landed on him like a dangling anvil dropping on a cartoon character. Suddenly the last thing he wanted was for you to open that door, to be standing there looking all perfect and shit, to smile at him and greet him and invite him in. He didn’t want it; he couldn’t take it.

But you did it all anyway, though it was obviously and immediately a new situation entirely, compared to every other time you’d done it.

You were dressed differently, still formal but definitely toned down. Nothing sexual, at least not objectively. And your smile, though it still made his heart skip a beat just like always, was noticeably softer and maybe a bit sadder.

He stepped in past you, and you surprised him by sitting next to him on the couch rather than across from him on your chair. “Do you want, like, water or anything?” you asked, breaking the silence for a moment.

“No, I’m fine,” he nodded.

Bucky had gotten pretty good at silence these past few years; it didn’t bother him, in fact he barely even noticed it. But this silence made him remember why everyone else hated silence so much: it was heavy and thick and made him overcome with the need to blurt something out. “Everyone calls me Bucky,” he finally admitted. You smiled.

“Do you want me to call you that?” you asked.

He considered your question, trying to imagine you saying it. “I… I used to think it would be better, but now I like the way you say ‘James’ too much.”

“If you thought it would be better, why did you ask me to call you James?” you pressed.

“Because I didn’t want you to know who I was.”

“I know who you are,” you informed him. “I always knew.”

He swallowed as the pit formed in his gut, glancing away to hide from your gaze. “You did a good job of… of pretending you didn’t. You never seemed scared of me.”

“Because I wasn’t. And I’m not.”

He couldn’t imagine how; but then again, if there was any truly fearless woman, he figured it would be you. “I thought you’d beat me up better if you knew what I’d done,” he admitted, almost smiling but not exactly feeling very happy. “Thought you might want… revenge.”

“Surprised that didn’t make you want to tell me.”

He laughed a bit at that. “Yeah, fair enough.”

You asked him a very different question next, one that made his throat suddenly dry: "Have you ever had something that was all your own?" you spoke gently.

"Not for a long time…" he trailed off, letting his eyes unfocus as he stared down at your floor before finding the courage to look up at you again. “Is that what you wanna be?” he asked, already wishing he hadn’t said anything in case it was too presumptuous, but you just smiled back at him in a shy sort of way.

“Something like that,” you mitigated.

His eyes darted around your face— from your eyes glancing away, to your lips that you gnawed on for a moment, to the little crease between your brows— and he found himself leaning forward before he even realized it. “Can I kiss you?” he asked quietly.

You didn’t answer, you just kissed him first; he was so relieved that you did it, too, that you took control so easily and just let him melt into your kiss. As good as it felt to submit to you, he enjoyed the new freedom he had in this moment as well— the freedom to reach up and grab your waist, to brush his hand over your hair, to tilt his head and deepen the kiss further.

It was hard to define exactly where it went from innocent to sensual to sexual, but by the time you were straddling his lap and running your fingers through his hair, it was definitely sexual.

“I want you,” you breathed against his lips.

“Have me,” he offered immediately, “I’m yours. Always was.”

He breathed in sharply when you moved your hips just right to rub up against his swelling cock through his jeans, making him grip your waist a bit harder. “Good boy,” you whispered. “You’re so good, James.”

He believed you this time, finally.

For your first real date, he took you to Coney Island. Not the classiest affair, and he promised to take you somewhere really nice next, but you didn’t mind. It was jarring to see you in casual clothes for the first time, something summer-y and light which was everything opposite to how he was used to seeing you; but he liked it, and he liked knowing a secret about you as you walked through a crowd of carnival-goers that were none the wiser.

He walked you through the fair and explained how he remembered it, showed you the few things that hadn’t changed much. He bought you a hot dog and even won you a prize at one of the games; that one where you throw a baseball and it measures your pitch speed? Yeah, it’s rigged, but he pitched lefty and it seemed to even everything out. (It’s not cheating, okay? It’s beating them at their own game, literally.)

So with a massive teddy under one arm and his waist wrapped in your other, you two walked through the winding pier, under twinkling lights and over walkways towering over the ocean below. And then you fooled around a bit on the ferris wheel. It was the ideal Coney Island experience, for sure.

Bucky didn’t have a ton of friends, per se, but he was excited for you to meet them. Meeting friends was certainly a step, though; hopefully a step you were willing to take, but he didn’t want to ask you to do it without at least having a title to introduce you with.

“I want you to be my girlfriend,” he finally told you.

“I kinda thought I already was,” you laughed.

And so, with more pride than he might have ever had for anything before, Bucky finally got to take you to meet everyone (‘everyone’ being a mix of his friends and his coworkers, who may or may not be his friends because he couldn’t always tell) and say “I want you guys to meet my girlfriend.”

Of course you were amazing with all of them; you continued that tactful “I know who you are but I’m pretending I don’t to be nice” thing that you’d started with him, and everyone seemed to appreciate it. You cracked a couple jokes, everyone laughed.

You lied about how you and Bucky met, or at least answered very strategically. Everyone at least pretended to believe you.

Afterwards, they all said something about how great you were or about how lucky he was. The only thing he ever said back was “I know.”

Now that he could kiss you without breaking any rules, he never wanted to stop. He hardly ever did, actually. He kissed you basically whenever he could get the chance; you two didn’t even go out much anymore because he wasn’t very good at keeping his hands to himself, but you weren’t exactly complaining about staying in. You were too busy kissing him back, and teasing him mercilessly while you were at it, to do that.

You had already found the fastest way to get him needy and begging, not that any way took very long. If you kissed him while you straddled his lap, wrapping your arms around him and slowly grinding against him, he lost it in minutes. And you really seemed to get a kick out of watching him lose it, just as much as always.

It made him realize that the way you looked at him before, in sessions and scenes together, was a lot less of an act than he’d assumed at the time. He just thought you were a really good actress, or that he was really whipped; and maybe the first was true, and the second was absolutely true, but regardless it had become clear that you had it almost as bad as he did from the beginning. It gave him even more respect for how well you controlled yourself, he certainly hadn’t had much self-control at the time— after all the whole ordeal was about losing control, and occasionally about trying to gain it back.

He didn’t ask you to quit your job. He didn’t want or expect you to; but you did cut down your hours, which gave the two of you more time together.

To be totally honest, part of him got a bit titillated to imagine you with your other clients. He didn’t like the idea of other men touching you, but he smirked at the thought of them begging to touch you and being denied; he liked knowing that you didn’t do with them even half of the stuff you’d done with him when he was your client.

But he wasn’t your client anymore. He was your boyfriend, and he wanted the world to know it.

six months later...

He let you struggle to reach the top shelf for a moment, just because you looked cute on your tip-toes with the tip of your tongue sticking out of the corner of your mouth, before he finally relented and helped you grab the bottle of rice wine vinegar.

“Thanks,” you smiled as he set it in the cart.

After that you let him grab everything, content to stand on the end of the cart and push you around as you reminded him what else you needed.

“We’re out of Captain Crunch!” you remembered as he passed the cereal aisle, pointing to try to get him to turn.

“Yes, and we need to stay that way,” Bucky explained sternly, “that shit is addictive. Only way to avoid it is to not have it in the house.”

You frowned but accepted that he was absolutely right, though you groaned when he took you to the refrigerated section to stock up on chicken breasts. “I swear, you would eat these for breakfast if you didn’t think I’d judge you for it,” you joked.

“What’s wrong with chicken breasts?”

“They’re just so… bland!”

“Not if you season them right,” he corrected.

“Which you don’t,” you rolled your eyes. “Come on, at least splurge on some chicken thighs. They’re basically the same but so much more flavorful.”

“Fine, but no more making fun of my cooking,” Bucky decided, placing the breasts back on the shelf and grabbing two packs of thighs instead. “I’m still adapting to 21st century sensibilities.”

“Right,” you nodded, though he caught your smile in the corner of his eye— you knew he couldn’t exactly claim to still be as conservative as he was raised to be in every way.

Like any well-planned grocery run, it ended at the frozen section where you got some fruit bars and frozen vegetables (you had this theory that frozen vegetables tasted better in fried rice than fresh ones, and so far you’d proven him right) and he got a pizza to have for dinner in a pinch. When shopping alone before, he always did self-checkout to avoid being seen anymore than he had to… he still did it with you, but he didn’t even think about who might be looking at him, because all he saw was you.

You drove for this trip, and he always felt oddly soothed by riding passenger with you at the wheel. He liked to close his eyes and lean back a bit, or occasionally look over at you (but if he did it too much you complained that he was being creepy and distracting you). It shouldn’t be too much of a surprise that he enjoyed the feeling of you taking control, considering everything, but it was one of those little ways that he hadn’t expected. He just felt so comfortable, so safe with you, and never he felt like he was a burden for asking you to take the lead when he didn’t trust himself with it. And that applied to everything— driving, cooking, speaking up in crowds, all those little things that sometimes made him anxious.

There were some things he didn’t have any trouble being dominant about, though. He was very protective of you, for example, and tended to be uptight about how late you went out for walks or where you should be going alone. And he didn’t struggle to ask you for what he wanted— he was getting a lot better at asking for help, specifically.

He used to ask you to say that you loved him, instead of just saying ‘I love you’ himself, because for some reason it was easier to make you do it first. It started as something he’d beg for in the throes of passion, fingers digging into your skin as his eyes watered (as they often did in intimate moments): please, say you love me— jus’ need to hear you say it, please? And you were always sweet about it in return, of course I love you, James, my good boy, I love you so so much. But then he’d ask you to say it whenever he felt like it— he’d come up behind you while you were reading or cooking or something and kiss the top of your head or the shell of your ear and try to act nonchalant as he asked you love me, right?

You’d laugh and roll your eyes before you answered, but it was, thankfully, always a ‘yes.’ Eventually you figured out how often you needed to say it to make him stop asking all the time, which was probably a little too often.

“I love you,” you blurted out randomly as you turned on your signal and leaned a bit to make sure it was safe to make a left— case in point.

“I love you too,” he answered back with a smile.

“I don’t mind saying it so often,” you added, “but you know that I love you even when I’m not saying it, right? I love you all the time.”

It was a simple question, probably mostly rhetorical, but it hit him harder than he expected. “Yeah, I know,” he managed to get out evenly enough that you didn’t notice he was tearing up a bit.

He put the groceries away while you took the trash out; you liked to keep the fridge pretty organized, and it was an adjustment at first, but by now Bucky had it down pat. Before you, he hadn’t even considered that the contents of a refrigerator could be aesthetically pleasing.

Dinner was leftovers in front of the TV— you two were almost done with Frasier, but after that you had ten seasons of Friends to get through. You had tried to encourage him to watch more challenging stuff— you know, True Detective, Hannibal, dark cerebral stuff with arguably more artistic merit than classic sitcoms— but Bucky had had enough darkness in his life that he didn’t need it in his fiction. Maybe he’d find the time to catch up on the last 80 years of dramas and murder mysteries after he caught up on the last 80 years of comedy.

After dinner you were going to do yoga and Bucky, not in the mood to embarrass himself with that, retired to the bedroom a bit early to read his book— he’d heard a lot about this Harry Potter guy and now that he was on the fourth book and could hardly put it down, he understood the hype. He related a bit to the unwilling war hero in its protagonist; most of the time the series enthralled him, but occasionally something would hit too deep and he’d have to put it away for a couple days. At the moment, though, he was in one of the easy parts where it was just about schoolwork and childhood antics.

He instinctively glanced at the door when he heard you open it— he wasn’t sure how long it had been time-wise, but he’d gotten through quite a few pages— but he only quickly looked up at you as you shut the door behind you, before returning his attention to the book he was reading. “So, Bucky…” you began.

“Yeah?” he mumbled.

“James.”

It wasn’t any one thing that got his attention— not just the tone of your voice or the way it got a bit deeper, not just the look you gave him, not just the way the air of the room seemed to shift all at once. It was everything about you that made his body react instantly. He shut the book and set it aside, sitting up straight to look at you expectantly.

And you seemed to notice his instinctual obedience, considering you just barely smirked at him, raising an eyebrow as he spoke his reply: “Yes, Mistress?”

[tartagilicious]

genshin impact characters when jealous

→ includes | zhongli, diluc, kaeya, childe, and albedo w/ a fem reader

→ ib | xiaoqwa on tiktok! tysm for letting me use your ideas, they’re so adorable and in character I love them 😩💞 I took out venti just because i felt like the post was already long enough shkfdj

zhongli

+ my whole life by alina baraz

- zhongli’s been alive for thousands of years, looking over liyue as the country's archon — if you’d think he’s not easily bothered, you’d normally be right.

- but somehow it’s different with you. the first time he feels jealousy when he’s with you he describes it like a kettle bubbling in his chest, somewhere close to overflowing. you could only laugh at how unfamiliar he was with the emotion.

- since then, he’s grown much more accustomed to the feeling — and how could he not? in his eyes, there’s nothing that isn’t perfect about you. it’s debatable as to whether or not he’d be more upset if you weren’t hit on as often.

- the fact that he’s not jealous easily never really changes — he would place all of his faith in you if ever needed, but some people definitely test his patience. there might be a scenario or two where someone doesn’t know when to give up, and in those moments, he can be quite intimidating!

“on a typical day, all you will gleam from him is a few pieces of useless trivia, because he particularly enjoys sharing these fun tidbits with you."

zhongli is fond of many things: fragrant bouquets of violetgrass, the fine cuisine of the city he witnessed grow from rubble, as well as the many traditions that surround the summer sunsets of liyue.

it had been those topics he’d stuck to most recently, speaking highly of the customs cultivated in years past.

“every practice is meant to symbolise a kind of rebirth, for not only the crops harvested in the months prior, but also for lovers looking to celebrate time spent together."

a gentle hand finds its way to your waist, and under his touch, you know you’d agree to anything he’d planned.

that’s why you stand on the docks now, rigging the sails that belong to a ship facing guyun stone forest. the salty evening air blows east from the sea and warms your face, slipping between the gaps of your clothes and mimicking a familiar embrace.

zhongli is not far off, the sleeves of his oxford rolled up to his forearms. he makes any final preparations needed before you set sail. it’s hard to keep your eyes off of him as you continue to do your own part, heart settling high in your chest.

“need any help there?"

the markets often bustles well into the later hours of the night, so the foot traffic behind you is of little concern until a careful voice peeks out from it. you pull yourself from your thoughts abruptly, as if caught doing something shameful, to meet the eyes of the stranger who’d made the offer.

“i-i’m sorry?” you ask, letting the ropes in your grip relax slightly.

the man, though young, seems quite embarrassed at your confusion.

“my apologies, I just asked if you needed any help with that,” he gestures to the ropes in your hands before continuing. “i work down at the docks when I have time, so I know how stubborn those sails can be in a pinch."

“that’s alright, I’m an adventurer, so I’ve done this my fair share of times.” you laugh and joke politely. “it’s not so hard after a while, no?"

the man laughs with you. at this point, the conversation has gained zhongli’s attention.

“are you that comfortable on a ship? if you’re interested, I could show you some tricks to make the process easier somet—"

at the same time, you both recognise the presence of a third party; though silent, it is somewhat layered, and very pressuring. you resist a smile as the man’s expression twists in discomfort, realisation settling over his previously relaxed features.

“thank you for the offer,” keeping the joy out of your voice is harder than expected. you hope zhongli is still watching. “but I’m sure I already know all that I need to."

your gaze skirts over your shoulder to meet the one of your lover behind you. his face is set in hard lines, but when seeing you, a soft smile returns.

diluc

+ afraid by the neighbourhood

- though calm and indifferent, the underlying foundation diluc has built up is rocky at best. he prefers to busy himself when he comes upon emotions he can’t handle, and though you’ve changed these parts of him over time, there are some things that are just a bit harder to reach.

- he trusts you. that fact will never change — it’s more himself he doesn’t trust. why are you being flirted with when he’s right there? do these men have no shame, or is he just nothing for them to worry about? it’s something that keeps him up at night.

- diluc hates watching people try to sweep you, someone who despite everything loves him so dearly and so wholly, off your feet at every given opportunity.

“it started raining almost immediately when I visited jueyun karst today,” you laugh, remembering the scene of you and your party members taking shelter under the overhang of the mountains. “bennett was soaked after the first few minutes, naturally."

diluc’s pointer finger taps the mahogany bar counter rhythmically as he listens to the stories of your daily travels, a small smile pulling at the corner of his lips. this had more or less become a daily routine of yours. whether joining you for the day or hearing of it over a glass of apple cider vinegar in the evening, seeing you so content with life in teyvat brings him immense joy.

“can we get another round over here?” a patron suddenly calls drunkenly from a table not far away, holding up an empty glass with a gleeful but entirely gone laugh. diluc glances at you apologetically before taking his leave, humourously reminding you to drink slowly in light of bad examples beforehand.

you don’t mind. charles had taken the night off in advance, so the entire floor was diluc’s responsibility for the night. as you watch him converse with the said table, you can’t help but admire how capable he is — he easily shoulders the burden of work that should make up at least two more people, and remains on friendly terms with even the most uncooperative of drunks no matter how many times they’re kicked out.

you raise your glass to your mouth, taking a leisurely sip as someone slips onto the stool next to you. assuming it’s one of the aforementioned drunks, you pay them no mind. but, you’re eventually forced to acknowledge them when they ask you a question.

“what’re you drinking there?

not taking your lips from the glass, your eyes flicker to the person next to you. they don’t seem far in age from you, yet their eyes crinkle with the visage of old stories that suggest otherwise.

“apple cider vinegar.” you answer, putting the cup down on the counter with a polite smile. “i'm not a fan of alcohol, especially not after a long day."

the man nods, jutting out a lip slightly as if considering your views.

“sometimes you need a muddled head, but I appreciate the sentiment. mind if I copy your ways tonight? who knows, you might have just made a changed man."

chuckling, you shrug and tell him to do what he likes.

you’d meant that as a way to end the conversation, yet still, he pushes on further. “so, the only people I’ve heard of being against alcohol in this sense are travellers — am I anywhere close?"

when you nod, he hums, as if happy with himself for guessing something so trivial. “I wonder why that is, can you explain by any chance?"

a petal falls from the flower of patience in your chest, but you attempt to turn a blind eye to it.

meanwhile, diluc works without reason at the other end of the bar, wiping down glasses that had been dealt with mere minutes before. he reasons with himself internally; the glasses are dusty. they have to be, from sitting in the open. he tells himself there is nothing else for him to do, when in reality, he is too hesitant to do what he really needs.

he’s painfully aware of the man you talk to, a dashing regular with a hobby of chatting to anyone that will listen. friendly and open, diluc has witnessed many fall victim to his charm.

“ah, I guess that must be tiring.” the man nods after you explain your reasoning, but as he drones on, all you can focus on is diluc. his back is now turned to you as he wipes down the nozzles connected to the counter. something in you deflates.

“yes, it can be…” you reply, gaze turning down to the depths of your almost empty glass.

“so, what are you doing tonight?"

a wave of disgust runs through you at his obvious implication, and your flower of patience finally withers. you look up at him with furrowed brows and shake your head.

“i’m busy."

the man frowns, eyes playful. “really?"

startling both of you, a new cup full of apple cider vinegar is placed down with force between you. the tension in your shoulders instantly loosens as you meet diluc���s eye, grateful for his intervention.

diluc looks at the customer next to you and speaks without formality nor patience. “if you aren’t going to order, quit making my girlfriend uncomfortable."

the man sputters when his brain at last makes the connection, eyes darting between the two of you as a smile curls at your lips. diluc resolves to fight harder for that smile, for the person he had belonged to far before you had belonged to him.

kaeya:

+ blackout days by the phantogram

- like his brother, he’s likely a few wrong turns away from toppling over at any given moment, but hey, aren’t we all? though kaeya’s wayward attitude is far from a guise, there are just certain things that manipulate it in ways nothing else can.

- one of those things is you, whether you’re aware of it or not.

- you mean everything to him. you’re his lifeline in every sense, and he would do anything necessary to make you happy, even at the cost of himself. so, when he sees you being flirted with, his first instinct isn’t to take it as a joke — it’s to remind the person of just who you belong to.

“i can put this at a discount if you’re interested, only the best for my customers!"

you don’t spare the shopkeeper an extra glance as you rummage through the backpack slung over your shoulder, but kaeya watches you from the corner of his eye — his blissfully unaware girlfriend, blind to the flirtation within the conditions the keep has offered you.

“if it’s genuine, that sounds great.” you look up to smile at the woman who nods, finally taking the things you’d placed onto the counter and bagging them. “what’ll it be?"

a reflective smile appears on the woman’s painted lips, but before she can get a word out, kaeya dutifully interrupts. he places the few coins that had been resting in his pocket onto the counter, the clink it makes on the glass amongst the quiet gratifying. the original cost of the goods you’d decided to pick up is already cheap, as were most things you bought offhandedly during your travels.

the details of the situation curl unsatisfactorily under his skin

“it’s alright, dear,” he surmises, smiling at the slightly startled attendant. “I already have what we need, save your mora for the journey ahead."

you shrug, smiling at him as he places a wanton palm over your back.

“are you sure? it doesn’t hurt."

“let me spoil you a bit.” a finger traces light patterns on the small of your back, making you stiffen. “you deserve that and more."

he revels in the steady pink that floods your cheeks, and in the way the shopkeep can do nothing but stand and watch, perhaps wishing it were her in his place.

you mumble, turning your head into his body to hide your embarrassment. “you’d do it even if I said no."

he can’t find it within himself to hide his smirk as he takes the bag from the counter.

I would.

childe:

+ duvet by boa

- this is much more straightforward: childe is complicated character, but it when it comes to you, he’s sure of himself. he would drop anything if it meant being with you, or keeping you safe, or even just to make sure you feel a little more welcome each night.

- but when he’s jealous, it's not that his foundation is rocky, it’s not that he’s a few moments away from toppling, it’s that he feels insecure. it’s simply just in his nature to always assume the worst, no matter how much you may assure him otherwise. so, he just doesn’t take well to people flirting with you.

- thankfully, he’s used to his own emotional spirals, so he knows how to handle them accordingly — even if it may give you a heart attack in the process.

you wince as the cold wind bites at your cheek, and despite yourself, you find yourself wishing that childe had proposed a slightly warmer place to reunite. it probably wouldn’t have been out of the question to travel back to liyue, though you will admit, his giddiness when proposing this trip had been hard to turn a blind eye to.

apart from the temperatures, snezhnaya really is a beautiful country — lush with mountainous regions that shelter snowy alcoves, and flowers of all kinds that bloom towards the borders of warmer nations. it’s no secret as to why the destination appeals to the typical blind eye.

it’s the things that lie beneath the exterior that make people like you uneasy, but perhaps you’d still do well thinking that no harm would come to you while in the country, due mostly to the infamous harbinger that had called you there. the sword at your hip might help in being an extra deterrent, but luckily you hadn’t needed to prove the theory thus far.

snow crunches beneath your boots as you lean forward to take a peek at the menu board of a food stall, searching for something to warm your hands amongst the dense crowd. as you squint, an arm slings intimately across your shoulder — naturally, you assume it’s childe and find yourself smiling, yet are displeased to turn your head and see an unfamiliar face.

“what’s someone pretty like you doing out here all alone? it gets cold this time of year, you know."

you bite back a blithe response as your teeth chatter, trying to quickly separate yourself from the man with a small laugh.

“i’m waiting for someone, and will be plenty warm as long as i’m not interrupted again."

taking your words as a joke, the man laughs. he’s not much taller than you, yet is considerably older, his hairline fading into a gray to match the unsettling tone of his frozen skin.

he huffs, shaking his head. “well what’s taking them?"

another arm comes to wrap over you, hand resting comfortingly on your shoulder. for a moment, you steel, but the gradual body heat that sinks into yours soothes your nerves. finally, he’s found you.

“only the most important things could keep me from you, angel."

childe says this to you, and you shake your head, ignoring the sudden mix of surprise and fear that goes across the man’s face. childe may be someone of status in this country, but you share more of a personal connection — snezhnaya’s beloved harbinger is but putty in your warm hands, and there’s nothing that could delight you more.

yet, however many times you may reassure him of this fact, there is always room for doubt in his head. as a result, childe had gained a few particular habits, one of which is the practice of using a specific nickname — it is very like him to speak in code, but part of you is slightly surprised that he thinks to be jealous of a man that flirts so uncouthly.

“okay,” you purposefully drag out the word as you reach up to put a hand on childe’s, a silent explanation. you smile at the man who now looks as if he’s seen a ghost. “we’ll be going then,"

before any reaction, you drag childe away. you don’t look, but you’re sure he’s grinning like a fool.

albedo:

+ blue by troye sivan

- albedo has never personally understood the concept of jealously. it is something that he can only notice in others, and something that he can only recognise after consideration.

- because of this, it’s more common for albedo to say that rather than experiencing jealousy, he’s experienced something that has made him feel out of place. whether pinning it as a situation he misunderstood you or his own insecurity, it’s likely he’ll never be on the same level of emotional intelligence as a normal human may be.

- but, he has grown to recognise the emotion regardless, even if he may not be able to put a name to it. he still feels is as strongly as anyone would, and with that come his own ways of dealing with it.

“miss honourary knight!” an unfamiliar voice calls you out of your stupor, hands jolting on the bag you hold as you look up. a young adventurer approaches you with a gleeful smile on their face. a similar bag of supplies is slung over his shoulder, equipped with presumably everything necessary to brave the chilly climate of dragonspine.

attempting to brush off the surprise of being so suddenly called on, you smile back.

“hi! is there something i can do for you?"

a customary greeting, you think with an internal sigh, perhaps it’s now just reflexive to offer help.

however, the adventurer shakes his head. “no, no, nothing like that. i just had a question, that’s all!"

you nod, hoisting your own bag over your back. a small bit of warmth fades onto your cheeks upon seeing how amazed he is even at such a mundane action — the people of mondstadt must really regard you highly.

“anyways,” you cough as you approach, clearing your voice blatantly. “what’s your question? i can try my best to answer."

he nods, brown eyes determined.

“it’s my first time going to dragonspine, you see, so i just wanted to know, how do you stay warm up there? i was told to bring a lot of layers, but.."

the adventurer is silent for a moment, eyes going to your usual attire — surely not something suitable for the cold weather. you might normally agree with him if you weren’t amongst the mountain’s most frequent visitors.

“ah,” you let out a light laugh, shaking your hand. “don’t mind me. but, there are fires along the way, and also mechanisms that can be activated that give off heat every once in a while."

he seems fascinated by your words, nodding with a far off look in his eye. you can’t help a smile.

“pretty cool, huh? the fires were designated by the knights,” your hand gestures to farther down the path, up to where the entrance of the mountain sits. “but the mechanisms are the work of their chief alchemist. they’re made so that they never run out of heat to give, no matter how long you may choose to rest near one."

only albedo could think of such a thing.

he smiles, agreeing.

“though,” he pauses, “are they everywhere like the campfires are? or are they more sparse?"

you think for a moment. “i’d say they’re equal… though, it’s really something that’s more for you to judge for yourself."

the adventurer nods.

“do you want to go up together, then? i need to mark down their locations so i have them if i need them, and you seem like an expert.” he offers.

you shrug, eyes turning towards the mountain.

“sure, i was headed up anyways. company isn’t bad, especially with everything that lurks, you know?"

he suddenly seems reluctant, but you laugh, waving your hand. “but don’t worry, if we run into anything on the way, i’ll take care of it. just mark your fires."

the adventurer nods, standing resolutely. together, you begin to make your way up the mountain. his goal seems to be very time-consuming, and almost aimless given the locations of fires tend to have no pattern to them — your goal, however, had just been to visit the lab in the middle of the mountain and its alchemist, long overdue because of the duties you’d recently picked up in liyue.

so, whether intentionally or not, the direction you lead him in opens to the space you’d been hoping to go. the faint light of the laboratory against the cloudy sky is so pleasant that you notice the young adventurer mark it down as a point of warmth.

you feel at ease when you notice a blond head over the alchemy tools that litter the small alcove, still as the man observes the vermillion liquid that bubbles in the tubes. he seems too entranced to notice your presence.

however, you’re pulled away from making any observations of your own as a hand taps your shoulder. you look to see the confused adventurer next to you, no doubt questioning why you’d stopped so suddenly.

“i’m sorry, did you say something?"

he nods, gesturing to albedo. “i just asked if you knew the person in there."

you hum in understanding, but you can’t help the flushed tone that rises over your ears. you turn to him and try to talk from a point that still protects your pride.

“he’s the alchemist i mentioned before,” you explain. "it was actually him i was coming up the mountain to see."

an innocent glint comes in the adventurer’s eyes as he turns back to albedo. “that’s the guy who created those mechanisms?"

you nod proudly, slinging your bag over your shoulder so that you can dig through it. he watches you as you pull out a small vial, filled with the essence of a warming seelie much like those you’d seen on your trip here.

“this is a warming bottle, all you need to do it break it and it will create a small area of temporary warmth. it’s one of his creations, and i want you to have it.” you hold out the bottle to the excited adventurer who eagerly takes it, gingerly cradling it in his palms.

“can i only use it once, or-?"

“yes, but if you ask me , i would be happy to provide you with more.” you smile at his expression that doesn’t dull. “i make frequent trips here, so the alchemist has made me a fair share of them."

suddenly. as if speaking of the devil, the alchemist’s voice rings out, calling your name. you turn to meet albedo’s eyes as he walks towards you, a strikingly similar vial in his hands.

“albedo!” you smile, not noticing the look that passes over the adventurer’s face upon witnessing the situation.

albedo smiles leisurely as he approaches you, handing you another warming bottle. you almost laugh at the irony, but take it regardless.

“albedo, i was just talking to this adventurer about these. he’s mapping all of the fires up on the mountain for reference, so something like this should prove useful for him."

understanding the implications of your words, he nods, but can’t help but ask, “does that mean you’re short? i don’t want you left without one on your trips."

you shake your head, smiling. “no, no, that’s okay. i still have plenty in my stock for emergencies. but thank you."

“um, miss honourary knight…"

being called on suddenly again, your gaze turns back to the adventurer. he seems disappointed.

“if we can, i’d like to keep going—"

“i’m sorry,” albedo interjects by placing a hand on your hip, and you see a faint spark of annoyance in the adventurer’s eyes. “but now that she’s here, i’ll need her help conducting various experiments. that is what i called her for."

the adventurer may be too young to understand the real meaning behind these words, but you just shake your head and laugh silently. a reunion between lovers is surely nothing to interrupt.

[cambria-writes]

It is Sunday my dudes! Since I update AO3 on Sundays I figured I might do that here too. No idea if it’s been more or less than a week since last time but here you go. Thank you so much to everyone who left messages, replies and likes! And special thanks to @anothermunsonsimp​ for absolutely indulging and encouraging me, and to my BFF and BF for letting me talk their ears off for hours about fan theories and ADND 1st ed. pairing: eddie munsonx reader rating: PG13 for now, each chapter rated individually warnings: more guns, minor injuries, hella swearing, mention of (assumed) character death but only for like a second, Chrissy gets game-over’d sorry word count: 3,322

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𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕿𝖍𝖗𝖊𝖊: 𝔊𝔞𝔱𝔢

You gave your phone number to the lot of them; Dustin, Mike, Steve and Robin. In return, you got their phone numbers as well, save for Mike’s. Not exactly like calling him in Hawkins would do much good if he wasn’t going to be around. The kids left for their club after that, and made sure they knew to let Eddie know you’d be waiting for him back at his place. You appreciate that they didn’t ask any questions, despite the fact that they had about a thousand of them written all across their faces.

“Anything happens,” Steve had said, putting a hand on your shoulder. “You call to let either of us know.”

Gripping the steering wheel of your car, you let your head fall forward at a red light. There’s a part of you that’s thrilled, sure; this is the most excitement you’d probably ever get in your life, living in a small town like Hawkins. But the knowledge of exactly how bad everything has been is equally terrifying. You didn’t bother asking, but it’s obvious that the lot of them have had way too many near-death encounters.

And then there’s Chief Hopper.

You nearly jump out of your skin when a car honks behind you. You hadn’t noticed the light had turned green. You floor it, making your way to the edge of town, toward the quarry. You need space to think, and barring the fact that the Fake Will Byers Body was found there, it seems to be the safest place to go.

Once you’re parked, you pull the walkman from your back seat, shoulder your duffel bag and make your way to the edge of the cliff overlooking the water. As you walk, you speed through half the tape to make it to The Killing Moon. That feels like it suits your mood well enough.

When you sit down, letting your legs hang over the edge of the cliff, you pull the pistol from the back of your waistband and hold it in both your hands.

From what you gathered from the extremely confusing conversation with the others, it doesn’t seem like a tiny handgun like this is going to be terribly useful if you end up plane shifting again. You kind of wish you’d brought the shotgun with you, though you know it makes more sense to have left it under your bed. There would be a lot of questions you’d have a hell of a hard time answering if someone spotted a god damn Winchester on your back seat.

You lean back to lie down, letting the Beretta rest on your chest and wonder if maybe you should try and find a way to rig, like, a flamethrower?

“God that sounds stupid,” you mutter to yourself, raising your arm to cover your eyes against the fading daylight.

What can you do if you end up in the Upside Down again? The only kind of fire you consistently have on you is a lighter, and you’re pretty sure that won’t do you much good against monsters with crazy speed and faces that open up like fleshy venus fly traps.

You let your fingers run along the barrel of your gun and try to decide what to do. The only real thing you feel would be useful is target practice, but you’re also not sure you want to risk someone hearing gunfire nearby and calling the cops. That, also, would require a lot of explaining you’re not sure you can convincingly manage.

By the time Ocean Rain starts playing, you still have no idea what to do with yourself and it’s got you on edge. You have no idea if you’ll ever end up in the Upside Down again, when the next nightmare is going to be, and if you should be trying to do anything right now. Whatever’s happening can’t be that bad, right? No one’s dead. That’s what you hold onto, for now.

Even if you can still feel the ghost of the vine wrapped around your ankle, you tell yourself that you didn’t die. You barely even got hurt. You don’t even know if you would have gotten hurt if you’d let it... well, yeah, being dragged down the stairs probably would’ve.

When the song ends, you feel around for your walkman and rewind the tape back to the beginning of The Killing Moon. For now, you can probably afford to kill time and chance a nap, while the afternoon sun still gives you some semblance of peace of mind. Then you can swing by your place, grab the shotgun, stash it in the trunk, and make your way to Munson’s place.

With that ghost of a plan in mind, you close your eyes and try to catch up on some of the sleep you’ve been missing out on.

Something’s off when you pull into Forest Hills. The hairs at the back of your neck are standing straight, and you can’t shake the feeling like there’s a hand always an inch away, ready to grab you. The dark of night was never really as scary as it is tonight.

And then you hear the clock chiming again.

You’ve just stepped out of your car when you notice that the front porch light is flickering. A quick look confirms that the lights inside are going crazy, too. You can barely remember Steve mentioning something about Christmas lights and the nightmare with hands coming out of the wall at the Byers’ place when you hear Eddie shouting from inside.

“Shit, shit, shit.” You use the wobbly railing to pull yourself to the door and jump over the steps altogether and burst through the door. When you race in, you can still hear him shouting.

“Chrissy, wake up now! Chrissy!”

“Ed, what the fuck is going on?!” You ask, finding him shaking the cheerleader with the shoulders.

She’s completely checked out, eyes milky white.

“Oh fuck, oh no,” you whine, rushing over and shoving Munson aside and grabbing the girl by the shoulders yourself. “What happened?!”

“I don’t know!” He shouts back, trying to drown out the sound of the flickering light bulbs. “She wanted to make a deal and when I came back here she was–”

You both look at your hands rising on Chrissy’s shoulders, and then down at her levitating feet.

“What the fuck–”

“Get out,” you say, turning on Eddie. “Get out, get out!“ You shout, shoving at his shoulder and trying to get him to move.

“We can’t just leave her here!”

“The fuck we can’t!“

You’re blessedly halfway to the front door when you hear a loud thud. When Eddie screams, you turn around to see him knocked to the ground  and there she is: Chrissy Cunningham is somehow stuck to the ceiling, her face still impassive, eyes open wide and unblinking. You only manage to watch one of her arms snap before you put as much force as you can into dragging Munson out the damn door.

“Come on, we gotta get out of here!“ You shout, stumbling down the front steps. You don’t have enough time to right yourself before Eddie slips down and crashes into you. Yell at him to get in your car, and when you manage to stand, you pull the Beretta from your waist band.

“Why do you have a gun?!“

“Shut up and get in the fucking car, Munson!“

You don’t turn your back on the trailer and backstep to the driver’s side. You blindly reach for your keys and flick the safety off the gun with your other hand. Eddie shoves the car door open for you, and in a handful of seconds you twist the key in the ignition and peel out of the lot.

“What the fuck, what the fuck!“

Your hands are shaking and you’re clenching your teeth so hard your jaw aches. Henderson what fucking right, you fucking jinxed it, god damn it.

“What the fuck was that–”

“I don’t know, Eddie! Would you shut up for a second, I need to think!”

The only sound in the car is the engine and both of your heavy breathing. The first thing that comes to mind is to call Harrington, so you do your best to drive at a socially acceptable speed straight for your house. You’ll call him and go from there.

“We’re going to my place,” you announce, as evenly as you can manage. “I’ll call Harrington, he’ll–”

“Harrington? Steve Harrington? Have you lost your god damn mind?”

“Let me finish!“ You slam the steering wheel with your free hand, take a deep breath, and hand over the gun by the barrel. ”Turn the safety on. I’m gonna call Harrington, we’ll meet up with Robin and Henderson and we’ll figure shit out.“

“Henders-what the hell is going on? What the fuck do they have to do with this?” You spare Eddie a quick look; he’s left the gun in his lap and has both hands pulling at his hair with his head as close to his knees as he can manage.

“Honest to god you wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” you manage to say, through your teeth. With a hand on the wheel, you bounce your fist on your free leg. “I’m gonna have to ask you to just trust me on this.”

“I just saw a cheerleader fucking levitate and you’re asking me to trust you?“ He asks, with all the incredulity that, yeah, he’s entirely entitled to have, actually.

“Yeah, Munson,” you reply, taking a second to look at him head on. “I’m asking you to fucking trust me on this one.”

When you make it to your place, you don’t really park so much as you haphazardly get your car in the driveway. Tell Eddie, when you pop the trunk open, to grab the shotgun while you unlock the front door. Head straight for the phone and pull out the piece of paper with Harrington’s number and almost scream when you have to dial it a third time.

“Come on, asshole, pick up the phone,” you mutter, tapping your foot impatiently on the floor. It goes to voicemail after the eighth ring. “Fuck!” you shout, slam the phone back on its cradle and reach for another piece of paper in your pocket. Check the time on the clock real quick and decide that Henderson probably won’t mind you calling at this time.

“Hello? Hend–”

“Hi Mrs Henderson I’m really sorry to call this late but I really need to talktoyourson,” you rush out, resting your head against the wall while Dustin’s mother shakily agrees. You hear her call for him in the background.

“Hel–”

“You were right, I fucking jinxed it!“ You scream into the phone. You hear your front door shut and the tell-tale sound of the deadbolt locking.

“Woah, hey, back up there, what happened?”

You slap Eddie in the shoulder when he tries to talk to you and motion at him to sit down at the table a few feet away while you tell Henderson what happened. Somewhere along the way you start crying, but do your best to keep talking.

“Shit,” Dustin whispers, and you can hear him ask his mother to grab a bag for him. “You’re both at your place right now yeah?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, using your free hand to wipe at your face.

“Perfect, okay, great,” he says, distracted, and you hear several things being thrown around. “I’ll go get Steve and we’ll go to you okay? Is Eddie okay?”

You take a second to look over to Munson. His hands are clasped tightly in front of him, elbows on his knees and head hanging between his arms. The gun and shotgun both sit on the table in front of him.

“No,” you eventually say, turning back to the wall. “I don’t think either of us are anything adjacent to ‘okay’. Just be quick about it, man.”

You rattle off your address and promise to sit tight and agree to only open the door if you hear the agreed-upon knocking pattern. It feels a bit stupid and a bit too much, but you can’t deny the mild sense of comfort it brings you.

Eddie stands up and follows you into the kitchen, where you make yourself busy pulling two mugs out of the cupboard and grabbing the tin of coffee.

“Now are you going to tell me what the hell that was about?” he asks, throwing his hands in the air.

Pour water into the coffee maker. Fold a filter and pop it in. Try to steady your hands. Scoop grounds in.

“Hello?“

“Look,” you grind out, jabbing the power button on the stupid coffee maker and gripping the edge of the counter with white knuckles. “I don’t fucking know, okay? I just managed to talk about this shit with Harrington and the rest of your merry band of misfits this afternoon and they have no idea what’s going on either.”

“Again,” Eddie says, sounding progressively more exasperated. And entirely done with your shit. “What the hell does Steve Harrington have to do with any of this?!”

“Remember when the Byers kid went missing a few years ago?”

Eddie shuts up for a few seconds, and you don’t need to turn around to know that he’s looking at you like you just grew a second head.

“Wha–”

“He was taken to this–and you have to shut up and listen to me,” you caution, turning around and shoving a finger to his chest. “He was taken to this, like, parallel dimension by a demogorgon. And then they–no!” You slap at Eddie’s chest when he opens his mouth. “Shut up! Then they found this girl in the woods with fucking superpowers who could move shit with her mind and found out she opened this, this kind of gate or whatever to that parallel dimension.”

You take a second to breathe and run both hands down your face.

“Whatever happened to Chrissy has something to do with that. Harrington’s been there every time shit’s gone south. The Wheeler kids too, Henderson, the Sinclair kid. They’ve all fought this shit before.”

Eddie doesn’t speak again. Leans back against the sink and slides down to the floor. You don’t bother breaking the silence, just pour out the coffee when it’s done percolating and settle in next to him, holding a mug out. He doesn’t look at you but shakes his head.

“You’re gonna need the boost, man,” you say quietly, taking a sip from your mug. It scalds your tongue. Eddie eventually takes the mug and takes a sip, though he makes a face at the bitterness of it.

“You think she’s...” He starts asking, after a bit, but lets the question trail off. You have a hard time swallowing past the lump in your throat.

“Probably,” you croak, pulling your legs up to your chest and letting your mug rest on your knees. “They didn’t make it sound like this shit is prone to leaving any survivors.”

“Shit,“ Eddie whispers, and his voice is hoarse.

You close your eyes and keep sipping at your cup of coffee, trying to focus on the sound of the clock ticking to keep yourself moderately present. You chug the rest of it when you’re halfway done and stand to put your empty mug in the sink.

“Woah, woah wait where are you going?”

“I’m getting the other guns from the safe in the basement,” you say quietly, taking a deep breath and rolling your shoulders.

“You have more?”

You shrug him off because explaining is a pain in the ass right now and head for the basement door. The safe is still open, as you left it. You fit the Beretta in your waistband, grab the Winchester in one hand and as many boxes of bullets and shells as you can comfortably hold against your chest before making your way back upstairs.

You hear the patterned knock on the door just after kicking the basement door shut behind you. You can hear Henderson shouting from outside when he starts pounding on the door with his fist.

“Fucking relax, I’m coming, jesus!” You call, unlocking the deadbolt and pulling the chain out before opening the door. “Please tell me you have any kind of useful information.”

Henderson immediately makes his way to the dining room table, like he’s been here a thousand times before, and throws a heavy bag on the table. Harrington follows behind, looking all the world like he just got woken up, if his less-than-deliberately messy hair is anything to go by. You don’t pity him when you punch him in the shoulder.

“Hey, what the hell was that for?!”

“You told me to call you if anything happened and didn’t answer your damn phone, you asshole!”

“Yeah well I didn’t exactly expect for something to happen tonight!” He shouts back, rubbing at his arm and moving to sit down next to Henderson. You huff and slam the door shut, taking care to lock everything back up.

Dustin slams a handheld down on the table and effectively shuts everyone up. Looks at you and waves his hand at Eddie.

“How much does he know?”

“Just that you guys have done this before,” You start slowly, making your way back to the table. Motion to everyone to sit down, though Henderson stays standing. “Didn’t really have the time or patience to go through everything.”

“Steve, can you..?” Henderson asks, pulling the antenna on the handheld and wandering off. You can hear him checking if Mike’s still up.

“Is this the part when I find out why you’re not actually a massive douchebag?” Eddie asks, both hands on the table, fidgeting nervously with his rings.

Steve sighs, running a hand down his face and leaning back in the chair. But he launches into a shortened summary of what you were given earlier that day. Will’s disappearance, the Upside Down, the mind flayer, how Joyce Byers is in the know. Talks about Eleven and the other “psychic kids”, how she had and then lost her powers during the last fight at Starcourt.  

“It’s not like we were sure everything was done last time, but...” Steve trails off, looking down at the table. “Without Will here and Eleven without her powers, we didn’t exactly have a Bullshit Radar.”

“Wait,” Eddie says, looking at me for a second, before looking back at Steve. He’s been on the edge of his seat for the past few minutes. “Does that mean she’s one of the psychic kids?”

“Hello, I’m right here–”

“Probably not,” Steve answers anyways. “Hell if I know. You said you only started having weird stuff happen to you when El opened the first gate right?” You nod to confirm. “Right. I don’t know, maybe she’s got a weird connection to the Upside Down like Will does.”

“Yeah but,” I cut in, scooting closer to the table. “Will was actually stuck there for like, what? A week? And he got caught by that big shadow thing. I’ve only been there once–probably–for less than an hour.”

Steve throws his hands up and lets them fall back down on the table. “Dude, I don’t know. It’s not like we ever know anything until it tries to eat our face.”

“Mike’s on his way over,” Dustin announces, walking over to stand by Eddie, and places a hand on his shoulder. “Lucas is gonna go see if he can grab Max before coming over.”

Leaning your elbows on the table, you put your head in your hands. Sincerely starting to wonder why Harrington even told you to call him when anything happened if they were going to be flying into this nearly as blind as you. You’re about to ask something when Henderson speaks up again.

“Think your parents are gonna mind a long distance call on their phone bill?”

text divider by natasharomanovf

[qqueenofhades]

Fic prompts? How about Garcy + the AC died in the bunker while the two of them were left there alone + it's freaking hot and they have to deal with the heat until Denise gets back, and can figure out how to get a HVAC tech there to fix it? 😂🔥🥵

Hiding entirely off the grid in a super-remote government bunker, trying to stay alive long enough to defeat an evil secret society from destroying the world via time travel to an array of obscure historical events, has numerous and obvious disadvantages. The food, for one. The constant bathroom traffic jams, for another (Denise finally lost her patience and insisted on drawing up a color-coded schedule to sort the all-important question of who has the right to use the shower when, and the time block they are allocated to make sure they don't use all the hot water and negatively impact team morale). You can add to the list, Lucy thinks blackly, the fact that when the air conditioner suddenly goes kaput, you are stuck in a broiling underground tin can and you, the brains and not at all the brawn, have no idea how to fix it. The only other person here right now is Flynn, but Lucy feels awkward about interrupting him. Ever since the night she spent in his room, it has just felt different between them, and she is terrified of doing anything either to ruin it or, well. Not ruin it. That's what got her into so much trouble the last time. She isn't risking it again.

She paces back and forth across the thin industrial carpet in what passes for the living room, fanning herself and muttering imprecations under her breath. When Rufus, Wyatt, and Jiya get back from whatever century they are presently working in, maybe she'll ask Rufus, mechanical whiz extraordinaire, to get in there and see what's going on. Denise is absent on a clandestine supply run, and Mason has likewise excused himself on some errand he won't talk about. Lucy feels useless and irritated and hot and angry and generally left out; she's recovered from her wounds in Salem, she's fine, she doesn't need to be babied. Jessica Logan might also be around here somewhere, but Lucy isn't going to ask her.

At last, sweat rolling down her neck and sticking her camisole to her back in unpleasant damp patches, she gives up. She treks down the hallway and bangs on Flynn's door; it, like the rest of him, is imposingly large, and she almost loses her nerve. But she's been here before, after all. She is the only one with some kind of privilege to enter; the rest of the team is still too scared of him. Before she can entirely decide what she's going to say, the door cranks open and Flynn sticks his head out, with ruffled dark hair and a consummately bad-tempered expression. "What?" he barks, before seeing that it's her, and belatedly modifying his tone. "Oh. Lucy. Hello."

"Hello." Lucy clears her throat. "I'm sorry to bother you. It's just... the air conditioner... I don't know when Denise or the others will be back, and it's going to be hell to get anyone else out here to fix it..."

"What?" Flynn sounds deeply insulted. "You think we need to call some idiot teenage HVAC tech to come out to our classified military facility? Show me where the damn thing is. I can fix it."

Lucy blinks. "Are you -- ?"

Flynn arches an eyebrow at her, just daring her to question his competence one more time. "If I managed to steal a nuclear bomb and rig it up as a permanent power source for a stolen time machine," he points out, with a truly remarkable lack of contrition or regret of any kind, "I can fix a broken AC. Hold on."

With that, he disappears back into his room, there are several moments of rustling, banging, and muffled swearing, and he emerges with an improvised toolkit in hand. Lucy tries not to notice the heavy muscles of his arms and shoulders; he's only wearing a white undershirt and grimy cargo shorts, and the air of brutal, brusque, no-questions-asked masculine competence is, as ever, one of the most attractive things about Garcia Flynn, even despite his manifold personality and conversational deficiencies. He follows her directions to locate the broken unit, pulls out his tools, and starts to work. Lucy should go back and -- and review mission reports, or something -- but she finds herself oddly reluctant to leave, wanting to hold onto this, spend this quiet time together away from all the others. She perches on the arm of the old couch and watches him tinker, until at last he utters a sound of satisfaction, tightens a final bolt, and blessedly cool air begins flowing through the vents. "Huh?" he says, turning to her in clear expectation of her approval. "What did I say?"

"Very good job." Lucy laughs, despite herself, and automatically reaches out to offer him a hand down from the ladder. Flynn flicks a glance under his eyelashes at her as he accepts it, and all of a sudden, she is conscious of a heat that has nothing to do with the lingering effects of the broken AC. As soon as he's down, she quickly lets go, looks away, and coughs. "Thank you."

"Of course." Flynn's own voice is odd, restrained, and he isn't quite meeting her eyes. "Lucy."

(She doesn't -- she doesn't have feelings for him, does she? She's been determined that she doesn't, she won't, after the entire debacle with Wyatt and Jessica. She needs Flynn, they need Flynn, and Lucy Preston is never going to be so selfish as to mess it up.)

(So she doesn't. That has to be the final word. It has to be enough.)

(It has to.)

(It has to.)