#I will write a fic of this eventually

[dancingwiththefae]

Yennefer and Jaskier both feeling like outsiders at Kaer Morhen and growing close.

Jaskier trying to find his muse again and writing a song for Yennefer but he can’t play it without his lute.

Yennefer and Jaskier dancing together to the music in his head.

[zephyrchama]

Water Wrinkles

Seven demon brothers sat solemnly in a circle around you. You did your best to ignore them. It wasn't often that you got to spend time at the human world villa, and you were intent on soaking up as much sun as you could before returning to the Devildom.

You reclined your beach chair back, crossing your arms under your still-wet hair. It was a gorgeous day. Perfect for being at the pool.

Leviathan let out a muffled sob. As the demon with the highest affinity for water, he blamed himself.

"Let us take you to a hospital," Satan insisted for the tenth time.

"They're going to laugh us out of the ER," you nonchalantly repeated.

Satan lowered his eyes and muttered, "I couldn't find any traces of a curse in the water... So how...?"

Asmodeus had his head in his hands, unresponsive. Sometimes his fingers curled around the ends of his hair. You briefly glanced over to make sure he didn't pull his hair out - that would be grounds for a real emergency.

"I can't bear to watch. Lucifer, do somethin'," Mammon whined. He was fidgeting all over the place and winced whenever he looked at your feet.

The oldest glared at you. You knew it was out of concern, but his fears were unfounded. Even Lucifer refused to listen to reason when he thought you were in danger.

"Actually, yeah. Lucifer, can you pass me a towel?" you asked. It was embarrassing having seven shirtless demons intensely staring at you. If they wouldn't let you go back in the water, maybe covering up would make you feel less self-conscious.

Lucifer didn't move. It was Beelzebub who plucked a spare towel off his younger twin and handed it to you with a shaking arm. He looked like a wet puppy, having been the one who first discovered your "condition" and swept you out of the pool.

Belphegor hadn't gone in the water that day. He only hogged the plush towels because of how comfortable they were and, following Beelzebub's lead, dumped them all onto your chair. Now he sat, wide awake. He was anxiously squeezing a loose chunk of concrete but at some point, without realizing, it got crushed to powder in his hand.

You had more than enough towels now.

"In half an hour you're going to forget this all even happened," you said to reassure the worry warts.

"In half an hour, you might be gone!" Mammon snapped back.

"You're going to be a wrinkled mess of skin and bones," Asmodeus weeped quietly.

Leviathan pressed his hands over his ears. Though, with nothing to cover his eyes he was forced to look at your wrinkled hands again. Based on the noises he was making, you'd think someone was torturing him.

"As I've said!" you reiterated. "All humans get wrinkly in water. Look, now that I'm drying off it's going back to normal."

Beelzebub grabbed your ankle, raising it for the brothers to observe at eye level. "I don't see a difference."

You didn't expect the sudden manhandling and slunk several inches down the lounge chair while the demons stared at your foot. Kicking and twisting your leg was futile. You modestly crossed your free leg.

"I think it's getting worse," Satan said.

"We need to take action," Lucifer decided.

Asmodeus was actively quivering now. Belphegor and Leviathan had crept behind you and started picking at your wrinkly fingers. You tried to swat them away to no avail.

"Give me 25 minutes! Literally! Probably even less, this will go away on its own! I just need to dry off."

"We need a solution now," Mammon asserted. The cogs in his brain were turning. "We need fire."

You tried to sit up, to jump up and stop Mammon before he burned the whole villa down in an attempt to dry you off, but Beelzebub had not let go and you stumbled. You grazed your knee on the concrete and winced.

A second round of panic overcame the demon brothers. Beelzebub let go, Lucifer picked you up, and Belphegor wrapped your knee with every available towel he could lay his hands on. Asmodeus and Leviathan were crying on each other's shoulders. Mammon came running back, oblivious to the second disaster that just occurred, with a flaming stick in his hand that Satan tried to keep at bay. If you got burnt on top of everything else, they'd probably go insane and destroy the human world.

In the midst of the chaos you caught a glimpse of your hand. It was practically dry. You couldn't even see the wrinkles anymore. You angrily wiggled in Lucifer's grasp as various hands fussed over you.

"Stay!!" you shouted over the clamor.

The brothers went tumbling to the ground, save for Lucifer who fought to stay rooted in place. You could finally hear yourself think again. There was primarily one thought on your mind.

"I just want to go swimming."

[strawbuddy-luv]

Thinking about Tim accidently adopting Maps the same way Bruce adopted him-

Like Maps showing up to save Tim's ass, because he's losing in a fight (that he should definitely be winning but "fOr sOmE rEaSoN" isn't). Afterwards Tim's like "Kid you cannot be out here", but Maps ends up following him around, as he tries to escape via rooftops, and after like 30 minutes of convincing, Tim is (partially forced) to bring her back to his house(/Nest) because "She has no where to sleep :(". And then two seconds after she lays down to nap Tim calls Jason in a panic

When Jason shows up Tim just opens the door to reveal a child sleeping on his couch.

Jason: ...You really are a Bruce mini, you're stealing children now Timbit?

Tim, slightly hysterical: No, no no, its worse than that. She showed up in the middle of a fight, that I was totally winning, saved my ass, revealed she knows who I am, demanded she become my protégé, claimed I was "a danger to myself and others" and I "Needed someone to ground me like Robin grounds Batman", and then she gaslit me into bringing her back to my house.

Jason:

Jason: Oh my God she's just like you

Tim: SHES JUST LIKE ME!

[k1tty5]

another design for the au i’m working on (cough cough thinking about)

[deimostes]

boy why are you so hammer

(this boy's on my artfight!)

[nyoomerr]

(cw for omegaverse and Gender Stuff. sfw/mature at worst)

---

It’s been many, many years since Luo Binghe spent his rut outside of a nest. He may not have ever had a proper mate, but ever since his rise in power he’s had no shortage of rut partners, and the intensity of his ruts often throw his partners into heat. An omega facing discomfort will instinctively create a nest, and an omega in heat will not be too picky about who it is that comes inside that nest.

So: Luo Binghe is used to spending his ruts in an omega’s nest, even if the nest is different each time. 

He hadn’t realized how used to it he’d become until he was staring down the full force of his rut and realizing that no nest had been created for him; that no nest would be created for him.

Shen Yuan is not an omega, after all. 

Surely, though - surely he would be one, if he’d been born a part of Luo Binghe’s world rather than snatched out of that terrible scentless one? Luo Binghe has never been able to get it up for anyone not actively expelling an omega’s ‘come hither’ scent, but all Shen Yuan has to do is smile at him, or scold him, or pitch his voice up into that spoiled whining tone - 

Surely, Luo Binghe would not feel such fierce attraction to Shen Yuan if the man was meant to be a beta. If Shen Yuan had been born in Luo Binghe’s world, he’d no doubt have all the instincts of an omega, and so he’d surely have been pushed into pre-heat by Luo Binghe’s oncoming rut, and so he’d have built a nest.

Put like that, Luo Binghe has an obligation to help Shen Yuan out. Shen Yuan should be building a nest right now, but he doesn’t know that he should be, or even how to build one, and it’s Luo Binghe’s job as his mate to instruct him. Luo Binghe will show Shen Yuan how to do it just this once - he has watched many omegas build their nests over his lifetime, so he knows how it’s meant to be done - and then the next time Luo Binghe enters his rut cycle, Shen Yuan will know how to do it himself.

“Shen Yuan,” Luo Binghe calls, and then when Shen Yuan raises an expectant eyebrow, very quickly corrects himself: “Yuan-ge.”

“Is your rut in full swing, now?” Shen Yuan asks, and Luo Binghe swallows thickly as he catches the way Shen Yuan casts a nervous glance below Luo Binghe’s belt. 

Shen Yuan hasn’t been… hesitant, really, but he has been clearly nervous to spend Luo Binghe’s rut with him. Luo Binghe isn’t willing to look too closely at the feelings that inspires in him: both Shen Yuan’s nervousness, and the fact that Shen Yuan is still here in Luo Binghe’s rooms despite it.

“Not yet - I’ll still be fully conscious until tomorrow morning, most likely.” Luo Binghe answers, almost absentmindedly. He has to teach Shen Yuan how to build a nest, but now his mind is stuck here, on Shen Yuan’s nerves and how to soothe them. He has to soothe them, he has to make sure his mate is safe and happy, he has to remove the threat -

Luo Binghe forcefully shakes the thought away. His instincts have been prickling at him nonstop like this for the past several days; a side effect of knowing that his upcoming rut will be spent with a proper mate rather than a simple bed partner. 

Shen Yuan has already expressed his dissatisfaction about Luo Binghe’s foolish instinct-driven behaviors this morning when Luo Binghe had dragged him out of bed and into the kitchens so he could keep Shen Yuan in sight while still providing his mate with a good meal. If Luo Binghe’s instincts make him do something unnecessary that causes Shen Yuan to complain again, then Luo Binghe really won’t be able to take it. The panic that had flared through him at potentially offending Shen Yuan so close to a time when Luo Binghe needed him had been… distinctly unpleasant.

So: a nest. Shen Yuan’s nest, which will be built by Luo Binghe just this once, and which will both settle some of Luo Binghe’s uncertainty by giving him a point of familiarity and, hopefully, soothe some of Shen Yuan’s nerves. After all, even if Shen Yuan doesn’t possess omegan instincts, who isn’t soothed by a nice nest?

Luo Binghe clears his throat. “Before my rut begins, I wanted to show Yuan-ge how to build a nest.”

Shen Yuan raises his sleeves up to obscure half his expression, a habit he’d picked up after Luo Binghe had confiscated all the fans he’d been using to hide his face previously.

(Luo Binghe had not confiscated them because Shen Yuan had hidden behind them. Luo Binghe in fact finds Shen Yuan particularly easy to read when he’s trying to hide something, and especially cute when he thinks he’s getting away with it. 

Luo Binghe had taken all those dreadful fans away because Shen Yuan would not stop fanning himself with them, which - while indeed is the point of such an object - had been the cause of one of the bloodiest court sessions in the history of Luo Binghe’s reign, when Luo Binghe had caught the way some of his petitioners had been so clearly trying to get a whiff of the scent that Shen Yuan was blowing about with his fan.

It made no difference that Shen Yuan did not actually have a scent to blow around, outside of the smell of human sweat and the soft milky tones of the soaps Luo Binghe commissions for him. The insult of looking for Shen Yuan’s scent had been enough.

No more fans.)

“A nest as in… like, what an omega builds?” Shen Yuan asks cautiously. Luo Binghe nods, and Shen Yuan raises his sleeves higher. “And Binghe remembers that I’m not an omega, correct?”

Luo Binghe waves a hand dismissively. He does know this, even if he also believes that Shen Yuan should be an omega nonetheless.

“A nest helps to soothe nerves,” Luo Binghe says in place of his thoughts on what his attraction to Shen Yuan must surely indicate about Shen Yuan’s secondary gender. 

Shen Yuan watches him for a long moment, considering. “...Is Binghe nervous?” He eventually asks, and Luo Binghe is startled by the force of his defensiveness at being asked such a thing.

“No,” Luo Binghe says, voice carefully measured. He counts the spaces between his breaths - in for four, out for eight - and reminds himself that he isn’t nervous. He already knows Shen Yuan enjoys laying with him outside of ruts. Shen Yuan’s own nerves will be soothed by the nest, and then Shen Yuan will enjoy spending Luo Binghe’s rut with him, and Luo Binghe will be able to please his mate quite thoroughly.

“Hm,” Shen Yuan says. “Alright. What do you - er, what do I - need for a nest?”

Luo Binghe feels tension slip from his shoulders. Good, good; Shen Yuan will build a nest. 

“Yuan-ge should go grab his dirty robes, and one of mine if you want,” he instructs. “It will be most comforting if it’s mostly made up of your own scent, with only some of your mate’s, and it’s already going to have a lot of mine from the bed sheets themselves.”

It’s impossible to sleep on a bed without scenting it to some degree; the bed Luo Binghe shares with Shen Yuan will always smell more like Luo Binghe than anything else since Shen Yuan doesn’t have the scent glands to rub off on it to begin with.

“Alright,” Shen Yuan says, even though his nose wrinkles when Luo Binghe mentions the dirty laundry. “And while I do that, Binghe should start on the base of the nest, okay?”

Luo Binghe frowns. That doesn’t sound right. Shen Yuan is supposed to be the one learning how to make a nest, because it’s an omega thing to make a nest. If Shen Yuan isn’t present while Luo Binghe works on it, how can Shen Yuan learn?

Shen Yuan hums, reaching up to rest the palm of his hand on the nape of Luo Binghe’s neck. Instinctively, Luo Binghe shifts so that Shen Yuan’s wrist rests properly on the scent gland there; even without Shen Yuan having a proper scent of his own, it’s a pleasant sensation. 

“Good,” Shen Yuan praises him, voice soft. “Now I’ll go paw through our dirty laundry, and you’ll go work on the sheets.”

“Yes,” Luo Binghe agrees, and turns to go and do just that. 

Luo Binghe starting the nest by himself turns out to be a good thing, in the end - he’s never built one before, only ever watching his rut partners do it, so it takes some trial and error to figure out how to create the shapes he wants with the sheets. Shen Yuan wouldn’t learn anything watching Luo Binghe place and replace the sheets and pillows like this, struggling to figure out how to get things to lay just right. 

Luo Binghe has to teach Shen Yuan the right way to build a nest, after all. He knows that what makes for a good nest can be subjective to each omega, but Luo Binghe has always had his own opinions about the nests that his rut partners have made. Surely, as an alpha, the opinions that Luo Binghe has had are the result of finding an objective common denominator from all the various nests he’s slept in. And if Luo Binghe can recreate what feels good for an alpha, then that would give Shen Yuan a good base to customize the nest to his own liking without much trial and error of his own.

By the time Shen Yuan joins him at their bedside, Luo Binghe is quite pleased with himself. It isn’t a good nest yet - it needs their robes for that - but it’s -

“Very good, Binghe,” Shen Yuan praises. Luo Binghe all but preens; it’s a good nest, so it’s sure to ease Shen Yuan’s nerves once it’s done. “Now show me what you’re meant to do with the dirty robes, hm?”

Luo Binghe takes the robes from Shen Yuan - there’s more of Luo Binghe’s clothes than Shen Yuan’s, but Luo Binghe supposes that perhaps the scent distribution doesn’t matter too much for Shen Yuan’s beta nose - and begins working them into the nest.

“This is for - an air current,” Luo Binghe explains haltingly. He’s never had to put into words why certain things make a nest good, but he’s sure that he’s right about some things being an objective common denominator, and that means there’s an explanation for why. “We get air from the window on that side of the room, so the air needs to be directed through the nest like this.”

“To give us fresh air?”

“No,” Luo Binghe snarls, his claws tearing into the robe he’s holding as he goes tense. Then he realizes what he’s done and forces himself to drop the robe, counting his breaths again - in for four, out for eight, in for -

“Ah, Binghe… the rut is coming in sooner than you expected, isn’t it?” Shen Yuan murmurs, bending down to pick up the robe. Luo Binghe watches him warily; of course Shen Yuan can pick up the robe, because this is Shen Yuan’s nest.

He still feels relieved when Shen Yuan hands the robe back to him. He hasn’t finished teaching Shen Yuan how to make a nest yet, after all. 

“No fresh air,” Luo Binghe says, firmly but without the growl this time. 

He chooses to ignore Shen Yuan’s comment about the timing of his rut. It doesn’t actually feel like his rut is settling in upon him, but he feels so - untethered, and yet pulled taught at the same time - and he isn’t sure what else it would be. 

“Alright,” Shen Yuan agrees. “Air flow for what, then?”

“For -” Luo Binghe gestures with one hand jerkily, eyes firmly on where he’s still working the robe into their nest with the other. 

…Into Shen Yuan’s nest, he means.

“- for air flow in the opposite direction,” Luo Binghe eventually gets out. “The window will carry in foreign scents, no matter how tightly it’s closed. This is to keep that out.”

That much Luo Binghe does know for certain as an alpha; it isn’t uncommon for young alphas to start brawls with their neighbors just because their scent wafts in under a door frame. 

“Very smart,” Shen Yuan says, handing Luo Binghe another robe. 

Luo Binghe takes it, but the thought of adding it to the nest makes his teeth itch, and after a moment he hands it back. He doesn’t know if the nest is done, yet - he doesn't have the omega instincts to know - but he needs to come up with a reason to explain why and when the nest is done, because this is the nest that Shen Yuan is learning from.

Shen Yuan catches his arm, and Luo Binghe only barely doesn’t startle.

“Perhaps Binghe would know if his nest is done if he gets inside it?” Shen Yuan asks gently. 

Luo Binghe nods. Yes, yes - maybe his rut really is settling in early, if he can’t even think clearly enough to come up with the idea of getting inside the nest to check it on his own. 

He gets into the nest. He can’t - his memories of nests are usually when lying down, or when hovered over his rut partner, so he can’t compare this nest to the ones in his memories while sitting upright. 

He lays down. The nest is - 

“It’s done,” Luo Binghe says thickly. “It’s - I know Yuan-ge doesn’t like to hear about my past partners, but they’ve helped Yuan-ge today.”

The nest is better than any nest Luo Binghe has ever been in. He must have been right that observing so many omega’s nests would let Luo Binghe objectively build the best one, even as an alpha. 

“Can I come in?” Shen Yuan asks, peering down at Luo Binghe from the edge of the bed. He’s raised his hands to partially hide his face with his sleeves again, and for once Luo Binghe really has no idea what kind of face Shen Yuan is making. 

“Of course,” Luo Binghe says. “Didn’t this lord make the nest for you, so that you could learn how to for the future?”

“Mn,” Shen Yuan says, which is neither an agreement or a disagreement, but he does carefully join Luo Binghe in the nest. “Binghe was right; a nest does help with nerves, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” Luo Binghe says, feeling relieved. The prickling in the back of his mind - the instinctual urge to figure out how to help his mate feel better about joining Luo Binghe through his rut - fades. 

Shen Yuan shifts, turning to face Luo Binghe in the nest. He watches Luo Binghe for a long moment, and Luo Binghe watches him back, his heart beating rabbit fast in his chest. Is something wrong with the nest? It’s - it’s perfect, but Luo Binghe isn’t an omega, so maybe Shen Yuan noticed something that Luo Binghe didn’t, or -

Shen Yuan brings his hand up to rest on the nape of Luo Binghe’s neck, a mirror of the way he’d soothed Luo Binghe earlier. He still isn’t resting his wrist in quite the right spot, but Luo Binghe can’t bring himself to be upset about it. The fact that Shen Yuan tries, despite lacking all the instincts that Luo Binghe himself has, is enough to soothe Luo Binghe in place of any calming omega scent.

Still, Luo Binghe begins to move so that Shen Yuan’s wrist is resting in the right spot. Before he can, though, Shen Yuan - still watching Luo Binghe so very, very carefully - shifts his grip on Luo Binghe’s neck and squeezes.

Luo Binghe goes still. That isn’t - it isn’t the way an omega would scent an alpha. It isn’t quite anything, really, since Shen Yuan is a beta without the instincts to guide this type of action or the scent to back it up, but -

But it’s very, very close to the way an alpha might scruff an omega to calm them down. 

Luo Binghe’s breath hitches. His hands curl into tight fists around the front of Shen Yuan’s robes - robes that Luo Binghe had commissioned personally, because he’s an alpha, and because it’s an alpha’s job to provide for their mate in those sorts of ways. 

He gets an immense amount of satisfaction from doing so, too, just the same way he feels nearly gorged on pride and pleasure from caring for Shen Yuan in all sorts of other alpha ways. Feeding him, protecting him, showing off his martial skill - Luo Binghe loves being a good alpha for Shen Yuan. 

He finds himself nearly distraught at how much he loves being scruffed like an omega, too. 

“Ah, Binghe…” Shen Yuan tuts, even as he squeezes his hand tight on the nape of Luo Binghe’s neck, grounding him. “What are those wet eyes for? Did your Yuan-gege not already tell you? I’m not from this world, so what the hell do I know about any of this secondary gender stuff?”

Luo Binghe looks at Shen Yuan helplessly. He knows for a fact that Shen Yuan understands scruffing to be a thing done exclusively to omegas; Shen Yuan had asked about it after catching the way that Luo Binghe had been watching a couple showing off their fresh bonds at a tea house they’d visited. 

Luo Binghe had only watched because he’d wished it to be the sort of thing he could do to Shen Yuan. He - he’d only -

Shen Yuan squeezes again. Luo Binghe goes limp. There’s a tightness in his throat, similar to the feeling right before Luo Binghe growls but far more gentle. 

“I don’t know jack shit about this secondary gender stuff,” Shen Yuan says again, “so I’m just doing whatever I feel like, okay? As - uh, as in, I’m just doing stuff from my world.”

“...Mn,” Luo Binghe says weakly. 

“It doesn’t have anything to do with Binghe being an alpha or anything else,” Shen Yuan reiterates. “So Binghe doesn’t have to think about it in those terms.”

“...Mn,” Luo Binghe says again, even more quietly. 

“...But if you want to think about it that way,” Shen Yuan says cautiously, “then because I’m not from this world, I wouldn’t know any better.”

Luo Binghe takes a deep, shuddering breath. He knew, distantly, that his rut was going to be… difficult, this time around. He knew that his instincts would be working overtime at the thought of having a real mate, and he knew it would be hard to reconcile his own intensity with the fact that Shen Yuan is barely even a beta by this world’s standards. 

He also knew that the shape of his relationship with Shen Yuan would make this rut especially difficult, not just the existence of it. Shen Yuan, his Yuan-ge, his would-have-been-Shizun in another lifetime…

No, even without the titles, Shen Yuan has power over Luo Binghe in a way that no one else ever has. It had been a difficult thing to come to terms with to begin with - and Luo Binghe still feels shame at the way he’d bitten and snapped at Shen Yuan in a panicked attempt to feel like he was still in charge of the relationship after realizing that Shen Yuan had managed to leash him so thoroughly - and that had been when Luo Binghe was in a normal state of mind. Of course that internal struggle would rear its ugly head again when Luo Binghe entered his rut, when his alpha instincts became so much more intense.

He hadn’t expected it to take this exact shape, though. He hadn’t expected to be the one to start it, by building a nest that neither he nor Shen Yuan should ever need. 

Shen Yuan is still watching him, he knows. The grip on the back of Luo Binghe’s neck has loosened, giving Luo Binghe room to think. 

He wants very much for the pressure to return and make it so he doesn’t have to think about anything anymore.

“Since Yuan-ge isn’t from this world,” Luo Binghe says slowly, “I should… inform you about what is expected from my rut.”

“You should,” Shen Yuan agrees with no small amount of grace, considering that he’d already spent the last two weeks anxiously pestering Luo Binghe to get all sorts of details about how alphas behave during rut. 

“During my rut, I won’t be in a clear state of mind,” Luo Binghe continues. “It’s important that an alpha not hurt their mate even in that state, so -”

Luo Binghe breaks off. His jaw clicks as he figures out how to say the next part; if he can say the next part. He is an alpha, even if the dynamics of his relationship with Shen Yuan don’t match those of any other relationship he’s held. 

Shen Yuan moves his thumb to gently slide up and down the column of Luo Binghe’s neck, drawing Luo Binghe’s attention back to the way Shen Yuan is still lightly scruffing him. Luo Binghe breathes out carefully through his nose.

“To not hurt their mate, an alpha might be better off on the receiving end,” Luo Binghe manages to get out. “Even if - even if I cry about wanting to knot you, Yuan-ge can just squeeze with his hands.”

It’s a lie. Shen Yuan knows it’s a lie. No alpha ever would allow their partner to be the one on top during their rut. 

“Good boy, Binghe,” Shen Yuan croons, squeezing Luo Binghe’s neck again. “You’re a very good alpha, thinking about how to keep me safe.”

Luo Binghe’s throat feels tight again. He realizes, so distantly it might have been the thought of another person, that he is trying to purr like an omega despite not physically being able to do so. 

“Is there anything else you should tell your Yuan-ge about your rut?” Shen Yuan asks, and Luo Binghe shakes his head wordlessly.

There’s more that he wants to say, but he doesn’t have the words for it. He might never have the words for it. Already, this feels like too much. 

“Alright,” Shen Yuan says. “That’s okay. You can tell me more next time, okay?”

Luo Binghe nods weakly, clutching tightly to the front of Shen Yuan’s robes. Next time, next time - 

Yes, Shen Yuan is Luo Binghe’s mate, no matter the world he came from or the way it prevents Shen Yuan from actually bearing a proper mating bite. There will be more ruts they spend together in the future. 

“Next time,” Luo Binghe agrees, and leans into Shen Yuan’s touch.

[lonelychicago]

r/relationship_advice

u/hot_pilot84 • 2d ago

MY (40M) BOYFRIEND? (33M) IS IN LOVE WITH HIS BEST FRIEND (36M) AND IM THE THIRD WHEEL

I'm new to this reddit stuff, but a coworker suggested it, and I thought I'd give it a try. I probably should start saying he's not really my boyfriend??? We just started dating a few weeks ago, and it's been... interesting. But I really like him and he is a nice, sweet guy.

He recently came out, so I've been trying to be patient and understanding. But recently it's been hard to spend any time alone because his best friend is always there.

Now, I also like the guy, so I don't really mind, and to be honest, I kinda suspected from the first moment they were in love with each other. They both talk about each other all the time, and when we hang out together, I can't help but feel like intruding on an intimate moment I shouldn't be part of.

Like, our second date was at his sister's wedding and the best friend spent most of the time glued to our side. He has a son who my date adores, so they danced together for most of the party as well. It was cute, but again: it felt like intruding on a private moment.

Then we had a relaxing night at his place, eating take out on his couch and watching a movie.... when the best friend just, came in. No notice, no knocking. He has a key to the place and he just walked in. It was awkward at first but we insisted it wasn't a big deal so he stayed for tge rest of the night.

By the time I was leaving, my date was telling him to just get comfortable on the couch.

Another thing is. My date? Situationship? I don't know how to call it anymore. Well, I recently found out that he is the legal guardian of his best friend 's kid? In case anything happens? I wouldn’t find this weird at all if it wasn't for the fact this man has parents and sisters and other close family members that also have a less chance of dying along with him on the job. (They work together.)

Also. Recently, the best friend broke up with his girlfiend and called this guy in the middle of our date. So, he crashed again.

All of this to say, I'm not really hurt? This was new and sure, I like the guy. But to be honest my expectations were low. This is fairly recent, so it's not like my heart is broken and I just lost the love of my life. No, that's not the problem.

I just don't think these two know they're in love with each other, and it’s starting to get really uncomfortable for me. Should I say something? Should I talk with my date about it or just break things off and keep it vague, but that we should still be friends? Should I talk with both of them at the same time and confront the situation?

This is a situation I don't even know how to begin to get a handle on. Does anyone know where I should start?

rctherpcliarredditor • commented 1d ago

to be honest, i don't really have any advice for you. i just find this gay drama really hilarious. thoughts and prayers for you, my man 🙏🏼🙏🏼

twohottakes • commented 6hrs ago

definitely have a conversation alone with your date. point all of this out to him and tell him you don't wanna get in the middle if there's deeper feelings involved for someone else. all the luck to you, man!

storyreddit23 • commented 2hrs ago

talk to ur date!! and pls, post an update if u do. i wanna know how this ends.

[steviesummer]

inspired by and as a direct follow up to this post by @strangersteddierthings:

Eddie is horrified. He remembers the day Steve is referring to, though clearly not as well as Steve does. He calls out as Steve raced up the stairs and hears his door slam.

“Fuck.” He stares blankly at the wall in front of him. He can’t believe things went so bad so quickly. He’s been trying to get to know Steve better, get closer and damn if he didn’t just blow the hole thing. He’d shown up early, told Steve he needed to prepare as an excuse to spend some time with him. Despite everything that happened over spring break, Steve had remained guarded, standoffish no matter what Eddie tried. At least now he knew why. He’d fucked things up before he’d known there was something to fuck up.

He feels even worse about calling him a bully. Sure, Steve had looked the other way and even laughed at some of the mean jokes others had made, but he was far from the worst. That dubious award went to Billy Hargrove, but even without him, there was plenty of people who did far worse than Steve did. Especially because Steve is right. He did hit first, metaphorically at least. He can justify it all he wants as trying to protect himself, but that doesn’t make it right. Steve all but admitted that as he said the same thing. He feels nauseous at the realization that maybe he was just as bad as those he decried. That for all his talk about accepting outcasts and defying convention, he was just as prejudiced. Swallowing hard, he heads back to the dining room and looks at the clock. There is no way he is going to be able to run the campaign today. He’s not going to be able to focus or even play without thinking about how things might have been if he hadn’t driven Steve off all those years ago. He grabs the phone and dials Gareth’s number. “Emerson house, Sheryl speaking.” “Hi Mrs. Emerson, it’s Eddie.” Eddie is proud that he manages to keep his voice even. “Is Gareth there?” “Oh, yes! Let me go get him for you.” “Thanks Mrs. Emerson.” Eddie focuses on breathing while he waits. “Eddie? Hey man, what’s up?” Eddie breathes out. “Hey Gareth. Look, I know its last minute, but we’re gonna have to postpone Hellfire. Something came up.” He could hear Gareth’s frown through the phone. “Postpone? What happened, did Harrington do something?” As if he couldn’t feel worse. “Nah. I’ll explain later, but can you call Jeff and Frank, let them know? I gotta call the freshman, too.” “Alright, but I’m going to hold you to that.” “Fair enough. Talk to you tomorrow.” Eddie promises before hanging up. He weighs his options for how to tell the Party. Eventually, he decides on calling Mike, know that the younger teen won’t push too much. He’s dialing the Wheeler home before he can second guess his decision. “This is Mike.” Eddie feels a rush of gratitude that Mike is the one who answered, rather than Nancy or one of their parents. “Hey Mike, it’s Eddie. Listen, Steve’s not feeling great and having Hellfire here isn’t going to help. Can you call the rest of the Party, let them know we’re gonna move it to another day? I’ll keep an eye on Steve.” Eddie knows Mike is a confused, given how adamant he’s been in the past about not canceling or moving Hellfire, but as he expected, Mike accepts what he says at face value. “Sure. Need us to bring anything?” “Nah, I’ve got it. Pretty sure he just needs some peace and quiet so he can rest. But thanks.” They say their goodbyes and Eddie puts the phone back on the hook.  With that done, he checks that the door is locked and faces the stairs. Now for the hard part. He’s not sure what he’s going to say, if there is anything he can say that will fix this, but he has to try. Even if doesn’t change things between him and Steve, Steve deserves at least that much. Every step feels like it takes effort, chest heavy with guilt, but it only takes him a few moments to get to Steve’s door. It’s closed, which doesn’t surprise him. He takes a moment to gather his thoughts before knocking. Nothing. “Steve?” If it wasn’t for the quiet sound of Steve’s breathing he could hear through the door, Eddie would think he had left. He glad that he at least didn’t drive Steve out of his own home. He rests his forehead on the door. “I’m sorry.” Eddie hopes Steve can hear how much he means it. “You’re right, I fucked up. I made an assumption and took out my anger at other people on you. And that wasn’t fair and it’s not okay. But I want you to know that I’m sorry. Even if it wasn’t you, I shouldn’t have done that.” He lets out a hysterical laugh as he realizes - “And despite that, you still humor the kids when they talk about D&D and agreed to let us play here and didn’t punch me in the face, which makes you a better man than I.” He falls silent, listens as Steve’s breathing slows. He isn’t sure how long he stands there. He wonders how many other people he hurt this way, without even realizing. Knows he wants to do better, be better. He sighs, feeling his shoulders slump. “Anyway, I canceled Hellfire for today. I told everyone something came up, don’t worry about that. I’ll make up some story, make sure they know its not your fault. And uh,  let me know if you want to hang out again or something. I know I’ve been around a lot; didn’t realize that I was making you so uncomfortable, which is probably another thing I should apologize for. Anyway. Yeah. I’ll see you around, okay?” He waits a moment for an answer, but when none comes, he backs away from the door and walks downstairs to gather his stuff. It hurts, but he knows Steve deserves space and to be the one to initiate contact. He has some thinking to do, anyway.

[batty-pham]

Danny working in retail.

Dead end job.

He always ends up at the nightshift.

Everyone thinks the bags under his eyes are because he can't sleep.

He gets told all the time that he "looks like death" and he always just replies "thanks"

He just sorta stands in the dark corner and customers don't notice him, but they sorta inherently know he's there and avoid him, but he moves and they about shit their pants.

[steddiehyperfixation]

don't you forget about me (steddie fic)

saw this post and was inspired to write something angsty <3

The first thing Eddie is aware of when he wakes up, before he even opens his eyes, is the dull, aching pain throbbing through pretty much his entire body. The second thing he’s aware of is that someone is holding his hand. 

“Eddie?” The hand in his tightens its grip as Eddie begins to stir; the voice it presumably belongs to sounds immeasurably relieved, yet only vaguely familiar. 

Eddie groans. His eyelids flutter, blinking awake, and he groggily rolls his head to the side to get a look at whoever had spoken. 

The voice sighs again, “Oh thank god-” 

“Harrington?” Eddie’s eyes fly open wide now as they land on the mystery man sitting beside him on the edge of the bed - a man he most definitely is not close enough with to be holding his hand, and a bed that is most definitely not his own. He snatches his hand away. “What the hell are you doing? Where am I?”

“Ed-” Another man’s voice, this one just as relieved and infinitely more familiar. It fills Eddie with relief too as he looks to his other side to find his uncle Wayne rising from a nearby chair to come up next to him. 

“Wayne, what-?” His surroundings are becoming more clear. “What happened? Why am I in a hospital? And why the fuck is King Steve at my bedside?” Eddie tries to sit up only to gasp and wince in pain as the dull ache in his sides sharpens to near agony at the movement. 

“Take it easy, son.” Wayne’s hand lands on his shoulder, gently but firmly pushing him back down onto the pillows. “You were hurt real bad.” 

“Yeah, I got that,” Eddie grumbles out. He sucks in a deep, intentional breath and exhales slowly, the pain beginning to dull again now that he’s settled. His questions are still largely unanswered, though. Blank mind reaching desperately for any logical piece to this bizarre puzzle, he turns an accusing glare to Harrington. “Did you land me in here? Is that why you’re here, some sort of weird guilt thing?” 

Harrington’s looking at him like a kicked puppy. “What? No, I-” he falters, takes a shaky breath and swallows painfully like he’s trying not to cry. “You don’t remember?” 

“I don’t remember what? Will someone just tell me what happened?” Eddie’s confusion is rising more and more into agitation with every second he remains without an explanation. 

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Harrington asks quietly.

“I was driving home from school, just found out I wasn’t gonna graduate again.” Eddie frowns as he thinks back, still trying to put pieces together. “Did I crash my car? Is that it? I was emotional and not paying attention and got into an accident?” 

Yet again, he receives no answers. 

“Eddie, what month is it?” Wayne asks instead, his tone dangerously measured and serious. “What year?” 

“May…” Eddie says warily, “1985.”

His words hold a weight he doesn’t understand, landing heavy on the others in the room and thickening the air. It sends a chill of dread down his spine, the way his answer etches concern deep into the lines of Wayne’s face, the way Steve Harrington seems to take it like a blow to the chest. 

Harrington exhales sharply as if he’s been punched, standing abruptly and taking a few stumbling steps back. Wayne says, “It’s April of ‘86, Ed.”

Eddie’s blood runs cold. “No. No, it can’t be.” 

“I’m gonna go tell the nurse you’re awake,” Harrington mumbles, his voice strained and his eyes glassy with barely held-back tears. 

“I’ll go,” Wayne offers, pushing himself away from Eddie’s bed. He gives Harrington a meaningful look, though what that meaning is, Eddie can’t decipher. 

Harrington turns his devastated gaze to the older man. “But, Wayne, he doesn’t-” 

“I know, kid.” Wayne gives a sad smile and places a sympathetic hand on Harrington’s shoulder as he passes by. “Just talk to him.” 

Eddie is thrown off by this familiarity between them. Since when were those two close? He feels like he’s entered some sort of parallel universe where everything is just ever so slightly wrong. It leaves an itch beneath his skin, uncomfortable and out of place, like he no longer quite fits in his own body, in his own life. He’s lost 11 months, apparently, and this world is no longer his; he doesn’t know where he fits into it anymore. 

Wayne leaves the room, and Eddie wants to protest: Don’t leave me here with this guy I don’t know in this time I don’t know, please, you’re the only thing that feels safe and familiar! Anxiety is crawling through him like a thousand tiny bugs in his veins. He wants to scream, he wants to cry, he wants to run. Anything to shake this feeling loose. But he’s confined to this bed, trapped both by his pain and by all these machines he’s hooked up to, and he sure as shit isn’t going to have a breakdown in front of Steve goddamn Harrington. 

Instead, Eddie resigns himself to this situation and casts a sideways glance at Harrington who very much looks like he’s also trying not to have a breakdown. “I’m freaking out, man,” Eddie says finally, hating how shaky and pathetic his voice sounds. “I swear to god, Harrington, if you don’t tell me what the hell is going on…” 

Harrington worries his lip between his teeth as he hesitates. “It’s a lot to explain.” 

“Yeah, I bet,” Eddie scoffs out a humorless laugh. “I’m missing nearly an entire year, of course it’s a lot to fill in. Unless I’ve been here this whole time?” 

“No.” Harrington shakes his head. “No, you’ve only been here about a week. I- I don’t know why you’re missing so much time, the whole Vecna thing only started like a week before that-” 

“Vecna?” Eddie interrupts to question. “What does any of this have to do with the D&D campaign I was planning? And, also, how the fuck do you know about that?” 

Harrington closes his eyes for a second and takes a breath, like having this conversation is the most painful thing he’s ever had to do. “I’m not talking about D&D, Ed. Vecna was a real-life monster from a real-life alternate dimension we called the Upside-Down. The kids only called him Vecna because we didn’t know who he was at the time and he, like, cursed people before he killed them, but he was actually Henry Creel, which is a whole other fucked up story.”

“Okay…” Eddie doesn’t know who ‘the kids’ are and he’s skeptical of the way Harrington talks so factually about monsters and dimensions and curses existing in the real world, but he does remember his uncle telling him stories about the demonic tragedy of the Creel family, which is the only thing that makes any of this even halfway believable. It still doesn’t explain how Eddie wound up in the hospital with his entire body feeling like it’d been run through a blender, though, or why the former king of Hawkin’s High was hovering over his sickbed. He gestures for Harrington to continue. 

“I never wanted you to get involved in all this Upside-Down shit,” Harrington’s voice breaks. He steps closer to Eddie’s bed again, and he looks so so sad as he stares down at him that it makes Eddie’s own heart ache, just a little bit. Harrington’s hand twitches at his side as if he means to reach out for Eddie but then thinks better of it, running the hand through his hair instead as he continues, “I tried to keep you from it for so long, I really did, but then Vecna killed Chrissy in your trailer and the whole town blamed you and you were just a part of things then, there was no getting around it. You helped us fight him - Vecna. You kept his army of bats off our ass while we weakened his body and El weakened his mind. If it weren’t for you we never would’ve defeated him and we certainly wouldn’t have all made it out alive.” Harrington’s gaze softens, as does his voice, his next words almost a whisper, “You were a hero, Eddie.” 

“That doesn’t sound like me,” Eddie says, like that’s the least plausible part of Harrington’s story. And, really, it is. He can wrap his mind around a lot of things: a murder in his trailer - sure, Forest Hills always was a shady place; the whole town accusing him of being a killer - yeah, of course, that tracks; even an evil wizard from another dimension with an army of bats - fine, okay, why the hell not. But Eddie Munson is no hero, and he’s definitely not any sort of fighter either.

“No, you never did think so, did you?” Harrington mutters with a sad sort of fondness and the barest trace of a wistful smile. “But it’s true. Dustin was in danger and you didn’t even think twice. You ran right into the fray without a second thought, sacrificed yourself so that the rest of us might survive. Those bats nearly killed you, b-” he breaks, choking on whatever word he was going to say. His eyes swim with yet more unshed tears. “I almost thought they had killed you, you know. I thought you were dead when I carried you out of the Upside-Down,” he admits shakily, choked up and barely managed, “and even when I brought you here and you were stable, I was still so scared you wouldn’t wake up…” 

Eddie doesn’t know how to react to any of that information or to such a display of emotion. His own hands twitch now with the urge to reach out and comfort him, but he too denies that instinct. He tries for humor instead, something lighter, cracking a grin and teasing, “Aw, Stevie, I didn’t know you cared.” 

Harrington makes a sound halfway between a sob and a laugh. “Oh, Ed, you have no idea.” 

“We were friends then, weren’t we?” Eddie guesses now, carefully. It’s rapidly becoming the only possible explanation for the guy’s behavior around him. “Before all the Vecna stuff?”

“Yeah,” Harrington manages, forcing a small, sad smile as his eyes finally overflow and streak his cheeks with tears. “Yeah, we were good friends.” 

~

Wayne reenters the room then with a nurse in tow, and Steve quickly turns away and rubs his hands over his face. He needs to pull himself together; he can’t break down right now, not yet, not here. 

He listens, distantly, as the nurse asks Eddie a bunch of questions and then tells the rest of them that she needs to take him in for some tests to determine the cause and prognosis of Eddie’s amnesia. He watches, numbly, as she wheels Eddie’s entire bed out of the room. 

Steve can barely hear, barely see, his emotion clouding his eyes and roaring in his ears. He stares blankly through the open doorway and struggles to swallow down the ever-rising lump in his throat. 

Wayne’s voice rumbles from somewhere beside him, but he can’t quite make out the words. “What?” 

“I’ll take that as a no, then,” Wayne says, the sound reaching Steve’s ears a little clearer now. “I asked if you were alright.” 

Steve shakes his head. His voice comes out coarse and raw, “‘Course I’m not alright.” 

“Right, ‘course you’re not,” Wayne echoes. He follows Steve’s mournful gaze to the door Eddie had disappeared through. “What did you tell him?” 

“Told him he was a hero,” Steve croaks, “...and that we were good friends.”

“Ah…” Steve’s vision is so blurred behind a thick layer of tears he can’t see the sympathetic frown on the old man’s face, but he knows it’s there. “At least he’s alive, kid,” Wayne tries to be comforting. “You can always start over.” 

“Yeah, I know, but I don’t- I don’t want to start over, I just want-” Steve chokes back a sob. He just wants Eddie.

It’s a horrible thought, but Steve almost thinks that this just might be worse than if Eddie really had died… Because how is Steve supposed to handle the fact that his boyfriend of 9 months no longer knows him? How is he supposed to cope now that the love of his life looks right at him and no longer sees him?

He closes his eyes, presses the heels of his palms into his eyelids, inhaling a shaky breath and exhaling an even shakier sigh. Steve whispers, “It feels like I’m losing him all over again.” 

(part two is here!)

(also on ao3)

[teastainedprose]

Too Sweet - Ch. 1 (Cooper Howard x Reader)

A settler selling wares in Filly catches The Ghoul's eye. Inspired by a Tumblr post asking for an angst fic to Hozier's Too Sweet. 1,753 words | [AO3] No warnings yet, only innocent flirting. Banner from @eupheme

The first time he spots you, Cooper thinks nothing of it. Sure, you look a little less worn down compared to the usual rabble roaming Filly. Certainly scrubbed a little cleaner than most but so were the rest of your companions. The lot of you are a curiosity for sure, but he's seen plenty of attractive women over the ages and known a handful carnally. He's not the sort of man to let a pretty face distract him. No, you don't get a second glance from the ghoul as he goes about his business. 

It's not until your laughter catches Cooper by the ear that he starts paying attention. Jerks his head right round at the sunny sound, attention diverting from the bounty board as he watches you engage with a customer. You laugh again, a merry delight that lights your face right up while the elderly woman you're chatting with laughs along. She's made brighter for being so close to you while you've suddenly become the sun in Cooper's eyes. A brightness he has to squint at when he looks over again to drink you in. His long-dead heart decides that it's about time to do a little flip.

That's a sensation he's not keen on feeling. Cooper hums under his breath, frown settling on his worn lips. He tugs the brim of his hat lower, turning away as he tries to focus on the task at hand. No good can come of fancying any sort of infatuation on a smoothie like you. You're not the sort of creature deserving of the trouble he could bring.

Yet Cooper finds he can't quite help himself. Wasteland life is full of little pleasures and looking at you sure counts as a bit of pleasure. Why not indulge?

The rest of the day as he sits waiting for a client to show, his eyes flicker over you. Wherever you're from, it's certainly kinder to you than what most folks in the Wasteland see. You almost look as soft as some fresh-faced Vaultie, but he can see that your hands are well-worn as you exchange produce for caps. A farmer of sorts. Homesteader.

He listens with a keener ear to the gossip swirling about you and those in your group. A little settler band situated out east, closer to the mountains and closer to what manages to grow green. He picks up that your lot wanders in every few weeks with produce to sell, or trade to stock up the settlement the collective group runs. 

Idly, he wonders what horseshit sort of ideology your commune might be sunk into, but if you're looking to spread a new sort of gospel none of your ilk seem keen on sharing it here. You're a welcome addition to the economy of Filly and it's clear that many enjoy the taste of hope this band of settlers bring in with their harvest. Cooper figures that's indoctrination enough from the harsh reality the Wasteland offers up.

Cooper finds himself wandering over to Ma June's place under the pretense of stocking up on supplies. There's suspicion in her eyes as he drops his intended purchases onto the counter but that's not out of the ordinary. There's always suspicion in the looks Ma June gives him, but she'll take his caps all the same.

"Say, now what's with that group of lil' farmers hauling in their produce like that? Can't imagine those soft-lookin' sorts making their way all the way here unmolested," he drawls out. His smile is crooked as Cooper counts through his caps to pay.

"Settlers, but the well-armed sort. No point in trifling with them. Too well-liked here for their fresh food supply they haul in," Ma June pulls the caps towards her, gaze fixed on the ghoul as she mutters. "They'll trade with ya, but keep out of their business. Ya hear?"

A hum escapes Cooper as he considers this, leaning onto the counter while glancing out the dusty window towards where you stand at the stall. He casually stashes his purchases into his saddlebag while going on conversationally.  "Well- Is that so? They a regular sort of fixture here in Filly now?"

"Have been setting up that stall going on half a year now. Surprised you've yet to come across 'em. Best cherry tomatoes you'll find in the Wasteland." Ma June eases back, arms crossing over her chest as a sour look settles in place on her worn face.

Another speculative hum escapes Cooper as he digests this information before he tips his hat to Ma June and goes on his way. Which happens to lead him straight to your stall.

Once there, Cooper casually plucks up potatoes, a handful of cherry tomatoes, and okra. All of it looks as vegetables should, the sort he would have found at the grocery store before everything went to shit. 

"How much for this lot?" He sets the small bounty atop the open space on the stall. Cooper gives you his Hollywood smile that would charm the pants off of any woman in bygone days, except now his face is a leathery wreck and his teeth are yellowed with age. Most people instantly flinch away in disgust.

Not you.

You smile like the morning sun towards him as you step closer while dusting your hands off on your pants. The bit of dirt smeared on your face only seems to enhance your features in Cooper's eyes. The look you give him is almost shy once you meet his gaze, smiling warmly up to him. 

Cooper finds that curious. He's familiar with a scowl or grimace of disgust when anyone looks him in the face, but here you are gracing him with an easy smile. A customer is a customer, he figures, and he'll do well enough. Yet, your friendliness doesn't feel like an act. Even after all these years, Cooper Howard still can clock other actors.

"Fifteen caps for the whole lot, but I'll throw in an extra sweet potato for the smile." You wink. Wink right at him as your smile grows. "They're good for ya, handsome." You add casually, the smile tugging up further into a cheeky grin. Your expression shifts. Playful. Coy. Interested.

Ain't that something? Cooper doesn't falter at the full force of your attention. He's too old and worn for that, but he sure does grin right back with a twinkle in his eye. Even an old ghoul like him can enjoy a pretty thing like you openly flirting with him.

Now that he’s heard it, Cooper decides your voice is sweet as a silver bell. The sort of soothing tone that reminds him of rain softly pelting a windowpane. It's the sort of sound that makes him wish to stay and listen for a while, tucked into the warmth that he suddenly wants you to offer up. He wants to get you talking to hear more. Wonders how he can coax you into a conversation.

That’s a fucking stupid idea. Cooper mentally shakes himself free of the passing fancy, head tilting ever so slightly as he peers down at you from the shadow of his hat. "Mhm. Ain't trying to get me hooked now are you, sweetheart?

"Something like that." 

“Well now, reckon vegetables ain’t the worst sort of vice a man can get lost in.” Cooper still can’t help himself. He lets his eyes wander right down your body before flicking back up to your face, what sort of vice he’s pondering made clear.

That flush on your cheeks blooms all the hotter as you laugh for him, the sound an utter delight when directed his way. You smile, sweet and shy now as you pluck up a hefty sweet potato to set beside the rest of his purchases. 

“Oh, well-” You start, stop with a small shake of your head as you smile all the wider. Utterly disarmed.

Cooper counts out the requested coin with a speculative hum, mirth sparking in his eyes as it seems he’s rendered you speechless. It’s down-right adorable if he’s being honest with himself. You’re a right little temptation he’d like to play with further. A dangerous thought.

Setting the coins onto the counter, he's swift in sweeping up his new bounty and stowing it all away into a pouch within his saddle bag. This close you're too bright and Cooper knows he's in trouble. Best to break away before you pull him into your orbit in full.

“You take care of yourself now, sweetheart,” Cooper drawls. He tips his hat towards you and turns away with spurs clicking. You watch him go, cheeks still flaming.

You know who he is. The Ghoul, the most famous Bounty Hunter the radiated Wastelands has to offer. You've heard all the rumors and truer tales about him all your life but nothing could prepare you for seeing him in the flesh. A dangerous sort of creature. A man who always brings his bounty in. 

You'd been watching him all day, stealing glances as you work. Now that you've seen him up close and personal? You're down-right fascinated. He’s nothing like the monster the stories painted him out to be. At least, he certainly wasn’t monstrous to you. There’s something captivating about him. Charming, even. 

You’ve seen ghouls before, of course. You know their kind as some live on the settlement with you. The majority end up shambling and ungainly, limbs no longer listening as the radiation rot wars with their regeneration abilities. A confusion that makes most of them uncoordinated and awkward in their transformed bodies, but The Ghoul? He’s got a swagger to his step that reminds you of those cowboys you’ve seen on ancient holotapes. 

He’s been lurking at the edge of your awareness all day, your head cocking in his direction to listen to the cadence of his voice as he bartered for bullets and talked business outside of the bar over yonder.

A thrill had jolted through you the moment he started to move towards your stall. The nervous energy thrumming through you had been made all the worse when you met The Ghoul’s gaze for the first time. A woman could find herself lost in such eyes and you’d certainly tripped right into them. Boldly meeting this stranger’s gaze and enjoying every second his attention was on you.

Shame he left so quickly. You sigh, turning back to count out bottlecaps he’d left as you turn your attention back to work. Best not to think about it. You’re unlikely to see that legend ever again.

[almostfoxglove]

SEE YOU AT THREE

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Pairing: Young!Joel x f!Reader OC (Ellie's aunt)

Status: In progress

SUMMARY: When your sister starts working nights, you're stuck with afterschool pickup duty for your eight-year-old niece. You love the kid, so you don't mind. And, sure—maybe you don't mind having an excuse to check out her classmate's dad, Joel, five times a week, either. Pre-Outbreak / No-Outbreak AU Chapters alternate between Reader POV & Joel's POV

READ ON AO3 | masterlist

chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 chapter 4 | chapter 5 | chapter 6 chapter 7 | chapter 8 | chapter 9 chapter 10 | chapter 11 (new sep 1st!) | chapter 12

*number of chapters not final - more to come!

[ssahotchnerr]

everytime i watch the alaska episode this is the only thing on my mind: (it's about the quarterzip) (kinda nsfw)

being in a relationship with aaron, and the team is still unaware. due to the limited rooms available (!!!!!!!!!!!), the two of you pair up - soooo nonchalantly at that. as if the two of you aren't thrilled to be sharing, or have been waiting for this opportunity to finally arise. there's also just one bed, so aaron even makes a comment about taking the floor to throw them off further.

hehe so when the hotel door shuts behind the two of you, you tease aaron playfully about it, and he's all, "oh what was i supposed to say🙄🥰" the two of you start going through the motions of getting ready for bed, while talking about the case, about being in alaska of all places, or whatnot.

but that ultimately leads into aaron making a smooth comment about it being cold outside, but he can "think of a few ways to warm up" 🤭<3333

as aaron undresses you, showering you with kisses as your back hits the bed - you're all giggles. he shushes you with a smile and the reminder to be quiet, you do share a wall with dave and spencer after all. the two of you haven't gotten too far, hands wandering and are simply making out like teenagers, but are interrupted by penelope's distant cries of help from outside. you both freeze and immediately get up to see what's the matter.

but, aaron threw your shirt somewhere in the room. being in that rush and your first scan coming up empty, you grab the first thing you can find - his quarterzip.

so when everyone is outside; consoling penelope, observing the scene... despite it being dark, someone, maybe emily, notices and asks, "is that hotch's?"

you blush instantly (luckily the darkness hides that), and while the excuse of it being the first thing you can find is still valid - relationship or not - it's the start of the suspicions that lead the team into figuring the relationship out.

so you tell her the reason truthfully (leaving out the important details of course), but emily simply just squints her eyes at you, brushing it off (totally not brushing it off) with an 'okay🤨'

<333333

[a-little-unsteddie]

stuck in your throat || a/b/o

hi so today is @lexirosewrites’s birthday today and like,, idk three or so weeks ago she followed me (hi lexi <3 happy birthday <3 hope today has been fun <3) and to celebrate both of those things i started writing an omegaverse fic, and i wanted it done by today but it is grew a mind of its’ own and now it’s much bigger than i thought it’d be so instead of the full fic, have a snippet <3

again, happy birthday lexi <3

“Hello?” Steve answered, having learned to not open the call with who was answering without knowing who was calling from one too many scam calls

“Is this Steve Harrington?” A soft feminine voice asked, taking Steve by surprise.

“May I ask who’s calling?” Steve asked, not willing to concede his identity until he knew it wasn’t someone looking to sell him ‘Alpha Pills’ or something just as ridiculous.

“Of course! My name is Chrissy Cunningham, you sent in an application for being a full time nanny and tutor?” She responded with a cheerful voice. “I can’t <i>really</i> go much more in depth without an NDA being signed.”

Recognition zapped through Steve’s body and he sat up in his seat. “Oh! Yes, I’m Steve. Um. I’d be happy to sign an NDA, just may I ask why?”

“Yes, you may! My client is a big fan of privacy and only agreed to hire someone if they were under an NDA for the protection of their pup.” aaand all of Steve’s anxiety surrounding the NDA pretty much melted away. Sure, maybe it was a bit much to do, and sure, now he was dying with curiosity to know just <i>who</i> he had ended up applying to, but the knowledge that the NDA was for the protection of the pup soothed any anxiety Steve had originally felt about signing an NDA. In fact, it kind of made his omega perk up. He shook off the feeling, focusing on Chrissy.

“That’s actually really relieving to hear,” Steve said with a laugh. “When or where can I sign the NDA?” he questioned, wondering when Robin would be home so he could tell her.

“Well, first, you and I will do a preliminary interview, just like any other job interview. Then, if all goes well, I’ll send you an email containing the NDA for you to review and sign,” Chrissy explained clearly and cheerfully. “After you sign the NDA, my client will perform an in-person interview and then we’ll go from there.”

“That all seems pretty straight forward so far,” Steve replied, standing from where he had been lounging on the couch. He walked to the kitchen, where he and Robin had put up a magnetic whiteboard calendar to fill with each of their schedules and plans. He grabbed the blue marker, his color, and prepared to jot down when they’d have the interview.

“Perfect! Happy to hear it,” Chrissy said with an audible smile.

“When will the interview with you be?” Steve asked, biting his lip as he stared at the calendar, which had sparsely been marked with his blue marker, even since starting this job hunt. Robin’s plans were in red, and was much more abundant due to having three part time jobs.

“Well, as soon as possible, really. If you’re available now, we could take care of it right away.” the woman responded, sounding like she was walking into another room.

“Oh!” Steve exclaimed, recapping the marker and returning it to the pen holder. “Yes, of course. I’m available now.”

“Perfect!” Chrissy’s voice sounded from Steve’s phone as the omega walked back to the living room and sat on the couch. “So, starting off pretty easy here, what made you apply for this position?”

Steve thought back and grimaced at the reminder that it was Robin who had submitted his application to this particular job. He wasn’t about to admit that, though, and quickly found a more appropriate response.

“Well, I love taking care of pups, and I just got my teacher’s license a month ago,” Steve explained, which wasn’t a lie, so he figured it was probably as good of an answer as any. “I also saw that this job traveled, and my best friend thought that it’d be good for me.”

“Yes, that was going to be part of this conversation, too. So, you’re obviously alright with the traveling, then?” Chrissy asked and Steve heard what he thought could be pen scratching as she wrote notes. He swallowed thickly, suddenly anxious about what she was writing. He decided to ignore his anxiety, even as his scent soured around him with it.

“Oh, yes, traveling is more than okay,” Steve agreed immediately, “but it’s more important to me that I’ll be taking care of a pup, if I’m honest.”

This statement seemed to pique Chrissy’s attention, as the writing stopped for a moment. “Why is that?” she eventually asked.

Steve winced, wondering if he should be up front about it or not. If Robin were here, she would insist that he was honest. He decided on a half-truth.

“I’ve always wanted pups, and a lot of them,” Steve admitted, fidgeting with a loose piece of thread on the couch. He switched which arm was holding the phone, as he had started to get a little sore from holding it up for so long. “But I don’t have a partner, so I can’t really have my own right now. I discovered through babysitting for one of my neighbors that I have a knack for taking care of pups.”

The scratching noise was back as Chrissy listened to his responses. Steve was nervous he wasn’t doing well, but figured that it wasn’t going bad if she wasn’t suddenly calling the interview short.

“Your resume says that you’re good in high stress situations,” Chrissy said after a couple seconds of silence as she wrote down whatever notes she was taking. Steve briefly wondered if he should be doing the same thing. “I’m going to give you an example scenario, and you’re going to tell me how you’d respond.”

“Sounds simple enough,” Steve agreed, trying not to let his voice betray how anxious he was.

“For the sake of simplicity, we’ll say the pup’s name is Rosie,” she informed him before she continued to describe the scenario. “You’re taking Rosie to the park, when suddenly there is a crowd of people surrounding you and you lose sight of her. What do you do?”

Steve thought the scenario was odd, but not ‘out there’ enough to alarm him. He thought about his answer for a moment before replying.

“I would try to follow her scent, first, because that will usually lead me to any pup I’ve babysat. If that doesn’t work, I will call out for her. If the situation is bad enough, I would contact the authorities, and either you or Rosie’s father.” he paused for a second before continuing, trying to make sure he covered all of his bases. “But honestly? If Rosie is small enough, I would have rather carried her once I saw the crowd, or hold her hand, for the reason of lowering my chances of separation.”

Silence that’s only broken up by the scratching of pen against paper followed, and Steve was suddenly anxious that he answered incorrectly. He answered what he would do if it were his own pup, but what if that wasn’t right? What if he wasn’t cut out for this job?

“Alright, next scenario,” Chrissy said, moving swiftly onto the next one without commenting on his answer; Steve didn’t know if he preferred her not acknowledging it or if he would prefer to be told his answer was shitty up front. The next few scenarios were just as oddly specific, but Steve answered them exactly as he did the first one. He tried to not overthink his answers too much because between each one there would be a stretch of time that Chrissy used to presumably write his answers down.

“One last question and then we should be good to move forward.” Chrissy said a good twenty minutes of questions later. “When would you be available to start working?”

Steve’s eyebrows raised, surprised that he was seemingly, maybe being offered the job. “Um—immediately. I would need time to pack, but other than that, I’m free.”

“Wonderful,” Chrissy said cheerfully. “Alright, now it’s your turn. Do you have any questions for me?”

Steve hummed, trying to go through his usual list of questions he asked during interviews that hadn't already been answered and came up empty. “Not at the moment, but I’ll make sure to write any I think of down, if I do.”

“Perfect! So, I will consult with my client, and I have a few other applicants that are interested, but so far, you are my top pick, but I don’t make the decisions,” Chrissy laughed, as if Steve was in on the joke. He laughed with her, not knowing what else he should have done. So, maybe not a job offer, but it sounded promising anyway. “I will be in contact in a few days, three at most.”

“Sounds good, thank you so much for considering me, Chrissy,” he responded with a smile, hoping to leave one last good impression.

[estrellami-1]

Pay the Price

In which Steve needs Eddie’s help stopping the boys’ asshole behavior towards Lucas. He didn’t think he’d get anything more than a tentative alliance out of this, but best laid plans and all.

Part 1

“Eddie Munson,” Steve starts. “Heard you’re the man to talk to about teaching someone a lesson.”

A pause. “Uh,” Eddie says, “I mean, I don’t really do anything physical? But I won’t tell either, man, to each their own, I guess, unless you mean withholding weed, because that I can do. Depending on the lesson being taught.”

Steve chuckles. “No, nothing physical, and no weed withholding, either. Or at least, there shouldn’t be, considering they’re kids.”

Eddie sighs. “Okay, I get it. Prank call, right? Ha-ha, very funny, wanna get your laughs out now before I end the call?”

“Not a prank call,” Steve says evenly. “‘S about the kids I babysit. They’re in Hellfire. Mike’s being a little shit to Lucas.” A pause, “Dustin too, kinda, but Mike’s definitely the ringleader, y’know?”

“What the actual fuck,” Eddie says slowly, “is happening?”

Steve chuckles. “Like I said. The kids’re being shits to Lucas and I need your help curbing their behavior.”

“Who the fuck are you, man?”

Steve chuckles again. “Tell you what, ‘cause I doubt you’re gonna believe me unless you see me. You busy for the next hour or so?”

“You’ve piqued my interest. I’ll bite. No, I’m not busy.”

“Y’know Loch Nora?”

“Doesn’t everybody?”

“Last house on the right. Twenty minutes. See you then, Munson.”

Steve puts the phone back on the receiver and breathes out a sigh as he grins. This is gonna be fun.

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[mangostarjam]

leaving bite marks on kiyoomi's biceps. he wears compression sleeves up to the edge of his uniform shirt, so it should be fine, right?

not that you care, not that you're even thinking about it when he's got your ankles up by your ears and you're trying to stifle your moans in his skin. in the moment the sting barely registers, all of his focus is on the slick clench of you around him, the way your nails scrabble down his broad back as his thrusts grow erratic.

it isn't until atsumu spots the ring of teeth marks at the volleyball court later that he remembers.

"omi-omi, what's that?" comes out in a shriek that pierces his eardrums. kiyoomi doesn't even look at him, but the expression on his face is clearly ticked off.

"it's nothing."

"hold up, are those bite marks?" atsumu gets close enough to tug at the sleeves, but kiyoomi jerks his arm away. "what, were you fightin' a hellcat or somethin'?"

kiyoomi fixes him with a flat stare. "are you sure you go on dates?"

atsumu splutters. "whaddaya mean?! i go on tons a dates!"

"doubtful."