#It Was The Experience Of Awkwardly Standing With A Dude Over It

[jojotier]

worst art experience of my life was being trapped in a room with an old white guy while we silently watched the artist being gay impregnated by a gay porn star and then give birth to himself multiple times over. neither of us went for the headphones on the wall but i already knew they were playing some electronic funk bc this was the second time id gone to the exhibit bc i loved it so much. after like five minutes this old dude just turns to me and says "thank you" and then leaves. awful. 10/10 would do it again

[joelscruff]

truth or dare (joel miller x f!reader) 18+

notification blog | kofi | in honor of my bestie han @swiftispunk who recently celebrated her birthday (and in honor of spooky season starting 🎃) i thought i'd step outside the boundaries of what i usually write and try something new. i'd also like to give a huge shoutout to @toxicanonymity whose entire masterlist greatly influenced my desire to try something like this. please heed the warnings!!! and as i said this is my first time writing anything like this so pls be kind 🫠

summary: a harmless game of truth or dare ends with you tied up in a certain mysterious neighbor's garage. rating: 18+ explicit warnings: dubcon (reader is given a choice to leave, but not immediately), dark!joel, age gap (reader is college age, joel is in his fifties), unprotected p in v sex, use of restraints, ropes, spanking, degradation, sir kink, dirty talk (use of 'little girl' as a pet name), face fucking, rough sex, creampie, brief anal play, humiliation, inappropriate use of a household item (he puts a flashlight up her cooch), marking (with a sharpie), size kink (joel is much bigger than reader and can lift her), pls lemme know if i forgot anything word count: 8.3k

Your palms are sweaty, fingers sticking to your skin as you stand at the edge of the property with goosebumps already blooming along your flesh. The air is chilly, that end of summer evening air flooding your nostrils as a car drives past through streams of leftover rainwater, headlights blurring your vision for a moment. It passes quickly and you're alone again, standing on the street corner with a mixture of anticipation and dread filling your trembling body.

Everything had been fine about twenty minutes ago. A typical party with your hometown friends, one last hurrah before everyone splits off for the third year in a row to go back to their respective colleges, back to long lectures and underwhelming frat boys. It had gone the same way it always does when you get together - shots, secrets, schemes. No end of summer party could ever be complete without a game of truth or dare, not for your crowd anyway.

It had started simple. "Which one of us had the best glow-up this year?" "I dare you to text the last guy you slept with." "What's the kinkiest thing you've done with somebody?" "I dare you to show us the last nude someone sent you." Typical borderline adolescent challenges, things you all still followed through with despite being too old for the game - it's the principle of it, to indulge and pretend, if only for a little while, that life is as simple as it once was.

"Who's the last person you had a sex dream about?"

You'd twisted your hands awkwardly in your lap, felt heat rush to the apples of your cheeks. Usually a question like this wouldn't make you hesitate, but the subject of the answer had been a slightly embarrassing one. As soon as the name Joel Miller had fallen from your lips, you'd been met with screams and squeals and excited chatter from every direction.

"He's so fucking creepy though," one of your friends had said with wide eyes, palm over her mouth, "He gives off serial killer vibes."

"Oh please, he's not that bad," another had chimed in, "He's just a loner, kinda mysterious. I see the vision."

"Are we forgetting the part where he's old as hell? Dude must be in his fifties, at least."

"But that means experience."

"It could also mean limp dick."

"You guys are disgusting," you'd moaned, leaning back on your hands, "It was one dream, let's move on."

And they had. Briefly. Until it was once again your turn and they'd all rounded on you with cheshire cat grins and glinting stares. You should have known what was coming when you chose Dare.

"I dare you to go over to his house."

You'd resisted, of course. The dare itself didn't even make much sense; what were you meant to do? Go over and ding-dong-ditch his front door like a twelve year old boy? But it had only snowballed from there, all five girls tossing in their own thoughts and ideas, talking and giggling over each other. "She should ask him on a date." "She should just flirt a little bit, see how he reacts." "She could see how far she can get with him, maybe?" "Oh shit, that's good."

You could have always said no - there was no way any of them could force you to do it, even if it would have ended the party abruptly with grumbled complaints and a slammed door. But the more they talked the more you found yourself listening, letting the concept sink in, the images of the dream you'd had the other night flooding to the front of your mind. Mysterious and elusive Joel Miller, big hands covered in the motor oil he uses to tinker with his truck, trailing his messy fingers between the swells of your breasts...

They'd managed to convince you just by the reminder alone, though also due to the fact that they'd each tossed in a twenty dollar bill and stated that simply getting a kiss on the cheek would warrant a win. The prospect was intriguing; it would be a testament to your own desirability, your game. How far can you get with your quiet neighbor who probably hasn't touched a woman in years? Who'll probably fold the second he realizes someone as young and beautiful as you is interested in him?

"I'll do it," you'd said with a smirk, rising from the hardwood, "How hard can it be?"

Harder than you thought, apparently. Because now you stand a few feet from Joel Miller's house, loitering soundlessly at the edge of his front lawn, hesitating. The sun has gone down, turning the hedges along the side of his property into frighteningly tall shadows, dark and menacing. A light breeze flows past and you wrap yourself tighter in your well-worn maroon cardigan, shivering, staring at your boots and wondering if you can really bring yourself to do this.

It'll be so humiliating if he rejects your advances. On the other hand, will it somehow be less-so if he returns your flirtatiousness and you then have to reject him once you've gotten what you came for? How will that make you look? You're not even really sure why you care - probably because the man has done nothing to you whatsoever, nothing that would warrant such a foolish prank as this being played on him. It makes you feel bad, in a way. As much as you and your friends make fun of him, he really is just a man who keeps to himself - perhaps this is going too far.

You notice light flickering nearby, a reflection of fluorescents in the puddles of his driveway. You figured he'd be in his garage - it's where he spends most of his time, bent over the exposed hood of the truck he's seemingly been working on ever since he moved in at the beginning of the summer. You've never seen him drive it, never even seen him leave the property, but you've passed by the house on more than one occasion. You've seen the way he rolls up the sleeves of his flannel, forearms splattered black and grey, expression focused on the task at hand while sweat drips from his greying temples.

Having a sex dream about him really shouldn't have been that shocking, now that you think about it. The man is a mystery, sure, but he isn't ugly by any means.

You swallow down your qualms, picturing the faces of your friends more than likely smooshed against the living room window a few houses back, watching. As soon as you turn the corner, you'll disappear from view, obstructed by the hedges and the sudden darkness of night. You take one more deep breath, one last burst of chilly evening air into your lungs, and accept your fate.

--

He doesn't notice you walking up his driveway, taking slow and meager steps as you assess the open garage, the truck with its hood popped as usual, the flickering of the florescent lights hanging from the ceiling. He doesn't notice you, but you notice him. You spot a pair of steel toed boots and long denim clad legs sticking out from underneath the truck, hear the clink and clang of metal against metal while he tinkers with something down there, unseen. As you reach the garage it becomes apparent that you still have one last chance to end this before it begins, turn around and take the loss.

But you don't.

"Excuse me," you offer in a weak voice, teetering nervously at the edge of the garage door, neither inside nor out - neutral ground.

The clinking stops, replaced by the steady pounding of your heart in your chest, the heaviness of your breathing. You try to loosen your hands from their fisted forms and unclench your fingers, focusing on the stretch of flesh and bone while the legs beneath the car slowly begin to inch forward. He's not laying on any type of support, one of those wheeled contraptions you've seen other people use - no, he's simply got his back to the ground, a back and body that's slowly coming into view.

His black and green flannel rides up where he's been laying on it, as well as the grey t-shirt he wears beneath; as he slides out from under the car you spot a bare sliver of skin just above his waistband, a patch of hair that trails down into his jeans. A lump forms in your throat. When he finally peeks his head out, you swallow around it and try to remember to breathe.

Greying hair slicked back behind his ears, cheekbones smeared slightly with something black, scruff lining a strong yet soft jawline, a plump bottom lip, and those eyes... dark brown, almost black. It's the face that's practically been haunting you all summer, whether you want to admit it to yourself or not.

His brow furrows as soon as he sees you, "Can I help you?"

It's not the first time you've heard him talk, but it's certainly the first time he's ever spoken directly to you. His accent is stronger than you remember, words slipping smoothly past his lips like butter as he eyes you from the floor of his garage, knees up, hands still hidden in the darkness. A few seconds pass before you realize he's asked you a question.

"Oh, um-" You haven't thought this through very far, that's for sure. What the fuck do you even say? You take a breath and remind yourself that you're good at this, have seduced your fair share of frat boys in the past two years with minimal effort and have never heard the word no. Sure, Joel Miller isn't a frat boy - far from it - but underneath his cold exterior he's still very much a man, and very much capable of falling under the spell of a beautiful woman. You hope, anyway.

"I was just taking a walk," you lie, "Saw your light on, thought I'd come say hi."

He stares at you blankly, like he's unsure exactly how he's supposed to respond - or perhaps he's already seeing through your façade. You take a step into his garage, poised at the edge as you lean casually against the opening.

"Honestly, um-" you push some hair behind your ear and attempt to look shy, though it's not a huge jump from how you're actually feeling, "I've been meaning to talk to you, before I go back to college."

At your words he raises an eyebrow and slowly brings his hands downwards, palms pressing flat against the dark concrete. You watch as he eases himself up and out from under the truck, and god he's tall - tall and broad and huge compared to you, a fact that sends a little flutter into your belly. He takes a step toward the work bench against the wall, eyes still on you as he reaches down and picks up a rag to wipe his hands, big and wide and streaked with oil. You remember your dream and feel a twinge in your underwear.

"Talk to me about what?" he asks, massaging the rag against his fingers.

You shrug as nonchalantly as you can, taking another step inside his garage, closer to where he stands at the work bench. You cross your legs in an attempt to show them off, stretching your ankle toward a spare tire on the floor and accentuating the sheerness of your black tights, the little run that splits the material at the inside of your knee, the hint of bare skin that peeks out beneath.

"Nothing in particular," you say, keeping your voice soft and steady but doing your best to keep that shy girlishness present, "Just... wanted to." You peer up at him from under your lashes and bite your lip, then reach out your hand for him to take. You say your name.

He assesses your hand but doesn't take it, brow still furrowed. "Joel," he replies, "And I'm a bit preoccupied at the moment. Don't really have time to talk." His voice is cold and gruff, absolutely no sign of interest or attraction - dammit.

"What're you doing?" you ask, tilting your head.

He continues to stare at you blankly, "What does it look like I'm doin'?"

Okaaaay, then.

You shrug again and take another step, turning to look at the wall next to you. Tools line the shelves, wrenches and screwdrivers and the like dangling rather precariously here and there, smeared in motor oil and dust. It's a mess but you'd be willing to bet that it's organized chaos, that he likes it this way.

"What's this?" you ask, pointing to a particularly large object, something that looks like a mixture between a pair of scissors and a wrench.

"Bolt cutters," he supplies you monotonously.

"Ohh," you say with a nod, leaning a bit into the confused pretty girl stereotype and hoping maybe he's a sucker for it, "And what's that?" You point toward a small cylindrical object, black and tactical, only a few inches long.

"You never seen a flashlight before?"

Oh. Right. "Woops," you giggle, "Sorry."

You turn your face to look at him sheepishly and he's still watching you, big arms now crossed against his broad chest - impatient. Well, this is clearly not working either. He's frowning, eyes so focused on your face that you feel almost naked beneath it, like he's staring into your soul. You clear your throat awkwardly and tug your bottom lip between your teeth, breaking your own gaze away from him and trying to find something else to comment on.

"So you've been working on your truck," you state, gesturing toward the vehicle as if only just noticing it was even there, "What's - uh - what's wrong with it?"

He's clearly not buying into whatever the fuck you're even trying to sell. He remains silent, eyes still on you, and suddenly it's like you've never even interacted with a man before - and to be honest, maybe you haven't. Frat boys are certainly not men by any means, and nowhere near in the same league as Joel Miller by a long shot, probably almost triple their age with a dark and mysterious aura that feels almost suffocating. He just stares at you, slightly unnerving, but also seductive in its own way, almost like he's challenging you.

"What do you want?" he asks blankly.

"I-I told you," your voice is already faltering, losing its flirtatious edge the more you realize how dumb of an idea this was, "I just wanted to talk to you."

"Yeah, I got that," he says stiffly, "Why?"

You've already exhausted the avenues you thought might work, which means you've got one last chance before he sends you packing. With bated breath you take the final few steps toward him and - averting your gaze - you reach your hand out to touch his forearm with your fingertips. It's feather light, but you're suddenly very aware of the goosebumps that rise on his freckled flesh, the way the thick hair on his arms seems to stand on end the second your skin touches his. Okay, now we're getting somewhere.

"I think you're handsome," you murmur softly, feeling warmth rush to your cheeks when you realize that it's not a lie. And it really isn't. As your gaze gradually tilts up you catch a glimpse of the hair on his chest, peeking out from under his grey t-shirt. You spot his pecs beneath the fabric of his flannel, see the throbbing veins in his neck, the coarseness of his scruff, the sharp curve of his nose, and those fucking eyes - looking at you with a darkness, a lust, that wasn't there before.

He's not just handsome; he's fucking gorgeous.

"What're you doin'?" he asks you, that gruffness still present but being taken over by something else, something darker.

"Nothing," you breathe, still trailing your fingers along his forearm until they reach its apex and dip into the soft part behind his elbow, damp with sweat. You swallow, throat going dry as you stroke his skin with your thumb.

"Doesn't feel like nothin'," his voice is quieter, matching yours, and he tilts his head slightly as he continues to stare into your eyes, "Why're you really here, sweetheart?"

Sweetheart. The word sends a burst of warmth to your chest, a smile to your lips. You unlock your eyes from his bashfully, watching your own movements as you trail your fingers back down toward his hand and wrap them around one of his fingers, so thick compared to your own. You squeeze gently, biting your lip again as you peer back up at him. Here it is. Moment of truth. You tilt your head up slightly, eyelashes fluttering as you lean forward to connect your lips with his.

Except, they don't connect.

Instead he pulls his hands away from you, brings them upwards and wraps them around your upper arms, squeezing tightly. Your eyes widen, confusion flooding your features.

"Turn around and bend over."

"W-what?" Shock doesn't even begin to describe the ice cold feeling that now makes its way through your body, edged with something else - something you can't explain.

"Turn around," he repeats, his big hands squeezing your arms even tighter - relentless, firm - as he peers down at you with a dark hunger in his eyes, glinting black beneath the fluorescents, "And bend over."

He does not give you another chance to obey - you're too frozen in surprise and confusion to do anything yourself. Instead, he uses the force of his weight on your arms to spin you on the spot, shoving you against the work bench. You feel one of his hands move from your arm to your back, pushing hard until you fold, warm cheek coming to rest against the cold wood.

"Wh-what are you doing?" your voice is meager, weak, and you feel him wrap one of his hands around both your wrists like it's nothing, pinning them against your back like they're simply twigs in his wide palm.

"What you're clearly fuckin' beggin' for," he replies gruffly, and you feel his other hand at your skirt, feel the brush of his fingertips at the hem as he reaches upward to grip the band of your tights. Your eyes widen and instinctively you pull back, pull away - he just pushes you back down.

"I'm not-" you begin, shock quickly being replaced with fear when you realize how easily overpowered you are, how fluidly he's able to tug down your tights and expose your ass to him, clad in only a black thong already lost between your cheeks.

"Oh, you're not, huh?" his voice is cold and stoic, angry, "You think you can play games with me, little girl?" His hand comes to rest against the swell of your behind and you suddenly feel his breath above you, hot in your ear, "Tell me why you're really here."

You try to lift your head up to look at him better but he just shoves you back down again. Panic floods your body, mixed with the unmistakable burn of arousal. You feel yourself twitch in your underwear, feel a sudden gush of warmth spill inside the fabric as he begins to trail his finger up and down the thin line of black cotton.

"I-I'm..." You're at a complete loss for words, unable to articulate anything, unsure of what exactly is happening - or about to happen. Two minutes ago you'd been sure he was about to tell you to leave, practically kick you out of the garage himself, and now you're not sure leaving is even a possibility.

He pulls his hand back and you cry out when it comes down to slap against one of your cheeks, a sharp sting and burn you hadn't been anticipating.

"Tell me why you're here," he repeats - authoritarian, firm.

Your mouth opens but nothing comes out except a frightened squeak, something which clearly eggs him on even more. He spanks you again, harder this time, palm flat and wide against your pebbled flesh. The sound that slips past your lips is somehow akin to a moan of some sort, guttural and deep.

"I'll just make it harder and harder, sweetheart," he says then, and the pet name no longer contains the warmth it did mere moments ago; instead it's cold and detached, mocking. You're still reeling when his hand comes down to slap against you again, even harder this time, and your hands ball into fists behind your back as you let out another low moan. More slick gushes into your panties and it's impossible to deny that somehow, despite the fear twinging in your heart, you're so fucking turned on.

"M-my friends," you gasp out, and you feel him squeeze your abused ass cheek which you're sure is already dark with his handprint, "They- they dared me to see how far I c-could get with you."

He lets your words sink in for a moment, squeezing again - tighter, so tight that it hurts. You whimper against the wooden top of the work bench, legs shaking.

"So you came here to get fucked," he finally states.

"N-no, I swear, I-"

"Wasn't a question," he interrupts, and you feel his other hand tighten around your wrists, "You came here to get fucked so you're gonna get fucked, end of story."

"But I-"

Without any warning he suddenly pushes himself up against you from behind, the rough denim of his jeans pressing deliciously up against your exposed skin. You gasp, eyes going wide when you feel the long, thick shape of his dick between your cheeks, huge and hard. He holds it there, his free hand coming down to lay flat beside your head against the work bench.

"You feel that?" he asks, voice suddenly quieter but still full of that ice cold malice, "You feel that cock?"

Fuck. "Y-yes," you breathe, "I feel it."

"You have five seconds before i close this door and stuff you full, understand?" Suddenly all you can hear is the heavy sound of his breathing, the panting of your own, the thud of your heart where it presses painfully against the wood. He's giving you an out.

"I- I-" you swallow, brows furrowing when you feel his hand slacken around your wrists. You could pull away now, yank yourself out of his grasp and sprint down his driveway, return to your friends. Forget this ever even happened.

It's your last chance.

"Five," he begins, breath warm against your face.

Run. Just run.

"Four."

But why?

"Three."

Why don't you want to run?

"Two."

Why do you want to stay?

"One."

He pulls his hand up from the work bench and hits a button on the wall, eliciting a loud mechanical noise to your left as the garage door starts to close. You watch with wide eyes as your chance to leave slowly vanishes inch by inch until it's gone completely, and yet no part of you itches to run, to escape. There's nothing to escape from, you realize. You want to be here. You want him to fuck you.

As the reality of your situation starts to settle, his grip around your wrists tightens once again. You sense him reaching up somewhere above you, and you suddenly feel the harsh texture of what feels like thickly braided rope wrapping around your wrists. The realization that he's restraining you sends another pool of release into your panties, another faint squeak past your lips.

"You gonna stay still for me?" he asks, voice dark and clearer now in the silence of his garage, no sounds of rain or cars to disrupt you, "Huh? You gonna be a good girl?"

"Yes," you breathe, nodding against the wood.

"Say it."

"I'm gonna stay still," you promise, "I'm gonna be a good girl."

He finishes knotting the rope around your wrists, tight and uncomfortable against your skin. He pushes his groin up against your ass again, brings his now free hands downward to reach through your cardigan and squeeze your breasts. Your nipples are hard beneath the soft cotton of your shirt, no bra between the layer of material and your bare skin; he tweaks them in his fingers and you shudder.

"These are mine," he whispers in your ear, scruff nuzzling against the side of your face, "These tits, this ass," he drops his hands from your breasts to squeeze your cheeks again, "and this pussy." His hand drops to the puffy shape of your lips beneath your thong and you whimper. "Understand?"

"Y-yes."

"Yes, what?"

You're not sure what he's asking for, what he wants you to say. You take a guess. "Yes, sir," you whisper, and you feel him smile against your ear. Bingo.

He doesn't bother to pull your tights down the rest of the way; instead, he rips them, pulling them apart in his big hands and reaching inside to curl his index finger around the thin strip of your thong. He pulls it - hard - and it rips from you with a rough tearing sound and a painful sting, eliciting a loud gasp from you which he rewards with another spank.

You feel his finger slip between your lips for a moment, gathering some of your release before he pulls it away. "Juicy fuckin' pussy," he mutters, and you hear the sound of his zipper coming undone, vulgar in the quiet room. You have no time to ask about protection, no time to even really process how quickly this is already happening, before you feel the warm tip of his cock pushing against your twitching hole. You gasp again, hands furling under the ropes.

"Shh," he quiets you, stilling for a second, "Don't squirm."

"Sorry," you whisper, tears pricking in your eyes, "I'm sorry."

"What're you sorry for?" he murmurs, feeding his cock to you in small increments, reveling in the noises falling past your lips. It's so fucking big, bigger than you'd anticipated - it feels like he's spearing you, splitting you in half, especially without much preparation. It stretches and burns, but the warmth of it, the way it pulses as it invades your body, just makes you gush even more. "Hm?" he continues, "What're you sorry for? You sorry for squirmin' or sorry you pissed me off?"

Your eyes roll back as he bottoms out, his pubic hair pressing coarsely against your pussy lips, heavy balls firm to your ass. You try to speak but it's hard to get the words out when you're so full, the wide tip of him pushing into your cervix.

"You a virgin?" he asks you then, voice changing for a moment, like for the briefest of seconds he's wondering whether he should have gone slower.

You shake your head quickly, "N-no," you manage to gasp out.

"Feel like a fuckin' virgin," he grunts, pulling out and then immediately slamming back inside. Your head bumps against the work bench, a groan falling from your mouth as he makes a home inside you. "Christ," he mutters, "Tight little thing. You feel me in your stomach, baby?"

You're not sure he wants you to answer, but it becomes clear when his hand slaps down on your ass cheek again and you cry out.

"Yes," you moan, then quickly amend, "Yes, sir."

"S'what happens when you come in here, actin' like a little slut," he suddenly reaches for your cardigan and yanks it off - it catches on your restrained hands and he simply rips it and tosses it to the floor, "But then again, you're not actin', are you? Huh? What's a slut like you doin' wearin' all these fuckin' layers?"

"I'm s-sorry," you repeat, already mourning the loss of your favorite sweater, now ripped to shreds at your feet.

"Sorry's not good enough, little girl," he breathes, thrusting into you again so hard that you yelp, cheek still pressed into the splintered wood of the work bench, "That's it, fuckin' take it."

He fucks you without any reservations, any inhibitions. Your legs shake and you can hear the slap of his hairy thighs against yours as he pounds into you relentlessly. You have no choice but to take it, the stretch of his huge cock becoming less painful the more he gives it to you over and over, the room full of the wet squelch of your pussy gripping him. He grabs your hips, fingertips digging into your bare flesh as he takes and takes; you wish you could see his face, wish you could see how he looks when he's fucking you, getting his pleasure. The thought makes you whine, tears streaming down your face as your body moves back and forth against the work bench.

It feels fucking amazing. You've never had a cock as big as his before, never been fucked so deep and so hard, like he doesn't care if he breaks you, makes you cry. He hasn't touched your clit and yet you already feel you could come from just this, just the relentless push and pull of his dick inside you. Unfortunately, just as soon as you feel your orgasm starting to build, he pulls out. Your brow furrows.

"Stand up," he orders, "and turn around."

You obey, relief overtaking you as soon as you're no longer bent at such an awkward angle. The moment you turn to face him you barely get a look at his face before he's reaching down and tearing your shirt in half - easily, like it's nothing. You don't even have time to wonder how the hell you're gonna get home with all your clothes ripped to shreds when his mouth is suddenly wrapped around your left nipple, and you whine at the sensation. You peer down at him, biting your lip and watching his wet lips suckle around the hard bud, beard scratching deliciously against your skin. Your hand aches to cup the back of his head but it's still pinned behind your back, tied tight beneath the rope.

"Fuck," you whimper, and his dark gaze flashes up to meet yours as he sucks, the hint of a smirk on his lips when he pulls away.

"Feels good, does it?" he asks, and seeing the words come out of his mouth is somehow more sinful than when you could only hear them, "You like bein' used?"

You nod almost immediately despite never having experienced anything like this in your life - though admittedly you've undeniably wanted to experience this, ached to have somebody take control, tell you what to do, make you do things. It's like you've somehow known subconsciously all summer that Joel Miller could be that person for you, despite never having said two words to him. It was just a feeling, an instinct, and that dream...

"Yeah?" he continues, and suddenly his hand comes up to cup your pussy, thumb finally pressing against your clit. You cry out, tears still trickling down your cheeks. "Said you were in college, right? You take any college dick up here? Be honest now."

You nod again, "Y-yes."

"How many?"

"I... I don't know," you breathe. It's the truth, and you can tell as soon as the words leave your mouth that it does something to him. He presses his thumb harder against your clit, two fingers slipping up inside of you.

"'Course you don't know," he murmurs, pushing them as deep inside as he can, making you whimper, "You wouldn't know, would you?"

Your thighs tighten together - squeezing his hand - and he just smirks again, curving his fingers and making you moan. Your lower back digs into the work bench as he stands, pushes you up against it and peers down into your eyes again with a hunger that's only getting worse. You assess his expression, the pout of his lips as he fucks you with his fingers, the focused lines creased into his forehead. So fucking handsome.

"You're not a good girl," he breathes, nose brushing yours, "Knew it from the day I saw you. You're just made for takin' cock. Am I right?"

"Yes," you whisper, nodding shakily and bumping your lips up toward his - he pulls away again and you can't help but feel disappointed, aching to feel his lips against yours.

"Tonight you're made to take my cock, that clear?" he continues, and you watch as his other hand travels downward to wrap around it - just out of your periphery. He's too close to you, crowded so much in your space that you know he won't like it if you break eye contact. You can tell by his arm movements that he's pumping himself at the same speed he's fucking you with his fingers, inhaling deeply, "I'm gonna ruin you, sweetheart. Whether you like it or not."

"Y-yes sir," you whisper, voice squeaking when he speeds up his fingers and pumps them in and out with fervor, thumb rubbing furiously against your clit. Yet again he brings you almost to the edge and then removes his hand completely, stepping back with a low chuckle when you whimper pathetically.

Your disappointment only lasts a moment because now you can see him, see the girthy length of him that's already been inside of you hanging out of his zipper, glistening with your slick. He's huge, tip dark and intrusive, beads of his own arousal dripping from the slit; your mouth waters. His eyes cast down to where you're looking and he smiles, dark and mocking.

"Never gonna see another dick like this, darlin'," he breathes, "So you better start showin' your appreciation." His eyes glint. "Kneel."

You're practically already on your way to kneeling before he says it, in awe of the sheer girth and shape of him. The second your bare knees hit the cold floor he's crowding you again, hand coming around to hold the back of your head.

"Open wide, baby," he murmurs.

Your jaw drops and he plunges inside your mouth quickly and seamlessly, making you gasp around his length as your eyes widen. You can't breathe, looking up at him with more tears already fogging your vision as he immediately slips into the depths of your throat with no hesitation. You gag, eyes bulging as you attempt to swallow around the intrusion, find your breath, but it's impossible.

"Yeah," he breathes, both of his hands cradling your face and holding you still as he lets his cock sit unmoving in your throat, "Yeah, that's it. That's what you're made for."

He only holds it there for a few seconds but by the time he pulls it out you're gasping for air, coughing and spluttering as tears stream relentlessly down your cheeks. He keeps cradling your face, tuts to himself as you try to get your breath back. The head of his cock bumps softly against your bottom lip.

"Not off to a great start, are we?" he murmurs, "Let's try again."

He pushes his cock past your lips again and you try your hardest not to gag, a little more prepared this time. The pulsing head of his cock situates itself firmly in your throat, the pubic hair at the base tickling your nose while his balls bounce against your chin. You look up at him with pleading eyes, watch as he stares down at you with nothing but malice in his expression, contempt. You're just a hole to him, nothing more.

He pulls out and lets you gasp another breath before he's shoving himself back in, hands moving back to hold your head firmly as he fucks your face. You don't move - you don't need to; he does all the work as he drags your head back and forth along his cock, hitting the back of your throat over and over again until you're gagging and practically sobbing for air. Your knees ache against the concrete floor and you know you'll have bruises tomorrow, know that you probably won't be able to swallow properly for a few days either. Somehow, you don't really care.

When he's gotten his fill he yanks himself out and allows you to catch your breath for a few seconds, throat constricting around nothing while you choke and gasp.

"Stand up," he orders, and even though you're still gasping for air you manage to bring yourself back up, legs shaking. Saliva drips down your chin, drooling from your mouth in long strands, but with your hands tied you can't make any attempt to clean yourself up - he probably wouldn't want you to anyway.

His wide palms are suddenly on your hips, and he picks you up and places you on top of the work bench with minimal effort, arms bulging. You're completely naked now save for your ripped tights while he's still fully clothed, dripping cock still peeking out past his zipper, covered in your saliva. He steps between your legs and pushes your thighs open, then slips inside of you once again in one short push, making you yelp.

"Oh, please," he grumbles, gripping your hips tightly and pulling your bare body taut against him, head hitting his chest, "We both know you can take it."

It's not like you have any other choice at this point. He fucks you harder than he had before, now that he has easier access, can pull you so firmly against him that his entire length is continuously swallowed up entirely by your dripping pussy. His nails dig into your skin as his cock fucks up against your cervix over and over, so relentless it's almost painful. It's overwhelming how huge he is, not just his cock but his body in general, the way he towers over you and watches your expressions as he takes what's now his.

"Poor little thing," he mumbles, bringing one of his hands up to thumb the tears on your face, "Never been so full, huh? It's okay, shhh," his finger finds your lips and pushes against them almost mockingly, like he's chastising you, "Shhh, this is what you asked for, remember? S'what you wanted." You shake your head but he just nods, "Yeah, it is. You wanted that cock and now you're gettin' it."

Suddenly you're being lifted from the workbench, carried in his embrace with his cock still buried deep inside. You cry out, wrists straining against the ropes, itching to wrap your arms around his neck and hold yourself up with more stability. His arms come up to stretch along the expanse of your back, holding you still and pulling you even closer. As if on instinct your legs bend upwards to wrap around his waist, curling around his lower back while he pistons inside of you without restraint, without mercy.

"Fuck," you almost scream, feeling the rough denim of his jeans scratching against your ass, the heaviness of his balls slapping against you over and over again, "Fuckfuckfuck!"

"Yeah, there she is, there's that little slut," he says, a smile spreading across his face, voice somehow calm despite the fact that he's pounding into you over and over, "Nothin' like gettin' fucked stupid to sort ya out, huh? Needed to be punished, didn't you, sweetheart?"

You don't answer, can't answer, eyes rolling back as he fucks you with abandon. Of course it's not a surprise when he lands a hard spank against your ass, grips your cheek tightly in his palm and growls roughly in your ear, "Answer me, little girl."

"Yes," you force yourself to gasp out, head tilting back, "Yes sir, yes."

"S'right," he mutters, and you suddenly feel the pads of his fingers against your clit, rubbing at an aggressively fast pace that sends depraved noises spitting past your lips, "Come on that cock, tighten up that little pussy even more for me, baby, come on."

It only takes seconds for him to make you come, your eyes rolling back as your body shakes and writhes in his grasp. He doesn't slow his movements, keeps fucking you deep and hard as your legs loosen at his waist and you flop like a ragdoll in his arms.

"Chokin' that dick," he murmurs, "Had so many cocks in this little hole and you're still the tightest thing I've fucked," his brow furrows as he watches your face, watches as your eyes flutter open and your jaw slackens, "And what about your other hole, baby?" You feel one of his fingers prod against your asshole, circle the rim as he continues to bounce you up and down, "Ever had a cock in there?"

You tense up a little in his embrace, eyes widening. At your reaction he slows his movements, still holding you upright and allowing you to just sit on his cock for a moment while he continues to prod your asshole, "I'll take that as a no," he mutters, "Think my cock'll fit up there?"

"It won't," you whisper immediately, shaking your head.

He assesses your expression, eyes trailing up and down your face calculatingly, like he's weighing the pros and cons. Your heart stutters in your chest and you feel that fear from earlier slowly begin to creep back into your psyche, hands shaking under the rope.

"I won't," he states, and relief floods through your body; you relax in his embrace, becoming aware again of his cock still buried deep inside you. He very carefully prods the tip of his index finger inside your asshole and your eyes go wide again, mouth opening in protest. "Yet," he amends, smiling coldly at you, "I won't yet. Not today."

He pulls his finger out and walks with you to the work bench again, places you down gentler than before and peers at you with something in his gaze that you can't place, a curiosity that wasn't there before. It's gone in an instant though, and then he's fucking into you again without warning, gripping tight to your hips and slamming back and forth until you see stars.

"You thought this'd be so funny, didn't you?" he growls, looking at you again with that detached contempt, black eyes locked with yours. He brings his hand down and starts rubbing your clit again, not caring that you only just came a moment ago. "Thought you'd come here, have your fun, and leave again. But it's not so funny anymore, is it? Huh? Is it funny?"

"N-no," you gasp out, overstimulated to the point of even more tears as you squirm and writhe on the work bench, pussy aching from the insistent way he's pounding you and the relentless rubbing of his fingers against your clit.

"S'the last time you show up here tellin' lies," he mutters, "Understand me? Any time you come into my house from now on you're gettin' fucked, got it?"

"Y-yes," you cry, hands futilely attempting to ball into fists behind your back, and he shakes his head.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, sir!" you scream it, and just as the words pass your lips he stills inside of you, cock twitching as he starts to come. Your eyes go wide, mouth dropping open as his hand sends you into another climax just as he reaches his. Your head falls against his chest and you hear him groan above you, feel the way his cock pulsates and throbs and spits his cum in long and heavy spurts. Your thighs twitch and you feel his hand at your back, pulling you in close as he cups the back of your head.

You stay like that for a moment without speaking, your heavy breaths the only sound in the garage other than the rain now pelting heavily against the door. You swear you can hear his heartbeat.

"Good little girl, warmin' my cock," he murmurs in your ear, and you're still catching your breath, eyes closed, sobs wracking from your throat repeatedly. "Full o'me, huh? You feel all that, baby?"

You can only nod against his chest, wrists still straining against the rope as your toes curl somewhere below you and your body continues to shake. His cum settles warmly deep inside and your eyes roll back a bit when he pushes in further, like he's trying to keep it inside for as long as he can.

"Guess I found a new little cum dumpster, huh?" he whispers, carding his fingers through your hair, "I'll have to say thank you to your friends, or -" he pauses thoughtfully for a moment, "maybe I'll just have to send 'em a little message back with you."

You pull your face back from his chest, peering up at him with tired confusion. He reaches down and pulls out one of the drawers of the work bench, coming back up with a sharpie. You watch with fluttering lashes, unable to stop him - and not really wanting to - as he uncaps the marker and pushes your hair out of the way to write something across your chest, the cold tip making you jolt slightly.

"Shh," he murmurs, "It's okay, I'll untie ya in a sec."

It doesn't take him very long to finish writing whatever it is on your skin, and then he's slowly pulling his cock out of you. You whimper at the loss, thighs twitching as you peer down and watch his softening length slip past your hole, followed by a steady stream of his cum. He quickly reaches up and pushes what he can back inside, thumbing it back in carefully while the reality of what's just happened really begins to settle. You just let a man in his fifties tie you up, use you, come inside you, and write on your chest.

"Can't have all that slippin' out yet," he mutters, "Now, what can we use?" His eyes dart up to the shelves above you and he reaches up to grab something; when his hand comes back down you see the pocket flashlight from earlier, see the slightly flared base and know almost immediately what he's planning on using it for.

For some reason - whatever reason it is that you stayed here after he gave you an out, whatever reason you really came here in the first place - you don't protest.

He brings the flashlight downwards and quickly removes his hand from your pussy to replace it with the wide end, slipping it inside with only minimal resistance. You whimper and he hushes you, brushing his nose against yours as he assesses his handiwork.

"That should do it," he murmurs, then peers back up at you and pushes some stray hair out of your face "You keep that in there 'til you get home, okay?" His eyes have softened a bit, looking more similar to the way they did when you first showed up - is this the real him? You honestly have no idea.

You don't say anything, just nod slowly, feeling the anxiety from earlier begin to sink in yet again. How are you going to get home when you have no clothes? How are you going to explain to your friends what happened? How can you tell them - or show them - what you let him do to you?

These questions are clearly none of his concern. You watch as he backs up and gestures for you to stand with him; you do, with beyond shaky legs and the cold metal of the flashlight between your thighs.

"Turn around," he orders.

You feel him untie the rope from your wrists, essentially ending your time here - whatever it even was. It somehow doesn't feel real. You let them hang limply at your sides, feeling embarrassment flood your cheeks as you turn back around to look at him. He's watching you with a smirk, arms crossed - his dick is back in his jeans. He looks no different than he had when you arrived.

"Now get the fuck out," he says, dark eyes glinting once again under the flickering fluorescents, "before I change my mind."

--

The air is still chilly. The road is still wet. But thankfully, there are no cars.

You don't know how you manage to get home without anyone seeing you - hunched over, naked in the darkness, avoiding the streetlights, trying to ignore the ache between your legs and the icy intrusiveness of the flashlight still lodged inside of you - but you do. Your palms are sweaty again, heart pounding at the thought of your friends coming to greet you at the door, for the shock and confusion and screaming to begin - but that doesn't happen.

The moment you're back in the house you pull a jacket down from the coat rack and cover yourself, tiptoeing past the living room and waiting to be accosted by the friends who put you in this situation to begin with. Instead, they're nowhere to be seen. You hear the faint echo of laughter from the kitchen, hear the sounds of glass clattering and a fridge being shut. It's like they've already forgotten you even left, like the game meant nothing, and they've already found something new to entertain them, something better.

As if your futile attempt at getting a kiss on the cheek from Joel Miller is already something lost in the past.

And, you think, as you shakily climb the stairs and creep into the bathroom, tear the jacket from your shoulders and stare at your bare chest in the bathroom mirror, see the dark permanent lines that read TRUTH OR DARE...

Maybe that's how it should be.

[theminecraftbee]

Joel sits awkwardly at a family dinner table that isn’t for him.

It’s nice and all, he reckons, for Impulse’s family to invite him over after he leaves the hospital. Even before—everything—Joel’s family hadn’t really been the “big meal around a big table” type, so he’s getting some new experiences here too. And it’s nice and all, that they want to thank him for his role in finding Skizz.

But like. It’s not like he or Impulse or Skizz could explain how it happened, when asked. “Magic brain ghosts” and “evil butterflies” and “Joel still isn’t certain all of that was real and is trying to pretend it wasn’t” puts a damper on that. Also, adults are kind of shit at talking around the fact Joel’s whole family is dead, so he gets the sense he’s sort of harshing the vibes, you know?

Still. It’s a nice gesture. He guesses. It’s free food at least, which is decent, and as close as Impulse and Skizz are, every time one of Impulse’s family says something stupid, Skizz taps Joel’s leg with his foot or steals a roll or something, and it makes Joel feel…

He’d have been sad if Skizz had died, probably. Like, he wouldn’t know. He didn’t come here to make friends, he came here to get a degree and get out. Also, that’s stupid, because it’s not like Joel would have known he was missing a really awkward congratulatory family dinner in which Skizz kept on trying to sneakily steal beans. Probably would have just moved right on. He’s not… friendly.

But.

They stand outside afterwards, waving by to Impulse, promising to walk together so that neither of them Vanish. They’re quiet.

“Thanks, man. That meant a lot to them,” Skizz says.

“Yeah, well, I can do stupid things for free food,” Joel says.

Skizz laughs. “It was nice having you there, too. Man, they’re even worse with you! It’s like not knowing you means they’re even more awkward about family tragedy.”

“Trust me, most adults are way worse. You should see my social worker,” Joel says.

“Didn’t he ditch you, dude?”

“Haha, yeah, he did,” Joel says.

They stare up at the streetlamps together.

“I was really ready to go for a bit there,” Skizz says. Joel’s hackles raise. Oh no. Emotions. Bad. Go away. “It was like—man, it felt like the whole world was empty. But when you showed up, it’s like I remembered… I’d miss dinners, dude.”

“I have no idea why, that kinda sucked,” Joel says, baffled and sarcastic, because he’s a moron who can’t handle emotional conversations, this is why everyone avoided him at the funeral, stupid.

Skizz breaks out laughing.

“You’re great, man! I’m glad we met. Uh, my place is only a block away, and I won’t go following any stupid butterflies. See you at school?”

“Yeah man. See you,” Joel says—

I am thou.

Thou art I.

Thou hath formed a new bond.

With the power of the Chariot Arcana, you shall build the chains with which to hold on to reality.

RANK 1!

“What the hell?” Joel says, tripping over his feet. “What? What? Where did—what the fuck that wasn’t Pygmalion oh god do I have more than one voice in my head—”

“Dude, are you okay?”

Skizz’s almost frustratingly strong and comforting arms grab Joel.

“Tell me you heard that,” Joel says desperately.

“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about. I could take you back to the hospital—no?”

“I am either crazy or am going to end up in a government lab?” Joel says, voice getting high and squeaky.

“We can ask Mr. Hills about it? He came to talk to me after I woke up in the hospital, apparently he like, knows stuff,” Skizz says.

“I don’t wanna,” Joel says.

“Tough luck, buddy, you just almost fell over and cracked your head open!”

Suddenly, Joel remembers a long-nosed man and a blonde in a very blue boat. He remembers a cryptic conversation about bonds and power and their importance. He takes a deep breath. “Can you cover your ears for a moment?” he says.

“Yeah, sure thing, why—”

Joel, as loudly as he can, screams. He hears several birds fly away. He pants.

“…Joel,” Skizz says.

“Yeah thanks man don’t worry about it let’s never speak of this again I’m sure it’s nothing. I definitely didn’t have a weird dream about this and should go to bed.”

“Yeah, okay, whatever you say,” Skizz says cheerfully before laughing, which Joel continues grumbling about all the way back to his apartment.

[leliawrites]

OMG PLEASE WRITE SOMETHING FOR WEESA LIKE MAYBE DATING HEAD CANNONS AND WHATS IT LIKE AFTER ONE OF YOU CONFESS AND WHATS DATING HIM LIKE😫

dating weesa??!!

twt wasnt lying. HE IS A TOTAL LOSER IN LOVE!! #1 LOVERBOY HOPELESS ROMANTIC

is COMPLETELY different with you v.s with others

super inexperienced with love, relationships, etc. so he's awkward and dumb when it comes to it, but his kindness shines through.

like in public hes super idgaf but he is so comfortable around so expect him to be extra vulnerable. he is VERY communicative and trusting. you talk to him about your problems and vice versa.

talks in his baby voice!! everyone sees him as big and intimidating cuz hes so tall (even you did at first) but he's just a softie and isn't afraid to show it around you

"can you pleaseee come over i miss you my sweetie pie :(" he pouts into the video call cooing for you

"what." jimmy walks in, surprised at the youngest curled up in the couch talking in baby

weesa clears his throat "i mean... uh... you could totally come over if you want... babe..." he spits condescendingly.

you and jimmy both burst out laughing feeling really really embarrassed for this try-hard "cool "dude.

he's dating you, but married to his phone!! you have to keep reminding him to pay attention to you.

"what are you even looking at??" you snatch his phone from him only to find he's been searching for the perfect widgets to put on his homescreen for his new wallpaper: a polaroid of you two at the arcade last week. he does this every. single. date. he's so obsessed with you.

lovey dovey loverboy!

he fell in love with you at first site. no literally. the first time he saw you he muttered under his breath, "holy fuck". "sorry what?" you asked. "uh. nothing. my name's weesa. ok bye." he smiled awkwardly and ran away. what a weird guy...

couldn't even ask you out straight up.

"so uh do you have a boyfriend... or other kind of friend ?"

"no" you smiled, awaiting the big question.

"cool... cool.... do you... like hamburgers?"

"uhm. i guess?" it feels like you've been standing here forever.

"omg that's so crazy i like hamburgers too! we're quite similar dont you think?"

"its a popular food dumbassass" ren sighs, walking right past you two.

"so do you want to go out to eat hamburgers or any other kind of food you like there's no pressure at all-"

"are you asking me out?"

"yes! unless you dont want to. in that case im just asking from a friend to a friend but like, i really respect you and your choices either way-"

you cut him off by giving him a kiss on his cheek.

"stupid, i'd love to go out with you," you cheekily whisper.

first date?

he took you to his favourite restaurant. actually, those were the first 12 dates. just different restaurants and cuisines. back to the first one.

the whole time, he was just fascinated with you and your ideas. asks you SO MANY questions about your hobbies because he loves the way your eyes sparkle when you talk about your passions.

"so what kind of yarn do you like to use when you crochet?" he doesn't really care for crocheting, but gosh, he could drown in threads of yarn if it meant seeing you this happy.

hours fly by and you two are still seated, entranced in each other's words. he cuts you off while you were recalling your most embarrassing drunk story, "i think i'm in love with you." you spit out your drink. but you can tell he's not kidding.

...so yeah! he's the type to confess after the first date.

dependable and trusting when you're down ;((

despite lacking experience in the relationship department, he really is such a good guy that you don't have to worry about anything else.

you were laying in his arms on your bed, both of you doom-scrolling. you were having a bad day but didnt want to burden him.

"you know, you don't have to feel like you're burdening me with your struggles", weesa says, his eyes still glued to his phone.

woah, did he just read your mind?

he continues, shifting to look at you, "that's what i'm here for. lay it all on me, love" he lightly strokes your hair and caresses your cheek.

"ugh you're the best" you fall into his arms, knowing you're home and you never have to second-guess yourself around him.

you talk to him about your problems for hours and hours. sometimes when he can't keep up, he writes stuff down in his journal, so he never forgets what you're going through. HE LISTENS AND HE CARES SO MUCH.

and when you're apart, he sends you a flower or a cake to cheer you up. "even when you're far from me, i'm always right behind you. - weezur" the note in the bouquet reads.

anyways, hope you enjoyed this im about to go jump 0ff a cl1ff now HES SO CHEESY AND ADORABLE UGHHHHHHHH43OHUIFREQLBERQHRQHALI

[thegoblinboy]

Ok so random thought, but what if Steve was trans (ftm) and no one realizes it. Not even Robin. Just hear me out on this.

The first question out of this I know I’ll get is “Why wouldn’t Steve come out to Robin as well? Why doesn’t Robin know?” Well in my head cannon I believe Steve is aware that he’s trans but just simply forgets. He’s just a guy being a dude in a very judgemental world. That and he’s under stealth mode, he doesn’t want to be treated differently. He’s proud to be trans but in his mind he’s like any other guy, he doesn’t stand out. He’s transitioned socially that he doesn’t even think to much about it unless he’s in the men’s bathroom.

(Also for this au that is being built from scratch this is going to be modern, because I don’t want to accidentally put my experiences as a trans man on a transguy in the 80’s. I’m fully aware that they are different which is why I’m turning this into a modern au.)

There’s loopholes in this idea but I don’t care. Just Steve Harrington who is still getting used to being treated like a man socially. He doesn’t understand the hand shake thing with Lucas or the other jocks and he’s still a bit nervous about all of it. Like he’s finally fitting what he feels and he loves it but hates it at the same time. Because now he has to learn how to be a proper “gentleman” in public, which is a lot easier then hoe he was taught to be a lady. Now both of his parents are not conservative. Shockingly. So they are more open to things then most. Though secretly his father has always wanted a son to pass the business down to and this is the perfect opportunity. His mother isn’t to happy but she finally gets on board. Once he’s sixteen he starts hormones and switches schools, where he becomes king steve. Where he falls into a toxic masculine group of Tommy’s so he can “fit” in.

But then things start to go down hill with the upside down. And everything goes by normal. He meets Robin and they are two pees in the pod. Just missing one, that they are not really searching for but are?

The whole trans thing comes up when they are all in the boat and Steve’s a bit panicked because this means he has to take his shirt off in front of them. This can go to so different ways.

A) He hasn’t had top surgery yet and is currently wearing his binder. Which is skin toned but doesn’t match. He’s beat red as he catches the curious eyes of all of them on the boat. None of them knowing what a binder is. Robin of course asks what that is, and avoiding the question he jumps in and goes under. (You aren’t supposed to swim with your binder on) and he regrets all of his life decisions before coming back up and then being pulled back down. Everyone of course follows along, and after all of it Steve is in a lot of pain. Between the bite and his ribs he has no choice but to pull his binder off. Everything is explained and he’s really embarrassed as he finally gets the damn thing off while holding his chest. Trying to hide his boobs, in which Eddie ends up coming over with the vest. Wrapping it around Steve carefully with the most awkward back pat ever. Like it’s not brought up, but Steve does end up wearing one of Eddie’s old baggy shirts from what’s “83” but really a different year because it’s modern. And his vest as well to help cover his chest and it’s the most gender euphoria ever. (Also he still has a hairy chest, so before he gets the shirt and the vest is covering most of his moobs Eddie nearly dies seeing his chest hair)

Or it goes B) where he’s had top surgery but it’s been a bit more recent. He’s still recovering and he has to awkwardly check his wrap his on properly before diving in. Like he shouldn’t be swimming either and he has to awkwardly explain what top surgery is to them. And robin who can’t help the jokes

“I thought you liked boobs!”

But just Steve being fully accepted. And after everything Eddie just sneaks some more baggy masculine clothes that Steve has been wanting to wear but weren’t preppy enough for his parents.

Like there is so much with this idea

(This all started because I pictured Steve with top surgery scars with Eddie’s vest, but also pre op steve with his vest is also equally as gender. Though do not feminize his chest or else I’ll bite you.)

[watchmegetobsessed]

JUST HOW FAST THE NIGHT CHANGES (part 2)

A/N: okay okay part 2! here we are!! my progress about the story is not as fast as i would like it but im trying my best!! feedback is always appreciated!

PAIRING: Harry x High-School-Best-Friend!Reader

WORD COUNT: 3.6k

SERIES MASTERPOST | SUPPORT ME!

Harry has thought of seeing you again so many times in the past months, he imagined this moment when he lied in bed, counting the days until he meets you again after all this time, but seeing you in real life is nothing like his daydreams. 

You’ve changed so much, yet he can see the version of you he last saw clearly too. Your facial features have matured, your hair is longer than he was expecting, though he only saw pictures of you from the past years. You have a black wrap-around dress on that’s hugging your curves that look absolutely delicious. 

It’s pretty obvious you’ve put on some weight and judging from the way you nervously keep fixing your dress every other second, it’s something you feel insecure about, but Harry cannot take his eyes off you and he forces himself to tame his already wandering thoughts. 

“Dude, close your mouth!” Beckham walks up to Harry, patting his shoulder to snap him out of his trance. 

“Shut up,” he mumbles under his breath, averting his eyes from you, but it only takes a few seconds before his gaze returns.

“Go say hi,” Beckham encourages him, but he shakes his head no.

“Later. I don’t… I don’t think I’m the person she wants to see the most.”

Beckham laughs as he walks away with his beer while Harry returns to his seat that’s not as close to yours as he would want it to be, but at least you’re on opposite sides, so he can keep an eye on you as the dinner finally starts. He can faintly hear your voice over the chatter every time you speak up or laugh at something and he wishes he was part of the conversation as well, sitting next to you instead of sneakily stealing glances.

Sometime after the main course and before the dessert it’s suggested that everyone say a short little summary of what happened to them in the past decade, and the round starts, everyone curiously listening to what their old pals are saying. 

“Um, hi,” Harry chuckles awkwardly when it’s his turn. “Well, I’ve had a pretty busy couple of years,” he grins, making everyone laugh. “I don’t know what I can say that you can’t read online, but let’s pretend you know nothing. So I just published my third solo album not long ago, I’ve been really enjoying experimenting with music on my own, though I loved my time in the band as well. I’m working on new stuff lately and I still have part of the tour coming up. I’m doing good, it’s all good,” he nods to himself before smiling around and giving the word to the next person. 

While he is interested in what everyone has to say, he is mostly looking forward to your turn finally so he can shamelessly stare at you while you talk.

“Hi everyone,” you smile nervously around, squaring your shoulders as attention turns to you. “Um, I don’t really know where to start. I started marketing at college, but I didn’t really like it and I was learning coding at the time so I thought I would start a career in that field. I went to an intense training so now I mostly make websites, but I do other stuff too. Um… I live here in London as most of us do now,” she chuckles, the class sharing her smile. “Nothing… Nothing else to share, really,” she adds in a mumble and looks to her right, signaling that she is done talking, it’s time for the next person.

It wasn’t enough. Harry wants to know more, everything if that’s possible and if it wasn’t for all the people around him, he would stand up and just sit beside you, asking you dozens of questions.

But he has to sit and wait patiently, pretend like you’re not the only one he is interested in the bunch. 

An entire hour passes by before he sees you slip away from the table and out to the back patio. Part of him tells him he shouldn’t follow you, but he just can’t stop himself. He excuses himself from the conversation and heads after you, hoping no one will notice him missing inside.

In the summer time there are tables outside as well with fairy lights creating a cozy mood, but it’s too cold right now to sit outside, so it’s only used by smokers occasionally. When Harry steps out as he slips into his coat he spots you right away in the corner, scrolling on your phone as you’re probably having a break. Even when you were younger, you often told him your social batteries easily run out and those were the times Harry gladly sat outside with you until you felt comfortable enough to go back inside. Seems like not much has changed. 

“Hey,” he breathes out and watches your eyes widen when you realize he came after you.

“H-Hi!” you clear your throat, slipping your phone back into your pocket.

“Having a social break?” he smiles warmly, standing only a few feet away from you.

“Yeah,” you chuckle.

There’s a bit of a pause where you’re not too sure how to act with Harry right next to you and he is stunned as well. There’s so much he wants to say and do, but he doesn’t know how you’d react. He doesn’t know about a lot of things when it comes to you but he is determined to change that. 

“So… how have you been?” he asks at last, the ure to speak up taking over the silence.

“Um, I’m fine. Fine, yeah,” you nod. 

“Do you still work at that civil organization, or…?”

“You know I worked there?” you ask, the surprise is pretty apparent on your face. 

“Of course,” he smiles softly, a blush tinting his cheeks. 

“Uh, I’m not there anymore. I work for a bigger company.”

“But still in marketing?”

“Yes,” you nod. “I can do more designing here on the side, that’s why I switched.”

“You like it?”

“It’s good. But work is work, you know, I was never the kind to be obsessed with my job.”

As you say that you realize he can’t know that, because you weren’t talking by the time you started working. It brings the awkwardness right back and he knows he needs to address some things before moving on.

“Y/N, I hope you know I didn’t… I didn’t want us to eventually stop talking. It’s just that so much happened, all at once and I didn’t take all of it the best way either. I should have focused more on my oldest friendships. I’m sorry, that’s what I’m trying to say.”

“It’s fine,” you shake your head with a weak smile. “People have fallouts all the time, it’s natural.”

But it wasn’t supposed to happen to us, Harry wants to say, but he bites his tongue. He shouldn’t bring everything up the first time you see each other.

“But we could start again,” he suggests, holding his breath as he watches your reaction to his words.

“Start again?”

“Yeah. I would… love to catch up with you, hear about everything I missed. Only if you want to tell me about it, of course.”

You stare back at him for way longer than he would have loved it and it convinces him it’s the part where you tell him to fuck off. He wouldn’t be surprised, you haven’t talked in ages and now he is so desperate to reconnect. You have every right not to want him back in your life even if you never had a fight that resulted in the fallout.

He is about to take back what he said, but you finally speak up.

“Okay,” is all you say with a tiny nod. 

He’s shocked, to say the least, even though he was hoping you’d say that. But seeing that small smile on your face is all he needs right now.

“Cool,” he breathes out. The door behind him opens and another guest walks out to have a smoke, making them realize they should probably return to the table. “Look, if you’re free sometime soon, I’m staying until the end of the month. We could have lunch, dinner or even breakfast,” he chuckles. “I would love to see you again and talk. Just the two of us.”

“Alright, I’m in.”

“Cool! Great!” he enthuses, probably more excited than he should be, but it doesn’t matter.

The two of you return to the table soon, no one really noticed that you slipped away, but it leaves Harry with a silly smile on his face that widens every time he looks at you again. Suddenly, he feels like a teenager all over again, he is in that basement with his best mates, just having fun, looking forward to spending some time alone with you.

Your bike rides home together were always his favorites, even the ones when you didn’t exchange a single word. He just loved seeing you by his side, the way you always squinted your eyes when the wind blew harder than usual, how you always checked back at him if he was behind you whenever you were about to cross a road. These are all tiny things that are etched into his memories probably forever.

Sometime towards the end of the evening Bee gathers your little group and asks to talk to you outside. You stand in a circle, everyone eyeing her suspiciously as she tries to hold her smile back, Lucas standing right behind her.

“So, there is something that we would like to share with you guys,” Bee starts and without any time to waste, she pulls out a ring from her pocket and slips it on her finger, holding it up, her grins stretching from ear to ear.

“Oh my God!” Chloe gasps as she realizes what it means. “Congratulations!”

It’s a shock, but not really. Bee and Lucas became an official item sometime before graduation, had a short break during college since Lucas studied abroad and long distance took a toll on them, but they found their way back not long after. Engagement was definitely the next step after they moved together three years ago and adopted a dog just last year.

But still, it’s shocking for Harry to see his old pals move on in life together. There’s a pang of jealousy in him too, but it’s overruled by the happiness.

There’s a round of hugs and congratulations before Bee reaches for her purse and pulls out a stack of envelopes.

“We want to invite you all to the wedding that’s gonna be held in June. You guys have been here from the start and it only feels right if you’re there with us on our big day.”

“Man, I might even start crying!” Joshua jokes, but Harry can see the shimmer in his eyes as he takes his invitation.

“Don’t get too mushy,” Lucas chuckles, patting his shoulder. 

Chloe is already talking Bee’s ears off about the wedding and offers to help with basically anything, while you’re examining the invitation card with a soft smile on your lips.

Harry’s excitement runs even higher when he realizes it’s gonna be another occasion where he’ll see you, though he plans to meet a few more times until June.

The night stretches long, it’s way past midnight when the last guests get ready to leave. Harry has been keeping an eye on you all evening in case you wanted to slip out, but you stayed until the end and he doesn’t hesitate to take this opportunity.

“Do you have a ride home?” he asks, when you’re putting your coat on.

“Um, I’ll just call an Uber or something.”

“We can share, I already called one.”

“Oh, okay, thanks.”

In front of the building everyone says their goodbye, heading their own way and you are left alone with Harry on the curb as the car pulls up.

“So when will you be free for that breakfast slash lunch slash dinner?” he asks, not wanting to miss the chance to see you again.

“I have to check my work schedule, but… I’ll text you, okay?” “Promise?” he arches his eyebrows.

“I promise.”

“Okay. Just so you know, if you ghost me I will come for you.”

“So you’re that desperate?” you chuckle and he just shrugs with a smirk.

“I’m just eager to start over and reconnect with you.”

“I’ll text you, don’t worry. My days are just… a bit hectic lately.”

He wants to ask you about it, would be even better if you just opened up about whatever it is that’s happening in your life, but he’s fine with what he got as well. He doesn’t want to be greedy. 

You make some small talk on the way to your place and when the car comes to a stop Harry is already looking forward to seeing you again. 

“Don’t forget about texting me!” he reminds you again, to which you exhale sharply.

“I actually keep my promises, Harry. Goodnight,” you say before hopping out of the car, leaving him too stunned to speak and the car drives away before he could even react. 

It was like a stab in his chest, your words ring in his head all the way until he arrives home and even after that. 

He pushed too hard. He wanted too much. His nagging was supposed to be just a joke, but apparently, he should have been more careful, because your reaction was sharp and painful. But he deserved it, he knows, because what you said… that was a reminder that he fucked up and he can’t just start all over again so quick and easily.

He wants to go back in time and take the words back, everything was going so well up until that point and now it feels like a setback. While in the shower he is composing a text to apologize for overstepping your boundaries and he is just about to type it out when his phone rings, your name on display. 

“Hi!” he answers, shocked to receive a call from you but also thankful that he can apologize.

“Hey.” Your voice is weak, but a lot lighter than it was in the car when you parted ways. “I’m sorry, Harry.”

“No, no, no, you have nothing to be sorry for,” he shakes his head, sitting on the edge of the bed and he wishes he could talk to you in person, see your face.

“It was rude. You’ve been so nice all evening, even asking to reconnect and I was… I was an asshole,” you sigh and he can imagine you closing your eyes and pinching the bridge of your nose.

“I kinda deserved it. It’s been long, Y/N, I shouldn’t have expected to just go back to being best friends. I pushed too hard, so if anyone has to be sorry, it should be me.”

There’s a long pause at your end of the call, Harry is dreading to hear your voice and make sure he didn’t fucked up royally.

“I’ve been kind of… moody lately. I should think about my words before talking.”

“Do you… want to talk about it?” he asks, but then realizes that it might be over the line too. “Only if you want to, you don’t have to share anything with me, I totally understand it.”

“Maybe some other time,” you quietly answer and Harry swallows down his greed to know more. “But… I’m free on Friday,” you add and his heart skips a beat.

“Friday is awesome!” he answers without even thinking through his schedule. If he has anything that day, he’ll surely cancel, nothing can be more important than meeting you again. “We could go out for dinner?”

“Can we… Is it possible not to go out?”

“Yeah,” he nods, though his chest tightens. Does this mean you don’t want to be seen out with him? He wouldn’t blame you, it would put you in the spotlight instantly. “Want to come over? I could cook something.”

“That sounds good. See you on Friday, Harry.”

“Good night, Y/N,” he manages to say before the call ends.

A week has never felt longer. Every waking moment was spent by counting the days until Harry could finally see you again. He planned out the whole evening the day after the reunion, from the meal to the outfit he would wear, he knew it all by Monday rolled around so he had to spend five days anxiously waiting for Friday. 

On Wednesday he has a few drinks with just the boys, Joshua, Beckham and Lucas, cheering on Lucas’ engagement and having some boytalk. Even though they kept in touch throughout the years, there’s still a lot to share. They are having a great time, lots of laughs and jokes are shared over their beer.

“Alright, I want to talk about something major,” Joshua smirks over his pint, his eyes finding Harry and he already knows it’s gonna be about you.

“Just ask it,” Harry chuckles.

“Can we talk about how you had the heart eyes for Y/N all evening at the reunion?”

“Like a lovesick puppy!” Beckham laughs, patting Harry on the back as he puts up with the teasing.

“It was nice seeing her again, what can I say?” Harry shrugs, but he can’t hold his smirk up, which earns another round of laughter from his friends.

“Oh, it was more than just nice, right?” Lucas grins with a knowing smirk.

“We shouldn’t be surprised though, you were so in love with her back then,” Beck scoffs as he leans back in his seat, folding his arms over his chest.

“Not in love, I was just…” Harry tries to explain himself, but fails.

“Just in love,” Lucas teases him.

“I might have had a crush on her, I admit. But it’s been a long time, we obviously changed a lot. It was great to reunite with her.”

“And you plan to reunite some more with her soon?” Joshua wiggles his eyebrows. 

“We’re actually meeting on Friday.”

“You little minx!” Beckham laughs. “Will you shoot your shot?”

“We literally just met again after almost a decade. There’s no shot to shoot.”

“Yeah, and maybe it’s better if you’re careful,” Lucas nods, but Harry doesn’t really understand what he meant by that.

“Careful?”

“Yeah, I mean, after what she went through…”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, you don’t know?” Joshua asks, his gaze flickering between Harry and Lucas.

“What? Tell me what it is!”

“She got a divorce not long ago. Like, about a year ago,” Lucas says, keeping his voice down. 

“Huh? I didn’t even know she was married!”

It feels like a punch in the stomach, how he missed such a major event in your life. Not getting an invitation is one thing, but how did you manage to keep it so secret that he didn’t even know you were engaged?

“She kept it pretty low,” Beckham says. “I mean, the divorce and also the whole relationship.”

“Yeah, I didn’t even know about them until she was engaged,” Joshua shakes his head. 

“And what happened? Why did it end?”

Beckham and Joshua shrug their shoulders, but Lucas seems like he knows something. 

“Lucas? If Bee told you something…”

“I don’t know the whole story, okay? But as far as I know… he cheated on her.”

“Oh fuck,” Harry breathes out, his heart sinking instantly. 

“Pretty rough, yeah. But maybe don’t bring it up until she is ready to share it with you.”

“Yeah, sure,” he nods. 

The night carries on and they talk about anything and everything, but Harry’s mind stays stuck on you. To be more precise, your divorce he knew nothing about. It’s no surprise you are so reserved and moody, it must have been hard for you to go through it. He can only hope you had friends to rely on, Chloe or Bee at last if he wasn’t there for you.

Another thing to add to the list of things he should feel horrible about when it comes to you. 

At the end of the night he offers to share a ride with any of the boys and Beckham accepts, so they leave together. 

“I know it’s eating you away,” Beckham speaks up in the car. 

“Huh?”

“That you didn’t know about her divorce.”

“I wasn’t there for her, Beck. I should have been, but I didn’t even know she was engaged!”

“You weren’t talking, you couldn’t have known.”

“Yeah, but it was my fault we weren’t talking. I should have tried harder and… I should have kept my promise I made to her.”

Silence falls over the car as the passing lights illuminate their faces. Beckham is looking at Harry while Harry is staring straight ahead, his jaw jumping. 

“Look, you’ve made mistakes, it’s fine, totally human. If she is willing to meet you again, I’m sure she is not that mad at you, so it’s a good sign. You… Do you… want to, like… date her?”

Harry presses his lips together, thinking of his answer.

“It’s complicated, but… I think I still have feelings for her,” he admits, finally peeking at his friend. “Is that crazy? I mean, we were kids, can I actually still have… feelings for her?”

“Don’t underestimate your younger self. Look at Lucas. He’s been in love with Bee since forever and now they are getting married.”

Harr hums and nods in agreement, but there’s still a lot he needs to get clear in his head. Whatever it is that he feels for you, he wants to explore it but he also needs to be extremely careful now that he knows what you went through. And what if there’s more to it than the cheating? What if the guy did something else too that left you even more scarred? 

He wants answers, but he needs to be patient and give you time. 

Time, he couldn’t give you before.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[midnight-pluto]

BITTERSWEET — 42!miles morales

TROPES: my poor attempt at angst, minor fluff

UNIVERSE: canon-divergent

PAIRING(S): 42!miles morales x gn!reader

WARNING(S): translated Spanish (please correct me), reader is still learning Spanish, 42!miles is a sad boi, mentions of death, ooc!miles I think?? (I really don’t know, this man got 2 minutes of screen-time)

A/N: is this original? not really. is this self-indulgent? absolutely. 42!miles is in purple 1610!miles is in red. Also sorry if this is all over the place, I was lowkey kinda sick when I wrote this

HOW DID MILES even end up in the spider society’s headquarters? Other Miles.

“Look man, I appreciate you bringing me here, but I really don’t see the point of me being here.”

“Dude, the only people you ever talk that your close to is mom, uncle Aaron, and me,” the tallest rebutted.

Miles was about to retort that those weren’t the only people he was close with but quickly snapped his mouth back shut, bringing back bittersweet memories.

— FLASHBACK

“Miles!” you called out, hurrying up your walking pace into a slight jog, “Thanks for waiting for me.”

“Of course. No podía tener al amor de mi vida aquí solo en estas calles a punto de ser asaltado,” he replied offering his hand which you took, and began walking.

“Wait, did you just call me ‘love of your life?’” you question after finally translating it in your mind, obviously flustered by his sudden declaration.

“You’re getting better, amar,” he compliments placing a chaste kiss to your jaw.

“Hey! Don’t ignore my question!”

Abruptly pausing your walk to your place, he swiftly drags you to the side of the street pulling you closer, “Sí, eres el amor de mi vida. Now, am I the love of your life?” he inquires with a soft whisper, squeezing your hand.

“My love is all for you, amado,” you softly chuckle placing a kiss, squeezing his hand back.

“That’s right, I am your beloved,” he smiled cockily, pulling you closer to him, with his arm around your shoulder instead of holding your hand in his, resuming the walk.

— END OF FLASHBACK

“We’re not close,” he huffed out.

“We’re literally the same person, but you somehow ended up emo and even more of a nerd than I am.”

One look from the other, made Miles immediately shape up again, “Um, anyways! This is the cafeteria, though not a lot of people are here right now since for some reason at exactly 3:33 PM no one’s ever hungry.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah, but in the next 10 minutes or so, this place should be filled,” as if on cue 2 spider-people came swinging in.

“What’s up Miles and new guy!” Pavitr greeted, taking off his mask to show off his perfectly white smile.

‘So bright…’

“Finally, now your the new guy Prowler me.”

“No your still the new guy.”

“Wait why?! We’ve known each other for two months! And I’ve had practically 2 years of experience being Spider-man!” Miles exclaimed, making incoherent gestures with his arms.

“Yeah, but this guy just has the vibes, y’know?” Pavitr explained, making contact with Miles’ shoulder, immediately making said boy stiffen. “Oh, my bad bro,” he apologized, releasing his hand.

Miles just grunted in acknowledgment turning his attention to the other spider-person in the room, who was just standing there awkwardly.

“Uhm, hi?” they said, giving him a shy wave.

Immediately Miles’ half lidded eyes shoot all the way open at the familiar voice that came out of their mouth.

“Mi corazón?”

— FLASHBACK

“Uhm, hi?” those were the exact words you spoke when you first met Miles.

You both had been partnered with each other by default since you both were absent the day the project way assigned. He barely responded to any of your advances of being better acquaintances.

It was hard to tell and pinpoint an exact time when your friendship started, but all Miles knew, is that he wasn’t letting go of your relationship till the day you died. Just as his beloved nickname of yours stated itself.

— END OF FLASHBACK

“Uh… Dude? Are you okay? Because I swear I heard you say, ‘My hea-‘“ Miles was quickly cut off by a hand slapping his mouth shut.

“Shut your goddamn mouth,” he stares into Miles’ eyes before adding a small: “Please,” almost unheard.

‘He said please?!’

Slowly nodding his head, Miles slowly turned towards the other spider-person.

“Oh! Right, this is Y/N! Our latest member of the spider-society,” Pavitr introduced, making Y/N remove their mask.

“Hi, like Pavitr said, I am Y/N. Nice to meet you both,” they gave a polite smile and reached their hand out to greet the two.

“I’m Miles, and this: is also Miles! Another version of me,” the boy in the black and red spider-costume greeted, taking Y/N’s outstretched hand.

“Or you’re another version of me,” the boy in purple grumbled, “You can just call me the Prowler.”

‘He’s avoiding eye contact… Did I do something wrong? Is he just, nervous? He doesn’t strike me as the type to get easily nervous by new people…’ Y/N’s eyes narrow in thought at the newly dubbed ‘Prowler.’

“Well, I’m gonna get lunch before any others get here, see y’all around,” they say before making the braided haired boy too uncomfortable, and walking to the stands.

“Dude, what was that?” Miles questioned.

“What’re you talkin’ bout’ man?”

“‘What am I talkin’ about?’ I’m talkin’ about the way you interacted with Y/N! You were lookin’ everywhere but them.”

“Jus’ drop it man,” he sighed before turning around, “Ima jus go find that bathroom you were talkin’ bout.”

Walking away, his mind drifted back towards you; the you he just met, the spider-you, the alive you. Squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head, he refused to go back down that road.

You were just a bittersweet memory after all.

[tenebraevesper]

Shatter Me, Entry 1: Ambivalent

''Always, you are fearless, like a cat absorbed in what it loves. The reason you feel dazzling is surely because I was looking at you. A circuit of stimulating thought, it draws me in. Blue, blue, I'm still not reflected in those eyes, you are the same as always today. Swaying, swaying, these feelings remain somewhere, now I'm just looking at your profile here.''

– Ambivalent by The Apothecary Diaries

xXxXxXx

Sonic ran across Green Hill, simply taking in and enjoying the lush scenery and the familiarity of his home. Sure, going on adventures, exploring new places and meeting new people was something he absolutely loved to do, but after his experience in the Shatterverse, he wanted to enjoy the comfort of the place he called his home just a little bit longer. Besides, Dr. Eggman had just attacked them once again the other day, so he and his friends needed to deal with that. Fortunately, they beat the mad doctor once again and decided to take a well-deserved break.

However, Sonic felt a little restless. He still hadn't told his friends about the Shatterverse, thanks to Dr. Eggman's attack literally interrupting him just as he started his story, and when things had calmed down, he forgot about it. But now that it was on his mind, he wondered whether he should come clean in regards to accidentally shattering the Paradox Prism, the whole adventure through New Yoke City, Boscage Maze, No Place, The Grim, Ghost Hill and The Void, and how he had managed to fix reality and save the world once again.

''Admittedly, I didn't save it by myself. I had help,'' Sonic said to himself as he ran through Hedgehog's Pass. He still remembered how all of the Shatterverse Variants of his friends and even the Chaos Council united to help him to get to the Paradox Prism, their own homes being slowly destroyed by the rifts in reality. However, there was one person Sonic had to give credit to, as without him, he didn't believe that he would ever make it home. He skidded to a halt, looking around and then leaning against a nearby palm tree. ''Speaking of which, where is Shadow?''

Sonic hadn't seen his rival since the battle at the cave that contained the Paradox Prism. He was genuinely happy to see him, having understood Shadow's plan of using the Chaos Emerald to keep the Paradox Prism safe. However, after the battle was over, Sonic actually wanted to invite Shadow to the picnic on the beach, but he couldn't find him. Admittedly, that wasn't unusual, since Shadow usually kept to himself unless the world was in danger, but Sonic had hoped that he would at least stay around for a little bit longer.

''I wonder where he is,'' Sonic said aloud, talking to himself, then chuckled. ''Maybe he decided to pull a Knuckles and become the Guardian of the Paradox Prism.''

''Who are you talking to?''

Sonic's head snapped towards the origin of the voice, his heart leaping when he saw a familiar figure standing on the elevated bridge-like road of Hedgehog's Pass. Shadow the Hedgehog was staring back at Sonic, his arms folded across his chest, his black and red quills fluttering lightly in the breeze.

''Shadow!''

Sonic suddenly rushed up to Shadow, a wide smile spreading across his lips as he pulled the ebony hedgehog into a tight embrace, nuzzling his cheek. Shadow's crimson eyes widened for a moment, having been caught off guard by Sonic's sudden and unexpected action. However, he didn't step away, just standing awkwardly as he let Sonic hug him and hoping that the azure hedgehog wouldn't hear just how loudly his own heart was beating as it picked up the pace. Finally, Sonic let go of him, instead placing his hands on Shadow's shoulders, still having that wide grin on his expression.

''Dude, where were you? I wanted to invite you to our victory lunch at the beach!'' Sonic asked, stepping back to give Shadow some space.

''I've been busy with finding a proper hiding place for the Paradox Prism, so it wouldn't fall into the wrong hands again,'' Shadow explained.

''Figures,'' Sonic muttered, only to give him a curious look. ''So, where did you leave it? In a cave? A shrine? Oh, I know! In your basement!'' Shadow furrowed a brow, rolling his eyes at all the guesses. Sonic pouted. ''Aw, com'n, at least you could tell me…''

''Have you forgotten that you were the one who shattered it?'' Shadow responded, feeling a sense of satisfaction when he saw Sonic frowning at that reminder.

''Hey, it's not like I'm going to shatter it again-'' he protested, only to shut up when Shadow rose an eyebrow, giving him a non-verbal 'Really?' look. ''You know, I did learn my lesson about listening to others. I promise that me shattering another magical crystal won't happen ever again.''

''I'm not telling you anything,'' Shadow responded in a firm tone. Sonic deflated, giving Shadow a pointed look.

''Right, trust issues.''

Shadow narrowed his eyes, glancing aside as he lowered his gaze. Sonic was a bit surprised by his reaction, tilting his head and clasping his hands on his back as he bowed over to meet Shadow's gaze. The ebony hedgehog seemed to be bothered by something, but as usual, it appeared that he wasn't going to share what was on his mind, choosing to keep it to himself. Sonic faltered, realizing that Shadow wasn't going to respond in the usual manner.

''Hey, you know that I didn't mean to hurt you… Shads?''

Shadow just sighed in response, giving Sonic a rather indifferent look, as if to say that it didn't matter. ''I'm fine.''

''Thanks for saving my life back there. I wouldn't have survived without you.''

Shadow gave Sonic a surprised look, having not expected the azure hedgehog to thank him for saving his life. ''I was simply settling a debt. You have saved me from The Void.''

''Riiiiight, but you gotta admit that would be really boring for you if I wasn't around anymore.'' Sonic smiled cheekily. Shadow narrowed his eyes, staring at him for a moment.

''Hmph, I suppose I wouldn't have you constantly bothering me,'' he replied, feeling a slight sense of amusement when he saw Sonic giving him a displeased look. ''Or cleaning up the mess you create.''

''Yeah, yeah… I get it,'' Sonic replied, although he had to admit that he was glad to hear Shadow bantering with him. ''Hey, how about we go for a race? Maybe have a sparring match? I'm kinda bored.''

''So, you want me to beat you up again?'' Shadow asked in a snarky tone.

''Again? I recall winning our last battle,'' Sonic boasted, not really caring whether his statement was true or not. He was issuing a challenge to Shadow here and he hoped that his rival would accept it.

''Maybe I should remind who the real winner was,'' Shadow said, now taking a step towards Sonic, who felt quite excited.

''Sure,… but you first have to catch me!'' Sonic responded, before quickly dashing down the road. Shadow immediately followed him, taking note of the smile Sonic had flashed at him, followed by a laugh, showing that the azure hedgehog was having a lot of fun.

As for Shadow, while he wouldn't admit it out loud, he did enjoy a good challenge, and chasing Sonic fit the bill. He still had the green Chaos Emerald on his person, making that he could easily warp ahead to get as close as possible to Sonic, but he wanted to test his own limits first before going all out.

Sonic was still ahead of Shadow, but he did notice that the rival was getting closer and closer, so he leapt from the road and onto the soft grass below, deciding to speed between the palm trees to shake Shadow off. Unfortunately for him, his ears picked up the familiar sound of Shadow warping through space and time, having used to the Chaos Emerald to get in front of him, only for Sonic to dodge him, managing to keep the momentum.

''I don't recall agreeing to using the Chaos Emerald, but I guess this makes things even more exciting- Woah!''

Sonic's eyes widened when he glanced back, having to bow to dodge Shadow almost kicking him in the head. He skidded to a halt in a tri-point stance as they entered a clearing, and turned back to his rival, grinning. He dodged another punch from Shadow, then did a sweeping kick, trying to knock the latter of his feet, but Shadow did a backflip, before leaping back at Sonic, trying to punch him in the gut. However, Sonic managed to catch his fist, and attempted to kick Shadow, only for the latter to catch Sonic's leg and swing him around, throwing him towards a nearby palm tree. Sonic felt a painful sensation in his back, but he smirked as he saw Shadow getting closer, getting on his feet and landing a punch in Shadow's gut. Shadow backed away, but a smile spread on his tan lips as he saw Sonic giving him a taunting look, only to quickly speed away.

The chase resumed, with Sonic narrowing his eyes in thought. He knew that Shadow was a difficult opponent, especially with him being a better strategist and more focused on his task. Nevertheless, Sonic was quite creative in battles, trying to think outside the box… and then he realized what he could do. He glanced back at Shadow as he warped closer. ''You gotta do better than that, Shads! You'll never be able to catch up to me otherwise!''

This seemed to have struck a nerve with Shadow, furrowing a brow as he suddenly sped up, but Sonic was actually glad to see Shadow putting more effort into the chase. The azure hedgehog then turned his attention to the mountain above them, the one once hid the Paradox Prism deep within its cave. He wondered if Shadow had also noticed where he led him, but figured that Shadow already knew. Therefore, he had to make sure that Shadow won't realize what Sonic's true plan was.

As for Shadow, he was a bit puzzled when he realized where Sonic was going, but he still followed his rival, as he knew that, even if they get into the cave, Sonic wouldn't be able to escape him. It was a scenario where he could win easily. Once again, Sonic, you're not paying attention. Huh?

A cloud of dust was kicked up when Sonic sped into the cave, with Shadow quickly getting inside, squinting and placing his arm over his eyes to adjust to the sudden lack of vision. ''You have nowhere to go, Sonic! You might as well give up now!''

Suddenly, there was a flash of blue, with Shadow feeling a grip on the arm that held onto the Chaos Emerald, and in the next second, he found himself pinned against the wall of the cave. His gaze turned towards Sonic, who used his elbow to keep Shadow pinned against the wall, while holding the green Chaos Emerald in his other hand, grinning widely.

''I wouldn't think so, Shads. I got you cornered,'' Sonic replied. However, instead of feeling frustrated to have lost to such an easy trick, Shadow just smirked back in response.

''So, you actually are thinking things through this time,'' he replied, with Sonic stepping back. He still kept the Chaos Emerald out of Shadow's reach, throwing it and catching it with one hand, before balancing the tip on his finger.

''I'll take that as a compliment,'' he responded, only too look around the empty cave. ''Man, this place really is something.'' He then fell silent for a moment. ''I wonder how Nine and everyone else are doing…''

The smirk on Shadow's expression vanished, and his gaze fell. It was clear to him that, even if Sonic had moved on to his next adventure, he still thought back to what had happened within the Shatterverse. It was no surprise though, as those events were still fresh on his mind, and given how he had to leave in a hurry, he never got the chance to make sure that all of his Shatterverse friends would be fine. It was no surprise that he would still be worried about them.

Unfortunately, Shadow couldn't share the sentiment, as he had his own thoughts of what happened to the Shatterverse and the Shatterverse Variants, but he still could understand how Sonic felt. These were the people he bonded and fought with to restore their homes, and he would never see them again.

''Do you want to take a break?''

Sonic was surprised to hear this suggestion from Shadow, but then nodded in agreement. Both walked outside the cave and sat side by side on the cliff outside, observing Green Hill below them.

''You know, even though visiting the Shatterverse was an interesting experience, nothing beats being at home surrounded by your friends… at least until the next adventure,'' Sonic said. Shadow just raised an eyebrow, glancing at Sonic.

''So, you're claiming that destroying our universe and sacrificing your life to restore it is an 'interesting experience'?'' Shadow asked in a deadpan tone, with Sonic giving him a sheepish smile. ''Of course you do. I suppose I forgot to whom I was talking to for a moment.''

Sonic just chuckled in response. ''Nice joke, Shads!''

''That wasn't a joke. That's literally what had happened,'' Shadow replied in the same deadpan tone. Sonic just kept smiling, with Shadow taking note that, even if their Shatterverse adventure wasn't anything to smile about, he still understood why Sonic saw it as something he had thought about fondly. Nevertheless, it didn't make him feel less puzzled. Just when he thought that he understood Sonic, the hedgehog found new ways to surprise him.

''Yeah, that's true… and I'm glad that you could tag along for the adventure,'' Sonic replied, his tone still light, but also a bit more thoughtful. ''I guess I really needed you back there to…''

''I needed you too.''

Sonic trailed off, his ears flicking and his heart skipping a beat when he heard Shadow's response, his green eyes darting towards the dark hedgehog. Shadow was just staring ahead at the lush greenery below and the blue sky above them, showing no reaction to what he had just said. Sonic could feel his heart beat loudly in his chest, but chalked it up to the residual adrenaline from their fight. A sly grin spreading a cross his lips, he scooted closer to Shadow, almost leaning against him.

''So, when did you finally decide to admit that you need me?'' he asked. Shadow didn't dignify this question with a response, trying to ignore it. His expression did change in a subtle manner, and it was obvious that he was already regretting telling Sonic that, because the azure hedgehog now refused to stop pestering his rival about it until he got a reaction from him. ''Com'n, Shads, you can talk to me about it. I promise I won't tell anyone.''

''You won't leave me alone until you get the answer you want, will you?'' Shadow asked, arms folded across his chest in the typical fashion. To his grief, he was met by an eager look bordering on puppy-dog eyes from Sonic. Shadow then sighed, well aware that he could just stop this conversation then and there, but for some reason, he didn't want to leave. Despite his reservations, he actually felt comfortable in Sonic's presence. ''I thought that it was obvious.''

''Obvious?'' Sonic blinked in surprise.

''You were the key to restoring the Paradox Prism. Obviously, I'd have to rely on you to save our home,'' Shadow replied. Sonic let out an amused huff, aware that it wouldn't be so easy to get Shadow to admit anything in a direct manner. Shadow then fell silent for a moment, his eyes narrowing as he clearly thought about something important. He then turned to Sonic, giving him a resolute look. ''One thing is certain. I won't let you tease me anymore about my friendless background or lack of trust in people.''

Sonic was genuinely surprised by this sudden response, wondering what was going through Shadow's head. He then smiled joyfully as he realized the implications. ''Wait, so you actually started to trust someone? That's great! Who is it? Do I know them?''

''It's you.''

Sonic felt a strange sense of warmth spreading through his chest, a sense of happiness and pride bubbling inside him, but there was also something else, something he couldn't quite understand. He wanted to respond, but for once, the words couldn't escape his mouth. He didn't even know how to respond to this confession.

Shadow, in turn, felt weird for admitting this secret to Sonic. Over the course of their adventure, he found himself drawn closer and closer to his rival, having found himself becoming very protective of Sonic, especially after finding out about Nine's scheme and the fate that awaited him if he relinquished the Prism Energy. Any anger the had initially felt after being warped into The Void had completely vanished, and instead was replaced by a strong desire to not only save the universe, but to make sure that Sonic would return back home in one piece. Despite his immature and careless behavior, he had learned, or rather, re-learned, that Sonic was someone he could rely on no matter how dire the situation was. Therefore, Shadow decided to affirm this trust to Sonic, even if it left him with a strange warm sensation that made him wonder if was getting sick or something. But, he was the Ultimate Lifeform; he couldn't get sick now, could he?

''I heart you too, Shadow.''

Shadow's attention snapped back to Sonic, who finally decided to respond with a wide smile and a heart shape he formed with his fingers. It wasn't the first time he heard this response, having heard it during their banter in the middle of a battle against the Chaos Council, but unlike last time, where he just let it pass, he felt that he could no longer ignore it this time. Well, at least he could try to pretend to ignore it for the time being until he fully understood why he suddenly felt like this.

''Hmph.''

Sonic gave Shadow a curious look when the dark hedgehog suddenly turned away from him, wondering if he had said something wrong. Fearing that he somehow offended his rival, he decided to drop the topic for now. ''Hey, do you want to go for a sea dog? I had figured out the recipe from when I was with Captain Dread's crew and I can guarantee that it is 100% the most delicious thing you'll ever try.''

''I guess that's fine,'' Shadow replied, turning his attention back to Sonic only to catch the green Chaos Emerald that was thrown into his lap.

''Great! I'll meet you at the beach for a picnic, since you couldn't be there the first time!'' Sonic replied, waving at him before rushing down the mountain.

Once Sonic was gone, Shadow let out a deep breath, pressing his hand against his forehead, sincerely hoping that Sonic did not notice the initial shade of red that had spread across his tan muzzle, as well as trying to calm down his rapidly-beating heart.

''Why… Why do I feel like this?''

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[disasterinbound]

cat prince souyo hehehe... save me cat prince souyo..

maybe yosuke saves a cat from being run over on his way to work, and a new person shows up in town. those two events are definitely not in any way related.

yu is the cat prince who comes to inaba to experience what life is like to humans and how to blend in. dojima and nanako are cat royalty as well so he gets sent to live with them for a bit. yes they can turn into cats.

yosuke saves cat!yu from being run over by a car or something. the next night after, theres a knock at yosuke's door, and yu shows up, thanks yosuke for saving his life and tells him that he wants to show his appreciation.

yosuke is of course really confused, and he's like what?? so yu goes into his cat form and stands up on his hind legs. yosuke is starting to think that this is a dream and he really should start saying no to taking those extra shifts if this is the dream he's gonna get

also yosuke being yosuke is like "nah man s ok it was nothin" and yu is like "no, no, i insist" before he leapts off and yosuke's left wondering why he's dreaming of a hot guy turning into a cat

like a day later a basket of fish appears in his kitchen and he's like ??? where did this come from until he remembers what happened. he then starts going FUCK ok ok first of all the fish. i need to give it back to him because i don't like fish. then he hops on his bike and realises FUCK where does he live. so he keeps it in the freezer for the time being until he can figure out what to do

yu then shows up at JUNES going did you like the fish :3 and yosuke is like "im so sorry dude but i actually don't like fish..." but yu looks so crestfallen like a cute cat who's sad and yosuke is about to pat him on the back until he perks back up and goes "wait for tomorrow :3" and speeds off as yosuke realises that he never asked where yu lived so he can give back the fish

cue the next few days becoming extreme tomfoolery when yu gives him gifts that cats like because he doesn't get how humans work yet and he didn't ask nanako and dojima, cats who have been more accustomed to humans and their behaviour for help. smart move bancho.

until yosuke's had enough and just tells yu that he really doesn't like the gifts but yu just looks so sad like a wet cat that yosuke goes what if you took me out to eat or hang out because he's been affected by yu's charms.

after that surprisingly fun date outing, yosuke thinks that's the end of it, until yu shows up the day after like "hi lets go out :3"

and then??? he just shows up everytime??? and they both have fun together??? and then yosuke begins to fall for bancho (and vice versa) as they both get to know each other more??? (i mean, you do seem pretty good with your hands) astounding, brain. bravo. maybe yu tells yosuke more about the cat kingdom and how he doesn't know that much about humans

one day, yu decides to confess via courtship, and starts becoming really touchy with yosuke. like in his cat form he rubs up against yosuke more, and in his human form, he purrs a lot around him and links their hands together. And yosuke's like ??? (flushed) but he's not saying no because maybe its just a normal thing in the cat kingdom. definitely not cuz he likes yu or anything.

but yu thinks yosuke is giving out a lotta mixed signals to his courting, like shying away sometimes (he's embarrassed because they were in public) or accepting it but not leaning into it, so he goes to dojima for advice.

dojima: did you ever tell him you're courting him. he probably doesn't know what you're doing.

yu: ...oops :3

and off he goes to fix off his mistake! dojima sets him a few things straight and awkwardly tells him about dating and stuff before he goes to meet yosuke on the riverbank.

funnily enough that's also when yosuke decides to confess to yu, so when yosuke goes "I like you!" all blushing and after yu also reciprocates he's like "is this a good time to mention that I've been courting you"

yosuke: you've been WHAT

yu: :3

and so they became official boyfriends!! (and maybe cat husband kings but thats for later)

yosuke gets to tease yu about it for a week until yu kisses him til he's dazed and yosuke promptly falls into a trash can.

[pianocat939]

blurb request(I think they're still open) touch starved Mc with yan 2012 tmnt. Like, MC wasn't really held or hugged as a kid, so they don't know how to react to cuddles and such, but they really want to be held. I don't know if I said this in an understandable way, so I'm sorry. Have a great day/night

This is my first 2012 content I think other than the headcanons- I put it off bcs I’m not used to writing them as I am with rise so like- you know, having to go back to the headcanons to check over some things. (Consistency is pretty important to me)

Tw: Donnie is a bit obsessive in perhaps a creepy way-, Mikey is clingy af, brief mentioning of kidnapping but doesn't actually occur

Mom but make it Boomer:

He's willing to hug and cuddle, but it's not necessarily his favourite way of showing affection. But the closer you are the more willing he is. Just ask and he'll be like "c'mere" while his eyes are glued to the TV- If he sees you standing there awkwardly (because you're nervous to ask him) he'll pat the spot beside him.

Raging little hamster:

Bro acts like he doesn't really like it but secretly he does. He just doesn't want to show himself being all vulnerable and soft- unless if he's actually confessed his feelings or kidnapped you. If you ask him he'll kind of begrudgingly give you it but in the inside he's jumping around in joy. In other words, he's always willing, just doesn't show it.

Damn No Bitches:

Here's my opinion: he's extremely willing as long as he isn't super focused on something (like his experiments) but when you do hug or cuddle him, he'll be kinda creepy about it. His obsessive traits leak through and he can't help but quietly mumble a few things to himself. (Most of the time it's like "wow, I'm finally so close to you").

Miami People Getting Thrown:

Literally, this dude is already so clingy you won't even have to ask because he will already be clinging to you- It's his favourite pastime. In fact, I say you might even get overwhelmed by how he bombards you with physical affection after having none for so long. You'll probably have to push him off gently for a break- if you can get him off that is.

[bejeweledblondie]

That’s How You Get the Girl

Keegan x F! Reader

Summary: Keegan & Y/N are set up on a blind date by a mutual friend, & Keegan being Keegan doesn’t really reply fully much to the confusion of Y/N

Warnings: none

Keegan wiped his palms on his freshly pressed slacks. He was sweating like a sinner in church. He hated this. Blind dating. Most of the men on his team were either engaged, married, or seeing someone. He didn’t do well with women, he may have been a Marine but he didn’t automatically gain that Marine confidence with women. He never knew how to talk to them, or he’d accidentally over share. Alex was fed up with seeing him off on his own every weekend when they had the opportunity to go out. Coincidentally, Alex had a friend from off post that was having horrendous dating experiences. So being the mastermind he is, he decided to set them up on a blind date. So here he sat awkwardly at a table set for two. Every time the door opened he looked up, he had absolutely no idea what she even looked like.

He noticed a gorgeous woman walk in. She was absolutely drop dead gorgeous. A wine velvet dress fitted up against her form & her hair was down in a blow out. She walked up to the hostess stand & the hostess pointed to Keegan’s table. He was sitting like a deer in headlines watching her walk towards him. He stood up as soon as reached the table. Keegan was just so taken aback, Alex did not tell him she was absolutely drop dead gorgeous.

“You must be Keegan.” She said & held out her hand. “I’m Y/N.” He took her hand & shook it. Still speechless he pulled out her chair for her. “Oh thank you.” She said & sat down. He pushed in her chair & went around the table back to his seat. The waiter approached the table & took their drink orders.

“So Keegan.” Y/N started. “How long have you known Alex?” She asked trying to get to know the mysterious handsome man in front of her. The waiter came back & placed a glass of Pinot in from of Y/N & a beer in front of Keegan.

“A long time.” He replied. She stared at him hoping he’d try to continue the conversation with a question about her. He looked away for a second & Y/N tried to draw his attention again. He was have a full blown anxiety attack inside.

“So do you like your job? I know Alex was telling me you’re quite good at.” She started again & took a sip of her wine.

“I like it.” Keegan replied wiping his hands again on his trousers. She took noticed of his weird body language & had a small frown on her face.

“Are you alright?” She asked out of deep concern.

“M’fine.” He replied. “Would you excuse me for a moment?” He got up abruptly & went into the men’s bathroom, leaving her at the table in shock. She sat there mouth agape as the man practically ran away from her. A pang of disappointment rushed through her body like electricity. By the way Alex described him on the phone he seemed like a charming man. Then when she saw him & saw how handsome he was she thought she hit the jackpot.

In the bathroom Keegan was attempting to calm himself down. He was staring at his reflection in the mirror breathing heavily in a attempt to relax. He went into his pocket & started to fumble with his phone. Once he found Alex’s contact he dialed him. An confused & annoyed Alex answered the phone.

“Hello?” Alex asked.

“Why didn’t you tell me she was that fucking pretty dude? A little heads up would’ve been nice.” Keegan said exasperated. “You know how horrible I do with women.” Alex chuckled at this.

“You wouldn’t have come if I told you.” Alex replied. “Just relax man, believe me when I say Y/N is a patient gal. Just get to know her. Now I’m going to go & enjoy your date.” Alex said & hung up. Keegan was able to relax himself enough to leave the men’s room. Y/N still sat the table, looking somber. She had her chin in her hand looking around. He took a deep breath & started to walk towards the table. Y/N locked eyes with him & gave him a small smile. Alex was right about the patient part. Most women would’ve gotten up & left. Once he reached the table he sat down in his chair.

“Are you okay now?” She asked with genuine concern in her voice. “You know if your anxious we can get the bill for the drinks & just get some take out.” She suggested. Keegan had never experienced this before & simply nodded. After Y/N flagging down the waiter & Keegan paying the bill they left. They then met up at Keegan’s off post apartment.

Y/N placed an order for pizza delivery & they sat on the couch. She could tell by his body language he was more relaxed. His collar shirt was unbuttoned a bit & she could see his chest hair peaking out. She bit her lip as was checking him out while he put something on the tv for background noise.

“Keegan,” She started. “Did Alex by chance tell you what I do for a living?” She asked.

“Uh no.” He replied wondering what her career had to do with him.

“I work with children that have anxiety.” She replied looking at him. “Keegan, do I make you anxious?”

“Yeah.” He replied a little embarrassed a warm feeling his cheeks began to rise & he looked down. She gently lifted his chin with her finger so he was looking eye to eye with her.

“Keegan, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Imma be honest with you I was anxious too. My past dates haven’t been great.” She honestly admitted. “But I know you’re probably a great guy, judging by what Alex has told me about you.” The blush on his cheeks grew intense at her compliment. “I’m a patient girl, I’m not going anywhere.” His eyes bore into hers & suddenly there was a warm sensation in his stomach. It felt euphoric. She put his hands on her waist & he pulled her in closer her chest touched his.

“You’re really beautiful,” Keegan said. “I just don’t do well around women.” He admitted. “I just never know what to say.” She smiled him at started to play with the hair behind his ear.

“Then don’t say anything.” She said & pulled him in for a kiss. He pushed her down gently onto the sofa they sitting on. She wrapped her arms around his neck deepening the kiss. The door bell rang, & the pair broke apart. “Looks like the pizza’s here.” She giggled, & they both sat up. She sprang up to tip the delivery driver & retrieve the pizza. Keegan touched his lips & smiled to himself. He had to remind himself thank Alex the next time he saw him.

[parvulous-writings]

Hey! I saw that Bill and Ted were on the list that you write for, and I was wondering if you could do a Bill x Ted x gn!reader where y/n is autistic and they have a shutdown where they go nonverbal and everything feels uncomfortable (touch/sound/etc). Which in turn causes them to feel worse because now y/n feels like they're being a burden to their partners, but Bill and Ted will not let them believe that /Can be mostly fluff with a small bit of angst //you don't have to include this, but I do hc both Bill and Ted as neurodivergent, so if you want to input that you can 🌟

///This request does kinda stem from personal experiences, and I just needed some fictional comfort 😭

////Stay hydrated and I hope you have a wonderful rest of your day/evening! 😊

Summary: Bill and Ted try to help you as much as they can whilst you have a shutdown

Warnings: Description of autistic shutdown, descriptions of overwhelming spaces. There's nothing too graphic or anything, though! Gender-neutral use of dude, that's just how they talk 0-0

Words:

Notes: I am so SO sorry this took so long - I was just determined to pour my heart and soul into this, as it struck me very deeply! I hope I can do this justice! Also trying out a slightly new format which is strange to me 0-0  My requests are currently open! My pinned post (found here) contains both a list of characters I write for, and a masterlist!  Original character list - please request for these too!

not my gif

Somehow, the pair of music-loving young men had managed to convince you to go with them to a local concert. How they had coaxed you into it, you weren't entirely sure - their voices had overlapped so much and so many times that you weren't quite sure who was speaking when. "Listen, it's all going to be okay! I mean, it'll be loud, but you'll be with us, we'll cover your ears if you need it!" The shorter of the two, Bill, assured you. He was already clearly ecstatic, practically bouncing as he shifted his weight back and forth on his feet. You hadn't even given a response yet, and he was already over the moon. "Yeah, you'll be with us!" Ted echoed, a huge, almost goofy smile on his face. Though the taller of the two seemed much slower in his movements, there was no doubt that he was just as excited as his best friend.

You had tried to explain that that wasn't always how it worked with your sensitivity, but no matter what you said, they always seemed to have an answer or a solution to every potential problem you presented them with. They were just so stoked at the idea you might join them to this concert - the event they had been waiting for months upon months to go to. The one thing that they had begged their parents to attend; that Bill had easily managed to cajole Missy to let him go to, and that Ted had somehow managed to convince his father that it wasn't anything nefarious, that he would be safe. They had already begun packing for you before you had a chance to properly consider - they were very sweet about it all, but your voice was very quiet compared to their overlapping chatter.

Three bags - backpacks - was what they ended up packing. "I think that should be enough..." Bill said to Ted, as the taller of the two was bringing more water into the garage from the house. "Are you sure?" Ted asked, "What if we run out of water? Don't want to ruin our throats, dude..." "I'm sure there'll be some there! Missy'll give us a bit of money, too..." Bill replied, starting to do up the backpacks, making sure everything was packed properly - maximising space whilst also ensuring that everything was at least somewhat secure, particularly the bottles of water. It simply wouldn't have done to have one of them burst in the bag, and soak one of your backs, especially when you were all going to be standing for so long. You stood there, awkwardly as the two friends rushed back and forth, making sure that everything was as they had planned. "Hey," Ted's voice broke you from a thoughtless daze. You blink a few times, and turn your gaze to him. "You okay?" He asks, his brows furrowed with boyish concern - he wasn't sure what was going through your head, but the worry was genuine, that much was clear to see.

You consider his question for a moment, before settling on your answer: "I'm... not sure...?" Ted is clearly puzzled by this response, so you fumble your way through a half explanation. "Well... I do want to go with you guys-" "You are coming with us!" Ted interjects, quite gleefully. "What I mean is, I... I'm really anxious about it- I've never done something like this before, I've never... been comfortable, with this kind of thing..." "Well..." Ted starts, trailing off for a moment. He must be trying to make some connections in his head. "Well, you'll be with us... " He repeats the mantra like statement that he and Bill had adopted since they broke the news to you that morning. "So, that'll help, right?" He asks - you had never been entirely open with the two about how some things would affect you in a drastically different way to what it affected them. Crowds overwhelmed you, excessive noise debilitated you and made you ever so irritated you, and change... Well, you had never let anyone but your family see the results and ramifications change had on you, but needless to say, it was unpleasant. Ted's quasi-reassurance came from a good place in his heart, but you weren't as sure that their presence alone would calm or aid you. You stay quiet for a moment, considering your options. Yes, you could refuse, and save yourself the potential overwhelming environment, but disappoint your friends... OR, you could risk it, make them possibly the happiest you've seen them in a long time, and it could all be okay. There was no way of telling. You sigh quietly, then offer Ted a tiny smile. "Yeah, I guess that could help...."

Before you had even entered the venue, there were hundreds of people, all swarmed together, bustling little bubbles of activity that you would rather avoid. Both Bill and Ted were in their element already, eyes widened with wonder and anticipation. This was what their whole lives had led up to so far. This moment - seeing a band in the flesh, and their excitement was starting to bubble up, with the evening barely started. You grab Bill's arm with both hands, pulling yourself close to him. He glances at you, and is about to say something - his mouth half open as the words begin to form - before he is interrupted by a cheer from one of the groups ahead of you, as the doors to the venue are finally opened.

Bill and Ted quicken their pace - they so badly want to get in there, find a good spot for you all. So eager are they, that they drag you head on into the flowing crowd. Bodies are pressed against bodies, all moving as one, never stopping. You're being pushed by people behind you, pulled by Bill, and by Ted. Your feet can hardly keep up - the minimal room to move not helping you at all. You stumbled along, with no choice in the matter. You feel your chest tighten - the night had only just set into motion, and already, it was starting to get to you. You tried to call out, to get the attention of one of your friends, but naturally your voice is lost in the sea of the rest. You try tugging at Bill's sleeve, and then Ted's - but because so many others had done the same in the last few minutes, that they didn't take any notice whatsoever. They keep pushing forward, dragging you with them despite your reluctance. It was all too much. You had no way to tell them, but it was too much.

You can feel your eyes start to almost glaze over as your voice dies in your throat. You can still see everything, but it felt... Far away, now. All of the noises that surrounded you blur and fade, becoming one distant and droning hum. You're rooted to the spot, though you're still somewhat aware of the fact that people are still knocking into your arms, shoving past you to make their way into the venue. It was a few minutes later, when Ted went to turn to you to say something about how totally amazing this was going to be, that they knew you had gone. Ted grabbed Bill's arm, shaking it violently to make sure he got his attention. Bill turned, brows furrowed, almost in annoyance as he pulled his arm away from his friend's grasp. "Dude, what-" "Listen - our trio's turned to two!" Ted exclaimed over the noise, grabbing Bill's wrist again. He dragged the curly haired teen back through the crowd, Bill struggling at almost every step. There was a flurry of questions from him: "What the hell do you mean, dude?" and "Why are we going back to the doors? We're going to miss it!" were the only ones that Ted managed to make out. He knew, that if Bill had realised you weren't with them, he'd be just as concerned as he was. Ted cranes his neck, scanning over the top of the crowd, looking for you. It's not as simple as it sounds: there are at least ten other people who he initially thought were you, but quickly came to realise they were not.

It took a few minutes, but eventually, they did find you. And, immediately, they knew something was wrong - of course, they didn't know exactly what, but, concert or no, they knew they had to help. "Let's try getting outside." Bill suggested to Ted, despite his earlier protestations that they would miss the show. When faced with the decision of your well-being and comfort, or a live show, it was a no-brainer. Carefully, trying not to startle you, they took your arms. You were almost like a ragdoll in their hands as they started to move to the back of the crowd, but suddenly you're pulling against them, resisting, trying to wrestle your arms from their hands. You'd snapped back to reality, feeling every sensation there was to feel; the overwhelming noise, the heat of so many bodies packed closely together, the tight grip of Bill and of Ted. You wanted none of it. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you struggle, and soon enough, Ted let's go, motioning for Bill to do the same. You draw in on yourself, holding your hands to your ears and looking down at the floor, trying your best to minimise the amount of stimuli your brain was taking in. It worked, to some extent. You feel a quick, but firm, tap on your shoulder - someone trying to get your attention. Your eyes dart up, mostly out of habit, to see Ted waving at you, his smile nervous and unsure. He beckons to you, silently calling you forward, and you shuffle slightly in compliance. It's difficult to move, but you register that both Bill and Ted are trying to help you get out of this situation.

Eventually, you're all outside, and Bill is trying to guide you to sit on the floor so you can rest for a moment, which proves extraordinarily difficult to him when he realises he can't touch you more than a tap. You both manage it though, and Bill and Ted sit either side of you, like they do ordinarily. You all stay quiet for a while - both of them expecting you to speak first, to say that everything is okay, that you're fine. But you don't. You just sit there, tears rolling down your face. Ted leans forward, waving a little to get your attention again, "You okay?" He asks, his voice quiet, unsure. You just turn your head towards him, unable to answer. You wanted to - oh how you wished to be able to! But... At the same time, speaking felt like it would be too much now. Ted didn't really know how to take your silence. Was it good? Bad? His eyes flitted to Bill, who instantly made eye contact; clearly they were thinking along the same line. There's a moment of tension, where the two boys seem to be mentally battling to see who should speak first. Bill eventually opens his mouth. "We're sorry..." He begins, "We.. We should have listened to you, about the concert and..." He trails off with a light sigh - not at you, but at himself. At Ted. They should have listened to you - should have arranged to do something else. You hear something rustle from beside you, and as you turn you see Ted offering you one of the bottles of water he and Bill had packed. "Drink, dude..." The dark haired boy urged. He knew you needed something, and that you may be in a state, but they both still want to take care of you, even if they were the main cause of the problem in the first place. Their hearts were in the right place, and now they wished to try and make up for their mistake. Bill wished that he had thought of your perspective a bit more, and sooner. He had been so wrapped up in his desire - which had practically become a need - to see this concert, that his mind could barely focus on anything else. His chest ached with the guilt of what he had brought on to you; he knew all too well what the overwhelm could feel like, and so did Ted. But their focus on the concert had thrown all other considerations out of the window, for both of them.

You shakily take the bottle from Ted, to find it already undone. You glance in thanks to him -unable to smile- before bringing the bottle to your mouth and taking the smallest of sips. It was all you could muster for the time being. "I have an idea!" Bill announced, a tad too loud for your liking, making you flinch. Bill notices, and winces too, giving you an apologetic look. "I was thinking..." His voice is softer now, more like a whisper. "We take you back to yours..." He points at you, "So that you can rest up... Y'know, sort yourself out and everything... We can stay if you want to, but-" He pauses, realising he's getting carried away with himself and starting to ramble. "And then..." He continues, back on his original train of thought. "When you're ready... You can come over to my place, and we can jam out." He gives you that trademark goofy little smile, all teeth and just reaching his eyes. There's a question teetering in your mind, bouncing around; one you can't yet voice. Ted, somehow manages to read your mind at that very moment; "Jam? You mean, we'll be using the guitars?" He considers for a moment, "I don't know... Your dad said he doesn't want to hear any bad playing anymore... and I'm not tryin' to say anything about your playing-" Ted turns to you, totally sincere, "But I don't think it's... Eddie Van Halen level yet, dude..." "Well, it can be with or without the guitars." Bill responds, "I mean, we've got the guitars to get to Van Halen's level." He shrugs, "And who cares what my dad says? It's not like he's there most of the time."

Ted considers his friend's words for a moment, his brows furrowed as if he had been posed with a very serious philosophical question, lips pursed in thought to complete the look. After a few seconds of this, Ted nods enthusiastically, seemingly satisfied with this answer, his grin returning. "It's settled then!" Bill announces with a grin just as wide as Ted's, and with the gusto of the old shining knights of yore. "We take our good fellow here," He gestures to you broadly with his hand, "Back to their dwelling for the eve. And then!" He points dramatically to the sky with one finger. "We shall wait to the morn... To jam!" You giggle quietly, and Bill's joyous face turns back to you, all teeth and smiles still. Ted's face lights up too, and the two boys meet eyes before doing their natural greeting to one another - an epic air guitar gesture that had become customary for them after so many years of being friends. It's not long after that, that the three of you are walking down the path to your home - taking up the entire pavement as you stand with all your shoulders practically touching, though the pair were careful to make sure that they didn't accidentally brush against you on the way back - they didn't want to upset you again. Bill actually nearly ended up falling into the road a couple of times because of this mindset, so ended up switching places with Ted. Then the same thing happened to him! The pair were laughing merrily at one another as they walked you down your drive. "I'll come see you at lunchtime tomorrow..." Bill says to you as you step onto your porch. "And then we can go pick up Ted on the way to mine, if you want to jam... If not, we could all hang out at your place, if you wanted?" Bill offered, and you nod slowly, "But you can tell us tomorrow, if you want, or later - if you can call?" Bill rambles a little, grinning at you. Though he still feels a bit guilty about the fact that his actions had upset you, he knew that you would all be able to work through it eventually; your reaction, to him and Ted at least, was perfectly natural. They may have had similar ones had they been put in a situation they had deemed unsuitable for themselves - Ted had certainly lashed out in the past because of the very same thing.

"But yeah, lunchtime tomorrow-" Bill repeats, "Don't forget!" He tells you, as if you ever would. With that, Bill and Ted scurry off into the evening air- the memory of the concert left behind and forgotten in favour of the plans the pair had started to make, in preparation for the next time the three of you got to spend time together, whether that be tomorrow, or even days in the future.

[aromanticautiesworld]

If you write poly, can you do poly finntress? Also I'm curious will moth experience bi panic via finntress?

oh yes absolutely i write poly please send me poly requests! not 2 ramble about mushrooms but this first part (there will be multiple parts) kinda takes place middle of season 5-ish (sorry flame princess was with finn earlier in the timeline so mushrooms isn’t right after their breakup) there wont be any bi panic from moth abt fintress BUT! definitely in later parts (i love huntress wizard so much). ANYWAYS request time !

////

poly fintress with a gender neutral reader

word count: 1098

You squirm your way through the underbrush of the forest, following the path of the boy with the bear hat.

You were more introverted and withdrawn around other people than Finn, so he would sometimes take you with him (often very much like this) to meet new cool people he knew. Not that you object to any of this, most of the people Finn knows are cool with you too—as long as they’re not some sort of shapeshifting monster or illusion trick. That’s also happened before, unfortunately. While terrifying in the moment, you two look back and laugh about it. But still, never again.

So here you are now, legs halfway dipped into a creek, its weak current tugging at your clothes (which you regret wearing. Why couldn’t you have worn your waterproof pants today. Or at LEAST shorts).

“This is the spot where we usually meets. Me and yous just gotta wait,”

“And you’re a hundred percent sure she’s not a demon? Or a cursed witch?”

“Yeah I am dude. Hero’s honor,”

You consider. “Arrite,” You punch him in the shoulder, “I’m trusting you on this one,”

You both hear a rustle of branches and leaves coming from the opposite side of the river, and who you think is some sort of cat-person at first, based on the eyes that appear out of the darkness, effortlessly pushes her way out of the woods.

“What’s up, dudes,” She puts her bow back in its sheath, a bow that seems to have been drawn ready to fire a few seconds ago. You’re a little concerned about that, but if anything it makes you want to get to know this stranger more (also the name ‘Huntress Wizard’ could’ve spelled it out for you, but you didn’t think she’d be hunting right then).

“Meh, nuthin’ much. You said you wanted someone who can sing for this spell, right?” He gestures over to you, “They can sing,”

“Hey,” You pipe up awkwardly from where you stand, both still sort-of behind Finn and halfway in the water. Small fish swim past your legs.

“Hey,” She makes her way over to you, now also halfway in the river and half soaked, seemingly inspecting you, “Yeah. Yeah, you’re what we’ve been looking for,”

Ah. Pretty. Girl. Close to you. You are, at this moment, very normal and very functional. Both of those things.

“Thanks? Um. I mean I’m..I’m down to help with anything you guys need,” Glob, you feel like a student trying to talk to the ‘cool kids’ in one of those old teen movies right now. What is happening…

“Thanks dude! Love it when my friends are friends,” Finn grins, missing teeth only adding to his charm.

You now found yourself singing for a spell to bring forth some ancient magical plant. You wouldn’t say you didn’t care about that, it was a very cool thing, but your mind was occupied by…other topics.

The two taller people in front of you play their flutes, somehow in tune with your voice. Magic spreads in the air, emanating from both their playing and you, along with a feeling similar to when the air pressure drops before a storm begins (but with a more comforting feeling than that of impending doom).

…

Wait, no. That was actually the air pressure dropping.

The sky flashes with lightning, breaking open and letting loose a torrent of rain.

“Shelter! Quick!” Huntress yells out.

You start to follow her, when you’re quickly brought off of your feet and out of the now-muddy ground, scooped up by Finn. The water that’s suddenly pouring down on the three of you in the clearing and the flashes accompanied by thunderclaps do nothing to snap you out of your shocked and flustered state, and your face burns.

You’re eventually put down, now in the safety of a nearby cave, and are still recovering.

“Sorry about that, haha…” Finn chuckles nervously, “I might have panicked a little,”

You say nothing for a second, still stunned, before zoning back in.

“No, I would’ve done the same thing…at least, I would if I was as strong as you are,”

Finn ruffles through his backpack, while Huntress casts a spell under her breath to light a pile of twigs you guys’d found ablaze.

Finn then dumps out the contents of his backpack (a copy of Ble, an old sandwich, an uncursed dagger, the head of a mini cyclops, an energy bar, miscellaneous pens, and many other items now strewn across the floor.

“Guys. I don’t have my emergency sleeping bags,”

You both look up, Huntress now finished starting the fire.

“Looks like we have to huddle. We can use my cape as a sleeping bag for now,”

“Well…wait. Who’s gonna be where?”

“What’chya mean?” Finn asks from where he gathers the contents of his bag back to where they came from.

“I mean who’s gonna be on the edge, who’s being in the middle…”

“Hmmm…It’s just for one night, so…What do you think, Huntress?”

“I think you should be in the middle,” She turns towards you as she talks.

Your brain is flooded with both giddy excitement, and slight embarrassment.

“Yeah, I’m good with that. What do you think?”

“Yes. Yes. Good. Cool. Very good,” You nod quickly, shooting them a thumbs up. Words aren’t working too great for you right now, it seems.

Huntress takes off her cape, her hair (leaves?) are very pretty, spreads it out—this thing is big—onto the floor of the cave, and rolls herself up into one side of it. Finn then drops down his bag (he’s managed to put everything back) And rolls into the cape on the other side. Your turn.

You snuggle in between the two, heart practically beating out of your chest, and unbeknownst to the two surrounding you, a large grin on your face.

You were the first to fall asleep, of course, and both Finn and Huntress reflected on today.

You’re cool. A cool person to add to their weird little relationship-hangout thing they have going on. Based on what Huntress has seen today (that you’d tried to hide, to no avail. You were way more obvious about your crush on her than Finn was), and on what Finn knows about you, you wouldn’t object if they asked. If you did they would back off of course, but he knows that’s not the case.

Drip, Drip, Drip…

Honestly, it was very peaceful in this cave. The sound of rain outside, your steady breathing, the warmth you all shared.

You guys should do this every night.

[credince--writes]

Whispers

Whispers can be heard, calling from the sand.

AO3

Cots sucked.

They really, truly blew.

Blew hard.

She groaned, sitting up on the shitty little cot she'd made her resting place for the last few days. There were whispers she had caught hold of, like butterflies drifting past in stagnant air. Whispers of Price and Gaz showing up soon.

Soon.

She was being left in the dark.

She knew it.

She hated it.

And every butterfly that floated past she'd catch and rip its wings off.

A tribute to her truly, sour mood.

But it had seemed that she wasn't the only one in a sour mood. While she'd be able to corner Soap a few times, at least try to make some conversation as she felt like she was losing her mind in isolation.

Almost as if she was being put in timeout.

She didn't remember.

And that was her fault.

Now all of a sudden they wouldn't talk to her.

Were they mad at her?

Did they not want her anymore?

She was a part of the team.

At least she thought she was a part of the team.

Maybe it didn't mean anything.

She felt useless, sitting here doing nothing.

She wanted to help,

to be useful.

She had caught Rudy in the hallway one day, stopping politely to greet each other she offered her assistance.

"I'm losing my mind here, dude." She'd said. "Your techs need any help?"

"Of course... Let me ask first, then I'll go get you."

What she didn't expect was a very, very poorly managed tech department with a senile old man sitting in front of a computer that looked like it had been pulled out of the nineties.

"This... Is the tech department?" She asked, glancing over to Rudy.

"...Si..."

"You're shitting me, right?"

"No." He replied voice raised slightly.

"This isn't a tech dep, and if this is what you guys are running I'm surprised you aren't all dead." She hisses out. Taking a step closer to him.

"Look, I'm sorry. I'm just following-"

"Orders. Right." She seethed. "So, not tech-dep-tech-dep, what activities are done here?"

The old man lifted his head, lifting a hand with a pack of cards. "Chinchón!" He stood, moving from his chair in front of the computer to a table tucked in behind a shelf.

Her head snapped over, looking at him. "What?"

"You'll get along great- that's Momia, call him Mom. Bye now!" Rudy side stepped and quickly exited the door leaving her alone with the lingering smell of old cigarette smoke, and a wrinkled old man with a pack of cards.

She hesitantly stepped forward, more into the room to glance over a shelf to see him sitting at a table with the pack of cards in hand, tapping an empty carton of cigarettes against the damaged fold-out table. "....Hello."

"Hello." He replied back. His voice was gravelly, aged. It reminded her slightly of Price's. It carried a weight, one that was only acquired with experiences.

Haunting ones.

"You speak English?" She hesitantly asked.

"Fucking hope so." He bites back.

She was taken aback slightly, raising a brow. "Why do they call you Mom?"

"Supposed to be momia, call me Mom."

"What's that mean?"

"Mummy. Cause been here since you were in diapers." He replied, opening the package of cards and placing them on the table.

"I don't understand why I'm being placed with a fucking babysitter." Jitters hisses out, standing up and pushing her chair back. "I'm more than capable of taking care of myself and I won't be disregarded to-"

"Sit the fuck down." The old man grumbles out.

She sits back down quietly. "Sorry, Sir." She mumbles, awkwardly folding her hands in her lap.

"You know Chinchón?" He asks.

"No."

"Rummy?"

"...No."

"Gin?"

"You're just making these up, aren't you."

The old man sighs, rolling his shoulders back and letting out a deep exhale.

....

She groaned, leaning back into her chair after losing yet another card game to the man next to her.

"At this point why don't we play something like speed?" She asked.

"No."

"Why, you afraid you're gonna lose?"

"No."

She groaned again, looking around the room. "Why are you in here anyways?"

"It is my room." He replied simply.

"Like, you live in here?" She asked.

"No."

"What do you even do on that computer?"

"Solitare."

"You play it a lot?"

"Si."

She looked over at the computer and the well-worn mouse on the mouse pad next to it. There was a full ash tray sitting a few feet off of the thick computer.

"You play cards a lot?" She asked, keeping her eyes on the old computer.

"No, not many to play with." He replied, shuffling the deck and getting ready for another agonizing round of him wiping the floor.

"So you just play Solitare all day?"

"Si."

"Huh." She turned back around, facing him at the table and watching as he dealt out the cards again.

"You ever get bored of it?"

"Me? No." He replies. "Now play."

"If you just play cards all day and smoke why don't you just go home?" She asked.

"The Los Vaqueros is my home, my child." He states.

"You Rudy's Daddy or something?"

He huffs a light laugh at that. "No... no.... But I remember when he was just a boy. Skittish little mocoso."

"So you've been here a long time."

"Yes."

She sighed. Conversation with the man was impossible, all he would do was shuffle the cards, ash his cig, light a new one, and maybe every once and a while stand to leave to take a piss.

She was going insane.

The room was dingy, and stained with cigarette smoke and it didn't help the chairs squeaked in a horribly irritating way.

Any time she stood she'd been chastised.

She was being held hostage by an old bastard who smoked like a chimney and played cards all day.

It'd be fun, in theory, but she wanted to be anywhere.

Anywhere but in that room.

Feeling useless.

Doing nothing.

It was aggravating, they were occupying her.

Placing her with a babysitter.

What was really happening?

Mom sure took advantage of bossing her around, to bring him his lunch, eat with her, go fetch him a new pack of cigs.

And it went on like that for a few more days.

She'd like to think they'd made progress, she started to understand the card games, play along, maybe even win once or twice.

He'd start telling her long, raspy, and drawn-out stories of the good ol' days.

The days when justice wasn't a foreign concept.

'A bullet can solve any problem' the old man had told her.

To a degree, she agreed with that statement.

His eyes would dance when he spoke of old stories, stories of when he was young.

Stories of when he was strong.

He was crazy, she'd deduced.

Maybe senile.

Half the things he'd tell her didn't seem feasible to survive, but she'd let the old man live through his stories. Watching the life glisten in his eyes as he relived the good memories of his past.

Relive his youth.

"We didn't have these cartel problems when we just strung them up in the street." He said, puffing off of his cigarette and placing a card down.

"Think that's bad for tourism." She replied bluntly.

He laughed, that dry, raspy, old laugh.

They continued to play, the long dreadful games to her always losing and him finishing with a crooked smile with missing teeth.

"Back in my day, we never had those phones. Just cards."

"Bet you didn't have a girlfriend either." She bit back.

"I had many of women." He replied.

"Yea, Mom, the slayer of women."

"Hah..." He laughed. Sitting up in his chair and flexing his shoulders. It was almost like a routine. Trying to correct his poor posture that had been engrained over the years. "I wasn't always Mom."

"Hard to see you as anything other than a chimney with a card problem."

"I remember when the spirits still roamed the desert."

She sighed silently, looking up at him.

"Yea? Dance with the cactus too?"

He laughed lightly. "I thought you'd understand! Have you not seen the demons dancing in the sky?"

She paused, looking at him.

The smoke danced off of his cigarette and up into the air, dissipating into the room's stuffy atmosphere and tar clinging to the walls.

"The desert still lives, at night." He adds. "But only if it deems you worthy."

"Worthy of what, exactly?" She asked.

"A warrior's death." He explained simply, collecting the cards and starting to shuffle them again.

"Why would I need a warrior's death?" She asked, looking at him hesitantly.

"Not need, but worthy. Pure of heart. Intention." He clarifies. "We can all see the demons. They crawl out of the dark, but the life... No, that's only there for the good."

"Have you seen the life of the desert?" She asked.

"Not for a long, long time. Before I became what I am today. When I was a young boy, I would watch the cactus dance on the sand."

"Before you were the momia?"

He laughed, smoke puffing from his lungs as he exhaled as chuckled. "No. When I was a warrior."

"Then who were you?"

"Can you not tell?" He asks.

She gives him a deadpan look.

He lifts his sleeve, revealing a sleeve of old, ragged tattoos.

But one stood out.

One deep into his flesh.

But it wasn't a tattoo.

It was a scar.

A brand.

It was the insignia of something- she honestly couldn't tell.

"El Gran Vaquero!" He chuckles out.

She stays silent, watching his movements.

"Lazo de la muerte, I'd hang them from the streets!" He wheezed out.

She stared.

El Gran Vaquero.

He was the first.

The first of the wild cowboys.

The Los Vaqueros.

The patriarch.

Of course, he couldn't leave. He'd be hunted like a trophy.

The old, sad card-playing man. Isolated into grungy solitude, smoke smothering air.

Lazo de la muerte.

"Can you not tell?" He asks.

She stares at him, and it as if his flesh melts from the bone. Death radiated off of his pores.

The hands that carefully shuffled the cards gripped onto a rough rope, a lasso. Wrapped around the neck of a criminal as they were dragged through the street.

He was no Mom.

He was a God Damn harbinger of death.

Staged atop a horse.

Cursed to never see the life of the desert again.

"Go find lunch, will you?" He broke her train of thought. Killing the stiff mood of the room, effectively turning back to his cards.

She groaned internally, nodding and standing to leave the room.

Following out of the hallways onto her familiar route to go to the mess, pick up grub for the old bastard and herself, follow back and continue on with the prison sentence of sitting with him, inhaling the secondhand smoke and playing cards until the tips of her fingers bled.

To get there, she'd have to route through the majority of the base, which was a pain in the ass but it had given her a much-appreciated break from the stuffiness of the room.

She'd pop her head out, look around the garage. Cut through there as a shortcut and sometimes walk outside and lean against the wall to look at the clouds and the bright sky they tried to devour.

She walked through, opening the door onto the asphalt and looking out onto the tarmac to see the familiar tall figure of Ghost standing next to a Heli.

One that was prepping to leave.

She stared in disbelief.

Were they... leaving her?

Were they not going to say goodbye?

Ghost stood, talking to who she could only assume to be Rudy from that distance. It was much easier to tell who Ghost was- the tall dark looming figure with the white of his mask making him indistinguishable.

Ghost turned, in her direction.

Like he was staring at her.

She stared back.

His body was completely facing her.

She could feel the burning of her flesh, the singing of her hair under his gaze.

They stayed like that for a moment.

Staring.

The sound of the chopper's blades beating against the air fills the silence.

And he turned, climbing into the Helicopter.

And she stared, watching as it lifted off of the ground and ascended.

Leaving.

Without a word.

Nothing.

"I am not your babysitter." He said plainly.

"Never said you were." She shot back.

"Bit defensive are we?" He questions, moving across the room to put away a weight he had been using earlier.

She grumbled a little, crossing her arms. "I didn't mean to. I just am starting to dislike being regarded as a baby."

He turned, looking at her. "Then do something about it."

She stared at where the helicopter once was.

"No. I'm not being cocky. You, yourself told me to do something about it and this is me doing something about it." She throws her hands up in the air. "You drag me out to bumfuck, act like I'm your Soap surrogate but when we get back you act like none of it happened." She seethes out.

"You were a liability." Ghost says again, the words leaving his mouth drawled out slowly.

"Yea?" Jitters voice cracks a little bit.

"This isn't some fun game you just get to run around with now." Ghost started.

"This isn't a fucking game, and I earned my spot here. I've earned it multiple times and I've proven that-."

"You haven't proved anything. You are not a soldier. You are a fake. We are not your community service project or your parole officers. I don't need your falsified pity, or courage for that matter." He spits.

She stared.

They didn't want her anymore.

"You. Are a scared, weak little girl."

Do you ever miss it?" She asks.

He looks at her and nods a bit before flicking the ash off of the end of his cigarette.

"Sometimes." He finally responds.

"Would you ever go back to it?"

"There's nothing left to go back to." He says.

Home.

"I guess that's something we have in common." She mumbles.

But now?

There really wasn't anything to go back to.

[bloodpotency]

I'm going to rank my favourite 5E clans and explain why under this cut

1. Tzimisce

Simply excellent all around. Interesting powers, interesting clan history, fun social-political dynamics to explore and a debilitating enough clan bane to come up with ways it might affect a person psychologically over time. A lot of my tzimisce characters explore the idea of "home" and belonging as well as the horrifying nature of having your brain rot from the inside not just from the beast but from even more innocuous toxic thought patterns like claiming ownership of friends. It must be so challenging to be a tzimisce and remain human, which is wonderful for storytelling and character studies. My only regret with this clan as a DM is that I'm committed to them seeming rare in my setting so there aren't many characters I can write.

2. Ventrue

They are, imo, the funniest clan. All I need to do is show you LaCroix and you understand. Though I can understand also why people think they are annoying for the reasons I find them hilarious. Let me pitch you this: my beloved Ventrue OC, Thomas, is a loser tech bro boyfailure who is entitled to everything and is regularly punished. He was sired illegally, swept under the rug and forced to associate with anarchs cuz no one else will take him. I never understood the beauty of misfortune comedy before I was introduced to Ventrue. It's all about the narrative framing.

3. Lasombra

Similar to Ventrue (obviously) but they have sexy evil Eldritch darkness powers. What's not to love. I recently read through the clanbook in its entirety with my partner and the way they are all so comically villain-like in how they conduct clan business it rivals the Tremere clan. I love their drama and their aesthetic. Their only ding is that you have to ignore a lot of awkwardly handled racism (to show how evil they are!) from the canon leader characters. I'll have to read Chicago by night soon and hope it handles it fine.

4. Nosferatu

You can't go wrong with a bunch of fucked up looking monster dudes. Nosferatu get a ton of points for how creative you can be with their character design, similar to tzimisce. I also really love how they are probably among the least-toxic clans to be a part of, so it's just as easy to write wholesome character dynamics as it is to write messed up ones. As a DM, they are also great utility characters that can write you out of a lot of corners. Need information? They literally just collect it for fun and profit. It's free world building and plot hook real estate.

5. Malkavian

Now listen... I know Malkavians have the obvious drawback of being frequently portrayed as mean-spirited caricatures of mentally ill people. However... If you are mentally ill yourself, writing one that is a respectful exploration of your struggles is really cathartic. Beyond that, though, my favorite part of the Malkavian experience is the cosmic horror element. I love how their antideluvian is some unknowable incorporeal being that connects all of them. I love unknowable mind breaking horror! And I love their utility as well. If your player is a Malkavian attuned to the cobweb, you can just speak to them as the Storyteller for free basically. It's great fun.

6. Tremere

Wizards.

...

Clan lore is good too. The rigid structure of the clan is good for making a world with a Chantry nearby feel larger and more powerful. Also I guess it's pretty fun that they can do real magic.

7. Toreador

They're kinda mid to me. I don't dislike them but a lot of what makes them unique in WOD is just normal typical vampire fluff in other media. They're seductive, romantic, artistic, yeah whatever. These things gotta be subverted or executed flawlessly for me to be invested so Toreador neither wins nor loses. It doesn't help that their 2/3 of their 5E disciplines are ones I find kinda boring in practice (Celerity, Auspex).

8. Hecata

Carried almost entirely by how funny I find the Giovanni clan, stands low-mid tier Hecata clan. It's sad how much this clan/clans got butchered in 5E. It suffers most clearly from WOD's desire to not "retcon" things in Vampire. Clan lore is non-existent because they tried to just mash a bunch of clans together and pretend like it makes sense and created what sounds like the most boring traits of all of them to be the default. Points for potential, and the ability to carry on playing as if you are simply one of the original clans that made up this one.

9. Gangrel

Even though by all means I should be into Gangrel, they still end up being kinda mid for me. They fulfill a similar niche that either Tzimisce, Nosferatu or actual werewolves could fill just as easily. There's nothing wrong with them, the things I see in them are just done better by other clans in my opinion. They become forgettable to me and I'm gonna have to will myself to make some more cuz it would make sense for my home game!

10. The Ministry

I think they could be very interesting. I think it's silly and goofy that one of their clan traits is "wants to make you evil", that's good for comedy. And the vibe they have is good. I love a good cult, I love snakes... But I don't know if I find the whole Followers of Set thing to be compelling unless I missed some lore about how Set has adapted in the modern world. Maybe it could be cool if Set was the Wyrm or whatever. The Ministry is good for plot devices but I don't know how interesting they are as characters otherwise.

11. Brujah

I admit I'm biased on this one. I think it's kinda sad that in "modern" day, the time period most vtm games are run, Brujah are just stock angry countercultural guys. They're set up to be protagonists of a story against corrupt leaders and...nothing else. The clan doesn't give you much to work with. Strong fast and sexy guys with their three disciplines and basically zero clan structure (I miss VTM Redemption philosopher Brujah) does aesthetic). Every good Brujah character is good because of their writing and gets no shortcuts from being Brujah.

12. Ravnos

The last two clans get like. Negative points for the racism baggage they were born with all the way back in the earlier editions. I think Ravnos has a bit more interesting clan lore (what with their antediluvian wiping them out in recent-ish canon memory) but it takes a lot of conscious effort to make a character that isn't an uncomfortable appropriation of nomadic culture stereotypes.

13. Banu Haqim

It's difficult to ignore how their clan bane used to be THAT... And the whole fact that their clan lore, to this day in 5E continues to struggle to untangle itself from islamic extremist stereotyping. Saying "oh the extremists are just the evil faction of this clan now!" doesn't really cut the level of how bad and uncomfortable and disrespectful this clan was. I am not equipped to write a character of this clan that does not exist entirely separate from its lore. You get no favors from Banu Haqim.

My thoughts on caitiff and thin bloods are separate, and I can't really put them on a numbered list due to how they feel like separate entities entirely in vampire. Might make a separate post?

Thanks for reading! Remember all the above content is just my opinion and I am a DM who makes ocs, I haven't actually been a player in this game as of me writing this. I'm sure it shows lol

[littlemissgloomexe]

Untitled bootleg game [a pokepasta]

Has anyone else ever played one of those bootleg Pokémon games? Well, I had a weird experience with one. My friend, Anu, and I bonded over our love for Pokémon and would take pleasure in finding knock off games, and laughing at how ridiculous they were.

On the last day of school, something happened that stopped me from wanting to play any bootleg games. When I was walking out of school I was stopped by Anu, they shouted my name while running up to me, waving their arm in the air.

“Sarah! Hey, Sarah!!” They grabbed my shoulder when they finally caught up to me. “OW-! Watch it, dude!” they awkwardly apologized to me after I yelled at them. “Before you leave, I wanted to give you this.” They handed me a disk and a sheet of paper, they had a devious grin on their face as they handed it to me.

Before I could thank them, they ran away. I sighed and shook my head, then I walked out of the school. I was staring at the disk the entire walk home, I was really confused as to what it was, but I was somewhat excited at the same time.

Once I finally got home, I called for my parents but they didn’t answer, I was home alone. I went up to my room and put the disk in my computer then read the note Anu gave me along with the disk. The note had some sort of directions, it said; “Yet another bootleg Pokémon game!!! Safe route: Name your character “Storm” DeadStorm route: Name your character “Trait” HAVE FUN LMAO” So I figured out that Anu gave me a bootleg Pokémon game.

Apparently it had two different routes? I just went with it and booted up the game. Weird, there was no title on the start screen, I shrugged it off. There was a character on the screen, it was a girl with fluffy black hair, there were pieces of hair at the top of her head that formed a triangle form, they kinda looked like cat ears.

I clicked start and entered the name “Storm”, I’m gonna assume the character’s canon name is Storm. The game started with this “Storm” character in her room, as any Pokémon game would, the only difference was that there was no intro, no professor giving an introduction explaining how Pokémon inhabit the world and all that shit. Much like the title screen, I shrugged this off, I thought maybe the game was unfinished, if that’s true, I wonder how Anu got their hands on an unfinished game.

Something cool that I noticed almost immediately was that Storm’s idle sprite was animated instead of it just being a static standing pose. There was breathing and blinking animations, Storm’s room had this whole gothic style going on, which was also pretty cool too. I walked Storm over to her bedroom door only for me to be interrupted by a dialogue box

“Well, I better get going!”

My eyes widened “Oh cool, The protagonist actual speaks! Maybe she’ll have an actual personality?” I started talking to myself about how I think I might genuinely love this game, another line of dialogue snapped my attention back to my computer screen.

“…”

“My neck itches.”

I squinted at the screen, “What…? Does that have some hidden meaning or something?” I said out loud to myself, I rolled my eyes and walked out of the room, it seemed like Storm didn’t have any parents as there was nobody downstairs to talk to her before she left. I just walked out of the door, nothing outside seemed strange or different, I decided to look at the menu hoping I’d find a little more information about the character I’m playing as.

I’ve gathered a bit of information about Storm: She has a Pokémon already, a female Mimikyu, so no choosing from a set of three starters, and Storm is 15 years old. That’s all I could find, as I’ve just started the game so everything else is just empty. I played the game like how you would with a normal Pokémon game and nothing interesting happened, I was about to close the game and shoot Anu a passive aggressive text until something interesting actually did happen.

As soon as I took the first step into a new route, the screen froze and turned completely white except for Storm’s sprite outlines, along with this, a loud buzzing noise played. I jumped at the sudden loud noise before leaning closer to the screen, I tried clicking the keys on my keyboard, nothing, until I hit enter, it brought up the menu for two seconds before the screen went completely black, white text slowly typed out on the screen.

“What are you doing?”

“What are you doing here?”

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

Then the game crashed. I ejected the disk then put it back in, and opened the game again. There wasn’t a continue option like I expected, I could only start a new game. I entered the new name “Trait” and loaded the new game. “What the hell is a DeadStorm route?” I said to myself while looking over Anu’s note. A few things were already different visually, Storm, or I guess “Trait” in this context, had a different hair style, the “cat ears” were gone and instead she had a weird antenna thing at the top of her head, along with hair tufts on the sides of her hair, one on the top right side, the other on the bottom left side.

Trait was pale, and her hoodie was a bit darker than the Storm sprites, the breathing and blinking animation was slower, and she had eye bags, she just appeared empty. I decided to look through her bag to see if anything changed, she had a few normal items, except for one, “Knife” I shrugged this off and walked Trait downstairs, she still had no parents

“I wonder where my family is”

I squinted at the screen, she didn’t say anything in the other route, the game definitely is unfinished, at least the first route is. I walked Trait outside and walked around her hometown, it was somewhat familiar, but that could just be me. Unlike I did in the first route, I went into other buildings in the town. I talked to the NPCs, who had nothing interesting to say, that was until I talked to the Pokémart worker.

She was a redheaded girl and she was referred to as “Ms. Rivers”. She had a long string of dialogue that I skimmed through, only catching a few words Rivers said, I stopped spamming enter when Trait had their own line of dialogue

“(She’s really starting to annoy me…)”

Then the string of dialogue ended. I jokingly said to myself “Well Trait…” I opened up the items menu “Why don’t you just kill her?” and I clicked the knife option, thinking nothing would happen, but I couldn’t be more wrong. The screen went black and then…

STAB STAB STAB STAB

A series of rapid stabbing sounds played before the black screen faded out and showed a detailed picture of Rivers dead. She was sitting with her back against the wall, her eyes wide open in shock and completely grey. She had stab wounds on her neck, shoulders and multiple wounds on her abdomen area, weirdly enough, the blood was pink rather than red and the image wasn’t pixelated.

The screen transitioned back to the overworld sprites, my jaw was dropped, I didn’t think this game would show gore. Another dialogue box appeared.

“…”

“I didn’t want to do that.”

Trait walked out of the pokémart without my control, like the game was playing a cutscene. When she was outside I could finally move her around again, she walked slower this time and people would actually try to talk to her, but her only response was “Not now please…”

“What the hell is going on?!” I said, my eyes were glued to the screen, I had nowhere to go but I continued to wander around the town. After I little over a minute of this, Trait stopped in front of a person, I couldn’t quite make out their appearance but I’m pretty sure they were a girl. An explanation mark appeared above Trait’s head and she ran away.

I was so confused, I texted Anu thinking they would’ve known something about this. They left me on read… of course. I looked back at the screen and Trait was standing in what looked to be an alleyway

“Please don’t make me go back there.”

“Please.”

“I don’t wanna go out there.”

At this point I just felt bad for Trait, I desperately tried to help them find a way out. Sure, I can be weird and feel bad for a fictional character. There wasn’t any other way out, the only way out was to go the same way Trait came in from. The same girl was waiting for Trait, she was carrying a machete and she walked closer to them and I pieced together what was about to happen. I didn’t want Trait to die, I spammed the “eject” button but my computer wouldn’t let me eject the disk.

Click click click click click

As the girl got closer

Click click click click click

But nothing happened. I wanted to cry, I felt so bad for this character. The girl stepped in front of Trait and one final dialogue box appeared.

“Look what you did. What have you done. Why did you do this to me.”

The screen faded to black and a cutting sound followed by a deep feminine voice grunting in pain played. Then a similar screen as the Rivers screen faded in. It was Trait’s headless body on the ground, front side down, and a pool of pink blood coming from her neck, her head was next to her body, a small amount of blood pooled from that too.

I felt sick. I covered my mouth with my hand. I wanted to cry. Then, the game crashed. I could finally eject the disk, I ejected it and put it back in hoping I could find a way to save Trait, but instead of the title screen it was just a black screen, white text appeared saying

“You don’t need to play this game anymore. You can stop now.”

And it crashed again. I immediately went to research the game to see if anyone could’ve known what this meant since Anu was no help. Not many people were talking about this game, but from the little information I’ve gathered, I’ve come to a conclusion; the creator of this game is most likely going through something awful and probably made it out of stress, but that could just be a stretch.

All I know for sure is… this experience scared me out of ever playing another bootleg game.

A/N: omfg what did I write. Thiz iz prob rlly lackluzter since I’ve never written a pasta before. If you read thiz far, firzt of all tysm, second of all I’m so sorry you had to suffer thru readin all of that </3 Your support iz highly appreciated!