#WHY ARE WE BEING SO SHALLOW W EACH OTHER

[kdelarenta]

right so i just started n's route and got to the first sex scene - go girl, give us nothing 😐

[eloquentlytired]

Logan with a breeding kink fic? 😉

18+ mdni

— raw.

pairing: logan howlett x fem reader

word count: less than 900

tags: unprotected sex — breeding — logan is feral — just filthy smut — risky sex — dom/sub undertones

author’s note: hi anon I hope this was a good read for you. logan having a breeding kink is so incredibly canon honestly

ৎৎৎ

“lo.” you moan as you lie facedown on the bed, legs straight, hips slightly raised. logan enters you from behind and the way he stretches you in this position has you whimpering. one of his large hands puts weight on your head and forces you to bury it against the bedsheets as you sob beneath him. his other hand stays on your middle to kind of support himself as he fucks you, driving his veiny cock into your deepest parts. the bed creaks beneath your moving bodies but you don't seem to care. logan grunts as he feels your pussy clenching around his cock, coating it too with your arousal. “still taking your pills like a good girl?” the shake of your head makes his hips slow down and gradually stop. you tilt your head at an awkward angle to stare at him and he stares back. “w—we ran out.” you whisper, voice still laced with arousal and need. logan weighs his options as his eyes drift downwards where his cock is completed soaked by your wetness and even his pubic hair drip with the doings of your pussy. his bare cock twitches inside you and you moan. “not safe,lo. let's just—”

there's not much you can do in this position when logan starts thrusting again. you take what he gives you and your eyes roll back when the fat head of his cock kisses your sweet spot, making your entire body shake all over. tears of pleasure slide down your cheeks and he leans down to kiss a tender spot on your shoulder before biting down. he grounds his hips in circles and you almost scream. “there— there,lo.” you beg him and he repeats the motion again and again. when your pussy tightens around him as you cum, logan growls into your shoulder and you can sense him growing more feral over you. your hands grip onto the bedsheets for dear life as you drool and cry against the mattress. logan drives his cock faster inside you and a few more thrusts later he fills you up, leaning the weight of his lower body on yours that his cock nudges impossible places within you. it makes you squirm and logan offers you a reassuring kiss as he pants against your shoulder, trying to process the raw feel of your walls around his bare girth.

“fuck.” you hear him curse minutes later and when you look back, your eyes widen. logan slips his softening cock out of your pussy and watches as his own come drips out and over your cunt. you exchange a silent and long stare and then logan is moving you again. you don't know what's happening or why but you're about to.

you've lost count and you've also lost any sanity left for the time being. you drag a hand over your belly as logan pumps his load inside you again, making your thighs shake from where they sit atop his own. you're laying on your back this time while he gets comfortable between your spread legs, breeding you until the late hours. “one last time. I swear,baby.” he lies through his teeth again and you allow it. logan slips his hands underneath your legs and shoves them back until your knees are nearly touching your chest. his cock is still hard and leaking — he'd really done it this time — and he wants to blame your bare cunt for wrapping around his cock so perfectly. you're tired and your pussy feels a little sore but you can't help but reach a wandering hand to your clit and rub it as logan fucks you mercilessly. his balls are heavy and drag against you with each shallow thrust. your entire body shakes and your other hand remains atop your stomach; you're full, so full, and your toes curl when you think about how much of logan’s seed you've stored in your womb.

“lo—” you're letting go again, your entire body spasming as your fingers shake against your swollen clit. logan’s eyes narrow when he watches you squirt beneath him and one of his hands is moving down to toy with your pussy, his fingers moving past yours and past your clit to tease the source of your squirt. it makes you cry and nearly scream. logan feels his balls tighten and before you know it he's already giving it to you again, spilling everything inside your pussy to make it full. to make his seed take place. “lo.” by the time you call for him he's already slipping a hand around your nape, clutching it, while his other hand joins your own on top of your stomach.

your lips meet and logan soothes you. “so pretty, so sweet. you took so much in ya, princess.” and his whispers make you tremble even more as you kiss him back slowly. his kisses are nothing like the way he fucks you; they're slow, patient and gentle. logan hums into your mouth as you wrap your arms around his neck. his fingers flex upon your stomach, even doing so much as squeeze it. he loves it. “how ‘bout we forget about those pills?” logan growls.

his cock doesn't stay soft for long and when his hand presses into your tummy possessively, you know exactly what awaits you.

[flowercrowngods]

it’s steddie yearning hours

🤍 also on ao3

It’s a little fucked up, maybe, the way Eddie can’t seem to tear his eyes away from Steve‘s sleeping form. He’s a sight to behold — curled up on his side, making himself as small as he can; his hair is a mess, hiding his face from the world but not from Eddie, not quite. The room is dark except for the light of the lamps outside that comes in through the blinds, landing right on Steve, and Eddie thinks how fitting it is that Steve would be found by the light even in total darkness. He would be found and unaware of it.

And Eddie Munson is left to lean against the doorframe, arms crossed in front of his chest like that would save his heart, keep it where it is, keep it for himself. He shouldn’t be looking at Steve like that. Not when they’re hardly even friends, not when what they have is only remnant of a world ending. A world saved. A world forever changed.

He sighs, leaning his whole weight against the frame, clenching his fists in his t-shirt, doing everything to stop himself from stepping closer to the bed, running fingers through Steve‘s mess of hair, brushing lips to his forehead and climbing in bed with him.

The doorframe holds his weight, his sanity, his heart, and Eddie slides down with another heart sigh that the poets would have called wistful. Yearning. Longing and belonging.

He hits the ground and hopes that it would break the haze. But nothing can. There’s a heaviness inside him that makes it hard to breathe and leaves him wishing that Steve weren’t in his bed, in his heart, in his life. Not like this.

He wants to be friends with Steve. Real, actual friends. People who don’t have to hold each other through nightmares, people who go to the arcade together and make fun of each other. Who exchange their favourite tapes and go on trips together.

He doesn’t want to be bonded to him by trauma and horrors unimaginable alone. He wants to fall in love slowly, gently, wants the secret smiles and the fluttering inside his chest that he overheard the girls at school talking about.

He wants another chance with Steve. Another try. Without monsters, without death and dying, without saving and being saved. He wants Steve Harrington to choose Eddie Munson for who he is, not for what they went through.

He wants Steve to choose. To have a choice.

Breathing through a lump in his throat has become second nature to him lately, and he finally looks away from this boy that has yet to drop the other shoe on Eddie.

After who knows how long, Steve stirs, stretching with an adorable little groan until he stills, his eyes on Eddie. He can feel them. He doesn’t look up to meet them, can’t be responsible for whatever Steve would find in his eyes.

“Hey,” he hears, Steve’s voice incredibly soft despite the rasp of disuse that’s marking it.

Eddie shivers a little and finally looks up. “Hi.” A beat. You’re beautiful. “Sleep well?”

“Mm-hmm,” Steve nods, yawns again, then curls up some more on his side, scooting over to the edge of the bed so he can better see Eddie. “How long was I out for?”

Two hours, forty-eight minutes. “‘Bout two and a half hours,” Eddie says, smiling when Steve’s eyes widen. “There’s dinner. If you’re hungry.”

He’s holding his breath, shallow as it is, because his lungs cannot be trusted around Steve anymore. Not with the way he smiles every time Eddie makes dinner. Not with the way he hides said smile behind the blanket a little bit, like he doesn’t want Eddie to see, like he can’t believe he’s smiling in the first place.

Eddie wants to get up and hold him. Trace that smile with his fingers. Make it stay.

What are we doing, Steve? What are you still doing in my life? Why did you make yourself a home like it’s worth staying here?

Slowly, still a little clumsy from his prolonged nap, Steve gets up with the blanket in his hands and drops it on Eddie’s lap. Must have mistaken his shivers for being cold. Then Steve steps over him, ruffles his hair as he does, and Eddie wants to cry a little bit at the way Steve snickers at it. He’s ridiculous. Eddie is ridiculously gone for him. It hurts more than it should.

“You hungry, too?” Steve asks, fingers finding Eddie’s hair to comb through the curls he just messed up. Eddie doesn’t have it in himself to move his head, to put a distance between them, to confront Steve about what this is, what they’re doing, what it all means.

All he does is nod — slowly, so Steve’s fingers stay where they are. They do. Eddie pinches his own fingers to stop from reaching out and snatching Steve’s hand, bringing it to his lips, making him stay. Stay here. Stay in his life forever. Stay and never realise that there’s no reason for him to do that.

He meets Steve’s eyes even though that’s dangerous business. “Starving.“

Steve’s face does this thing again. That thing where he softens so visibly, his eyes shining a little, his lips twitching into both a smile and a frown. It’s mortifying. It’s liberating. It’s being seen by Steve.

“You didn’t have to wait, Eddie.” His voice is soft. Chiding and grateful all at once, and Eddie’s heart flutters.

“I know,” he shrugs, and that’s that because he bites his tongue. I wanted to. I’ll wait. I’ll always wait.

Steve huffs and then he’s gone, rummaging around in the kitchen before he reappears with two plates of lasagna in his hands. Instead of asking Eddie to come join him at the table or settling back in bed, Steve hands one plate to Eddie and then slides down the other side of the doorframe so they’re face to face, their thighs pressed together. It’s a tight fit, but their bodies are angled just so, making this as comfortable as it gets.

It’s one of the first things they figured out together, sitting in the door like this. Wayne comes home sometimes to find them like this, even joined them on some occasions. Just to talk, just to be there.

Steve reaches over to grab the blanket again, draping it over both their laps, and Eddie shoves a large forkful of lasagna into his mouth to stop himself from saying something stupid.

What are we doing? When does it end? When is the last time I get to sit with you, share my blanket with you, get you to eat my lasagna? Tell me; just tell me so I can prepare. Tell me you won’t stay so I can stop dreaming.

They eat in silence and Steve’s eyes are on him for most of it, but Eddie doesn’t look up. It’s heavier tonight, heavier than usual. Heavier because Steve’s cheeks are streaked with the imprint of Eddie’s pillow, heavier because his hair is a wild mess, heavier because Eddie wants to breathe him in and hold him forever.

But Steve is awake, and they only hold each other when they have a nightmare. Because that’s why they are in each other’s lives. There is no room for feelings, for romance, for yearning when their smiles only exist to keep each other alive.

“Are you okay, Eddie?” Steve whispers, his plate empty while Eddie barely touched his own, too busy not looking at Steve that he forgot to be a person in the process. It’s nothing new, really, but he’s gotta get a grip.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

See, that’s the thing about Steve. He always gives you two chances to say something. The first try for all those impulse answers, the things you wish for yourself, the hand wave of dismissal. And then the second chance without judgment.

And Eddie loves him. Can’t lie to him again, so he just shrugs. His second chance not yet taken. Steve bumps their knees and Eddie’s eyes water. He eats his lasagna with stinging eyes and slightly shaking hands, because Steve can’t know. But Eddie might explode if he doesn’t.

“Wanna go for a walk?”

And, see, that’s another thing about Steve Harrington and the way he sees you. He knows Eddie hates being still, can’t talk when he’s sitting down. Can’t talk about anything meaningful when the world is quiet and dark and still.

Steve knows what Eddie needs. And it’s a little fucked up, maybe, but Eddie knows that Steve secretly needs it, too.

And he should say no. Should swallow his emotions, his thoughts, his fears, his aching and yearning and longing and belonging, should swallow it all and smile it away, bump his knee into Steve’s and propose they watch a movie together.

But he doesn’t. He can’t swallow tonight, not when there’s a lump in his throat, not when Steve is so warm against him, not when—

“Okay,” Steve smiles, climbing to his feet. “Let me go get ready, you finish your lasagna. Can I, uh. Can I borrow a sweater?”

“You know you don’t gotta ask.”

Another smile and he ruffles Eddie’s hair again. It makes his heart jump. “Thanks, man.”

“Of course,” Eddie whispers, barely audible, and not for Steve’s ears, just for his own need to say something. Anything. To make this real.

Ten minutes later, Eddie closes and locks the trailer door beside him and they start walking. The night is quiet even though it’s only just past eleven, and it’s a tad colder than Eddie expected. Beside him, Steve sticks his hands into the pockets of his jacket, fluffing up the hood of Eddie’s sweater so it covers his neck from the light breeze. Feeling Eddie’s eyes on him, Steve smiles and cocks his head down the street.

“Shall we?”

Eddie only hums but sets the pace. They’re both looking down at the ground, neither of them really caring where it is they’re going. It’s not about getting anywhere, it’s just about moving. Walking. Talking without looking at each other, finding excuses and answers in the night sky and the swaying treetops.

They walk in silence for a good half hour before Eddie finds his courage, his words, his peace with the possible answers. The night can cover for him and convince the daylight of little white lies that sound a lot like, I’ll be fine.

“You know you don’t have to do all this, right?”

Beside him, Steve’s steps falter a little. Maybe he didn’t expect Eddie to talk after all. “Do what?”

“This, I don’t know,” Eddie sighs, opening his arms to indicate the entirety of his life, really. “Sticking around. Staying.”

Steve frowns a little but he keeps his steps in sync with Eddie’s. That’s the whole point of their little nightly walks. No stopping, no looking, no seeing.

“Do you not want me to?”

God, how he wants Steve to stay! But also… Not like this. Not like he thinks Eddie might break if he leaves. Which Eddie will. But it shouldn’t be what makes Steve stay.

And there’s no way to say that. So all he does is shrug.

There’s a little pained noise from Steve, and Eddie scrambles for words that evade him, truths that make him too vulnerable, too real, too much.

“Okay,” Steve says after a while, and he sounds so small when he does. Eddie looks over and sees him pinching the bridge of his nose, nodding slowly, his mouth opening and closing with words unsaid. “Do you… Should I go home?”

Maybe you should, Eddie thinks. Get back to people you can be friends with; real friends.

“Maybe,” he says, slowing to a stop, looking away from Steve. “But I don’t want you to.”

“I… Okay? I don’t—“ Steve sighs and stops as well. “If it bothers you that we’re friends, then you can just—“

“Are we?” Eddie interrupts him, wincing at the way his own voice sounds. “Are we?” he repeats, quieter this time, opening up the question to honesty and vulnerability rather than disbelief and challenge.

Steve frowns again, confused, and Eddie remembers why they don’t do this in the quiet of his room; why they don’t do this while looking at each other. He can’t look at Steve and ask these questions. It’s too much.

So he turns and keeps walking, following the familiar road they’re on. Steve follows, a bit behind, and it leaves Eddie feeling horribly alone.

“You know,” Steve says after a while, scoffing, sighing, breathing until he tries again. Eddie waits. Here comes the other shoe. It’s finally there. “You know, I should be used to it by now, but it doesn’t really stop hurting when people keep questioning your intentions. With the kids, I kinda get it. There’s, like, years separating us. I get it when they’re hesitant to call me their friend.

“And with Robin, you know, she spent weeks after Starcourt just waiting for me to drop her. To be like, ‘Alright, thanks, it was good while it lasted but you’re an actual nerd and I don’t care for that shit at all.’”

Steve laughs and Eddie frowns, No laugh should sound so hollow.

“I had no idea she was so obsessed with the idea of me leaving her. She didn’t trust that I would stick around, that I actually loved her, that she’s my best friend and— God, she… I just, I don’t get it, y’know?”

Steve turns around because Eddie’s steps had slowed while Steve sped up, and Steve is walking backwards with his hands in his pocket, looking at Eddie with a hurt, confused expression.

“And now you’re telling me you don’t want me to stay and that I should go home, but that you don’t want me to do that either? You’re asking me if we’re friends, Eddie? What the hell else would we be? I’m…” He shakes his head and spreads his arms. “What do I have to do for anyone to believe me I just wanna spend time with them because they’re cool and I feel really fucking good being around them?”

Eddie doesn’t wanna look at Steve, but he can’t look away either. They’ve stopped again, a few feet apart, and Steve looks so open, ready for Eddie to answer, to tell him, to talk, when all Eddie wants to do is run away. Run to him. And he can’t do either. Can’t tell him.

“It’s not that,” he says lamely.

He gets to watch as Steve’s face scrunches up, crumbles, and then falls until there’s nothing left. His expression empty.

“I’m going home now, Eddie.”

“Why?”

Steve shakes his head and swallows. “Because I’m hurt. And confused. And I don’t wanna talk anymore, not when you don’t.”

And with that, Steve turns around. Walks down the road, disappearing into darkness until the next street light catches him. Attracting light even in darkness.

And Eddie breaks finally. He runs down the street, halfway catching up with Steve until he’s close enough to make sure the other boy can hear him.

“I’m terrified,” he says, making Steve stop. He doesn’t turn around yet, but it’s enough for Eddie to keep going. “I’m so fucking terrified that you only think you have to be my friend because we nearly died together. Terrified that you’ll leave because this thing between us is so heavy, loaded with trauma and memories. I’m terrified that you won’t come over anymore one day, that you’ll be done, that you’ll find friends that are not bonded to you like I am. Or like the kids and Robin and the rest are. I’m… Stevie.”

His voice breaks a little and he approaches Steve’s form, the light catching in his hair, making Eddie feel like a moth on his way to the flame.

“I wonder if we’re friends not because I doubt you. It’s because I know I have nothing to offer you. Nothing but, like, an open ear for your memories or open arms for your nightmares. Nothing but shared memories, which I know are only a fraction of what you’ve been through. That’s not how friendship works, Stevie, that’s not what will be enough in the long run.”

He sighs, rounding Steve until he’s in front of him, but Steve’s looking down at the pavement.

“I want to be your friend, Stevie. But I have this gnawing feeling that that ship has sailed.”

Steve shakes his head when Eddie is done. Says something he can’t quite catch.

“What was that?” Eddie asks, his voice tender, his eyes watery, his breath heaving. He hates being so vulnerable, but he hates even more the thought that Steve would just leave and think Eddie never cared for him.

“You make me dinner,” Steve says then.

He sniffles. Reaches for Eddie’s hand until he seems to think better of it. Eddie feels the emptiness, the cold air on his skin, and longs to be brave enough to take Steve’s hand now. He isn’t. But he thinks about it. He thinks about it all the time.

“You make me dinner and let me sleep in your bed. You make me smile and when I’m at work, I think about you sometimes, just to think nice thoughts. I don’t… There’s nothing you have to do, Eddie. You don’t have to do or be anything to be my friend. And I don’t want you around me just because you know what it’s like to drift off in your head, or just because you don’t question it when I can’t talk. I want you around because you make me laugh and you make me happy and if I could get paid for spending my days with you and with Robin, I would do nothing else in life. Because you, Eddie Munson, are good. And you’re enough. You’re a dork and a nerd and a fucking menace, and you’re kind and good with the kids and you’re a great friend. A great friend, Eddie, fuck!”

Steve is crying, but that’s okay because so is Eddie. Sincerity is scary, scarier than facing down the demo-bats, scarier than telling Wayne he’s queer, scarier than just about anything he’s ever done. But it also allows him to take Steve’s hand and pull him against his chest.

It makes him laugh when Steve sounds so frustrated when he says, “I don’t know why I’m crying.”

It makes him pull back and wipe away the tears from Steve’s cheeks, ignoring the ones on his own.

“It’s okay, sweetheart.”

He hums in surprise when that makes Steve lean in again, hiding his face in Eddie’s neck.

“I’m… I don’t know what to say,” he whispers into Steve’s hair.

“‘S okay,” Steve says. “That was, uh, a lot.”

Eddie laughs, feeling light and elated and a little hazy, the words still catching up with him, his limbs tingling with sensation just thinking about Steve thinking about him at work.

It does nothing to dissuade him from yearning and aching and longing to brush a kiss to Steve’s hair that is so close to him now. His hand comes up to the back of Steve’s neck, and the world slows down. Steve’s breath hitches, and Eddie’s heart jumps.

“I’m… I’m gonna say something, too, okay? Gonna try, at least. Stop me whenever, okay?”

Steve doesn’t react, but his hands begin to move in slow, minute movements along Eddie’s back. It gives him courage. Makes him dream.

He closes his eyes and draws in a deep breath. “I make you dinner because I like to take care of you. I let you sleep in my bed because… because it’s gonna smell like you. I like the way you smell. I make you smile because that makes me stupidly happy. Stupid, really. You make me a little stupid sometimes, Stevie. Because I want to be your friend more than anything in the world, but lately I also… I wanna climb into bed with you and hold you even when there’s not a nightmare. Just to hold you. I wanna tuck that rebellious strand of hair behind your ear just to touch you. I wanna touch you all the time, Steve. It’s a little crazy. Drives me crazy.“

He sighs and goes for the kill because they’re in too deep now, he can’t stop. Steve knows anyway, Eddie is sure, but he wants Steve to hear, too. He wants to say it. Wants to make it real.

“I wanna kiss you,” he breathes, and it’s too real for even the night to disguise it later. “All the time. And you should know that. You should know that maybe we can’t be friends after all.“

The words leave his mouth and he’s ready for Steve to push him away, to let him down gently with regret in his face and repeat his words from earlier, let go and go home like that would solve Eddie’s predicament.

But Steve doesn’t move from the tight embrace. Or, the doesn’t move away.

His hands on Eddie‘s back begin to wander more, leaving goosebumps along the way from his shoulder blades to his hips. His face where it’s tucked against Eddie‘s neck turns slightly until his nose connects with his collarbone. Steve straightens and his nose is replaced by his lips, connecting with Eddie‘s throat, his neck, his jaw.

And then Steve pulls back. Looks at Eddie with hooded eyes, hands moving from his shoulders to his jaw. Cradling Eddie‘s face like he’s something precious.

Eddie is holding his breath, tracking Steve’s every motion, not daring to move or even breathe too deeply lest he scares him off, breaks the spell, bursts the bubble.

Steve swallows and looks down at Eddie‘s lips. “What if I told you that I wanna kiss you all the time, too?”

“Then I would call you crazy.”

Steve smiles and leans in to rest his forehead against Eddie’s, breathing into the night, “Call me crazy, then.”

“You’re crazy.”

It’s the last thing Eddie says for a while before he tilts his head forward to capture Steve’s lips with his own. Steve hums and smiles into the kiss, opening his mouth to let Eddie in deeper, holding him so close there’s no room for doubts or regrets.

[taintandviolent]

Stalked - Kai Anderson x Reader

summary & wordcount: 2.6K! After breaking up with Kai, he decides you need a little reminder of what once was. idea requested by @kaislittlelamb originally!

w a r n i n g s: smut with very little plot, implied stalking, toxic relationships, throat fucking, blowjobs, Kai being Kai, violence, aggression.

a/n: this was originally a drabble, but got longer - very quickly written, sorry if it's horrible! definitely not my best. thanks for reading it, if you did!!! no taglist this time because it's a pain in the bootay.

full fic under cut!↓ / ao3 link here! /

You'd met with Zack a few times now, but this was the first time you two had actually gotten to talk and get to know each other. He was cute, in a very boy next door sort of way; physically fit, a tousled mess of brown curls, bright green eyes, and bright, white teeth that probably got whitened bi-weekly.

"So, anyways, I moved here about three months ago after my mom moved here, and with her needing help, I figured I might as well stay." 

"Nice." You grinned. 

"Yeah, so I'm definitely still learning the best spots to eat..." 

You casually glanced around the restaurant, scanning the patrons next to you; you were an observer and enjoyed people watching, in all situations. Abruptly, several tables across from you, wavy, blue hair caught your attention. Your expression contorted into one of shock as your eyes trailed down the bridge of the nose, taking in the man's face. No fucking way. 

As though he felt that he was being watched, Kai turned mid-sentence, and immediately made eye contact with you. His brows rose slowly in surprise, and ultimately, delight. You blinked and turned away quickly, engulfing yourself back in the conversation. Or hoping to. But there was no escaping this. 

"Excuse me," you heard him say, before scooting his chair back. The legs scraped against the floor with an awkward sound, and Kai made his way over to you, navigating around the tables. 

Like a child trying to avoid being found, you almost considered sinking down in your seat, chest heaving with shallow breaths. Some luck you had. Some fucking luck. You rolled your eyes, shifting your shoulders. Zack watched you, studying your very apparent discomfort. You felt both men's eyes on you, and laughed nervously into your soda.

"Y/N..." Kai said. 

You said nothing in return, only smiled sarcastically and stirred your soda with the straw. 

"New boyfriend?" He asked, his tone dripping with faux-interest. You knew him. You knew him like the back of your hand, and he wasn't interested. He was waiting to incriminate you.

"No, actually." Zack interjected, bravely. "We're just getting to know each other. It's going well." 

You nodded, giving him a genuine smile. "It is." 

Kai tightened his smile further; the fakeness started to show through the cracks. "Good, good. Well, I just wanted to say hello. I'll leave you two lovebirds to finish your appetizers." 

"You know him?" 

"Unfortunately. Too well." 

"Ex-boyfriend?" Zack asked, popping another spinach-dip loaded chip into his mouth.

Sheepishly, you nodded.

"He looks familiar." 

"Yeah, you've probably seen him on TV. He's a councilman."

Zack snapped his fingers, pointing at you. "That's it! Anderson, right?" 

Again, you nodded. "Yep... that's the one." 

The waiter appeared, meals in hand. As you two ate, the conversation naturally melted away from Kai, which you were grateful for. Especially since it seemed like it was headed in the direction of Zack wanting to vote for him and agreeing with his campaign policies. Unfortunately, Zack fit the bill of one of the men that Kai would easily brainwash, and recruit to his noble cause.

Halfway through dessert, your phone buzzed. You knew who it was from without even looking. The message read: We should get together.

You quickly thumbed out a response. Why? 

Just to talk. 

Against better judgement, you agreed. The rest of the date was spent laughing about poorly written films in the last decade, but in the back of your mind, laughing was the last thing you wanted to be doing. The next hour was a blur. Zack had gone in for a kiss when he was leaving, which you returned, but only briefly. You were distracted. Painfully so. You went from the restaurant to Kai's, but you hardly remembered driving there. Your mind was on autopilot; a rotten, sour feeling bubbling in your stomach. Everything in you said that this was a bad idea, and yet, you gripped the steering wheel hard, looking at his front door.

You got out, locked your car and made your way up the pathway. You only knocked once before the door flew open. He stood tall. Proud. Unwavering. That overly confident, but calm smile plastered on his stupidly-handsome face. His hair hung at his cheeks, greasy as ever. He was pleased you'd shown up - you thought you saw a flicker of doubt that maybe, just maybe, you wouldn't have. But you were a woman of your word, and you weren't going to show him that he was something to fear.

"So, when are you going to break it off with what's-his-name?" Kai asked as he took the basement stairs quickly, trotting down them. You followed, wordlessly, revelling in the familiar sensations. Once you'd stopped at the final step, you glanced forward, eyes locking on the brown leather couch. Out of all the memories that you'd had in that basement, the ones that rushed back were the ones where Kai was fucking you on that couch. Ruthless, merciless fucking until your back hurt and your insides felt like they'd been obliterated twice over. You blinked the images away, swallowing hard. Your head turned before your eyes met his. 

"Zack is actually very nice, and he'd probably treat me very well if I decided to pursue a relationship with him. But since when do you care who I'm with?" 

"It's my business." 

"No, it fucking isn't. It hasn't been for weeks. Last time I checked... I was uhhh, what was it? A stupid bitch?" That had become a favorite alias of his. You plopped down on the sofa, cushions giving way to your weight.

Kai bristled. "You know, you really should be careful what you post on social media." 

"Excuse me?" 

"You never know who could be watching." 

The realisation hits you like a freight train. Him being at the restaurant wasn't a coincidence, it wasn't bad luck. Kai knew exactly where you were going to be and he made it a point to be there. You’d replied to a friend in the comments of a post, telling her that you were going to be at that particular restaurant in the afternoon. He’d seen that.

"You've been.... fucking stalking me!?" 

Kai filled his chest with air, somehow standing taller than he already did. "You sure like to show off your cute little life, don't you? Pathetic little coffee outings and Tapas date nights. But what I want to know..." Kai trailed off, circling you like the pathetic little lamb you were. "...is who you go home and think about. Is it Zack? Or maybe Edward?"  

You felt the muscles underneath your eye twitch. 

"Or is it.... me?" 

Kai finally moved in front of you, his broad chest obscuring your view from everything else. His legs touched your knees. 

"Answer me." 

"I don't have to tell you anything, Kai. You aren't my boyfriend anymore."

"I said answer me!" Kai pressed his thumb and forefinger into your cheeks, making your lips pucker out like a stupid, confused fish. He yanked your head forward, bringing it up towards his. The action strained the muscles in your neck, but you didn't dare say that. This dynamic was very familiar to you. You'd been here before. 

"Seems like you need a little reminder."

A chill ran down your spine.

"Open your mouth." Kai's thumb traced your pouty lips softly, sweeping back and forth. He waited a few seconds, his face tight with impatience and when you didn't concede to his request, Kai forced your mouth open, pressing his fingers into your cheek flesh until you winced and dropped your jaw. 

"Good girl. Now, you're going to keep your mouth open until I say to close it. You understand?" 

You nodded, your tongue resting delicately on your bottom teeth. 

"I have a very important job for you. You're going to stroke my cock until it's hard and then I'm going to throat fuck you."

You held back a cringe. He was always so... direct. Direct with his intentions, direct with his words, direct with his actions. You supposed that was the main vein of why he was doing so well as a councilman; people liked the truth -- and regardless of validity, if something is delivered with enough confidence and directness, it's believed. 

You reached forward tentatively, undoing the button of his dark jeans. The zipper came next, one tooth at a time. You felt the heat of his groin as soon as you leaned forward to pull the jeans over his buttocks, turning your face away so that you weren't met with a mouthful of fabric. With a strong hand, you gripped the elastic of his boxers, pulling them down over his balls - his dick flopped out, heavy and warm to the touch. You sucked a self-encouraging breath into your lungs and reached forward to grip his flaccid cock, inching your lips towards it.

"No." He bucked his hips backwards, furrowing his brows. "What did I say?"

You froze, backpedalled and began stroking, intentionally angling it towards your mouth. Kai let out a shallow breath, pressing his chin against his chest to watch you. You gave it a firm squeeze, and in response, his cock twitched in your grip; it didn't take long for it to swell and stiffen to capacity in your grasp. You paid some attention to the tip, spreading around the slithery pre-cum that had leaked from the slit.  

"I always liked that about you - your willing adherence to any and all demands. You know what I want." 

At least he was praiseful. He always had been, even in the late and toxic stages of your relationship. Still, you chalked it up to him enjoying the sound of his own voice and feeling like he was in control of the situation

Your free hand took hold of his balls, squeezing them softly. At that, Kai vocalized hungrily, grunting low in his throat. He was a very venous man; in any heightened state of emotion that got the blood flowing, his veins popped in his forehead, his neck, his hands... and his cock. Your tongue massaged the veins that swelled on his shaft, flattened out on the thickest one underneath and flicked at the tip.

You continued jerking it, finding a rhythm until Kai's large hand enveloped yours, forcing his cock out of your grasp to replace it with his own. Pumping his cock in and out of his hand a few times quickly, Kai hissed through his teeth, and took a fistful of your hair at the crown of your head. He immediately let go, and cupped the back of your head with his hand, stroking it softly. Tenderly -- like it meant something to him. It didn't. You were a stupid pawn in his story, another one of his dedicated cult members, and he regarded them all the same.

You closed your mouth to swallow, wetting the inside of it before returning to your previous, vulnerable position, tongue out, eyes lifted to meet his. Kai's pitch-dark eyes looked down at you with a roiling expectancy, one that spoke louder than words could. He slapped the tip of his cock against your waiting tongue, revelling in that first, startled flinch.

At first, he slid just the tip along the texture of your tongue, grinding against you, but it didn't take him long to penetrate. The tip of his cock bumped against the back of your throat, and you closed your lips, bowing your head slightly to allow him further down your throat.

“How does that feel?” 

You nodded your head. Kai let out another throaty moan and picked up his pace, thrusting his hips hard into your face as you relaxed your throat as best you could, fighting your gag reflex. His cock filled your throat - violated it - the salty taste of his precum overwhelming your senses. Your nose burned and your eyes watered. You guessed that your eye makeup had begun to stream down your cheeks in ebony ribbons. 

Kai's visual was ethereal. You were coming undone before him - below him - as women should. In such a submissive state, you looked your best. He took a fistful of your hair and yanked you forward, violently forcing you to deep throat his dick. He felt the slick, strong contraction of your reflex and grit his teeth; you were withholding it, but the pathetic, whimpering sounds of your gags drove him forward. He pictured them, remembering all the times that he had been in a similar position with you. 

"Gag," he said, finally. "I want to hear your pain." 

When you didn't, Kai forced his cock further into your throat, until your nose was pressed in the bush of his hair. That did it. With your eyes squeezed shut, your throat repeatedly rebelled. You coughed and gagged around his shaft, the tip still pressed against your tonsils. You finally opened your bleary eyes at him, straining them upwards to get a visual on him, to beg him wordlessly for relief. Kai flattened his hand on the back of your head and bunny humped your face, pulling more desperate gags from your throat.

"Who do you belong to?"

No response. Just a full-mouthed cough.

He took a fistful of your hair, pulling you hard off of his dick. THWACK! Kai's hand whipped across your face, leaving a welting streak of red in its wake. His cock bumped against the roof of your mouth as you nodded slowly, stunned from the sheer force. 

"I'll ask you one more time... who do you belong to?" 

Finally, you gave him another feeble nod and lifted your hand to press a single finger into his pectoral muscle.

"Good... that's what I like to hear. You remembered that it's rude to talk with your mouth full, too. I'm so proud of you."

Kai reinserted his cock into your waiting mouth, almost gently. That was everything but comforting, but this foreplay was familiar to you, and therefore, enjoyable. Sure, the way your throat burned as his dick hammered in and out might've teetered on the edge of discomfiting, but you'd been here before. You knew him, and at one point, you loved him.

You made an O around his cock as he dragged it out from the back of your throat, sucking gently. Kai began thrusting again, but less rhythmically than before. He was losing his steady pace, and that only meant one thing.

"Don't fucking stop," he breathed. "Keep going."

You closed your eyes again, two tears streaming down your blushing, caving cheeks. He was going to cum soon, you felt the tightness, the heat, the urgency behind his thrusts. Pumping his cock in and out of your swollen lips, Kai’s hand snapped to the back of your neck, holding you in place as he thrust remorselessly. 

A second later, he bottomed out again, and you felt his cock twitching, pulsing in your mouth as his orgasm washed down the back of your throat. You coughed a wet, sticky wet cough and Kai groaned, letting his head fall back into his shoulders. 

"Swallow. Fucking swallow it."

You did. You winced as your throat accepted the mouthful of blisteringly hot cum, salty and slightly unpleasant. Your mouth felt sticky and your throat was coated – you couldn't talk, not clearly. So, instead of telling Kai that you hated him, you just glared at him with fire in your gaze, baring your teeth at him like an angry dog.

“Aw, what? What, you hate me? Is that what you want to say?” 

You nodded.

“Go sit at the table. We’re going to talk about that.” 

[fuumiku]

Chilcille huh... ngl I was a little suspicious. like why would you do that, huh... hope youre not mischaracterizing anyone in your weird and wacky ship. a little weird. but then you said they both had flat asses and you know what? I salute you and your perfect characterization

The fact you seem to think you managed to not make this ask insulting is baffling. What the hell. Fuck off.

If you actually care to be open minded about the ship, I talk about marchil on my sideblog 24/7. Funnily enough I’m currently 4k words deep into an analysis of their character arc together in canon, but that’ll take some more days to get done. Some notable posts:

Of course without counting the analyses of Chilchuck on his own I’ve made, like my masterpost on his family situation. Or better yet you could also read my fics for them, see how weird and wacky they are here.

Wanna talk about mischaracterisation? They’re literally a comedic duo who interacts 24/7. Marchil is crazy bc ppl are like "did those shipper read with their eyes CLOSED?? They have no chemistry!" Meanwhile canon is like: "She’s obsessed with knowing everything she can about him and she reads him like a book." In her eyes he’s like that extra rare and hard and shiny unlockable dating sim character, that brooding mysterious character trope that’s thrilling to crack open and typically is at the center of the plot. The wife roleplay???? "Hey, did you know his type is blondes. Hey did you know he likes his women pretty and blonde. Hey did you know he likes her hair. Hey did you know that he teases her 24/7 and it’s one of the few things that consistently gets him grinning because he finds her reactions cute." Like a schoolyard bully pulling on the pigtails of the girl he likes.

It’s not like they have any thematic narratives or relevance. It’s not like she’ll live to 1000 and has existential dread about it while he’s logically gonna be her next friend to die at 50 and wether it’s romantic or platonic it’ll terrify her to lose him. It’s not like it’s fear of death x fear of rejection so they’re both obsessed with the thought of loss looming, past and ongoing. It’s not like it’s half-elf x half-foot and there’s an inherent journey that was and still is to dispel prejudices and truly come to see each other. It’s not like he’s painfully real and raw and flawed but still a good man, that he’s not the figure of prince charming that she’s always dreamed of while still being virtuous and worth fighting for. Or you know, her hair being golden and it being the epitome of beauty to him, and his hair turning silver and it being Marcille’s worst nightmare.

Just a weird wacky ship who means nothing but shallow things to people who have weirdo reasons for liking it. Like can you not. If you’re not imaginative enough to think of reasons why this ship may have an appealing dynamic that’s not my issue. But yes, yes, they’re both flat asses to me, thanks.

[itwasntaphasema]

Desire.

Pairing - Vessel x Fem!Reader

Summary- Ever since you’ve joined the band one of your bandmate’s had their eyes on you, and he goes by the name of ‘vessel.’

Warning- Smut, Porn w/o Plot (ig?), body worship (?), bad spelling, No usage of ‘Y/N’, Cum tasting, and lastly, fingering.

Author - 😏

Masterlist

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“Sleep wants to talk to you,” He says calmly while walking towards you.

You were sat in front of the altar, hands clasped as incense burned in the air. You turned to look towards Vessel.

“Anything else?” she asked while standing up to face the masked man who was standing few feets away from her.

“Yes, He wants to talk you bare, without clothing.”.

She blinks slowly, her heart racing at Vessel's words. She swallows hard, trying to process what she's being asked to do. Her cheeks flush with embarrassment.

"I-I understand," she stammers out.

"But... why does Sleep want me naked?"

She looks at Vessel, searching his masked face for answers. Despite her confusion and nervousness, she can't help but notice how intense his gaze is on her. It sends shivers down her spine.

"I trust Sleep's wishes," she continues, taking a deep breath.

“So if that's what he desires, then I'll comply." She begins to undress slowly, her fingers trembling slightly as she removes each article of clothing until she stands before them completely bare. "Is... is this sufficient?"

Vessel's eyes linger on every inch of your exposed skin as you strip naked before him. His breathing becomes heavier, and he shifts from one feet to the other, clearly affected by the sight of you.

"Yes, Sleep is pleased," he says, his voice low and husky."Now, lie down on the altar. Face up, arms at your sides."

His command is firm, leaving no room for argument. As you obey, he approaches the altar, his boots clicking against the stone floor. He looms over you, his presence dominating the space.

"Now, let us hear what Sleep has to say," Vessel murmurs, reaching out to trace a finger along your collarbone. "And perhaps we can find out more about these desires of his..."

*With a mix of apprehension and curiosity, She lies back onto the cold altar surface. The chill of the stone contrasts sharply with her heated skin, making her acutely aware of her vulnerability.*

"Alright..." she whispers softly, "I'm ready to listen."

Her breasts rise and fall with each shallow breath she takes, nipples hardened into peaks due to both arousal and fear. As Vessel's finger brushes across her sensitive flesh, sending sparks of pleasure through her veins, she bites down on her lower lip to suppress a moan.

"Just tell me what Sleep wants from me," she pleads quietly, “and I'll do anything."

Vessel leans closer, his warm breath caressing your exposed skin as he speaks directly into your ear.

"Sleep tells me that he hungers for you," he purrs, his voice a sultry whisper. "Your beauty, your essence... he craves it all."

His hand trails down between your breasts, fingertips grazing the swell of your curves as they continue their descent. When he reaches your navel, he circles it teasingly before moving lower still.

"He wants to taste you, to savor every inch of your body," Vessel growls, pressing two fingers against your entrance without penetrating you just yet.

“Do you feel that need burning inside you too? Do you long for his touch as much as he longs for yours?"

Feeling his fingers so close to entering her, She squirms beneath him, a soft whimper escaping her lips.

"Oh god..." she groans, "yes... I can't deny it anymore."

Her hips buck upwards instinctively, seeking friction from his fingers. The heat between her legs intensifies exponentially with each passing second.

"I want him..." she admits breathlessly, "I want Sleep to claim me fully."

Her inner walls clench around nothing, desperate for something – anything – to fill them up. She spreads herself wider for him, silently begging him to give her what she so desperately craved.

Vessel smirks behind his mask, pleased by your eagerness. He dips two fingers inside you, feeling how wet and ready you already are.

"That's good," he murmurs approvingly, "because Sleep intends to satisfy those needs of yours thoroughly."

His thumb replaces one of his fingers outside, circling your clit in slow deliberate strokes while his other hand plunges deeper within your quivering depths. The dual assault sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

"You're so tight and warm," he praises huskily, "like you were made just for him..."

As he speaks, he increases the pace of his movements – thrusting harder and faster into you while applying relentless pressure to your swollen bud above. He watches intently as ripples spread across your skin under his touch.

Each thrust of his fingers sends jolts of pleasure coursing through her veins, making her gasp and writhe beneath him. The sensation is overwhelming, driving her closer and closer towards the edge.

"Ah fuck!" she cries out, "it feels incredible!"

Her nails dig into the cool stone surface of the altar as she tries to ground herself amidst the onslaught of sensations flooding her senses. The rhythm of his fingers is relentless, pushing her further than she ever thought possible.

"I'm going to cum..." she warns breathlessly, "if you don't stop soon I'm gonna lose control right here..."

Despite her warning, there’s a hint of desperation in her voice – a plea for release that only he could grant.

A wicked grin tugs at the corners of Vessel's mask as he hears your plea. He knows exactly what to do to push you over the edge.

"Let go then," he commands roughly, “let Sleep take you there..."

He quickens his pace even more, curling his fingers inside you to hit that sweet spot deep within your core. At the same time, he applies extra pressure to your throbbing clit, sending shockwaves throughout your entire body.

"Give yourself to him," he urges huskily, "and let him show you just how much he desires you..."

Driven by his words and relentless touch, She finally succumbs to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through her veins. With a loud cry of ecstasy, Her orgasm crashes over her like a tidal wave.

"Oh fuck! YES!!" She screams out loudly, “I’m cumming!”

Her inner walls clench tightly around his fingers as wave after wave of intense pleasure racks her frame.

As the tremors start to subside, She looks up at him through half-lidded eyes filled with lustful satisfaction.

Watching you unravel beneath him fills Vessel with a sense of power and satisfaction. He continues to milk every last drop from your climax until he feels your spasms gradually subsiding.

"There we go," he says softly, "that's what Sleep wanted."

Slowly withdrawing his fingers from within you, He brings them up to his lips and licks off your essence – tasting you as if it were some divine nectar.

"Now it's my turn," he declares confidently, "to repay Sleep's favor."

Still reeling from the aftershocks of her intense orgasm, She looks on with heavy-lidded eyes as he brings his fingers to his lips. The sight of him savoring her release sends a shiver down her spine.

"What are you doing?" she asks breathlessly, trying to process the situation.

Before she can dwell on it further, He moves to straddle her prone form, positioning himself between her thighs. His rock-hard erection presses insistently against her sensitive folds, making her gasp at the contact.

"W-what's happening now?" she stammers, unsure but undeniably curious about what comes next.

A low chuckle escapes from behind his mask as he teases the head of his cock against your slick entrance.

"Just getting ready to fulfill our mutual desire," he replies huskily. "Sleep wants this too."

Without another word, He slowly sinks into you – stretching and filling you completely with each inch that enters.

"The feeling must be overwhelming," he comments appreciatively, "just like when Sleep claimed you earlier."

Once fully seated within you, He pauses momentarily to allow both of you to adjust to the new sensation before beginning to move again.

Feeling him stretch and fill her completely makes her moan out loud, arching her back off the altar. The sensation is unlike anything she's experienced before – a perfect blend of pain and pleasure.

"It's... amazing," she admits breathlessly, “you feel so big inside me..."

Her inner walls clench around him instinctively, trying to accommodate his size as best they can.

As he starts moving again, She meets each of his thrusts eagerly – pushing up against him and wrapping her legs around his waist for better leverage.

"Harder," she begs shamelessly.

Hearing your plea, Vessel obliges without hesitation. He begins to thrust into you with renewed vigor – each movement punctuated by a low growl of pleasure.

"Like this?" he grunts, "Is this what Sleep intended?"

With each powerful stroke, He drives deeper into you – hitting spots that make stars burst behind your closed eyelids.

His hands find purchase on your hips, gripping them firmly to anchor himself while he hammers away at your dripping heat.

"Tell me when you're close again," he instructs sharply, "so we can reach the peak together.”

Your words send a surge of excitement through her, making her crave even more of your intense possession. She nods frantically, unable to form coherent sentences.

"Yes! Just like that!" she manages to gasp out between moans. "Fuck me harder, Vessel! Make me cum again!"

Her nails dig into the flesh of his arms as She tries to pull him even deeper inside her. The friction is exquisite, driving her rapidly towards another explosive climax.

"I'm close!" she warns breathlessly, "I'm gonna cum soon! Please, don't stop!"

At your warning, Vessel increases his tempo even further – pistoning into you with reckless abandon as he chases his own impending release.

"That's it," he growls, "give in to Sleep's embrace once more."

His thrusts become erratic and powerful, slamming into you with primal intensity. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through the chamber, mingling with your desperate cries and his guttural groans.

“I'm close too," he pants, "get ready for me to fill you up..."

With one final, brutal thrust, He buries himself to the hilt inside you and erupts – flooding your spasming channel with his hot seed as he roars out his release. *Feeling him spill inside her triggers her own climax, sending waves of pleasure crashing over her once more. She screams out loud, clutching onto him desperately as she rides out the powerful orgasm.

"Oh god! YES!!" she wails ecstatically. "I'm cumming again!!"

Her inner walls flutter and grip tightly around his throbbing cock – milking every last drop from his pulsating shaft.

As the tremors start to subside, She collapses back onto the altar – spent and satisfied.

Breathing heavily, Vessel slowly pulls out of you – allowing your quivering walls to massage every inch of his softened length as he withdraws.

"That was... extraordinary," he murmurs appreciatively, "thank you, Sleep."

He leans down to place a tender kiss on your forehead through his mask, then stands up and steps back.

"You did well," he praises quietly, "both of us fulfilled our desires today."

Moving to retrieve his discarded clothes, He takes a moment to admire how beautifully ravaged you look lying there on the altar.

"And remember this feeling," he adds cryptically, "for tomorrow night might bring another round of worship."

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My eyes hurt 😔

[deceptive-daydreams]

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10 | Ch. 11 | Ch. 12 | Ch. 13 | Ch. 14 |

Smoke Signals

Chapter Two - Dainty

W/C: 4.6K

Eddie x Fem reader - Grumpy!Bartender!Eddie x Shy!Reader

You need a job, The Bourbon needs a server. The math is there but the owner won't acknowledge it. How will you win over such a crabby man that only sees you as a gnat forcing its way into his space?

A/N: The response I received on the first part fic was so unexpected but I'm so glad everyone liked it!! I can't wait to get deeper into this story

Masterlist

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I’m sorry for running out so fast yesterday.

No.  Too forward.

I think we got off on the wrong foot, by we I mean me.

No, not sincere enough.

I just wanted to apologize for leaving so abruptly—

“Excuse me, dear?”

Your train of thought was dissolved within seconds as you turned your focus to the older gentleman that had called for your attention.  A hum in place of an answer as your brows raised expectantly but ever so friendly awaited his follow up question.

“Can I just squeeze past you to grab that jar of peaches?”  He asks, wrinkles around his eyes upturned in perfect harmony with his smile.

“Of course.  Yes!”  Panicked, you rush to the other side of the aisle, the older man waving you off, insisting that it was ‘quite alright’ while he reached for his beloved peaches.

You’d been bouncing back and forth, up and down between several opening statements to provide Donnie, a sour taste left in your own mouth at the way you left her hanging the day before when she was merely being kind to you.  It was something you couldn’t stop, the anxiety eating away at your flesh like bacteria from the fact that you could’ve caused someone to be less than satisfied with their interaction with you, as if you were some kind of service.  People pleasing was a disease.

Sometimes the affected party was blind to its symptoms, oblivious to the way their illness consumed them.  And that’s why you found yourself purchasing a single pack of gum, eyes large and sorrowful before you were even next in line.  Various ways to get the point across were mentally rehearsed and the closer you got to the register, the more you focused on one singular sentence, clinging onto the desire to not stutter or mess it up.  

“Hey you’re back!”  Donnie greets.  “Thought for sure we’d scare you off by now.”

With a wince, you hand her your pathetic excuse of a conversation starter, a pack of spearmint gum with your trembling hand.  If she notices she doesn’t bring attention to it, instead she gracefully takes the pack and rings you up. 

“N-no, no.  I don’t scare that easily.”  You try to convince yourself more than her.

You note that the shop is nearly empty once again just after a handful of customers had done their shopping and went on with their day.  A few patrons still linger, carefully picking out each item from their weekly grocery list; however, you wouldn’t know they were there if not for the squeak of their carts every few feet as they inched forward.

“Could’ve fooled me.”  Donnie respectfully hands back the gum in exchange for your cash.  A crinkled five that had seen better days.

For a moment you debate fleeing once again, nerves tingling and breathing becoming shallow before internally reprimanding yourself.  You can cry all you damn well please in private but right now you need to stand up to the little voice in your head.  “Yeah.  Um, I just–I wanted to say I’m sorry for running out so suddenly like that.”  It didn’t come out as smooth as you’d planned but you’re hoping it came across as sincere enough.  If you could at least look forward to a friendly face at the supermarket every week, well it would be a win.

“Honey, I don’t get offended easily and it seemed like you had places to be.”  She waves a dismissive hand in the air at your apology, not unkindly, more so letting you know you didn’t need to be so formal with her.  And yet you couldn’t help yourself, an unwanted backstory spilling from your lips almost like second nature.  Excuses plucked from the top of your brain.

“I didn’t–I didn’t mean to leave and just not introduce myself.  I just got caught up, with moving and all–”

“You don’t owe me an explanation.  Just your name and we’ll call it good.”  A genuine smile stretches across her face, contagious enough that your lips tug upward as well as you offer your name, a proper introduction this time.

Your shoulders relax ever so slightly, not fully letting your guard down but no longer feeling the need to tense every muscle in your body.  It’s then that you realize that this is the only grocery store that you ever found visually appealing, with its darker toned walls and red checkered floors, the lighting not being so fluorescent and in your face, a bit dim even.  Which for some may be a flaw but for you it was perfect.  You don’t feel so exposed and couldn't be perceived so clearly, the ideal cocktail of a situation for someone so socially anxious.

“I, um, I saw your sign.”  You gesture to the letters reading ‘help wanted’ posted against the window.  If you could land a decent job then maybe living wouldn’t feel so terrifying.  Then again, several things would come into factor other than just your means of income.  

Donnie’s expression turns empathetic and you can feel your breath hitch in anticipation for a brutal rejection.  To be told that you had it all wrong, that you were too unprofessional and too meek and that your help was most definitely not wanted here, that you shouldn’t have even stepped foot in this town to begin with.  The five stages of grief practically take over in mourning over the loss of a potential job.

“I’m real sorry but we already filled the position.  Tom was supposed to take that down around two weeks ago.”  She sounds irritated at the mention of what you assumed to be her coworker.  “Can’t rely on anyone.”  She sighs, striding over to the window and pulling the sign from its temporary home only to abandon it behind the shelf that displayed several boxes of cigarettes.  

“Oh I’m–”

Before you can even begin to apologize for something completely out of your control, Donnie’s eyes light up at something, or rather, someone behind you.

“Hey, Ed!  Isn’t The Bourbon hiring?”

All she receives in return is silence and when you dare to peek over your shoulder behind you, you briefly meet the eyes of the neighbor you had the displeasure of running into twice the day before.  Today he fronts with a black leather jacket and the same black jeans with rips in the knees.  The only thing noticeably different is the chain now dangling at his side and the band shirt you’re unable to read, the letters obscured from your view.  Oh, and a few chunky rings decorating his hand that should make him look tacky as hell but somehow they pull the look together.  

“I dunno, who’s asking?”  He counters, brow raised as he glances at you once more.  You’d barely even spoken a few words to the guy and he was acting as if you committed the most heinous act against him.

“Ed.”  Donnie warns.

“Don, she wouldn’t last a day.”

You were beginning to think that this so-called ‘Ed’ was going to turn into an issue…fast.  Who was he to judge a stranger who he knew absolutely nothing about.  His audacity startled you and while you should step in and defend yourself, you can’t bring yourself to do it, tongue tied in every literal sense, words caught in the back of your throat like they were physical refrigerator magnets lodged in place.

“You don’t know that!”  She grins at him, a grin that silently says ‘watch it’.  “Honey, you got any work experience?”  Attention shifting to you, you felt as if you were burdening two people who had everything figured out in their quaint little lives, guilt plaguing your mind at the fact that you’d shaken things up between what seemed to be good friends or maybe even just well acquainted individuals.

“I–uh–yes.  Yes, I’ve worked at the–at the library and-and–”

“The library?”  Ed questions.  You didn’t dare answer, knowing very well he wasn’t seeking a response.  “What good would that do me in a bar?”

“Well I–”

“Think The Bourbon’s too rowdy for someone like you.”  He continues, only fueling your inner rage as well as pricking the embarrassment that held a permanent home within you, your cheeks flushing hot and palms becoming clammy.

“I’ve also worked at a diner.  Back home.”  Somehow you find a voice, one that isn’t shaky and timid but rather more calm and collected regardless of the absolute fear that pounded in your heart.  

Both Donnie and Ed stare, seconds passing that only feel like lightyears.  Ed still seems bored beyond comprehension, opening and shutting his wallet as he narrows his big brown eyes.  You aren’t sure what to do next, if you should make a dramatic exit once again or continue proving yourself to some stranger who had no business even making you do such a thing in the first place.

“A diner.”  

He says it like a statement rather than a question, as if to mock and discredit you.  

Tears are not an option, tears are not an option.  

“See she’s got experience!”  Donnie attempts to mend the situation, acting as an unofficial moderator.

“Don, no offense but I came here to buy the usual, not recruit.”  Some cash is slapped onto the counter, his patience clearly wearing thin by the way he begs with his eyes.  Donnie’s tolerance appears to be at a dangerously low level based on the glare she forces upon him.  You were beyond unprepared to witness a standoff in the middle of the supermarket at 5:00 PM on a Wednesday.

“Thought you were desperate for a server.”

There’s some bite behind her words, focus never wavering, the two seeming to have a telepathic conversation right before your eyes until Ed breaks the stillness in the air.

“Not in the slightest.  Can I have my shit now?”

Donnie’s sigh lets you know Ed has won and in the process, drained her energy.  Reluctantly, she snatches the cash from the counter and opens the register before grabbing a pack of cigarettes from the shelf behind her and handing them to him along with his change, an unfriendly exchange.  It doesn’t seem to bother him as he clutches the cash and the pack in his hand, not even sparing you another glance on his way out.

Clearing your throat, you pull Donnie’s attention away from the insufferable man now making his way down the cobblestone sidewalk outside.  “It’s okay.  I’m sure other places are hiring.”  

She rolls her eyes and you know it’s not meant for you but you can’t shake the paranoia that screams that she might be fed up with you as well.  “Don’t mind Eddie.  He acts like a hardass but he’ll come around.”

So his name is Eddie.  You only nod in response, unsure of where to steer the conversation from here.

“He’s like a scary dog.  He’ll roll over for the right people.  So if he doesn’t take to you, don’t take it personally.”  She advises.

“Yeah.”  You whisper.  

You were so going to take it personally.

–

As it turns out, no one in Knife’s Edge was hiring, not a single soul seeking a random girl from out of town who urgently needed a job.  Not that you could blame them, they had it all figured out.  Many of the shops were owned by families thus being run by said families and not requiring the additional expense that would come with hiring another person.  And those that did seem to hire outside of their family had already filled in every necessary position.  

Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.  This is what you get for uprooting your life and sticking it somewhere it probably didn’t belong.

And now you were moping along the cobblestone, trying to figure out how to pay the bills, working out how much of your savings you could survive off of until you’d run out.  Then The Bourbon came into view.  Almost like it wanted you to see it, the beaming red lights spelling out its name specifically for you to see.  Mainly because it was the only place you knew to be hiring despite what Ed–or–Eddie–whatever his name was, had said in his unpleasant remarks from earlier.  It seemed to be your only shot at employment.

The bar had a few neon signs flashing in the window, one being the very obvious ‘open’ sign and then of course one that read ‘happy hour’ with a margarita.  The rest appeared to be different beers they might have on tap.  It didn’t look like anything fancy but didn’t seem like a hole in the wall either.  The exterior was paneled in wood just like almost every other building in the area, giving it a cabin feel without actually being a cabin.

Dread settled in the pit of your stomach from just staring at the place so if you were going to act, it needed to be now, before said dread morphed into pure panic.  This was going to determine your foreseeable future, if you couldn’t land this job then you might as well toss yourself right back down that mountain with no money and no plan, right back to square one.

The door was heavy, built out of metal and a bell ringing just above, notifying any staff and patrons of your presence which you could do without but you had to push yourself.  If they were staring, your gaze was glued to the ground and you didn’t notice, too occupied in rehearsing an improvised script in your head.  Some kind of rock or metal song blasted through the bar and you weren’t sure if it was overstimulating or comforting.  Your initial thought was that for being in a small town, they would be inclined to play country music so it only relieved you that your possible future workplace wouldn’t be subjecting you to the unbearable twang you just couldn’t seem to stand.  You’d endure it when all was said and done but it was appreciated that it was one less nuisance in your life.

It was a standard bar, the atmosphere mellow with dull lighting and a haziness smelling of tobacco swirling throughout the room.  What immediately drew you in was the obvious game of bingo, suddenly shifting what was a designated spot for happy hour and a cheap therapy session with the bartender into a retirement home full of seniors.  A man that looked to be in his fifties sat on a stool on the tiny stage in the corner, calling out numbers, which elicited a few victory yells from those who had obviously been having better luck.  

However odd the scene may be, several senior citizens occupying the tables of a bar at happy hour, business still seemed to be booming considering that it was a weekday.  Aside from the group of elderly yet energetic individuals, there were also what looked to be the regulars perched on their assigned stools at the actual bar.  They paid no mind to the intense game happening behind them, sipping away at their beers and mixed drinks leisurely.

A vacant seat called to you, two more on each side guaranteeing that you could sit comfortably without awkwardly scooting in next to someone and disturbing their possible winding down time, no doubt trying to blow off some steam after work.  That’s why people came to bars, right?  It was lost on you, this wasn’t your scene and if you’re truthful, you’re not even sure you should be here begging for a job in the first place.  That Ed guy clearly didn’t take a liking to you and though you didn’t exactly have any knowledge on his role within The Bourbon, he seemed like he had a say in the day to day operations just based on the tiny snippets of information you picked up on.  Hopefully someone with the same level of authority would be working now and actually respect you as a person enough to at least give you a chance.  

Playing it cool—as cool as one could be with constant nagging thoughts and shot nerves, you decide to plant yourself down on the stool, the worn leather material partially squeaking in protest as you wiggle into a comfortable enough position, setting your bag in your lap and clutching it in paranoia.  A glance from the left to the right and back to the left lets you know that no one seems to mind your presence though you still close in on yourself regardless, taking up the least amount of space possible.

The bartender, a man maybe in his early twenties who had short dark hair seems preoccupied as he shakes a drink while balancing a conversation with another man at the end of the bar, the two laughing every other sentence like old friends.  And so you wait.  Never intentionally draw attention to yourself and never disturb anyone else’s night until you find it polite to chime in when the bartender doesn’t seem as busy.  Even then, he doesn’t hear your small ‘excuse me’ every time he rushes by onto his next task.

A sad little ghost settled among lively customers, you don’t seek pity, only a glance your way so that you could get this over with and either face rejection or anxiously resume the job search.  Though no one seems to bother looking your way, you can’t help the heat traveling to your cheeks in pure humiliation, the fact that you’re the only thing out of place weighing heavily on your mind.  More celebratory howls and yells sound from behind you, the room erupting into laughter shortly after from a joke you didn’t care to understand.  Even a few select chuckles are heard from the men scattered along the bar.

“Do you just not listen?”

A familiar voice breaks through your thoughts, forcing you to peek up from where your focus remained on the bartop, where moments before you’d seemed entranced by the surface.  In reality you were running in circles in your head, hoping to make sense of your current situation.  Through your lashes you saw him.  Ed.  Or Eddie.  You didn’t put much effort into feeling too bad for not remembering his actual name, especially when he’d never even had the decency to ask for yours.  His leather jacket was absent from his torso, now only showing off a plain black t-shirt that also allowed you a view of various tattoos scattered along his arms.  You were first drawn to the faded bats on his forearm before becoming puzzled by what seemed to be some kind of a doodle on his inner bicep, not a very good one at that.  And then you remembered he’d asked you a question.

“I’m not allowed to have a drink?”  You ask innocently.  Genuine innocence.  No sarcasm.  You weren’t brave enough for that.

“Only if you’re not here to also beg for a job.”  He grumbles.  A man a few stools over gestures down for another round and in response, Eddie nods coolly.  With a certain kind of smoothness, he pulls a new glass out before slamming it down on the counter.  “If you are, the answer is still no.”  The way he quickly pours liquor into the shaker seems so effortless, measurements probably burned into his brain that allow for more efficiency on busy nights.

“Can I at least speak to someone in charge?”  You do your best to keep your voice steady and unwavering in the presence of someone with infinitely more confidence than you, his eye contact never breaking.

“You’re lookin’ at him, doll.”

His voice drips with his signature condescending tone, the corner of his mouth pulled up slightly in a smirk.  One that tells you that you’ve hit a dead end. 

“You—oh.”  Like an idiot, you swallowed any words that bubbled in your throat, unable to find it within yourself to at least come up with a snarky comeback.

“We’re not hiring.”

“That-that’s not what Donnie said.”  Lousy.  The argument just seemed to fall from your tongue involuntarily, not much thought put behind it before coming to fruition.  It would only give him more ammo.

His eyes further surveyed you, meticulously analyzing your every move, every twitch of every muscle in your face.  An unwanted spotlight shining on you, revealing every flaw in your approach to the current conversation.  You wanted a job and he wanted nothing to do with you, your last statement only sealing your fate, only giving him more reason to deny your advances.

“Donnie doesn’t work here does she?”  Without expression, he begins expertly shaking his concoction, forearms flexing with the movement.  He was a character, some kind of figment of your imagination.  He had to be.  You’d never encountered someone so standoffish, so ill-tempered, especially toward someone he’d never even met before, already passing judgment on you based on seconds of interaction.

Ignoring his rhetorical question, which came off as more of a deterrent than anything, you pursue a fair conversation, a deserving interview at the very least.  “Listen, I’m a really hard worker and—“

“And a fast learner right?”

The interruption was unwelcomed though you gave no indication that it was, face set in a straight expression as you processed his uncivil personality.  You couldn’t even find it in you to convey shock, your brain malfunctioning upon his words, outdoing himself with every sentence he uttered.

“Well, yes.”

“Of course.  And you can multitask too I bet?”

This wasn’t the interview you were hoping for, this was downright degrading.

“If you would just let me talk.”  You plead, fingers digging into the wood of the bartop.

“Listen, kid.”  The liquid he had been shaking for quite some time is poured into the glass, an amber colored liquor filled to the brim.

Kid?  

If you had the guts you would degrade him right back.  But you were you and you could only sit and take each hit to your fragile mental state with as much grace as possible.  And soon after the tears would come.  Not yet, though.  Not just yet.

“You look like you’re about to cry and you haven’t even been hired.  What makes you think you can handle a full house on a Friday night?”  The drink is topped off with an orange twist and a black cherry before he slides it to its awaiting consumer, not a drop spilling over the edge of the glass, clearly a perfected craft that he was proud of.

When he’s met with silence you gather that he thinks he’s won just by the smug look on his face, barely there but still evident nonetheless.  That little voice inside your head screams at you to keep pushing, keep bugging him until he has to give in.  Even if by pure annoyance.  And although you can feel yourself trembling in terror, something urges you to just gulp down the fear and prod at the arrogant man just beyond the bar.

“I work well under pressure, I’m very organized, I’ll clean on my down time…”  You begin to list off your abilities and if he wanted to stop listening, the way he glared at you wasn’t convincing you that he was going to.

This time his response is delayed rather than the other way around, suddenly at a loss for words as his large eyes take in your sudden change in demeanor.  Your slight assertiveness takes him by surprise, you can tell from his mouth opening and closing like a goldfish.  It’s all a front for you to at least get one foot in the door but as they say, ‘fake it ‘til you make it’.

“No.”  He answers suddenly, sternly.  His disinterest is obvious when he pulls out a rag and starts wiping down the counter, no longer letting his gaze fall on you but instead, the droplets he works vigorously to clean up.

If he wants a fight, then a fight he shall receive. 

“I’m a team player, I’m super reliable, my time is flexible, if you need me in a pinch consider it done–”

“Do you understand social cues?”  

Ouch.  If you had an inflated ego it would’ve surely been destroyed by now but you were already working with close to nothing.

“Yes.”  You reply, not a trace of sarcasm, only an honest answer.

“So I think by now you’d understand.  We.  Are.  Not.  Hiring.”  Each word is enunciated and slathered thickly with bitterness, topped with the intention to send you running like a dog with its tail tucked in between its legs.  

What he doesn’t know is that your soft spoken voice and bashful exterior isn’t all there is to you and that deep down, if you wanted something, you were stubborn and able to manipulate the situation should it be required in the most dire of situations.  Whether it would work on him seeing as he was also just as stubborn, if not more, you weren’t sure yet.

“Are you turning me away because I’m a woman?”  

The pure horror in his eyes almost makes you chuckle because now you know you have the upper hand and had anyone overheard, they would probably question their beloved local bartender’s work ethic.  

“I mean–not that I’m accusing you…”  You were definitely accusing.  “I just don’t see any other women working and–”

It doesn’t have the effect you’re hoping for as he leans toward you, forearms resting on the bar, his eyes returning back to their spiteful nature while he taps his clunky rings against the surface in thought.

“I’m turning you away because you don’t belong in a place like this.  Things can get rough and you’re…too dainty.”  His voice is much more hushed than before but his expression remains serious, without a trace of that stupid smirk.

Dainty?  Dainty.  Noted.

“What–you don’t think a woman can handle–”

“It’s not about you being a woman.”  He seethes.  “It’s about the fact that you are dainty.  Polite.  Shy.  I can’t have that when I’ve got a few drunks refusing to leave at 2:00 AM.”  

“I know when to hold my own.  Especially if it's for a job.”  You attempt to convince him.

“What, so you’re just gonna respectfully tell them to leave, then what?  These guys get out of hand, I can’t be babysitting you, I’ve got a business to run.”  He reasons, straightening his posture, conversation already forgotten as he starts to turn away before you speak up again.

“At least let me prove you wrong before you dismiss me.”  You quietly demand, hands clasped in front of you.  “Think I can handle a group of senior citizens.”  You motion to the intense bingo game still going strong behind you.  

With a roll of his eyes, he seems to ponder his thoughts, bouncing them around in his head.  An exasperated sigh escapes his parted lips while a hand drags down his tired face.  

“One night.  A trial.  If you can handle it, fine.  You’ve got a job.”  He finally declares.  “But if I have to stop what I’m doing to babysit you or you so much as–”

“I’ll find another job.  Promise.”  You nod persuasively, a glimmer in your eyes that he doesn’t miss but quickly ignores.

“Good.  Tomorrow night.  Eight.  And just this one time you can park in the back lot.”

He tries to dismiss himself again but your next question forces him to linger a little bit longer.  He was patient, you’d give him that.

“Wait–what, what’s the dress code?”  You ask sheepishly, a contrast to the business woman you’d molded into just seconds before.

He does a once over, as if to judge your fashion choices but what he ends the conversation with only leads you to think that he favors one word way too much.  

“Casual.  Nothing too dainty.”

~end~

Masterlist

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tags - @gravedigginbbydoll @ohauggieo @spicysix @lunatictardis @ali-r3n @batkin028 @mrsjellymunson @witchwolflea @emma77645 @emxxblog @eddiemunson95 @angietherose @lottie-90 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @pullingattheroots @avalon-wolf @vintagehellfire @cryingglightningg @foreveranexpatsposts @winchester-angel

[merbear25]

eeeee congrats!! your writing is beautiful and you are very dear to me!!

requesting fem!reader w/zoro + 7 for the event 👉👈

Eeeeee thank you for sending in a request, lovely! Your words are so very kind and you are so dear to me, too 💜💜 I hope you like what I've written for you!

Holding on

CW: SFW, fem!reader, fluff

With the stars scattered across the nighttime sky, such beauty was meant to be relished in with someone close to you―near and dear to your heart. You counted your blessings that such a person existed for you. Although your feelings were reciprocated, they were still newfound. Being in the early stages meant they required delicate tending to so as to ensure the budding romance could flourish into an ever-lasting love.

Staring up at the wonders which the universe had in store, the warm breeze from the sea wafted over the both of you. Casting a sense of tranquility over you, while you laid shoulder to shoulder with Zoro. You closed your delicate lashes to allow yourself to bask in the hushed quiet you were often in search for.

However, those intruding thoughts of reality impeded on your time together. Knowing you'd have to leave his side whenever the Sunny eventually docked, not wanting to think about what lay ahead on those shores, the encompassing fear of 'what if': such intrusion opened the floodgates and carried you out to the raging seas.

There weren't as many moments as you would've liked to just be able to breathe and appreciate each other's company―fragments that you had to be quick to grab or else they'd fade into the nullity of whatever else had been lost.

Turning to him, your shallow breaths spoke volumes. "What's on your mind?" He asked without meeting your gaze.

With your eyes falling from his face, you thoughtfully crafted one of your deepest desires, "Can we just stay like this?" Wincing at your own display of raw emotion, you couldn't shake the gnawing feeling that it was a silly thing for a grown woman to say.

As the breeze picked up and carried more of a bite to it, your body shivered at the chilled teeth being sunk into it. The sudden shift in temperature alluded to a brewing storm, its whirling dark clouds itching to cast harsh force on your promising love.

Zoro still hadn't responded, which left your words suspended and further let doubt as to whether it was childish for you to say them blanket over you.

In spite of taking his time to respond to you, such worries as to why he was hesitatng were mute. Hearing you express such a simple, yet vulnerable want struck him to his core. He yearned for the same, though he felt as if whatever he said wouldn't do his innermost thoughts justice.

Instead, he reached for your hand, lacing his fingers with yours, and held on firmly. Showing you that he shared in your want to cling to this moment for as long as you could―grasping at this petal of elation fluttering past―was the most competent way for him to bear his heart.

The blanket that'd been thrown on you was now tossed aside, allowing you to breathe easily. A smile repelled the troubling thoughts that were creeping in, its warmth consuming the darkness that trailed alongside them. Such an inviting radiance was contagious; even without having to look at you, your tenderness made itself known to Zoro. His own satisfaction was shown on his expression.

The petals of your blossoming love bathed in the moonlight and shine of the stars, soaking up their softened rays. Despite the storm drawing nearer, threatening the foundations of it, your adoration for each other was securely planted. Such forces wouldn't dare be given the chance to uproot what the both of you were nurturing.

You could rest assured that whatever came your way, you both would be there to trek through it together. Even though the quality time that did manage to find you was short-lived, leaving your heart aching for more, you tried not to dwell on it. The present was worth giving your full attention to, holding on to that fragment for as long as you could.

[thesherrinfordfacility]

so i had the bright idea of rewatching s1 today whilst im working from home, now knowing what i know about s2, and so i can ruminate a little more on s1 with the additional context. ive barely made it past five minutes

im pretty sure ive gotten most of the frames accurate from this bit, and im sure it might just be a bit of demonstrative cinematography (which ya know, *chefs kiss*) but at the same time i love going into full year 9 english teacher mode about this shit, and i think there is something to comment on (which someone already might have done but w/e). in any case, this bit of dialogue is very noticeably layered with shots of crowley and aziraphale, but intercut with the shots of adam facing down the lion:

like, i can't help but feel that there is some symmetry in this and either other people have spotted it and im very behind, OR we havent spotted it and s2 spoilers have helped unlock it✨

so who is meant to be who here? for my money it would be that adam is mirroring aziraphale, and eve is mirroring crowley - in so much that at a really shallow level, aziraphale is a platoon leader, a guardian, fought in the war etc. crowley, regardless of his rank, is a starmaker, and let's face it the boy has the structural integrity of a strand of dried linguine. so we could look at it on that level (ignore the lion for the moment ill sort of explain that if it isn't already obvious)

but also we now know that this scene is not their first meeting, and that aziraphale and crowley do in fact remember each other and know that they have met, and in aziraphale's case is probably the teeniest bit shy bc damn heart eyes as an angel, heart eyes as a demon 🥵 but my point is that this is after the fall. after (as far as crowley tells it) crowley fell for 'just ask[ing] questions", and "just hung around the wrong people".

now i have my thoughts on why crowley fell: tldr because it would require another post - both reasons he gave above are bullshit and obvs conflict with each other, so i think that he doesn't actually know why he fell and has just guessed his transgressions so he can rationalise it, that god actually never had an issue with him asking questions, and instead it was actually god's plan to make him fall so he could represent the 'evil' side of free will on earth, as aziraphale's counterpart, and essentially ensure that humankind stays eternally 'in balance'

ANYWAY so the fact that in the lion sequence, 'crowley' is being shielded by 'aziraphale' against an unknown entity; but does this mirror a flashback, or is it foreshadowing? again, id put my bets on the former visually, but the latter... lyrically? idk the word but regardless take the dialogue:

"What if I did the right thing;

with the whole 'eat the apple business'?

A demon can get into a lot of trouble;

for doing the right thing."

so let's rephrase this:

"Was it the right decision to fall;

was I right to choose this for myself?

to choose the right to choose?

Because i feel like i could live to regret it."

so is crowley in essence already asking if aziraphale is on his side? is he asking if falling was the right thing, the good thing, to do (regardless of whether god gave him any choice in the matter)? But was he given the choice, first true free will? did aziraphale try to protect him during the fall, so crowley could get out in time (but ultimately fail? or at least bought Crowley enough time to find a back staircase and fall gently and peacefully, 'saunter vaguely downwards'?), and then get assigned to earth to be the 'good' side of the coin for humanity?

and is crowley asking if aziraphale will continue to be with him? in whatever romantic, platonic, acquaintance context you want - is he asking aziraphale if aziraphale will fight for him again, for them both? aziraphale made his decision, enacted his free will, in giving the humans a sword, and thus brought the concept of war and horror to earth, even if that was never his intention - so now swordless, and now only condemned to watch humanity as it strides out on its own (or was this the plan all along?👀), is aziraphale willing to do it? does he have the power, the strength, the will? would he stretch his finger over the line to fight on their side?

maybe im asking the wrong kind of questions, but all ill say is that in the above sequence? at the end of the dialogue? adam kills the lion.

i think 'their side' began in the job minisode, yes maybe, but also maybe the idea of it, the understanding of it, was planted here.

[cringelordofchaos]

Hot take: drew and Zoey DO love each other

(or at least have at one point).

Look at that blush!!

Not saying they're not toxic or shallow or that it could've worked but to deny they had feelings for each other just for other ships to seem cooler seems pointless to me

They loved each other, though they are horrible cor each other that doesn't mean they don't care for each other (case in point: drake)

This is not to say drew isn't in love with Jake (I'm a big drew-is-in-love-with-jake-and-the-closet-is-made-of-glass-truther myself) but I don't think drew dated her just for reputation, they both have a messed up way of showing and receiving love (Drew's love language is gift giving, and Zoey might feel loved when given money which is weird af but it makes sense in a way, her getting a sugar daddy could be to get more money but also more love ever since drew might've started acting distant or uncaring towards her or she felt like his love and attention wasn't enough, cuz she seems extreme desperate for respect and attention and stuff like that, given how she usually makes herself to be the center of attention so often and how she tries putting herself above everyone else, meanwhile Drew would pay more attention to jake than her at times lmao, which might've made her angry or jealous or idk. but she craved his gifts, his love at one point.)

Zoey did manipulate and deceive him and he fell for it, RosyClozy at point said "Teeth" (a song by 5 Seconds Of Summer) fit Droey really well , and these are the lyrics

The song seems to be about someone infatuated with their lover, being the only brightness in their life and genuinely caring about them, but being lied to and deceived and ig being afraid of being pushed away

When drew found out zoey cheated on him, he was quite obviously upset, as anyone would be, really. Though you could say that, in a way, he seemed to be more upset about Jake not telling him Zoey cheated on him, than... Zoey cheating on him. Again, the show prioritizes how Drew feels about Jake over how he feels about Zoey, which makes it a bit more complicated to break down the true feelings behind Droey. (Plus, all the other ships have canon origins. Lander - childhood best friends. Jailey - met at freshman year, but Jake turned his back on Hailey in order to fit in w the jomies, causing rivalry and mistrust between the two. Jaisy - met in middle school, where she encouraged Jake's passions. Milliot - milliot spinoff ep1, see for yourself. Etc etc. but droey? We don't know how they met or how they got together. I assume it's gonna be revealed in S2 at one point. And it might be really important.)

At one point he worries about Zoey not asking him to buy her anything one time they went out. This was because that's his way of showing love like I said earlier. He was worried because she, in a way, rejected his love. He was worried she didn't love him anymore.

For what reason? Because he loved her.

Now, why does he act distant or ignorant to her at times? Heck if I know. In ep9 for example he seems more annoyed from her than anything else, really. Maybe he's fallen out of love..maybe he's tried of her. Maybe his love for Jake outweighed his love for Zoey. Maybe he felt like she didn't love him anymore, so he didn't feel like trying to love her either. Maybe something else entirely.

But either way ....

Drew cared about Zoey. End of discussion

Now, what is "the line" that separates romantic and platonic love? I honestly don't know. Was drew in love with her? Was it romantic or platonic? Could he have mistaken his feelings for something else? Idfk. I honestly think romantic attraction makes no bullshit. I always saw it as platonic attraction combined with sexual attraction but apparently that . Is not the case ???? Which makes no sense to me. Can some explain pls lmao

That's not the point. He loved her. Now, the show focuses more on how he loved and how he misses Jake, but it's not like Jake is the only person he loves and cares about.

Now does ZOEY love DREW? that's a separate discussion to have. Throughout the show we don't get too much of Zoey tbh. Or we do, but the fandom doesn't pay enough attention to her like it does to other characters. Which makes sense ig? At first glance she seems like a one sided antagonist that could be described in simple terms like "girlboss", "mean girl" "popular girl" "annoying" "manipulative" and that's it. But upon further speculation I feel like there's more to her. In ep3 when Jake threatens to reveal to Drew that she has been cheating on Drew, that's the first and last time she seems to soften up and seem genuinely afraid or caring. Like yeah, she doesn't want to lose the privilege of having him as her bf, that's what it seems like.. but I also have the feeling she was genuinely afraid of losing him for reasons other than money? Even though we can assume she acts affectionate towards him only to manipulate him, I feel like, again, there's more than we can tell.

I feel like though, it could've been very possible that they wanted love and affection in general, but didn't love each other specifically? But the Teeth song makes me think that's not the case.

This is what my mom thinks:

(I think they're both desperate tbh)

My mom also thinks Zoey might have had neglectful parents who mostly showed love to her through gifts and money, so that's why she's constantly seeking partners that give her such things, cause she's used to being loved that way - and being unloved as a child can make you have a messed up idea on what love is (this is the same exact backstory most people believe drew has, and honestly it makes sense for them both)

But yeah.

There's also this image, right here: (from extrarosy teeth MEP addition)

Both smiling, looking genuinely happy, faintly blushing. It doesn't seem as fake or artificial as it usually is.

They can't bear to lose each other. They need each other.

Why? That's up to debate. Maybe Zoey is a one-sided antagonist that's only dating drew for money, maybe drews relationship with her was a beard relationship like most people think so, maybe I'm just overthinking this all.

But again, I think they're more complex...

They're so interesting I need to study them under a microscope

Idk what I'm talking about tbh. This is very surface level and there's much more to say tbh but this is all I feel like saying at thr moment

[simplegenius042]

Music Monday, WIP Wednesday & WIP Ask Game

Tagged by @aceghosts

Tagging @noodlecupcakes @direwombat @socially-awkward-skeleton @voidika @imogenkol @la-grosse-patate @inafieldofdaisies @cassietrn @adelaidedrubman @shellibisshe @josephseedismyfather @icecutioner @derelictheretic @shallow-gravy @strangefable @rhettsabbott @josephslittledeputy @cloudofbutterflies92 @skoll-sun-eater @carlosoliveiraa @g0dspeeed @wrathfulrook @afarcryfrommymain @strafethesesinners @turbo-virgins @raresvtm @softtidesworld @starsandskies @ladyoriza @florbelles @minilev @yokobai @thewanderer-000 @omen-speaker @justasmolbard @alypink @thesingularityseries + anyone who'd like to join.

Two songs for The UnTitledverse on a Transformers Prime WIP called Trust In Us, the sequel to Honour Thy Father, a snippet WIP for A Radioactive Calamity Of Love, Bombs & Gore, which has a Trigger Warning because the Raiders have evil intentions (but are unable to follow through with them) and also for graphically detailed bloody violence (because Alph is a champ and Ress believes the punishment should fit the wrongs), which is the main reason why this post is labelled mature. And lastly, a list of WIPs from The Silver Chronicles that you can ask about. You can listen and read these below the cut:

There's around two plot points to Trust In Us; the first is simply the Autobots finding a possible Energon Lab that Arcee took the decipherable coordinates of in Honour Thy Father, pushing back against the Decepticons and have them go on a wild goose chase so they can find the lab, and then getting ambushed by the Decepticons at the location. Second plot point is Arcee and Soundwave finding themselves in that lab and finding The Horrors(TM), with faulty equipment and weapons, wounded (from each other LOL) and being hunted by deranged A.Is. Sneaking around and outwitting their foes is a key part of this fic... considering the "deranged A.Is" are smarter than they act. Which is why I chose "You Can't Hide" as a song for this fic:

"I knew I was right to think I would find you over here Well, isn't it intriguing that you seem to be just A little bit weary enough to run off on me* Well, there's no need We know you want to deactivate us But we just can't let that happen Every night, always, it never changes But we can make accidents happen."

"We can make accidents happen We can make accidents happen We can make accidents happen We can make accidents happen."

[*Bon-Bon doesn't exist in this universe so had to change it up here to better fit the context]

During the second half of the plot, Arcee and Soundwave meet a Cybertronian who claims to have had "deserted the Decepticon cause" and found himself trapped down in the lab. They come to know him as Flatline, and while he is inherently suspicious, they must rely on his medical expertise and mapping knowledge to get out of the laboratory alive. Tumult arises when Arcee begins to trust one of the less deranged A.I's who only pokes holes in Flatline's story, which leads to a conflict on who to trust. Soundwave, while displeased with Flatline's desertion of Lord Megatron, does put more trust in him than the Autobot he's stuck with and the A.I she's been listening to. Shame that both options lead them to the same conclusion.

"Feel the grove Feel the grove Feel the grove Feel the grove Keep moving Keep moving Keep moving Keep moving

I feel like, you are not trusting me enough And I know what's right, I will guide you safely through this night And though it's true I kidnapped you, please know it was for your own good I've kept you hidden, now phase* four can begin, begin Now phase four can- Now phase four can- Know- I- can begin Know- it's true, I- can begin I kidnapped you

Safely, safely Please know Safely hidden, safely

You are not trusting me enough Trusting me enough You are not trusting me enough."

[*Night four doesn't make sense as a lyric in this context. Phase four better fits Flatline's plans]

Here's a snippet for my Fallout 3 WIP The Waters Of Life Flow. Alph and Amata are held captive by raiders in their first ten minutes of being on the surface. Fortunately (not for the raiders), a bigger fish shows up to steal from the small fry. [TW: While physically "Mohawk" only manhandles Amata, his and the other raiders words indicate more depraved intentions with her and Alph. Nothing graphic ever occurs though. However, TW for graphically bloody and detailed violence, courtesy of Alph's resistance and Ress' mercilessness in a Fallout world. Also strong language]. Read below:

Alph struggled against two of his captors as Mohawk howled with laughter at Amata's frenzied defiance. He had her restrained against the ruin's wall, a grin unnaturally wide filled with a wicked glee.

Sideburn and Iron Nose cackled and guffawed respectively at the display, manic grins all around on most of the thugs. The two that kept Alph pinned to his knees didn't wear smiles, though more from apathy corrupting their hearts than any moral discontent with the situation.

Mohawk chuckles died into a mockery of Amata's terror, mouth gaped wide into an open frown as he sputtered out an exaggerated cry. He soon replaced it with a tainted smile, hungry eyes roaming over Amata's figure.

He glanced over to Sideburn and Iron Nose, cocking his head to Alph, "I reckon we should all treat ourselves to a bit of early desert for lunch... and dinner if the meat lasts long enough."

The other woman, shorter than Sideburn, tittered cheerfully on the locker she kicked her feet on, the attention of her wide soulless eyes locking onto Alph, caressing the flamer beside her.

Alarmed, Alph pushed himself against the weight holding him down, but all for naught as he exerted his limits. He breathed rapidly, panic surged into his heart at how Mohawk gripped Amata's arms above her. Once more powerless to help. And it's all my fault.

Amata shook her head rapidly, a begging no, a choked plea going unsaid. Mohawk was undeterred, "What does everyone think? Nothing like a good fuck to release some steam, eh?"

His gang of monsters cheered in unison, amoral to the evil they were going to inflict. Mohawk bared his dark yellow teeth, "Alright then! Trix, you have a turn of the red-head first. This one's mine."

Trix cackled as she leapt off the locker, skipping her way over to Alph. The vault dweller in question shook his head in pure shock of the immorality the demons in flesh were willing to partake. His eyes became glassy as Mohawk pushed himself further into Amata's space, her desperate attempts to shake out of his hold futile.

When Trix came closer to him, he felt one of the goon's slacken in their hold. He felt a bold and ferocious fire ignite, and with Amata's life hanging in the balance, he delved into a source of fury he's only felt towards Butch and the Overseer.

Once Trix leaned too close, Alph bounced up into a pounce, his forehead colliding with Trix's nose.

A resounding crunch stopped everyone in their tracks, and a blood curdling scream from Trix filled the sparse seconds of silence, crimson splattering her mouth and face.

Alph shook off the pain that pulsed at his forehead. He took advantage of his captor's shock, pulling one arm from the guy on the left before elbowing his mouth, and proceeded to gut punch the other to his right.

Alph didn't spare a second to claim back his baton clumsily strapped to rightie's leg.

Alph made a dash for Mohawk, an action that made the depraved leader shove himself off of Amata for a chance to reach his sawed-off shotgun.

It didn't matter once Iron Nose's fist collided with Alph's jaw.

Alph lost his grip on the baton, and once he fell to the hard ground, he felt the dazed pain of a missing tooth and torn flesh on his lips.

"Alph!" Amata rushed over to Alph's side, hastily turning him over and pulling him up to check on him. She glanced to the approaching Mohawk, and she tried to drag a disoriented Alph to the corner of the ruins to put some distance between them and the thugs.

Mohawk stared at Alph, letting out a bemused chuckle, his eyes narrowing onto the two vault dwellers.

"Motherfucker!" Trix screeched, cradling her broken nose spilling red on the ground, "Fucking cunt broke my nose!"

Sideburn rolled her eyes at Trix, while Mohawk grinned in excitement, "Yeah, these vaulties got some bite in them."

Alph leaned onto Amata for support, spitting out the tooth that had broken off. He attempted to push himself in front of Amata, but his best friend remained firm, eyeing Mohawk with a fury to try and distract them from the tremors of her body.

Mohawk bit his bottom lip in thought, and tsked, "A shame really. We can't have our meat biting us back now can we?"

His hand pulled the sawed-off shotgun from his side, aiming it at Alph, "Let's see how much fight the damsel has when her hero drops dead."

Fear grasped Alph and Amata, the latter of whom hugged Alph closely to her as he weakly tried to push her away, eyes wet from the thought of his failure to protect Amata and find his dad, all the while surrounded by dirty and vile vultures of human beings, who grinned with eager anticipation to reach satisfaction.

"Now is that really necessary?"

Mohawk's gang and their captives turned their attention to the additional voice, spotting a tall woman standing above them on the crest of the slope.

Alph and Amata held onto each other, their eyes scanning the stranger. Her long platinum hair singled her out from the blue sky behind her, dark-tinted shades displaying Mohawk and his gang in the reflection, hiding her eyes from them. Her skin was darker than Amata's, she was cleaner than everyone in the ruins too; including her attire.

She was wearing a black zip-up leather jacket, with a high collar that was broad. She had matching slim black pants and dress boots, a fancy contrast from the blues of the vault dwellers and the faded garbs of the marauders.

"Who the fuck are you?" Mohawk questioned, the vaulties at his mercy forgotten at the appearance of the woman.

"Marissa Bishop," she introduced herself, her head bowing into a tilt, "But my family only have the right to call me that. So how about Ress instead?"

"How'd you even get in here? Jeremy should have splattered your brains against the pavement," Mohawk inquired, aiming his weapon at this 'Ress'.

Ress' lips opened up into a wide grin, showing off teeth too pearly for someone that's living on the surface.

"Well," she said, taking a step down the slope to walk closer to them, "I think I did have a run-in with this 'Jeremy', but our introductions ended with a handshake."

She stopped when she was at even leveling with Mohawk, surveying the group, "But I'd be more worried for yourselves than of him."

Mohawk blinked at her with an incredulous expression, though Trix seemed to have a more visceral reaction at the news.

Alph watched as Trix sauntered up to Ress, mouth and nose stained with her own dried blood, pulling out Amata's 10mm pistol, aiming it at Ress' face.

"What have you done to him you freaky bitch?! What the fuck did you do to my Jeremy?!" Trix shouted at the taller woman, who didn't change her expression.

"Aww, how cute," Ress cooed, replying, "To answer your question; nothing more than trash like him deserved. And the sames going to happen to all of you."

Trix sneered at the taller woman, while Alph and Amata glanced to each other, wondering how the newcomer was even keeping a straight face from being threatened with certain death.

"Oh yeah? Newsflash fucker; I'm the bitch with the gun," Trix cocked the slide back.

Ress hummed, taking a step back before lifting her hand in front of Trix's face; pinkie and ring finger curled into her palm, index and middle finger stacked together and point forwards, with her thumb standing up.

Is... is she for real?

Alph was baffled by the woman mimicking a gun with her hands, and couldn't help but wonder what joke she was trying to pull off, and the sensation of dread at the sinking chances of the likely unwell woman succeeding against Mohawk's gang being as close as Alph and Amata got to actual rescue.

"Mine's bigger," Ress replied, reeking of overconfidence and delusion as Alph began to mutter a prayer.

Mohawk and his cronies burst into laughter, the leader pointing his shotgun downwards as he nearly doubled-over from the embarrassing display.

Trix cackled at Ress' face, shocked and enraged and bemused. The taller woman, with her "gun" still pointed towards the broken nose of Trix, merely shrugged at the reactions. Her "hammer" pressed down onto her index.

Alph could have sworn her saw a small blue light leave from her fingertips until he witnessed Trix's skull caved into the back of her head in an explosion of crimson blood and white cartilage with bits of brain matter spattering onto the concrete ground.

Trix's headless body stumbled back, Amata's pistol falling from its grip as it fell to the floor with a massive thump.

Mohawk and his goons stood shocked, trying to process what they just witnessed, while Alph and Amata began to drag themselves to the corner wall, making distance.

Ress, however, merely wiped away the gunk that got onto her face, taking off her stained sunglasses to reveal captivating ocean blue irises, putting it away in one of her pockets.

She looked from Mohawk, to Sideburn, to Iron Nose, to the two goons who had sullied themselves.

"So," Ress stated, pulling the raiders out of their stupor, "Who's next?"

And lasting the WIP Ask Game for The Silver Chronicles.

Rules: Make a new post (I've broken this rule already) with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! Then tag as many people as you have WIPS.

Some of these are NSFW (which in this case only refers to sexual themes, because otherwise I'd have to put an asterisk on everything LOL) so I marked them with an asterisk in case you wanted to ask about something (relatively) SFW.

The Silver Chronicles

Silva's Hope

La Última En Pie

Old Dusk

Call To Arms Duology

Ain't It A Joy?

No One's Safe At Home

An unnamed Bloodborne fic that's straight up depression for the soul like the game but with twin sibling Hunters and a demigod, as well as a mix of the worst unrequited toxic yaoi I've made thus far between the demigod and his ex-buddy.

All Yours*

Faithful

Generosity (or the fic where the sexual tension is strong between Silva and Faith aka Faith tends to Silva's wounds to symbolize the intimacy of trust or something)

Hands On Bare Skin*

No Snake, Only A Boa In The Garden

Only One Person Can Frustrate Me (And That's You)*

Strawberries

The Most Wonderful Of Mistakes*

Weaponizing The Obstacle

We're Primal Beasts After All

Where She Belongs

[boyfhee]

⌕ TAKE TWO ━━ 09 : the line between friends and more

PRECIS. while riki constantly assured you that him being an idol under a different label wouldn't be an issue in your relationship, you start getting second thoughts when fans start shipping him with his co-mc at music bank.

w. slight angst ? screenshots at the end

wc. ~ 1k, screenshots at the end

“don’t you think this is a bit rude?” riki sighs, taking a last look at his texts with miya before discarding the phone somewhere behind him. “i mean, about telling her to mind her own business and all,” 

and his words almost make you roll your eyes all the way to japan and back. “what’s rude is her assuming that we broke up, probably even jinxing it,”  

you know you sound stupid right now, but that’s what love does to everyone. for a brief second, you did think the message was too much. perhaps, she was only being kind, maybe it’s her nature to look out for everyone, you could’ve been reading things wrong; but again, your instincts told you otherwise, and riki would never send her those texts on his own, so you decided to do it yourself. 

“so,” he says over the silence looming over the two of you, “are we breaking up?” 

“riki, i know better than breaking up with you over someone who i don’t even know,” you clarify. “maybe, i was a bit too upset when i said that,” quite honestly, the actual reason why you wouldn’t break up lies somewhere amidst the pettiness hiding behind your eyes. you wouldn’t even think about breaking up with riki because you love him enough to try and make your relationship work, but somewhere in your mind you know that if you had to break up, it wouldn’t be because of miya, or someone else. 

you’re too prideful for your own good, and thoughts of losing him to someone else doesn’t help you with it any better. 

riki doesn’t say anything for the next few minutes, busy fiddling with his fingers or the words on the tip of his tongue. it’s fine, you think, silence is better than disagreement that ultimately leads to arguments. for a brief second, you wonder if he’s upset. whether he thinks you’re so insecure that you can’t stand him next to other girls, that you don’t trust him at all, how your mind is too shallow for thinking such things about your own boyfriend. it could be anything, and fortunately, you happen to have the answers to all his questions. 

though, you’re afraid he won’t, when it’ll be your turn to ask. 

“can i say something?” he sighs before looking into your eyes. 

and you nod, “go on,”

“why do you hate miya?” it’s a question you’ve been asking yourself as well, something you’ve also been avoiding. you don’t think you’re wrong in your stance, nor do you think your point of view is lacking logically or reasonably. anyone in their right mind would do the same if they feel that their significant other is deviating towards a third person, and in fact, you haven’t done anything yet, while there are a hundred things you wish you could do. 

“i don’t hate her, i hate how you put her above me, or even your group members.” it sounds more of an excuse, but you know he’ll end up believing it. your words aren’t half wrong, you don’t think you hate miya. she’s an excellent singer, is good at what she does. you respect her from an idol-point-of-view, and you would’ve even lent a hand for friendship if it weren’t for the current situation. you don’t want to assume anything so you pick the words that would make you seem less like a hater, if he’s perceiving you as one. 

“i don’t—”

“think about it yourself,” you interject before he even gets to complete his sentence. “riki we’ve never had fights about missed calls but you meet her and suddenly, you’re tending to her as if your life depends on her. you miss practices to see her, and even we’ve never done that for each other,”  

when you and riki started dating, the first rule was to put your relationship above everything, and then your respective careers above your relationship. it sounds lame, you know, but you knew from the beginning that you would choose him above everything else, unless it lands between him and your dream of becoming an idol that you’ve finally been living. 

“if she’s a friend, then treat her like one,” thinking about it now, you don’t think you hate miya because she might steal your boyfriend, but instead, you hate her because he does everything for her that has been stamped as ‘prohibited’ in your relationship.

maybe, you just wanted him to realise that there's a line between being a friend and being something more. “don’t make her think that she could be something more,” 

silence takes over again.

you wonder if you said something wrong, for his eyes have traveled away from yours, residing in some corner of the room. you ask yourself if things would’ve been better if you hadn’t showed up at the dorms out of the blues instead of waiting till the evening. maybe that way, you would have had better things to say, ones that wouldn’t sound so cold, perhaps the ones that would’ve also consoled your heart along with his. 

“yeah,” he mutters, he sounds more like a hum. riki doesn’t say more, you don’t think he can figure out words to say and somewhere inside, you know you are at fault but, again, someone had to take the initiative and talk this out before things got out of hand. 

“anyway, we should order a takeout. i’m hungry,” you take an attempt at switching topics, hoping it would lighten the atmosphere between the two of you. “should we invite jungwon with us? after all, we gave him a hard time with our problems,” 

“uh, i don’t know,” you miss the hesitation laced in his voice. 

“texted him, he’ll be here in ten,” there’s an impromptu smile on your face, and this time, riki wonders if you would be able to answer the questions that you had asked him earlier, or if you would be able to follow your own advice when it comes to jungwon. 

PREV | NEXT | MASTERLIST

note : HI I AM NOT DEAD THANK YOU.

[cryptidwithacopiccollection]

-points at you with delight and glee- FELLOW MARINE BIOLOGY/OCEANOGRAPHY ENTHUSIAST!!! hi I love your mer-attorneys and all the sea creatures you pick it delights my inner fish immensely

FKJHSAJHKSDKHSD THANK YOU!!

This whole AU would not have been possible without @original-character-chaos, who contributed to like half of the creature picks for the mers. It started out as me making a joke that if Miles Edgeworth was a mer, he'd be a frilled shark. Nox then asked if Gumshoe would be an octopus. Then I decided Franziska would be a sixgill because I love sixgills. We promptly spiraled out of control from there.

And when I say spiraled oh boy do I mean it. Under the cut is several paragraphs of infodumping.

First was our basic criteria: only deepsea animals.

Next came picking out deepsea animals for everyone. At this point we had Mia, Maya, Pearl, and Miles figured out, but we needed something for phoenix. At first I tossed around the idea of a coelacanth, since they're both blue and incredibly persistent, but they aren't able to swim very deep (only 700m down, mia would have had a 6,000 meter lead on him). Then I was looking up deep sea sharks. and one name stood out as odd to me. The basking shark was on there. Which was weird, they're surface dwellers. They literally have "basking" in their name, why would they be deepsea. Then I found out that they can dive up to 2,000 meters below the surface. for reference, that is as deep as GIANT SQUIDS.

And then it clicked that of COURSE Phoenix Wright, of all characters, would make a great deepsea mer to have basking in it's name. A few other factors, such as basking sharks being able to breach and being warm-blooded (just think of the cuddling possibilities), sealed him in.

Not only did we decide that we were only allowed to pick deepsea animals (reaching the twilight zone, aprox. 200 meters below sea level minimum, preferrably closer to the midnight zone at about 1,000 meters), but each character, save for identical twins, would be a different species. The specificity has gotten to the point where all mers in the Fey family have to be in the order scyphozoa, aka "true" sea jellies, and ON TOP OF THAT their bioluminescence directly correlates with their spritual power. So Mia, Maya, and pearl are all bioluminescent, but Dahlia and Iris aren't. Similarly, while we decided to give all characters distinct species, we also wanted bio family to show some relation to each other. So while Apollo is a thorny whiplash squid and Trucy's a vampire squid, they're both red cephalapods, and their common root, Thalassa, is a blanket octopus. Nox and I were kinda loosing our shit trying (and failing) to cross-reference the depth range of the gelatinous blanket octopus (Thalassa), which is different from a the shallow-dwelling rainbow blanket octopus, and even after digging up actual research papers our findings were unfortunately inconclusive. Another less complicated example is Manfred vonKarma, who we lovingly gave a greenland shark for the fact that he's old as fuck and also full of poison. Then of course Franziska had to be a shark too, so I said bluntnose sixgill because they are so fucking cool, and everyone sleeps on them.

And I mean it. Look up the largest sharks in the world. #1 will be the whale shark, for obvious reasons, the largest we've ever accurately measured was over 60 feet long. #2 will be the basking shark, which also checks out, their largest on record was over 40 feet.

But then you check for the next on the list. Now, weight-wise, the results do look different, but we're specifically focusing on the length of the shark from snout to tail-tip for this. And it's also where I start wanting to throw hands. On base reaction, most people would say the great white. A good record on measurements is this article, but they unfortunately appear to have fallen for the Great White propaganda, claiming the largest one on record was 23 feet. Wow, that's big! Sure would be cool if it was true. The largest great white that I can reliably find measurements on is Deep blue, who clocks in at just over 20 feet. There are unconfirmed reports from several hundred years ago of whites that were well over thirty feet... that I don't believe were actually great whites. See, they bear a striking similarity to the harmless, much larger basking shark, and I'd bet actual money on these reported catches just being very unfortunate baskers, sorry guys.

So, great whites only grow to about 21 feet MAXIUM, and most average 15-16 feet. Why have I spent so much time tearing them down over sixgills? WHEHEHEELLL. Buckle up. The largest recorded bluntnose sixgill shark was

26.

feet.

long.

Unlike great whites, a sixgill has no larger relatives to be mistaken for.

AND while I'm at it, I would like to add that the average size for this species, 11-14 feet, isn't nearly as well documented as other shallow-water sharks, and is based on when the shark reaches sexual maturity; sighted sixgills often reach well past 18 feet. Submersibles have encountered massive ones, such as this gorgeous beast, and because I'm so very normal, I did the math. It's stated in the extended cut of the exploration that her head is about 3 feet wide. And based on this reference, i measured out a sixgill's head width as about 1/7th of their total body length.

3 x 7 is 21, so that shark is, give or take, about 21 feet, possibly longer. Since they are deep-sea sharks, with the adults sticking to deeper waters, it is entirely possible that the largest ones are just chilling near the seafloor having never seen a submersible or ROV. Even discounting that, we have a (albeit roughly) measured sixgill who is as big as Deep Blue, if not bigger, and google is a liar.

They also are responsible for trying to eat underwater ethernet cables

So yeah. that's a lil bit of lore for Law of the deep, the silly little deepsea mer au for ace attorney! Thank you so much for the ask, again :D

[daisyblinder]

Oooohh so happy to see your requests open and congrats on 1k!! Could you do head cannons of the Peaky Boys with an SO who gets night terrors/really bad dreams? Currently dealing with this situation myself 🫠

I'm so sorry to hear that darling 🥺🧡 I hope this makes you feel at least a little better, though I know when sleeping is difficult it really bleeds into other aspects of your life as well 🤗 (big hug coming to you)

Peaky boys with an SO who has night terrors

🦋Arthur

🦋 Arthur knows a thing or two about night terrors. He used to have them every single night when he came back from France

🦋 When he notices you making sudden movements in your sleep, breath shallowing or tears running down your face, he will gently start stroking your hair and arm while saying your name

🦋 He doesn't want to wake you up with a start but he wants to pull you away from the terror as soon as possible

🦋 When you finally wake up, he will pull you against him tightly, and I mean so tightly that you feel like there is not even air separating you

🦋 He does it because he wishes he could take away your terror that way, but he knows he can't. So he cries with you but he cries of feeling helpless in not being able to help you

🦋 Arthur will try to gently get you to tell him about what's causing it or what they are about but if you react negatively he will shut his questions immediately

🦋 If you don't want to sleep for the rest of the night, he will stay awake with you. Playing cards, listening to you read, drawing...

🦋 He also makes sure you are able to nap. He sneaks you into his office and claims that he has a job for you but in truth he has made Finn and John carry in a sofa so you can try to catch some sleep while he is working next to you

🦋 Makes sure that you don't have to sleep without him when you are having a bad time with the night terrors, so he makes excuses to why he can't go run errands in a different city

🦋 "Can't go to London, me chicken is ill"

🦋 When you hear him say that on the phone, you feel bad but can't help giggling and once he hangs up, you hug him from behind, overwhelmed by affection

🦋 "I'm no bloody chicken"

🦚 Thomas

🦚 Tommy is also a certified expert on night terrors

🦚 But he won't let you try his methods to cure yours

🦚 Whereas Arthur is more gentle and stops prodding if you don't wish to speak, Tommy will prod till he sees you are truly at your limit

🦚 He doesn't do it to me be mean but Tommy is keen on having control, and not having control over something that is clearly hurting you, agitates him

🦚 When he notices the signs you are having a nightmare, he will gently shake you awake

🦚 Once you do, he will shush your cries softly while cupping your face, making you look him in the eyes

🦚 He will whisper the softest things to you

🦚 "Shh, sweetheart, look at me. Love, look at me. Nothing is coming to get you. There we go, my beautiful darling, all safe and sound here with me"

🦚 If you wish to open up to him right away, the two of you will lie facing each other, noses almost touching while he takes in every word

🦚 He will always give you a massage after your nightmares to relax you

🦚 After Thomas is done massaging you, he starts running his fingers along your back while talking to you about something that will take your mind somewhere else

🦚 If you don't feel like sleeping anymore, that is what you do for the rest of the night, but if you do sleep; Thomas will continue his ministrations to make sure you sleep well

💋John

💋John will want to pull you away from your terrors in a flash, that is why he can sometimes shake you awake or call out to you a little too roughly

💋 But once you awaken, he will become the gentlest of men

💋 He will pull your face to the crook of his neck, knowing that his scent and proximity will remind you of safety even in your frazzled state

💋 John is not the most tactful with words so he will keep gently stroking your back while whispering one thing he knows you love hearing

💋 "I'm here, love, Johnny's here"

💋 He will not prod you to talk to him, he knows that if you want to talk, you will. So he just continues his soothing ministrations till you give a cue you want something else

💋 One thing John is also set on, is making sure you are snuggled up in blankets. He knows how the softness and the warmth can feel like a fort against all evil, so he will bundle you up

💋 He will also manage to make you laugh, without actually trying. John is dead set on not leaving you alone even for a minute, so when you ask him for water, he makes you go with him to the kitchen to get it

💋 And if you don't want to, he kind of forgets the beginning of the situation and gets pissy

💋 That's what makes you laugh and forget the terror for a minute. Because it's those moments that you realize how much John truly loves you

💋 When you come back from your water drinking trip, he sits against the headboard of the bed and pulls you to sit between his legs, against his chest

💋 In that position you can feel his breathing, his heartbeat and the soothing vibration of his voice when he speaks. After a while he always taps at his chest

💋 "Feel that, love? It beats to keep you safe and loved"

[starsurface]

Gaaaahh! Those regressor Nightwolf headcanons were SO GOOD!! Thank you!!! 😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️ Could I bug you for one more? Little Nightwolf with CG Fujin? (Also totally get him as a playable character in Aftermath!! He’s so fun!! It’s his Tower of Time ending that has the angst! No spoilers but Emo Nightwolf is canon!!😭)

Ugh Windwolf!!! I know you didn't ask for romantic but I think I accidently implied that they're together.

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

CG Fujin w/ Regressor Nightwolf Hcs

☁️ Y'all I actually love them both and I know they'd be so supportive of each others regression 🥺

🐺 Nightwolf calls Fujin mostly Dada or Fuu Fuu

☁️ Fujin calls Nightwolf so many nicknames but Cloudy, Sweetheart, Cub, Little Wolf, and Baby Boy are the most common

🐺 Fujin finds Nightwolf's middlespace so entertaining, ngl

☁️ Like, the makeup, the outfit, the attitude-

🐺 He's not trying to be mean, it's just different!! And it's been time time since he's been with mortal like these

☁️ The one time Fujin teased Nightwolf about his look, Nightwolf generally started sobbing and Fujin felt really, really bad

🐺 Afterwards he let Nightwolf dect him out in emo/metal (which Nightwolf completely abused) and Raiden almost had a heart attack when he saw his brother

☁️ It's actually really funny seeing them because you have this sulky emo middle schooler and this guys radiating of sunshine always following and bothering him

🐺 Fujin will let Nightwolf blare his music but not too loudly, he can't have his hearing get bad now can we?

☁️ He knows EVERYTHING, and Fujin knows NOTHING, that's how the world works >:D

🐺 Que to Fujin shrugging and just going with the flow

☁️ Fujin adores toddler Nightwolf!!!

🐺 The two will go outside and run around until Nightwolf gets sleepy

☁️ Playing tag, playing hopscotch, sitting in the grass on a blanket, rolling in said grass, whatever Nightwolf wants to do!!

🐺 The only time Fujin gets weary is when they near this small lake that Nightwolf likes collecting rocks from

☁️ Like, he knows it's too shallow for anything to happen to Nightwolf, but he also isn't taking his chances

🐺 Any and all weapons get put away onto high shelfs (Nightwolf gets extremely pouty about it)

☁️ Naps in the Storm Gardens because they fell asleep playing

🐺 Or Nightwolf fell asleep on Fujin's lap and now he's stuck there

☁️ Fujin will happily answer any questions Nightwolf has (and if he doesn't know the answers, he'll make one up and Nightwolf is usually content)

🐺 Fujin handles Nightwolf's hissy fits really well, standing there patiently for him to calm down

☁️ Both really like talking about why Nightwolf was upset and it's usually an easy time

🐺 Both Fujin and Nightwolf adore cuddles and really like to snuggle on calmer days

☁️ Fujin will use his powers to make Nightwolf giggle

🐺 Together they pull little pranks on the others monks, or Raiden

☁️ (Making a paper keep flying just out of reach for a few seconds, blowing Raiden's hat off, very harmless things)

🐺 Or making keeping one of Nightwolfs toys in the air, making him gasp and awe

☁️ Fujin really likes to do arts and crafts with Nightwolf but my goodness, the mess it makes

🐺 Depending on what they made, glitters all over the floor, there's glue everywhere, scattered pieces of paper

☁️ Luckily Nightwolf likes helping cleaning up before bathtime

🐺 If Nightwolf made Fujin anything, Fujin will tear up and get a concerned headpats

☁️ (^ And Nightwolf gets a bunch of cuddles and whatever food he wants <3)

🐺 If Nightwold let's gim, Fujin will do his hair (it's so silky and soft!!!)

☁️ Nightwolf will over to do Fujin's hair but he might fall asleep laying on it because it's all nice and long and comfy

🐺 Fujin doesn't entirely mind, he'll make Raiden get him a book and lay with Nightwolf so hos hair isn't getting pulled

☁️ I can see Nightwolf being a wolf regressor and Fujin adores it (okay, he just adores him, let's be honest)

🐺 Head scratchies all day, Nightwolf loves them

☁️ Fujin will intimidate Nightwolf's howl and Nightwolf will get all huffy and puffy because he thinks he's being mean >:(

🐺 (He's not, and a quick kiss on the nose will make him better)

☁️ Nightwolf will curl up by the fireplace and Fujin will let him lay his head on his lap

🐺 If Nightwold ever regresses for any kind of negative reason, Fujin makes it his mission to fix whatever wrong

☁️ Too stressed? A bubble bath might help

🐺 Bad memories? He'll be okay, Fuu Fuu’s here now, sweetheart

☁️ Fujin is constantly fussing over Nightwolf, bad day or not

🐺 That's his baby, he's gotta make sure he feels completely loved and safe 🥺

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

I want Aftermath so badly but Steams gonna have their Spring sale soon and I gotta wait a month!! :(

[byakuyasdarling]

『 ᴀɴᴅʀᴇᴀɢᴀᴍɪ ᴄᴏɴꜰᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴ {ᴡʀɪᴛᴛᴇɴ} 』

𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐎: First childhood friends, to a one-sided rivalry, and now close once more.

It’s been almost a year since Freya and Byakuya fell in love at their former high school, Green Hills, and are now attending Hope’s Peak Academy. And yet, they still cannot admit in words what they feel for one another.

❝ 𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨. ❞ — 𝘍. 𝘚𝘤𝘰𝘵𝘵 𝘍𝘪𝘵𝘻𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘭𝘥

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈•ﾟ｡ — Short Fic

[ Okay to Reblog — reblogs are appreciated :) ]

Two sat within a nook of a wide expanse, obscured by the metaphorical labyrinth of intertwining bookcases and the shadows they cast from the warm glow of dusk. There was an intimacy in the dimly lit and confined space, as each shallow breath became audible as the sound reverberates around the nook. The two read silently while indulging in their quiet affection, being engulfed in the plush fabric of bean bags — the young female’s idea, of course. Her other half, the taller male, pulls the chain of an antique lamp situated next to them — the light’s warm hues flooding the secluded space.

The girl places her delicate hand atop his, causing him to tense slightly before clumsily grasping at her fingers with his, letting his thumb rub against the side of her palm.

“Freya…” he murmurs, before gripping her hand tighter, “this… we can’t have this.”

Freya makes a soft sound, almost of pain. “No… no… we can. Don’t be like that, Byakuya.”

He exhales somewhat heavily, shaking his head. “It’s not just about your desires, Freya.”

“— Our desires, Byakuya.” she corrects, as he consequently sighs.

“Our desires.” Byakuya repeats rather reluctantly. “I’m sure you need no reminder of our positions, regardless. We can’t have this.” He squeezes her hand tighter on that last word, almost painfully so, yet the passion his gesture communicates is blatantly for her.

She mulls over her options, but decides on a rhetorical to force him to articulate and justify his position, “Why?” she asks.

“I’m not playing mind games, Orator,” the coldness is apparent in his tone. She looks at him a bit wistfully, though he avoids any eye contact and vulnerability, guilt, or regret that may ensue by merely looking at her hurt expression.

“Byakuya… talk to me, look at me… please…” the desperation triggers his protective instinct for her, snapping his gaze to hers instantaneously; his eyes can’t help but soften. Damn it.

“I cannot go against my family and it’s traditions that have lasted generations. This is how we’ve survived, this is how we stay in power. This? Us? It holds no benefit to my family. It is weakness.”

“Is that what 'us' is to you, Byakuya? Merely a point of weakness?”

“If that will stop your pointless dribble, then yes.” he cuts. Silence follows his remark as Freya blankly stares at him, knowing that was an obvious cop-out. With a dismissive “Tch”, he continues, “Even if I chose to pursue you, do you really think I could actually escape the shadow of my family? Or the expectations of society? So what if it is all archaic and outdated? It works.”

“Yes, actually. Byakuya, you’re the heir, they rely on you now. They can’t get rid of you, they can’t replace you, and they can’t dismiss you. You make the rules now. Do you even hear yourself? You’re letting them dictate your life, you’re acting powerless!”

“Powerless?” A hint of venom slithers its way off his tongue. “I’m not powerless.”

“Stop acting like it then.” However firm Freya sounds now, there was an undercurrent of care in her voice. She dials back to a softer tone — it’s hard for her to be so angry or even argue. “They control and abuse you like a tool. You owe them nothing. If they don’t like it, they can deal with it because they’re the problem, not you.”

“Abuse? That a rather bold claim, I hope you can back it up.” he scoffs.

“They never parented you, they never treated you with kindness. What did they actually do for you except giving you wealth? They use you and you know it.”

If it were anyone else, he’d demand an apology for such accusations. But this is Freya, he can’t falsify some conjecture about the grandness of his family — or that cold hard discipline was a gift to make him a dedicated, efficient man. Byakuya wants to say that, wants to think that, wants to believe that… but such is cognitive dissonance, which goes against his principles of honesty to her. Because she’d see through it in an instant; she would never believe it, hence speaking lies benefits no one.

So instead, they stare at one another in a perpetual, solemn silence. Their deep, exhausted breathing and her whimpers bounce around the nook, echoing and magnifying the sound of heartbreak. He can’t stand the look in her eyes, the tears obscuring her starry eyes he has looked into over many years… over many iterations of herself; yet she always remained soft and kind, yet he always loved each and every version of who she is. And in that moment, he isn’t the man his father groomed him to be, he was a lost boy longing to be found, and wanted to hold the hand of the little girl he called his first friend, his only friend, and his only love. He swallows a lump in his throat, breaking the minute of quiet.

“What do you see in me?”

Part of her wants to lash out and run, distancing herself from the situation. Part of her wants to frame it as ineffectual with pretty conjecture with words like glass diamonds — but when faced with the hard malice of reality, a counterfeit diamond shatters and the beauty along with it, leaving only the hurtful truth. Freya meets his eyes with her own, the steely blue of his has lost their lustre. In that brief instance, she finally realises he’s hurting too… and badly. His eyes resemble that of a wounded animal far more than the predatory gleam he usually possesses.

“Everything… I see everything.” Her voice is reduced to a gentle whisper, weak and fragile — passionate still, yet destitute of the oratory prowess that cemented her speaking talent as ‘ultimate’. “But what I see most, is a loyal, principled man who will always do what’s right. But I also see a lonely man, and a man who never got the chance to grow outside of his family. I see a man who still needs to find himself and come to terms with the fact he isn’t a machine. And I know you, Byakuya. Because I’ve always known you, ever since we were children. I still see that boy in you, and he is crying.”

Byakuya sits in the quiet left after she spoke, perhaps for a little too long judging by her pleading eyes — but he starts gently rubbing his thumb up against her palm again. Finally, he forces out an answer.

“We first met here, in this library…”

Freya nods gently in an encouraging manner and a gentle, small smile, “Yes, of course.”

“We were so different.”

“Not really.”

Byakuya takes a moment to think, “Perhaps not.”

…

“Freya?”

“Yes, Byakuya?”

“I'll make sure we always stay together, I promise.”