#and i was just like 'yeah i know all this shit went down but it's the only ending that makes sense bc they're miserable either way'

[mediumgayitalian]

“You ready, Lou?”

“Duh.”

“Cecil? You’ve got full faith in your cabin?”

“Yep.”

“What about you, Will? Were your threats successful?”

“My bribes went wonderfully, thank you.”

“Then I think we’re a go.”

“Gods, this is going to be great.”

———

Knockknockknock.

Nico locks in on his game. He is so, so close to finally making it through this stupid quest, he can feel it, and if he doesn’t beat The Imprisoned before Percy he’s going to set the camp on fire.

Knockknockknock.

“Just — hold on a second!” He spams B, cursing loudly to himself, ignoring the twinge in his lower back from holding this position for so long. “Fuck, fuck, come on.” He clenches his teeth, knuckles white against the Wii remote, until finally — the boss falls. He cheers.

Fuck yes. Take that, Percy.

Tossing the remote on his bed, he jogs over to the door, sliding open the three bolts and unlocking the chains. On his porch is a blur of movement, hair frizzy and pulled-on, shirt rumbled.

“Oh, hey, Annabeth.”

She barely acknowledges him, focusing intently on pacing back and forth on the stone porch at the speed of light. He settles against the door frame, stretching out his spine, watching her mutter to herself.

“Chiron is leaving,” she says.

Nico raises an amused eyebrow. “I am aware.”

“With Mr. D. To some conference.”

“I heard.”

“He’s gone until early tomorrow evening.”

“Uh-huh.”

“He left me in charge.”

“Probably wise.”

“I need an allegiance, Nico.”

“Slow down and tell me what you mean, first.”

She sighs, coming to a stop in front of him. Her fingers still drum across her biceps, and her eyes dart around, evaluating. Her teeth dig into her bottom lip.

“Camp’s a lot of work,” she says finally. “I’ve never been in charge of so many people at once before, and like hell am I gonna let Chiron think I can’t handle it. I have a Plan, and you’re a part of it.”

Nico resists the urge to groan. Chiron leaving is supposed to mean he gets the next day or so off — no classes, no socializing, nothing. Just him in his cabin and the genuinely disgusting amount of junk food he has amassed.

(…And Will. Maybe.)

“It’s nothing crazy,” she promises. “I just need you to lurk.”

“…Lurk?”

“Yeah, you know. Chill in the shadows and scare people into complacency. You don’t even need to do much, just that thing where you stare at people like you know the exact day they’re going to die.”

“I do love lurking,” Nico admits. And to basically have a free pass to scare the shit out of whoever he wants… “I’ll do it.”

She smiles brightly. “Thanks, Nico! I knew I could count on you. I’ll meet up with you right after Chiron heads out, okay? To give you a list of people to keep your eye on.”

“Sure. Bye, Annabeth.”

“See ya!”

He closes the door and pads back to his setup, shaking the remote to get it going again. He can’t quite shake the smirk off his face.

The next twenty four hours are going to rock.

———

“Swiper No Swiping, initiate phase one.”

“Roger that, Sunny Dick.”

“…I’m revoking your code name priveledges.”

“No no no, I’m sorry, I’ll change it.”

———

Before Chiron leaves, he gathers them all in the amphitheatre.

“Children,” he calls, adjusting the bow slung across his back. “I am leaving now for my conference. I will be back before the sun sets tomorrow.” He gestures towards Annabeth, standing stiffly beside him. “Annabeth is in charge. Consider all my authority transferred to her before I return, am I understood?”

“Yes, Chiron,” courses the camp, some with significantly more attitude than others. Across the gathered crowd, Will catches his eye and winks. (Well, tries to. He has yet to catch on to the fact that he cannot, actually, wink, and instead just blinks really intentionally. Kayla and Austin have sworn him to secrecy.) Nico rolls his eyes, ears burning, and looks away.

“Good. Regular rules; no maiming, killing, or injuries above level seven. Any arson will result in a revoking of dessert privileges. Yes, Julia, even if you help in putting out the arson. It is the fire that is the issue, you understand. Excellent.” He claps his hands together. “I am looking forward to one day of peace. Try to avoid ruining it for me too quickly. Goodbye, children.”

With a wave and a fond squeeze of Annabeth’s shoulder, he trots over to Half-Blood Hill, ignoring Mr. D’s loud complaining about how long he took. With a snap of Mr. D’s fingers, they disappear. For a brief, uncanny moment, everything is still.

“Alright,” Annabeth shouts, clapping her hands together. Nico jumps. “Dinner is in an hour. Whoever is the first to fuck something up will be doing dishes. I will be watching. Dismissed.”

Wading through the swathes of ambling teenagers, she walks by where Nico is leaning against a pillar, half-hidden in the shadows.

“Lurk,” she orders, passing him.

Nico shoots her a mocking salute, fading into the shadow behind him. He barely catches her grin before he dissolves into the darkness.

———

“Phase two in effect. Ready to go, Sabrina Spellman?”

“Prepped to go, Teletubbies Sun Baby.”

“I hate both of you.”

———

“Halt!”

Across the common, three suspicious figures freeze, glance behind them, and then resume walking as casually as they can.

“I said halt! Do not move! Cease all function!”

Milling nervously towards each other, Dumb, Dumber, and Dumbest pause, shifting the three massive cardboard boxes they hold each.

“Hi, Annabeth,” Will says, smiling innocently. Cecil and Lou Ellen match him, eyes wide, expressions angelic.

Annabeth stomps over to them, fists clenched at her sides, entirely unmoved by the cherubic display in front of her. Nico stays right where he is, hidden by the shade of Cabin Eight.

“Explain yourselves,” Annabeth orders.

The three stooges exchange a look.

“Whatever do you mean,” Lou Ellen asks, shifting the boxes to free up her hand only to place it delicately over her chest. “Why, we are only helping our dear friend William —”

“Our dear, dear friend,” Cecil adds.

“— carry these many boxes of medical supplies, so as to lower his great burden —”

“Massive burden,” Will says sagely.

“— and free up his evening in order for him to spend his limited time with us, his most cherished friends.”

“Especially cherished,” Will and Cecil chorus together.

Unable to bite back a smile, Nico rolls his eyes so hard his skull hurts. They’re not even trying to not get caught, at this point. Idiots.

Clearly agreeing, Annabeth scoffs. “Yeah, right. Boxes down, all three of you. You’re being detained for suspected illicit substances.”

“Annabeth!” Will cries, hand to his chest, “after all I do for this camp, you would accuse me of being — illicit?! Me?! The outrage! The insult! The impugn, the —”

“Can it, Solace. Open the boxes.”

Huffing in perfect unison, the three of them carefully lower their boxes to the ground.

“Tape off.”

Intentionally slowly, they run a nail along the edge of the packing tape.

“Flaps open, guys, c’mon.”

With flourish, the trio fling open the thin cardboard panels. Inside each box is rows of bandages, packaged syringes, sterile bands, tongue compresses, and more that Nico can’t name. Annabeth glares at the boxes with perhaps more disdain than the situation calls for.

Then again.

It is camp.

“See?” says Cecil, gesturing grandly. “The shipment just came in from my dad.”

Like a hound dog locking in on a bleeding squirrel, Annabeth’s eyes narrow. Her lips spread into wide, frankly maniacal smirk.

“Your dad is in a conference with the rest of the Olympians right now, Markowitz.”

Caught.

“Well,” Cecil says, and then nothing else.

“He meant it in the royal sense,” Lou Ellen pipes up in his silence. Cecil nods frantically. “You know, ‘just’ as in, like, recently, as in this morning —”

“Do you three think I’m stupid.”

“It’s just medical supplies! You can look through them if you want —”

Even if they weren’t acting like criminals, Nico knows his friends. He knows his boyfriend, especially, and recognises that damn look on his face. He can also physically see Annabeth’s stress ulcer coming back.

Closing his eyes, Nico fades into Cabin Six’s shadow. It’s a quick jump, so the stretch is easy, and the darkness bows easily to his hold. He reappears silently behind the group, taking advantage of the setting sun, and darts out to grip Lou Ellen’s arm.

“Boo,” he whispers.

She shrieks at the top of her lungs, jumping three clean feet in the air. Coincidently, the boxes of medical supplies flicker, turning into a truly baffling amount of instant mashed potato boxes.

“I knew it!” Annabeth shouts.

On cue, all three doofuses turn to Nico, jeering and complaining about ‘ruining the fun’. Nico’s glare is ineffective on Doofus #1, but the other two can be cowed. He focuses on channelling the flames of hell to reflect in his eyes like his father showed him until they look away, muttering at the ground.

“We still don’t have any illicit substances,” Will insists, glaring right back. Nico sticks out his tongue. He crosses his eyes like a four year old. How immature, honestly. “So we’re just gonna take our stuff and —”

“Absolutely not, Golden Boy. Put that hand away.”

Wisely, Will draws slowly back from the boxes, tucking his hands in his pocket.

Annabeth stares, hard, at the three of them, flicking her dark eyes from the potatoes and back. The tips of her worn-out converse tap slowly on the packed grass, tip-tap-tip-tap, as they all squirm.

Understanding dawns on her quickly.

“It’s supposed to rain tomorrow, for the strawberry plants.”

They squirm harder.

“Oh, you godsdamn bitches.”

“It would’ve been really funny,” Cecil mumbles, staring at the ground. “Rain making the ground turn into a sea of mashed potatoes. Like Cloudy With A Chance Of Meatballs.”

“The only meatballs around here are the ones clogging up your skull!” Annabeth shouts, which doesn’t quite make sense but sounds clever coming from her anyway. “Who was gonna clean that up, huh? Magic?”

“I mean, probably,” Lou Ellen says, promptly shutting up at Annabeth’s glare.

“And you, Will! I cannot believe! Where is that responsibility you’re known for, huh?”

Will pouts. “I can be responsible and do fun things.”

“Fun, he says. I’m going to fucking kill you, how’s that for fun. The one day I’m left in charge, I cannot believe —”

“If it helps, it’s less about you and more about April Fools being tomorrow,” Cecil interjects tentatively. “Like, we were going to do this whether or not Chiron left.”

Annabeth glares darkly. “Of fucking course you were. It’s always you three, I swear to the gods. I should have known.”

“It’s honestly kind of embarrassing for you guys,” Nico adds. He smiles smugly at them, relishing in their rolled eyes and mocking hands. “Like, everyone expected this. You did this to yourselves, honestly.”

“Boo, you jag,” Lou Ellen protests. The other two knuckleheads joint in the booing, Will taking it an extra stop forward and blowing a raspberry, both thumbs pointing down. Nico responds with a wide grin and two middle fingers.

“Enough,” Annabeth says, rubbing her temples. “Extra chores, all three of you. Go help the cleaning harpies until sundown. And not another peep of complaint or I’ll have you on chores tomorrow, too.”

Without another glance at them, she turns around and walks away, muttering at least you caught it early at least you caught it early at least you caught it early over and over to herself.

“Pretty sure you guys have physical labour to do,” Nico says brightly when she disappears into the Big House. “I’d get started on that, if I were you.”

“Butthead,” Cecil mutters.

“Kiss-ass,” Lou Ellen agrees, making a face.

“Traitor,” Will whispers, pressing a kiss to his cheek as he walks past.

Nico watches them go, standing guard over the boxes in case they try to come back for them.

He can’t help but think that they all look a little too jovial for having their plans ruined before they even started.

———

“Is he still looking?”

“No.”

“Okay, Phase Three, let’s go let’s go let’s go —”

———

Every time Nico wakes with the sun, he sets aside twenty minutes of his morning routine to curse Apollo, his father, Apollo again, Phanes, and Prometheus. In that order.

He does like the bonus of getting breakfast. Usually he sleeps through it and has to hope Will saved him coffee cake, which he does, every time, because he wants to bribe his way into Nico’s affections. But there is something to be said about camp coffee cake when it is still warm, crumbly on the top and soft on the inside. It is a rare and occasionally worth-it treat, and on his bleary walk to the dining pavilion, Nico tries to keep this in the forefront of his mind. Fresh coffee cake. Fresh coffee. Fresh fruit. And Will, probably, not that seeing him is worth getting up early or anything. (So what that he gets all excited and energetic when he sees Nico up in the morning. If anything it’s embarrassing for him.)

For once, he’s actually early enough that there are very few people already at breakfast. He sees most of the Athena kids, still half-asleep over their mugs, and pretty much every camper under the age of eleven. A few head counsellors, too, watching out for the little ones or catching up on a rare moment of quiet. Nico makes a beeline for the breakfast spread, cutting a slice of coffee cake to leave on the platter and putting the rest of it on his plate. He puts a single strawberry in the middle of it so no one can accuse him of being unhealthy, then ambles over to the Apollo table.

“Neeks? Where’re you going?”

Nico pauses. He shifts his plate to one hand, rubbing at his bleary eyes. He looks at the Apollo table. He counts one, two, three heads — Kayla, Austin, and…Cecil?

“Nico? You good, babes?”

He turns, slowly, to face the voice. Picking at a plate full of pineapple, next to Reika Onason, Lou Ellen's sister, is Will.

“I know mornings are hard for you, but you’re meant to eat at your table,” he teases. “Come sit, doofus. Unless you’re taking advantage of Chiron’s absence to make friends elsewhere, I guess, but it seems unlike you.”

“You’re — what’re you — what?“ Nico says dumbly, struggling to reconcile the imagine in front of him.

For some reason, Will is eating his breakfast at the Hecate table.

And that is not all.

For some reason, his camp shirt does not say head medic. For some reason, he is wearing black jeans. For some reason, dozens of Celestial bronze rings adorn his fingers, carved with sigils. For some reason, his hair is clipped back, and there is black eyeliner around his bright blue eyes, and his nails are painted darker than Nico’s, and he is sitting at the Hecate table.

“What are you doing?”

“Having…breakfast,” Will says slowly. His lips turn down in concern. “Nico, are you okay?”

“I’m fine! It’s — you’re the one acting weird!”

Will and Reika exchange a look.

“Maybe you should go see Cecil,” Will suggests carefully. “Did you sleep okay last night? Maybe you hit your head —”

Nico looks desperately back at the Apollo table. They watch him strangely now, too, and after a second Cecil gets up from his — Will’s — seat, and walks over.

“Everything okay?” he asks, impish expression almost serious. “You look pale, Nico.”

“I’m worried,” Will says. “He’s acting — confused, Cece, maybe there’s a —”

“I’m not confused,” Nico scowls. “You two are — doing something.” He gestures vaguely between them. “As revenge for yesterday.”

Will snorts. “What, the potatoes? Don’t let Lou hear you discredit her like that. If you think she’d plan some revenge prank on you this early, you don’t know her at all.”

Nico’s head starts to hurt. He sets down his plate, rubbing his temples. Why would Lou Ellen be so bothered by that? Why isn’t she here, with her sister? What the hell is going on?

“Both of you — cut it out. Whatever dumbass prank you’re pulling is just stupid.”

“Did I hear something about a prank?” Bounding over from the camp store, arms laden with contraband junk food, is Lou Ellen, smiling brightly. “Whatever it is, I want in!”

“Oh, thank the gods, you’re back.” Will makes grabby hands at the pile. She tosses him a pack of twizzlers off the top, rolling her eyes as he tears into like he didn’t just polish off two and a half entire pineapples and three bowls of oatmeal. “I was going through withdrawal.”

“I’m not helping you when your stomach cramps up,” Cecil promises, snorting. His eyes follow the candy ropes in their harried journey towards Will's gaping maw. “You can sit in your misery.”

“Bleh bleh bleh.”

Nico narrows his eyes at them. Clearly, they’re all in on this — bit, or whatever it is. It’s a little too coordinated to be a quickly-planned revenge prank. They must have had a backup to the potatoes, although a pretty weak one. Unless they somehow managed to bribe the entire camp into agreeing to act along with their dumbassery, and Nico knows none of them can come even close to affording that, then all it takes is one person on Nico’s side before their little ruse is broken.

“It’s too early for this,” Nico says, interrupting their bickering. He picks up his breakfast and trudges off to his actual table, ignoring Will’s pouting. He has to brush the dust off the bench, but it’s worth it to avoid whatever headache the three of them will inevitably give him.

Coffee cake, save him.

———

“It’s not looking good, Katara —”

“I actually like that one.”

“— he’s totally onto us.”

“Just stick to the plan. Power onto Phase Four.”

———

To Nico's great satisfaction, many other people do double takes as they walk into breakfast.

As the Athena table, minus Annabeth, who is likely putting out a literal or metaphorical fire somewhere, wakes up, they start to notice the strange seating situation. It starts with Malcolm, who stares at Cecil in a lab coat with the same expression Nico has seen him wear when attempting to solve the Hodge conjecture. He leans over to murmur something in his brother’s ear, and then all seven of them are looking between the Hecate, Apollo, and mostly-empty Hermes tables with suspicious frowns and furrowed brows.

Nico catches Will’s eye, smirking.

Game’s up, he mouths. Will only shrugs innocently at him.

It’s Annabeth who finally puts a stop to the nonsense, striding in at the tail end of the rest of the slowly-waking crowd. She has grass in her hair and murder in her eyes.

Excellent.

“I swear to the gods, I just dealt with you three,” she snaps, raising her voice so they all can hear her. Coincidentally, it attracts the attention of every other nosy person at camp, which is everybody. “Just ‘cause Chiron’s not here doesn’t mean the rules go out the window. Back to your tables, let’s move.”

“We’re at our tables,” Cecil protests. “Why do people keep saying that?”

Annabeth takes a very deep, very long breath. She has a whole day of this, too. How unfortunate for her.

“Maybe because you are full of shit, Markowitz. Go sit with the rest of you troublemakers.”

Kayla clears her throat. “Annabeth, I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” Her thin eyebrows are drawn tightly together, lips turned down into a frown. “Cecil is exactly where he’s supposed to be.”

That gives her pause.

That gives a lot of people pause. Nico sets down his coffee cake.

“Cecil’s at the Apollo table,” Annabeth says slowly.

Kayla meets her gaze, face creased in concern. “...Yeah, I know.”

“Cecil is a Hermes kid, Kayla.”

She snorts. “Yeah, sometimes I think so, too. But as much as I would absolutely love to trade my brother —”

“Hey!”

“He’s a healer, Annabeth. He got claimed and everything.”

“I don’t have time for this,” Annabeth says, dragging her hand down her face. “Kayla, I don’t know what they paid you —”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake.” With a clatter of plates, Will clambers on the table, clapping his hands. “Your attention please, everyone!”

Without so much as a pause, Will claps his hands together. Immediately, a ball of green light expands from them, flashing almost too bright to look at. Nico watches, slack jawed, as he tosses it into the air, making it explode into a thousand little sparkles, descending gently over everyone’s heads. The little kids laugh in delight, reaching for them like they’re bubbles.

“Does that settle things?” he demands.

Silence rings for one, two, three seconds.

The camp erupts.

Dozens of voices overlap, all shouting over each other at once. Hands gesture wildly at Will, at Cecil, at Lou — trying to piece things together. Will is their head medic — isn’t he? Then why is Cecil wearing scrubs? And why is Lou chilling at the Hermes’ table, chatting with Julia over a bowl of cereal? Something isn’t right.

“Just — everybody quiet!”

It takes a minute, but everyone settles down, sitting back in their seats and fidgeting, looking around with half-confused, half-amused smiles. Like they’re laughing at a joke they’re half convinced is real.

“Who thinks this —” Annabeth makes some vaguely indicative movement at Will, Lou, and Cecil — “is weird? Raise your hand.”

Almost all hands go up. Only a handful stay down — Will, Lou Ellen, and Cecil, of course, but the entirety of the Hermes cabin stays oddly silent, as do Kayla, Austin, Reika, and, shockingly, Clovis.

“Stoll,” Nico demands before Annabeth gets the chance, “you’re buying this?”

“Buying what?” Connor says after a moment. He shrugs, eyes twinkling in amusement. “I’m just chillin’ with my sister, Nico. Cecil is great, but he hasn’t been in our cabin since he got claimed.”

The rest of the Hermes kids nod in agreement. Whispers filter through the tables — first Kayla, now all the Hermes kids?

“If I may,” interjects Clovis, yawning. “There’s an…energy, around.”

“Gods, yeah, I was feeling it too,” Will agrees frantically. “Almost a…blanket, of some kind. Something heavy and stifling.”

Malcolm looks over with interest. “You think we got cursed, or something? The whole camp?”

Will shrugs. “Maybe? Can’t think of any other reason you guys are remembering things weird.”

“It could be a god’s interference,” Nyssa suggests, raising her voice to be heard from the Hephaestus table. “I mean, that’s what happened to Jason and Leo and Piper, right? Their memories got fudged.”

“Yeah, but camp-wide…”

“Could still be possible.”

“There’s no way! They’re fucking with us, come on —”

It doesn’t take long for the arguing to start up again. This time, though, more people looked spooked — more people look to the dumbass trio themselves, eyes wide like they’re looking at ghosts.

Like they’re believing this shit.

Nico scowls, shoving away from his table and stomping over to his boyfriend.

“You are so full of shit I can smell you from across the room,” he says, raising his voice to be heard over the noise.

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” He wiggles his fingers in Nico’s direction. They spark with the same green light. “Want me to switch your eyes and ears again?”

That sounds horrifying. “Try it and die.”

“Alright, grouchy.” He holds his hands up, stepping back from Nico’s glare. “I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

Alarm bells go off in Nico’s head. This is more than just strange, it’s wrong. And not just ‘cause he looks different — so what if he looks different. Will could shave his head bald and tattoo himself purple, Nico wouldn’t care.

But his aura.

The essence of Will, that Nico has grown so used to be stopped noticing. The quiet, warmth strength, the feeling of a soft breeze in the summer, of walking past a window in the late afternoon, of smokey August campfires and scratchy guitar, is gone. Is different, rather; almost blocked. It feels like a cloud blowing over the sun, making everything warped and off and shadowy.

Something is afoot. Something is wrong, and not just some vague, made-up spell like the Trickster Trio would have the camp believe. Something like smoke and mirrors, something shadier.

He watches Will fall into step next to Cecil, ducking away from his ruffling hand. He frowns.

If there’s one thing Nico can do, it’s wade through the shadows.

———

next

[buttdumplin]

The sweet, lovely poly 141 boys and their Spanish-speaking latine partner.

This was meant to be a quick little thing, but boy did this get away from me lmao. This is the fluffiest shit I've ever indulged in and I love it. Big thank you to @mikichko for inspiring and helping with this!!!

CW: poly 141, gn!reader, latine reader, mexican slang, hint of d/s dynamics in Johnny's

Price, god love the man, is the one who seems to stumble the most. It's almost comical, considering the fact that Spanish and Arabic are so similar due to their histories. But there's a big difference between the Spanish he's learned to recognize and what you throw at him on the daily. He truly thinks it's because of his age, window of acquisition and all that. John does not expect to be able to speak fluently with you, but he does at least want to understand you. What he really wants, though, is to make you feel more fully at home with him, and he is forever grateful that you feel comfortable and safe enough with them to embrace all parts of your identity.

"Hola, amor mío. How was your day?" you greet him from the couch, eyeing him from tip to toe and almost whistling at seeing him in uniform. "Sigues rechulo, mi güerito, so I assume all went well?"

John swings down to kiss you, gripping the back of your neck to prolongue the kiss, trying to soak in as much of the affection as he can while also disguising the fact that he still doesn't fully recognize what came after.

"Yours was good too, I trust?"

"Yeah, but my brother called. El güey still con sus pinches mamadas and asking for my help. Aguas, in case he shows up this week."

"I... will keep an eye out, dove."

"Call me si les arma pedo and I'm not around."

He just nods sagely and squishes up against you on the couch, letting your warmth seep into his tired bones.

Later that evening, he rounds up the boys while you're in the shower and pulls out a small notebook where he's written things out phonetically. John may not have all the knowledge he needs, but he sure as hell is good at getting it.

"'Güey,' that's the brother's nickname?"

"No, that's like 'man/guy.' But it's also an insult. But not always," Johnny supplies.

"Fuck me, okay. 'Rechulo' is... I got nothing for that one."

"The 're' is for heavy emphasis, 'chulo' is 'cute/handsome/pretty.' 'Re' can go on practically any adjective," Simon steps in.

"'Aguas' and 'pedo' CANNOT be what they are, right?"

Kyle takes his hand and chuckles, "No, sweetheart. The first is like a warning, the second a fight or scene or scandal. In this context."

John's shoulders finally relax and he lets out a heavy sigh, putting the final touches on his notes of the day.

"Thank you, boys, for your patience and your kindness. And your secrecy," John huffs a little laughter and gives them his sweetest smile, the one where you can see the dimples poking out through the beard.

They all reach over to gently caress him, taking turns kissing the parts of him they can reach.

"Thank you, John, for trying so hard."

~

Beautiful, wonderful Kyle, the delight of a man that he is, is the one giving it as good as he gets. He's the one crooning in your ear, showering you with the most decadent terms of endearment, knowing full well they make your knees much weaker in Spanish. He'll use the advantage every single chance he has, don't doubt that for a second. But truly, it's the soft seclusion of those moments that he cherishes most, when you're looking up at him with big bright eyes, knowing you fully trust him to take care of you.

You're grumbling away as you wash dishes after dinner when Kyle comes up behind you, arms making the way slowly around your waist, chin dropping onto your shoulder.

"Oh, tesoro mío, look at you working away, working so hard for us."

You refuse to look at him and give a fussy pout. He knows it's your least favorite of the house duties. So much so that you're always willing to do almost anything as long as you don't have to touch wet food.

"It looks like you've done enough, cariño. Come join us in bed."

"No. None of you wanted to trade with me so se aguantan," you try to wiggle and bump his head away from yours.

"Come on, cosa hermosa, we need you with us to settle for the night," he pulls your hands from the water, drying them and turning you towards him.

You immediately bury your face into his chest. Can't look him in the eye, he'll win you over the moment you do.

"So they send in the smooth talker, huh?"

Kyle laughs, clear and bright, and he wraps you back up in his arms, gently cradling your head until you give in and look up at him.

"Or," he says, making you both rock gently, "I'm trying to sneak in a little solo time."

Your body melts against his as the words sink in, big eyes blinking softly up at him, "Besito?"

"As many as you want, mi vida. Until you grow bored of me," and you're letting out a sweet sigh as those soft lips meet yours.

His hands move to bring your body closer to his, to milk this quiet moment for as much contact as possible, to sear it all into his memory.

"You two are awfully quiet out there," Simon calls from the bedroom and it makes you break apart with a little jump.

You hear frantic rustling that has to be Johnny, "Hold on, what happened to doing the dishes!"

A chuckle escapes the two of you, sparkling eyes meeting in the low light from the stove hood. The sound of John huffing to get comfortable floats in from the bedroom.

"Just a minute more, hermosura," he mutters against your hair. "Wanna stay here a bit longer."

"Really liking all those pet names, aren't you?"

Kyle laughs again and gives you a squeeze, "Mean every single one of them."

And you happily linger, not pointing out that you've noticed an endearing pattern of Kyle wrapping up nights in the kitchen with you in his arms and a faint love song echoing down the hall for you two to sway to.

~

Beloved, darling Simon, he hides his own understanding of the language. He understands it nearly perfectly, with just the tiniest margin of error, nothing too big to bring attention to it. Overall, he's able to catch almost everything you mumble. It's not to be sneaky or anything like that, Simon would never do anything to compromise your privacy. It's more that he doesn't quite see the need to verbalize it. To him it's nothing special, no need to make a spectacle. Instead, he lets it seep into his actions, ever the acts of service lover that he is.

You're spread out on the couch, on the phone with your mother, complaining, "Como chingan los del trabajo. Me pidieron un reporte para el viernes y ahora me reclaman que todavía no se los he dado y apenas es miércoles."

There was a tension in your shoulders when you came home from work, he didn't miss that. Caught you jolting to a stop mid-stretch. And as the call goes on longer, Simon picks up on more.

"No he tenido chance de lavar ropa, ni una putisima pijama... Traigo un pinche antojo de mole, pero es un chingo de trabajo y ahorita no le puedo dedicar el tiempo..."

He quietly moves to gather the boys as you continue ranting and pace around the room. You're too caught up in your call to see them forming a massive huddle and their nodding at Simon right as the break and throw their joined hands in the air.

By the time you're off the phone, it's dark out and you notice the house is quieter than usual. You move to look for the boys (they can't have left without telling you, right?) when Simon pops out from the hall, crooked smile you love so much adorning his face, and he simply takes your hand to pull you into the bathroom. A hot bath greets you, some honeyed bath bomb already dissolving in the water and your laptop set up on a bucket besides the bath, your comfort show already pulled up and ready to play. Simon then points to your softest pajamas washed and set out on the counter for you.

"And you'll help me with my lotion too?"

He kisses your forehead, "When do I not?"

"The boys?"

"Setting up dinner. Kyle and I are making your favorite."

You whip around to face him, eyes wide and excited, "With fresh tortillas?"

With a low, affirmative hum Simon pulls you in closer and just holds you. He doesn't say anything, he doesn't need to. But he lends you his strength, which is all he can really hope for. The steady beat of his heart and the warmth of his arms around you help release the tightness in your body. Letting out your own little hum, you give him a squeeze and he squeezes back harder, crushing you in the way he knows you find comforting. There's a soft devotion in his tenderness with you, an unshakable support in every single thing you do.

"So you gonna undress me too, or...?"

A peal of laughter escapes you as he playfully swats at your butt, "Undress yourself. I've got cooking to do."

A day without hearing your laughter is a day poorly spent to Simon.

He's almost to the door when you pull him back into you, hands tugging on his shirt to bring him down to your height. His own laughter rumbles in his chest as you cover his face in loud kisses, and he stays locked in place. He will for as long as you need him to, never mind his back. If it's gonna go out eventually, he'd rather it go out from his time spent like this.

~

Johnny, bless the boy, is desperate to hear it, to have you address him directly. You speak plenty around the house, on phone calls with friends, talking back at the tv (some shows have been put on temporary bans, or at the very least you're not supposed to watch them alone), at the lovely crooked cat yall adopted. You shower them with pet names with every breath you take. And he loves it all! Loves that you so willingly share so much of yourself with them. But Johnny boy is dying for something specific- "Love, why don't you call me papi?"

When he voices it, it's a complete surprise. Simon and Kyle both laugh so hard so suddenly that they find themselves choking on their own spit. Price himself is caught so off-guard that he fully looks up from the dinner he's prepping in the kitchen, raw chicken slipping out of his hands and plopping back into the flour bowl. You at first laugh it off lightly, thinking it was one of his cutesy jokes he makes to get a giggle out of everyone. That would have made the most sense, honestly. But when he looks away, big blue eyes shining with the softest hint of embarrassment, it sinks in.

You shift in your seat a fraction, "Johnny, I don't even call any of you that in English. You know it's not exactly the same thing, right?"

"I know but the little old lady from the corner shop calls me "papi" and so does the older man who brings the water and other people too and it's always so affectionate and so I thought..."

He spares a glance at you, hoping he hasn't completely overstepped.

"Where did this come from?"

"Ale let it slip last time we grabbed coffee and the joy on Rudy's face was so blinding that I thought maybe we should try it."

"Honey--"

"Please, just once."

"But I--"

"It doesn't have to be a title! It can be soft and casual, no expectations."

"You don't--"

"I promise I'll be good for it."

Oh.

Your gaze meets the other boys' and you all take a good look at your Johnny. At some point during his pleading he brought himself down to kneel in front of you. His broad shoulders are slumped forward in submission, his hands clenched together so tightly his fingertips are completely white. Price nods at you, the other two eagerly nodding along as well.

Leaning forward, you grab him by the jaw, gently bringing his head to rest against your thigh.

Running your fingers through his hair, you utter out a low, "Sweet little thing like you just wants to be good, don't you papi?"

Johnny's eyes glaze over slightly, a shy, dazed smile growing on his face. There's not an ounce of hesitation in him as he nuzzles his face into your thigh, just sweet elation. Pleased grumbles escape the others, making Johnny's smile grow bigger.

You make sure to add it into your regular circulation.

[moonstruckme]

hi!! ngl i’ve never actually requested anything so im kinda nervous to do so but if it’s possible, do you think you could write something along the lines of eddie munson with like an anxious reader? maybe she has a panic attack and he’s there to help in the aftermath or just an overall anxious person. i know you’ve written something similar with the marauders so i hope that this is okay for me to request. i love love love ur writing!

Thank you for requesting lovely <3

cw: aftermath of panic attack

Eddie Munson x fem!reader ♡ 642 words

Eddie’s rambling hasn’t stopped since you sat down, but it’s become background noise for you, like ocean sounds or the music they play in grocery stores. You know well enough how to get yourself through this. His hand on your back is a steady, if somewhat frantic, reassurance. 

“You okay?” Eddie asks, his rhythm slowing as you blow out a lungful of air, bending your head towards your knees. You hold up a weak thumbs-up, and it picks up again. “Shit, yeah, you’re okay, baby. You’ve got it.” 

You feel bad that this is Eddie’s first time dealing with you like this, though it’s nice to be in his trailer and not at the mall or in a restaurant or something. His couch is familiarly uncomfortable, lumpy in places and nearly flat in others, and the air smells like weed and grease, the electric fan Wayne brings out for the summer months whirring diligently in the corner. You’re glad Wayne’s not home now, though someone should probably be around to comfort Eddie after he’s done comforting you. 

“Anything I can do to help?” he asks again. “You want some water or something?” 

This time, you nod. Your boyfriend all but springs up from the couch, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and hustling it back to you like he’s training to be one of the NASCAR pit stop people. You take it from him, rubbing the condensation from the bottle on the back of your neck before taking a sip. The chill is grounding. You rest your head back on your knees.

“You feeling better, sweetheart?” Eddie grabs another water bottle from the fridge once he sees what you did with the first, holding it to your neck. “You seem better. Sounding less like Darth Vader.” 

You laugh a little, and he laughs back nervously. 

“Yeah,” you say, “it’s mostly better now.” 

He blows out a breath. “Phew, okay. Jesus. You’re a fucking champ, you know that?” 

“Thanks,” you chuckle. “Sorry I put you through that.” 

“I’m pretty sure I’m not the one who went through something just now, so consider your apology heard and nullified.” Eddie’s lips come down on the back of your head. “I’d tell you where to shove it, but I’m feeling kind of bad for you right now. Count your blessings.” 

“Oh, I’m counting them.” You smile down into the semi-dark valley between your legs and chest, taking one more deep breath in and out before lifting your head. “Okay, I’m good.” 

“Yeah?” As he pulls back to see you, your boyfriend doesn’t look so sure. His eyebrows are pulled up in the middle, freakishly huge eyes full of freakishly sweet worry. “Good enough for a hug?” 

You hum your assent, and in the next second you’re in his lap. Eddie goes all the way, curving his body over yours as his arms wrap protectively around your back and his cheek squishes into yours. 

“It scares me when you’re scared,” he admits. 

“Sorry.”

“No—goddamnit, what did we say about that? You’re lucky you’re cute, I swear—don’t be sorry. Obviously it’s not your fault, I’m just sorry that happened to you. It seemed really fucking shitty.” 

“It felt really fucking shitty,” you agree. “I’m wiped.” 

“Honestly? Me too.” Eddie chuckles. “Nap?” 

“Yes, please,” you say, but wriggle closer to him, preventing him from getting up. Eddie doesn’t seem to mind. He starts rubbing your back again, contemplative. 

“You wanna sleep here, or on the bed?” 

“Bed,” you answer immediately. 

“...right. But are you gonna get up and go to the bed?” 

You make a thoughtful humming sound, grasping him tighter. “Probably not. Maybe you could carry me?” 

A sigh, long and dramatic. “Yeah, maybe I could.” Eddie’s hands move to grip you more securely, and he grunts as he stands. “You’re seriously lucky you’re cute, trouble.” 

[daddyslilchickenfingers2]

Face Sitting (Chris)

Request: reader rides chris’ face for the first time and he ends up shooting his load all over himself because it was so hot to him and her dirty talking was getting to him and everything was just so hot then the reader grinds against his stomach/chest using his cum to slide back and forth and end up cumming on him again while he jerks off because it’s hot to him

Warnings: short, plus sized reader, oral (m/f receiving), stomach riding, jerking off, slight degradation if you squint, cumming untouched, dom!chris

Y/n’s Pov

It had been a long and stressful day for both me and Chris for separate reasons. We were both extremely relieved to finally be able to just chill at my apartment for the rest of the evening without any more stress. Currently, we were lying in bed, Chris had his head on my stomach as I played with his hair. “Hey babe?” Chris asked, “Yes?” “Can we try something new? I’m hornyyyyy!” he whined. He rolled his head to look up at me with a pouty face, “What do you wanna try?” I asked intrigued, “I want you to sit on my goddamn face.” he groaned out.

I was pretty surprised he said that considering I’m not exactly some skinny bitch, but I was also skeptical because of that. “I don’t know, I don’t want to like crush you.” I told him, Chris laughed before saying “You’re not gonna crush me ya goof!” I gave him an unamused look, causing him to stop laughing.

“I’m serious, I really want you to sit on my face. Please, it sounds so hot!” he begged again, “Okay, I guess we can try it.” I told him. Within seconds, Chris was on top of me, harshly pressing his lips against mine, causing me to let out a surprised moan. He pulled away to slide off my shirt, now leaving me in only my panties as I wasn’t wearing any pants.

Almost instantaneously, Chris pulled off his sweatpants and boxers in one go before taking off my panties as well. He flipped us over so I was now on top, helping me rock my hips against his for a minute, spreading my wetness across his already hard cock. Chris laid back before sliding me up to his stomach “Ride my fucking face like a slut!” he growled, moving us both so I was now hovering over his face.

Chris pulled me down onto his face, groaning at the taste as he ran his tongue through my folds. I was trying my best not to put my full weight on him as he started harshly suck on my clit, but Chris didn’t like that. He immediately pulled me all the way down on his face before harshly grabbing my chin, forcing me to look at him.

After sending me a wink, he went back to sucking on my clit but quickly switched to giving it little licks before flicking it with his tongue. I had one hand on the headboard while the other slipped down to grab his hand, “Oh fuck, Chris- mhmm! F-Feels so good!” I whined out.

Chris let out another groan against me when he stuck his tongue into my hole and swirling it around. This made me buck my hips forward slightly causing him to let out an extremely whiny, needy moan. “S-So good! Such a good boy for me!” I moaned, causing Chris to start fucking into me with his tongue.

He brought his hands up towards my waist to make me grind against his face before bringing one hand up to choke me. I let out an extremely loud moan when he squeezed my throat harder and started sucking at my entrance, “Fuck! So c-close, gonna cum all over your pretty face!” I cried out.

Chris slapped my ass, making me realize I was now grinding on his face without his help anymore. He let out deep growl as I started to move my hips a bit faster, moaning loudly when I felt myself cum. “Oh shit- yeah, right there! Fuck, Chris- you’re s-so good!” I whined out, after I came down from my high Chris helped me moved down towards his stomach.

I didn’t really register the fact that his stomach was wet since I was still a bit dazed from my high. I looked down at him to see him breathing heavily and smiling with a fucked out expression, “Holy fuck, that was so hot! You literally just made me cum all over myself without even touching me!” he panted out.

His face was still wet with my cum but his expression was something else, he looked so hot right now. I let out another whine when his hands on my hips made me slide down his stomach a bit more as it stimulated my sensitive clit a little. Chris experimentally rocked me back and forth on his stomach a bit, groaning at the why I could easily move thanks to his cum.

“Ride my stomach, c’mon make yourself cum again like a slut.” he demanded, making me grind onto him hard. I’ll admit this was a new feeling but it felt amazing, “Spit in my hand for me babe.” Chris told me, making me a bit confused but nonetheless I complied. My confusion was quickly replaced with shock when I hear the sound of his slick hand rubbing his cock. “Are you really jerking off right now?” I question with a giggle.

Chris’ hand came up to grip my throat again, “Shut the fuck up and grind your needy little pussy against me!” he growled as we both sped up our movements. I quickly felt my high approach and before I knew it, I was cumming all over his stomach. I immediately got off of him and went down to suck his cock, harshly sucking on the head while massaging his balls.

His hands came to push my head all the way down on his cock before letting out a deep groan and cumming down my throat. I pulled off with a pop before looking up at him and licking the mixture of our cum off of his stomach. I licked all the way up to his mouth before making out with him. Chris groaned as he tasted the cum on my tongue before he flipped up over.

We lazily and sloppily made out until he pulled away “Open.” he demanded while grabbing onto my chin. I complied and immediately let out a whine when he spit into my mouth, “Swallow slut.” he growled, I did as he said and stuck my tongue out to show him I listened. “Good girl, always listen to me so well. Now let’s go get cleaned up my love.” he said helping me up, we took a quick shower and changed into new pajamas.

Once we were done, we went back to the bedroom, Chris changed the sheets before we laid down. I cuddled into his side, “The was definitely something fun, I love you handsome.” I told Chris while stroking his hair. “Oh yeah, we’re totally fucking doing that again. That was an amazing experience, thank you for trying it out with me. I love you more angel.” he replied back, placing a kiss on my neck before we slowly drifted off to sleep. We were now both content with the outcome of or say since it felt like the stress had basically felted away.

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[cute-sucker]

note: thank you @.princessbrunette for creating boxer!rafe !!

˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.

you clutched the pregnancy test, clammy hands shaking as you felt more scared than ever. rafe was still in his match, and you- you were forbidden from coming to his matches. the last time you came his opponent had made a pass at you after rafe brutally beat him. 

the guy plummeted to the ground before he could utter another word, and rafe decided that enough was enough. so he sat you down, in your little cameo shorts and baby white tee. your thick lashes battered as he tried to come out the truth. the two of you were in the completely vacant locker room. 

"listen, kid, i don't think you should come to my matches anymore," he said gently, as you gripped his arm. you had a sweet expression on your face before you heard what he had said - quickly wilting as you frowned at him. before you could open your mouth he had already cupped your face as softly as he could.

his hands were rough and warm on your face, you could smell the brutality on them, yet you felt yourself at ease in his embrace. you could never admit it - but rafe had some control over you that you could never explain. 

"i know you're going to say it's your calling," he quipped, leaning in closer. his hot breath fanned your neck, as his mouth nipped at your cheek, "but baby i don't think this place is good for you." you felt yourself unwind and opened your mouth to blubber something. 

you finally gasped out, "but i wanna see you!" 

he groaned, steady hand moving down to your waist. there was an amused expression on his face, but he stayed firm. 

"rafe? please." 

"no."

that was it. so you got another job, and later on, rafe told you to stay at tanyhill with him. you were overjoyed that you would get to see him more and that he was being so gracious. all the girls in the ring had told you he was a playboy and nothing more than that. and you would never tell rafe but it was nice not being a ring girl. sure it was a way to get money fast, but your thighs ached from the amount of times you shined and plucked them.

but it wasn't just that. it was also the dark humid lights that dawned upon you, and trotting while people eyed you like a piece of meat. and now, you felt free, and while rafe would never understand why you chose it - you were a waitress. 

the owner, delany liked you, so she didn't give you a hard time about anything. it was a cafe where time seemed to slow and it was as if nothing could go wrong. you got up early in the morning, giving rafe a goodbye kiss while he was in bed as he groaned about you leaving so early. you took life at strides. things were great. 

but here it was. a sign that maybe everything was going to go to shit. be fine. your heartbeat quickened and you could barely breath - that was when you knew it was going to be bad. you could barely imagine yourself pregnant. 

how old were you? 25? yeah, that was too young and quite frankly did rafe even want a baby? sure he mentioned it sometimes, when you went to baby showers and cooed a baby clothes. but would he-? it was another mouth to feed and god you didn't know if you could support that. rafe, sure, but if he left you? and it was an actual human being to love.

finally, you found yourself rushing out of the bathroom. you had to tell him now, as your heart was on fire, and your hands were stinging. quickly you gathered your stuff and headed over to delany. 

"i have to go." 

˚❀༉‧₊˚.

the ring was the same as usual. the same musty smell, and that feeling of everything being possible. you weren't recognised - though you did see a couple of familiar faces in the crowd. but you weren't here to chit-chat. 

urgency drummed through your veins as you found rafe. 12:35. it was almost time for his first match, and you couldn't dump on him like that. no, you really could there was this feeling. this feeling that ran through you like wildfire as you stumbled to him. 

he looked good, better than good, but he looked alarmed as you twisted yourself around his body. 

"hey, hey kid," he laughed at you furiously hugging his middle, "i love that you're here but i told you about visiting me, didn't i? we had this conversation-" he was stopped right there as you kissed him, cupping his face. he was out of breath, pupils dilated when it finally set in. 

maybe he saw the way you sweet doe eyes were welling up with tears, or the way you swayed in his arms as if he let you go you could crumble, or the way you were trying to mouth words, but nothing was coming out of your mouth. he furiously swore under his breath, and pulled you along with him - you followed like a puppy. 

the dim lights of the corner he had pulled you in soothed your state. no longer did your skin ich, but your head still pounded. rafe looked down at you with a worried expression, as he rubbed your back. you were still holding on to him, wide-eyed. 

"hey?" he snapped his fingers, "can't be doing that here. not right now. what's wrong?" he asked harshly, and you shook your head, completely nonverbal. he raised a hand through his buzzed hair, concern evident in his eyes. whenever you got like this- which was never he had to remind himself to be gentle. 

finally, he dropped himself, voice quiet. he didn't care if people saw him like this- all vulnerable. "sweets are you okay?" he probed again. finally with trembling hands, you reached out into your bag to get the pregnancy test- and broke into tears. the two double lines spread fear throughout his heart. 

rafe had changed. that was a fact, he no longer was plagued by his fathers words as much as before. but could he be a father? suddenly he looked down at you, wispy lashes wet, and doe eyes pleading. suddenly, he felt something blossom in his heart. he imagined you running around in tannyhil, round with his kid. you would be wearing a pretty sun dress, as laughter rang through you. 

finally, he closed his eyes, "it's gonna be okay." 

you seemed to take that as a bad sign, gasping out muffled words, "no, rafe, i didn't know what was going to happen, please-" your hand reached out for his, hoping that things were going to be okay. 

rafe was still looking at the test, as he closed and opened his mouth before shaking his hand, "we're gonna get married, all right? yeah, and i want you to stay here with me. 'cause i need you here." he said tapping your head. there was a watery smile on your face, as you jumped into his arms. 

he held you tightly, and you sniffed. before letting go of him to look into his eyes. it was at that moment that you realised how much he loved you. when he's staring at you like you are his world, and his steel eyes are soft. when his eyes are welling up with tears. 

"just really happy and shit," he chuckled, "i can't believe this," he murmured out before pressing his lips on yours. finally, he pulled apart from you, still gazing into your eyes. 

 "you should go," you found yourself whispering out "it's time for your match." yet your hand found a deathly hold on him. t

you saw him smile, and give you a peck on the lips, "want you to watch, 'kay? i'm fighting this match for you," and then his hands travelled down to your stomach, "you and baby." 

dazed you watched him step up into the ring and sighed. if this was love, you'd fight for it any day. 

[oldhalloweentape]

🪨Venture (OW II) x (gn) reader ⛏️

(Love Language Pt. II Edition!)

(Not my picture!)

(Here’s Pt. II, I’ll try to get a crack on the other pieces I’m planning on doing soon! For now, enjoy this!)

Their love language: Physical Touch, Quality Time, Gift Giving, and Words of Affirmation (Pt. I here!)

Gift Giving

- Alright so, we all know that presence of Venture is a gift itself, they also love giving you other gifts. This love language is the most obvious one when it comes to Venture, they just love giving things to people.

- And, you being their number one you’re no exception, you get the most stuff in all honesty.

- The amount of rock kids you guys have alone tells all you need to know.

- Their gifts specifically either hold a lot of sentimental value, or they saw it and went, “Yeah, reader would like that.”

- They take mental note of everything you like, even the littlest of things, like if you walk past a shop and something catches your eye, something unnoticeable for most, but to them? They’ll come back later to see if they can get it for you.

- Overthinks about what to get you when it comes to special gifts for the holidays, with Valentine’s Day, the day dedicated to stuff like this being the perfect example.

- They just want to give you something that you like, what you’d get use from however you see fit, and something that signifies how much they care for you and that’s reasonably a very hard thing to do.

- But also, they love receiving stuff from you in return, they do not care what it is, but the idea of you taking time to get them something is just so wonderful to them.

- Though it’s definitely a bonus if it’s based on the things they like, for example, new expedition tools, camping gear, hell even their favorite ice cream.

- Eventually, it gets to a point where you guys have specific spots at your places dedicated to some of the various gifts you’ve gotten each other and it is honestly the best.

Words of Affirmation

- Another obvious one, they’re a naturally very positive person and they just love to encourage people (besides Mauga of course), so obviously wouldn’t be weird to have uplifting words being thrown at you by them.

- There’s the usual “You’re doing great!” And “Keep it up, you can do it!”, but the more personal words of affection like “You did so well, I’m so proud of you mi vida!” Is understandably reserved for you.

- They take pride in being your partner and they make that abundantly clear by their words, and doing it right back at them is a great way of shooting an arrow in their heart and a lovestruck giggle from them.

- They have so many pet names for you in both English and Spanish, switching from both languages interchangeably, sometimes if they’re feeling overly excited they even end up changing from one language to the other in one sentence alone.

- The pet names are: Mi corazón, Sweetness, Mi vida, Amor, Babe, and other affectionate and personalized things but these five are the most used.

- If you guys work together, whether it be at Overwatch or as a fellow archeologist, I think alongside being encouraging and supportive of you they like complimenting and flirting with you. Mostly because physical PDA isn’t the place for both, they make do with being with you and fawning over you lol.

- That and they just love talking to you and getting your honest reaction to their honey-coated words.

- They just say anything that comes to mind, they don't see the point of refraining from doing so after all.

- Again, love letters are a part of this, scribbling down what they're feeling at the moment, and by the time it's done it's like affectionate word vomit.

- It doesn't matter though, they mean well and it's usually the cutest shit ever.

(Alright!! Here we are, Sloane is really bringing something out of me that is hellbent on being consistent for once and I gotta say, I like it. Hope you guys do too.)

[toji-fushiguro-is-broke]

How you date

How you date

(He picks where you go out)

Dating Toji isn't that hard, this man can survive anything. He isn't that picky.

He can eat anything and go anywhere as long as it isn't boring and expensive for him.

Toji isn't the one who does romantic dates. He doesn't know what that is, he'd probably bring you to places he likes and he thinks that maybe you'd like it too.

...Well, you did ask him to take you to places that he normally goes to and spend his time...

And those places were either dangerous, shabby or unheard of.

One time you both went to a gambling den, he asked you to wear a oversized shirt and pants going there.

You could smell the sweat of different men all the same time, their beer, and their cigarettes.

"I spend my time here, whenever I have no missions. Pretty great place if you ask me."

But you both weren't here for that. You looked as you see people fighting to death in the den as people bet left and right.

And the way people look at you like they were about to kill you in an instant, as Toji looks at them, they look away scared.

You wonder how that was Ideal for a date.

'Oh yeah, I forgot. There's no romantic bone in his body.' You thought as you saw Toji betting for the people fighting inside the den.

*End of Flash back*

*Back to the Present*

This time, you asked Toji to bring you somewhere that he normally eats and relax.

Where it isn't a gambling den or anything dangerous.

You were wishing this time, the place would be decent. You thought to yourself as you continue to follow him.

"They sell the best food" He said as he stopped infront of a shop as he enters and orders two food for the both of you.

The food was super cheap, and it looked like it was made something that wasn't made from real food.

As you looked at your food, you looked at him eating his share happily.

You sighed, and began eat it because he tried to bringing you out, as you tasted the food. You couldn't taste anything, like there was no seasoning on the food.

Atleast it you can tolerate eating the food.

Then it made you think, if this food was delicious for him. What kinds of food did he eat throughout his life.

Why did this cheap food that doesn't even taste anything, taste so delicious for him.

That place last time, that gambling den.

Where people fought to death just for money, that isn't even more than a few thousand that wouldn't even pay for all of their bills.

The thought of him being relaxed in that atmosphere makes you think. What kind life has this man went through that his standards was almost low as if it didn't existed.

After eating, you two started walking around the park. And sat down, looking around the people and family enjoying their time at the park.

"Look, I'm bad at this shit." He spoke.

"It's okay, you tried. I'm happy to see this side of you." You smiled as you looked at him.

He scoffed and looked away smiling. As he looks back to seeing you looking the scenery in the park where there was a lake infront of you with swans enjoying a beautiful scenery.

You thought to yourself, that you'd love him and teach him how to love.

[em-harlsnow]

Something I’ve had in my mind for a while, so I did a little speed-write:

When he gets back from his therapist, Mickey’s on the couch with his laptop open in front of him.

He doesn’t make a big deal of anything, just looks up, smiles and asks how it went. Today it wasn’t too taxing, just one of the fortnightly appointments that they can afford now. Ian smiles back.

“It was okay.”

“Just okay?” Mickey looks up from the laptop, paying full attention.

He blows out a breath. “Yeah. It was fine, really. Nothing huge.” He says, because nothing huge was revealed, nothing huge was said. Therapy just takes a lot out of him energy-wise.

“Okay.” Mickey replies, placing a hand on his knee, squeezing, and then returns to the screen.

“What are you looking at?” Ian asks, trying to peak.

“That stupid shit you like. Pin Interest or whatever the fuck.”

Ian rolls his eyes. “You like it, Mick. And I know you know it’s called Pinterest.”

Mickey shrugs.

“So, what are you looking at on Pin Interest?” He smirks and Mickey snorts.

“Tattoo ideas. I was thinkin’ of getting another one.” Mickey’s gaze is laser focused as he scans through images, saving some and scowling at others as if they personally offend him.

Ian’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “Where do you want it?” He tries to picture his husband with more tattoos and very much likes the image. He likes his current ones too much to not want him to get more.

“I dunno, man. Some sleeves are cool. But they take ages to build up. Maybe just one on my shoulder to start.”

“That sounds good.” Ian tries to get closer, but he still can’t really see what Mickey’s looking at. “Can I see?” He asks, pointing at the device.

Mickey sighs like he’s the most annoying fucker on the planet, but he tilts the screen towards him anyway.

He can see now that Mickey’s searched up ‘black tattoo shoulder men’ and there are just piles on piles of buff men with shoulder tats.

“I like the snake one.” Mickey tells him, pointing at the picture he means. It’s a serpent winding around the top of the guy’s arm, tangling together and going down to the bottom of his bicep.

“Yeah, that one’s cool.” Ian agrees. “What about that one?” He points at one with a fine lined dragon reaching onto the guy’s peck.

“I guess, but I don’t want it too thin, you know? When they do it too intricate, the lines all blur together.” Ian hums in assent.

“Show me what you already have saved.”

Mickey clicks through the website, and Ian catches a glimpse of his pre-existing boards before he goes to the tattoo one. There’s one called ‘wedding’ and one called ‘apartment’ and one called ‘dope shit’. The cover photo of ‘dope shit’ is an aesthetic image of two beers and two cigarettes clasped in two hands. Ian’s not really surprised that this is what Mickey considers to be ‘dope shit’.

In the folder is a lot of similar things. Snakes, dragons, one cat with bat wings. One looks like a weird cross between a gun and a dagger. They’re all pretty hot, and Ian tells him about his favourites.

“I was thinkin’ of drawing it myself. I don’t wanna just copy what someone else has.”

“What did you do for this one?” Ian asks, grasping Mickey’s forearm.

“Drew it.” He explains simply, eyes not leaving the screen.

“Yeah? It’s good. You should draw the next one, too then.”

Mickey hums in agreement but continues to browse the website, probably looking for ideas.

Ian clicks on the TV, starting up an episode of New Girl while Mickey’s distracted.

They sit in peaceful silence for a while, until Mickey speaks again.

“There’s a tattoo place up the street. The reviews seem good. Don’t wanna go somewhere if they’ll just fuck it up.”

“That’s true.” Ian pauses. “If you’re getting one, I might get one too.”

Mickey raises his eyes brows in that expressive way of his. “You want a new tat? Fuckin’ copy cat.” He grumbles, but with the way he looks Ian up and down he can tell he’s not opposed.

“Yeah, been thinkin about it for a bit.”

“Oh yeah? What you thinkin, tough guy, I’ll look up some ideas.” Mickey suggests, already looking back at ‘Pin Interest’.

“Don’t worry, I already know what I want.”

When he doesn’t say more, Mickey huffs impatiently. “Gonna keep me waiting all night or what?”

Ian smirks and leans forward. “I was thinkin’ of an ‘MM’ tattoo, right here.” He tells him, pointing at a spot on the inside of his wrist.

Mickey looks surprised, and fond, and happy all at once. Even so, he tuts at him. “Tshc, you don’t have to do that just because I got your name.”

Ian rolls his eyes. “I fuckin’ know that, dork. I like the idea of having a more permanent thing than the rings.”

“Yeah, coz you keep fuckin’ losing your rings.”

“Well I’m sorry I don’t want it to fall down a drain or something, Mick.” He laughs, exasperated. “But a tattoo won’t fall down the drain.”

Mickey looks at him, and he’s so happy that Ian can’t help but wind their fingers together.

“You don’t want it to look like Mandy Milkovich, though. Gotta get my middle initial, too.”

“Wouldn’t her initials be ‘AM’? For Amanda?” Ian raises his eyebrows. Mickey scrunches his.

“Oh yeah.”

“You hate your middle name, anyway. And ‘MAM’ looks like I got something for my mum, I want this for you.”

“Yeah, you already got those titties for Monica.” Mickey jokes lightly and Ian pushes his side.

<3333

i might write a next part, where they actually go get them!

[theosconfessions]

The Miscellaneous questions for River and his man/child, i mean husband.

i actually loled haha!! thank you for asking, love.

MISCELLANEOUS: Is money a problem? River: its not. i think we're lucky that blake got drafted and makes a good amount of money playing football. we literally got married while we were still in high school and a good majority of kids that do that are NOT in the same position we're in right now.

How many cars do they own?

Blake: we own two. one for riv to take the kids around when im not home and one for me to take to practice/games all that stuff.

Do they own their home or do they rent?

Blake: DUDEEEE if my apartment couldve magically grown with every kid we had ..then i would still be renting. good memories in that place

River: better memories in a place where we actually have room for kids..and me.

Do they live near the coast or deep in the countryside?

Blake: we're balls deep in suburbia right now. his parents live out in the country and FUCK I WANT IT SO BAD.

Do they live in the city or in the country?

River: suburbs ..for now.

Do they enjoy their surroundings? River: i was fucking DYING in that apartment. i think having the house kinda gives me space so i dont really necessarily feel like im suffocating.

Blake: you feel like your suffocating?

River: in your man cave apartment i did yeah.

What’s their song? Blake: i gotta do it' so high school'-taylor swift

What do they do when they’re away from each other? River: we dont constantly text eachother but little pics through the day i think. gives us time to be you know separate people and lets us enjoy whatever we're doing at the moment without being glued to our phone all the time.

Blake: i demand sexy riv pics every night im away [smirks]

River: demands a strong word.

Blake: you know what i mean. i APPRECIATE sexy riv pics every night.

River: dude. looking like a douchebag.

Where did they first meet? Blake: we went to school together [smirks] friends first.

How did they first meet? Blake: we were in the same gym class and he fucking PELTED me with a dodgeball man. love at first sight. for me.

Who spends the most money when out shopping? Blake : *points to riv*

River: treats.

Who’s more likely to flash their assets? River: oh my god blake. he does it during games. FINED ALL OF THE TIME.

Blake: worth it [smirks]

Who finds it amusing when the other trips over? River: me. hes not coordinated at all. youd think he would be but....

Any mental issues? Blake: oh god yeah. i mean...

River: i have depression. the past years been kinda.. i dont know. but i am doing better. im getting better

Blake: my boy.

Who’s terrified of bugs? River: i think both of us? fuck that shit.

Who kills the spiders around the house? Blake: Nellie

River: definitely Nellie.

Their favourite place? Blake: [smirks] theres this little ranch up in chestnut ridge. i love taking him there. just me him. no kids.

River:thats a good place [smirks]

Who pays the bills? Blake [raises hand] and proud of that shit

Do they have any fears for their future? River: i think that...we went through a lot of rough stuff in our separation and i just..do not want to go through that again. i think we're on a good path right now and i want to stay on that path

Blake: i think what riv said yeah. the last thing we both wanted when we were having problems was a divorce. and its something i do not want. i guess thats my fear for my future. i just wanna be good for him. i know i wasnt in the past.im trying to be now.

Who’s more likely to surprise the other with a fancy dinner? Blake: me for SURE.

Who uses up all of the hot water? Blake: again me for SURE. but he can crash the shower whenever

River: me time,babe.

Who’s the tallest? Blake: me. rivers a short shit.

Who’s more likely to just randomly hop into the shower with the other? River:thats definitely blake. i LOVE showering alone but hey.

Blake: wont turn down that DICK.

River: gross.

Who wanders around in their underwear? River: [points to blake] he hasnt learned.

Who sings the loudest when singing along to the radio? Blake: River for sure.he has a pretty voice though. love to hear that shit.

What do they tease each other about? River: i like to tease him over how much of a pussy he was for me back in our first starting dating days

Blake: i cried after we fucked for the first time. for real. and id do it again.

Who is more likely to cringe at the other’s fashion sense at times? River: me. blakes taste is .....

Do they have mutual friends? River: not anymore.

Who crushed first? Blake: oh me for sure. unless riv is about to say something i didnt know

River: i never really considered that AT ALL until you kissed me that one day. you werent on my radar at all i was so into my girlfriend at the time

Blake:until ....

Any alcohol or substance related problems? River: no we both quit that stuff when teddie came along.

Who is more likely to stumble home, drunk, at 3am? Blake: we are good boys [smirks]

Who swears the most?

River: i think me and its purely because of my dads influence i swear to god.

[sleepymccoy]

(Spock Prime is pov, McCoy Prime is referred to as Leonard, the aos trio are here too) (here's the full fic, this is the last chapter (spoilers!) and I'm posting it as a teaser cos I'm now releasing a sequel from the aos pov) (the tos one is really good tho you should read it) (if you like spones) (even if you don't actually)

“What’s the plan, Ambassador?” Kirk asked. 

“Yes, Ambassador?” Leonard asked. His had traveled down slightly, resting just above Spock’s arse. Spock blinked once, steadying himself, and found the few remaining threads of his restraint. 

“I might,” Spock said, hesitantly, “perhaps, retire my commission. Captain, would you facilitate a conver- ”

“What?” the other Spock asked. 

“Yeah, what?” Leonard repeated. He tapped Spock’s arse gently. “They told me about Vulcan, Spock, you’re working there. Good work.” Leonard’s frown was genuine, no glint of secret pleasure in it. He grimaced at Spock and addressed Kirk. “Ah, he’s just confused, ignore that.”

“Ambassador?” Kirk asked. 

“Take some time off,” Leonard cried out. He let go of Spock. “Shit, call in sick. I’ve been thinking about this longer than you.” He bent and fished his walking stick up off the floor. Spock went to pick it up first, but by the time he realised that Leonard was on the way down he’d already nimbly stood back up. “On that note, Doctor Me,” Leonard continued, waving the stick in the air as he stepped towards the trio, “how do you feel about having an older you running around? Well, caning around.”

Doctor McCoy laughed breathily, then frowned more seriously. “I’m not threatened by you, Doctor.” He nodded to the side, as if agreeing with Leonard, although Leonard had said nothing. “It is a bit strange.”

Leonard hummed doubtfully. McCoy broke the eye contact first, grimacing at Kirk. 

Leonard spun on his heel, using the walking stick to balance himself. When Spock had left the stick was new, now it acted as an extension of him. He had known Leonard would continue living, and had felt the grief of not knowing him. Seeing just how he had done so was simultaneously heartbreaking and joyous. 

“I could take your name,” Leonard said.

Could he possibly mean- ? Spock smirked. “Take it where?” he asked.

Leonard grinned. Spock’s heart jumped. He was definitely resigning his commission, he would not spend another moment separated, but they could discuss it later. 

“Cute,” Leonard said. His eyebrows raised high, his forehead creasing with wonderful age. “That marriage proposal still on the table, Mister?”

“Ah,” Spock breathed. He felt his counterpart’s eyes on him. “I never proposed to you.”

“Ooh, don’t be tricky now, sugar, I’m exhausted.”

He was leaning rather heavily on his stick now. “Of course it is, Leonard,” Spock whispered.

Leonard’s grin grew. “Ambassador and Doctor Spock!” 

Spock went to him, taking his elbow. Leonard heaved a sign, resting his weight on Spock’s hand. He had new sun spots on his cheeks, greyer hair, deeper wrinkles. But his eyes were precisely the same.

“Captain,” the other Spock muttered, “is this the best solution for- ”

“Quiet, it’s their choice,” Kirk said.

“Also,” said their McCoy, “three Spocks is hilarious.”

Leonard pulled Spock in for a kiss. He was alive and intimate. Spock was dizzy with this all. 

“I don’t wish to marry for function,” Spock said, lips dragging against Leonard’s. 

Leonard kissed him again, just quickly. “I got romance a’plenty for you, love.” He turned, throwing his head back to Kirk. “Can we leave?” He face Spock again, his hair mussed. “Do you have a ship?”

Spock smiled to himself, enjoying how Leonard’s eye caught the quirk of his lips. He positioned Leonard, directing how he stood, so that they both faced Kirk. Leonard winked at him and did not resist being moved.

“Yes, certainly,” Kirk said, with barely a beat of hesitation. He addressed Leonard. “We’ll beam your luggage aboard.”

Leonard nodded, patted Spock on the arse obviously then raised his hand to wave his farewell. He made his way steadily onto the transporter pad, muttering to himself. 

Spock addressed Kirk with a small bow. “Thank you, Captain. Means more to me than you know.”

Kirk put his hands up. “I was just the taxi driver, he did all the work.” He nodded warmly. “Good afternoon.”

“Sir,” Spock farewelled his counterpart. He met poor McCoy’s uncomfortable gaze. “Doctor.”

“Ambassador,” Doctor McCoy said stiffly. 

Spock accepted the farewells and followed Leonard. Leonard winked at him again. Spock’s heart fluttered, and the transporter took them. 

Spock still had his eyes on Leonard as they arrived on his ship. Leonard touched his own chest and abdomen, checking his wellbeing. 

“Do you require anything?” Spock asked quietly. 

“Ahh,” Leonard groaned, “it’s hot in here! Thank God, they keep that ship very cold, don’t they?” He tottered off, leaning on his cane and inspecting the walls. “I wonder how trim and stern deals with it.”

“Trim and stern?”

“Is this alright, Spock?” Leonard asked quickly. Spock wasn’t going to find out who trim and stern was, then.

Spock stood straight. “You had a whole life without me,” Spock said.

Leonard nodded. “I still do,” he said. “I said my goodbyes. I knew what I was doing, love. I’ll find something to do, probably on New Vulcan with you, they’ll need to start mixing up the gene pool to- ”

“Leonard,” Spock snapped, almost scolding him. He didn’t want to hear about work.

“Sweetheart.” Leonard hesitated, rubbing his hand against his mouth. “Listen, Spock, I don’t need you. I just want you.” He met Spock’s eyes slowly and licked his lips. “I want you every night, every morning. And I do what I want, damn it, so I’m here.”

Spock breathed out slowly. 

“Is it good?” Leonard asked, his voice tense. “I hope it’s good, my dear, I can’t take it back.”

“Very good,” Spock said, desperately quiet. He held his hand out, two fingers extended.

Two sharp cracks sounded as Leonard came to him immediately, his cane loud as he stepped. His fingers paired up and joined with Spock’s, as they finally, truly, kissed. 

[hella1975]

who let my flatmate host a houseparty surely i would have vetoed that. walking into the carnage of my living room and letting out a delicate gasp

[orcelito]

Wild that anytime I post an update a lot of people read it and are even excited about it and have their own thoughts and reactions to it that I'll never know.

Comments are only the very tip of the iceberg with it. And I am Very grateful to commenters for letting me in on it. But in the same way that I'll be excited with my friends when a fic we love updates, it's likely that Other people enthuse with Their friends when my fic updates. And it's just so strange. An experience I'll never have access to.

Everyone's relationship with my fic is unique. So many different people with so many different circumstances and preferences... and the number of people that have told me that my fic is one of their favorites, some even saying it's their Favorite favorite... every single one of them have their own relationship with my writing.

It's just interesting to me. I think and think and think on my writing. I have my plans for basically the entire fic, the way I want it to end already thought out, all the major plot beats and the relationship progressions, All of that thought out. I love my writing so very much, but I'm on the inside looking out. This is my mechanical horse, and I'm in here laying out the groundwork and pulling levers and constructing limbs, puttering away making the horse move. Forever and always, my relationship with it will be more intimate than anyone's, and yet more clinical. Because I know it better than the back of my own hand, but I'll never have the experience of reading it fresh. Of reading it without knowing everything that's going to happen from now to the end and beyond. I won't have the thrill of the plot twists I have planned, the delight at seeing things progress, the horror at seeing things go wrong...

This is my mechanical horse, and I'm making it move.

I just always wonder what it must be like to see it from the outside. I hope to others that it's a pretty horse.

[themyscirah]

Suffering more than Jesus atm (being a fan of 80s/90s Suicide squad in 2024)

[indigodawns]

.

[dorkicon]

bitching abt my job again

tags contain frank mentions of transphobia and homophobia

[wild-at-mind]

Not reblogging it for reasons, but I really agree with that person on here who said people are reframing depression and generally feeling shit all the time as a good thing because of the horrors of Gaza. There are people on here heavily implying that you feeling bad and finding it more and more difficult to live with yourself is actually an appropriate response to war and genocide. In some way, it might be. But the thing is, where does that lead? Does it lead to decisive action in accordance to your values, or to nihilistic stewing and self isolation from your community?

The post went on to call it anti-recovery culture- I don't know if I would call it that, because I get why people don't like recovery culture, especially in relation to addiction, but mental illness also. I think that's something I'm not qualified to speak on. So I wouldn't call this anti-recovery culture. Instead I would call it pro-burnout in activism culture. Do you honestly think people who are the most productively working in their communities and participating in actions to help overseas are feeling like this? Or do you think they have learned to use self-accountability and community support to reign themselves in when they begin to burn out emotionally, and rest and recuperate their mind in order to come back stronger? Ask yourself, is that wrong of them to do, because they should be feeling bad, because after all that is the appropriate response....does it mean they don't care, because they don't spend all their time feeling shit? Or perhaps, the truth is, they do care, and are demonstrating it all the time, but they also understand that them feeling shit literally doesn't help anyone. Why can we not talk about or acknowledge this?