#and it worked but nowadays I hate taking all the extra time to make sure I speak Perfectly and even if I try I never do

[andnatiabrosca]

I podded the ficlet I wrote like a month back - Brother Treasure-Hunter as prompted by @/herearedragons. Do I know how to properly podfic? No. Am I a little more interested in sound design than I have skill or patience for? Yeah.

Did I still finish this? Yeah!

It's just about 6 minutes long. I'll crosspost to Ao3 when I feel up to doing all that bull.

[dognonsense]

Question...how do you make your patches? They seem so fuckin cool. I'm working on a vest and a jacket atm, and I'd like for them to be done by the time a pride fest rolls around next month.

Main technique I use for making patches nowadays is linocut. Its best suited for mass production of patches.

Make sure to remember your carving the mirror image so you have to flip all the text. Using tracing paper to flip the design is a good trick, as well as leaving graphite marks on side, then pressing that to the lino to leave the marks in the same spot. Another trick with pencil is to view what ur carving in negative space quickly, put a paper over your design and shade over it with pencil, darker marks will be where you haven't carved yet.

I use speedball fabric ink, it takes 1 week to set then will be fine to be washed. I have magenta, violet, turqouise, and white. They have a limited range of fabric colors at the store. I have seen gold and silver fabric paint for sale and I will investigate it one day.

I use a speedball roller, i find the smaller one to be better than the big one as I can be more precise and waste less ink.

I got a fancy handle for $40 but the screws fallen out so its broken now so just get some heavy books. I used to use a mug. Whats important is pushing your whole body weight into it.

I got a speedball carving tool with different heads I can swap out so I can cut into the lino at different deepness and widths. The heads are stored inside the tool since its hollow and has a screwable removable bottom. I use linocut or dollar store erasers for my carvings. Make sure to wash the ink off your linocuts after your done using them.

A thing to increase the lifespan of you're linocuts is to use wood glue, some cork or wood pieces, and glued the lino stamps onto them. I dont do that yet so my stamps fall appart from overuse sometime and because I cut way too deep into the lino since I hate chatter.

Chatter is the term for in linocutting when theres little messy lines and stuff. It makes the art more recognisably to be linocut. My work is very clean with no chatter which is why people don't notice its linocut usually. This is a stylistic choice, with diy styles having a lot of chatter can look really cool so experiment with leaving bits of extra uncarvered lino sticking out in ur stamp. I need to experiment and buy some more lino.

You can also use multiple linocut stamps together to make a patch. Some patches ive made have like 8 different stamps. Ive made a dog nonsense patch where each letter was their own eraser stamp. You can also use different colors between the different lino stamps on the same patch to add more color. An effect I like to do is first stamp it in color, then the next day I stamp it in white over the same spot but shifted to the right and down slightly. It makes the text have a cool border 3D effect I love doing.

If making a more detailed picture with colors, i reccomend hand painting patches. I use white fabric paint mixed with acrylics for color to get all the shades i need. Acrylic paint mixed with fabric softener works too.

If doing words and you dont want a unique font reccomend using letter stamps. If you want a unique font for that i recommend hand paint for individual or linocut for mass produce.

The positive of letter stamps is the font is neat and can be done quickly. I know from lending them to my roommate that they are very helpful if you have dyslexia and have trouble getting letters right.

A visual effect of the letter stamps is that have a nice boxy edge effect, its an imperfection that adds a personally touch to it. I have both lower and upper case stamps that I got from michaels. You can use a hair band or elastic to hold a bunch of letter stamps together to make a word stamp.

You can use other stamps than letters that you find at craft stores for example my racoon print is a craftstore stamp.

You can also find big plastic letter stencils at the dollar store that you can use to do lettering by filling in gaps with a sponge or or paintbrush. They make special paintbrushes just for using stencils.

You can also get plastic stencils in the shapes of things, i got some for children and use a horse stencil for my horse smoking weed patch. Easier than drawing a horse myself.

Another technique I use for more unique clean patches is gel plating. I haven't tried printing laserprint images with it as ive seen online a lot but I will try one day. What i personally do is use it to make imprints with chains and physical objects.

Another thing i use with gelplates are any stamps or linocuts that dont have words, or words ones that i fucked up with and forgot to mirror when carving. It flips mirror image twice with the gel plate so it goes back to being right again on the patch.

Another patch making technique is using foamboard cut into shapes glued onto cardboard. This is good for a quick test of a design and is very cheap to make. It will not hold under water so is more difficult to clean.

[rottenrosethorns]

HI HI!! i love ur blog sm i had to request something!! can we pls get some fluffy leon hcs where he's playing w his partner's hair? or caressing their skin, anything along those lines🥺

im touch starved istg

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x gn!reader 

Genre: Headcanons, Fluff 

Synopsis: Leon’s love language is physical touch – Leon takes you on a surprise date to the local carnival! 

Word Count: 1.4K 

Warnings: mentions of carnivals but no clowns, large crowds, mentions of social anxiety 

A/N: I don’t know how to write headcanons lol. So, hopefully this is okay for the first time. I also don’t know how to keep things short and sweet, I was itching to write a whole ass fic for this LMAO. thank you anon for the idea and for loving my humble blog! <3

__________

- masterlist - 

__________

You always found it surprising that Leon would put 110% effort in planning your monthly date nights. Usually, he’s cool, calm, and collected, so you didn’t strike him as the type to become giddy about some outing; however, Leon always managed to prove you wrong. He was an excellent planner thanks to all the years of training his observation skills. 

He knew exactly what you liked and didn’t like. So even if you hated surprises, Leon would always orchestrate the date accordingly and ease into the activity he knew you’d enjoy. 

Plus, you trusted him more than you trusted your anxiety!

Before you even leave the house, Leon's sitting on the closed lid of the bathroom toilet, watching as you get yourself ready for whatever outing he'd been brewing for the past week. His eyes would be keen on you the entire time, shifting to look at your reflection in the mirror, then back towards you. 

Since he doesn’t want to interrupt your work – you are putting in the time and energy to look good for him after all – Leon resorts to verbal compliments and being your personal hype boy. 

You'd usually listen to music or play a video to accompany your routine, but nowadays, Leon was the only companion you needed. 

Leon can't sit still for long, so he'll be hovering all around you. One moment, he's standing behind you and wrapping his arms around your midriff to catch you in a tight back hug. Next, he's turning you around with his hands on your hips as he tries to convince you that you don't need anything to make you look more breathtaking than you already were. 

You pinch him arm gently, warning him that he'll make you both late if he keeps distracting you. So, he offers to help you with your hair instead. 

The man wants to be involved! Let him dote on you! 

Surprisingly, Leon's decent as a hairstylist. Experienced from handling young Sherry’s hair, Leon forcibly learned almost any and all basic hairstyles. He'll be extra gentle with you though, making sure not to pull too tight or harshly brush through knots. If he's feeling a bit childish, he'll try to tickle your earlobes. But when you get annoyed, he'll offer an apologetic kiss on your neck before neatly finishing his style. 

Sometimes he’ll ask what style you want, but most times you let him decide for you. Secretly, you know he enjoys dolling you up to his expectations, so as long as it looks well kept, you didn’t mind what he did for you. 

Leon's not the best driver, so unfortunately, he can't do the one hand driving, one hand on your left thigh ordeal. No matter how much he wants to be cool, he doesn't have the confidence to drive without two hands on the wheel like a teen who'd just gotten their permit. 

It's okay though, because he'll interlace his fingers with yours and softly kiss the back of your hand at red lights. Maybe, he can sneak in a peck when there's traffic too. 

Leon always opens the door for you and offers a helping hand which never lets go unless absolutely necessary. It's not uncommon for couples to hold hands in public, but when he's brought you to the local carnival with an abundance of people, he's definitely making sure you don't get lost in the crowd. Your safety comes first after all. 

If you get anxious around a lot of people, Leon will either rub his thumb over the back of your hand soothingly as he whispers some reassuring words for you or he'll move so that his body acts as a sort of barrier. 

You'll always follow closely behind him, tugging at his clothes just in case your hands disconnected for whatever reason. Once you're out of the crowd, Leon will make sure you're feeling okay before holding you closer by latching his arm around your waist. 

It’s a win-win for the both of you. You get to feel his warmth from his protection, and he gets to ward off anyone who thinks they have a chance with you. Boy is possessive, so don’t stray too far! 

If you get self-conscious about PDA, Leon will pout, but he'll get over it. As much as he wants to smother you in kisses for the world to see that you are his lover, Leon would never force you to be in an uncomfortable situation especially in public. 

Therefore, he'll compromise with a ghost touch at the small of your back or a soft grip on your shoulder. He'll know he's doing okay because you'll subconsciously lean closer to him and sometimes put a hand on top of his. 

The both of you will explore the carnival grounds for a while, trying your hand at a few carnival games. Of course, Leon is very competitive in nature and an excellent marksman, so he'll absolutely ace at any and all shooter games. But this time, he'll push you up to the podium this time and help you win your own prize. 

He'll stand behind you with both hands on your shoulders as he tells you to focus on the three glass bottles. He gives clear instructions, waiting for you to nod your head or make a noise in confirmation before sliding his arms down yours and aiming the toy gun towards the bottles. 

He'll hover towards your level, chin resting on the curvature of your shoulder. He does this to help see how you’re aiming, but he purposely pushes himself closer to tease you. He can’t help that you’re just smaller than him and that your figure is always begging for him to embrace you. 

He knows you're nervous, but he wants you to win, so he'll wrap his hands around your shaking hands, gripping the stock to stabilize you and the gun before shifting your aim. Once lined up, he'll let you pull the trigger on your own, successfully knocking down the three bottles. Elated, you turn and envelope yourself into a congratulatory hug before happily accepting the prize. 

When you're both hungry and take a seat at an open table to snack on the overpriced carnival food, Leon now does the hand on the thigh thingy. 

He'll go the extra mile and hook your leg over his, so that you're partially thrown over his lap as he traces random lines on your skin. Again, if you're anxious about large crowds, this'll soothe you. 

You can't say you've been to a carnival if you hadn't gone on the ferris wheel, right? Is it very obvious that he plans to seal the night with a romantic kiss at the top of the ride? Yes. But, you'll pretend you don't know what he's planning to do. 

Leon's never truly loved someone before, so don't blame him when he gets all his ideas from cheesy romance movies. You'd never expose him though, because you didn't mind being the main character sometimes. 

You can tell he's nervous, his eyes are watching the wheel spin round and round as you wait in line. Now it's your turn to calm his nervousness down as you wrap yourself on his bicep and lean your head on his muscles. He'll look away with a soft, goofy smile before taking his free hand and giving you a soft head pat to silently thank you. 

Once on the ride, Leon prefers that you sit next to him. Although he liked looking at you sitting across from him, Leon felt much more comfortable with you by his side, especially when you both were swinging higher than the treetops. 

As the ride begins to move, Leon will wrap an arm around your side, planting a firm grip on your hip and pulling you close to him. Even when the cart shakes, Leon's hold is firm and keeps you stable, but that doesn't prevent you from fearfully gripping his midsection.

He'll let out a teasing laugh at your timid reaction and press a kiss on your temple as you hide your face in his chest. 

Once at the very top, Leon will uncover you and take a moment to admire you. He's very keen on eye contact, so he'll hold your chin with his fingers as he expresses how much he loves you. He'll slide his fingers until they're placed on the side of your neck and pull you in for that cliche kiss to perfectly end the night.

[eddiemunsonw]

Buzzing Adventures

Eddie x fem!reader

Summary: Your favorite vibrator breaks down in the middle of a pretty neat feel-good session, downright ruining your mood. Luckily, Eddie knows a thing or two about satisfying you as well.

CW/Disclaimer: Ah yes, smut. Vibrators, a very determined Eddie. Established relationship. Humor and fluff.

Author's note: There may or may not be a part 2 to this at some point. Also the header makes little sense, I just wanted to show the skilled pleasure set that is Eddie's mouth and hands in one image.

Words: 5618

As your mind drifted off into your deepest desires, you turned up the vibration. Soft moans escaped your lips as you chased your high, both your hands working hard to get there with the help of your vibrator. Your hips bucked up against it when it didn’t seem to hit the right spot the way it usually would and you slowly realized that the battery was dying.

“Fuck… Not now!” You groaned, tossing it aside to finish it off with your hands instead. It was disappointing. Your hands could do the trick just fine but sometimes you just wanted that extra edge your vibrator could give you. You contemplated going for it again after replacing the batteries but soon came to realize that the batteries had never been the problem. It simply broke. Just your luck. Sulking, you tossed the vibrator in the trash after taking the perfectly fine batteries out again and sighed. You hated buying vibrators. Not because it was embarrassing, but because you never knew which one to pick. The options were endless nowadays. You decided to leave it for now and started on making dinner for you and your boyfriend.

Eddie worked part time at the garage around the corner which usually meant he’d come home greasy and dirty in the worst and best kind of way. Very fuckable, but none of the furniture was quite Eddie-proof when it came to how dirty his work clothes were. After causing a permanent stain on the couch on a particularly heated late afternoon, you had both decided it was best if he just took it all off immediately and only touched anything after getting out of the shower.

It was always easy to hear when Eddie came home. Keys clanging on the trinket that you had made specifically for your keys, shoes being chucked off and his footsteps echoing all the way towards you.

“Hey baby,” he greeted you softly with a kiss on your cheek, making sure he was leaning away far enough. “I’ll be in the shower. Looks delicious.”

“It’s your favorite actually,” you called after him. Eddie let out a happy noise as he rushed upstairs and you smiled to yourself. You weren’t making anything special. Just some pasta recipe that you had tweaked and added things to until one day Eddie had moaned at the first bite and you knew you had done something right.

You were about to serve dinner when you heard his footsteps come back downstairs again and soon enough his arms were wrapped around your waist and your neck was showered in little, noisy kisses.

“Missed you.”

“Missed you too.”

Eddie got a drink for the both of you and sat down with a frown. You figured he was just lost in thought about something and focused on filling both your plates, until he spoke up.

“Why is there a vibrator in the bin?”

You groaned and threw your head back in agony.

“It just stopped working all of a sudden, I hate it. I don’t want to deal with buying a new one,” you sighed and sat down as well. As you took a sip of your drink, Eddie gave you a look as if you had just told him something awful. Worse than a sex toy that just yeed its last haw.

“So… did you finish?”

“Hm? No. I was out of it after that. Just gave up.”

Eddie nodded as if he made a deep, thoughtful, very important decision.

“I’ll do it.”

You frowned.

“Do what?”

“I’ll take over. It’s my time to shine baby,” he told you with a grin as he lifted his arms above his head and cracked his fingers. “I’ve been waiting for this day my whole life.”

“It was your dream job to be a vibrator?”

“What? No! This is my chance to prove that I’m better than a vibrator.”

You smiled at him affectionately and leaned over to cup his jaw.

“Oh, Eddie. Baby. You’ll always be better than a vibrator, don’t be silly. It’s just… the functions are nice, you know? Fast, intense, that kinda stuff.”

“I can be fast and intense,” Eddie muttered.

“I’m sure you can babe.” A quirked eyebrow raised on his end. “I know you can.”

“So? Let me prove it to you that I can cover for its absence until…” he sighed, pausing for dramatic effect, “you buy another… or whatever.”

A laugh left your lips and you shrugged, playing it off casually despite the very vivid images playing in front of your eyes. You knew very well what Eddie could do to you with his set of very skilled fingers and tongue. The thought made you push your thighs together.

“You wanna prove that now? ‘Cause I’m still...”

“Still what?” Eddie smirked at you, leaning forward with a smug smile. “Horny?”

Despite the heat that welled up on your cheeks, you decided to tease him right back.

“Yeah. I was actually in the middle of imagining riding your co—”

Eddie’s hand flew up to cover your mouth and a groan escaped his lips. He narrowed his eyes at you while his hand went under the table to adjust himself in his sweats and shook his head.

“You can’t just say shit like that, sweetheart. Jesus Christ.”

Now it was your turn to smile smugly.

“Little horndog.”

“M’ not little, y’know.”

“Oh I know,” you teased some more, biting your lip as you knew that would drive him mad. Eddie grabbed your face with both hands and gave you a loud kiss on your lips.

“Menace. Is it because you’re in need?”

“It just might be,” you mused. Eddie nodded and got up from his chair, his arousal already evident in his pants.

“Alright. I’ll clean up here, you head upstairs. I’ll be with you soon.”

You shook your head and got up as well, taking both your plates towards the sink.

“Not yet baby, we literally just ate.”

“Hmmmh fine. I suppose I can wait for my dessert a little longer,” Eddie sighed dramatically, but not before his hand briefly slipped between your legs for a teasing squeeze.

“Ed!” As you tried squirming out of his grip, Eddie pushed you against the counter, his hands on your waist, thumbs pushing under the fabric of your shirt. His lips grazed your neck and as much as your exclaim had tried to slow him down, your body reacted a total opposite. Heat made its way straight to your core as he nudged his hips into you, rocking slowly while he kissed your jawline.

“Wanna eat you out so badly sweetheart. Need’a taste,” he whispered against your skin. As his hands worked their way up, the friction his hips created made you whimper slightly. His hands gently cupped your breasts and you had to bite down a moan. You had felt worked up for so long that his voice did a number on you (more than usual) and his warm breath tickled your skin.

“Keep talking like that and there’s no need, babe,” you groaned.

“Oh? Sweet pussy’s all wet for me already, huh?” Eddie muttered softly, lips briefly brushing yours. Another whimper left your lips. That bastard. He smirked at your reaction and brought his lips close to your ear again. “You do realize that whether or not you come right now, my dessert’s still waiting for me behind those soaked panties, sweetheart?”

And just like that, he moved back and resumed cleaning up the table as if he hadn’t just riled you up fifty times the amount you already had been. It had actually been like… ten, but seeing him all dirty from work added another five. You couldn’t help it. With all of his latest efforts, you were ready to jump him on the spot.

“I’ll be upstairs,” you announced tight-lipped and you noticed the hint of a smile on Eddie’s face just as he turned away from you.

“Good girl.”

*-*

As you lay there, you wondered whether you should just take off your clothes already. Get it out of the way. You listened to the distant noise of pots and pans being put back into their respectful places and sighed to yourself. It felt impossible to relax despite the fact that you and Eddie had had sex lots of times. Lots. Of. Times. You were simply nervous because you didn’t know what to expect. He was a god at eating you out, treating your cunt like it was his last meal every time he indulged himself. He always made it sound like it was his treat rather than yours. Thinking about his tongue between your legs made you squirm and you wondered what his plan was to “replace your vibrator”. You knew he had ambition for the weirdest things (you loved him for it), but this was a new one.

Just as you were pushing your leggings down your legs, Eddie walked in. You hadn’t even heard him walk up the stairs.

“Starting the striptease without me? How dare you,” Eddie tutted as he sat on the edge of the bed, enjoying how him watching you made you squirm. It would simply never bore him. You shook your head.

“Not a striptease. Just a girl trying to get out of her goddamn leggings before her boyfriend showed up.”

“Strip for me anyway, though?”

It wasn’t a question even if he made it sound like one. Eddie’s eyes watched you intently as you rid yourself of your leggings, socks joining in before you started on your T-shirt.

“Everything?”

“All of it. Wanna have free range to play with your tits baby.”

His hands already worked up and down your calves, fingertips inching closer to your panties every time he passed your knees. By the time you had lost every piece of clothing on your top half, his fingers finally curled around your panties and pulled them down. Your arousal was clear as day and Eddie moaned at the sight. Once he had taken them off, he gave you one look before he stretched the fabric with both hands and took one, broad lick of your juices that had leaked onto it. He closed his eyes as he did it, moaned when he tasted you on his tongue. And this was only the beginning.

Eddie put your panties aside and stripped himself all the way down but left his boxers on. He nudged you to scooch up and spread your legs generously so he could properly lay down between them, headfirst.

The first time you felt his lips between your legs was when he kissed your inner thigh. Slowly, with purpose. His tongue dragged over your skin and his eyes fluttered shut just like yours did. As impatient as you often felt, you would rarely complain and tell him to hurry up. There was something sweet and highly arousing about watching him kiss every sweet spot of your thighs. He loved your curves, loved that he could dig his hand in and give it a jiggle. It used to embarrass you until Eddie got upset on behalf of your thighs as they were the most glorious thighs he had ever seen. He made you learn to slowly love yourself. How could you not, when a guy like him, when your Eddie, treated your body like his treasure? Self loathing came more difficult when your boyfriend seemed to melt at the sight of you. Got hot and bothered at your slightest touch and looked at you as if you were his dream come true.

You were in such a daze while enjoying his love, the lips that expressed them as you gazed at his eyes that were closed from pure enjoyment, that you didn’t notice he had reached the middle. Despite his gentle start, you still jolted when he licked a featherlight stripe over your pussy lips, matching the groan that left his mouth as well. He was too eager and indulged himself immediately, licking away strongly as you gasped and tried to remain somewhat human as your soul left your body.

“E-Eddie— fuck—”

Your voice brought him back down from cloud nine and he rested his cheek on your thigh as he pulled away slightly after a last, teasing lick.

“What setting do you want? Soft, hard, pulsating? Something else I don’t know about?”

A disbelieving chuckle left your lips. He was really serious about this, wasn’t he? As he waited for your response, his hand massages your other thigh, thumb inching closer to your core. He loved to tease.

“How are you even— I like to start slow, work my way up,” you told him softly, knowing there was no way out of this. Your cheeks warmed up as it felt that you were spilling a dirty secret despite him knowing nearly everything about you already. Ever since you started to get intimate with Eddie, communication has always been a priority for the both of you. Eddie simply nodded, lifted his head off your thigh and leaned in, inhaling your scent with a sigh before he nudged his tongue against your clit. You had no idea how he did it, but he was doing it. His tongue moved so quickly against you, yet with the gentle pressure of a low vibration setting, that it felt quite similar. Except… wetter. Warmer. Better. Your back arched, your hand flew to his hair and a warm chuckle escaped Eddie at the confirmation that he was doing something right. His grip on your thighs tightened as he wrapped his arms around, pushing your legs wider and keeping them in place.

“Oh god, Eddie!” 

You squirmed under his touch and you could feel your juices mixed with his saliva drip down between your ass cheeks onto the mattress. The very mattress Eddie was currently gently grinding his hips against. His lips wrapped around your clit to suck on it and it was almost too much if it hadn’t been for the fact that he pulled away from you and made you buck your hips against nothing. He took your hand in his and guided it to his other hand, tapping the dents between his knuckles one by one.

“Left for softer, middle for harder, right for pulsating.” He traced a circle on top of his hand with your finger. “Do that for a surprise and lastly, flat hand on mine means stop. Oh, and use my hair to drag me up or down. ‘Kay?”

You nodded, though you felt compelled to mention that you could also just tell him these things. He smiled knowingly and shook his head.

“Toys don’t talk, baby. Nor do they understand your pleads for mercy. I’m just your toy for the moment, doing whatever it is you like.”

As if those words already didn’t nearly make you come on the spot. You nodded again, rested your hand near his own as he took hold of your thighs again, only this time he didn’t keep you in place. Tentatively, you tapped the dent between his first and second knuckle. Immediately Eddie dove back in with enthusiasm. His tongue flicked over your sensitive bud countless times and sure enough, when you tangled your hand in his hair to push him down he complied instantly. His tongue dragged through your folds and you could feel a faint buzzing whenever his nose happened to hit your clit. Curiously, you moved your finger between his second and third knuckle.

“Oh fuck!”

Setting one was nothing compared to setting two. It had you clawing the sheets and it took you everything not to immediately squish your legs together. You moved your hips against his face without holding back and a barely suppressed moan left Eddie’s lips. You had half the mind to smile to yourself, as toys also don’t moan, but you knew he’d moan ten times as much had it been any other situation. The guy loved eating your pussy.

“N-Normally I imagine how you moan against me, it’s so— hot, when you do that. It’s like I can almost hear it.”

Eddie’s brows furrowed just a little, as if he was thinking, considering… His moans slowly started to pick up and his hips rutted the bed harder. 

“That’s it, god that’s it, oh god—” 

Your lingering smile quickly disappeared when your finger had, apparently, unknowingly dragged a circle over his hand. Your vibrator definitely didn’t have this setting. He spit straight onto your clit and sucked it between his lips. Without losing suction, his tongue grazed over it in rapid speed making you moan loud enough for the whole block to hear you despite your closed windows.

“Eddie, Ed, fuuuuck baby please!”

You could only chant his name as your orgasm washed over you with an intensity you had never experienced. Your legs squeezed together while you rode his face, hand guiding his head by grasping his locks not too gently. He groaned softly, loving how you used him until it became too sensitive. Normally Eddie would move away from you at the perfect time, knowing your bodily reactions well enough to know when to pull himself off. Except… he didn’t stop this time. You let go of his hair but his tongue followed when you attempted to move and you desperately tried to remember the sign for stop in your dazed state. Was it two fingers between his knuckles? Your legs started to shake as he started to slowly pulsate his tongue against your clit. Wrong gesture. Had this one even been mentioned? Was it a combination? Another attempt got him to speed it up and your hand flew back to his head again as you tried to pull him off. Apparently that was not part of any setting.

“I f-forgot—” you mewled and the softest chuckle left him. “I’m- I’m gonna—”

A second orgasm followed quickly and you grasped his hand desperately, finally making him stop. He selfishly delayed moving back completely by noisily lapping up all of your juices first, as he simply couldn’t help himself. His bangs stuck to his forehead and his whole face gleamed in a mixture of sweat and come. He crawled upwards and laid down next to you, taking you in with a lazy smile before he wiped off his chin with the back of his hand and gave you a kiss. You kissed him back eagerly, your fucked out state wanting nothing more than his sweet touches now. His hand came up to cup one of your breasts and he gently started playing with it. Squeezed and jiggled it, flicked his thumb over your nipple until it hardened again. He often played with them when you were both just relaxing in bed, or the couch, or wherever else his hand would naturally be close (in a private setting - most of the time).

“Hey baby,” he whispered softly before pressing another kiss on your cheek this time. “Forgot to play with your tits so I’m catching up now. You mind? Don’t want them to feel neglected.”

You were still catching your breath so you simply nodded and relaxed your head against his shoulder. His hand occasionally moved from one breast to another, his tongue poking out in concentration sometimes.

“What about you?” 

Eddie looked down at his underwear that didn’t really reveal anything at the moment and smiled bashfully, his face disappearing into your neck out of shyness. 

“Uh. Eating you out was enough for me baby.”

A smile teased your lips and you combed your fingers through his hair. You left kisses along his temple and let your hand wander down his chest to his stomach. His breath hitched just a little and when your hand disappeared into his boxers and you wrapped your hand around his half hard erection which was slick from the come that had dripped down. He bit your neck and whimpered.

“I think you’ve got one more in you, what do you say baby?” Your whisper had him buck his hips into your hand. His teeth sunk in harder followed by licks to soften the burn and his voice was more of a whine when he spoke.

“Please.”

———————————————————

You were watching a movie, but you weren’t exactly watching it. Your eyes were focused on the screen, sure. But your mind was with the cock your hand was wrapped around while your thumb spread around the precome that had gathered at the top. Not only that, your mind was also very much with the fingers teasing your clit menacingly slow. You both loved to spend about a whole movie duration teasing each other before you had sex. You didn’t always last until the end of the movie before you hurried to the bedroom and sometimes all the action happened while some talk show ran its course. Today it was a matter about who would give in first. Judging by Eddie’s short bursts of breaths, you guessed it would probably be him.

Your mind wandered off to two weeks ago, when he decided to be your vibrator for a day. You have had plenty of sex since then, but not… Like that. That had been something else. He had bought you a new one shortly after, with all kinds of new functions you hadn’t even tried. Your distraction was noticeable in your actions as your hand slacked in movement and Eddie tilted his head to the side as he impatiently bucked up into your hand once.

“Where’s your pretty head at?”

“Sorry, I was just thinking.”

“Uh-huh, gathered. ‘Bout what?”

“Well… now that you got me a new vibrator… Does that mean you’ll be out of service?” You asked him with big doe eyes. Eddie snorted and bit his lip to let his self satisfactory grin pop up a little slower.

“Baby, the Munsonator is at your service anytime you want. Just let me know so I can down some caffeine first,” he told you with a hand on his chest and a salesman grin.

“Munsonator?” You giggled and Eddie slapped your clit playfully, making you yelp. He scolded you softly.

“Don’t laugh. I believe you gave it a 20/10 review last time. Better get used to the name cause it ain’t changing.”

You stroked him a little tighter, making him whimper and look at you offended. A shrug.

“You slapped first.” 

“But you like that, baby.”

You glanced at him seriously and slowly but deliberately spread a new serve of precome around the head.

“So do you, it seems.”

“When you squeeze me like a tube of toothpaste? Of course something slips.”

“Mhm sure,” you sighed and loosened your grip to the point that you were barely touching him. He only lasted about fifteen seconds before he started to complain and searched for friction by moving his hips around.

“Oh come on, baby.”

You continued.

“Sweetheart.”

A smirk teased your lips but you didn’t budge. Suddenly, the phone went off and Eddie got up to pick it up but not before slicking his fingers through your folds and sucking them clean as he walked away with a shit-eating grin at the sudden whimper that left you. You couldn’t follow the conversation but when Eddie returned, it was obvious he wasn’t happy.

“Rain check, princess. Idiot Gareth’s car won’t start. I bet he barely even tried.  Asked if I could pick him up at a bar he just called from. So…”

Eddie palmed himself, the head of his dick still poking out above his waistband from the half assed attempt to pull them up just now.

“Shit. Why did he have to call, man,” he groaned, rubbing his free hand over his face. You wordlessly beckoned him closer with your fingers and the subtlest hint of a smile and mischievous glint in his eyes popped onto his face. Once he stood in front of you, your face was lined up perfectly with his cock as it had many times before in that exact position. He cupped your face, smirk widening as he rubbed his thumb over your bottom lip.

“Gonna help me out real quick, sweetheart?”

A teasing grin grew on your face as you nodded. “Didn’t tell you to come here for no reason big boy,” you mumbled while your hands already pulled his boxers back down. As you moved your hand towards his mouth, he knew to spit and did so after licking your hand. Just because he could. You rolled your eyes lovingly and started pumping his hard length with the slick that he had gathered for you and soon enough he threw his head back with a groan. His hand flew to your hair, keeping you in place as he thrust himself forward. He looked down, eyes lustful. You felt his cock twitch in your mouth.

“Can I please fuck your face baby, please please please?”

Three quick taps against his thigh sufficed for your answer and he wasted no time thrusting his hips back and forth into your warm mouth. Whenever he took control, he often didn’t last long. Got the job done with an overwhelming enthusiasm. He could do it slowly, obviously, but in situations like these the goal was to come quickly. He whimpered, words leaving his lips hard to decipher as he got closer to his release.

Hips stuttered as his breath hitched, a groan loud enough to wake the neighbor’s hamster escaped his lips as he released himself into your mouth.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuuuuuck,” he was rambling now, chasing the remnants of his high as he scrunched his brows together. “FUCK. Baby…” It was a near whine that slipped from his lips when you let go of him with a pop of your lips and licked him clean from whatever cum had slipped past. He cradled your cheek, watching in awe as he nearly always did. Always in disbelief that you were his.

“Now, off you go,” you told him with a sweet smile before you pulled your shorts back on and got up from the couch to give him a kiss. You knew he wanted it. The man loved tasting himself on your tongue. Before Eddie could lose himself in your kiss, hands digging harshly into your sides, you leaned back and pecked him one last time on the corner of his mouth.

“I’ll make it up to you tenfold when I get back. Promise. ‘Kay?” He gave you a nod for emphasis.

“I’ll be waiting.”

And waiting you did. 30 minutes turned into an hour, an hour turned into two. It wasn’t the first time that a quick visit to Gareth turned into a whole evening and normally you wouldn’t mind as much. But he promised. Besides, you had no idea what to do with dinner now. Did he have some yet? Were you getting takeout? Should you just order for yourself? You were slightly worried, but since it had happened before you tried to shake it off. Since you weren’t really hungry, but still quite horny (thanks for nothing, Eddie), you made your way to the bedroom and grabbed your brand new vibrator. Well, brand new save for a few times. You were still getting used to all the extra functions the old one didn’t have. The fact that it wasn’t just a straight stick but rather one that aligned better with your body was also new to you. It was easier and more comfortable to insert and it even came with a part that hit your clit just right simultaneously. To top it all, it had a suction function you found a little intense still and five vibrational settings instead of three. Eddie had really gone all out with getting you a new one.

Once you made yourself comfortable, you started by using just your hand at first, gathering slick from between your folds to spread all over to help the toy along in its movement. Upon trying the suctioning again, your hips bucked as the feeling brought you back to Eddie’s lips wrapped around your clit, sucking gently. Your hips bucked again involuntarily and gasps escaped your lips as you found the perfect angle to pleasure yourself on all your favorite spots. With your free hand, you teased your nipples to become even harder and you let your legs slack onto the bed. Moans left your lips with smaller intervals, the intensity of the toy picking up.

You didn’t hear him come in and loudly complain about Gareth. Moaning his name became your one and only priority and only when you suddenly felt a pair of lips wrap around your free nipple, your eyes opened. You were so close when he kissed you feverishly, tongues fighting for dominance as his hand wandered down to your core. With a quick but sudden motion he swatted the vibrator away, leaving it to gently buzz elsewhere on the bed. The helpless whimper that left you would have left him feeling guilty if he hadn’t already planned to blow your mind. He wandered down with ease to take over what he had taken away moments before and with only his tongue he managed to give you the most intense orgasm you had had in weeks. He overstimulated you a little until you begged him to stop and something told you he was punishing you for continuing on your own.

“Eddie, please,” you whimpered, hand tugging on his hair not too gently. He smirked and kissed his way back up your body until he could lay down next to you at eye level. His eyes met yours, hand coming up to smooth down your hip. The buzzing of the vibrator entered his mind again and he briefly scowled as he reached back to turn it off.

“What do you have that I don’t, huh?” He mumbled to the vibrator as he moved it around in his hand. He couldn’t help but wonder about it all. A smile played on your lips.

“You should try it. I bet it can feel good for you too.”

Eddie turned his head in surprise, cheeks heating up as he put the vibrator back down on the bed. It was as if you had read his mind.

“Uh…”

“If you want to, of course. I mean… it’s pretty great but if it’s not your thing—”

Eddie shook his head a little too eagerly for someone who had never thought about using a vibrator on himself. You figured as much, with all the “subtle” questions he’d had about it.

“No, no, I want to, I just… I thought maybe you’d find it… weird?” he said hesitantly, trying to avoid your gaze a little.

“Why would I find it weird?”

A shrug.

“Because.”

“Baby, I’d find it hot.”

Eddie lifted his head again, looking at you for sincerity. To make sure you weren’t making fun of him. He knew you wouldn’t, you would never. But still.

“Really?” He sounded hopeful and it was at that moment you were certain he had been curious for a while. You took his hand in his and nodded.

“Really. So hot. Wanna see you fall apart when you use it. Maybe… I could use it on you sometime. But you should probably explore yourself first, I think.” you told him softly. His fingers pressed against yours until they slid between the gaps and he sighed, eyes on your interlocked hands.

“Dunno about that. I kinda like the idea of you being with me, guiding me through it or whatever.” He was properly blushing now and he looked quite endearing.

“Baby. I’d love nothing more.”

His shoulders sagged in relief and he gave you the sweetest kiss.

“Alright, then I really want to try it.”

FIN

[eclecticqueennerd]

Confessions

Part 4

*language, drug use, mild violence, angst*

After finding Soldier Boy roaming around a neighborhood in New York, you and Hughie stashed him away in some janky motel to which Hughie promptly texted Butcher to tell him the address. Soldier Boy sat on the creaky bed across the room, head in his hands while you and Hughie watched from a distance.

“Can you believe that bitch sold me out to the Russians? Man, I thought she loved me.”

“It never fails that our loved ones find some way to disappoint us.” You lament. Hughie looks at you and shook his head, almost pleading with you not to speak further. Soldier Boy looks up and meets your eyes.

“I thought that they were my friends. But in the end, they fucking hated me. They weren’t even paid!” You noticed a light glowing coming from under his shirt, similar to the glow you first saw back in Russia when Kimiko was attacked. Hughie shifted closer to the door but you slowly approached Soldier Boy and knelt in front of him. You placed a hand on the top of his,

“I’m so sorry. It seems that some people don’t understand the concept of loyalty nowadays. Your pain, I get it.” The two of you stayed there for a few minutes, eyes locked. God you seriously hoped this calms him down otherwise you’re all fucked. The glowing dissipated and Soldier Boy looked to the ground, taking a deep breath and gave a curt nod.

You backed up and sat at the table next to the bed. He wants validation, if it means we don’t fucking die, I can give him that. Silence fell upon the room and then,

“Your friend is taking forever; can I get a burger and some reefer while we wait? I’m fucking starving.” Hughie looked at you expectantly, you sighed. Soldier Boy caught the transaction.

“No not her, she stays. You go get it twig.”

“But-“

“It’s okay. I’ll get it. Imma use the bathroom real quick.” You hear pounding on the motel door as you step out of the bathroom. This made both you and Solider Boy jump. Hughie looked through the peep hole and opened the door.

“Ugh, God dude you stink. You need a shower.”

“Nice to see ya too ya prick.”

“What were you even doing last night? Drinking the whole bar?”

“Maeve dropped by with some more Temp-V, we started drinkin’ and one thing led to another…” Butcher turned around and saw you standing in the doorway to the bathroom. Aww fuck, he thought.

It was like someone punched you through the chest and ripped out your still beating heart. Butcher will work with a supe, he will be a supe, he’ll even fuck a supe, but he’ll never love one. You walked past the three men towards the door to leave.

“Make sure you get extra bacon!” Soldier Boy calls out.

*

Good goddamn that line in the lobby for burgers was too long. You do your best not to lose your temper with the workers, they’re being paid shit wages, working for a shit company just to get by in this shit world. You succeed in your efforts and even go so far as to lash out some of your anger towards a Karen waiting for extra ketchup packets busy berating some poor bright-eyed teenager. You turned the corner and then your phone notification goes off,

-He wants bennies too- Yeah, fuck you, Butcher you thought as you opened the gated door, punched in a string of numbers into the keypad and descend the stairs to the dealer Butcher recommended. How convenient that your two destinations were close by to each other.

“You must be y/n, about time! Butcher said you’d be here 30 minutes ago.”

“Hey sorry I’m late, I had to pick something up before this and it took a while.”

“I don’t care, you got the money?”

“Yeah, and I need bennies too.”

“I need bennies too.” The dealer said in a mocking tone. You let the attitude pass and toss the dealer a pile of bills, he counts it and then pockets the cash.

“You’re short.”

“The hell I’m fucking not. Count it again.”

“You think I’m fucking dumb and don’t know how to count? You’re short.”

“Come on, you really think I’m gonna stiff ya?”

“You know and work with Butcher, but I don’t know ya and I don’t trust ya.”

“Yeah well, I aint Butcher, you can trust me. It’s all there.” The dealer approached you quickly and withdrew a pocketknife and held it to your throat.

“You better not fuck with me. Now give me the rest of my money bitch.” With all the events happening lately, you couldn’t contain your rage and snapped. You pushed the dealer far enough away to give the dealer a backhanded slap and a loud crack echoed through the den. The dealer fell to the floor, limp. Realizing what you just did, you knelt and checked for a pulse. Fuck, I just killed the bastard. You took the cash from his pocket and grabbed the pot and bennies and left the hideout.

*

Walking into the motel room, you set your key onto the nightstand and set the food items down on the dining table. Soldier Boy got up from the bed and made his way to the table and started eating his fries. You took the open chair across from him and rubbed at your temples.

“Fuckin took ya long enough. Almost had to send out a damn search party to go find ya.” Butcher exclaimed, throwing his magazine to the side as he approached the table.

“I don’t see why you care.” Butcher’s eyes go dark.

“I believe it or not I care that you get taken, again. I just don’t want you gettin all fucked up and spillin the beans about what me and the boys are up to.”

“You know what Butcher?” you rose from your seat and got in his face. Butcher had a slight look of surprise in his eyes, but it went as quickly as it came.

“If you two are gonna bitch and moan, do it outside and let me enjoy my burger in peace.” Butcher and you stared at each other, neither of you budging from your spot. Your blood was on fire with rage. You’re fucking tired of being treated like shit from Butcher and goddamnit if he wanted to fight, fight you will. Soldier Boy, mouth full of burger said,

“You, Queen Elizabeth, get the fuck out and take the twig with you.” Butcher’s mouth curled up into a smug grin.

“Come on Hughie, we got shit we gotta do.”

You sat back on the chair hard while holding your face in your hands after the motel room door slammed shut. God he’s so infuriating! You wanna yell at Butcher, you wanna fight him, you wanna throw shit, you wanna cry out all your frustrations. But you can’t. Soldier Boy doesn’t need a first-class ticket to your inner turmoil and he’s unstable enough without the addition to all your bullshit.

“Lover’s quarrel?”

“We’re not lovers.”

“Coulda fuckin fooled me.” Soldier Boy spilled the bennies on the table and took his knife out. Using the butt end of the knife he crushed the pills into a powder and snorted them.

“What’s his problem?” You look at him while he wipes the leftover dust on his nose.

“What isn’t Butchers problem?” you retorted.

“What’s his problem with you?”

“That I’m a supe.” Soldier Boy was expecting you to elaborate but you didn’t, that’s the gist of it.

“That’s it?”

“Yeah.”

“What a fuckin pussy.” You giggled but then it morphed into full blown gut busting laughter. You’ve never heard anyone call Butcher a pussy, they were all too scared of what he’s do to them and lately yeah, Butcher has been acting like a pussy. You missed his smirk and glint in Solder Boys eyes while he watched you laugh. By the time you’ve settled down, tears were streaming down your face.

“Ugh, sorry.” You said, looking around trying to find something to wipe them off with. Soldier Boy reached into his bag and produced a napkin for you.

“Don’t be. He must’ve put you through some shit.”

“Yes, he has.”

“You should get back at him.” You gave Soldier Boy a puzzled look. “And by get back at him I mean show him he has no power over you. Best way to get under a guy’s skin, is show him you don’t fuckin need him.”

Soldier Boys right. You don’t need Butcher, he needs you. You’re the one that holds the group together, you’re the one that patches everyone up after a fight, you’re the one that comes up with creative ways of getting a job done.

“By the way, nothing’s wrong with you for being a supe. A real man would stand by his girl no matter what.” Butterflies began in your stomach, you glance down at the table.

“Unless that girl pawns him off to the Russians.” Your eyes went wide, and Soldier Boy let out a gut bursting laugh. You cracked a smile and chuckled slightly.

“Thanks for the pep talk Solider Boy.”

“Not Solider Boy. Call me Ben.”

[joeyalohadream]

Modern AU Clegan Fic Attempt

I haven't written anything in years but these men inspire me so I'm dusting off the cobwebs. Here's a short fic I panic wrote and posted. Featuring Health Teacher/Baseball Coach Bucky and Substitute Teacher/Waiter Gale! (Also, sick! Buck, worried! Bucky)

- - - - - -

The coffee from the teacher’s lounges archaic machine is bad enough for John to consider giving up his caffeine addiction. He grimaces as he takes a sip and turns away from the counter to scan the small room.

Croz and Bubbles are sharing the loveseat, no doubt discussing the upcoming theater production when they should be discussing midterms. He smiles at them as they look up and catch his gaze. They know he’ll be the last one to tell them to focus on the academics rather than the extra-curriculars.

His first and second period Health classes are over and he’s free from the classroom until the final period of the day. Extra-curriculars are his forte after all. This quick pit-stop in the lounge before heading to his true domain in the gym offices to meet with Rosenthal to discuss this evening’s baseball game is still a necessity.

He ignores the attempted eye contact from all the other staff he can feel on him as the door to the lounge opens and in walks Bucky’s necessity for standing in this uncomfortable room, drinking the equivalent to muddy water.

Bucky pushes his weight off the counter as soon he sees that beautiful head of blonde hair push through the heavy oak door. His favorite substitute teacher, best friend and soon to be something much more if he has any say in it walks into the lounge at the same time each morning, and today is no exception.

They met at the end of last school year, spent the summer becoming friends and have been on four dates in the last three weeks. Bucky is smitten and everyone knows it. Well, everyone but Gale, but Bucky is slowing but surely showing him that he’s worth a damn.

Bucky watches as Gale looks around the room, taking in his surroundings as he does in every new space he walks into. It takes only a moment for those blue eyes to meet his and Bucky is still blown away by the relief and happiness he sees shine through them when Gale finds him each day.

Bucky smiles and Gale smiles back as they meet at the table between them. There is a pinched expression to Gale’s face that he isn’t accustomed to seeing, especially at work, but he does earn himself his favorite fond eyeroll when he rushes forward to pull the other’s chair out for him like a proper gentleman.

Gale takes a seat and leans forward, hunching over the table.

“Good morning sunshine,” Bucky greets with a smile.

“Morning John,” Gale returns. That low rumbling voice always gives Bucky a good start to his day, but today it seems rougher.

One of his favorite pastimes nowadays is looking at Gale, so he takes the opportunity to do so now. He takes in his hunched posture, the slight furrow between his brows and notices a slight flush to his cheeks. One of his other favorite pastimes is making the other blush, but nothing in this morning’s interaction warrants that reaction. Concern rushes through Bucky immediately and he leans into Gale’s space.

“Buck,” he keeps his voice low, knowing that Gale hates unwarranted attention. “Are you feeling alright?”

Bucky watches as a myriad of expressions crosses Gale’s expressive blue eyes. Surprise, confusion, fear for a moment before it’s hidden away, and finally fondness. It breaks Bucky’s heart how easily shocked Gale is by the evidence that someone cares about him enough to show it.  

“Yeah, I’m okay John,” Gale replies, voice still too rough for Bucky’s liking, and that’s saying something because he loves Gale’s low timbre. “Stomach isn’t feeling the best still, but I’m alright.”

Last night, Gale had cancelled their dinner plans because of a stomach ache and Bucky had thought nothing of it, especially after he and Gale had made up for the missed date by staying up late talking on the phone until they both fell asleep. Now though, Bucky thinks something of it.

“I don’t think a tummy ache is supposed to last 24 hours,” he informs the other and gets another one of his favorite eye rolls in return for his childish word choice. He reaches forward and sets his hand on Gale’s forward and feels a little too much heat there before his hand is batted away. “And they’re definitely not supposed to give you a fever, Buck.”

The seriousness of his tone makes Gale hunch further in his seat and stare at the table and Bucky has grit his teeth for a moment before he begins again. He reaches across the table and places his hand on Gale’s arm, letting his thumb stroke the joint of his wrist.

“Buck if you’re sick,” he begins in his most soothing voice, “it’s okay to take the day. Better than okay, honestly.” He watches Gale swallow and shake his head a fraction before finally retuning his gaze. Bucky has to school his expression to avoid reacting overtly to the pain he sees in the other’s eyes. He just can’t tell if it’s physical or stemmed from memories of whatever happened to make him think he doesn’t deserve any kindness or care when he’s feeling under the weather.

“Please Buck,” John implores. “You have one class to sub this afternoon and its band. You don’t even play an instrument; they won’t miss out on your genius teaching like the math and science kids would.”

Gale’s eyes narrow, “How do you know that?”

“That you don’t play instruments? Gale, you can’t dance for shit, you have no rhythm. You think I’d believe you have a musical bone in your body?” Bucky teases.

Gale scoffs quietly, but it turns into a grimace, and he presses a hand to his side. Bucky frowns.

“No,” Gale says, and Bucky is ready to protest, before Gale continues. “How do you know that’s my only class today?”

Bucky smiles and would feel sheepish for his response, except for the fact that he is completely smitten with Gale Cleven and feels no need to hide that fact since everyone already knows.

“Well, you told me last night and I remember literally every word you speak to me,” he smiles as Gale ducks his head and he see’s the hint of that shy smile he loves. “And I check your schedule on the Teacher Portal online every morning so that I can accidently run into you in the hall every now and then.” He finishes with a wink that has Gales’s cheeks blooming even more crimson.

“You’re ridiculous John,” Gale tells him, looking at him from under his lashes and John wants to take him home, bundle him up, spoon feed him soup and rub his belly.

“And you’re sick, Buck.” He fixes Gale with a look that can only be described as mixed with worry and fondness. Gale returns the look, assessing him for a moment before letting out a sigh and Bucky knows he’s won.

“Okay John, I’ll go talk to Principal Harding and head home for the afternoon.” Bucky can tell that Gale is disappointed in himself for a perceived failure and he feels that familiar ache in his chest he gets often when he gets glimpse into Gale’s complicated history. But he is happy he seems to have won this battle.

Until Gale’s words register, and he lowers his eyebrows to give Gale an assessing look. Gale looks back innocently, hand once again pressed to his side, looking like he’s working up the momentum to stand.

“Head home for the afternoon, huh?” Bucky questions. Gale meets his gaze. “You wouldn’t happen to have a shift at Curt’s tonight, would you? Because you definitely didn’t mention that last night.”

Gale rolls his eyes but doesn’t deny it. “Ham had to call off because his mom is real sick. I just got the text an hour ago and agreed to cover.”

“Well un-agree. No need to be waitin’ tables when you’re real sick too Buck,” Bucky states.

He receives a frown, in return. “I’m not sick, I just don’t feel well,” Gale clarifies.

Bucky guffaws and shakes his head. “You’re in pain, you have a fever and your voice is shot to shit. What’s the damn difference Gale?” He can’t manage to keep the frustration out of his tone, but he does try.

Gale makes himself smaller in his seat and Bucky hates himself a little. He squeezes Gale’s hand and is rewarded with a palm turned and grasping his. “I’ll go home.” Gale mutters. He looks up at Bucky for a moment and moves to stand.

Bucky moves with him, especially when he sees him grit his teeth as he straightens out his lean torso. His hands hover but Gale looks pointedly at the clock on the wall and shakes his head. “You better get going, Rosie is probably waiting on you to talk strategy for your game against the polka dots tonight.”

He gives Bucky a small smile that makes him feel less like he fucked this all up. He glances around the lounge and sees that they don’t have much of an audience, so he reaches up and cups Gale’s cheek, smiling when Gale leans into the touch.

“Please call Curt and tell him you can’t come in tonight,” he strokes the too warm cheek and wishes he could follow Gale home and take care of him. “I’ll call you when the game is over tonight, and I’ll come by with some soup.”

Gale looks a little surprised by his words and there’s that flare in Bucky’s chest again, but he pushes it aside and smiles at this beautiful man. Gale’s eyes soften and he gets one of his favorite shy smiles in return.

“Sure, Bucky.”

- - - - - - - - - - -

They’re at the bottom of the eighth inning when Bucky finally gives in to the urge to check his phone. He hasn’t heard from Gale since well before the game began when the other had informed him that he was going to lay down for a bit.

Now John has spent the last few hours worrying and hating that he’s worrying, but also loving that he gets to worry about Gale; because what else could be a better use of his time than worrying about the most beautiful, sweet, gentle human being he’s ever met.

He pulls his phone out of his bag, and it only takes a few seconds to feel the disappointment that he hasn’t received any new messages or calls from Gale. That disappointment is immediately replaced by confusion and then worry when he realizes that he has half a dozen missed calls from Curt.

There’s one text from Curt that clenches his gut and has him signaling to Rosie that he needs to make a call:

Curt: Call me ASAP asshole, its blue eyes.

Curt calls Gale blue eyes, and Bucky can’t breathe for a moment. He has the phone to his ear and it takes three rings for Curt to answer.

“Bucky!”

“Biddick!”

Bucky groans as they speak over each other.

“Is something wrong with Buck?! What’s going on?!” Bucky breathes through his nose and clenches the phone. Curt’s heavy accent comes though immediately and he sounds flustered.

“Bucky, thank god! I tried calling yous’ a million times!” Bucky rolls his eye because six is not a million but relents. “Buck came in to serve for Ham tonight but he wasn’t lookin’ to good, you know. I tried to send him home but he gave me those puppy eyes and said he really needed the money, so I let him go on the floor.”

Bucky closes his eyes and runs a hand through his curls, frustrated and at a loss for what to do about his man. Gale makes him feel so much without even trying.

“Let me guess,” Bucky says into the receiver. “He couldn’t get a tray of drinks out to one table before you had to send him home.”

He hears Curt take a breath and waits for the confirmation that he needs to stop by the grocery store and the pharmacy before heading to Gale’s and possibly call off work tomorrow to play doctor in a very un-fun literal sense.

“Look Bucky, I don’t know how to say it, so Imma just say it,” Curt says. Bucky takes a sharp breath and feels panic in his chest. “He’s too damn good at pretending he’s okay when he ain’t. Give him a fuckin’ Oscar. He served for over two hours before he finally threw up and then passed out in the walk-in cooler. Yous coulda cooked an egg on his forehead, Bucky, and he wouldn’t wake up no matter what I did. Ambulance took him to St. Pete’s over an hour ago.”

Bucky can’t breathe.

[twoidiotwriters1]

The Curse of Oenone (Leo Valdez xFem!Oc)

A/N: Something something they're all sad -Danny Words: 2,081 Series' Masterlist Previous Chapter // Next Chapter Listen to: 'In My Place' -by Coldplay

LII: I Might Lay down and See if This Fixes Itself

"You know what pisses me off?"

"Many things nowadays," Leo replies from the crawlspace where he works.

"This project," Ara continues grumpily. "What the hell, dude? We're supposed to be honest with each other!"

"We're supposed to be boyfriend and girlfriend and you still call me dude," the boy responds, crawling out covered in grime and scowling. "What's your point?"

"Why didn't you tell me you wanted to rebuild Festus?"

Leo seizes the cloth hanging from his toolbelt and cleans his hands. "Festus was your baby first, I couldn't tell you and then fail—Didn't want to look stupid if it didn't work."

"Then why are you telling me now?"

"Because you think I don't know what I'm doing but I have a good plan here!"

"I don't like this thing you're doing to us."

"Ain't doing nothing, doll..." he walks past her. "It was done to me too, remember?"

Ara follows him downstairs to the cabins. "I don't think this is the best idea you can come up with, that's all. I think you're going easy on purpose."

He steps into his cabin and leaves the door open for Ara. "I thought Ithaca would help, and it didn't. We think wrong sometimes. You should bribe Janus so he tells us what to pick."

"Oh, don't get me started on that guy! He would make things more difficult for us on purpose, he thrives on indecision—all shades of gray and stuff." Ara looks around the room and gets distracted. "Gods, Leo, how do you sleep with all this mess?"

He snorts. "I don't. I just work here."

The girl gets confused. "You've only slept two nights in my cabin this week—where do you spend the night when I say no?"

Leo changes the subject. "I work better around clutter. If I don't figure out a way to make sure Festus won't crush me to death—"

"Have you been sleeping in the engine room?"

The boy raises his voice in frustration. "Listen to what I'm saying!"

Ara looks at the bulletin board: Leo's drawing of the Argo II is accompanied by a picture of the crew who built it and another of Ara hugging Festus's head. She doesn't want to listen, Ara wants to hide under the blankets with him until the war is over and wants to go back to New York, hand in hand with Leo. 

Ara longs for the little things, and at the same time, she hates them because they make the things she aims for look frivolous and selfish. When Leo met her, she was obsessed with being useful and giving meaning to her death since she'd already concluded her life would be short and dramatic, yet uneventful when it came to being normal. 

Who is she to tell Leo not to aim for the big flashy sacrifice? In short, she's going insane. "I can't listen to this. I'm sorry."

Leo doesn't look surprised, this conversation has happened twice since he returned from Ogygia. Ara isn't ready to face what's coming, and Leo doesn't know what to do to help. The boy sighs, then pinches the bridge of his nose, he looks ten years older. Ara's ashamed of her cowardice, she could talk if they had a clear path ahead, but there is only a pitch-black void.

"I need to know," Leo is extra careful with his words because Ara won't like what he's about to ask her. "If I die for good, are you going to erase me from your stories like you did with Mike?"

Ara's gaze fires up like gasoline, but she says nothing at first. Her feet backtrack, like they always do when an argument hits too close, and then she freezes. Ara counts to five, if she doesn't take a second to think, she'll say bad things like she always does. 

Once her heartbeat is regulated she forces out a response. "I can't escape you like I escaped Michael. Helen left Troy but the guilt never left her. My soul has never known peace when it comes to you."

She thinks of her innocent memories with Leo, holding each other close until they couldn't keep their eyes open. She can't stand how much it hurts even while he's still with her, and it scares her to think it'll only get worse once he goes away.

"I've always been on the run, you know that," Leo sounds so serious it makes her skin crawl. "You're also the only person on this ship with whom I can act how I feel, and I need you to let us be ugly for once, or what we have is gonna rot no matter what we choose."

Ara runs her hands over her face. "I don't want this curse to be the thing that gives our relationship meaning—It will ruin it."

"We were never a perfect couple," he walks past her to exit the cabin. "But only you see that as a bad thing."

Ara gets to the Mess Hall and opens her mouth to speak, but a voice screams before she can even utter one word. "PUT SOME CLOTHES ON!"

"Jesus fuck!" The General jumps out of her skin.

"I thought you were getting rid of that stupid hologram." Piper glares at Leo.

"Hey, Buford's just saying good morning," he grins, stuffing his mouth with a brownie. "He loves his hologram! Besides, we all miss the coach. And Frank makes a cute bulldog."

Their friend turns back into a human and scowls. "Just sit down, Leo. We've got stuff to talk about. Ara, ready when you are..."

The girl sits at the head of the table, placing both hands on its surface to gather her thoughts. Leo sits between Jason and Hazel and grabs a bag of fonzies, a healthy breakfast to begin the day.

"How are you feeling, Jason?" Ara asks, trying to ignore how Leo didn't switch seats with Frank to be closer to her.

"I'm still breathing," Jason answers shortly. "So... we're going to stay airborne and drop anchor as close as we can to Olympia. It's further inland than I'd like—about five miles—but we don't have much choice. According to Juno, we have to find the goddess of victory and, um... subdue her."

"Defeat Victory," Ara already hates the idea. "And subdue her?"

"I'm cool with fighting the occasional goddess," Percy shrugs casually, "but isn't Nike one of the good ones? I mean, personally, I like victory. I can't get enough of it."

"It does seem strange," Annabeth agrees, anxiously tapping the table. "I understand why Nike would be in Olympia—home of the Olympics and all that. The contestants sacrificed to her. Greeks and Romans worshipped her there for, like, twelve hundred years, right?"

"Almost to the end of the Roman Empire," Frank nods. "Romans called her Victoria, but same difference. Everybody loved her. Who doesn't like to win? Not sure why we would have to subdue her."

"She's probably going insane over which side should be winning," Ara reasons. "The children of Nike are all competitive and they don't stop at nothing. I'm sure she's ten times worse."

"How do we defeat victory?" Piper asks worryingly. "Sounds like one of those impossible riddles."

"Like making stones fly," Leo retorts, "or eating only one Fonzie."

Ara and Hazel look at him with vastly different expressions. Hazel scoots away. "That stuff is going to kill you."

"You kidding? So many preservatives in these things, I'll live forever."

"That'd be convenient," Ara mumbles, stabbing an apple with Lily's dagger.

No one knows how to reply to that, except Leo. "You think Nike can give us pointers on how to defeat death? 'Cause that'd be promising."

Ara wants to dismiss his comment knowing he's just taunting her, but it makes sense. "That's... not a crazy idea. Desperate times..."

Frank raises a brow. "You think Nike would be willing to fight death?"

Annabeth makes a face. "Her kids never turn down a challenge. They have to be number one at everything—I wouldn't be surprised if she agreed."

"She sounds like Birdy," Percy smirks. "Are we sure you're an Aphrodite?"

Ara cuts a slice of apple with the knife and sends an unamused glance at her brother. Hazel continues. "But we've got to get the Greeks and Romans on the same team, right?"

"Maybe she's the problem," Jason suggests. "If the goddess of victory is running rampant, torn between Greek and Roman, she might make it impossible to bring the two camps together."

"How?" Leo asks. "Start a flame war on Twitter?"

"Maybe she's like Ares," Percy explains. "That guy can spark a fight just by walking into a crowded room. If Nike radiates competitive vibes or something, she could aggravate the whole Greek–Roman rivalry big-time."

Frank points at Ara and Percy with his spoon. "You remember that old sea god in Atlanta—Phorcys? He said that Gaia's plans always have lots of layers. This could be part of the giants' strategy—keep the two camps divided; keep the gods divided. If that's the case, we can't let Nike play us against each other. We should send a landing party of four—two Greeks, two Romans—"

"Ara shouldn't go," Jason says promptly.

The girl cuts another slice of the apple and frowns. "Elaborate?"

"I think—and I say this respectfully—that your fatal flaw would get everyone killed if you were to face Nike."

"Ambition and victory don't mix," Percy nods in agreement. "You should sit this one out."

Ara leans back, popping the slice into her mouth. "First of all, I never said I should go. Second, I never said I wanted to go. We should be careful to send a group that doesn't clash, so if I were you, I wouldn't send those two either," she points at Annabeth and Percy.

"Hey!"

"No, she's right," Annabeth sighs. "Athena and Poseidon have a rivalry, we don't know if Nike can use that on us, Percy. We don't want to do anything that might make the goddess, um, more unstable."

"I'll go," Piper offers. "I can try charmspeaking."

"Not this time, Piper," Annabeth shakes her head gravely. "Nike is all about competition. Aphrodite... well, she is too, in her own way. That's why Ara is so alike."

"I love being present for these conversations," Ara says sarcastically, driving another slice into her mouth.

"Who should go, then?" Piper insists.

"Jason and Percy shouldn't go together," Annabeth continues. "Jupiter and Poseidon—bad combination. Nike could start you two fighting easily."

Percy gave her a sideways smile. "Yeah, we can't have another incident like in Kansas. I might kill my bro Jason."

"Or I might kill my bro Percy," Jason replies.

"Which proves my point," Annabeth sends an annoyed glance their way. "We also shouldn't send Frank and me together. Mars and Athena—that would be just as bad."

"Okay," Leo sighs. "So Percy and me for the Greeks. Frank and Hazel for the Romans. Is that the ultimate non-competitive dream team or what?"

"It could work," Frank looks at Ara for approval. "I mean, no combination is going to be perfect, but Poseidon, Hephaestus, Pluto, Mars... I don't see any huge antagonism there."

Annabeth is waiting for her response too. Ara shrugs. "Well, if it were Hephaestus and Ares maybe there'd be a problem, but let's hope Roman and Greek don't click like that."

"I still wish we could've gone through the Gulf of Corinth," Hazel sighs. "I was hoping we could visit Delphi, maybe get some advice. Plus it's such a long way around the Peloponnese."

"Yeah." Leo's shoulders fall. "It's July twenty-second already. Counting today, only ten days until—"

"I know," Jason says defensively. "But Juno was clear. The shorter way would have been suicide."

Leo opens his mouth probably to joke about how he's doing that either way but his eyes find Ara's and his statement dies before it can even reach his vocal cords.

"No one is blaming you, Jason," Ara stares at her partially eaten apple. "Delphi wouldn't've been of any help. Something's going on, I think Apollo messed up one too many times."

"Juno said the twins might be willing to help us," Jason reminds her. "Perhaps that's what she meant. We help Apollo and he'll help us in return."

"A lot of unanswered questions," Frank mumbles. "A lot of miles to cover before we get to Athens."

"First things first," Annabeth's posture changes to one more energetic. "You guys have to find Nike and figure out how to subdue her... whatever Juno meant by that. I still don't understand how you defeat a goddess who controls victory. Seems impossible."

Ara and Leo lock eyes immediately. The masters of unlikely smile at each other, and Ara's expression is enough to lift Leo's spirits in a way no amount of good fortune could.

"We'll see about that." The boy winks at her before leaving the Mess Hall. "Let me get my collection of grenades and I'll meet you guys on deck!"

Next Chapter –>

Taglist.

@siriuslysirius1107 @ask-giggles1303 @im-planning-something-look @bandshirts-andbooks @coolninjapaper @thewaterlily @whenisthefall @1randomcomic @you-bloody-shank @sunflowergraves @owlalex44 @taylordaughter @typicalsolangelolover @writingmia @espressopatronum454 @slytherinnqueen @orbitingpolaris @obxstiles @ellipsisspelled @thepixiechicksh @ebony-reine-vibes

[thedo0zyslider]

I Love You (I'm Not Supposed Too) - Chapter Six: Secrets Kept No More - 4k Words

Fwhip finally finds out what Jimmy wanted to say all those months ago.

A03 Link

The next few days in the Ocean Empire were pretty routine. And boring. Every day is almost the same, save for a few moments when he and Jimmy would either sneak away together, or they got too tired of each other's presence and retreated to their chambers for a few hours. Other than that, they would wake up, and head to the Cod Empire to do whatever needed done. Helping a whole group of people properly establish themselves was a lot of work, work Fwhip hadn’t signed up for. But he helped anyways, because there was nothing else to do, not really.

The work was pretty standard, all things considered. They helped people get back on their feet, did boring government stuff Fwhip always zoned out on, like he did at home, built things, helped with the farms, and sometimes they were even put on babysitting duty. Though the half dragon wasn’t very trusted in that department for a few obvious reasons. Mainly the bigotry and his usual impulsiveness, but he didn’t mind. Fwhip was never a big fan of kids anyways. And then, at the end of the day, when the little tasks were done, they headed back to the Prisma Palace for dinner and whatever the Ocean Queen wanted them to do. If she wanted anything.

The half dragon is given a guest room, one with a giant, plush bed and a lot of decor on the wall. Merfolk liked to line their homes with shell and other such trinkets, as he’d come to notice, and the guest rooms were no exception. Just like the rest of the palace, his room was also very pink and blue and white. Fwhip thinks he could go his whole life without seeing this color palette ever again, and be perfectly content.

One morning, maybe a week or so into the trip, the future Count awakens earlier than normal. He doesn’t know why, but he does know the sun is streaming through his room’s window; meaning he should get out of bed pretty soon. He has a feeling the queen doesn’t take lightly to oversleepers, even if he had helped carry loads of stone and wood and whatnot around the swamp all yesterday and probably needed the extra rest. But whatever, her house, her rules, the ginger supposed.

He dresses in his normal attire, minus the black coat. He hates taking it off, but less layers means he won’t get as sweaty. Especially since he does manual labor most of the day, or a lot of walking. Fwhip was used to extreme heat in the forge, not the humidity of a swamp in the summertime. Also, it’s just less fabric to get all muddy and gross. His poor boots though will need to be deep cleaned when he’s home, all the shoes he brought with him will. It feels like there’s water permanently in the leather nowadays, even when there’s not.

But that’s not the focus right now. The focus is getting ready and then getting breakfast. Ocean cuisine was a little….unusual for his tastes, but he did like a few of the dishes. Disturbing meals including both salmon and cod aside. Thankfully those weren’t usually served at breakfast, so he could avoid them until dinner or lunch time most days. Usually .

Fwhip steps out of his door a few minutes later, right after he finishes his morning routine…..and realizes he doesn't have a clue where the dining hall would be in this gigantic place. He ate there for dinner the previous night, but this place is so huge compared to the Manor. He has no idea how to even get back there, despite having a small tour when he arrived. Also, it would feel very awkward walking in without Jimmy.

He mumbles something to himself, grumpy from another bad night of sleep. It was hard to get any rest with waves constantly roaring all night long. His sleep deprivation, which was worse than normal, was probably making the whole trip more unpleasant than it actually was. The Ocean and its Empire were quite pretty, one had to admit, and the half dragon was sure he’d enjoy it more if it would let him sleep .

The ginger walks down to Jimmy’s room as he grumbles, the only place in the Palace he’s somewhat sure of the location of. That and his guest room. Mostly because they are in close proximity to each other, likely done on purpose, and because they’re the two most important rooms he passes every evening. He thinks he’s figured out where the library (the above water one) is though. He thinks.

He finds the Prince’s room, with less struggle than he had a few days ago. Fwhip only turned the wrong corner a few times! Yesterday he’d done that like, six or seven, so, progress! And while he’s never really…..knocked on Jimmy’s door, he knows the other is awake around this time. The cod had woken him up from a restless sleep far too often, enough that was decently familiar with the others' general sleep shedulce. Visiting him real quick would be fine , especially if he got breakfast at the end of it.

Fwhip opens the door, and he really, really should've knocked. He opens the door to a shirtless Jimmy, presumably in the middle of changing, and it takes the half dragon a good minute of shocked staring to realize that a binder is covering his chest. Jimmy whips his head around to face him, some kind of fear clearly in his gaze. The future Count kinda wants to punch himself for being so stupid.

Once he has that realization, the half dragon feels himself start to fumble out of embarrassment. “Oh, shit , sorry —I didn’t know you were-" He stumbles over his words, feeling a blush start to creep up his face. He politely keeps his gaze on the floor, his hand searching for the doorknob once again. The young prince is not having any of this, and the half dragon can’t really blame him.

“Just leave, okay!?” The cod snaps at him, and Fwhip listens to this guy for what has to be one of the first times ever. He ducks his head back out as soon as he finds the knob again, closing the door behind him with a rather loud slam. Silently, he slides down against the nearest wall, and resists the urge to scream into his own hands. That had been mortifying for him, making that big of a mistake. He can’t even imagine how Jimmy must feel right now, being seen like that. Being seen in what has to be some kind of vulnerable moment, by someone he certainly doesn’t want to be vulnerable with.

He sits there, slumped against the wall for a few minutes; hands running over his face and through his now messy hair. The future Count isn't really sure what to do after…. that . Mainly there are just a lot of things going through Fwhip's head as he sits there. He's pretty flustered, not ever intending to do that, and is sure a fierce blush is currently coating his face. Part of him knows it might be better that he leaves, because Jimmy will very understandably be scared to next confront him. The other part doesn't feel right just leaving. He feels like he needs to apologize. No, Fwhip wants to apologize. He feels bad, which certainly is a new emotion around the young cod.

The castle is still quiet, and it seems their little encounter hadn't disturbed anyone, thank god. Fwhip didn't want their screaming to accidentally out Jimmy to anyone else, for he had already heard some terms the staff used towards the prince. No servants have even begun moving towards the hall yet, and no footsteps can be heard in the distance. The Ocean Empire has rather quiet mornings, as opposed to the Grimlands rather loud and explosive ones. Which is good right now, he supposes. A quiet castle gives you more time to regain your bearings.

There is some shuffling by the door, and the doorknob starts to turn once again. Fwhip, still pretty stricken by the whole ordeal despite his best efforts, looks up in surprise. His suitor doesn't emerge instantly, taking his time to fully leave his bedroom. But when he does, the sight only makes the half dragon feel even more guilty.

Jimmy slowly shuffles out, his bedroom door being shut quietly behind him. Probably not to disturb anyone else in any nearby rooms, if there are any. He's finished changing, now wearing a green tunic. Not a skintight one like merfolk usually wore, but one that was clearly meant for a bigger person. One clearly meant to hide things, Fwhip would now notice. He suspects it isn’t the first time Jimmy has denied his species traditional attire in front of him, and probably won't be the last. The cod's face is red, his eyes puffy, and a weak frown painting his face. Fwhip feels a sinking feeling in his stomach at the thought of Jimmy crying because of him and his dumb mistake.

"Are you okay?" He asks, meeting the others' gaze tentatively. The future Count has no idea if the other is angry at him and, for once, wouldn't blame him if he was.

"I'm fine." Jimmy says, and it is clearly a lie. He's shaking, and leaning on the wall for support. Like he'll collapse and break down if he doesn't do so. It's not hard to believe that he will, either.

"You're shaking, and your eyes are red." Fwhip points out, scanning over the blonde's face. He's been crying his eyes out, that much is clear. So much so that if Lizzie were to walk by, she'd probably punch the future Count on the spot.

"Why do you care?" The cod asks, slumping down next to him. He's even surprised Jimmy wants to sit next to him after that, but he lets it happen anyway. They sit a few inches apart, not enough to touch, but not far enough to feel fully awkward. It's just enough space for the time being.

"Because I'm not stupid. I know what I just did." Fwhip says, feeling a frown stretching onto his face the longer this conversation goes on. He doesn't like the tone the other has, whatever it is. It's upsetting.

Jimmy forces a smile, and lets out a broken sounding laugh. “Well, didn’t want you to see my boobs. But you were gonna one day I guess, since the mar-”

“Don’t.” Fwhip cuts him off, running a hand over his face again. “Please don’t joke about….any of that stuff, okay? Not a good time.” It will come to concern Fwhip slightly, the kind of self hating jokes Jimmy makes about the marriage and himself. Because he'll make more in the future, and the half dragon will have to knock the habit out of him he supposes. “Also, not really our thing.”

“Sorry. Sorry. I know, bad joke. I’m just…a little upset.” The cod mumbles, hanging his head a bit. Not in shame, just lingering embarrassment. Fwhip feels a wrong sort of feeling settling in his stomach, and frowns. “And yeah…that’s not our thing.”

“I know….you’re probably upset.” He says, wholly sincere with Jimmy. Probably for like, the second time ever if he’s being honest. Because he would hate himself if he was anything but sincere under today’s circumstances. They were far too serious for his usual attitude. "Sorry about walking in without knocking or anything…I won’t do it again."

Jimmy takes a moment to respond, the back of his head hitting the wall with a dull thunking sound. "It's fine, really. You were gonna find out eventually. Probably. I just wanted it to be under…different circumstances is all."

Fwhip hums, and wraps his tail around his legs. It had been awkwardly laying on the floor before now, and it was…..strangely comforting to wrap it around himself. Even though he wasn't the one who needed comfort right now. "Sorry about that too."

"Not the worst thing in the world." Jimmy hums, watching his movement. He seems like he's zoning out a little bit, his mind wandering elsewhere. To other things and other trains of thoughts, more troubling ones probably.

"I kinda already knew. Thought I should mention that." Fwhip hums, glancing away to stare at the wall. He doesn't want to see Jimmy’s face when he responds, whatever that response may be.

"Oh?" Is all the cod responds with. He sounds…curious, and only that. Thankfully. Fwhip didn't know if the other would've been angered by that or whatever.

He glances back at Jimmy when he explains it, and is met with a look of slight curiosity. Which is fair, to Jimmy’s credit, he passes very well. Fwhip is just very good at noticing details. “When they told us about the marriage, our parents called you a princess and stuff. And the staff have been too. I just didn't want to assume anything, y'know?"

"Yeah, my mom's probably the reason for that. I didn't take them for… that type of person." The blonde nods, taking the others' explanation into consideration for a moment. The ginger would pay so much money to know what's running through his head right now.

"No, they're not like that." Fwhip confirms, briefly thinking back on his parents. Despite whatever way they might have failed him and his sister before, they had always been nothing but supportive of their children's identities. One of the few good qualities they both shared, if they shared any at all. "I could mention it to them….?"

The offer is said tentatively, but Jimmy looks so incredibly relieved at hearing it. "Please." He says, and Fwhip nods. He cannot help but wonder what hell this boy has been living through for so long, to be so relieved when even the most basic decency is shown to him.

“Sorry about how we left things, when you were forgotten at the manor. By the way.” The half dragon adds, somehow remembering to say sorry for that. Take that , memory issues. “I was just….I was starting to guess and didn’t know how to ask you.”

“It’s okay..” Jimmy says, trying to crack a smile. It's weaker than he would probably like it to be, but it's a start. Fwhip grins back, and neither of them have anything more to say. Not immediately, at least.

“You don’t…have a problem with it do you?” Jimmy nearly whispers the question into the silence. They've been sitting in quiet for a few minutes, and Fwhip had grown content to stare at the Palace's prismarine walls until one of them decided to move again.

Fwhip tilts his head to the side curiously, a little scared of what the other is about to ask. “With what?”

“With me being….with me having girl stuff. And you having to marry that. ” Jimmy spits out some of the words with such venom, that Fwhip is shocked by it. He feels a surprising wave of pity wash over him, for this boy he hates so much, and it's the first time ever he has to stop himself from hugging the young cod.

“No, I don’t. Why the hell would I?” He says, like it is the easiest thing to say. Because it is. To the blonde it's something he never expected to hear.

“Oh…” Jimmy sounds…..so genuinely surprised at his answer. “It’s just…some people would. Some people do. ”

“Those people suck.” His answer is spit out in an instance, full of more passion than he thought was possible. Those people do suck. They suck a lot .

“Yeah.” Jimmy agrees meekly, hesitantly slumping down and resting his head on the half dragon's shoulder. Fwhip lets him do so, not caring that a merfolk is touching him right now. He needs it a lot right now, he figures.

They sit in the silence for a few seconds once more, in the white and blue hallway of the Prisma Palace. Two people who should, and do, hate each other, but aren't really acting like it. They haven't had the energy to act like it for a while, Fwhip thinks, with how shit everything is. How the world constantly throws terrible things at the both of them and expects the boys to just cope . That's what it feels like, anyways.

Maybe it'll be better when they're older.

"You do know you're not the only one of us who's like that, don't you?" Fwhip mumbles, his cheek now resting against the blonde's head. He doesn't know how long they've been in the hallway, but the palace hasn't started its normal routine yet. So he guesses it can't have been too long. Maybe one of the maids or cooks will find them, and ask why in the bloody hell two royals are sitting in a dirty hallway, cuddling.

Jimmy gets a little excited, as told by his tail smacking the wall a few times before he realizes it's moving. "No…?"

"Well, Xornorth’s nonbinary, and Sausage is pretty gender nonconforming.” Fwhip says, trying to remember everyone who's come out so far. He doesn't know all their labels, if some people have any, but he tries his best to get them right. “And Shrub isn't entirely a girl."

"Oh…I didn't know that." Jimmy hums, sounding happier than he had before. The half dragon briefly wonders if, when the thirteen of them are together again, that a labels debrief would make some people feel more included.

"None of us are straight either, I don’t think." Fwhip might’ve not been up to date on all the labels, but he was pretty sure of that fact. That their whole group were all horribly not straight in some way, some more obviously than others.

Jimmy lets out an amused snort at that. "Of course." That's the right phrase for it really, of course . Of course all the royal children are queer as hell. Of course most of their parents suck too. How else would it be with their little group?

"Why're you being so nice to me over this?" The cod adds on after a moment, cautious, and has every right to be so.

Fwhip resists the urge to roll his eyes, and spits out the honest truth. He really wonders if Jimmy thought that lowly of him before, say, maybe twenty to thirty minutes ago. The half dragon wouldn’t be surprised if he did, not after everything. "I don't like you and I think you're annoying as hell, but I'm not cruel ."

"Thanks for that, I guess." Jimmy mumbles, sounding shocked and surprised again. Fwhip hears that tone, he’s heard it too many times today, and truly starts to wish the world would be kinder to this poor fishboy. Sans himself and his very justified hatred, of course.

"Don't thank me for treating you like a human being." The half dragon snorts, and fixes Jimmy with a look . He’s pretty sure the meaning of it goes right over the blonde’s head, too. The utter idiot “And we have that truce, remember? No being assholes ‘till we’re hitched?”

“Yeah…the truce. Almost forgot about that.” Jimmy mumbles, sounding a little thoughtful once again. Maybe he’s been full of thoughts this whole time, and Fwhip’s just shit at noticing. Or he’s running out of words to describe the cod, because they have never interacted like this before. He has a very limited vocabulary when it comes to describing Jimmy. Today he is running out of words he hasn’t used, and also adding new ones. “We’re not good at following it, are we?” Jimmy keeps talking, and Fwhip barely hears him, lost in his own thoughts it seems. He hated how easy that was to do.

(Adding new ones like sad , and mistreated , and stressed , and traumatized and a whole bunch of other words he has no more room for in the half dragon’s never ending whirlwind of a mind.)

“No, but I like to think we’ve gotten better.” He mumbles out a response, taking a few precious seconds to clear his head. They’ve certainly gotten better, or at least more tolerable of each other’s presence, because Fwhip isn’t pinning Jimmy into a wall and holding him hard enough to bruise anymore. They had to have gotten better, because his mental health hasn’t. Both of their have probably gotten worse over the years, actually.

“We have to be. Because they’re all buying it. Every single one of them.” Jimmy says, and it’s the most confident he’s sounded in a while, and will sound all day. He also sounds more than a little scared, and Fwhip can’t help but share the sentiment a bit.

“Good. Good.” He mumbles, and doesn’t want to admit that he feels some of the same fear. They are going along with this whole thing out of fear, it’s the whole reason why they’re even sitting here in the first place. Fear of judgment, of failure of duty, of disappointment. Of what their parents would say. Even if they don’t really talk about it, both of them know that’s what’s happening. Body language always says a lot more than both the boys wish it would.

Jimmy changes the topic back to their earlier, less daunting one. It seems a lot still weighs on his mind, which is to be expected with a situation and life like this. "I want to get…the surgery for it, but, ah.…my mum won't let me.."

"Well, maybe you can get it before the wedding….?" Fwhip threw out the suggestion lightly, and gave a small shrug of his shoulders. Before the wedding was a vague timeframe. Realistically, that could be as soon as they’re both legal adults, or within the next five years. But it was a time frame that they could aim for, and that was better than nothing. And if Jimmy's mom wouldn’t let him get that surgery, than Fwhip would be the one throwing him in front of the healers instead, shitty parents be damned.

He’d really had enough of shitty parents recently.

"Hmph, maybe…" Jimmy mumbles. He hopes the sound in the other’s voice is hope, faux or real. They need some positive emotions right now, he’s already feeling emotionally drained from the guilt and the shame and whatnot. It’s not even seven in the morning, either.

“The truce extends to that too, by the way.” Fwhip adds, nudging the others shoulder with his own. He feels a grin start to bloom on his face. One of his shit-eating ones that always makes Gem groan and Sausage mirror it.

The cod gives him a confused look, his face scrunching up with the feeling. He’s not despondent anymore, so that’s a win for Team Fwhip! Sadly the only win today, but he might get some more as the hours wear on, especially if he keeps this attitude up. “Whaddya mean?”

“That means if someone’s being a transphobe, I get to deck them in the face. Even when we're married.” Fwhip explains, his grin getting larger. He does one of his normal hand gestures as he speaks, like he does with all his other explanations. Jimmy, well accustomed to the half dragon’s quirks, pays it no mind.

“Even my mum?” Jimmy asks, and sounds a little stupid when he does.

Fwhip nods, and feels tension unknot itself and leave the cod’s body from where they’re still pressed together. “Even your mom.”

“Heh, thanks.” Jimmy giggles, eventually having to muffle the laughter with his hand after a few minutes. Aannddd that’s two wins for team Fwhip, all within a minute or so of the last one. He better savor these — and this rare companionship with Jimmy — while the moment allows and before their normal bickering starts up once again.

“Again, don’t thank me.” Fwhip shrugs again, his tail finally uncurling from around himself. He doesn’t need any comforting measures, not immediately anyways. The tense and upset mood from earlier is long gone, now replaced with something lighter, even if both the royal’s hearts are still heavy with a lot of things.

“Force of habit, being polite is.” The cod says, his own tail swishing dully against the floor. It’s good to see he’s cheered up, and not crying anymore. And also not having to think about all the terrible treatment he receives. It’s good.

“So I’ve noticed.” Fwhip snorts, watching as the other starts to stand up. Jimmy gives all his limbs a stretch, since they’re still probably stiff from the night’s rest, and then holds a hand down to the other boy. The half dragon takes it without any complaint, or grumbles under his breath about having to touch a fish. Jimmy just helps him up, and it's probably the most simple yet complex interaction they’ve ever had. To date, anyways.

The Prince then starts to move down the hallway, past his door to where Fwhip thinks the dining hall is. The dining hall and a million other passageways and rooms he can’t remember. Dumb castles and their dumb, beautiful architecture. “Let’s go get breakfast, or something.”

“And where are we going after that?” The ginger follows behind, already mentally preparing himself for another six or more hours of helping the dumb cod people out. Him and Jimmy might be cool for today, but that doesn’t mean he suddenly likes all that mud and grime the swamp carries. Jimmy hums, sounding a little cheeky, and like he has his own shit-eating grin now smeared across his face. “Well, mom never said we had to be in the Cod Empire today. I was just scheduled there for three days this week…”

“So we’re getting a free day?” Fwhip thinks everything about him visibly lights up, from his voice to his demeanor. The mere thought of a free day, of finally being able to hide in his guest room, or the castle’s library, or wherever this dumb kingdom invented stuff, was enough to make his tail wag slightly. Anything, literally anything , but the horrible swamps and gross water again was going to make him beam.

“Basically, yeah.” Jimmy confirms, turning a corner without even thinking. Fwhip envy's everyone who has the dumb Palace mapped out already, and doesn’t struggle getting around. So he basically envies everyone who lives there.

“Finally, time away from you.” The ginger huffs, gloved hands being shoved in his coat pockets. He tries to commit the winding corridors to memory again, and hopes it goes a little better this time.

“Finally.” Jimmy agrees, right as they reach the dining hall for breakfast. Either they walked really fast for some reason, or Fwhip��s memory of the place truly is horrible. He never thought it was that close to the bedrooms. But hey, they’re not serving fried salmon for breakfast again today, so as long as that keeps happening, he won’t complain about the proximity to food. Especially if a free day follows after it. He rarely ever gets free days, here or at home There’s always something, some project or dumb responsibility thing, to do. But now he’s finally getting one after what has to be months , maybe even years.

Maybe his stay in the Ocean won’t be so bad after all.

[melodygatesauthor]

Leave the Bottle

Maxim "Kapkan" Basuda X f!Reader

Part 1 of 28 in the February Fluff and Fuck 2023 Challenge

Day 1 Prompt - First Date

Summary: Your friend sets you up on a date with her husband's friend. Just when you think your night is ruined after your date doesn't show, and you worry you'll end up alone on Valentine's day, you find yourself pleasantly surprised by the evening's turn of events.

Tags/Warnings: SFW, Valentine's Day Date, alcohol drinking (not drunk), cute, just fluff, no smut, first date, romance, one-shot

Word Count: 3k

“You look great, but if you don’t hurry up you’ll be late.” Your best friend said with her hands on her hips behind you.

Your eyes peered at hers like daggers through the mirror. “I don’t even want to do this.” You said coldly, standing up and turning to face her. “This was your idea.”

“You’ll thank me when you’re getting dicked down by Corey’s hot friend.” She said with a chuckle.

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not sleeping with a guy on the first date.”

You looked back in the mirror, posing in the dress you picked out and adjusting your breasts. Haley jabbed at your face, fixing your makeup. She tugged at the way the dress hung on your shoulder and then stepped back and smiled at your appearance. You felt a little self conscious under her gaze.

“You look amazing.” Haley said. “Now go. Uber will be here any minute.”

She practically shoved you out of her bedroom, down the stairs, and into the foyer where her husband Corey stood. You waved to him nervously. He sighed heavily.

“Wow, you look really nice…” He said your name and smirked. “Kyle’s a nice guy, I promise you’ll have fun.” He chuckled as he opened the door.

“Thanks for setting us up.” You leaned in and hugged him before stepping outside.

The Uber arrived just as you got to the end of the driveway. You gave them the address to the restaurant on the nice end of town and then looked out the window. You felt nervous suddenly. You weren’t the type to put yourself out there and you felt your palms start sweating.

You started wondering about whether or not Kyle would be a nice guy as Corey claimed. It was possible that he only said that because it was his friend. What if he was a jerk to his dates? Then you started mildly panicking about proper date etiquette. Who was supposed to pay? It’s not uncommon nowadays for the woman to pay, but you also didn’t want to appear rude. It had been so long since you’d been on a date, you were regretting going. Part of you wanted to tell the Uber driver to turn around and take you back.

“Valentine’s date?” The driver asked.

Your voice caught in your throat. “Y-yeah.” You stammered.

“You shouldn’t worry so much, you look good.” He said.

The way he said it didn’t creep you out, it seemed more as an effort to boost your confidence, and it worked. You felt calmed by his words. He smirked in the rear view mirror as he pulled up to the restaurant. You handed him cash, throwing in an extra tip for the kind words, and stepped out of the car onto the sidewalk.

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” He said as you closed the door and clutched your bag.

It had been so long since you’d been on a date that you weren’t sure what the protocol was if the date wasn’t picking you up. Were you supposed to wait for them to show up and walk in together? Maybe you were supposed to get a table and wait for him? Or maybe he already had a table and he was waiting for you? All the confidence your Uber driver had given you started to fade as your mind raced.

That last thought was what made you walk into the restaurant. You would hate to make him wait for you. When you got inside, the place was busy. You expected nothing less on Valentine’s Day. You checked your phone, it was 6:23, he was supposed to be there at 6:30, so he still had time. 

It took a while for the hostess to work through the line. When you finally got up to her, you gave her a faint smile. “Do you have a reservation?” She asked.

“Yeah…” you gave her your last name.

“Perfect, your table will be ready in just a second.” She said, motioning to the waiting area.

You sat there for five minutes alternating between staring at your phone and staring out the window. No one matching Haley and Corey's description of Kyle came in, and with every happy couple walking in the door you felt more and more discouraged.

How embarrassing would that be if he didn’t show up? You thought.

The hostess called your name, jumping you from your thoughts, and you followed her to your table. The table was in the middle of the room, not your favorite place to be, but in a packed restaurant you didn’t have much of a choice. You’d never been to this place, despite living in the same town. It was on the fancier side, each table lined in a white linen cloth and dark red fabric napkins. The menu was small, and prices were high. A server came to the table.

“Can I start you off with something to drink?” She asked.

“Can I get some water, and do you have a wine menu?” You asked.

“Yes, right there ma’am.” She pointed to a small menu on your left.

“Thanks.” You said.

After scanning the wine options you realized you weren’t familiar with wines whatsoever. You had no idea what any of them were no matter how many times they mentioned the notes they had. Were you more interested in a red or white? Which one went better with the meal you might order? You didn’t even know what you would order when it came time to pick your food.

“Leave the bottle.” You heard to your left.

The thick Russian accent caught your attention. You looked over at the table closest to you. An attractive brunette man sat alone at a table for two. He tipped his head back, gulping down what was left in his wine glass, which looked miniature in his large hand. He put the glass back down with force, clearly irritated. You tried not to stare too long as you watched him unbutton the cuffs of his shirt and rolled them up, exposing his strong forearms. The server at his table was the same as yours and she left the bottle of wine behind when she left.

“Have you selected a wine ma’am?” She turned to you now. 

“Yeah, I’ll try whatever it is that he’s drinking.” You smiled at your server before she nodded and walked away.

You pulled your phone out of your purse and put it on the table. You realized it was 6:35, and your date was still MIA. It was hard not to feel disappointed that he was late, but you were sure he must’ve been on his way or held up in traffic. You scrolled through social media for a minute before you peered back to the man on your left. He was sucking down another glass of wine. You couldn’t help noticing the tattoos on his forearms that lead up to his rolled sleeves.

He looked over and met your eye. Panic struck, you’d been caught staring at him. Your breathing shortened and your brain started to short circuit. Think of something quick.

“I-is-um, is that wine good? I just ordered some.” You said, giggling nervously. Good cover.

“It’s ok.” He said, shrugging. “Not the best.”

“Oh.” You said, “well…what is the best?”

He furrowed his brow and rubbed his well groomed facial hair between his thumb and forefinger in thought.

“I prefer something a little stronger, I’m a Russian stereotype,” he smirked, “but this is what my date wanted.”

You nodded in understanding. His date didn’t show either. “I’m sorry.” You said, giving him a sympathy smirk.

You looked at your phone again, 6:40.

“It is no big deal. She is a friend of a friend you know? I kept my expectations low.” He threw back another glass of red liquid. Either he could handle his alcohol, or he was going to be trashed before long.

The server came back with your wine glass and poured it for you. You picked it up by the stem and held it out to the man at the table next to you.

“Cheers.” You said.

“Da, cheers.” He held out the entire bottle now and harbored no shame in swigging off the top in the fancy restaurant.

More social media scrolling, more time went by. You were holding off on trying the wine for your date. 6:51. A text from Haley came through.

Haley: How’s it going?? We’re sitting here trying to decide which of you is going to embarrass yourselves first.

You: He never showed.

Haley: Wait…seriously???

You: Yep, but I’m starving so I’ll probably just grab a bite and then head home.

Haley: Corey’s threatening to kick his ass as we speak.

You: It’s alright, I didn’t really have high expectations.

You were lying through your text. You always did this to yourself, getting excited for a date only to find out that the guy sucked. At least you didn’t waste any time talking to this one. It didn’t change the fact that you felt rejected, and now you were sitting alone in a crowded restaurant on Valentine’s Day. 6:57. You sighed heavily and slumped back in your seat.

“Yours did not show either?” The Russian man asked.

The server came to his table and interrupted him.

“Sir I’m very sorry but if you’re not going to order anything to eat we have to ask you to leave and free up the table for others.” She said.

You piped up, “it is so funny, actually we are each other’s dates.” You shrugged with a raised eyebrow and looked at him, hoping he’d play along.

It wasn’t like you to be so bold, but you were enjoying your conversation, and you didn’t want to go home defeated. It also occurred to you that all of the time you’d spent getting dressed and doing your makeup would’ve been for nothing if you didn’t go on a date with someone. If he was willing to go with it, then it was worth the bold move.

He did play along, smiling back at you, “we did not realize.”

“Oh…” she chuckled nervously. “That’s so funny. Why don’t you move over there and I’ll be back to get your orders in a minute.”

You stood up, grabbed your purse, phone and wine and then sat down at the man’s table. The server came back in just a minute, as promised. The Russian man ordered his food and you followed suit. She thanked you when you handed her the menus before she walked away.

“So, what is your name?” He asked, interlinking his fingers and leaning forward.

You started to wonder if you had a thing for hands after seeing his. They were strong, and fantasized for a minute about what they looked like doing things, like fixing a cabinet or using a wrench or-

“Did I bore you already?” He asked, noticing that you had zoned out completely

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks, “No! My name, it’s erm…” you suddenly felt nervous as you gave him your name. “What’s yours?”

“Maxim, but pretty ladies can call me Max.” He smirked at you.

You felt your stomach flutter. Maybe your Kyle’s absence was a blessing. You really liked this new spontaneous date you’d found you found yourself on, and even if Kyle showed up at that very moment, you were sure you’d ditch him to spend time with Max now.

“You are a pretty lady, if that wasn’t clear.” He explained.

You giggled softly. “I would hope that wasn’t your way of calling me ugly.”

“I’m not good at jokes or…flirting.” You watched his cheeks started to turn pink.

“Well I thought it was a little funny.” You sipped your wine.

You grimaced at the taste. The wine was bitter against your tongue. You tried not to make the face too harsh in front of him but you failed.

“This wine sucks.” You shook your head. “Here.” You handed him the glass and settled for water instead.

“Da, it is not great.” He shrugged, “but it is alcohol.”

“Go nuts.” You encouraged him.

You texted your friend telling her you ended up on a date after all. You told her you’d give all the details when you got home later so she wouldn’t ask a hundred questions while you tried to enjoy yourself.

The night went by too fast for your liking, and you were having such a good time. Max told you as much as he could about his profession. You were impressed that he was such a skilled soldier and engineer to be part of a special ops program called Rainbow Six. He told you about his brothers, and his life in Russia. You were intrigued by what an interesting life he led. You’d never met someone like him before.

Surprisingly though, he also asked about your hobbies and profession. Most men didn’t seem to be interested in the way you enjoyed spending an afternoon on a quiet weekend, or what kind of movies you liked to put on before bed. His eyes stayed glued to you while you talked about yourself. You’d always been told not to talk too much about yourself while on a date. Your mother specifically told you once that men don’t like it, but what were you supposed to do if they specifically asked you? Ignore them?

You talked a lot, for some perhaps it would be considered too much, but Maxim liked that about you. He remembered gearing up for this date, not keen on the idea in the first place, but deciding to go anyway. One of his friends suggested he, get out more, and, find himself the right one, but Max was convinced that the “right one” was a myth. When that friend set him up with the girl he was supposed to be meeting that night, he’d kept his expectations low, like he told you. When she didn’t show up, he wasn’t surprised.

He wasn’t the type to go on spontaneous dates anyway, and any women he had dated tended to be less than interesting. They were attractive enough, and kind, but there was something about the way your pretty eyes lit up when you talked about the things that excited you that made him feel a way he’d never felt before. Your smile forced his own rare smirk to creep across his face, and your laugh hit his ears like soft music. By the end of the night, he was happy his date never showed, because it meant he got to meet you instead.

“I do not want to seem creepy, but if you do not have a ride home, I can bring you.” He offered as the two of you made your way out to the parking lot.

You should’ve told him that it was alright, and that you had a ride home. This was how girls got abducted or killed, or both. Despite what you knew you should do, he seemed trustworthy, and you decided to accept the ride.

“Actually, a ride home would be great.” You agreed, walking with him over to a big black truck.

He opened the door for you, and held a hand out to help you get into the tall vehicle. You took note of the calluses on his large and gentle hands. When you got into the truck you secured your seatbelt and smiled at him as he climbed into the driver’s side. There was no need for music on the short ride to your house, because the two of you spent even more time sharing stories about yourselves and laughing at more terrible jokes that Max made in an attempt to get a chuckle out of you.

When you arrived, you unbuckled your seatbelt and turned to face him. He was so handsome, even with the few features you could make out by the light of the streetlamp. 

“Here we are.” He said. “This is your friend’s house?” He asked.

“Yeah, she’s the one who set me up on this date.” You shrugged. “Well…not this date, but you know what I mean.” You giggled.

“I am glad she set you up on the date.” He smirked. “I would say I was sorry that your date stood you up, but that would be a lie.”

“I know I’m glad he stood me up.” You said softly.

You felt yourself leaning in to him. You hadn’t even realized you were getting closer until your ribcage was against the center console. Maxim was leaning in too, his chest was tight with excitement, but also unease. He was unsure if you were going to let him kiss those lips he’d been stealing glances at all night.

When you continued leaning, and he leaned too, you answered his question by reaching a hand to the side of his head and pulling his lips to yours. One bruising kiss wasn’t enough once you’d felt the softness of his mouth. You melted in for another, and another, until you knew continuing was going to lead to something else, and you weren’t ready to shack up with someone you’d just met quite yet.

“Can I give you my number?” You asked him as you pulled back.

He nodded, and uttered a breathless, “da.”

You scrambled, hands shaking as you rifled through your purse for a pen. You scribbled your number on the back of a crumpled receipt and handed it to him.

“Text me.” You said, giving him a final quick peck before smiling and hopping out of the truck.

“I will.” He said vacantly to himself after you were already at the door to the house. “I will.”

AO3 LINK

TAGLIST (please let me know if you would like to be added or removed):

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction, @my-secret-shame

[gatakat]

surrender | part 2

"You must think I'm some kind of monster, hiding from my fans like this"

Sakusa peeked carefully behind the column. That little kid and his dad were still there, in line waiting to make their order. He looked back at you. The smile on your face was gentler than... Well, gentler than what he could have possibly expected after what just happened.

"I know you play volleyball because you enjoy it, not for fame." You replied.

He peered into your expression, looking for any sign, any minuscule twitch of your facial muscles that could reveal that you were being sarcarstic. Or condescending, which would have annoyed him even more. He couldn't find anything.

“How magnanimous.” He said, looking away from your big honest eyes. And he realized it came out more insincere than he intended.

You really were a good person. That was the conclusion Sakusa had come to after two months of riding the train with you, and of watching you excel at your job at MSBY Black Jackals.

It made him feel... inadequate, in a way, seeing you outperform all the other team managers by a very long mile, not just efficiently doing what you were told but additionally always keeping track of every minuscule detail that needed caring. From who usually needed more water than the rest, to who was taking a certain medication that week, including running after Miya whenever he forgot his umbrella in the lockers and delivering personal messages to Bokuto from his old high school friends. Hell, you had reminded Barnes of his upcoming anniversary with his wife when he'd forgotten, and even suggested various examples of last minute gifts he could get.

Why were you like this? Did you really have that much extra time and energy to be wasting it into other people's needs like this? Sakusa knew he could never spend one minute more than strictly necessary caring about others to that extent. He knew the other managers were like him too. But you... you seemed to have learned, in just a couple of weeks, which specific fans gave Sakusa the biggest headaches, and you had mastered the art of lying to shoo them away.

The company policy was to lick the fans' asses as much as possible. And yet, you were doing things like tell them that Sakusa had already left home even though the truth was that he was hiding away in the locker room.

No other team manager had ever done something like that for him, and Sakusa wasn't 100% sure he liked how that made him feel because he always took care to be prepared for every situation. He hated people who were unprepared. So why was he needing someone to save his ass like that?

No. It definitely rubbed him the wrong way. And yet he could't possibly get mad at you. Not when you looked at him with those big, thoroughly honest eyes of yours, crinkled into a bright smile...

You were smiling at him.

Sakusa blinked.

It was a beautiful Summer night in downtown Osaka. Nights always made Sakusa feel safer somehow. It was like the World spinned more slowly at night, and he could take things at his own pace with no outside pressure.

Besides, tonight it was burger night with Bokuto and the guys and the city was vivid as ever, full of people going home from work and students around their age just hanging out.

Sakusa had come to enjoy watching all this hectic pace around him, as long as it didn’t get too crowded. He took that as proof of his progress with his anxiety. Nowadays, all the noise, activity and lights around him, combined with his friends’ constant laughter, had turned these burger nights into something Sakusa had secretly come to cherish, like a surprisingly fun break from routine. 

What he wasn't so used to, however, was you participating in them. But you were a nice girl, a good person, so he didn’t really mind. Besides, Bokuto had insisted and insisted until he'd exhausted everyone's patience. 

And you coming had been a good thing, after all, because, as Sakusa waited in line to get his order at the counter, you -always vigilant and helpful- had approached him to alert him of the presence of one of his more annoying fans.

He hadn't been expecting to hear your voice calling out to him at that precise moment, however, so he'd unthinkingly swatted your hand away from him, a startled look on his face.

And you -always patient and understanding- hadn’t paid it any mind. You hadn't cared that he’d pretty much barked at you not to touch him. Instead, you had just grabbed his sleeve and pulled him towards a hidden area by the restrooms.

“Sorry for hitting you earlier.” Sakusa said.

You laughed.

“I’m going to accept your apology because, even though you didn’t hurt me, you could have done it very easily with those huge hands of yours!”

Sakusa’s silent gaze made you visibly restless, and you backtracked immediately:

“It’s fine, though. Really.”

Even after your reassuring words, Sakusa still felt uneasy.

It would have been easier if you'd just yelled at him. But you had to go and be a good fucking person again.

You waited with Sakusa behind the column until the little kid finished ordering and finally sat down, and then, when Sakusa's order number was called, you went and picked up the burger he'd bought. And, just like that, that ill-fitting feeling took place in his chest again.

Guilt, Sakusa thought. He felt guilty.

Sakusa looked around him. It felt like he'd been hiding behind the column with you for an eternity. The others were probably wondering where you'd gone.

“C'mon, let's go.” Sakusa said as soon as you came back with his order. And something in the back of his mind was reminding him that he hadn't even thanked you, but the need to shake that uncomfortable feeling off his chest was more pressing, so he ignored it. “Bokuto is going to get nervous if he can’t harass you some more before we leave.

You maneuvered the tray to hold it in one hand and hit his shoulder with your free one.

“Sakusa-kun!” You said, the mirth in your eyes betraying your offended expression. “He’s not like that!”

A smile tugged at the corner of your lips. You genuinely seemed to enjoy Bokuto’s attention too, but you still took no real offense from Sakusa’s joke.

“Ah, no?” Sakusa quipped. “My mistake.”

You were a nice person to talk to. Banter with you came easily, like you adapted to Sakusa’s sense of humor. Maybe he could thank you later.

Bokuto hogged you during dinner, and Miya and Hinata afterwards, when the five of you took a train to Miya’s apartment to play videogames. You lost to them by an abysmal margin, and it had all of you laughing hysterically. It had been very long since the last time Sakusa laughed so hard he ended up in tears. He really was glad you came tonight.

Much, much later, you and Sakusa said your goodbyes to Miya and the guys, and shared a cab home. You were practically falling asleep standing by then. He took care to make sure you safely got inside your building before telling the driver his own address, and it wasn't until he got home that he realized he'd completely forgotten to thank you. 

Shit, he thought. He'd gotten carried away. It wasn't like him.

thanks for reading!!

i made some changes from the ao3 version and i like this chapter a lot more now wehehehe

previous chapter | next chapter

[fainthedcherry]

IT'S NEW YEARS OVER HERE SO LET ME LAUNCH MY BABIES AT YOU FOR IT!!!!

In case you want their backstories, I just recommend you go over to their Toyhou.ses respectively, as- typing on Tumblr is a pain for my PC. My PC hates Tumblr in particular for some reason, whenever I format text, and I can't LIVE without formatting text as a hobby-author man. xD

LINK TO MARCO'S STORY

LINK TO ZORRO'S STORY

For new users; Marco was made by Heavenly-Hellfire and Hollowed-Hartlocke. I bought him back in 2019! Still love him like it's day 1. My best, most adorable boy <3, he's become my actual role model, I love him sm ;:

In case you never read them before, hopefully you enjoy the reads!!! I hope you can forgive the older grammar on Zorro's. I def plan to rewrite it, once I finish working on my raider-code. (It's been taking so long bc I'm trying to learn to use the CSS mixin z-index class-type. I still can't figure out image borders for the life of me, but I learned rotation class-types LOL.)

I've wanted to redraw both their reference sheet for almost YEARS now. Ever since I've gotten Marco, I continuously evolved how I draw him, over and over, to a point his old ref had become a detriment, due to how differently I draw him nowadays LOL. One thing that desperately needed a redo for him especially, how his hair is supposed to be drawn + his wings. His wings looked like floppy chicken nuggets on the old one LOL. PLUS! I added a section of details, where I see artists I commissioned, struggle with or fail on. Hopefully the detail section is sufficient in fixing that! I'm not sure, if I should also add a mention, of Marco's dot details below the pink pattern, as even the distance between the dots is different. + I LOVE DRAWING EXPRESSIONS. So to also add a small box of extras for Marco's cool glowy eyes was a treat. <3

I plan to redraw his refs for his magic wind attacks perhaps, as for now, I have a shabby drawing, and I got a free animation program lately, so I can FINALLY unleash my years of experience animating, in the appropriate program now LMAO. My own limitations of using SAI to animate, was making my animations look choppy and bad for years unfortunately, so my art always looked very amateur-ish when I actually know how to animate..

Speaking of that, for the attentive...Yes, I plan to possibly try and draw a 360° turnaround of my characters, as the next natural progression of refs next. I am SO close, so so SO close to making my art finally look like it's part of my project I've been working on for years in private. Ever since this year, people have proven, that you CAN start an animated series on the internet, and it will receive an audience. I also wanted to start an animated series when I was a teen, and now that I'm an adult I can make it happen for sure, with the right talents. When the time comes, I might seek out a music producer and perhaps, if I'll have the money, hire animators, so that I'm not the only one who has to work on the series I planned.

For Zorro....He had it coming. Last time I drew his ref, he looked like a 16 yo/ mobian child, it pissed me off for so many years, once I learned how to properly make adult characters look adult lol. THE CEREAL SPITTER NOW ACTUALLY LOOKS ADULT AND LIKE THE BASTARD SELF HE SHOULD BE. I don't have too much to add to him, but I consider him still a WIP in my brain bc- RAIDER PAGE CODE. I WANNA FINISH. GRABBY HANDS. I CAN FEEL THAT IF I LEARN Z-INDEX FINALLY I CAN REALISE THAT CODE. I've wanted to make a code for my raiders 3 years ago already y'all it's painful to be patient w/ myself sdgkldslgdsg

I'm so satisfied, with my ref sheets finally looking, like a professional drew them imho!! If you disagree w/ that notion, feel free to tell me what's missing or where I need to improve on! :D

My 2024 started amazing and with laughter and appreciation for my friends, I'm so happy finally. 3 years in a row, all I did was cry each new year, and be in pain. 2024 feels like it could be my year. Year of the dragon, bless me with your energetic and powerful spirit please,, 🙏

ANYWAY. Forgive me in advance for watermarks, but I kind of? Am paranoid now over my art a bit bc my work is good now? Like I think I'm in the final stages of my artistry. I can feel, that I might find the perfect style soon. I need to experiment just a bit more. Just a bit more...I might consider loosening up my linework in 2024. I honestly still? Hate lineart? Like..My lineart looks good now, don't get me wrong but. I just love sketchy artwork so much more??? Sketching is so fun, creating is so joyful, when it's a sketch..But lineart kind of.....Ruins my art. I think I should loosen up. It's why I might change my approach a millionth time, but my artstyle has potential now. I don't feel, like my art is awful anymore or worth nothing, it now HAS worth, I now HAVE the right to have an ego about it, but some pieces still are missing, to give me the ultimate happiness and relief in my work. Perhaps if I do some more commissions, I might unlock my final potential? We'll see.

My aspirations for 2024;

Pass the prep-exam for my workplace (I LOVE MY WORK. I SINCERELY WISH I'LL PASS. I love work so much omg I don't wanna be fired so badly)

Draw more art of Finn & Marco so they finally pass Chloe in most images on TH (I REALLY DON'T WANT HER TO HAVE THE MOST IMAGES STILL. It should either be my comfort boys or C.I.Ta)

Be more experimental with mixing medias traditionally (I wanna start mixing mini craft-projects + my drawings or mix more pencils + markers and also glass pens + watercolours. I rlly rlly wanna experiment and go loose.)

Animate more and possibly even post said animations. I know animation takes me HELL OF A LOT of time, as I lack so much time to do so, but I'd love to do that

Stop stressing so hard over OTA's and commissions. I know I tell myself each year, "this year will be the year I wanna finish all my owed art!!" But every once and a while, I need to be a realist to myself, my optimism may be good, but it sometimes..Is a little over-eager. But I noticed in 2023, I really heavily strangle myself out. I haven't drawn any private art since 2020, really.....It says a lot about an artist, if they now haven't drawn a personal drawing and finished it, in the same quality of their owed work for 4 years now. I haven't been really honest to myself and my heart, and I'd like to forgive myself slowly, by allowing to both work on owed work, and start creative, passionate art-projects again, again, where I can let loose and just. Experiment. Do something new. Push the boundaries of my art. Combine medias, collages, etc, anything under the sun I wanna try. I limit myself so hard, over chasing a goal, I can't achieve, if I won't acknowledge, I'll cause my own death as an artist, if I continue to chase unattainable goals, I can't achieve, if I won't be gentle to myself.

Finish revamping my commission sheet. It requires, I draw new examples of course. The big thing I need to warn ahead; I will have a fat price-increase, due to work taking all the time I can have now. I can only work around 4hrs a day on art. My art takes around 20 hours to be finished. Every piece is done with love, with time, with effort. I'm not an artist, who adheres to algorithms. I'm an artist who lives with passion, with freedom in mind. I have an endless amount of ideas, I have an infinite amount of space and ways to create it. I am not a machine, I am, what an artist strives to be. To simply...Create. AI can go to hell, and drag NFTs along with it. I to this day get attempts to be hacked, by tech bros, believe it or not. I pissed off BAYC on Twitter once, and some butthurt idiot, is still trying to get to my Insta and Steam to this day. Won't happen anymore with 2FA idiot, lmao. I won't allow a 2nd hack to happen.

Finish giving ALL my characters on TH a floatie icon. I know w/ 100% certainty, that I got this task in the bag. This one is of no problem at all.

With that, thank you for reading my world-salad! Almost as tasty, as mom's olivier-salad. Yumyum. Btw secret lil teaser ig below here lmao. I started Finn's sheet too, and I've got it 1/3rds done, but I don't wanna burn myself out on ref-sheets, so perhaps you'll see Finn also reworked in a few months! ✨

[vixeninthewood]

The notices kept coming in from Eichen and Stiles couldn't fend off the guilt anymore. His dad tried assuring him that everything would be okay, it was just going to take some time for them to get caught up. But Stiles was struggling to go about his day to day life, sitting in class, trying to study, making it to lacrosse practice all just seemed a bit pointless while he knew his father was working. His father was trying to handle the stress of being Sheriff, wrapping his mind around all the supernatural turmoil surrounding their town while trying to pay off all of the medical bills that they had surmounted.

Stilinski had been a bit hesitant when Stiles had approached him about taking on a part-time job. Between school, sports, and pack stuff he feared it would be too much for him. Especially, considering everything he had been through recently. But if Scott could handle being a True Alpha, school and work and everything in-between, Stiles could handle a job.

A local diner was hiring for a dishwasher and Busboy position. It wouldn't interfere with school or practice and it would put some extra money in Stiles' pocket. Stilinski knew he would never take money from his son but if working helped Stiles move past this guilt and helped him save for things like Jeep repairs then he didn't see the harm.

His first week at work, Stiles adjusted to the longer days and the time work took out of studying. Good thing he had Lydia's notes. He didn't necessarily like the work and the tips weren't always that great considering the diner was usually slow, but it was better than nothing.

Stiles wiped his hands on the apron tied around his waist as he went to slide another batch of dishes through the sanitizer.

"Hey, Stiles," Neil, the guy who owned the diner, poked his head around the corner from the kitchen. He was a middle-aged man and was a decent enough boss. He seemed to like Stiles alright, he got a little frustrated when the teenager couldn't seem to focus or he caught him staring into space. But overall he was a nice enough kid and he showed up for work, it was hard to find kids nowadays that didn't mind working, especially unglamorous jobs such as this one.

"There is a guy out front, can you go check on him while I finish up some prep back here?" Neil continued.

"Yeah, sure." Stiles said with a nod as he headed towards the main floor. He quickly swiped up a glass and a leftover plate from the front counter and placed them in a bin before heading towards the table by the windows where a man sat. Stiles wiped a few stray soap suds from the back of his hand as he absent-mindedly walked to the table.

"Hello, what can I-" Stiles trailed off as he looked up and came face to face with Derek. He stared with the same stoic face he always wore and waited for Stiles to finish.

"What are you doing here?" Stiles said as his arms dropped to his sides.

"Scott told me you got a job here." Stiles didn't know why it upset him so much for Derek, or anyone else he knew for that matter, to know he worked here. But he hadn't told Scott not to tell anyone so he couldn't really be mad either.

"What can I get you?" Stiles asked.

"Coffee, black." Derek answered, his expression still cold and cool.

Stiles pivoted on his heel and headed back behind the counter. As he poured the coffee he couldn't help but wonder what Derek was up to. Was there trouble and he was just trying to find a way to tell him? He grabbed a menu as he approached the table again. He handed Derek the coffee and placed the menu in front of him.

"Anything else?" Stiles asked as he absently tapped his right fist against his left palm. He hated sitting still too long.

"What do you recommend?" Derek said as he flicked his eyes back and forth between the menu and Stiles. Stiles sighed,

"The apple pie is pretty decent."

"Not really a sweets guy." Derek dropped the menu to the table. "What are you doing here, Stiles?" He said folding his hands in front of him and leaning into the table.

"Not all of us can be born into a wealthy family, like the Hales." Stiles said with shrug. "Some of us have to work crappy minimum wage jobs sometimes."

Derek looked away and sunk back into his seat. He didn't look at Stiles again but turned his gaze towards the window.

"Let me know if you need anything else." Stiles whispered before heading back to take another load of dishes to the sink.

The front door chimed indicating someone else had come in.

"Stiles?" Neil called.

"Got it." Stiles shouted back. But when he got out front no one was there, not even Derek. He must have left. Stiles headed to his table and grabbed the coffee cup. It was still full, untouched actually. Derek must have just stopped by to see if Stiles really did have a shitty diner job. Dick. Under the coffee cup was some money.

Stiles almost dropped the still hot coffee everywhere when he saw that it was a hundred dollar bill. He set the cup back down with shaking hands as a feeling of rage came across him. He strode towards the door and headed out towards the parking lot. Derek couldn't have gotten far.

"What the hell is this?" Stiles asked as he held up the bill. Derek sighed and slammed his car door closed as he turned around to face Stiles.

"Payment. For the very satisfying cup of coffee."

"The coffee is only a dollar twenty-five." Stiles said with a glare.

"Consider it a tip." Derek said with a tight smile.

"I don't need your pity or your handouts." Stiles grabbed Derek's hand and slapped the hundred dollars into it before turning around to go back to work.

In a blur, Stiles felt his body jerked backwards by his narrow shoulders and a pain in his lower back as he was shoved against something hard. Derek's car.

As his eyes refocused, he realized that Derek had him pinned against the front fender of the car and Derek's face was just inches from his.

Derek held the money up,

"Just take the money, Stiles."

"You can't just bully me into doing whatever you tell me to!" Stiles shouted.

Derek's eyes wavered over Stiles face.

"We both know that coffee wasn't worth a hundred bucks." Stiles said more quietly and calmly. "I don't need you to just throw money at me because you can. I have more pride than that."

Derek grabbed Stiles by his face and pressed his lips against Stiles' unexpecting ones. Stiles froze but for a moment. Derek smelled like the woods. Like earth and rain. It was almost dizzying. He felt his tongue slide past Derek's as his hand moved from Stiles face to his jaw and then his throat. Derek was rough and demanding he pulled back just enough to work his way down to Stiles' neck. He kissed and bit playfully before sending Stiles' stomach flipping as he ran his tongue up his neck and to his ear.

Derek pulled back and Stiles could now see the drunken look in his glowing eyes. He was still clutching Stiles' throat with his right hand.

"Now that," Derek grinned. "was worth a hundred dollars." He shoved the money into Stiles trembling hand and moved away from the human.

"Take care of yourself, kid." Derek lightly slapped Stiles' cheek and turned to his car door. "See ya again tomorrow night." He said as he opened the door and climbed inside. He pulled out of the parking lot leaving a stunned Stiles behind. He could feel the cold prickle on his neck of where Derek's saliva mixed with the cool night air and sent goosebumps through his whole body. He looked down at the money and glanced about the parking lot.

"Well, now I just feel dirty."

[ffsg0jo]

Hii it's the anon who asked about JJK and a hijabi reader and I just read your piece on Gojo and omg MashaAllah it might be one of THE BEST pieces I read!! 🥹🥹

I don't even know where to start!! I was giggling and kicking my feet the whole time! MashaAllah your ideas were so original and creative and you wrote them so nicely and you nailed Gojo's character personality!!

For example it was so creative to talk abt how he would mistake us for doing a cosplay cause of similar experiences he had whilst living in Japan!

Here are other stuff that I just thought were👩‍🍳💋 (sorry it might be long :'))

- the abayas being expensive was too relatable and him buying a whole wardrobe is just soo him!! I loved that part!

- Gojo sweating in a tank top like an immigrant dad was not something I thought I could imagine but here we are. And I love it!!! Also the breezy abaya in summer was so relatable again :)))

The quick fire headcanons were amazing, especially:

- the terrorist jokes, he 100% makes them lmao

- stepping on our abayas on purpose like a child is soo him, especially if he didn't want us to go anywhere or something 😭

- and him having extra pins on his uniform just for us 🥹🥹🥹. I'm usually that friend and having someone else do that for me is justttt 🥰🥰.

Overall, just thank you so so much for taking up my ask, I sent it so quickly after reading your Ramadan work, I even forgot to check if you were taking any requests 😭.

I can't wait to read more!! Also not sure if you write for him, but I was wondering if you could include Sukuna to your list of characters for this? No pressure though!! :)

JazakAllah!!

- ⭐

i've been saving this ask in my ask box for so so long just because i wanted to keep it forever and ever and now i'm scared tumblr's going to delete it by accident. i hope you don't mind me responding to this really really late but i keep coming back to this ask every couple of days because it's just so sweet and i love you so so much.

you genuinely flatter me tooooo much. you're a writer's dream reader fr thank you so much for your kind words and i'm so glad you liked it so much.

i think representation in media is incredibly important and i havent seen that many muslim reader fics so i try to write as many as i can. they don't get a lot of engagement tbh but even if one person reads it and feels seen that's enough for me !!!

stop it you ask is making me giggle again for like the 100th time. every time i read it i feel so giddy and happy. honestly that's the biggets compliment ever. i feel like the way i write characters is a little ooc sometimes but you're so sweet to say that. i really really appreciate and i hope you like sukuna's one (when i eventually get round to finishing it and posting it).

also abayas are too expensive nowadays i could cry seeing some of the prices so now i wear a mixture of farasha abayas and long modest dresses that arent form fitting because they tend to be a lot cheaper.

I WILL DIE ON THE IMMIGRANT DAD GOJO HILL. IT DOESNT FIT HIS CHARACTER AT ALL AND IT'S STUPID I KNOW BUT I WILL DIE ON THAT HILL IT'S REAL TO ME !!!!!

ughh yes i love you for being that friends. backbone of our society for real !!!

honestly please feel free to send in any more requests you have, they can be literally about anything and i'd be more than happy to do it.

icl i was halfway through megumi's and i started wring sukuna's and nanami's but then i got caught up in writing other things that i suddenly got inspiration for. and the way i write is i have to focus on one thing at a time but i will hopefully post them soon inshaAllah. i was thinking of splitting sukuna into two parts as well, like true form heian era sukuna and a modern era sukuna too. but yeahh inshaAllah soon !!!

im so sorry to keep you waiting for a response and i hope you don't hate me ;-; i really really wanted to keep this ask forever but it's fine i have a screenshot of it anyways hehehehehe so i can read it back time to time.

i appreciate you sending an ask in so so much and genuinely you've made so many of my days by sending this in. thank you so so much and i hope you have a wonderful day inshaAllah. also wa iyakki my love and sukuna looks so good lmaooo. that's brother suleiman fr fr

wishing you the very very best and i hope you're taking care and staying safe inshaAllah <333

also here's a picture of mufti abdul ghaffur

[bean-boi-supremacy]

Also I feel like I need to rant about the demonization of fanfiction real quick

I am not sure how it happend but if I were to guess the demonization of fanfiction begins with the misogynistic stereotype of the overly excited fangirl

The overly excited fangirl that is obsessed with these two characters/people or whatever really and thus has started making up their own stories including them or their characteristics- OH WAIT no sorry it‘s the crazy obsessed fangirl that fetishizes m/m relationships and writes hardcore smut or wants to be with them and writes cringy y/n fanfics sorry I seemingly misspoke

Anyway you see where I am going with this

First of all: Fanfics are part of fandom spaces but in particular they often get posted to extra specific sites, sites which are not meant for the artist in the case of rpf or even the creator of shows etc. Those sites and really I would say fanfics overall are fan only spaces. Not it‘s not cool or funny when you print out some random persons work online and give it to the person it‘s about because it was never meant to be.

Also often times this fanfics are specifically chosen as if they were to reinforce the stereotype of the crazy obsessed fangirl with which I mean the before mentioned hardcore smut, shipping and/or y/n inclusion.

Fanfics are fanworks like every other type of fanwork (see: Fan Art, Fan Songs, Covers,…)

There are a bunch of platonic written fanfics, there are a lot of really well written works that would deserve it to be made a movie or a series or officially published so the author has monetary gain from it, there is so much Fluff, Angst, AUs…but no because all of those things don‘t fit the narrative.

Genuinely some of the best books I have ever read have been Fanfics because some of them are just that god damn good

Of course there are some „weird“ ones, there are some certain works that are exactly that stereotype but especially nowadays, those are such a small majority of fanfics

AND EVEN WHEN Let I don‘t know the 14 year old girl try writing out, let her write whatever in the security of an extra fanfic dedicated fandom space. Let them find out that maybe they aren‘t a girl (all which I have heard of has happend before).

But yeah let‘s go humiliate some teenagers or not even some teenagers some people who had fun writing and now are getting ridiculed sure.

Anyway Fanfics don‘t hurt anyone. Sure there are some with…questionable content but that is such a small minority of fanfics. A lot of fanfics I have read would have been amazing movies or shows or just normal books but for some reason people outside always only look at and judge everybody based on a very specifically selected few.

The most people only know „badly“ written smutty fanfics through media (After, 50 Shades, Videos of celebrities reading fanfics) so I don‘t really wonder that there is a large majority that thinks that‘s all that fanfics are but still

(Also there is something extra to be said about interviewers that make people read fanfics often times just taking fanfics from the internet without asking the author of it first.

It‘s like you and a select group of people like apples but everybody around you hates them, so you and the others have an extra room in which they can eat apples as the apple haters have shown to not alway react that great to you eating apples. Every once in awhile though somebody stomps inside your room and makes fun of you with the rest of the apple haters that you like them, when you say that you go extra into another room so the others are not disturbed, the intruder says „well then you shouldn‘t have harvested these apples if you didn‘t want me barging into your extra room, in the first place.“

LIKE THAT‘S THE LOGIC IT‘S LIKE THE MEME OF „THAT SIGN WON‘T STOP ME CAUSE I CAN‘T READ“ EXCEPT IT‘S PEOPLE ACTIVELY READING THE SIGN, GOING INSIDE, AND TELLING EVERYONE ABOUT THE „HORRIBLE“ THING INSIDE

Anyway there was once an Interview though with One Direction in which they were supposed to read fanfics of themselves but instead of it being actual fanfics the two hosts wrote them themselves and gave it to the boys, WHICH IS A LOT BETTER

Like yeah we still have the evil fanfic BUT AT LEAST WE AREN‘T ALL PILLING ON A RANDOM PERSON ON THE INTERNET WHO DIDN‘T PUT A SECOND THOUGHT BEHIND POSTING THEIR LITTLE ONESHOT THEY WROTE IN 10 MINUTES AT 4 AM

I feel like the only important note when writing fanfics is the same as any other fanwork like fanart because it‘s just that: a Fans work.

It‘s not canon, it doesn‘t mean that it will happen, doesn‘t mean that those people are together but it‘s just a story you as a fan MADE UP.

That‘s why it is called Fanfiction

(Also I often read that oh shipping ruined this and that or that and this and like…are you really best friends if you didn‘t get mistaken as a couple at least once in your life? Nah but I do get the pressure and all that but at the same time this often times happens in fandoms with a younger audience, that audience will one day grow up and go man what didn‘t I believe in when I was a 13 year old and maybe find an old WIP and maybe even cringe themselves at their writing style and be proud of how much they have improved. What I am saying is that yes there needs to be a healthy border between like what‘s reality and fiction but at the same time cut those early teenagers some slack man, y‘all wanna tell me you were perfect little 13 year olds that never did anything you now find embarrassing or something)

I‘m not even gonna start on the escapism factor of fanfiction that could be another entire block of text but yeah

Fanfics are not a problem, the problem is how they are treated

(Last Note: Yes there is some truly fucked up shit that shouldn‘t fly past and be allowed but I am certain that 14 year old sarah who was writing idk One Direction Fanfics in 2012 thought of those topics)

Next topic could definitely be the inherent sexism girls and women face online

Or maybe how a lot of those „cringey teenage girls“ online fandoms now have a largely queer online demographic (One Direction, Twenty One Pilots, My Chemical Romance, etc.)

[echonvoid]

Disaster twins strike again! This show has fucking fantastic disability/nuerodivergency/queer representation and I adore it!

So, my headcanons after the movie:

Leo:

Suffers from chronic pain and fatigue; has weaker lungs and immune system; and has to use a cane to keep himself steady in case he has a dizzy spell. Uses a c-pap to make sure he breathes when he sleeps; and he has some emergency oxygen tubing that he puts on if he’s really having a hard time breathing.

Has nightmares, ptsd, and frequent panic attacks; all involving weightlessness, falling, or just the feeling of Krang beating the shit outta him.

Often uses compression clothes to help with sensory issues. The whole gang tend to wander around the lair in comfy clothes nowadays. Everyone needs the extra comfort.

Has a real nasty case of tinnitus and wears hearing aides to help with that. I just realize the don’t really have ears, just ear slits. So instead, he wears noise canceling headphones (him and Donnie have a habit of kidnapping each other’s headphones) that donnie has modified to act as hearing aids, filtering in the outside sound

Leo’s Gay as Fuck (I mean Da Vinci is so proud of this boy), and he’s a demi boy. He definitely has adhd and quite the handful of nuerodivergency disorders. Like he has some nasty dyslexia and tonal issues. AMAB pronouns: he/they

Donnie:

Makes a softer battle shell for around the house, but refuses to take it off unless they’re bathing, or slapping some ointment on it. It definitely bubbled and blistered after being attached to the Krang’s nuerotech (he was very proud of coming up with that name); his arms also had a similar nasty rash, but it was no where near as bad.

His eyes glow in the dark, eerie and blank, but quite powerful, they illuminate a good distance around him, but he himself can only see shadows.

His nerves are incredibly rebellious after being merged like that. Sometimes he can’t feel shit, others it’s a weird electrical tingle that passes through, and most often it’s his nerves all feeling like they’re catching on fire. He was used to sensory issues from his nuerodivergency, but this was a fucking whole other level.

He does a lot of data collection and processing over all the shit that they have left over from the Krang attack. It helps him process all the fucking horrors they went through.

Pronouns: He/They. Gender: agender. He’s an aromantic bisexual (or at least bi and somewhere on the aroace spectrum) AFAB

General:

ASL comes back in full force. When Donnie was little there were times he’d go nonverbal (hell, Raph still does go nonverbal when he gets to anxious (Savage Raph)), but he slowly grew outta it. Now, they all have nonverbal days and ASL has become a major part of their speaking. Most of them will sign while speaking outta habit, and not even realize it.

Turtle cuddle piles become the norm; they’ve turned the common area into a huge cushiony pillow fort of sorts. All the good blankets, textures, all of it, they pile in there. There’s also a closet that they transformed into a hideaway cove of sorts for anyone needing to be alone, so then they won’t be too far.

They take a pretty long break from any kind of hero work, at least 6 months. But after that, everyone was on a break. Hell, hypno and warren had brunch with the turtles once a month. They’ve reached a nice frenemy status, and honestly, the couple feels fucking horrible for what went down with the Krang.

Everyone goes to therapy!!! Especially CJ, Draxum, and Splinter; while everyone goes for help processing the attack, these three have trauma that haunts them from long before.

CJ has survivor’s guilt, c-ptsd, and a shitty relationship with food since it wasn’t always available, and the youngest and the fighters always had eating priority. He also fucking hates Draxum, cuz in his timeline Draxum gains a god/savior-complex; he decides that it would be better for the hidden city to be destroyed than for the Krang to have it. Donnie and Raph (while on CJ babysitting) found out, and went to stop him. But he beheaded donnie, in front of 4 year old CJ, then murder-suicided the entire city. Raph managed to get themselves out.

After hearing the devastating news that au him beheaded his own son and destroyed the very thing he swore to protect… and he wasn’t surprised… Draxum realized he wants to make his kids proud (especially Mikey, who poured so much love into him, even when he didn’t want it) So, he agrees to therapy. With a licensed therapist who wasn’t his child.

There he realizes he was raised in an insane bloodthirsty cult, and he was literally raised to be a child soldier. He spends a long time unlearning the cult mentality he grew up with. (And yes I am very much projecting my own feelings of learning that your parents religious ideology functioned more like a cult than a religion)

Splinter has to deal with his fucking trauma from Big Mama. Like, she abused the fuck outta him and he *still*, to this day, believes she can be fixed/redeemed. He has to unlearn a lot of shit, and his relationship with Draxum (the glorious nebulous divorcée vibes) is far healthier and it helps him better understand the way relationships are supposed to work. Oh, and he learns how to properly process grief and depression.

Anyway, I have lots of post movie feels, and quite a few 2012 crossover notes that I may or may not do something with (don’t worry, no 2012 hate; them characters just need therapy and a huge group huge/cuddle pile)

[harry-writings]

Bothered

- A blurb in which somebody flirts with Y/n for the first time, and Harry lets jealousy get the best of him

This is a little Drive Me Wild extra for all your valentine’s day needs!!! I hope you enjoy :) 

Masterlist

-

“Tequila, please. The best one you’ve got!”

Open bars at work parties are an absolute lifesaver.

Harry and Y/n have been nonstop on their feet since three, wearing their sunday best, talking to all the higher ups and other officials at the firm with as much professionalism as possible. And though it was certainly a nice break from the work setting, it was still a lot for the both of them to keep up with.

It’s nearly eleven now, the party near its end and the exhaustion finally settling in. But Y/n wouldn’t ever dream of passing up unlimited free drinks whenever offered (neither would Harry, but getting her home safe is his biggest priority). Besides, she needed to take the edge off, somehow.

The bartender smiles at her, his eyes looking at her up and down very briefly before making her drink.

She’s humming softly to herself, her fingers tapping against the bar, the palm of her other hand resting on the back of her neck and she looks around the venue, admiring the architecture and the chandeliers that hang from above her.

“How long have you been working for them?” The bartender asks as he slides the shotglass to her, to which Y/n smiles.

“Almost three years! It’s been really good to me so far. I must say, though, it gets a bit stressful and there are a handful of times we end up having to take our work home. But I’ve met some of the best people through the company, so I can’t complain much! Especially when this is the only job I’ve ever considered staying at for so long.”

When the bartender doesn’t answer, yet rather just stares at her with amusement and endearment in his eye, Y/n starts to get nervous.

She considers diverting her attention back to Harry and moving on with her night as if she hadn’t spoken a word at all, but she’s never been the kind of person to walk away from an uncomfortable silence. And most certainly, she has never found it in her will to escape somebody’s pressing and persistent stares.

All of it just makes her so anxious.

So, as an attempt to calm her nerves, Y/n throws her head back as she takes her shot of tequila, her nose scrunching and eyes squinting as it burns down her throat and settles in her chest.

“What about you? How long have you been working as a bartender? I’ve heard it’s a lot of work, remembering all the recipes and stuff. Whenever I went to university, I would go to bars and get drunk by myself and watch how fast all the bartenders made drinks. I found it mesmerising, really. Like an art, almost. A sport, too, I suppose, given how much you all have to think and act quickly yet unmistakably.”

Harry smiles softly to himself, a bittersweet feeling bubbling in his chest as he listens to her get caught up in her rambles.

She doesn’t do that much with him anymore, not in the way she used to. And it isn’t because she’s lost any trust in him, or because she loves him any less — rather, it’s because she trusts and loves him so much more that she doesn’t feel the need to fill any gaps or spaces between them anymore.

He doesn’t make her nervous.

She doesn’t need reassurance with him because she already knows how madly in love they are with one another and how they are undeniably bound to spend the rest of their lives together. The silences they share are comfortable for her, his simple presence enough to make her feel at ease and loved and respected without him having to constantly remind her.

And surely, Y/n still chews his ear off here and there, but he only ever wants more of her.

It’s a disease, his greed and longing for her. She is so enough yet so not enough at the same time, it kills him to think about it, but only in the best way possible.

But the smile and the admiration die down nearly instantly when Harry’s eyes catch the way the bartender looks at Y/n, and the way he straightens himself before her, and the way his bottom lip tucks between his teeth ever so slightly.

Harry crosses his arms at this, watching the way another man is drooling and fonding over his Y/n and not at all trying to hide it. And the sad part is that he can’t even blame him for it — how could he? He had done the very same thing for nearly two years straight.

So he suffers with it in silence.

“My goodness, I do love me a woman who can carry a conversation.”

Harry’s eyes squint over at him, his arms still crossed over his chest, his fingers twisting as he watches him blink flirtatiously at Y/n and the upward twitch of his lip whenever she flips her hair over her shoulder.

She only ever does that when she’s sweating, he knows this because she’s his girlfriend and he knows her more than he’s ever known himself. He also knows that Y/n thinks too lowly of herself to ever consider one’s kindness as flirting.

And though Harry wouldn’t dare to dream of changing anything about her, he does wish, just this once, that she’d see it.

Y/n blushes at his comment, but only because she doesn’t know what to say.

“Can I have another shot, please?” She asks as a form of distraction, but in such a sweet manner the bartender barely seems to notice. “I never get to go out to drink much nowadays, with work and all. So, I’m sorry if I order too much. Large groups of people aren’t really my thing. Not that I hate people, or anything. I guess they just make me nervous.”

And as the bartender pours her shot glass full of tequila, his eyes don’t make the slightest move to leave her. He’s gawking, looking smug as if he could ever stand a chance.

Y/n pretends not to notice.

“Look, I close down the bar in an hour. And since large groups of people aren’t really your thing, why don’t I take you somewhere nice —”

“Oh...”

“— just you and me, so I can have the chance to get to know you more? Maybe in more ways than one, if I’m lucky?”

Oh, fuck no.

Flirting is one thing, but listening as some stranger talks about wanting to have sex with his girlfriend is something entirely different. Especially when she hasn’t done anything other than be nice and considerate towards him.

He’s taking advantage of her kindness.

Harry can’t hold himself back anymore.

“Excuse me?”

And curse his fucking natural lack of emotion because it was supposed to sound threatening and protective, but rather, it must have come off the way any other customer were to grab a bartender’s attention because he looks over at him with a tight and strained smile, clearly laced with annoyance, with not a hint of suspicion.

“Yes, sir, what can I help you with?”

Harry clenches his jaw and nods his head, his gaze falling to the top of the bar as he tries — really, really tries — to keep himself together instead of knocking this poor bloke’s teeth in.

The urge is there, but he could never scare Y/n like that, or sacrifice his job for satisfaction’s sake — he was lucky he didn’t jeopardize it when he landed a solid right hook on his coworker a few months back. But to make such a rude, blunt, disrespectful comment to his girlfriend is too much for him to process.

But it’s not all anger. There’s something else there — something else brewing and swelling inside of him that’s never been there before. He can’t identify it no matter how hard he tries.

“It would help me tremendously, actually, if you were to stop asking to sleep with my girlfriend right in front of me.”

It’s silent for a moment, the air thick with tension as the bartender looks both between Harry and Y/n, Y/n and Harry. He looks weary of it, as if it were so impossible for her to ever be seen with somebody like him.

“You’re with him?” He asks Y/n, as if Harry’s word wasn’t enough and it nearly throws him off the deep end.

Y/n’s eyes blink with confusion and shock as she tries to adjust herself to her surroundings. Everything happened so quickly to her, she feels like she can’t keep up.

Harry senses this — he senses her uncertainty and uneasiness and takes notice in the way her fingers begin to grip at her shot glass a bit tighter. Confrontation and arguments are not Y/n’s strong suit and in the hands of either one, she is defenseless.

“Is my word not enough for you?”

The bartender lifts his hands up in defense, his eyebrows raised as if somehow proving a point he’s clearly been missing. “Can’t blame me for assuming she’s single, you’re sitting next to the prettiest girl on earth and you look like you couldn’t even be bothered.”

Harry’s hands turn to fists, his jaw clenching and eyebrows twitching as he hears him speak all the words he’d rather die than hear spoken again.

How a complete stranger can cut a wound so deep within him is unfathomable, but here he is, bleeding out with all his insecurities and flaws and weaknesses along with it. And it pains him. It hurts and if one more wrong word is spoken, he’ll fall victim to all the darkest parts of himself.

He can’t risk that, not around Y/n.

“I would highly suggest you stop talking now —”

“You aren’t even interested in her! I gave her more attention in the last ten minutes than you’ve given her all night!”

“Hey.” Y/n cuts in with pouted lips, her face fallen as her voice quivers at the argument brewing in front of her. “That’s not true. He — he’s been beside me all night. I thought it was — I thought it was obvious.”

“Doesn’t matter anymore. We’re going home.”

Harry’s tone is unlike anything she’s ever heard. It’s stern, harsh, laced with impatience as he stands from his barstool and scrambles to gather her belongings.

And Y/n’s at a loss, just standing against the bar helplessly, looking at Harry with tearful eyes and shaking lips. He has never been this angry at her before and she doesn’t know how to fix it. Talking was what got them into this mess, she’s sure talking won’t get themselves out of it.

But it doesn’t hurt to try.

“Wait, H. I’m sorry, I —”

“That’s enough, now. We’re making our last rounds and then we’re going straight home.”

That was the first time he’s ever interrupted her.

-

It isn’t until Harry starts the car that Y/n breaks the silence.

“H, I didn’t know he was going to ask me out on a date.” She speaks with a voice small and shoulders slumped as she tries desperately to fix all the trust she has broken. “I was just trying to be nice and —”

“Not now, Y/n, please.”

She realizes the severity of the situation when he doesn’t call her a pet name.

Her eyes fill with tears, fully aware that even when he was most upset with her, he never interrupted her while talking or avoided her gaze like it was the last thing he ever wanted to see. He’s doing both right now and to say that it hurt her is an understatement.

He’s sick of hearing me speak. He’s angry at me for talking too much to everybody and not noticing the consequences. He’s tired of listening to me make excuses for myself when I’m never going to change. He doesn’t want this anymore.

Her mind can’t help but to think such things, and though deep down in her heart she knows he’d never feel that way towards her, words of her past can’t help but torment her in the heat of this moment. Because this is so different than how it usually is with him, and it all started with her.

Harry can feel how much of a toll his words took on her, but he doesn’t know what to say. He is feeling so many things, and processing so much, he feels like he’s lost himself. All sense of everything else had left him the second the bartender spoke the words he always feared to hear.

You’re sitting next to the prettiest girl on earth and you look like you couldn’t even be bothered.

He knows it isn’t true, and he also knows she knows it isn’t true, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less.

To know other people see it that way devastates him. He doesn’t date Y/n to look uninterested in her, or bored of her, or tired to be with her — he dates Y/n because he wants to show her off, desires to make her and everybody else see how in love with her he is, to make it known she never has to walk this world alone.

To know he has failed to do that simply by being himself is a lot for him to take in.

He sighs, ripping off his glasses so his other hand can rub at his burning eyes before settling the both of them back on the steering wheel, his gaze still set on the windshield.

“I’m sorry for not letting you finish talking, twice now. It wasn’t right and I know what that does to you. And I’m not angry or upset with you, either. I’m just — I’m just not in the mood right now, alright? I need some time to think.”

Y/n nods, fearing that whatever words she chooses to speak will only make it worse.

Neither of them talk the rest of the way home, but that doesn’t mean Harry doesn’t reach his hand over to her thigh to squeeze at it three times, as if to tell her he loves her.

-

It isn’t until they make it into their bedroom that Harry starts to let it all out.

He’s pacing, his hands fidgeting with his clothes and running through his hair, his eyes wild but still refusing to look at her, muttering curses under his breath but nothing directly towards her just yet.

Y/n’s standing by the dresser, taking off her remaining jewelry and allowing him his time to dwell on his feelings. He needs this. She knows she’s the only person that he’ll ever show this kind of emotion to — he couldn't even show it to himself — so she listens, smiles sympathetically at him here and there, refusing to leave his side until this is all figured out.

He huffs before letting out a sickened laugh.

“Who the hell does he think he is? Telling me I’m not interested in you. I can’t be walking around kissing and hovering and touching all over you at a work party, I respect you too much. But he wouldn’t know a damn thing about that, would he?”

He throws his suit jacket down on the bed, only allowing himself one beat of a moment to shake his head before his hands start to fidget again, pacing around the foot of the bed to try and understand his primary emotion.

He feels a million and ten different emotions scrambling within him at once, he can’t make sense of them. Whether he’s angry, or sad, or hurt, or insecure, or humiliated… he doesn’t know. It all feels the same yet all feels so different. He is utterly lost in all of them.

“Then proceeds to have the nerve to say he’s given you more attention than I have. What the fuck does that even mean? All he does is serve you two drinks and speak one sentence. I give you all my time, all my company, all my attention, and somehow he thinks he’s better for you than me?”

And it hits her.

No wonder he’s been acting so different towards her and so quiet despite him not blaming her for what happened — he’s jealous, which is the exact reason he doesn’t have an understanding with it.

She’s his first girlfriend, and until now, there had never been any reason for him to feel this way.

But as sick and twisted as it sounds, Y/n’s heart warms at the thought of it. Because never once has someone ever had a problem with letting her go. Her loss never affected anybody around her, and so nobody had ever feared it.

To know that out of all people, it’s him who does, means everything to her.

She hums at him, an all too knowing smile on her face as she makes her way to her frantic lover, who stills when he notices her closeness.

Her hands rest at his chest, rubbing at it over his dress shirt, just the way he likes. It reminds him of the night of their first date — when she gave into her cravings and put her hands nearly everywhere they could touch — and so she always goes back to that very first moment.

It never fails him.

“It’s okay, lovebug.” Y/n smiles softly at him, her voice even more soft and tender than usual as she tries to get him to relax.

Her hands slither down the hem of his trousers, her fingers resting just above the swell of his bum and pulling him in closer to her. And he wraps his arms around her shoulders, a heavy sigh leaving his lips before bringing his chest toward her cheek for it to nest in.

“Don’t let somebody get the best of you. Especially when they don’t know anything about you or me or our relationship. We know what we are and what we have, it doesn’t matter what he thinks is better for me. I have what’s best. Forever.”

He sighs, the weight of the night lifting from him slightly, but not enough.

He rests his chin on the top of her head, his eyes on the verge of being soaked with tears. Because though he knows her words to be true, he just can’t seem to shake what’s rattling in his bones and picking at his skin.

He wants it all to be okay, and it almost is, just not fully. And it’s killing him from the inside out.

“It’s a new feeling for me.” Harry confesses sadly, trying to think of the right words to say to explain what’s burning in his chest. “It hurts me to feel it. I’m so comfortable and confident in you and yet somehow I can’t — I can’t stop thinking about you and that fucking bartender and him touching you and making you laugh and —”

“You’re jealous.”

She pulls away from him slightly, her eyes looking up at him softly and sympathetically. He gives into her gaze for only a beat longer before looking away from her again, unable to take it.

It all makes sense — the unfamiliar feelings, the scrambling of emotions, the sensitivity to the words that had been spoken about him. His relationship had been threatened for the first time since it started, how could he not be?

“Of course I’m jealous. Which is absolutely horrible because you look so pretty yet it hurts too much to look at you.”

She chuckles, a playful smirk on her face as she reaches her hands up to his cheeks. And she turns his head to the side, forcing his eyes to look into hers as she rubs her thumb along his cheekbones.

Even like this, he is the most perfect man she’s ever seen. She has loved this person longer than she has loved anything else, how he could ever feel jealous of anybody is absolutely beyond her. He is all she will ever need, and everything she will ever want.

He is the only person that has ever deserved her.

“Baby, you have nothing to be jealous of. I don’t think, since the moment I’ve laid eyes on you, I’ve ever bothered to look for anybody else.” His breath faults, then, his heart dropping as if it were falling in love all over again.

And just like that, the hurt is gone.

“I’m yours, H. I have always been yours.”

He wants her to keep going, so instead of answering, he taps the back of her thigh twice. He’s never done so outside of sex, but he needs her all over him, holding him, hanging onto him. He needs it now more than ever.

She giggles, understanding exactly what he wants before jumping up until her legs are wrapped around his waist and her arms are looped around his neck. He catches her instantly, snuggling his face into the crook of her neck and kissing at the exposed skin.

She loves how much her words have an affect on him.

“I love you so much. I always will. No matter how many sleazy men ask me to sleep with them.”

He whines, lifting his head from her shoulder before looking at her with sad eyes and pouted lips at the subtle reminder that somebody else thought of her that way. Only he has, only he can, it doesn’t matter the circumstance.

She’s his.

She smiles down at him with a small blush on her cheeks, her arms unwrapping from his neck so her hands can grip his face again.

“I sleep with you. Every night. In more ways than one.” She kisses at his lips. “Cause I’m lucky.”

And for the first time tonight, he smiles. And as if that wasn’t enough for her, he laughs too — quietly, breathlessly — his hands rubbing all along her lower back and her thighs.

“Hmm... I am lucky, aren’t I?” Harry hums in bliss, his eyes looking at her fondly as she hangs on his neck in their home and it doesn’t get better than this. She had a man practically drooling on her lap and yet she’s here, with him, loving him, choosing him, just like she always has. “I do have the prettiest girl in the world. And the sweetest. And the strongest.”

“Too bad you couldn’t be bothered.” She teases, a smirk on her lips before her tongue pokes out to run quickly against his closed lips.

He lets out an almost sinister laugh, rumbling so deep in his chest she somehow manages to feel it in her legs.

“Why don’t I show you how bothered I am?”