#and then. when I got home. I decided to shave my head instead of trying to fix the haircut again

[b4kuch1n]

polymer broadcast signal hijack

[v6quewrlds]

❝ slim shady, j. burrow. ❞  ‎ ‎ ┉  

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀summary: your boyfriend is cool, calm, collected, and now platinum blonde? though you're mentally conflicted, you can't help but feel drawn to his new look.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀author's note: requested by an anon! this was supposed to be sunday’s game day fic but here it is today instead lol i am a proud og supporter of the buzz cut and it comes out in this fic. i will die on the "joe says cock not dick" hill.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀warnings: smut, please do not interact with my work if you are under 18. language, sexual content, handjob, romantic dick sucking.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀pairing: joe burrow x reader.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀word count: 2.1k.

You hummed to the rhythm of a song you couldn't quite remember, the office's background noise muffled as you waited for your coffee to brew. The sleek, black machine hissed and spat, the scent of dark roast filling the air. You checked your phone, scrolling through the mundane emails and notifications that had accumulated since your last break. Your thumb hovered over the screen, ready to dismiss the unimportant.

Then you saw it: an image sent from Joe. Your boyfriend's name illuminated on your screen as your lips broke in a quiet smile. Curiosity piqued, you tapped it open, expecting one of Joe's rare but charming selfies with his usual wide blue eyes and awkward poses.

But your eyes widened when the image loaded—instead of the familiar mess of dirty blonde hair, you found a bald head with a wide smile. The message beneath read, "New look what do you think?" Your jaw dropped as you stared at the screen, the buzz of the office around you fading into white noise.

Your mind raced with questions.

Why hadn't he told you? What was the occasion for this dramatic change?

But the office was not the place to get into this. You had a meeting in about five minutes and the coffee was finished brewing, the aroma now taunting you with the promise of a jolting caffeine rush you desperately needed.

With trembling fingers, you typed out a text, trying to match the easy light-heartedness of his message. "Why the fuck are you bald?" You decided to add an unimpressed emoji to remove any ambiguity from your words.

Joe's response was swift. "It'll grow back?" He wrote with a laughing emoji. "Got bored. Thought I'd try something new." You could practically hear the nonchalance in his voice and you couldn't decide if it pissed you off or intrigued you. The dryness of his text was typical Joe—always questionably calm. But this was a surprise you weren't quite ready to laugh off. You took a sip of your coffee, the heat scalding your tongue as you thought about his new look.

The day dragged on, your thoughts inexplicably drawn back to Joe's bald head. You had seen him in every hairstyle imaginable—undercut, grown out, and even a questionable middle part that you had mercifully convinced him to abandon under the guise of bad luck—but this was a step beyond. You tried to focus on the spreadsheets and emails, but the image of Joe's egg head kept popping up in your mind.

By the time you left the office, your curiosity had morphed into something else entirely. An excitement you hadn't felt in a while, a thrill that made your pulse quicken. You drove home, your hand subconsciously tracing the steering wheel as you imagined running your fingers over his newly shaved scalp.

The anticipation grew as you pulled into Joe's driveway. You took a deep breath before letting yourself in, the cool evening air a stark contrast to the warmth that awaited you inside. "Joe!" you called out, your voice echoing through the house.

"In the kitchen!" his voice responded, and you could hear the smack of a fridge door closing. You kicked off your heels, the sound of your bare feet padding against the cool, tiled floor.

As you entered the kitchen, you saw him standing by the counter, a protein shake in one hand, and his phone in the other. Your eyes scanned upwards from his broad shoulders, taking in the stark contrast of his bald head against his muscular physique. He looked up and caught your stare, his blue eyes twinkling with amusement.

"You bleached it," you murmured, the words leaving your lips in a breathy exhale. The kitchen lights reflected off his pale scalp, giving him an unexpected edginess.

Joe chuckled, leaning against the counter. "Surprise," he said, raising an eyebrow.

Your hand flew to your mouth. "Oh my god," you whispered. "It's... it's not just a buzzcut, it's—"

"Platinum," Joe filled in, taking a sip of his shake. "Figured why not go all out?"

Your eyes roamed over his features, now so sharply defined without the hair to frame them. His strong jaw, the crinkles of his eyes, his stubbled chin—it all looked more pronounced. And you had to admit, incredibly sexy. The shock was giving way to something else, something warm and fluttery in your stomach.

He watched you, his gaze expectant, a smirk playing on his lips. You stepped closer, reaching out tentatively to touch his head. The warmth of his skin was unexpected, and you couldn't help but let out a small giggle. He leaned into your touch, his eyes crinkling as you traced your fingers over the smooth surface.

"I can't decide if..." you said, trying to find the words. "If you look like you should be in a shitty boy band or if you're channeling Slim Shady."

Joe's smirk grew into a full-blown grin. "Slim Shiesty," he quipped, his voice low and playful. "You know you love it." He teased, his chest rumbling with quiet laughter as he took your hands in his.

You felt your smile widen, your heart racing. You didn't know if it was the caffeine from the coffee or the sudden realization that you were incredibly turned on by his new look. The way his muscles flexed as he held onto your hands, the glint in his eye as he watched your reaction—it was all too much.

Your eyes drifted to his lips, and you leaned in, capturing them in a kiss that was equal parts surprise and desire. His grip tightened, and you felt him pull you closer, the coldness of the countertop pressing into your back as his body molded against yours. His free hand roamed your waist, his thumb grazing the sensitive skin just above your hip bone.

"So you like it?" Joe murmured, his breath warm against your cheek as he leaned into you. You felt the heat from his skin and the tension coiling in your belly. You couldn't believe it, but you were insatiably attracted to this new look for him.

"Yeah," you breathed into Joe's ear, your voice silky with want, "I guess so."

Your hands slid down his body, tracing the planes of his chest before coming to rest at the waistband of his sweatpants. He leaned into your touch, his breath hitching. The kitchen light crafted an artificial halo as it bounced off the dye in his hair, and you found yourself craving more of him.

Without breaking the kiss, you tugged at his waistband, and Joe's laughter turned into a groan as your hand found its way to his cock. You wrapped your cold fingers around it, feeling it twitch and thicken in your palm. He pulled away, his eyes dark with hunger. "What do you think you're doing?" he murmured, his voice gruff.

You smirked up at him, your eyes full of mischief. "I'm just... indulging the new look," you said, your voice a seductive purr. You sank to your knees, your eyes glued to his. The kitchen floor was cold, but you barely noticed as the heat between the two of you grew.

Joe's eyes widened, and for a moment, he just stared at you, his cock twitching in his pants. "Babe," he said, his voice thick with lust. But you were already untying the drawstring, his dick springing free, hard and eager.

You took him in your mouth, your eyes fluttering shut as you tasted his surprise and arousal. He was an intoxicating mixture of salty and sweet, and you moaned around him, your tongue swirling and teasing the head. The kitchen light danced over your dark skin and cast shadows across Joe's face as he watched you.

He tangled his fingers in your braids, gently guiding your movements, setting a pace that made him groan. Your eyes flew open to meet his, the blue of his irises burning into the brown of yours. Your cheeks hollowed as you took him deeper, your cheeks hollowing with the effort. The taste of him filled your mouth, the smell of his cologne mixed with the scent of the kitchen's citrus cleaner.

Joe's hips involuntarily bucked forward, pushing him further into your throat, and you gagged lightly, your eyes watering. He stilled, his hand coming up to cup your face gently. "You okay?" he asked, his voice a hoarse whisper from the effort of holding back just long enough to indulge in the pleasure you were giving him.

You nodded, your mouth still full. You pulled back with a pop, your lips glistening with the sinful mixture of his precum and your gloss, your eyes gleaming. "Yeah," you murmured, licking your lips. "Perfect."

Joe's gaze was intense, his eyes locked on yours as you took him in your mouth again. He groaned, his grip on your braids tightening, his thumb caressing your cheek. The sound was like a symphony to your ears, the sight of him lost in pleasure pushing your own desire to new heights. You bobbed your head, your rhythm increasing, your tongue flicking and dancing around his shaft.

You felt a rush of power, the kind that only came from knowing you could make him lose control. His breath grew ragged, his hips jerking in time with your movements as his stomach tensed. One of his hands gripped the counter as he cursed under his breath. You could feel his muscles tensing, his legs quivering slightly, and you smiled at the sight of him slowly losing it.

The sound of your mouth moving over him was the only noise in the kitchen, the slick sounds of your saliva mingling with his groans. You reached up and took hold of the base of his cock, your mouth releasing him as your thumb danced over his angry tip. He swore, his eyes squeezing shut as he fought the urge to come.

"Babe," he warned, his voice strained. "If you keep doing that..."

But you were beyond listening. The thrill of his impending orgasm was intoxicating, and you were determined to push him over the edge. You bit your bottom lip with a smirk, a knowing glimmer in your eyes as you watched your boyfriend throw his head back. With a surge of boldness, you kept your seductive gaze on his face as you licked a slow, deliberate stripe from the base of his cock to the tip, tasting him fully.

Joe's knees buckled slightly, now reaching to grip the counter with both hands to keep steady. "Yeah, suck this cock, beautiful," he hissed, his voice a desperate plea.

At the sound of his command, you didn't relent. With a wicked smile, you took him back into your mouth, your other hand now stroking the velvety skin of his balls. The sensation was too much for him, and he let out a strangled groan, his entire body seizing. You felt the warmth of his seed fill your mouth, and you swallowed, your brown eyes round as they stared up into his.

You pulled back, your chin glistening with spit, your expression smug. Joe looked down at you, his chest heaving, his eyes dark with passion. "You're crazy," he murmured, his voice low and gravelly. "But I fucking love it."

He helped you stand to your feet, your eyes still locked. The kitchen light cast shadows over his bald head, giving him a mysterious allure that had your heart racing. He leaned in and kissed you, his tongue tracing your teeth and tangled with yours, sharing the taste of himself. It was a kiss filled with passion and a hint of appreciation, one that left your knees weak.

You broke the kiss with a giggle, wiping at your mouth. "You know, I think the bleached look really suits you, Slim," you said, your voice filled with a teasing lilt.

Joe's eyes lit up, his smirk growing as he leaned down to whisper in your ear, "Yeah? Maybe I should keep it then."

You playfully slapped his chest. "You better not, I didn’t say all that," you said, though the breathlessness in your voice betrayed you. "But for now, I can deal with it."

The two of you pulled apart, and Joe took a step back, looking down at you with a grin. "Deal with it, huh?" he challenged. "We'll see about that." His words were met with a confused look from you, but before you could ask him what he meant, he took a swing of his protein shake, set it down, scooped you up, and threw you over his shoulder.

"Joe!" you squealed, laughter bubbling up from your chest as he carried you out of the kitchen. You smacked his ass playfully, but the truth was, you were thrilled. The excitement of the unexpected was like a drug, and you were eager for more.

[daeniradraconis]

Right Where You Left Me

Hey, Lovelies! ✨

Sorry I’m a little late — my Mac decided to quit on me today 😅, and I spent the whole night saving my files. But all is well now! Everything’s backed up, so here’s hoping no more tech issues in the future. 🌙

Before we get into the first chapter of William and Eli’s story, I want to share something fun. For each chapter, I’ve chosen a song that I think fits the mood or foreshadows something ahead. If you play the song while reading (hit play on the video above the text), it can add a little extra layer to the story — sometimes you might even catch a hint of what’s coming next! 🎶

Anyway, here’s the first chapter of William and Eli’s story! I hope you enjoy! 🫶🏼

Themes/Warnings: Hannah Elise Hughes x William Nylander, love at first sight, weddings, pure fluff, mentions of a car crash and injury

Chapter 1: A Promise Under the Stars

June 27, 2014

The sun���s been sitting heavy all afternoon, warm and lazy, the kind of heat that makes the grass smell sweeter. You’re stretched out on the lawn, elbows propped, legs kicked out in front of you, pretending to read Greek and Roman History of Art — a book you’ve read so many times it might as well be your diary. But you’re not really reading. Not today.

Your brothers are at it again.

You don’t even have to look to know what’s happening. Jack’s yelling, Luke’s trying to keep up, and Quinn’s probably rolling his eyes while doing everything better than both of them. The clatter of rollerblades on the driveway, the slap of sticks, the crash of a puck hitting the side of the garage — it’s like background music you never asked for.

You glance up anyway.

Yup. There they are. Jack’s already got his shirt off like he’s playing for the Stanley Cup instead of sweating through another backyard game. Luke’s copying him, all limbs and attitude. And Quinn, steady as always, holding it all together with that calm “old soul” energy he’s had since birth.

You roll your eyes and let out a sigh. Loud enough to be heard if anyone was paying attention.

You love them. You do. Jack, all wild energy and reckless chaos, like a storm that never quite settles. Luke, the baby of the family, all big eyes and easy charm — a golden retriever in human form. And Quinn, the quiet one, steady and serious, with a calm kind of passion that runs deeper than he lets on. They’re your brothers, and they’re home. But some days, it feels like you were dropped into the wrong family by mistake. A Hughes who can’t skate? Blasphemy.

You tried once. You really did. At 11 years old, bundled in gear three sizes too big, wobbling on skates like a baby deer. Quinn held your hands, patient and kind, while Jack chirped from the bench and laughed when you hit the ice face-first. You lasted maybe half an hour before you ripped off the helmet and declared hockey the enemy.

Ellen — your mom — just smiled. “Stick to your books, Eli,” she said, brushing ice shavings off your coat. “That brain of yours will get you further than a slapshot.”

So you did. You built your world out of stories and soil — history textbooks, dog-eared art guides, a garden full of stubborn tomato plants you refuse to give up on, no matter how many times your brothers trample them chasing after a ball.

“Eli! We need a goalie!”

Jack’s voice cuts through the afternoon like a fire alarm. You don’t look up.

“We’re down a man!”

“Don’t care,” you mumble.

“Get over here, nerd!”

Luke. Of course.

You flip a page, even though you’re not reading it. “Yell one more time, and I’m snapping your sticks in half while you sleep.”

Jack snorts. “You’d probably cry if you chipped a nail.”

“I’d cry if I had to live with you forever,” you shoot back, deadpan.

Luke gasps dramatically. “She doesn’t love us.”

“Fix your helmet, Luke,” you add. “It’s halfway off your head, you walking concussion.”

From the garage, Quinn’s voice cuts in, flat and amused. “Jack, you couldn’t score on an empty net. Luke, stop trying to be Jack. And Eli, please don’t murder them before dinner.”

You smile. Just a little.

Quinn’s always been the balance. The one who sees you when you go quiet, the one who reads the room without needing a single word. Maybe it’s because you’re closest in age, or maybe it’s just the way he sees the world, but you’ve always felt closest to him. Like he just gets it — gets you — in a way the others don’t.

Still, it’s exhausting sometimes. Being the only one who doesn’t speak “sports.” Like you’re a guest in your own home.

You pull your knees up, rest your book against them, and stare out at the garden. Your basil looks droopy. One of the tomato cages is crooked. You think about moving it, but—

The sound of tires crunching gravel stops you.

You look up.

Your dad’s car is pulling into the driveway, and for a second, everything feels normal. You expect him to step out, maybe toss Luke a water bottle, ask if Jack’s broken anything today.

But then the passenger door opens.

And someone else gets out first.

He’s tall. Really tall. His golden blonde hair almost looks white under the sun, and his eyes — blue, clear, like the ocean on a perfect day. There’s something about the way he walks, the smooth confidence in his stride, that catches your breath. He looks… different. Like he stepped out of a storybook. Like the version of Prince Charming no one told you actually existed. And for a second, you honestly wonder if you’ve just imagined him.

He glances around, and then — he sees you.

Just for a second. A flicker of a glance. But it hits like a lightning strike.

You forget the book in your lap. You forget the sun on your shoulders. All you can think is: Oh.

Your heart, which was perfectly fine a minute ago, starts doing something weird. Like it’s trying to crawl up into your throat.

“Kids!” your dad calls out. “Come say hello! This is William Nylander. He just got drafted, and he’s staying with us for a bit while he settles in.”

The name clicks, vaguely. Hockey. Leafs. But honestly, your brain is busy with other things.

Like the way William is walking toward you, easy and sure, hands tucked in his pockets. Like he’s stepping straight into your daydream and bringing it to life.

Jack drops his stick. “No way! He’s a Leaf?! That’s so sick!”

Luke’s already bouncing. “Wait, like on the team team?!”

William laughs — soft, polite, a little bashful. But his eyes haven’t left yours.

And then, he stops in front of you. You.

He flashes a grin — just crooked enough to feel dangerous.

“Hi,” he says, voice low and smooth. “I’m William.”

He says it like it’s obvious. Like of course that’s who he is. And maybe it should be — with that smile, that hair, that confidence like he already knows you’re staring.

Your stomach flips so hard it might do a full somersault. Words? Gone. Logic? Useless. All you can think about is how warm your face feels and how suddenly awkward your hands are, just sitting there like they forgot how to be hands.

You manage to squeak out, “Hi.”

It’s quiet. Too quiet. You sound like someone just rewound your whole personality and left it on mute.

He looks amused. Not in a mean way — in a charming, "this is cute" kind of way. Like he knows exactly the effect he’s having on you.

Your dad’s saying something — something about him staying here for a couple of weeks until his apartment’s ready. But it’s background noise now.

He’s going to be living here.

With you.

You’re pretty sure your soul just left your body.

You glance up again, and he’s still looking at you, still smiling, like this is all some kind of inside joke he hasn’t let you in on yet.

And that’s when it hits you. You’re in trouble. Like... real trouble.

Because this isn’t just a crush. Not even close.

You're in love.

And he hasn’t even made it through the front door.

—

The next two weeks are a blur. Not in a busy, chaotic way, but in a dreamlike, everything-is-new kind of way. William’s presence feels like an added layer to everything you’ve known. He’s in your house, under your roof, sharing your space, and it’s almost surreal how easily he slips into your world.

He’s still the same charming, confident guy from that first moment. He talks with that easy, magnetic confidence that makes everyone gravitate toward him. But what surprises you the most is how he makes space for you in the midst of it all.

Every morning, he’s in the kitchen, making coffee, and when you shuffle in — hair a mess, sleep still heavy in your eyes — he’s always there with a quiet “Good morning,” and that crooked, too-perfect-for-him smile. It’s like he knows exactly how to make you feel like the only person in the room, even if Jack’s already rambling about his latest skateboarding tricks and Luke’s stuffing his face with cereal. William doesn’t mind. He just listens. Really listens, in a way that makes you feel like you could tell him anything.

And you find yourself telling him things. Little things. 

Like how you started gardening because it felt like the only thing that could grow in the chaos of your family. How Ellen once tried to teach you to skate and you cried on the ice. How you’ve read Greek and Roman History of Art so many times it’s basically your second language. How you despise salted caramel with such passion that you believe its fans deserve a short, contemplative exile in purgatory.

He doesn’t laugh. He just nods like it’s all valuable information.

“You really like art, huh?” he asks one night on the porch.

It’s late — one of those velvet-sky summer nights where time slows. You’re in your usual spot, knees pulled to your chest, hoodie sleeves over your hands. He’s next to you, hoodie half-zipped, legs stretched out, hair still damp from his shower. He smells like clean soap and warm skin.

You nod. “It’s not just that I like art. I love it. And not just paintings — I mean the whole thing. Art history. Architecture. The stories built into stone.”

He glances over, intrigued. You go on before you can stop yourself.

“I read about the Pantheon when I was thirteen. This giant, ancient Roman temple in the middle of the city — still standing. I’ve never even been to Rome, but the pictures? Unreal. The dome is a perfect hemisphere — same diameter as its height. They built it without modern tools, and no one even knows exactly how. The concrete they used? Still hasn’t cracked. The oculus — that giant hole in the roof — it’s open to the sky. Rain falls right through it. But the floor is sloped, with invisible drains, so the water just disappears.”

You pause, but he’s still looking at you, listening.

“It’s not just architecture. It’s—” You shake your head, smiling a little. “It’s art. The kind that makes your chest feel too full. It was built to honor all the gods, but they made it feel like it could touch the universe. Like they wanted to bring the heavens into reach.”

You hug your knees tighter. “And it’s still there. People walk into it every day. Into something made almost two thousand years ago. You can feel the history pressing in around you. It’s like standing in a heartbeat that never stopped.”

William is quiet for a long moment.“That’s… amazing.”

You laugh a little, embarrassed. “Sorry. I get carried away.”

“No.” He shakes his head. “Don’t apologize. I think it’s incredible that you care about something that deeply.”

You glance over, unsure. But he’s smiling — that quiet, thoughtful smile he doesn’t give out easily.

“I think that’s what art’s supposed to do,” he says. “Make you feel something you can’t really explain. Even if it’s just a building or a painting. Doesn’t matter. If it moves you, it matters.”

You blink. That’s… not what you expected. William Nylander — hockey guy, professional athlete, and also someone who actually gets art? 

“You’re full of surprises,” you murmur.

He smiles, sensing your surprise. "What? You didn’t think I was all hockey, did you?"

“I mean… kind of.”

“Wow,” he says, mock-offended. “I’m layered, Eli. Deeply complex.”

You laugh, but it sticks in your chest, warm. Because somehow, it’s true — he’s funny, confident, ridiculous… and he sees you. Not as one of the Hughes siblings. Not as the quiet one. Just…you.

That’s how you end up here. Most nights, side by side on the porch while the house buzzes behind you.

Tonight is no different — quiet air, cicadas in the trees, stars overhead like someone scattered glitter across navy velvet. Your bare toes brush his knee by accident, but he doesn’t move.

You look over. He’s fiddling with the cap on his water bottle, uncharacteristically quiet. The kind of silence that makes you want to fill it with something soft.

“I always wanted a dog,” you say.

He turns, eyebrows raised slightly. “Yeah?”

“Since I was five. Every birthday, every Christmas. I begged. Once I even made a Power Point on why a dog would help with my emotional development.” You snort. “Didn’t work.”

“What’d they say?”

“That I already had three brothers and that was enough chaos for one household.”

He laughs — that warm, low sound that always makes your stomach twist. “Fair. But brutal.”

You smile, leaning your head back. “I even had this whole Pinterest board. His name was going to be Pablo. He’d wear a little bandana and sleep at the foot of my bed.”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Pablo? That’s kinda badass. Like a mob boss or something.”

You giggle, nudging him lightly. “Exactly! Super manly, right?”

William hums like he’s really considering it. “I’ll get you one.”

You blink. “What?”

“When I get my place. You move in. I’ll get you a dog.”

You snort a laugh, but your face feels suddenly way too warm. “William. I’m seventeen.”

He smirks. “So? It doesn’t have to be today. Just… someday. I mean—” he stretches his arms over his head, all long limbs and relaxed confidence “—I’m just saying, I could see it. Me, you, a golden retriever with too much energy. Maybe a garden. I’d build you a whole greenhouse if you wanted.”

You laugh again, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”

He leans in closer, just enough that you feel the heat of him, his voice suddenly lower, teasing. “Nah. I’m serious. I think you’d look really cute walking a dog in one of those oversized sweaters. Maybe wearing my hoodie. Nothing underneath.”

“William.” You choke on a laugh, heat crawling up your neck.

He grins like he’s just scored a goal in overtime. “What? I’m a romantic.”

“You’re a menace.”

“And yet,” he says, leaning in just slightly, “you’re still sitting right here.”

You roll your eyes, but your pulse is loud in your ears. The porch feels smaller, the air charged.

He shifts closer. Not suddenly — slowly, deliberately — like he’s checking to see if you’ll stop him.

You don’t.

His hand lifts, brushing a piece of hair from your cheek. But it’s not just a gesture. It’s careful. Intentional. His fingertips graze your skin like he’s memorizing it, like this moment matters. And maybe it does. Maybe it always has.

You can’t think. Can’t move. The world narrows to the space between you — to the heat pulsing there, to the way your lungs forget how to work.

“I meant it,” he says softly, his voice a low thrum against the quiet night. “I’d get you that dog. Or anything you wanted.”

You look up at him — and this time, you don’t look away. Your voice is barely a breath.

“I just want you to kiss me.”

And then everything shifts.

He leans in — slowly, like he’s giving you every second to change your mind. But you don’t. You couldn’t, even if you wanted to. And then his lips are on yours.

It’s not fireworks. It’s not chaos.

It’s warm.

Soft at first — almost hesitant, like he’s learning the shape of you, tasting the moment. His lips are tender, sure, and it’s careful — not rushed, not greedy, but full of something deeper. Something real. The kind of kiss that makes time slow down, stretch thin. Like your heartbeat just synced to his.

You breathe him in — soap, skin, sun-warmed cotton — and everything else disappears. No porch. No summer night. Just the quiet pull of it, of him, of this thing you didn’t see coming but somehow always knew was meant to happen.

His hand slides to the back of your neck, fingers tangling gently in your hair. You melt — literally melt — into him, into that touch, into that kiss, like your body finally understands what safe feels like.

When he finally pulls back, it’s just an inch — enough for his eyes to settle on yours, lingering, as if he’s trying to memorize every detail. His thumb strokes your cheek, slow and deliberate, like he's tracing the very shape of you in his mind.

His gaze dips to your lips, his voice low, thick with something that makes your pulse race.

“Your dad’s probably going to kill me, you know that, right?”

You laugh softly, the sound escaping with more ease than you expected. You shake your head, the playful glint in your eyes never fading. “Oh, don’t worry about it. I’m his favorite. I’ll handle him. Just…don’t break my heart, okay?”

For a beat, his smile falters, just a fraction, before his eyes soften with an intensity that makes your heart skip. He leans in, his breath warming your lips, and for a moment, the world goes still.

“Never,” he murmurs, his voice barely a whisper, just before his lips brush against yours again — slow, gentle, as if he’s savoring the very moment, the very feeling of you against him.

—

The August sun spills gold across the edges of the white tent strung with fairy lights and swaying eucalyptus garlands. Toronto’s late-summer air hums warm and bright, the breeze from the lake brushing against the skin like a soft kiss. Laughter rises from the open bar, mingling with the clinking of glasses and the soft murmur of conversation. The light is honeyed, slow — the kind that wraps itself around memories, preserving them in warmth and shimmer, like a pressed flower between the pages of a well-loved book.

You’re dancing.

Barefoot now — your heels long since abandoned under the table — you move slowly in William’s arms, your wedding dress whispering around your legs with every step. His hands are gentle at your waist, your palms resting over the slow thrum of his heartbeat beneath the crisp collar of his shirt. His jacket is off, tie loose, hair a little messy. And still, he’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

The world fades. It’s just him, you, and the music curling softly through the late summer air.

And you can’t stop smiling.

You let your eyes sweep across the crowd — the blur of people clapping, slow-dancing, talking over champagne and cake. Familiar faces beam back at you. Jack is on the dance floor, leaning in a little too close to one of William's cousins, flashing a grin that says I’m about to charm you out of your penties — and she’s laughing, probably rolling her eyes, but clearly amused. Quinn, a little too tipsy, is dancing with your mom like he's auditioning for Dancing with the Stars, spinning her around with moves you didn’t know he had. Your mom's laughing, loving every second, teasing him about how he's killing it. Meanwhile, Luke’s found Banksy. The two of them are tucked in a corner, and you swear Luke’s sneaking him bites of something he shouldn’t be eating — probably pastry crumbs. Banksy looks up at him, wide-eyed, like he’s in on the secret. Luke’s giving him a soft smile, whispering to the dog like they’re plotting something together. It’s one of those moments that makes you laugh because Luke’s too pure for his own good.

And then there’s William’s side — Michael, laughing over drinks with your father like they’ve known each other forever, probably arguing over hockey plays and statistics. Catherine, poised and glowing in a soft sea-blue dress, watches you both with misty eyes and a smile that says she always knew her boy would find this kind of love.

His sisters — Michelle, Jacqueline, Stephanie, and little Ella — are huddled near the dance floor, swaying and giggling, clutching glasses of something sparkling and non-alcoholic for the youngest. Ella looks especially radiant. She's grown so much, but you still remember the quiet, sweet girl who lived with you and William for a while, who left tiny mugs half full of tea all over the apartment and asked you questions about plants like you were a walking encyclopedia. She studies in Toronto now, living in her own dorm, but she never stopped feeling like your little shadow. Your heart squeezes at the thought.

And then there’s Alex — standing near the dessert table, deep in conversation with Auston and Mitch, probably trying to talk them into some ridiculous offseason challenge. He loves those. He was your temporary roommate, too — shared takeout dinners and hockey talk on the balcony, late-night dishwasher debates and all. He winks when he catches you looking and lifts his glass in a silent, smiling toast.

It hits you slowly — not like a wave, but like sunlight through a window. Quiet. Warm. Certain.

This is your life now.

Not just his, not just yours — but something you built together. Layer by layer. A life that started on a quiet porch, with a kiss under the stars when you were seventeen and trembling and unsure. A kiss that said, I see you. A promise he never stopped keeping.

When William moved out to play for the Marlies, it wasn’t far — just across the city, but it felt like the start of something new for both of you. A few months later, you started your degree in Environmental Science at the University of Toronto, throwing yourself into early mornings and long lectures, lab reports and field work. Your days were full of discovery; your nights, often spent curled up in his apartment, surrounded by textbooks and half-eaten takeout, with him brewing you tea and soft music humming low in the background. He never made you feel like you were chasing your dreams alone. He was there — not just beside you, but behind you, making space for your ambition and cheering it on like it was his own.

Then came the day your family packed up and moved back to Michigan. You still remember standing in the driveway, watching them go, feeling a crack form right in the center of your chest. But your parents saw it — the way William looked at you like you were the only thing that made sense in the world. The way you spoke about your classes, your city, your life here. You had already started putting down roots.

And somehow, they understood.

You stayed behind.

Not out of rebellion. Not out of stubbornness. But because your heart had already chosen a home. And he was here.

So, you and William moved in together — and he made good on another promise. Just a few months later, Pablo came bounding into your life. Curly-haired, floppy-eared, endlessly sweet. He slept at the foot of your bed and carried around his stuffed pig like it was his life’s purpose. A year later, chaos arrived in the form of Banksy — pure mischief and boundless energy, a lovable menace with paws too big for his body.

Somehow, the two of you built a life — dogs and houseplants and a garden that spilled from the balcony like your own little jungle. William, who kissed you every morning like it was the first time. William, who never once made you feel like you were orbiting his world — because you had created one together.

And then, 2019 arrived. It was Christmas Eve — your favorite night of the year. Lights strung across the living room, cinnamon in the air, your mom crying before anything had even happened — you swear she knew. William cleared his throat and then — of course — launched into a speech. Classic Willy: heartfelt, a little cocky, and so completely sincere it made your knees weak.

He turned to Jim first, asked for his blessing like a man raised right. And Jim — naturally — acted all serious and intimidating… before pulling William into a hug so hard you thought he might break a rib. Your mom sobbed so intensely she forgot to record the moment — something she still brings up every single Christmas, like it’s your fault she was too busy crying to press the red button.

Jack wasted no time. “Biggest simp I’ve ever seen,” he declared loudly, shaking his head, but grinning so sweetly at you. 

Quinn just smiled. Then, without a word, hugged William like he was his own brother. When he finally pulled back, he said, “It always felt like you were part of this family… but now it’s official.” You think William nearly cried at that part, though he’ll never admit it.

And Luke — sweet, sentimental Luke — tried to play it cool. But the moment the ring box opened, his chin wobbled. He stood up clapping and wiping his face with his sleeve at the same time. Of course, Jack immediately took a picture of Luke crying and has printed it every year since to hang as an ornament on the tree. “The emotional support elf,” he calls it.

That was the moment everything shifted — not just for you and William, but for all of them, too.

They saw what he meant to you. What you meant to each other.

And now, here you are.

Married. His wife. Barefoot under a Toronto August sky, the sun sinking low over the lake, the air thick with roses and summer and laughter.

And through all of it, William watches you like he still can’t believe you’re real. Like he’s still that boy on the porch, blinking stars out of his eyes, wondering how the hell he got lucky enough to end up here — with you.

“You okay?” William murmurs against your temple, his breath warm, his lips brushing your skin.

You nod, your voice thick with emotion. “Better than okay.”

His fingers shift slightly at your waist, pulling you just a bit closer. “You were worth every second of waiting.”

You tilt your head up, meeting his gaze. “You kept every promise.”

He grins, that soft, crooked smile that undid you back then — that still undoes you now. “Told you I’m a romantic.”

“Yes, you are. I’m a pretty lucky lady,” you tease, eyes glinting.

His hand brushes along your spine, and suddenly, you’re both laughing quietly, breathing each other in. It’s strange, really — how something can feel brand new and completely familiar all at once. How love, real love, doesn’t feel like butterflies. It feels like sunlight — constant and warm and always finding its way back to you.

A microphone crackles, and then a voice rings out — someone from the band, smiling into the mic.

“Alright, everyone, if we could have your attention—our bride and groom are about to head out for their honeymoon! Let’s give them all the love they deserve!”

The room erupts in cheers, whistles and applause. Champagne is lifted. Glasses clink. You blink back the sudden blur in your eyes as William leans down to whisper against your ear:

“You ready to go, Mrs. Nylander?”

You laugh — a bubbling, joy-soaked sound as you nod. “With you? Always.”

And as you walk hand in hand through the crowd, showered in petals and love and laughter, you look back once — just once — at the people who built you, held you, shaped this life. And then you look forward.

—

The doors of the car close behind you with a soft thud, and suddenly, the world feels quieter. The buzz of the reception is replaced by the sound of the engine, the warm night air drifting in through the cracked window. William’s hand finds yours, his fingers intertwining with yours in the way they always do — familiar, steady, grounding you.

He starts the car, and as you pull away from the venue, the streets of Toronto slipping by in a blur, you glance over at him. His eyes are still full of that joy, that soft, warm look that has been there since the moment he slipped the ring on your finger. There’s a relaxed, almost goofy grin on his face, the kind that only comes after a long, perfect day.

You turn the radio dial, and suddenly, the opening chords of “Take Me Home, Country Roads” fill the car. It’s the very song you and your brother used to sing at the top of your lungs on long summer road trips. A surge of excitement hits you, and you can’t help but start belting it out, loud and carefree, your voice rising with every word.

“Almost heaven, West Virginia…”

William glances over, his eyebrows lifting in mock horror. “Oh, no,” he laughs, shaking his head. “Not this song.”

You don’t stop. “Blue Ridge Mountains, Shenandoah River…” Your voice is full of energy, all the joy and excitement of the day flooding out of you in the form of music.

William laughs beside you, one hand on the wheel, his hair still a little messy from the dancing. “You’re unbelievable,” he says, grinning. “I marry you and now I’m stuck with a country music soundtrack for life.”

“Oh, come on, it’s a classic!” you tease, singing louder, not even trying to stay on key anymore. “You just don’t get it.”

William gives a dramatic sigh, shaking his head with a grin. “No, I definitely don’t. I never understood how anyone could love country music this much.”

You laugh, rolling your eyes playfully. “Take me home, country roads…” you sing, your voice rising with the chorus, throwing your head back as you belt it out, carefree and happy.

He watches you for a moment, shaking his head but clearly entertained. “Okay, okay,” he finally says, the teasing in his voice softening. “I get it, you’re killing it. But I still don’t get the appeal.”

You grin, leaning over to nudge him playfully. “You’ll come around one day,” you tease, eyes sparkling.

The song continues, and you sing your heart out, your joy filling the car. It feels right — this moment, this life, this love — everything wrapped up in the sound of a song that’s been a part of you forever.

William starts laughing softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners as you hit the high notes with all the conviction of a true country fan. “I don’t know how you do it,” he says, still chuckling.

You’re lost in the song now, the road stretching ahead of you, the glow from the dashboard casting a soft light on William’s face. His focus is on the road, but every so often, his smile flickers as he glances at you.

You throw your head back, still singing — louder now, on purpose. “To the place I belong…”

He shakes his head, but he’s smiling.

Then it happens.

A flash of headlights.

A horn blares.

The scream of tires on pavement.

Metal.

The impact slams through you like a punch. Your body jerks, flung forward and snapped back by the seatbelt. The airbag explodes, the sound impossibly loud — like a bomb detonating in your ears.

You can’t see.

You can’t breathe.

You hear glass shatter, the car twisting, spinning — and then stillness.

Pain hits you all at once, hot and sharp — blooming in your ribs, your shoulder, your head. Your vision sways like a curtain of water. You try to move, try to sit up, to find William, but your limbs feel heavy, unreachable.

You hear him.

Faint, but frantic.

“Elise—”

You try to answer. Your lips part, but nothing comes out. You want to reach for him. You want to tell him you’re okay, or ask if he is — but everything is fog.

His voice grows sharper, full of panic.

“Elise! Elise, stay with me! Please—”

You try. God, you try.

But the pain grows thick and distant, your head lolling as the dark swallows the edges of your sight. The world fades — his voice, the night, the music — all pulling away like waves retreating from shore.

And then—

Nothing.

Just black.

[mr2swap]

The great shift: a stinking symbiotic relationship

I came home empty-handed, I hadn't even been able to get a job as a cashier at McDonald's, but I can't blame them who would hire an overweight middle-aged man like me... A lot of things are different since the Great Shift, but I guess that some things remain the same, I opened the door to my apartment and the first thing I looked at was my old body sitting on the couch with an annoyed look.

-Dude, What the fuck? You were supposed to be here 35 minutes ago, my phone is blowing up with messages on our subscribers! You know them, they can't wait a minute for any of this! -

Gary Muller, my roommate and my “business partner,” flexed one of his enormous biceps until the shirt that covered the muscular and perfect body that used to belong to me almost burst, then with one of his long fingers he pointed to one of his armpits that for a moment They were dry.

Gary took off his shirt, revealing the body he used to look at every day in the mirror, grabbed a pair of dumbbells that were on the floor and started working out for our afternoon show.

-Yeah... I'm sorry, I went to a couple of job interviews, and they went a little longer than I thought, just... let me change while you train a little-

He just ignored me and went about his business while I walked into our apartment. I had heard that many people ended up in bodies thousands of miles away because of the Great Shift, but me and Gary living next to each other was a strange coincidence.

I didn't know anything about Gary before all this. Furthermore, I only considered him as the old man who lived next to me, sometimes in the mornings while my uncle went to the gym I could see him leaving the building, dressed in a cheap suit and heading to his office job. It was a surprise for me, One day I woke up in his apartment with his old body.

 The Real Gary was as surprised as I was, the first time I saw my old body from Gary's perspective I was speechless, there was an expression of confusion on that beautiful, symmetrically perfect face, the long, muscular arms of which I used to be so proud now they were in someone else's possession, but the worst of all was how short I was now. The height difference between us was enormous, while I was almost two meters tall Gary was 1.50 CM Even some children They are taller than me now.

But over time I got used to Gary's horrible old body... every day I prayed to get my old life back, but every day I woke up with horrible back pain and with a face older than my father's, perhaps the most strange now is the hair, Gary started going bald since high school and when he turned 30 he decided to shave all his hair, Gary's bathroom was full of hair growth products that hadn't worked for years.

And while I was suffering from trying not to adapt to the life of a 48-year-old, the real Gary was enjoying his new youth and his new muscular body. I learned that people treat you very differently when you look like a damn stud instead of a wrinkled Troll.

He could hear through the walls like the real home, and he had fun with my body and with all the boys I brought to my old apartment every night, I had never realized how thin the walls were in this building Until for the first time I heard the powerful moans of my old voice at the same time that Gary used my cock to fornicate another man.

Time passed and society continued on its path, for me, it was surprisingly fast how the government recovered from all this. But there was only one problem, there were a lot of unemployed people everywhere, and among all of them was me.

I used to work at the local gym as a trainer, but with this body that had never been in a gym in its entire life, I was quickly fired. On the other hand, Gary's company went bankrupt when most of the investors ended up in young bodies And they decided to sell the company.

As the days went by, Gary and I became somewhat of friends, I helped him with exercise routines and taught him about the nutrition My body needed, We decided that it would be much cheaper for both of us to live together while all this was resolved, And I returned to my old apartment, but I felt like a stranger among my own things. I settled in the smallest room surrounded by my training equipment that was totally useless to me now, everything was too heavy.

Living with Gary was certainly better than living on the street, But every day it made me reconsider if that was true, Unsuccessfully I tried to get a damn job, so I could get out of that apartment and start my life over in Gary's weak old body. I felt like a parasite even with Gary, he paid the rent and all the house services.

On top of that, he used to party every night and hang out with his new gym friends during the day, it was a total mystery to me how he made so much money... until I started receiving some strange messages on my old Instagram account. .

“Hey buddy, was this your body?”

“Dude, are you DaddyGary?”

“Damn, you had such a hot body… I always knew what was under those shorts, you didn't disappoint me.”

It wasn't hard to realize that Gary had been making his filthy armpit fetish porn for those desperate gays. I felt so dirty watching the videos of my old body worshiping his sweaty armpits after the gym.

I immediately confronted Gary about it, and surprisingly he admitted it very quickly. He didn't seem embarrassed, or sorry for doing it, I could even notice a slight mocking smile on his face as I told him how humiliated I felt while a bunch of perverted men masturbated with my stinky armpits.

It was at that moment when those words from Gary sealed the destiny I am living in now.

-Those “disgusting” things like you call them are what pay the rent for this place and keep your old ass from sleeping in some dumpster. And if you want to continue sleeping in your comfortable bed, it's time for you to start contributing a little money, and I know how you can do it... Come here -

He flexed both arms showing his armpits, I was surprised to see that he had recently shaved his armpits, eliminating all the wild hair that I previously kept in my sweaty pits, I... I couldn't control myself, I don't think he's homosexual, but the powerful musk of my old armpits made me react like a bee to honey.

Gary took his phone and started recording me while he worshiped his wet armpits with my tongue.

-You like it, right?… “Gary” Do you like the taste of your old body? Can you believe this used to be me? Damn, You really are pathetic, “Gary” -

It had been several days since I had ejaculated, I had thought Gary's body had erectile dysfunction or something, but at that moment my little cock was hard as a rock and hot as hell. I had never felt this way, my head was completely clouded by the addictive testosterone filled aroma of my old armpits.

-Look friends, “Gary” is jerking off, it seems like he still misses his old body... Maybe we should let him play with him another time...-

Hello, if you liked this story and you want more, you can take a look at my Ko-Fi page to see my most recent stories, see my new stories and support me to continue creating this hot content.

[sweetdispatch]

Like a bitch - J. Hughes

Purple Chemistry timeline: June 2023 - September 2023 summary: Jack was keeping distance between you two but still was showing up for sex on which you agreed warning: NSFW, graphic sex (18+), arguments, swear words note: happy 2025!

It was summer time. You knew that Jack is not in New Jersey but back at home in Michigan. You felt better knowing that he’s not around and won’t show up at your place just to have sex with you. You agreed on the deal but deep down, you didn’t want it. You wanted to have him back as a friend and discover your feelings towards him. 

Since the last time you saw Jack, you two haven’t spoken. He made it loud and clear that he needs you only for his release. You understood it because you broke his trust but still, you were bitter that he saw only sex in you, despite the cute moments you two shared. You held your tongue and decided to act like he wants. He held all the cards. 

You were mad that the conversation ended up this way and regretted the need to explain to him why you hadn’t told him about being a Rangers fan. You made the bed and now, you have to lay in it. You really wanted to call Jack and try to talk him through but you knew it was pointless.

Jack was still pissed at you. He couldn’t stand the fact that you lied to his face about everything. He was questioning if anything you two had was real or it was your act. In summer, he tried not to bother his head with the thoughts but it was difficult. He really liked you but for him, it looked like you acted just to impress him. 

That’s why, Jack decided not to speak to you the months he was in Michigan. He tried to collect his thoughts about what your relationship is gonna look like. When he left your apartment, he regretted saying that you two can just stay fuck buddies. He enjoyed having sex with you but he wished you two were more than this. 

At the beginning of September, Jack returned to New Jersey to start preparation for the upcoming season. You knew he was back in town and started feeling anxious. As much as you wanted to see him, you felt that it might hurt you. You tried not to bother your head with this and focus on other things but it wasn’t the easiest task.

It was a quiet Friday night. Your friends went out to a party but you were too tired after work to go with them. Instead you stayed at home and turned on your favorite tv show. You grabbed a bottle of wine from the cabinet and poured yourself a glass. You took a sip and the taste of the alcohol on your tongue felt like a reward. 

In the middle of the episode, you heard a ring bell. You looked at your phone to see that the clock shows 10 PM. You were confused because you didn’t expect anyone to pay you a visit that late. At first, you wanted to ignore it but then you heard the bell again. You groaned and stood up to open the door. To your surprise, it was Jack right in front of you.

“What are you doing here?” You asked him and let him enter your apartment. 

“I just wanted to spend time with you” He said and went into your living room. “Looks like you’re having fun” He pointed at the wine standing on your coffee table.

“Yeah and you’re interrupting me” You crossed your arms. 

“I thought you might want to have company” He joked.

“Seriously? You ignored me for the last few months and now you want to spend time with me?” You wanted to laugh hearing his words but decided to stay quiet.

“Okay, you got me. I need a relief and that’s why I showed up here” 

“So you want sex?” He nodded. “You could at least tell me this earlier, I didn’t shave” 

“I don’t care. All I need is your tight pussy around my dick” You blushed hearing those words. “So what do you think?” 

You haven’t responded to his question. Instead you closed the gap between you two and kissed him. Immediately, Jack grabbed your thighs and picked you up. He walked into your bedroom and put you down. You broke the kiss and started undressing yourself. He did the exact same thing. He pushed you on the bed and went to grab a condom from your nightstand, where he left them last time. 

Jack spread your legs and hung them around his waist. Slowly, he entered you and you threw your head from the pleasure. This gave him access to your neck. He started kissing and biting your neck and collarbone. You went with your hands into his hair and pulled them slightly. He was thrusting into you faster with each move. You were moaning at the feeling of him inside of you. 

You missed having sex with him and you were glad he’s taking it easy on you. Jack kissed your lips and bit your bottom lip. You grabbed his shoulder when he started hitting your spot. You felt that you’re not gonna last long. He felt that too when you started clenching around him. His dick started throbbing inside of you and you felt that he reached his high. You were undone but he quickly placed his hand on your clit to help you cum. You moaned loudly and your orgasm went through your body. 

Jack pulled out of you and went to throw away the condom. You were laying on your bed when you saw that he was putting his clothes back on. 

“You’re not staying the night?” You asked him. 

“No, I’ve got what I came for” He answered while zipping his pants.

“So I basically became your sex doll” You said and he looked at you. 

“You agreed on that, remember? If you don’t want to, we can stop and forget about each other” He shrugged but deep down, the thought of you cutting him off his life hurt him. 

“It’s fine” You stood up and went into the bathroom. “You know where the doors are”

Days went by and you started to accept the fact that Jack sees in you only sex. As much as you wanted to repair the damage you’ve done, he didn’t let you. You didn’t know that he’s doing this for his safety and not wanting to be hurt by you again. You two met up a couple more times this month for hookups until the preseason games started and he became busier.

For an irony that the New Jersey Devils played two games against the New York Rangers in preseason. You watched both games from home and you felt terrible seeing your team lost these two matches. You were telling yourself that these are only preseason games and they don’t mean anything but because of the rivalry, it still bugged you. What annoyed you even more was the fact that Jack scored three points in those two games.

Day after the second match, Jack showed up at your apartment. He did this on purpose to laugh at you about the two lost. Whole day you weren’t in a mood and the last thing you needed was to see his face. Nevertheless, you let him into your place. 

“Great two wins. I think I deserve a reward” He joked.

“In your dreams Hughes, I’m mad at you” 

“Oh c’mon. Not my fault Rangers suck” He looked at you.

“You know who really sucks? You. You showing up here and expecting me to be at your beck and call” You fought back. 

“What’s gotten into you?” He asked you irritatedly and you rolled your eyes. 

“Oh, so now you care” You huffed. 

“Yeah, whatever. I’m out. I thought we can have a nice evening but you prefer to act like a bitch” 

“Fine!” You said a little louder than you wanted. He looked surprised at your outburst. 

Jack didn’t say anything, just left you. You sighed. The whole day went from bad to even worse. The last thing you needed was a pointless argument with him, especially when you two started becoming comfortable with each other again. You decided to go and take a shower and went straight into bed. You wanted to forget about this day. 

It took you a couple days to apologise to Jack for your reaction. You wanted to have him by your side, no matter how much he was getting on your nerves. He accepted your apologies but you felt that he’s starting to put distance again. You two weren’t seeing each other. You tried to explain to yourself that he’s been busy with the season that started but you weren’t sure of that. 

Next Chapter

[ilyasorokinn]

surprise ― pyotr kochetkov

note, i. was inspired by this post. i know nothing about tennis, so i'm sorry i don't understand the niche, but i was inspired and remember when p shaved his head? truly awful. this is the post for reference. another note, i made a little blurb not too long ago where, instead of putting the actual russian translation in the fic, i put the parts where they would be speaking russian in italics, so that's what i'm doing here as well. here's the blurb if you haven't seen it :) summary, y/n finds out her boyfriend shaved her head through social media. warnings, pyotr's shaved head word count, 461 words

you let out a sigh as you got into your car. it had been a long, but exciting, off-season, and you were excited to be back with raleigh, but you were completely out of food for a good 2 days and had been solely relying on doordash.

while you got to try new restaurants every meal, it was also a costly bill, so you were excited to finally have groceries. you reached for your phone and finally decided to check your notifications.

your eyes widened when you saw all the Instagram notifications and group chat notifications. you tried to decide where to start first, but ended up opening every app you had a notification coming from.

you ended up on instagram and opening a dm from some random person who had sent you a new picture of your boyfriend with a fan. the fan wasn't surprising, it was your boyfriend in the picture, hairless.

"oh, my god," you muttered, closing the app and immediately calling him.

"hello?" he answered.

"what the hell?" you gaped, "what happened to letting your girlfriend know when you're gonna go all eminem and shave your head?!"

"i'm sorry." to his credit, he did sound remorseful about it, "it was spur the moment."

"you said you were gonna get a haircut, not buzz it off." you pinched the bridge of your nose.

"i was, but then i was convinced to buzz it."

"i'm coming home now, you better be there," you told him. you hung up, giving him no time to argue with you, and immediately turned your car on.

you got home quicker than you thought you would and quickly grabbed the groceries and made your way up to your apartment. you opened the door and quickly made your way inside.

"where are you?!" you shouted, dropping the groceries on the counter and all your other stuff on the floor. you rushed around the apartment and were about to turn into the bedroom when he showed up in the doorway.

"pyotr..." you gaped at his hairless head. you reached up and ran a hand through his hair.

"what do you think?" he looked nervous.

"all right, i know i sounded mad on the phone, but it was just a lot to take in." you took a step back and just stared at him, "it does look nice." you smiled.

"you think?" he looked nervous.

"all right, i'm sorry my first reaction wasn't happy, but you look great, p." you reached up and wrapped your arms around his neck, "i think you look great no matter what. i'm a bit biased though." you shrugged.

"okay," he looked a little more confident, "you promise?"

"promise." you nodded, holding out your pinky. he smiled, linking his finger with yours.

-

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[archangeldyke-all]

Hey ! It's my first request ever, so I'm not sure how it work. If you're not confortable with it, feel free to don't respond. I'm kinda obsess with an AMAB Sevika, can you write reader discovering a surprise pregnancy with a sex friend/flirt/crush Sevika ?

I like the way you make her express her feelings, it's pretty accurate with Arcane. Feel free for them to keep the baby or not. Thank you so much and thank you for your work. ^^

sure!!! i got another very similar request too so i'll combine them :)

Amab sevika really be curing my depression

Maybe reader and vika are married and trying for a baby? 🥺🥺 amab sevika is my beloved and I'd die for her

men and minors dni

you guys have been trying to get pregnant for about six months now.

a lot of it's been fun. flipping through baby books together in bed, sending each other videos of cute babies on social media, and the actual baby making process is a blast.

but some of it's hard.

sevika's stopped taking her estrogen to get her sperm count back up. as a result, she's been horribly dysphoric.

you've caught her crying several times, standing in front of the mirror with a pair of tweezers in her hands, her chest irritated from the plucking and picking she'd done. she's become obsessive in shaving her face, doing it two or three times a day. her metabolism's gotten faster without the estrogen, and the 20 or so pounds of extra padding she'd put on her thighs and hips since she started e years ago is starting to fade away.

you try your best to make her feel better, insist that you guys could always try ivf instead, but she's determined to do it 'the old fashioned way.' so, you just hold her when her dysphoria takes hold, pressing kisses to her hair, reminding her you'd love her with a full beard just as much as you love her now.

it's been hard on you too. the more time that goes by without a successful pregnancy, the more you feel like your body's betraying you.

how many times did you and sevika have a pregnancy scare at the beginning of your relationship, before you were ready for kids? hundreds. but now that you're actively trying, your period is as regular as it can possibly be.

you've decided that if you go another month without any success, you're going to throw in the towel and ask your obgyn about ivf. you can't take much more disappointment, and you don't like seeing sevika so depressed all the time.

but then, something happens.

it starts with your tits getting sore.

for a week straight, they're tender to the touch, sore by the end of the night when you take your bra off. you know it's one of the earliest signs of pregnancy, but you don't say anything, not wanting to get your hopes up.

but then you start getting sick in the mornings. you can't hide this from sev, and she's squirming with excitement beside you as she rubs your back while you spew your guts into the toilet below.

"this is amazing." she says, giddy. you groan.

"real amazing sev, i'm feeling great." you say sarcastically. she giggles and presses a kiss to your head.

"i'm sorry, honey." she whispers. you giggle and reach out to hold her hand as another bout of nausea overtakes you.

your period is a day late.

and then two.

you know this. you know sevika knows this. but neither of you say anything, too scared to jinx it.

but when two days becomes three, and then three becomes a full week, you start getting excited.

you don't tell sevika you buy a pregnancy test-- not wanting to disappoint her if it's negative. but you do buy one, and you take it an hour before sevika's meant to get home.

it's positive. you nearly pass out from excitement.

sevika comes home to dinner on the table and flowers in the kitchen.

you sit on her lap the second she sits down, swinging your arms around her shoulders.

she's smiling like she already knows, but she's biting her lip-- worried that she's wrong.

"i got two surprises for you." you say.

"two?!" she asks, her hands clawing into your hips. you smile.

"two." you say, nodding.

you reveal the syringe full of her estrogen to her, raising your eyebrows at her. she blinks.

"what's that?" she asks. you laugh.

"'s only been a few months sev, y' already forgot what your e looks like?" you tease her. she blinks and gulps as you wipe a cool alcohol wipe over her bicep, pinching the skin and bringing the needle up to her arm. you smile at her.

"but what about--"

"don't ruin the second surprise." you scold her as you inject the needle into her muscle, pushing her hormones in and watching as her eyes go wide and sparkly.

she doesn't even notice the sting of the needle-- she's usually such a wimp about it, but tonight, she's got all her attention focused on you.

"does that mean-- are you--"

"pregnant?" you ask as you gently place a bandaid over the tiny puncture wound. sevika's breath catches in her throat and her eyes get watery. you place a kiss on top of the bandage, keeping your eyes locked on hers. sevika's breathing is shaky, tears already streaming down her cheeks. you lean up to kiss them up. "you're gonna be a momma, sev." you whisper against her cheek.

at the words, sevika bolts out of her chair, holding you in her arms and running you to the bedroom. you laugh the whole way.

sevika slams you (gently) down onto the bed before jumping on top of you. one of her hands goes to hold your stomach, the other comes up to cup your cheek.

"are you serious?!" she whispers. you smile and nod, your own tears welling in your eyes.

"took three tests. all positive." you say. sevika whimpers, then swoops down to kiss you.

she fucks you like she's trying to get you pregnant again.

and then, when you're done and she's holding you in your arms, her hand still on your stomach, the both of you catching your breaths, the first thing she says is, "what do you think about athena as a girls name?"

"goddess of war!?" you ask, laughing. "absolutely not. i'm not dealing with another little fighter in the house." you say. sevika giggles.

"but it's badass! nobody'd fuck with her." she says, pouting at you. you laugh. sevika gasps. "she just kicked!" she says, pointing at your belly. you laugh even harder. "she loves it! we have to name her athena now!" she says, teasing.

you groan and push her face away as she chuckles. "you're fuckin' ridiculous." you say between your giggles. sevika grins.

"i love you so much." she whispers, tears forming in her eyes again. your laughter ceases, a sweet watery smile taking its place.

"i love you too." you whisper.

sevika grins and swoops down to kiss your stomach.

"love you too, little fucker." she whispers to your belly.

taglist!

@lesbeaniegreenie @fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

[lolly-in-a-strange-land]

♡One shot♡

Sunshine considered herself to be perceptive, especially when it came to her boyfriend. Lately, he'd been a bit distant, sometimes snappy.

Tool had ventured back into the studio and the process was apparently stressing Maynard out. Sunshine desperately missed spending time with him and her plan was to surprise him when he returned home. She'd purchased lingerie and shaved and applied peach body cream. She sniffed her arm and realised she might smell like a farmers market.

When he returned at half six, looking tired and still stressed, she jumped up and rushed over.

"Hey, welcome home," She said. "I missed you."

"Missed you too." He replied, and breezed past her and sat on the couch.

Not a problem. She walked over and decided to be a lot more forward than she usually was. For all her cheerfulness, she'd never been particularly forward at initiating intimacy. She straddled him and smiled. Her plan was to undo her dressing gown in a sultry manner to reveal the lingerie.

"Not that I don't appreciate you being all over me, Sunshine, but I'm not really feeling it tonight." Maynard said.

"Oh, it's just we haven't been very affectionate recently." She replied.

"Unless you failed to notice, I've been very busy." He said.

"No, I noticed and I've been supportive." She said.

She had been very supportive. She'd make breakfast for them both, keep the apartment clean and the other day she'd ordered him lunch to be sent to the studio.

"And you think this is helping?" He asked.

"I was just trying to be supportive," She protested. "You're being mean to me."

"I've been dealing with a lot of shit today, Sara," He snapped. And she flinched. Very rarely did he call her by her given name. "The last thing I want, or need is you getting up my ass about stuff."

She shifted and suddenly felt deeply hurt. She slid off his lap and looked at her hands again. She'd envisioned playful teasing and eventual intimacy, not a fight.

"I just missed you, is all." She whispered.

She got up and rushed away. He sighed and leaned his head back on the couch. That did not go well. The anger at the label and the sudden change in deadline had leaked out, infecting his emotions towards her.

Maynard glanced at the coffee table in front of him. She'd selected some films, and there was a bowl of chips on the table that Litten was eying up. Apparently she'd planned for a romantic night and he'd just ruined it. A small piece of paper was sat on the table too. He picked it up. It was from a boutique in the mall. Apparently Sunshine had gone out and purchased lingerie. Any anger was replaced by guilt, but he was too stubborn to follow her and apologise.

However, the argument festered in the apartment and she was despondent the following day. This just served to annoy him more. Instead of talking about it, she was ignoring it. The whole aggravation was complied by the fact she was wearing the cutest dress ever. It was cherry printed with a sweet heart neckline and thin straps.

It was a tease of a dress and when she leaned over the breakfast bar to grab something, it hiked up enticingly. She was still despondent, just wiping down the breakfast bar.

The urge for closeness rose and she startled when he stepped behind her.

"Hey, what are you.." She started to ask.

Her words were cut off by him biting her shoulder and making her gasp. She arched into the touch though, pressing herself to him.

She yelped a little when he pushed her to bend over the counter, pulling her ass back and pushing the dress up. Her voice was soft and pleading.

"James, please, please." She whimpered.

"Shut the fuck up," He snapped. "Unless you're moaning my name, shut the fuck up."

Her panties came off and she squealed when he knelt down, burying his face and dragging his tongue up her folds. She spread her legs for him and he took that as enthusiastic consent. She was soaked. The need was amplified by how their relationship had been lately.

He devoured her, practically making out with her core. Sunshine, for her part, was gripping the counter top and making the hottest noises he'd ever heard, part wail, part moan. Her hips were grinding against his face, humping desperately.

"I'm gonna cum, James." She whined.

It was all she could think to say aside from the garbled moans. Maynard, felt for the first time in weeks, that rush of closeness with her again. He'd missed her too. She shuddered and he pulled back. Her orgasm ebbed away and she exhaled a disappointed whine.

He wiped his mouth with his palm. She tasted amazing, but then she always did. He stood up, unzipping his jeans and moving them and his boxers down just enough to free himself.

He gripped her hips and pushed into her slowly. She made another desperate, sobbing noise, tossing her head back as he filled her. She pushed back against him, needing more.

He groaned and the floodgates opened. There was no gentleness, only that need that had built for weeks. She didn't seem to care though. He took her roughly with harsh snaps of his hips and she pushed back against him, impaling herself.

"O-oh my God....feels so good." She moaned.

Forming actual words wasn't in his repertoire at the moment, all that mattered was the pleasure. And it was intense. One of his hands grabbed her hair, yanking her head back. The other slid down, finding her clit.

Sunshine squealed his name again and he felt her flutter around him. She was definitely enjoying this. She'd always seemed delicate and their intimacy had always been fairly gentle, but it felt like he'd unlocked something amazing.

"G-gonna cum," She moaned. "J-james, please let me, please."

"Cum for me." He groaned.

And she did, shuddering and moaning. Her hips spasmed against him and she bucked herself against him. The moan of his name was filled with relief and need. Maynard groaned too and he only lasted a few more thrusts before he followed.

There was a moment of silence punctuated only by their heavy breathing. She peeked at him over her shoulder and she looked hesitant. It was easy to forget during intimacy that they'd fought yesterday. He'd snapped at her and she was clearly still hurt from it. Sex wouldn't fix it. She looked away and he didn't want the moment to be ruined by his stubbornness.

"Sunshine, hey," He murmured. "Don't look away. I'm sorry. So fucking sorry."

He leaned over her, kissing her shoulder where he'd bit her. She peeked at him again.

"You were mad at me?" She whispered.

"Not at you, never at you." Maynard said.

"I'm sorry I annoyed you. I just missed you." She replied.

Her eyes welled with tears and the urge to make it up to her became more important, more important than the album, the label and all the things that still needed doing.

He slid out of her and she stood back up to her full height. She turned and hesitated and he hugged her. She rested her head against his chest and it felt amazing to hug her.

"You didn't annoy me. I was angry about the new deadline for the album and I took it out on you. And I am sorry, Sunshine." He said, softly.

Standing in the kitchen, rumpled and with their clothes in disarray didn't matter. She nodded against his chest.

"I planned for us to watch movies last night." She whispered.

"I saw the popcorn and chips, saw the receipt from the boutique in town." He said.

"Yeah, I got lingerie." She said.

He sighed. If he hadn't been such an asshole, then last night they could have watched terrible movies and eaten popcorn and it would have led to intimacy.

"Can I see you in it, please?" Maynard asked.

"Will you let me do the other stuff I had planned?" She asked.

"Yeah, I could watch some terrible films with you, Sunshine." He replied.

"The popcorn I got is cheese flavored." She said.

"How appropriate." He laughed.

She giggled against his chest and the awkwardness melted away as they left the kitchen and curled up on the couch together. The album could wait another day.

[al-the-remix]

counting backwards 🥵

This one is still giving me a headache because I just want to exorcise all my feeling on the topic into this one fic so I can be done with them and move onto more fun horny subjects instead of lingering on the same like three emotionally fraught horny subjects that have been circling my mind recently 😂

The fic's from Buck's perspective, and due to [enter catalyst here] he's reflecting on his past relationships and interactions with other men, how violence and physicality is (almost) always sort of a corner stone. Also, on the kink discovery side of things, how different kink/fetish related acts can be a form of self care. Like maybe you wont go out to get a facial or a manicure or get your hair cut, but you'll let your boy friend polish your boots, or shave you, or give you the other kind of facial in the privacy of your own home.

Meanwhile Tommy's reflecting on some army related stuff that recently got brought back up to the surface, and is still not feeling like a good person all the time, and then maybe some cnc stuff that I haven't decided how hard to push the pedal on yet. But there will be role play.

I don't know what to share snippet wise for this one because I keep changing things 💀 so I'm just going to share porn lol

nsfw under the cut

Dawn’s still further away than Buck hoped when he checks the digital clock on his side table. 

It feels like he's been awake way longer than half an hour, hot and restless, flipping back and forth trying to get comfortable. His skin buzzing dully, the king size bed feels both like an ocean and a narrow stream. He’s about to give up and retreat to the living room when Tommy finds his hand and pulls it over to rest on his hip. He hadn’t even noticed Tommy’s breathing pick up.  His fingers are a cool balm against Buck’s clammy skin, instantly soothing. Buck takes it as the invitation it is, pushing into Tommy’s space rubbing his nose over the short hairs on the back of Tommy's neck and wrapping his arms around his waist so that he can plaster them together.  Buck’s body thrums happily despite the head. “Did I wake you?” he whispers into the bare nape of Tommy’s neck. “Yeah, but it's alright.”  Tommy’s voice is muzzy with sleep, hitting the register that slithers down Buck’s spine like the trickle of a stream. Tommy shifts against him, wedging his foot between Buck's ankles. As they lie togethers he rubs it in distracting strokes up the back of Buck’s calf. “Tommy–” “Shh, it's okay.” He pulls at Buck's hand so it slips over the crest of Tommy's hip, fingertips nudging at the waistband of his briefs. “Don't talk.” Buck doesn't need any more instruction than that, curving his arm further around Tommy’s belly, pulling the bulk of him back against his hips.  He presses his kisses into the warm valley of Tommy's neck, allowing his hands to roam overheated skin. Scatters exhaustion is suddenly replaced with hyper awareness, every touch feels underscored in the dark. Tommy moves easily when Buck rolls him onto his stomach. Buck's not even entirely sure he's fully awake, but he doesn't object when Buck works his underwear down his hips and slicks his cock up with the lube an arm's length away.  He presses kisses over the bridge of his shoulders, squeezes Tommy's biceps, and slots his cock into the warm valley of Tommy's ass, rolls his hips slow and shallow, setting a lazy pace. He tries to keep himself balanced on his elbows at first, but he slowly melts down against Tommy, skin slipping together just on the right side of uncomfortable. It feels like they're one body. Buck can feel it when Tommy's breath starts to come quicker. He tries to spread his legs, hips arching back against Buck’s in what little space there is between their bodies.  Where they touch, which is just about everywhere, is glued together in a thin sheen of sweat. It makes him shiver when he pulls away, lifting Tommy's hips up just enough to find his cock, hot and heavy in his hand.  He thumbs over the wet head, Tommy's always closer than he suspects by the amount of sound he makes, soft and involuntarily, and for the first time it clicks that maybe there's a greater reason for that. Maybe the quietness had been hard wired into him between living on the brink of death and fucking in abandoned shower stalls during air raids. Working with nothing more than a vague instinct and a whim, he wraps one hand over Tommy’s mouth, presses his lips to Tommy’s hot ear and whispers: “I thought we were supposed to be quiet?” He feels his words hit their target, ricocheting through Tommy's body, impact rippling across his skin. Stiffening, his cock twitching in Buck's hand, the sound Tommy breathes against his skin is muffled but it still feels like a smack across the face after the tense silence. He speeds up his strokes, the need to get Tommy off suddenly the top of Buck's priorities.  Tommy moans wet into the palm of his hand, breath coming in shallow heaves as Buck brings him to the edge and swiftly over it.  Buck hushes him as Tommy comes warm and generous into his hand.  He lets go of Tommy's mouth, wrapping his arms under his shoulders and ruts against him at a pace he knows will bring him over the edge quickly. “Fuck, fuck–” Tommy pants as Buck barrels towards his own orgasm, screwing his hips in tight circles against Tommy's soft ass until he comes. “Fuck,” Buck agrees as he pulls back.

[mortal-kombat-shitposts]

IRain x ftm medic reader “exorcise in getting along.”

@boomclowntown part one of three (part one of two of my rain posts please forgive me.)

Warning: light reiko x reader, angst, cannon type violence, rain wants a nap, Reiko can't stop poking the mage. Shao wants the reader gone for disrupting the peace. Slow burn. I don't know how to write 😵‍💫 ignore my love for shaos voice.

When they talk about leylines and how they can affect everything around them, I didn't believe them now I do, as I lay ass up head down in a strange unknown world with creatures straight out of a fantasy book. “Looks like willbert wasn't lying I'll be damned." I straighten up and try to get my bearings.

I walk around a little bit falling upon someone who is training, his body like fluid grace, standing 7 '6 maybe, deeper skin tone and build, the purples and yellows highlight the stark contrast from his hands to a… . Staff I think. I can't see his face from here but maybe he can help me out. So I approach him gently letting my training kick in. “Hello, sir can you help me? I seem to be lost.” I speak softly.

He jumps a little like he wasn't expecting someone this far out in the nothingness. “Who are you and how did you get here? " He asks back turning to look at me. His eyes like liquid honey encased in amber. With a matching mask to everything else. There was a hostility to his voice. “I'm darling, I'm an army medic. I got lost looking for my troop.” I say carefully. He just squints his eyes at me. “Mmm medic. You are in outworld, in the living forest." He explained still suspicious of me." And you are?” I prompt him, he huffs.

" I am Rain.” Okay so he seems nice. " Can you lead me out of here, I've never been in a forest never mind a living forest.” I joke to ease the tension with Rain.

He seems unimpressed and like he would rather be anywhere else. “I suppose I could help you out earthrealmer." He tries to keep his voice neutral. He leads me out of the beautiful forest. To a army(?) Encampment, not so fond memories here or there, I hear someone barking orders, he looks so different from what I'm used to. Tall with horns, scale texture instead of hair with ridges, claws for hand and more of that scales texture the student in me is going crazy I want to ask him questions only to be picked up by someone by the back of my shirt, “don't look at the general, he's a very busy man with no want to deal with people like you." I hear someone rasp out, voice sounding like he eats gravel and asphalt for breakfast. “They are looking for away home, their from earth realm." Rain explains.

He looks at the man holding me up, I really hope this goes well. Last thing I want is to be stuck in a foreign land with only my sling bag and the clothes on my back. “Then they can talk to Sindel then, and we're busy training new recruits.” It was that same raspy voice again, I try to look at him? “Can you please set me down." I hear him growl and drop me on my ass. "Rude. I said set me down not drop me." He snorts and walks away, he's round 7’6, wide shoulders, well built, he has his sides shaved and the top pulled into a half bun. “Who was that?" I ask Rain. “That was Reiko the general's second in command." He offers his hand to me and I take it as he pulls me up. The general is nowhere to be seen now. Great my only hope of getting home gone like my father before I was born.

It takes three more before I see them again, apon a second look at the general I see that he has serpent eyes, sharp teeth and a growl to his voice that normal men certainly don't have. I learned since then that Reiko has light blue eyes that seems almost white in the sunlight. Rain assures me that shao will talk to me cause I hold information that he wants. Let's hope hes right. Rain decided to help distract reiko while I talk to the general it's working but I can't seem to pin him down. Once I do he seems irritated. "I swear each year you lot get weaker, i could have beat you as a sickly boy." He growls out to them. " Hell sir I was told you could help me." Those eerie eyes turn on to me, " who told you that and help you do what exactly?" He growls out.

To be continued

[aurora567]

Morbid Curiosity Ch. 1

Warning: this story will contain mature content such as but not limited to sex, cursing, blood, violence, fighting.

Summary: This is a short Hanma/OC story that will have 4 chapters. So enjoy.

Word count: 3589

Next Chapter

The first time she met the man called Hanma Shuji was on a day when she had decided to visit an old friend. But Draken lived in a brothel, and whether it was a mild form of embarrassment or what she did not know. But he didn’t exactly like people just showing up. She never questioned it, but today she had wanted to visit him and so she was texting him as she walked towards the building he called home. The flip phone in her hand was a pain to text on. She should have just called him but she didn’t for some reason. Instead she was looking at her phone as her fingers typed repeatedly at the numbers to write out the message that she was nearby and would be waiting outside. 

She never got the chance to hit send as she found herself walking into what she thought was a wall. The phone clattered to the ground and she was rubbing her nose as she cursed. It wasn’t till she looked up that she paused. It apparently had not been a wall she walked into but a young man. He looked about seventeen or eighteen if she had to guess. And he was fucking tall. She had to crank her head back to look up at his face. The first thing that caught her attention was the long earring in his left ear. His eyes looked golden in the bright sunlight. The side of his head was shaved short while the top was left long and gelled up in an almost small mohawk like style. It was mostly dark but had a blonde stripe down the front. She had to resist the urge to laugh when it instantly reminded her of the stripe down a skunk's back. 

He was standing outside the front door to the brothel that Draken called home. Had he just left the brothel? Was he a client of one of the girls there? If so he looked a little too young to be legally allowed to pay for sex. Then again with Draken living on the site would anyone be able to prove this guy was here for sex? 

All the while she was thinking this over in her head the tall man had leaned over to pick up her phone that had hit the ground. Not having any issues with being rude he looked at the device and read the contact name and the message itself.

“You Draken’s girl?” He asked, looking down at the young woman who was just standing there staring at him. “I thought his girl was blonde?”

The question shook her from her mind as she frowned at the stranger who still had her phone in hand. She tried to reach out and grab it but the man just simply moved it out of her reach. Which was not hard to do as he had at least a foot of height on her. 

“Just a friend, now give me back my fucking phone,” she said, still trying to reach for her cell phone which he was holding out of her reach as he held the device above his head. The grin that was growing across his face was almost sinister. 

It was a childish move but Hanma found it entertaining to hold the phone up above the girl’s head and just out of her reach even as she jumped around trying to reach for the phone. He found it entertaining watching this stranger curse at him while he held the phone out of her hand like some child. 

“You sure have some mouth on ya,” he teased with a deep chuckle as he listened to the stranger cursing at him as he held her phone up just high enough that her short stature could not reach it even as she tried to jump for it.

Though his fun was cut short when the phone was suddenly snatched from his hand by a much taller body than the girls. One he had been waiting for. 

“What the hell is going on?” Draken asks as he glanced unamused between the two familiar faces. One of which he had not expected to see when he had walked out of the brothel that morning. 

“Draken,” was the simultaneous greeting he got. One more high pitched and happy to greet him. The other an almost bored droll. Said blonde was looking back and forth between the two, not caring too much for the greeting. It did not answer his question and he kept his unimpressed look on his face to get across that he was still waiting for an answer. 

“This asshole took my phone,” She growled as she jabbed a thumb over at the tall man who had moments ago been holding her cellphone above her head like a petulant child. 

At the mention of said phone Draken looked down at the device in his own hands now that he had snatched it from Hanma once he had spotted the man holding up the device. Glancing down at the opened flip phone he could see the almost complete text that had his name in the contact it was to be sent to. 

“You’re the one who ran into me, girl. Maybe you should learn some manners and not walk and text at the same time,” Hanma sneered down at the girl who was glaring up at him. It was a bit of a sight to be hold. This short girl was nearly a full foot shorter than Hanma. And yet she was not scared of him. 

Draken had to admit it surprised him a bit. It didn’t take a genius to look at Hanma and know he was trouble. This young man was tall, his hair gelled up and was slightly dyed. The top of each hand is decorated in a tattoo. Even without reading them Draken would bet people would avoid someone like that. Draken knew all too well himself being a tall man with visible tattoos. It only aided in the stigma of how delinquents look. 

Maybe she had been hanging out too much with a few of the guys from Toman since looking at Hanma did not have her scared. She was just lucky Hanma was not the type to pick fights with girls. Or maybe that was a lie as Draken watched as Hanma was grinning down at the girl he was annoying while Draken stood back and watched the two while still holding the phone which had seemed to start everything. 

“Here take this back,” Draken said as he proceeded to toss the phone in his hands towards its owner. 

It became a scramble as she realized that Draken had just tossed her cell phone into the air towards her. She felt panic for a second as she scurried to grab her cell phone. Clutching it tightly in her hands she held the device up to her chest. 

“Fucking hell Draken. What if I didn’t catch it? Don’t just throw my phone around,” she glared over at Draken as she hugged her precious phone. 

“You caught it,” he shrugged nonchalantly, without a care in the world he could have potentially broken her cell phone. 

“What are you doing here Kokumori?” Draken asked with the arch of an eye brow down at the girl. 

“I was just in the area. Figured I’d stop in and say hello.” She said flashing Draken a warm smile. 

Now this drew Hanma’s attention back to how he had seen she had been texting Draken before she walked into him. This girl had been so busy texting Draken that she had not even been paying her surroundings any attention. She wanted to see him. And he knew that look on her face. One of someone harboring a crush. He thought back to his earlier comment of asking if she was Drakens girl. She had said no, and if Hanma remembered correctly it was a blonde that had been with Draken the night they met at that festival fight. She wasn’t Draken’s girl, but she wished she was. 

That was comical to Hanma. Poor little thing was chasing someone who would never return her feelings. 

“But uhm it seemed you have company waiting for you already,” with that comment of hers both sets of eyes turned to look over at Hanma who had been standing back just watching the girl and trying not to laugh. 

“Oh don’t worry about me girlie,” Hanma said flashing her a toothy grin that he knew often unnerved weak people. 

“Don’t call me girlie,” she hissed at him. Which only had Hanma’s grin growing wider. She didn’t seem to cower from him. Did she not find him intimidating? Then again if she was friends with Draken maybe she would not find a tall man with tattoos as scary. How interesting. 

“Then what should I call you instead girlie?” Hanma nearly coed at her as he was doing it to irritate her. 

“Kokumori Chuya,” she spit out her name at him. Unhappy about how he suckered her name out of her. 

“Oh I think I’ll call you little Mori,” Hanma was just trying to get a reaction out of her now. It was fun watching her cheeks flush with anger. He watched as she stomped a foot before she stormed towards him. 

“No you will not. I am not girly, or little Mori. You will call me Kokumori and nothing else,” she said as she stomped till she stood before him and had to crank her head back to look up at him as he nearly curled over her. 

“Hanma,” the warning came from Draken as Hanma had felt an almost feral grin starting to pull at his lips and Draken knew that would only mean trouble for her. And he was not sure if she could handle the reaper. 

Hanma let his grin drop back down to something more passive. He raised his hands up and stepped away from the girl. 

“Now now no need to growl at me Draken. I promise I won't hurt the girl,” Hanma said as he glanced from Draken back to her. He watched the confusion cross her face. She had no idea how dangerous he was, nor what trouble he could bring with him. 

“Uhm am I interrupting something? I didn’t know you were already gonna be hanging out with someone,” she said, turning her attention away from Hanma and back to Draken. 

“Nah you ain’t interrupting anything. Hanma just shows up every Sunday looking for a fight,” Draken said as if that was a completely normal thing. Then again for someone who fights on a nearly daily basis maybe it was normal for them. 

She did not seem very fazed by such comments. She simply blinked her eyes at the blonde and nodded her head at him. 

“Ah okay. Is he part of Toman?” She asked. Those dark eyes of hers looking between the two men. 

“No,” both men answered her with the simple word. 

“Oh. Okay,” she said simply and then dropped the subject of him. 

“Well if you're busy maybe I’ll just be on my way,” she said as she started to fidget with the edge of her shirt. Clearly she didn’t want to leave. 

“Nah. There’s no need for that.” Hanma said as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and popped one between his lips as he lit it up, 

“I am sure we won’t be long. Why don’t ya just come with?” Hanma said simply. Though it didn’t sound as much like a question as it should have. 

A little uneasy she glanced quickly at Draken who looked bored. Well if he was not worried then it should be safe for her. Right? Yeah she should have known to say no. Going to a secondary location with two men was not the most safest idea. Yet she shrugged her shoulders. 

“Okay,” 

She was a moron with a death wish. But she trusted Draken. He had been a friend of hers. Or at least she felt like they were friends. 

“Come on then,” Hanma grinned as he turned on his heel and started to lead the small group away from Drakens home. 

“I still feel like I am missing something here?” She asked as she noticed both men start to walk away before she had quickly trotted after them. 

“Huh! What the fuck you talking about?” Draken asked as he looked over at her. 

“Well are you two really gonna start a fight? And you're not in uniform,” she pointed out. She had a slight understanding of how gangs worked. She was under the impression that gangs wore their uniforms when fighting with one another. And Hanma wasn’t a fellow Toman member and he was here to fight Draken. 

“Oh. Hanma shows up every Sunday looking for a fight. These fights are also not related to Toman or gang stuff so I don’t bother with the uniform,” Draken said simply as if it was common knowledge and she was an idiot. 

“Every Sunday? Why?” She was surprised by the knowledge. 

“Cause it’s fun,” Came Hanma’s reply with a wide grin tossed over his shoulder as he grinned at her before leading the way into a small empty little garden-like area. Her eyebrows pulled together as she looked confused at him. Fun, he thought fighting was fun. Was this guy crazy? Her face must have betrayed her thoughts cause Hanma started to laugh. 

“Where did you find this chick, Draken?” Hanma asked as he laughed. 

“We were classmates in grade school,” Draken answered simply. 

“We still are you idiot. You just never come to class. We won’t be classmates for long if you get held back a grade,” she grumbled as she followed the two guys into the empty park. Looking around she could tell the place was unkempt. The grass was more weeds than grass. A broken bench was covered in spray paint. There was clearly a reason why they had come into this area. It was clear only people up to no good would hang out in this park. 

She was busy looking around unsure at the clearly rough park. She missed that Hanma dropped his cigarette butt and watched as Draken shifted away from her. After all, neither of them wanted to drag her into their little fight. Draken was cracking his knuckles as he shifted away from her. 

She had turned her attention back as she watched the two men walk away from her just a little ways away before the two of them were jumping at each other. They were fast. She had seen Draken fight before. It had been a while. She had watched him pick fights in the school grounds when they were still young kids. She could remember an older kid trying to bully the blonde when he had been young. He had dyed his hair blonde for the first time and it gained him a lot of attention. Before he had even gained his head tattoo and kept his sides shaved. Draken always seemed to find himself in fights in the school yard every grade ever since he was tiny or smaller, since Draken has always been tall for his age. 

But watching him now she could see how he had become stronger. He was faster than she remembered. The sound of his fist colliding with Hanma’s left arm as he tried to block the blow, yet the sound of the collision of blows made her stomach turn. She was amazed they were not breaking bones. Bloody noses, busted lips, and bruised cheeks only took a few minutes to acquire for both of them. 

Finally Hanma let out a crazed laugh. Both guys paused in their punching of one another. Draken chuckled softly before they both moved to sit down on the ground as they pant and tried to catch their breaths. At some point they had come to an agreement. Who won she did not know. Maybe they didn’t know either? It didn’t matter she was not about to ask. 

“Are you two Neanderthals done?” She asked with a tilt of her head as she slowly started to walk towards them. 

“Yeah we are done,” Draken said as he was wiping some blood that was still running from his nose. She let out a sigh. What a mess they had made of each other. 

“And you two do this every week?” She asked as she walked towards them and stopped between the two. 

“Yeah,” Hanma answered with a chuckle as he lit up a new cigarette. 

“Why,” she asked, looking down at Hanma. Though he was so tall she was barely looking down even as she was standing in front of him. 

“Why not? It’s fun,” she did not get it. What was fun about beating the shit out of each other. It had to hurt. So why? What was fun about pain? She would never understand guys. 

Surely they were just idiots. Missing one too many brain cells from getting knocked in the head too much. That had to be it. And yet somehow she found this type of stupidity hot. She really needed to have a talk with her hormone rattled brain. 

“Is this where you always come to fight?” She asked, looking once away at Hanma even as he lifted his head and proceeded to exhale his lung full of smoke towards her. She hated the stink of tar from cigarettes. She gave out a cough as she waved a hand in front of her face trying to clear the air. 

“Just full of questions ain’t ya,” Hanma teased before taking another drag. 

Cursing under her breath she stepped away from Hanma and closer towards Draken not wanting to get another face full of smoke. 

“Just trying to understand how the two brainless idiots think,” she hissed at Hanma who only chuckled at her.  

“Why were you in this side of town Kokumori?” Draken asked as he was pretty. Sure she lived in a different district. 

“Was gonna do some shopping and found myself in the area. And since I never see you in class I figured I’d stop in. See if you were even still alive,” she said as she moved to sit on the ground. Sitting closer to Draken than Hanma. 

Draken didn’t really get it. Why did she want to see him? They were friendly with each other for sure. They had shared a lot of classes together throughout the years. And he couldn’t deny if it wasn’t for her notes from class he probably would have failed a long time ago. But he would not say their friendship was strong enough that they hung out or anything of the sort. 

“Yeah well I'm still alive clearly,” he said simply as if he did not live a dangerous life.  

“How could I know? You never text. And the last time I had not seen you for a few weeks you had gone and gotten yourself stabbed,” she pointed out with her little snarky remark as she reached over and poked Draken in the stomach close to his scar. 

Hanma let out a little snicker as he watched the two sitting across from him as he puffed on his cigarette. His snicker had drawn the attention of both the chick and Draken. 

“I like her. She don’t take your shit Draken,” Hanma said as he just watched Draken roll his eyes as if he was accustomed to being teased about girls chasing him. Then again maybe he was. First that blonde chick that was Mikey’s sister. And now this new one. The guys in Toman probably have a hay day teasing the tall blonde about his little group of lovers. If it wasn’t blantently oblivious that Draken did not notice this girl's feelings he would have asked Draken which one was better in bed. But it was clear Draken either noticed the girl's feelings and chose to ignore them, or he was to stupid to see them. No Hanma could not imagine a teenage boy living in a brothel could not spot flirting and a girl chasing him. 

Hanma almost felt sorry for her. Key word almost. It was her own fault for chasing a moron like Ryūguji Ken who would never return her feelings. But it was entertaining to watch. Like a car crash. He could not bring himself to look away. He also wanted to see if the car would start to burn at any point. Which was why he was still sitting there at that moment. Usually once he had caught his breath he would have left already. He came to fight, he got that, he should leave already. But he was too invested in this wreck to look away now. Still he could not watch forever. 

“Well this was fun. But I got places to be. See ya,” Hanma said as he finished his smoke and climbed to his feet. Stuffing his bruised knuckles into his pant pockets she watched as the man slunk away leaving Kokumori and Draken alone. 

“What the fuck is up with him?” She asked, looking over at Draken. 

“Who knows. I am sure there’s a list,” Draken said, shrugging his shoulders at her. 

That was how she fell into the routine of joining the guys on Sunday mornings to watch them beat each other up. And how she had met the man called Hanma Shuji.

Next Chapter

[stevessecretfantasy2]

Lock update ☆ 6 days to go.

Ok, sorry for the delay since the last post. I've been working 12 hour night shifts, and to be honest, I've been questioning whether to even post about this.

So both me and my other half both had 2 days off after my last post. We decided to experiment with me going full sub.

It started off "normal enough." I had my cage removed for a supervised shower, went back into the bedroom to dry, and got dressed. The difference being this time, instead of my usual clothes, my fiance had selected several sets of her lingerie. I eventually selected a pair of black, lasy, French cut pantys with matching bra and a pair of fishnet stockings ( I shaved my legs the night before. ) I do remember blushing when she told me what a cute little sissy I make. Nothing much happened for the rest of that day. I stade in the house cooking and cleaning and generally preparing for tomorrow. In the afternoon, however, my other hath wanted to take some pictures for the grupe chat we are in with her 3 frends. They went absolutely nuts, and I was utterly humiliated. ( I will be "punishing" my other half when I'm back in charge for this. )

The next day was definitely the more interesting. Started off dressed. Went to the shops to get the last thew buts and the began cooking. ( butter rosted chicken brest stuffed with cream cheese and herbs, and wrapped in bacon. Survived with a nice side salad and a homemade French dressing. Then a home made cheesecakefor dessert. ) it got to about 6 pm, and I was ordered to get undressed. The 3 of them arrived together at around 6:30 pm. My other hath created them and guided them in. I, as I had been ordered, was knealing in the living room hands on my head and caged cock on full display. The laughter was the worst bit. After a but of encouragement from my other half, the 3 of them had a good feel, mostly consisting of groping and spanking my ass. One of them did, however, give my cage and balls a good feel.

I spent the next couple of hours waiting on them. Bringing them wine and serving the food. After a while and a not insignificant amount of wine, they began to teas me. Making out, flashing me, and saying things like I bet I wished I was unlocke so that I could fuck them, pointing out my cock was trying to get hard in my little cage.

Eventually, the same one who grabbed my cage erlyer pulled up her dress and ordered me to eat her out. So after a nod from my other hath I went to town. I'm doing my best to show her what my mouth and fingers can do. At some point ( this entire section of the night is a bit of a blure. ) My other half decides to show how well I can take it up the ass these days. I ended up Cummings in my cage well being fucked Infront of 3 of hour frends and eating one out.

The rest of the night was relatively quiet. I cleaned up and continued to wate on them as they teased me. Eventually, I'm saying goodnight about 1am.

It's been comparatively qiet since then, just carrying on more or less as usual since then. The next 6 days can't come soon enough. I'm thinking I need to put my other half in chastity herself for all of this.

As usual, any questions, comments, or ideas please feel free to message me.

[skell3]

RP Muse: Gerard Keay

Gerry I think was the first muse I actually picked up for TMA. Kinda hard to resist, and I'm pretty sure I tracked down all the episodes with him in it to try and develop something that felt firm enough to write out, when I first got started. He's a bit different from the 'canon' timeline, but I've found I really enjoy the direction I put him in so I can play either 'canon' Gerry or my divergent line.

Gerard Keay is a tall man who looks a bit younger than he is. He generally keeps clean-shaven, though there are days where he decides he doesn't care and foregoes the morning shave. He wears a fair amount of eyeliner and black lipstick, has snakebite piercings and a septum ring, as well as a number of piercings along his ears. Born a strawberry blond, he does his best to dye it all black and most often ends up with his roots showing and a couple of blotches of hair not quite dyed well enough. He'll usually get to it when it starts to fade more, because it looks absolutely awful.

Gerry's body is covered in burn scars, not only taking away some sensations of hot/cold/touch, but also making him generally keep his skin covered up. The only parts of him that aren't burnt are his head, from mid-neck up, and small areas around his tattoos. His ink are all eyes at every joint along his body, from fingers to spine to jaw, and vary in size to suit them. The ones at his jaw are usually fairly covered by his hair, but his hands and a singular eye above his hyoid at his throat are the ones most seen by others.

With his makeup, Gerry wears a lot of metal and grunge band shirts, as well as a lot of black clothing in general. He also tends to keep a black trench coat on, covering up his arms and giving him some measure of protection from the weather when he's out skulking about and avoiding going home as best he can. It has enough pockets to tuck away a lighter and a pack of smokes, maybe a book, as well as his phone and keys so it's convenient to have with him whether he has pants pockets for the day or not.

That being said, Gerard has found a couple of his dad's old shirts and things his Mother doesn't seem to care much for, and has taken them into his collection. This includes some bright button-up shirts, of which may be some of the only colourful clothing items he owns and willingly will wear sparingly. If anything, it seems to startle people to spot him out and about, resting bitch face active, with a bright green shirt that has flamingos printed all over it.

Home life is where there's more divergence. This iteration of Gerard did not have as much help from Gertrude in the beginning, and instead of bringing her the book to handle the pages of Mary Keay, he burnt down Pinhole Books after packing his bags. After learning so much from his mother in the past, he managed to set it up as an electrical fire and was not only able to get the insurance off of the building, but he sold the lot and bought himself a flat to live in by himself. It's still pretty empty, but he painted a lot of walls black and put up music posters, and his neighbors get too intimidated to tell him to turn his music down when he's home and trying to relax.

Having been burning books in the past, to avoid Mary getting her hands on them, Gerry is very attuned to fire. He is also very attuned to anger, hurt, loss... so the burning of Pinhole Books has bumped him in a fairly solid direction of Desolation. A direction of which Gertrude has stepped in to try and get him off of, but it's even more difficult now that Gerry has to figure out what he is going to do with himself now that Mary is gone. While he helps Gertrude out and hunts down more Leitners to burn, he also finds himself contemplating on the things he could have had verses what Mary gave him. A lot of it just makes him angry, and over time the urge to burn precious things belonging to other people, things he could never have growing up, has risen to some uncomfortable levels.

So Gerry's not full Desolation, yet, but he is definitely on that path. The Eye is still watching him, as well, because he still strives for information and knowledge, just the way Mary raised him to. He just never wanted to be her little Prince to some Book Kingdom, and works to do what he can for himself when he knows what to do. Being raised by Mary without Eric being around has left him lacking in some 'normal' social skills and otherwise, but he can take care of himself. For the most part.

All of this is, of course, before Gerry goes to America with Gertrude and could be considered very early in his 'free from Mary' arc of his life. If he goes Desolation... it would get rid of the migraines and bloody noses that show up more often than is normal. If not, he probably should really, Really see a doctor sooner rather than later. I know canonically it kind-of hit him out of the blue, but I also imagine there were probably warnings that he and Gertrude ignored until it was too late.

[the-elderly-are-evolving]

gay twilight princess character headcanons bc it pride month

look im sure someone else has done it but idc i have A Lot Of Feelings rn and they have 2 go somewhere so get on board or get off ma ass about it

Link:

u no him, u love him, he has like 3 pixels in this game and all of them r doing their best!

he's coming from a conservative little backwater (i say this as the unfortunate alum of a conservative little backwater myself-- sorry, but Ordon's main export is like. goats or w/ever, there's no way there aren't any trump supporters in that town), but i think once he travels around n gets 2 experience different things on his quests n shit he starts 2 unravel some of that internalized homophobia & becomes a great ally and, dare i say it, a little bi-curious

"but, gabe," i hear u say, "link is such a nonbinary icon, what about the transmasc & transfemme gender envy???" and 2 that i say mmmmm yea yea ik, but i don't think he sees it in himself yet, i think that comes later when he's got more adult confidence n shit. like i can see a 20's/30's link with long luscious braided hair wearing crop tops and mini skirts 2 show off his sick nasty battle scars while he picks ppl up at the bar

final verdict is bi and, later, genderqueer, although i think he's one of those ppl who doesn't really care about labels/ pronouns bc he is simply 2 busy sparkle emoij boots the house down slaying monsters hahahah get it im hilaris

Midna:

now that's a she/they if ever i've met one

one of those ppl whose gender presentation is mostly just looking like a scruffy & stinky goblin cretur 95% of the time except 4 that like. 2% of the time they actually make an effort and turn out****

def has a bro-code friendship w link where they both just don't talk about their feelings and instead r violent together love this little war criminal & her dog best friend

ur 1st instinct is lesbian, but look a little closer, and u will soon realize that this is simply a pansexual with a strong preference 4 women in their natural habitat

i think she is trying 2 b a responsible queer bc she knows link is unfamiliar w the community n she is trying 2 b a good ambassador between link n the gays uhhhhh unfortunately she is simply 2 busy trying 2 commit crimes & being like. a chronically online 20-year old or however old she's supposed 2 be & i think link comes away more confused than ever b4

****couple things here: a) ik that doesn't add up to 100%-- i am gay, what part of do not talk 2 me about numbers don't u understand b) ik midna was literally cursed 2 b an imp by zant, but it doesn't change anything in my mind and u can't convince me that she didn't just pull out her "true form" bullshit 2 try an seduce zelda at the end of the game c) no i have no personal experience with this gender presentation at all how dare you insinuate anything of the sort i have totally showered this week totally now shut up

Zelda:

Lesbian, no further questions ur honor

Furthermore, femme lesbian, often gets Assigned Straight On Sight & is very tired of getting hit on by straight men

One of those gays who wear wacky silly n fun statement earrings so other queer ppl know they're gay

We don't actually see her a lot in this game so there's not much 2 go off of with her characterization... this zelda has had a lot of pressure put on her what with being the sole leader of her people in this time of extreme stress, & so i think she is very competent & composed & controlled, but out of necessity, which will prob lead her 2 rebel later in life & act out a little when the country is not at war & she gets to be more of a child again.... basically what im saying is twilight princess should've had a sequel n it should've started w zelda deciding she's punk now, shaving her head, and making link help her run away from home

EDIT: how did i not see this b4...... i have been a fool...... zelda is secretly an astrology gay. it's one of her guilty pleasures bc she knows it's prob not real n the planets prob aren't doing anything w ppl's personalities, but she can't help but b like oooh but wouldn't it b fun if the real reason zant was such a little bitch was just bc his pisces is in retrograde?

[theawkwardqueerturtle]

Christmas Solace

A/N: Since you guys voted overwhelmingly in favor of posting this, here it is! I hope you enjoy :)

Wally sat down on a bench. He wasn’t ready to go back to his apartment, not after what he’d seen. He’d gotten home earlier than planned from work as a surprise gift from his boss. “Nobody seems to be coming in anytime soon, and no one wants to spend Christmas Eve at the mechanic’s; you guys go on home, I’ll still pay you for the rest of the day, though, don’t you worry about that. I’ll give you a call if I need any help around here, and I’ll pay overtime on the off chance I do. Have a good holiday!” He’d explained. Wally had been expecting to find Artemis watching those cheesy Christmas movies she pretended to hate but put up little resistance to watching, or maybe wrapping a few last-minute gifts, or trying to bake cookies, or doing just about anything other than fucking their neighbor in the living room. Wally was shaking as he closed the door, not even bothering to step into the apartment.

He resisted the urge to punch the door, to scream, to cry, to break down then and there. Instead, Wally walked away from the apartment building, not even having a destination in mind, just needing to walk. He eventually found himself sitting in a local park. He ignored the incessant buzzing of his phone; no doubt it was Artemis trying that “it was a mistake” crap. Instead, when he opened it up, he decided to send a text to Dick.

“Hey, you think it’ll be okay if I crash with you and Bruce for a few days? I don’t wanna see Artemis rn.” He requested.

“Yeah, I’m sure it’ll be fine; we got plenty of space for it, lol. Did something happen with you guys?” Dick answered. Wally wasted no time in speeding over to Wayne Manor, knocking on the door. He waited only a moment before Alfred welcomed him inside.

“Master Dick told me to expect your arrival; your timing is impeccable as always, sir.” Alfred said as he took Wally’s coat. “I would escort you to him, but I’m afraid my services are required in the kitchen; Master Dick is waiting for you in the parlor.” Wally nodded before he and Alfred parted ways. He found Dick sitting on a couch, eating cookies and typing something on a laptop; he glanced up, noticing the approaching redhead.

“Hey, are you alright? What’s going on with Artemis?” Dick asked as Wally sat down beside him. Wally took a breath, preparing to speak the words, fully making what happened real.

“I caught her cheating.” He finally answered, his voice breaking at the last syllable. Dick set aside the laptop, wrapping an arm around Wally as he finally allowed himself to break down. He overheard footsteps walking into the room.

“Uh, Cam, I think Wally needs a minute; maybe ask Alfred to bring us some hot cocoa and an extra plate of cookies.” Cam silently walked away as Wally started eating from the plate of cookies already present. “I’m so sorry this happened, Wally. You stay as long as you need; I can fill in Bruce if you want.”

“Th-thanks.” Wally shuddered out. “I just…can’t believe she would do this to me.” Dick nodded.

Some time passed as Dick attempted to console Wally, listening to what he had to say, until they both heard footsteps walking into the parlor. Wally looked up and saw a short, chubby, androgynous man with a shaved head walking in with three cups of hot cocoa while Alfred followed closely behind with a plate of cookies. “Oh, Wally, I guess you wouldn’t have gotten the chance to hear about this; this is Cam, remember, from the Team? He came out as trans about two years ago; his pronouns are he/they, ‘he’ preferred, he started HRT earlier this year and got top surgery last month so you might not have recognized him.” Dick explained as Cam set down the hot cocoa in front of them.

Wally recalled the brief time he and Cam, hero name Faerie, were on the Team together, before he and Artemis announced their retirement; he remembered that at the time Cam seemed very guarded and closed-off, always with a sad look in their eyes, and painfully thin as well. Now, he seemed much happier and more relaxed; he was practically a new person! He smiled at Wally. “Are you feeling a little better?” he asked, picking up one of the cups of hot cocoa. Wally shrugged.

“I dunno.” Wally admitted.

“What happened?”

“His girlfriend cheated on him.” Dick answered, sparing Wally from having to explain for a second time. Cam’s eyebrows raised.

“I’m so sorry that happened to you, Wally.” Cam said, reaching out to brush against Wally’s hand.

Wally’s phone rang. Looks like Artemis was done patiently waiting for him to answer. “Are you ready to talk to her?” Dick asked, looking at the caller ID. Wally thought for a moment before shaking his head. “It’s okay, I’ll handle it. Cam, keep him company; I’ll take the call in another room.” Dick picked up the phone and started towards the door. Wally and Cam could just hear him saying, “You’ve got some real nerve!” as he walked into the hallway.

Wally shakily sighed, resting his head in his hands. “I-is there…anything you want me to do?” Cam stuttered out, rubbing Wally’s back.

“Just keep talking. I don’t want to think about Artemis right now.” Wally answered. Cam blushed.

“I’ve never been much of a talker, but…I could read to you. Maybe that’ll work?” Wally nodded.

“Yeah, sure.” Cam smiled, going to a bookshelf, picking up and setting down a few different books before settling on one and walking back over.

“Let’s go with A Christmas Carol, since it’s Christmas Eve and all.” Cam suggested, sitting down inches away from Wally, opening up the book so they could both see the text on the page before he began to read, “Marley was dead: to begin with. There was no doubt whatever about that.”

Wally found himself easily taking comfort in Cam’s reading of the Dickens tale. His voice was steady and peaceful, as though he’d read the book hundreds of times already, which Wally supposed was possible. He did always seem to have his nose stuck in a book when they were on the Team together. Yet, despite how peaceful he was, Cam’s voice seemed to breathe just the right emotions into each character as he read for them. Scrooge’s bitter annoyance, Cratchit’s cautious optimism, Marley’s utter anguish, it was all there. He could tell without asking that this was one of Cam’s favorite books. The Spirit of Christmas Past had already taken Scrooge back to his school days before Wally cared to notice that Dick had returned to his place on the couch. Cam paused his reading as he also noticed the added presence.

“You want an update?” Dick asked. Wally took a moment to ask himself the same question.

“Maybe after Cam finishes reading.” He finally concluded. Cam smiled as he resumed his place in the book.

Wally found himself surprised by how easy it was to forget about Dick’s news regarding Artemis with Cam reading to him; their presence was somehow inherently comforting. Before Wally knew it his head was resting against Cam’s shoulder, feeling his words as much as he heard them. By the time Alfred called them for dinner, Wally felt as though he could nod off at any moment.

On the way to the dining room, Dick pulled Wally aside and gave him the run-down of his phone call with Artemis. She apparently apologized that he had to see her like that and explained that she’d been having second thoughts about their relationship, and that the girl living next-door just happened to have a similar schedule to her and one thing led to another and they’d been having sex for the past few months. She’d admitted that she should have been honest with him from the beginning, and that it was supposed to be just meaningless sex, but that somewhere along the way her feelings got out of hand and now she couldn’t choose. Wally was surprised by how little he felt now that all was said and done. He simply pulled out his phone and texted her, “No need to choose; we’re done, Artemis.”

He sat down in between Cam and Dick. The conversation at the table was light; Artemis was quickly escaping Wally’s mind. Cam was beaming as he talked about how he was looking forward to exchanging gifts the next day, and Wally was hanging onto every word. If he’d glanced over at Dick, he’d have found a knowing smile on his face.

After dinner, Dick informed Wally that he needed to get back to his case and that Cam would show him to his room. Wally just missed the smirking glance Dick gave as he walked away, though he did notice Cam’s cheeks brighten with flush. “I-I’m really sorry about all this.” Cam explained shyly. “I, um, had a premonition when I first saw you and Artemis together. I thought about telling you, but you seemed so happy, and uh, well, telling people something bad will happen doesn’t usually deter them from doing whatever will cause it, y’know? I don’t even know why I’m telling you this now, I should’ve just kept my mouth shut, I’m sorry.” Wally was curious.

“You…had a premonition?” Cam flushed even further.

“I know you don’t really believe in these sorts of things, that’s another reason I didn’t want to tell you, but I’m a clairvoyant. I can sometimes see things that happened or will happen in other places and times, or rather, I can sense it. When I saw you and Artemis together, I sensed a future betrayal. I wanted to warn you, but like I said, I know you don’t believe this sort of stuff, and I didn’t want to come off like…I-I should just shut up, I’m sorry.”

“No, I want to hear it. What didn’t you want to come off like?” Cam’s face was beet red. He’d stopped walking, shifting on his feet.

“I-I didn’t…I didn’t want to come off like…like some jealous ass.” Cam’s eyes darted away. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have put this on you. I know you just broke up with her today, I should’ve just kept my dumb mouth shut.”

“No, no, you’re alright.” Wally gave him a soft smile. “I think it’s nice that you’re so worried about other people. And, uh…no need to worry about that jealous thing. That’s all behind us now.” Cam nodded, seeming to relax a bit, before gesturing towards the nearest door.

“So, this is your room.” He explained, ushering Wally inside. “It’s pretty nice, and I’m just down the hall if you need anything. Um, if you don’t like it, I’m sure we can find somewhere else for you.”

“No, this room is fine.” Wally looked around the room; it was comfortable enough for a guest room. Finally, his eyes landed on the ceiling just over Cam’s head. “Uh…Cam…” Cam looked up and their face went a fine shade of magenta at the sight of dangling mistletoe.

“I-I…” Cam’s voice squeaked as he looked back at Wally. “I didn’t know that was there! I swear, I-” Cam’s words were cut off when Wally captured his lips in a kiss. Cam whimpered, slowly easing himself into the kiss as Wally pulled him close. Finally, they broke apart for air. “I-I…” Cam trailed off. “I thought you were straight.” He blushed, seemingly beating himself up that that was all he could think of after getting kissed.

“Me too, but I guess not.” Wally admitted, pressing his forehead against Cam’s. “I don’t want to be alone tonight. Stay with me?” Cam gave a soft, hopeful smile as he nodded. Wally pulled him in for another kiss.

[ltsaradharkness]

Today has been wild.

Got home from work and my Aunt Darlene is washing laundry. (Not like the laundry has been empty for four days) (( and while it did take like an extra day because nana was asleep on the couch when I got up on Monday at like 3am it still has been empty since like Tuesday night)) but I'm only off Sunday night and Monday. I had planned to do my laundry when I got home so I could enjoy my day tomorrow but whatever. It's nana and pawpaw clothes anyway so whatever. (Nana has shingles and is bad off and pawpaw is having a rough go. She should have been doing it Thursday or Friday tho like come on)

Any who, I decided to shave my head and got a shower. Then I'm sitting in bed and my aunt Christine texts, they were in the area and wanted to come see mom. So they brought KFC and sat for about two hours. In that time DJ decided to be mad at me for not answering her when I didn't really have anything nice to say and started calling me fatty under her breath but not even that quite like dude really. Ew. Called me lazy when I didn't wanna get something off the trash for her when she could have just flatten the box instead. Like lady you're the one making this harder not me. Then slamming stuff around. (she has already broken the trashcan and the toaster. Not today but still. Go away break the six hundred dollar microwave or the hundred dollar coffee maker see where that gets yeah) so nana is trying to tell her something and she can't hear her so I told her what she was saying and then just wanted to get loud and I just let nana handle it. Like yeah you do that because her calling me fatty under her breath is bs. Nana wants to say I have an attitude when I'm feed up with her BS and don't have the energy to put up with it but damn at least I don't break shit I can't pay for. Or start shit I can't finish. Like really come on.

Dealing with this is so stupid sometimes, like smoking in the bathroom, getting literal toothpaste every one. From the tube. Not flushing or washing her hands touching food without washing her hands etc. So nasty. Not actually finishing anything etc. like why. Is this my crucible before I win the lottery and get out. I don't know what she is gonna do when nana and pawpaw pass Cause no one is gonna take care of her. No one.