#i just have a lot of mash feelings haha

[opens-up-4-nobody]

People in the mash fandom: I love you for tagging the individual episode numbers I draw screenshots from

[front-facing-pokemon]

[darqx]

Snakes on a post

Another particularly long answer dump since i, once again, have a backlog of things to potentially answer |D

❗️For commonly asked qs please see my BTD FAQ

Got jumpscared with my own old art for a hot minute there LAUGHS.

(For those wondering, the naga doodle from here was attached to the ask)

That is every other Royal that exists in the Nether and also at least some of the demons that challenged him for his Royal title lol.

Believe me, no one was or is more surprised then me XD;

So, the thing about where Rire's ichor manifests is that it kinda exists and doesn't exist at the same time. Meaning that his upper back is where the manifestation point is anchored, BUT it can still manifest with a bit of space in between it and his back hence why it will manifest over his clothes and not through them.

So if you touch where the manifestation point is sans the ichor, than you are just straight up touching his back. With the ichor, he still gets sensory input from the tentacles to his back but it's a lot more soft and muted esp the further away it gets from him. As you've seen implied though, he would feel a very sharp pain if a great deal of damage was done to the ichor where it clusters at the manifestation point, since he'd DEF be feeling that straight in his back lol.

He is definitely a top and the only way he would bottom for anybody is if they somehow forced him to.

Ah i knew i'd answered this a long time ago [finally found it]! Holy crosses (those that have been blessed) can also burn him but they would need to be in contact with him the entire time. Being a Royal he also has more of a tolerance to these than normal demons.

Well, unless said person actually has the undeniable ability to make good on their words, Rire would just stand there rather genially with that little smile he sometimes has and let them finish.

And then he might use them as reverse suggestions for dealing with said person (why would you give him any ideas!!?)

both

In BTD canon it is quite possible that they actually haven't in person. But we are using creative license here haha.

Rire heals a lot faster than a human. Cain is not my character so I don't know how his stacks up.

I've grouped these asks cos they kind of have similar answers - 360° (jk sorry sorry to the second q that is just a very common spelling mistake and I couldn't resist XD; )

Now, even though we mashed all the characs together in BTD, they all actually come from different storylines and so their canons outside the "BTD canon" may differ. This tends to bleed in. With this in mind:

The rules of Rire's canon (eg the concept of Battle Royales and how to become a Royal) don't apply to Cain. Anyway, they don't live in the same place either.

Cain is canonically the oldest and most OP character in BTD lol so yes he is stronger than Rire - you might've noticed, but Rire is never in the same drawing as Cain voluntarily. I play with this along with the "natural weakness" aspect - which I've also referred to as scissors-paper-rock rules XD Basically; demons beat humans, angels beat demons (purely because demons have weakness against holiness).

It would (be insane) but I hope you are not looking at me to fulfil this :d

Not really

His coronation day is a public holiday in his sector so yes XD

Aww thank you very much for your interest! ≧(´▽｀)≦ It's really cool that some of you guys want to actually fund such a thing - I'd have thought you'd have enough of him killing you in BTD1 XD Unfortunately, I have no plans for a Rire game at the moment as I'm working on a webcomic which looks like it will take up all my free time (that being said, he will be in the webcomic at some point).

Nope! Although i can kinda see why you might think that lol.

Whatever that one is where he doesn't particularly care what someone else identifies as. It really makes no difference to him or how he will act.

There are viruses in the Nether that if contracted could potentially kill you, yes. Part of being a Royal is becoming a lot more robust than normal Demons though. As for if/when Rire dies, I dunno maybe either in a Battle Royale somewhere thousands of years down the line or by old age (which is rare for a Royal but not impossible if you play your cards right).

If you are asking if he has a heat/rut of some sort, he does not |D

[theartingace]

Hello! I’ve seen your work over the years and every time I see it I always get a kick over it. I have a sociological question to ask you about centaurs. How do humans or other races fit into their lives? Both in a general sense of life, platonically, and romantically? Sorry if you’ve answered this before.

Thank you! It always blows my mind that I've been puttering away in my little corner of the internet with my horse people for this long!

I've covered a couple different specific situations in my cultures; re platonic and romantic? but for the most part is it boils down to that romantic would probably be rare and boil down to individual choices for how they approach it? But for platonic I have sort of covered a lot of platonic relationships just from the standpoint that basically all my centaur cultures have a deep societal tie to another race. At first it was a lot of convenience- a way to get around the difficulties of centaur bodies getting in the way of certain ways of life, but at this point I just do it cause it's lovely to me!

Like the merchants build their cities with the dwarves and they both benefit from the dwarves engineering and centaur's strength and mobility re:trade. The centaurs easily manage huge farms, trade networks, and logging infrastructure on their strength and speed but benefit from dwarves (and a small portion of other bipeds) being better set up for building (try to imagine a centaur making a roof, it's vexed me for a year now..) and generally engineering wizzes so it's a mutually beneficial relationship to entwine their cultures in the main Merchant City

Obviously my Riders are wholly entwined with their biped family as I've talked extensively about in.. too many posts probably haha

but then my very lightly covered Mountain folk have a different, almost religious relationship with the Forest Giants in which the relationship between their two cultures is separate other than the spiritual importance they hold with each other. The giants live approximately 300 years but are very slow, sedate creatures who prize a life of peace and telling stories over all else. So the centaurs almost view them as minor deities and the giants keep and love the stories their fiery little companions entrust to them.

As you can tell, I really love building all these races and cultures and then mashing them together and see what comes out! I find it makes the world feel more real and lived in when I'm not only thinking about how a culture would work and operate, but also how they interact with their neighbors! What's their main export and how does that shape their life and relations?? These are the questions I get LOST in so thank you for asking :D

[wilbursprincess]

“It Was So Lonely Sleeping Alone”

Superstarbur x Female Reader

Warnings: Just a whole lot of soft, fluffy reunion sex. Enjoy :)

This was one of the blurbs I wrote for my personal fictober this year, with the prompt “Reunion Sex”. First of 5 blurbs from my fictober I like enough to post, haha! This one is inspired by my own Bursona invention, whom I call “Superstarbur” after my favorite Taylor Swift song Superstar! I know, I know, quite the mouthful lol.

Smut under the cut!!!

I sigh, stretching out my legs on the empty, empty sofa. Wilbur’s been gone for just over two weeks, playing multiple sold out shows all over the country, and I was happy for him. No matter how many cute little videos of him slipping my name into songs during soundchecks, half-asleep selfies in his bunk on the bus, or dirty texts detailing every little thing he wanted to do to me, I still missed him. A lot. I missed Wilbur so much I could almost feel his absence, like an aching hole in my chest.

In the absence of him in our house, I’d taken to wearing his clothes. Obviously, they didn’t fit me at all, hoodie sleeves draping far over my hands and almost tripping on the hems of his sweatpants. But I didn’t care. They smelled like him, a familiar mix of his aftershave, deodorant, and shampoo, which was the closest I had to Wilbur himself.

A car door slams outside, making me jump, phone plopping screen-down onto the rug. I shake my head, silently chatising myself for being so jumpy at such a small sound. Retriviving my phone from the floor, I get up the sofa, heading into the kitchen. Maybe tea would calm my nerves.

Setting the kettle on to boil, I rummage through the cupboards, setting Wilbur’s favorite mug down and dropping a chamomile tea bag inside, adding a generous squirt of honey before topping off the mug with the freshly-boiled water.

I hear a key slide into the door, snapping up my head.

It’s just Tommy checking in on me.

The door flings wide open, bringing with it the chill of night air and a spray of rainwater, and the thunk of a suitcase.

A suitcase?

Socks sliding on the wooden floor, I run into the front hallway, just as an achingly familiar voice speaks from the doorway.

“Baby?”

“Will?” My breath catches in my throat as Wilbur steps into the light. “You’re home?”

He smiles, looking absolutely exhausted. “I am. I decided to surprise you by coming home a day early-”

Without waiting for him to finish his sentence, I run into his waiting arms, not caring how the water from his raincoat soaks into my clothes. “I missed you so much, Will,” I murmur into him, and he nods, hugging me tighter.

“Fuck, I missed you so much too,” he replies, tipping my chin up and kissing me. It’s deep, slow, and soft; making my heart swell with love.

“Do you need anything?” I ask when we pull back some time later. “You look exhausted.”

Wilbur smiles, somewhat-wearily. “That’s quite an understatement. I feel like I haven’t slept the entire tour.”

I press my mug of tea into his hands. “Have this, Will, you’re freezing, and go change,” I tell him, ushering him into our room. “I’ll make you some food, ok?”

While he changes, I get to work in the kitchen, frying eggs, popping toast into the toaster, and mashing up the remnants of an avocado I found in the fridge.

“That smells amazing.” Wilbur’s voice makes me jump, looking up from where I’m flipping the eggs. He’s changed into flannel pajama pants and an oversized hoodie, the silly matching cow slippers I bought us last Christmas on his feet. “Fuck, I haven’t had a proper cooked meal in ages.”

I slide the eggs onto the avocado-laden toast, topping it with a sprinkle of red pepper flakes and my favorite bagel seasoning. “Here you go. It’s not much, but-”

Before I’ve even finished my sentence, Wilbur’s shoved a bite of toast in his mouth.

“You could maybe try not to choke on your first night home in over two weeks,” I tease, and he swallows the mouthful with a smirk.

“That’s the best meal I’ve had all tour,” he says, smiling. “I’m so glad to be home.”

I perch on the counter while he finishes his toast and tea in record time, entertaining him with stories from when he’s been gone.

“Do you want to sleep now, Will?” I ask, rinsing off the plate and putting it in the dishwasher.

Sleepily, he nods. “I didn’t sleep great on the bus,” he murmurs, looking like he’s about to fall asleep at the table. “I have a lot of sleep to catch up on.”

“You go get ready for bed, I’ll finish cleaning up,” I tell him, leaning up to plant a kiss on his forehead.

Wilbur’s already in bed when I get into our room, dozing while I turn off the light and snuggle up to his side.

I close my eyes, expecting him to be asleep already, and I’m not expecting him to stir, groaning and pulling me closer into his chest. “I missed you so much,” he whispers, lightly planting kisses all over my face. “It was so lonely sleeping alone on the tour bus.”

“It was so lonely sleeping here alone too,” I murmur my reply, playing with his hair. “I’m so glad you’re home.”

Groaning, Wilbur rolls on top of me, slipping his hands up my shirt and kissing me so hard it shocks me for a second. “I need you,” he breathes, squeezing my hips as his teeth sink in my lower lip. “I’m so horny.”

Giggling, I trail a hand down his bare back. “Are you, now?”

He nods. “Haven’t had any privacy all tour,” he gasps, rubbing over my nipples. “Walls are too thin on the bus.”

“Well, I’m all yours,” I coo, reaching down to palm at him over his boxers. Wilbur whines and tries to push up into my touch. “You wanna fuck me?”

“Yes, fuck yes,” he groans, fumbling to get out of his boxers as I tug my shirt off over my head. “I might not last very long. Haven’t cum for two weeks.”

I laugh. “No problem.”

His fingers trail south, thumb flicking my clit as his fingers pump in and out of me as he grinds on my thigh.

“Oh, fuck, right there,” I moan out, eyes rolling back into my head. I’ve had plenty of time alone in our house with my toys when I missed Wilbur, but even just his fingers felt so much better than anything I could do myself.

Wilbur pulls his fingers out of me, sucking them into his mouth and sighing in pleasure.. “You always taste so good,” he whispers, sinking his rock-hard length into me. “But you feel even better wrapped around my cock.”

His first thrust makes us both groan, my back arching as I feel myself stretch around him. “You fill me up so well,” I pant. “You’re so big.”

I wrap my legs around his waist, letting him get a better angle and thrust into me deeper, his soft moans in my ear making everything between my thighs drip.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” Wilbur whines.

“I love how vocal you’re being, it’s so hot,” I moan, tugging at his curls. He responds with another loud moan, tugging me up so my clit grinds into his lower stomach.

The urgency of his hips snapping up to thrust deeper and deeper, all the beautiful noises he’s making, and the fact he’s panting like a dog tells me he’s close to his own climax, and if we hadn’t been apart for over two weeks, I’d be making fun of him right about now for not even lasting five minutes.

My own orgasm hits me like a train, and I press my face into his shoulder as I ride it out. When I manage to come back to earth, the sight of WIlbur’s face as he’s right on the edge of finishing almost makes me cum again.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he cries out, and I feel him twitch inside me, spilling himself inside me before pulling out and releasing the rest on my stomach.

Before I can remind him that he’s just cum all over my stomach, he flops back down, all ready to cuddle. “I just came so hard and so much,” he murmurs happily. “I think my balls may be completely deflated.”

I burst out laughing. “You know you’re laying in some of it, right?”

He pushes himself off my chest to see I’m right. “Oh shit,” he laughs.

“You wait here, I’ll get us cleaned up,” I tell him. “I know you normally handle this, but you look like you’ve collapsed.”

After running some warm water over a towel and cleaning up the mess dripping down my thighs, I head back into our bedroom, kneeling on our bed next to Wilbur and gently cleaning him up.

“I love you so much, darling,” he murmurs, looking at me with soft admiration in his deep brown eyes. “You’re coming on the next tour. I can’t be apart for you for so long ever again.”

I lean in, hair brushing his bare chest as I plant a kiss on his forehead. “Even though we won’t be able to do this?”

“I’ll bribe everyone to leave us alone on the bus for a few hours whenever we’re in the mood,” he promises. “I’ll bring you out on stage every show and ask the fans to bring you gifts.”

“What kind of gifts?”

“Will?”

I smile down at my now-fast asleep boyfriend. “Goodnight to you too, I suppose.l

[silverzoomies]

Monster Mash

peter maximoff x reader smut

warnings: shameless smut, smut, kissing, porn with plot, halloween, zombies, biting, undead, undead!reader, gender neutral reader, zombie kink

word count: 11,996

a/n: first of three peter-centric halloween fics!! hopefully i'll get them all posted before the month ends!! timeline here is extremely fuzzy, and might not fall in line with canon. it's kind of super ambiguous.

the usual apologies: clunky writing, potentially ooc peter/other characters, inconsistencies, ending's super meh, etc etc etc. idk if peter would realistically be down to bang a cute, zombified reader. but hey, it's fiction. why the heck not!

tag list (i remembered this time!!): @dewberryobssesed @violetharmonscupcake @kaismanwich @jellyluvr @icannot3 @taintandviolent @ahoyladiesz @scene-and-dandylover @quickandsilvers @luttic @billielourdslays

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October. Just a week before Halloween.

Peter didn’t celebrate the holiday too often these days. Not like he used to. Ever since he took up teaching at the X-mansion, he only participated in a handful of Halloween activities. The staple being - playing escort for mutant kiddos on trick-or-treating ventures. An activity he enjoyed a lot, since the kiddos referred to “Mr. Maximoff” as “the school's most awesome trick-or-treat buddy.” Which had nothing to do with Peter swiping a little extra candy - for the kids, of course - when the other teachers weren’t looking. Swear on his life.

Another Halloween festivity he loved? The school's annual, X-family Halloween party. The team generally left Peter in charge of decorations, considering it took him no time at all to set them up. Professor Chuck himself - legendary baldy - always played host at those parties. As per tradition - after the party died down - Peter cozied up in the living room with the team. They’d gather together to watch everyone’s favorite horror flicks on VHS.

He really couldn’t wait for this year’s festivities. Peter looked forward to those after-party, horror movie marathons every year. Movie nights with the team? Pretty freakin’ awesome. If only for two reasons: The abundance of sugary garbage to snack on. And the way Ororo loooooooved snuggling up with him on the couch. Being so hot natured helped. Living life in the fast lane - operating like a human furnace - sure had its perks sometimes. ‘Ro’s cuddling made an excellent distraction from Peter’s unbridled loneliness. Haha...

C-...Consider that a topic for another day. Moving on.

On horror movie night, Peter inevitably saw the jumpscares coming leagues before anyone else. It never failed. He’d call them seconds ahead of time. With ‘Ro lying at his side, and his arm wrapped around her waist. Peter would exclaim, “Jumpscare!”, breaking the tension heavy silence amongst the group. Spoiling whatever movie played. Everyone hated it, of course. Kurt growled at him. Animalistic, but nowhere near intimidating. Jubilee pelted Peter with popcorn.

Peter just couldn’t help himself. Those scares were so predictable and boring sometimes. Sure, he liked horror movies enough. With all the gnarly gore and twisted kills. But they never freaked him out, since he didn’t spook easily. His incomprehensible reaction time made terror a tough game.

All that being said...

Even with his totally outrageous bravery streak, Peter - guilty as charged - sure had his candy-ass moments.

This current mission proved, without a doubt, one of the spookiest situations he’d ever landed himself in. He could feel it in the air tonight. And not in the groovy, Phil Collins way either. An ominous sense of uneasiness crawled across his skin. Eerie vibes sent chills creeping up his spine like spiders through a web. Peter wished he could fast forward to Halloween night on the couch with ‘Ro. Heck, he'd even take decorating duty over this any day of the week. At least he could go all out, and have his own fun with it.

For an October’s night, the weather seemed uncannily coincidental. Drops of rain showered from a mass of black clouds. A sharp crack of lightning struck the ground, with a roar of thunder following in succession. It rattled the very foundation of the abandoned lab Peter found himself exploring. As part of a last minute, late night mission.

Below his feet, tiled floors laid in disrepair. Dirtying the mismatched laces of his untied sneakers. Peter snuck his way through murky hallways, his heightened senses buzzing on edge. Fight or flight kicked into high gear, making him all the more sensitive to any outside stimuli. Another echoing roar rumbled through the building, threatening to topple its cracking walls. Peter worried the ceiling might cave in at any moment.

A terrifying thought. But it happened to be the exact reason Hank chose Peter for this mission to begin with. Should shit hit the fan, Peter could skedaddle at the speed of light unscathed. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy. Unlike his other team members, who might risk being flattened like a pancake. Under the weight of, not one, but two floors above.

…Speaking of pancakes. Peter should definitely drop by a mom ‘n pop diner before heading back to base. He could really go for a fresh stack of late night hotcakes right about now. Warm and soft. With chocolate chips melting on the inside. Caked in sticky syrup and slathered with butter. Oooooh! And a little bacon on the side. Not too crispy, not too flop-

His mouth watered, and Peter blinked. Wiping his jacket sleeve across his lips, he redirected his attention to the task at hand. Focus, Quickie. He had a job to do, and he didn’t wanna be stuck doing said job all night.

The lab sat nestled off the coast of some island with a foreign name. Super hard to pronounce. Peter couldn’t remember it off the top of his head. Prior to this assignment, he’d never even heard of the place. But apparently, neither had anyone else. Hank sent Peter in search of what he dubbed leads on a mystery project. Something to do with scientific documents.

If he found any, he’d read their info over to Scott. Who would then relay that same intel back to Hank. Like an insanely boring game of telephone. Why Peter couldn’t speak to Hank directly was anybody’s guess. Too busy with his super secret project thingy-majig, possibly?

Hanging from Peter’s stereo belt alongside his old Walkman, a walkie screeched with a shrill chirp. A shock of alarm shot straight through Peter’s veins, making him jump. Scott’s voice crackled from the speakers.

“Any updates, Pete?” Scott asked, “Tell me anything you got. Even if it seems boring. Just hit me with it. It’s gotta be better than waiting around here in the lab, doing nothing.”

Peter held a compact flashlight in one hand, searching the lab’s pitch black halls. Most of the rooms he passed looked desolate. Barren and dusty. Save for the odd desk or empty cabinet. Peter wondered if they’d all been ransacked when the place closed down. The ceiling leaked rain from the floors above, dripping onto Peter’s bomber jacket. At the edge of his vision, he caught a rat scurrying by. But otherwise, not much else.

Pulling the walkie from his belt, he brought it up to his lips, “Uh. It’s dark and kinda spooky here. Saw a rat. Storm’s not gettin’ any better. It keeps shakin’ the whole place.” Peter shook his head, “If it doesn’t let up, I’m gonna have to split. Don’t wanna wait around to see what happens next, y’know? Over."

On the other end of the line, Scott breathed an annoyed sigh. Even through low-quality speaker fuzz, Peter could tell the sigh lacked any real spite.

“Peter. We’ve been over this. We aren’t using decades old, two-way radio communication. You really don’t have to say over. ”

Peter drummed his free hand on an empty desk. Following the beat of Sweet Poison by Naked Eyes, as it played from the only earbud he wore. He wanted to keep one ear open, just to hear Scott clearly. And mayhaps because he felt the teensy weensiest bit paranoid by his lonesome in the lab.

“Copy that. Over.” He grinned to himself.

The further Peter explored the lab’s halls, thick layers of mucky green seemed to take over. If he had to guess, he assumed Hank didn’t consider masses of moss “key intel.” Every few feet Peter stepped, he tore his way through another wall of cobwebs. Lots and lots of creepy cobwebs. Reduced to undying boredom, Peter took to karate chopping them. Might as well have fun in the face of ennui.

Half second flickers of lightning cast the lab in gleaming flashes. Bringing Peter’s attention to more rooms he missed. He wandered through some old offices. Or what he thought were offices, anyway. The trashed state of the rooms made it hard to tell. Nothing within them had withstood the test of time. Peter even tried poking around with some clunky computers. No luck. Dead as doornails.

“Found some computers. C64’s, I think. Haven’t seen one ‘a these bad boys since forever ago. But they’re totally busted.” Peter reported into the walkie, banging a fist onto one of the computers, “Yep. Busted. Over.”

Before leaving the room, Peter fucked around. Knocking over a computer monitor for no reason at all. He snatched a few, grubby pens from a lone desk. As well as a cracked coffee mug that read “I try to tell chemistry jokes, but there’s no reaction.” Just for the heck of it. Why not swipe some keepsakes, eh?

After what felt like a geological age of scouring, Peter eventually stumbled upon more filing cabinets. Stuffed to the brim with research documents and science-y records. Sighing, he pulled each drawer open one by one. Peter read the dusty files, sharing intel with Scott over the walkie. For every document Scott dismissed, Peter tossed them carelessly aside over his shoulder.

Antsy to wrap the mission up, grab some pancakes, and race home for a game of GoldenEye; Peter rushed through the last few folders. In hopes of finding whatever specific file Hank needed. But upon the last one, Scott broke some totally bogus news.

“Sorry about this.” Scott sighed, “Those files? Yeah. Hank says they’re all duds. No dice. You think it’s safe to keep looking? You might have to check the second floor.” He mentioned, to Peter’s dismay.

Peter bumped his head into the filing cabinet, groaning aloud. With a kick of his foot, he closed the last drawer and trudged onward. Oh well. The speedster could totally manage. At least he brought mix-tapes to keep his mind occupied. Along with extra tapes stashed in his belt pockets for good measure. Without music, he’d be so outrageously miserable on a mission like this.

Shining the dinky flashlight, he scanned the first floor area one more time. Just to be sure. The flashlight’s glow passed a set of double doors, leading to-

Wait. Back it up a sec. Double doors? Quietly singing New Order’s Blue Monday to himself, Peter moonwalked backwards to observe the doors again. Knitting his brows, he blinked. Stumped.

“Yo. Scotty. Got another room on the first floor. Gonna check it out real quick. Over.” Peter reported, clicking the walkie into place on his belt.

Another echo of thunder rattled through the lab, shaking the floors above. Lightning illuminated the halls in temporary flickers of white. Peter stared at the large set of doors, totally bamboozled. He couldn’t comprehend how he missed them before. When he knew for a fact he checked every nook and cranny. Inching closer, he eyed a sign pasted on one of the doors. In a rough scratch of permanent marker, the sign read:

Reanimation experiments in progress. Do not disturb!!

Reanimation? What, like…of the dead? Pfffbt. No way! Could this spooky place get any spookier? Peter swallowed an uncomfortable wedge in his throat. Shaking off any chills threatening to overtake him, he shined his flashlight through one of the door’s windows. Peter scanned the area for anything useful.

Inside, he clocked an operating table. Close to that, a lone cart cluttered with rusty, surgical tools. Cracked computer screens lined one of the walls, more advanced than they should’ve been. At least for the era they originated. Tangled cables ran along the floor, leading to something in the shadows. Peter couldn’t make it out.

He arched a brow, finally locking his sights on - Aha! Jackpot! More filing cabinets. Hopefully, they held his ticket out of this creepy place. Fingers crossed. Peter burst into the room in a flash, kicking up dust in his wake. Tearing through another wall of cobwebs, he surveyed the area again. Making a mental note of every cabinet he could see. Enough to keep him busy for the next hour, he guessed. Peter slumped his shoulders, huffing an aggravated groan.

Talking to Scott through the entire process made it more bearable. Being so no nonsense and straight forward, Scott had no problem retaining the info Peter shared from every file. Which saved the speedster any hassle of repeating himself, or having to explain things he didn’t understand. Science? Not really Peter's area of expertise. He thought himself more of a tech, or music guy.

Luckily enough, Peter found whatever documents Hank sent him after. A deep dive into every folder, in every drawer, in about a dozen different cabinets were all it took. Had Peter aged another thirty years? He sure as hell felt like it. No sweat! Mission accomplished. Time to bid the old lab goodbye.

Peter flew through the rest of the cabinets in less than a second’s time. Triple checking for any intel Hank might find compelling. He skimmed some records documenting the “reanimation of dead tissue.” Hm. Actually, blue beastie might potentially find that fascinating. “Reanimation” of the dead didn’t exactly sound too commonplace in modern science, did it?

In a folder, Peter discovered a file. Clipped with a photograph of - hellllllllooooo there! Someone…kinda cute. Very cute. Peter whistled, piercing the quiet thrum of distant rain. He read on.

Oh. The cute someone. They died. Tragically perished. Hit by a car back in the 80’s. What a bummer. One of the scientist's brought them to the lab as a test subject. Used for some twisted experiment in reanimation. The kicker? They proved to be the lab’s first and only successful trial run. Of around fifty different, reanimation trials. Yikes. That's...a lotta dead bodies.

These scientists successfully revived the dead? Peter doubted it. Over a decade had passed since then, and no one ever used the technology mentioned in the files. This lab's research couldn’t be as successful as they documented. Or something must've gone wrong, for them to give up and shut down the lab's operation completely.

Yeah. Treating human corpses like science fair projects for school? Super warped. Hank, wacky in his science ventures, totally found macabre shit like that interesting. Shrugging, Peter tucked the manilla folders he gathered under an arm. He grabbed his walkie, and reported to Scott.

“I got somethin’ else Hank might be into. It's totally messed up, he'll love it. But-uh…if that’s all he needed? I’m gonna jet now, ‘kay? I can’t take another minute in this scary ass place. Over and out.”

Before making his leave, Peter glanced around the room one last time. He appeared near the operating table in a picosecond, his brown eyes scanning the cart next to it. Curiously, Peter picked through some rusty, surgical tools.

Upon finding a scalpel in fairly okay condition, he swiped the tool and slipped it inside his back pocket. Whistling to Oingo Boingo's No One Lives Forever - in hindsight, kind of ironic - playing from his Walkman, Peter raised a foot to kick the cart. Watching it roll away into a nearby wall. Hasta la vista.

As Peter steered away from the operating table, a monstrous shadow loomed at the edge of his vision. His heart rampantly pounded in his chest, his senses still high strung. Jumping back with a terrified gasp, Peter climbed halfway onto the operating table. He fumbled for his flashlight, pointing the glow at the massive bundle of darkness. The light shook in Peter’s trembling hand.

But it-...oh. Phew! Nothing to be afraid of. Hah. What the heck was Peter gettin’ riled up for?

Like something straight out of science fiction, Peter’s shadowy monster proved nothing more than a giant pod. He squinted, moving towards it until close enough to observe it more clearly. The tech appeared big enough to hold a person of his size. Or, hell, maybe even someone of Beast’s size. Peter ran a hand along the surface of the pod, gathering a layer of dust on his fingertips. Scowling, he shuddered, wiping the dust on his jeans. “ EUGH! Eck-” Peter exclaimed to no one, “What’s up with this dusty, old thing??” Glass encased the outer layer of the large machine. It might've been see-through, if not for the unsanitary grime blanketing the entire thing. Years upon years of soot build up. Peter tried wiping the dust away with his elbow, to no avail. He couldn’t see inside, even with the aid of his flashlight.

Puzzled, Peter darted around the room in a silver blur, searching for clues. A switch of some kind? A secret code? He tampered with everything from the cracked monitors on the wall, to the colorful cables lining the floor. Peter even tried prying the pod open with a rusty hammer he found. Still, it refused to budge. Even with the power of speedster strength. Was it made of adamantium or something?

Sighing, defeated, Peter tossed the hammer away. It crashed into one of the screens hanging against the wall. Shattering the crystal display upon impact. Whoops. Oh well. How much more damage could be done to the place? Not like anyone would be making renovations anytime soon. Not in the middle of buttfuck nowhere island.

Making an accidental misstep, Peter slipped on his untied shoelaces. His ankle entangled itself in a circle of cables on the floor, and he lost his balance. Tripping, Peter stumbled backwards into some busted machinery, knocking his head. His back collided with the hard, metal surface behind him.

“ Auuugh. Shit.” Peter muttered. He didn’t understand how he could be so goddamn clumsy all the time, given - what the professor called - his mutant gift, “Ow. Dammit.”

He must have triggered a switch when he tripped. Suddenly, a loud hiss seethed through the air like a bus braking to a stop. A slow moving cloud of smoke rose from inside the pod. As it spread, filling the room, the fumes turned radioactive neon in color. It swarmed Peter’s nostrils, overflowing his senses with an earthy scent.

“Uhhh…uh oh.” He mumbled, “Is that supposed to happen?” Acting in haste, Peter scrambled to free his ankle from the cable’s tight grip.

A corpse reanimation research lab.

Nope. Noooope. He’d seen Return of the Living Dead enough times to know - whatever the hell’s happening now? Bad news. Couldn’t be good. Peter suppressed the urge to scream like a frightened child. A buzzing voice chimed from his walkie, startling him further. Dammit all, Scotty! He almost sent Peter into cardiac arrest for a hot second.

“Peter? Hey-uh, are you there? You alright? You didn’t stop somewhere for pancakes again, did you?” Scott crackled through the walkie, but Peter didn’t respond, “Better bring enough back for the whole class.” He joked, sarcastic.

Peter gawked at the sight before him in a mix of horror and confusion. Completely petrified, as Oingo Boingo played through his ear. The neon smoke emitted from the pod began to clear, revealing a body inside. A dead body.

Your dead body, to be specific.

Somehow, Peter recognized you. But that didn’t make any sense at all. He knew for a freakin’ fact he’d never seen or met you a day in his life. Unless… oh. Oh, holy shit. He hurriedly grabbed the extra folder he’d taken and opened it, just to glance between you, and the photo inside. And sure enough… The first and only successful trial run in reanimation.

Oh. Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no. Peter’s eyes blew open wide. His stomach dropped twenty thousand feet through the ground, plummeting to the Earth’s core. Swallowing thickly, he observed your slumbering body from his position on the dirty floor.

Your skin appeared ashier than it naturally should be. Y’know, on account of being dead and all. It more closely resembled a subdued, greenish color. Kinda Frankenstein-esc. Stitches lined each and every one of your limbs. As if some psycho nut job took you apart and sewed you back together again. Judging by the info in your file, they probably did. Embedded into your neck, were two bolts on either side. Also very Frankenstein-esc. You reminded him of a wax dummy on the set of some low-budget, horror flick. It’d be kinda funny, if he didn’t feel seconds away from screaming in horror.

You could be a dummy, if Peter had any luck. Yeah. This mission? Surely just a super elaborate prank set up by the team. Like a haunted house tour, made to scare the silver pants off him. Those sly dogs think they’re so slick, huh? ...R-Right?

Peter took a deep breath, keeping his terrified gaze fixed on you. In his ear, the funky tune came to an end. The lab fell into a deafening silence. Only broken by the faintest pitter patter of rain, and a quiet clamor of thunder now echoing at a distance. Signaling the passing of the storm. One less thing to worry about.

Though, he’d much rather agonize over a building’s foundation crumbling. He could handle a weather-related disaster wayyy better than a zombie coming to life, to - potentially - gorge on his flesh.

Raising his flashlight, he pointed the glow at your lifeless body. Again, Peter breathed a long sigh to ease his panic stricken nerves. An interference of crackling static ripped through the walkie then. Loud, and shrill enough to cut glass. At that very moment, your eyes - once locked in eternal slumber - popped open freakishly wide.

Oh. Oh hellllll no. Fuck that. Fuuuuck that.

Peter’s hunch proved totally right. You weren’t just dead. You were undead.

“ Mmmmmm nope.” Peter mumbled to himself, swiftly shaking his head, “Nuh uh. Nope.”

Shaking with adrenaline, he glanced between your dead-eyed gaze, and his trapped foot. Okay! No problem-o! Not a problem at all. For an X-Man, zombies made an easy foe, right? Peter could totally just-...

Just vamoose! Make a break for it! Right now!

Like, now.

Peter hadn’t run away yet. Why hadn’t he run away? Hellllloooo? Ground control to Quickie! Time to make a quick exit, and head for the hills. Lest he become zombie chow.

Stunned, Peter remained petrified. In an uncannily slow movement, you rose from the pod like Nosferatu out of a coffin. Peter cursed under his breath, willing his terror to take a one way ticket outta there. He needed to come to his senses, and fast. Even as Peter tried to move, his paralyzed state caused him to fumble again. His movements lacked their natural fluidity, and his blood ran cold.

Like a total doofus, in his failed attempt to escape, Peter tangled his foot even deeper through the cables. Sometime in the last thirty seconds or so, he dropped his flashlight. Within the inky darkness, he could barely make out your shape as you moved. You groaned a long, croaky sound. Guttural, like an eldritch abomination.

Another crash of lightning showered your living corpse in a white luster. Peter made direct eye contact with you. A gaze between life and death.

A yell vibrated through his lungs and bounced off the walls of the room, as Peter finally screamed. Your slow moving, zombified body climbed from the pod much like a spider. Stumbling at first, you connected your bare feet with the dirty, tiled floor. Once you found your balance, a cracking sound erupted from your limbs. Your bones clicked and popped audibly into place. Peter scowled, physically cringing.

Another scream tore from the depths of his chest, “SHIT! SHIT! SHIT! SHIT! SHIT!” He shouted.

You dragged your feet in a limp, moving towards Peter with a slow gait. Stitched arms reached out for him in an unhurried motion, “ Luhhhhhhhh- ” You choked on a groggy gurgle.

Fuck. Fucking shit fuck. You definitely wanted to feast on his juicy brains and smooth flesh. No denying that. It had been, like, a decade since you last ate anything. And Peter probably looked like one hell of a snack right about now. Not even in a totally kinky way.

“WOAH, WOAH, WOAH! Hold yer horses there, baby! Yer gettin’ a liiiitttle too close fer comfort now! C’mon, huh? Do you really think I’m on the menu? ‘Cuz trust me. If yer gonna eat somebody? I shouldn’t be yer first choice! I really don’t taste all that great!” Peter yelled, throwing a hand out momentarily before returning to the tangled cables. He huffed an uneasy laugh, “SHIT! Yer not listening, are you? Ahaha! Yer gonna eat me. Totally gonna eat me. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck-”

Peter tore at the cables wrapped around his foot. Acting as quickly as his petrified state would allow, he pulled the scalpel from his back pocket. But the dull razor’s edge refused to cut through the wires. Dropping the useless tool, he ripped into the cables one more time using all his strength. Only to free himself a millisecond too late. Always late. You lurched forward, making grabby hands. 

Quicksilver vs. an actual, real life zombie. If he made it out alive, that’d make one helluva story.

But-

Wait a damn minute. Hold the freakin’ phone. Why were you…looking at him like that?

The glazed over eyes of a living corpse opened up, all big and doe-like. Gazing at Peter in - no mistaking it - infatuated fondness. Your supple lips parted with a wide smile of pure delight. Like sunshine peeking through hazardous, storm clouds. You leapt forward unexpectedly, squeaking a raspy squeal. Burrowing your face into the warmth of Peter’s chest, you linked your arms around his neck. Holding onto him tight.

“What the-” He whispered, looking down at your messy head of hair.

Uh. Okay. So, that just happened. Weird. Why weren’t you feasting on his flesh? Wasn’t he supposed to be your first meal since zombie hibernation, or something? Didn’t you wanna go chomp chomp chomp, and turn his guts into mush?

Peter realized, looking at you up close, you appeared perfectly clean and preserved. You didn’t reek like a dead body. The earthy scent on your cold skin wasn’t too unpleasant either. It smelled herbal. Floral, even. Your smooth skin lacked any signs of rot. Aside from one or two lesions revealing rib or arm bones. Kinda...freakishly cool. The surface of your skin looked see-through, with veins weaving underneath like intricate wiring.

A little spooky, sure. But not all that scary to look at, surprisingly enough. Not like Peter expected, anyway. As you snuggled closer into Peter’s body, he began to realize how oddly affectionate you were. Very out of character, for a zombie. You squeaked an unintelligible noise, attempting to communicate. But you just couldn’t form the words. Maybe your speech capabilities fizzled out after years and years of unending silence.

Peter creased his brows, lowering his defenses and calming himself down. Another thirty seconds passed. His brains remained intact, and you hadn’t made him your next meal. He pulled the earbud from his ear, hooking them around his neck and pressing pause on the Walkman. Craning your neck back, your glassy eyes met Peter’s own. You grinned so big and joyful, gleaming the innocence of a pure-of-heart, golden retriever. Despite being totally bizarre, Peter found your sweetness...sorta...weirdly cute.

“Uhmmm…hi? Hey. Uh-why’re you lookin’ at me like that?” He laughed, a little uneasy.

Maybe your affection stemmed from something simple. If Peter were locked up in a cramped pod for so many years, he’d be ecstatic if someone finally freed him. You were probably just uber thankful he’d broken you outta that pod thingy. And you showed gratitude through touching, since you couldn’t exactly flurry him with thank yous. He could accept that. Sure. For now.

The walkie hanging from his belt droned a buzz, and Scott’s voice called out. Peter finally reached for it, maneuvering between his body and yours. Your arms stayed around his neck, your body hanging like a stubborn monkey’s from a tree.

“Peter? Do you copy? Peter, are you there, man? Talk to us. Please. Should we send someone over to assist?” Scott asked, his voice itching with alarm. “Yeah! Yeah, nah. Uh-hey, Scotty! Hey, I’m here. I’m oka-...dude, it’s fine. Nothin’ to worry about. Seriously. But…I do kinda have a situation here? Over.” Peter replied.

Scott exhaled a relieved sigh on the other end of the line. In the crackling background of the walkie, Peter heard Jean’s voice. She asked, “Did he say over ?” Followed by a series of hushed chuckles. Peter smirked to himself.

“Oh! Oh my god. Thank goodness, Pete. We were all getting pretty worried about you over here. What’s going on? Are you still at the lab? You said there was a situation. What kind of situation? Did that old place finally cave in?” Scott asked. Many, many questions.

Peter heard even more frantic, muffled conversations in the background. While he couldn’t understand them, he recognized the voices. The entire team had gathered, just to make sure he made it out alive. Awww. How sweet. They were worried about lil ol’ him? If Peter hadn’t had the bejesus scared out of him not even five minutes ago, his heart would’ve melted.

“Heyyyy, guys! Uhhhh…soooo…I might’ve found, like, a zombie? No joke. Like, a real zombie. But it’s not tryna kill me. It’s-” Peter paused, raising a brow. You fluttered your lashes, giving him a coquettish look, “Bro, I think it’s makin’ eyes at me. Legit. Kinda weird, right? Definitely not what I was expecting. But it’s totally fine. I got it all under control now. Over.”

A long silence fell amongst the walkie’s noise. Until Scott finally responded in monotone.

“Did we hear you wrong, or did you just say you found a zombie?” He asked, his tone carrying a hint of disbelief. As if expecting Peter to say - Psych! Fooled ya!

Peter parted his lips to confirm. But the abrupt tickle of a chilly kiss on his neck silenced him. You stood up on your bare toes, giggling sweetly. Across his hot skin, you peppered your chapped lips. Instantly, Peter froze in place again. Shudders rang through his body. He reached for one of your arms, tugging you to try and pull you off him.

“Uhm. Y’know what? It’s no big deal. B-But yeah, it’s a zombie fer sure.” Peter tugged your arm with more insistence, urging you to let go. But you persisted, giggling into the crook of his neck, “Like I said. No worries here. It’s not like I’m in da- haaah okayokayokay-”

Your feather light kisses became soft, kitten licks. Flicking Peter’s flesh with your slimy tongue, you squealed, tickled pink. Peter jolted, shivers sizzling down his spine. He tilted his neck to the side, wincing. Over the walkie, he heard Hank’s gruff voice.

“Peter! It’s Hank-” The blue beast said, as if Peter couldn’t already tell based on his growly tone, “Are you a hundred percent sure the undead creature isn’t dangerous?” He asked, buzzing through a scratch of interference.

Coldness slathered and swirled Peter’s neck in slow circles. Fluttering his eyes closed, he replied, “N-Not dangerous. Ohhhh. Definitely not dangerous. No danger here. All good. Over.” Again, he tried to pull you off.

Your discolored arms tightened their hold around his neck and over his shoulders. Cooing noises dripped from your tongue like honey, so sugary sweet. You swiped his skin with your tongue, nuzzling your cold nose into the heated crevice of his neck. Pressing your body closer into his, you squirmed, littering him with zombie kisses.

Peter tensed, apprehensive of your affections. He didn’t want to be too harsh or aggressive towards you. Worried that any sign of conflict might make you snap. For all he knew, you might go bonkers and brain hungry. Really, he should’ve gotten it over with and pushed you away. Before you took things a little too far. And you did. Your teeth sank into his neck, lightly nibbling his flesh. As you pressed yourself even closer into his proximity, your breasts - covered only by a ragged crop top - met the swell of his broad chest. WOOOOOAH! Talk about twisted! Sure, okay, maybe your bites turned him on, like, a little. Flooding his body with a pleasant, all-over shudder of pleasure. But he couldn’t just fold for a zombie, could he? That’d be disgusting!

It’d be gross, right?

A subconscious desire in the recesses of his lonesome mind told him he wanted - no, needed - the attention. He hadn’t been intimate with anyone like this since the pogs fad. Easy, now, Peter! Down, boy.

But…shit. As much as he wanted to give in, he couldn’t. Not for a monster. A living corpse, left cooking in a secluded pod for a decade. Cloaked in discoloration and held together by expertly crafted stitching. Not entirely mindless, but so dense, you hadn’t the forethought to ask - “What happened? Where am I? Who are you?” No. Instead, you went after him the moment you saw him, showering him in bubbly, zombie lovin’.

He…shouldn’t find that hot. His fingers shouldn’t be tightening around the walkie, and his groin shouldn’t feel as scorching as it does. Oh, man. Could Peter be any more doomed? He’d have to be mad desperate - way out of his mind - to reciprocate your affection. Raising the walkie again, he cleared his throat.

“Hiya, Beastie. A-Acutally, I think they-...the zombie really, really likes me.” Peter added for no reason at all. You nibbled him a little harder, and he winced again.

“Well, now! That’s good then, isn’t it? Better than the alternative, I’d say! If at all possible, Peter, you should bring the creature with you. I’d like to look it over. Maybe run some tests. Figure out what brought it to life! This could be the secret to reversing brain death!” Hank chimed, excited.

Peter rolled his eyes. Of course Hank wanted to poke and prod at you like some little, lab rat. He opened his mouth to respond, but choked before he could get a word in. Your dull teeth clamped roughly into his neck. Peter braced a free hand on your hip, his thumb digging into the cool, exposed flesh there. Now, suspicion began to dawn on him.

You could be a clever, little zombie. Capable of luring Peter in with flirtatious wiles and sweet touches. Once he let his guard down, what if you planned on tearing into his guts? Well played, smarty pants zombie. Well played. But Peter caught onto your little game. You couldn’t get anything past him.

Instead of slurping his blood like a 7-Eleven slushie, or ripping your nails into his taut muscles; you suckled his skin lovingly. Pulling tiny hickies into his neck. Squealing and giggling in that girlish fashion, playful with every nibble. Peter gulped, biting his lip between his teeth. No way in hell he allowed a zombie to give him hickies.

…Except he did. So what? No harm in it, right?

“Y-Yeah. Sure. I’m good. Great. Just hangin’ out with my new zombie buddy. It’s totally not gonna eat my brains. Like, zero percent chance I’m gonna die an ugly, zombie death. So, y’know, Beastie, don’t lose any sleep over it.” Peter responded, before following it up with a condescending, “Over.”

On the walkie line, Peter heard a series of groans and faint giggles. Followed by Hank’s voice, as he passed the walkie back to Scott. The X-Men’s laser eyed leader sighed, his tone unamused.

“Whatever, Peter. Just…just hurry up, will you? And bring those documents over for Hank. Thanks.”

Peter tried, and failed to keep his composure. A cutie pie zombie kept macking on him like a lovesick puppy, and he had no clue what to make of it. You sucked more sloppy, violet marks into his neck. Tugging his skin with your teeth and nibbling like you couldn’t get enough of him. Peter’s skin flared up in cold creeps, as you trailed your chilly lips to his shoulder. Pulling his jacket and the collar of his shirt aside, you spoiled him in more undead affection.

“Gotcha. Copy that. Ov- mmm -” Peter whispered a moan, replying with a rushed, “Overandout.”

He clipped the walkie back onto his belt. Attempting once more to pry you off him, Peter gave your arm a strong tug. A little more forceful this time around. As you finally dislodged yourself from his neck, Peter took a few steps back. Avoiding any stray cables on the floor.

Now, with some distance between the two of you, he cleared his throat. Peter brought a hand to his neck, grazing fingers over the love bites you left behind. Tiny splotches of purple pooled with offsets of scarlet. Faint teeth marks left grooves in his skin. He hissed.

Giving you the freedom to pepper him with hickies might not have been the smartest idea. Hopefully, you didn’t infect him with some sick, zombie disease. One with the potential to end humanity as he knew it. He couldn’t cope with the weight of that responsibility on his shoulders.

You gawked up at him with those big, adoring eyes. Excitedly, you squealed, hopping towards him with your eager arms outstretched. Hoping to pull Peter into another close hug, just so you could litter him in more nibbly, love bites. He raised an abrupt hand, maintaining distance. Peter cleared his throat again. His cheeks burned hot, doused in bright pink.

Totally not fair, the way an overly affectionate zombie got him blushing.

“L-Listen. Uh. Yer sweet, but-” Peter started. Subconsciously, his gaze drifted down your body. He observed the stitches sewn into your neck and limbs. His dark chocolate eyes followed the rips and tears in your skimpy shirt. The flimsy garment revealed a tiny peek of your - admittedly pretty - breasts. And Peter swallowed, his throat running dry, “Uhhh…you can’t keep doin’ this, okay? The-” He wiggled his long fingers, gesturing to his neck, “The hickie thing. If yer gonna come with me, we gotta lay down some ground rules. Alright? You get me, babe?”

You tilted your head to the side, blinking slowly. Gazing at Peter with a look that told him you didn’t understand. But you didn’t seem to give a shit either way. You reached for one of his hands, a dazzled smile curling into your lips. Purring a candied noise of affection, you brought his hand to your cheek and nuzzled his palm. Your lips gently kissed each fingertip. Peter pulled a face, knitting his silver brows.

“Why’re you so damn-” He shook his head, “Whatever. Listen. Can you, like, chill out? No biting, you understand?” Peter paused to make a chomping gesture, clicking his teeth. But this only made you giggle. Which, unfortunately, he found super infectious.

Peter chuckled, scoffing playfully, “Stop that! I’m totally serious! No biting. No licking. No kissing. Like this. You see this?” He gestured to the hickies on his neck, their trail leading under his shirt, “No more ‘a that, you feel me? I dunno how I’m gonna explain this to the crew back home. They’re gonna think we got, like, freaky ‘er somethin’. Yeah. Can you imagine that? Like I’d ever fool around with-”

Fluttering your off colored lashes, you tilted your head to the other side. You parted your chapped lips, squealing as you edged his fingertips into your mouth. Pressing the salty pads to your bitter tongue.

“Oh! EUCK! Gross! Don’t-” Peter scowled, jerking his hand from you in less than a millisecond. With a horrified look, he observed his fingers as if they were germ-infested specimens, “Yer a real weird one, babe.”

His guard fell. While Peter kept his perplexed eyes on his fingers, you leapt forward. Burying your face deep into the fabric of his shirt, you squealed. Gleeful and bubbly. Peter groaned, only half-annoyed. He made a move to push you off him again. But your precious, little purring noises changed his mind. Peter couldn’t find it in himself to put his foot down.

Turns out he had a weakness. Cute, overly affectionate zombies. Who woulda thought?

Whatever. Peter had wayyy more important things on his plate. He knew he should gather up those folders he dropped, along with anything else he lost during his freak out session. Once he did, he needed to get the two of you out of this dingy, old lab asap.

“ Mmmmm …n-need…” You hummed your first word, before squealing, “Loooooove~!” Your voice strained, rattling like you’d been pounding down cigarettes by the plenty.

Peter’s eyes widened, and he let his sizeable hands fall to your hips, “Di-...wait a sec, did you just talk? Holy shit! You can talk?” Peter asked, dumbfounded, “Woah! Wow. Uh…so…you got a name? Can you at least tell me yer name?”

Your case file hadn’t listed your name, leaving you reduced to a number. Pretty messed up, if anyone were to ask Peter. Either you still didn’t understand him, or you couldn’t remember your own name. Instead of giving him an answer, you nuzzled your face in his chest. You tittered, so soft and smitten, your ragged voice muffled by the fabric of his shirt. Cold, tiny zombie hands tickled the back of his neck, raking gentle nails down his torso.

Standing on your toes, you connected your cool lips with his neck all over again. You kissed your previous love bites, as if doing so would heal them entirely. Ashamed of himself for letting it happen, Peter stifled a groan.

"Y-...You don't remember yer name, do you?" He mumbled. Peter's strong arms wrapped around your back, pulling you in, "That is...a seriously messed up situation. But, hey, I'm here fer you. Don't worry, 'kay? We'll get you to a safe place, and you can start over there. Sound good?" His caring nature shined through. But male horniness abruptly overshadowed it, as your wet tongue tickled his skin.

A guilty part of him, overrun with sympathy, felt bad for you. Those scientists hadn’t treated you like the victim of an unfortunate accident. More like a toy. Meant to be ripped apart, played with, and abandoned. It seemed wrong to perceive you in a frisky light. But then again…you wanted love. You may as well have been begging for it.

Love. One of the first words you spoke since your undead coma. Not that much of a surprise, if he thought about it. As a science experiment, loneliness probably consumed you. Even before your decade-long slumber. In a way, Peter understood. He too felt haunted by a longing for affection for far, far too long. In his mind, that made the two of you kindred spirits.

Ahhhh …dammit. Peter just couldn’t resist you and your sweet wiles anymore. His self control steadily slipped from his weakened grasp.

“ Mmmmm! Wa-....waaaant…love~! Neeeed… mmm …lo-....love~!” You squeaked, your cold tongue curling over a fresh, purple mark.

“C’mon, baby. We can’t-...you really have to stop this. We gotta head back to base, like, now. Everyone’s waitin’ on me, and I-” Peter muttered, and you pulled back. Gazing at him with that mystified, doe eyed look. Like you saw the beauty of the cosmos in him, and him alone. Your lips sparkled, wet from your lovin’. Peter clutched your hips firmly. His jeans seemed...somehow tighter all of a sudden, “Would ya stop lookin’ at me like that?”

“Looooooove~?” You cooed, your voice taking on a lustrous, but groggy tone.

“Yeah. I know. But…” Peter sighed, letting his hands feel up and down your curvy sides, “Yer gonna get me in soooo much trouble. But, fine. You win, okay? What kinda love are we talkin’ 'bout here, babe? You wanna hug? Want me to-uhm…to plant one on you? Is that it?”

You perked up then. Peter took it as a sign you understood him, more than you let on before. He arched a brow. At this point, why even hold back? Because you were dead? So what! Who ever said zombies couldn’t be smokin’ hot?

If he messed around with you just a little, no one would ever know. Which…made the concept even more enticing. You could be his little secret. An affectionate secret he’d forever bury in the ground. In place of the grave those scientists never gave you.

Peter fluttered his eyes closed, finally giving in to your closeness entirely. Lowering his big hands, he grabbed your ass. His palms squeezed over the torn, booty shorts you wore. Never did he imagine - upon exploring some horror movie, science lab - he’d feel up a cutie pie corpse’s plump bottom by the end. What a way to end a mission. Life worked in some wildly bizarre ways sometimes.

Kissing a zombie? Not as gross as he thought it’d be.

Okay. Maybe for, like, half a second. But the earthy taste on Peter’s lips didn’t faze him much. Once he pushed past the initial ick, he embraced you fully. Peter decided he didn’t give a flying fuck how unsanitary zombie smooches might be. Uncoordinated lip motions lured him in further. Pinkish teeth grazing his bottom lip between kisses. Soon enough, they turned sloppy, and Peter found himself frenching the living dead.

Zombie make out session. An experience he hadn’t planned to check off his bucket list. But now, he could.

One of his hands gripped your ass. While his other held your face and pulled you in for more tongue action. In the midst of swapping spit, you sought every opportune moment to nibble him. Peter couldn’t help but be super into it. You mewled softly, giggling when he gave your booty a hard squeeze. Chuckling, he parted from your lips to look over your greenish face. Your eyes bulged so big and wide, pupils an off-grey color and impossibly huge. Wonderstruck by his very existence. Darting down to capture your lips again, Peter stumbled forward. He guided your body towards the operating table, knocking you into it. Your hips collided with the edge, causing a loud, vibrating clang. The rough motion worried him enough, he stopped sucking face just to confirm you were alright. Peter feverishly kissed your cold lips, his hands exploring your body. Feeling stitched skin under his fingers.

You pulled from him with a joyous squeal, but Peter followed. Confused as to why you stopped, until you dove for the untarnished side of his neck. Dull flats of your teeth chomped straight into his flesh, grinding a little too roughly for comfort. Peter winced with a start, ceasing his love on your bootylicious bottom.

“N-No! Noooo! Hey, baby, look at me.” Peter snapped his fingers to get your attention. Not that he wanted to be so demanding. But you needed to understand his boundaries, before you tore into his flesh and guzzled his blood. Instantly, you reacted, retracting your teeth from his neck. You moved to make eye contact, and Peter fixed you with a soft gaze, “What’d I tell you, huh? Look, it’s not that I can’t appreciate some neckin’. 'Cuz I totally can. And I really dig it. Like, a lot. But you can’t be munchin’ on me! Really freaks me out when you do that.”

You angled your head again, curious. Doe eyes gaped at him with fluttering lashes, innocently confused, “ Mmm. Giv-....Giiiiive…love?” You croaked, pawing at Peter’s chest over his shirt, acting so needy.

He couldn’t begin to understand what you meant, or what you imagined love to be in your head. Were you really so desperate to bite him? Or, were you asking for something else? Wanton, bedroom eyes dawned your pretty face. Plush, ashy lips parting. You pawed his chest again, your blunt nails scraping across his shirt. In your desperation to communicate your-uhm…needs, you jutted your hips forward into his jeans. “L-L…Lo-” You started, throaty voice oozing innocence. Though, the look in your lidded eyes betrayed said innocence, “Loooooove. Need. P-Please?” 

Peter’s eyes popped open, as realization dawned on him. Oh. You meant you needed-... Ah. He understood now. The unreasonably cute, living corpse he found - dormant in a pod for, like, a decade - wanted to bump uglies. Great. Awesome. What the hell was he supposed to do about that? Fulfill your unbridled desire? C’monnnn. Didn’t boning undead cuties come with any moral implications? If he took you to pound town, would that make him a necrophiliac? Peter really didn’t wanna be labeled a necrophiliac.

But hypothetically, what if he admitted his own desperation to himself? He always fumbled every time he tried to step up his game and woo the ladies. Not like he had any game to begin with. And tonight, there you were. Practically begging for him to take you. He should acknowledge the fact that, yeah - no matter how much he tried to pretend otherwise - he found you very hot. So, ludicrously hot. Zombie traits and all.

And regardless of how many times he second guessed himself - at the end of the day - his dick didn’t have any qualms about zombie hanky panky.

Peter’s hand traveled up, thumbs curiously tracing the rough lining of your neck stitches. Before toying with the rusted bolts an inch or two above. Testing if you could even feel it. You didn’t react, and Peter wondered if scientists used those bolts to revive you. Did they awaken you Frankenstein style, with sharp surges of electricity? Or did you come to life by other means? A glowing, reagent liquid, maybe?

Hesitating for a fraction of a second, Peter tugged the front of your loose top down. A pair of off-green, zombie melons jiggled freely. Stitches circled each breast, and Peter may or may not have thought they looked hot as fuck like that. Call him inhumane, but he really dug your whole monstrous babe aesthetic.

His hands kneaded the softest pair of undead knockers he ever felt, making you squirm under his touch. Peter grinned, pleased with every choked squeak leaping off your lips. He flitted his dark gaze up to your face, then back down to your breasts; back and forth, back and forth. Admiring the delicate expressions you made, your precious face scrunched in pleasure.

“Damn. Anyone ever tell you how pretty you are? ‘Specially like this.” Peter chuckled, pinching and twisting your perky nipples, “Bet those bad guys never did. Sucks fer them. Yer a total babe. And sooo fuckin’ cute. Makes me want you all fer myself.”

Sooooo…about your…cooch situation. Yeah. Uh…Peter might’ve been somewhat worried about that. Taking your condition into consideration, he felt himself overcome with hesitance. Fearful that your-uh…flower, so to speak, may have withered away after a decade of darkness.

What about diseases? The thought made Peter squeamish. Even though you appeared and smelled relatively clean, you still hadn’t showered in a long freakin’ time. Then again, protection existed. Not to mention, you were so, so needy and cute. Your body looked undeniably amazing, and felt so soft. Fuck it. With some reluctance, Peter willed himself to test the waters. For your sake, but also for his own. Just to make up for the years he spent wishing he could get laid again.

A win-win for you both.

Tugging your tiny shorts down your smooth thighs - finding a little struggle along the way, since the meat of your thighs proved an obstacle - Peter snuck his fingers under the hem of your worn panties. The millisecond before his fingers met the supple curtains of your pussy, he second guessed himself for the zillionth time. Peter’s subconscious doubt pestered him enough, he almost withdrew his hand completely.

But the precious whimper you made gave him enough encouragement to keep going. His thick digits cautiously braved forbidden, undead territory. Finding an overabundance of cool, silky wetness between your lips. Peter swallowed hard, knitting his brows as he scoured for your clit.

“Jesus, baby.” He muttered. Judging by your bubbly squeak of delight, Peter assumed he found what he’d been venturing for. Leaning slightly forward into your proximity, Peter circled your stiff, little nub, “You want it bad, don’t you?”

“G-...G-....Gooooood! Mo-....More? More!” You mewled, clenching fists into his shirt. Mindlessly, you canted your hips, seeking his crotch. “Hey, it’s whatever you want, pretty.” He mused with a smirk, voice tender, “Relaaaax. I gotcha. I gotcha. ”

His fingers drew downwards, teasing for a beat before cruising into your silken entrance. Lush, deathly cold walls welcomed his digits in a loving hug. Beckoning Peter to sink them in deeper. You held his shirt like a lifeline, moaning an angelic, rattle of a noise. Pulling you closer into his warm body, Peter lowered his head to your shoulder. Thin strands of silver hair tickled your cheek. His thick fingers curled, hooking into a cushiony spot inside you. Your near-empty eyes saw hot flashes of light.

“L-LOOOVE~!” You whimpered through hitched cries.

“Mhm?” Peter laughed, impishly nibbling his lip, “Feel that lovin’? Feels good, doesn’t it, baby?”

Keeping you distracted for a temporary moment, Peter dotted your neck in warm kisses. Subtly easing his fingers in and out of your velvet pussy at a quicker pace. Your knees buckled, trembling the faster he moved. Until his motions became brutal. With a perfect curl, speedy digits rammed repeatedly into that spongy spot you loved. Your sugary sweet, unintelligible whines rose in volume, as your sticky, little, zombie cunt quivered.

You gnawed powerful bites as you came, your teeth digging into Peter’s neck. But this time, he allowed it. He forced himself to muscle through the pain, holding your shuddering body close, “ Shhhh. Shhh. It’s cool, baby. It’s - ahh - it’s cool. That's it.” He cooed with a careful tone, stroking the back of your head and threading fingers through your ragged hair.

Easing his fingers from your cunt, he double checked the digits, making sure nothing seemed off. Your release felt thicker and stickier than any living person’s, but didn’t have much of a scent. While usually he looooved to taste the aftermath of a total cutie’s orgasm, Peter opted not to. Sure, your wetness didn’t appear radioactive or hazardous. But the thought of guzzling zombie honey put him off a little bit.

“G-....Goood?” You ogled Peter with half-lidded, glassy eyes, your lips parting in an irresistible giggle.

Peter bit his tongue. Alright. Maybe he…could give it a shot. Just this once. Zombie love liquor couldn’t be deadly or anything, could it? Disease-ridden, maybe. But Peter knew a hyper-intelligent doctor who could whip up a cure for most ailments. Guess it didn’t matter anymore. By the time Peter second guessed himself yet again, he’d already sucked his fingers clean. A bitter thickness lingered on his taste buds. Peter salivated at the thought of drinking down more.

“ Mmmm … mhm …not bad.” He chuckled, lips humming around his fingers, "I'd go fer seconds." He added with a wink, making you laugh.

Yikes. If Hank only knew how reckless Peter acted in the presence of some zombified cutie. He’d lock him up in the infirmary and run a thousand tests on him. Just to make damn sure Peter hadn’t contracted anything lethal.

Politely pushing you off him, Peter turned his head. He double checked the perimeter for any signs of life, despite the lab being totally desolate. Hopefully Summers hadn’t sent anyone after him, since the speedster took way too long returning to base. Unbuttoning his jeans, he pulled his hard length from the fly. Almost immediately, you gasped in elation. Tickled squeals danced on your discolored tongue. Thick, and flushed a dark scarlet, Peter’s cock throbbed in his hand.

"I'm guessin' you like what you see?" He snickered, giving his dick a firm stroke, "I like what I'm seein' too...if you couldn't tell." Every word Peter said, every charming smile he gave, seemed to attract you considerably. Drawing more kittenish giggles from you.

With your freezing, zombie mitts, you ungracefully reached for him. Cold fingers squeezed his cock, stroking in a clumsy motion. Peter drew in a sharp breath, the cool sensation of your hands arousing his nerves. Even if your hand to gland combat lacked any skill, it felt damn awesome to be touched like this again. He stepped forward, his giant hands grabbing your hips. You played with him as much as your little, unbeating heart desired. Tugging his burning hardness with an overzealous grip.

You tried lowering yourself to the floor, your mouth falling open, tongue gliding over your lip. But Peter instinctively stopped you. His hands darted to your shoulders, pulling you into a standing position. He preferred if you didn’t take your biting addiction downstairs. Visitations of the oral variety were closed to any undead visitors. At least, for right now.

“Y’know, I don’t usually like goin’ all the way on the first date.” He spoke, fishing his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans, “Like, call me an old soul 'er whatever.” Peter worked quickly, pulling a condom out of his wallet. He slipped the latex over his length, “But I can make an exception. Just fer you, cutie. But this stays between us, yeah?”

You nodded, pushing yourself up onto the dusty, operating table. Peter cringed, curling his lip out of concern for you. This couldn’t be sanitary. Dragging his attention from the filth under your bottom, you parted your knees. With your body angled backwards, you pointed eagerly at your panty-clad pussy. Soaked and dripping under the thin fabric. Peter’s breath hitched.

“Looooooove~? M-Ma…make?” You cooed, scooting a little off the edge of the table. As if tempting him to give in and fuck you already, you wiggled your ass. Like a beautiful, monstrous display of stitches and postmortem skin. All for the speedster's taking.

"I-I mean-uh...sure. If you really want me to. What kinda guy would I be to turn you down?" He awkwardly joked, fighting his nerves.

Peter pushed a strong hand against your inner thigh. Warm on your deathly cold flesh. He pulled your thin panties to the side, teasing your glossy slit with the head of his cock. You whimpered, cute noises bubbling in the back of your throat. Edging you for a beat more, he slid the teary eyed tip over your clit. Before sinking his length through your walls. Inch by pulsating inch, he bottomed out in a flash, tip kissing your cervix.

“ Wohhhhh, fuck.” He groaned. A new kind of coolness enveloped his cock, plushy and soft. Hooking your stitched legs over Peter’s shoulders, you tilted your body. Inviting him to submerge as deeply as your tight cunt would allow, “Oh, baby…yer so-...ah, fuuuuck. ”

"G……..Goo-......Gooood~!" You whimpered, squeezing your eyes shut. Your strangled voice erupted in a mantra of lustful squeals.

By some act of divine intervention, Peter could feel the swollen, unyielding lusciousness of your pussy. Walls wringing his cock, like you wanted to suck him dry of everything he had. He swiftly rutted into your cunt, hard enough to make you bounce against the table. Peter’s sluggish eyes followed your breasts as they bobbed. Titties jiggling with such a soft, sexy whirl; He felt his cock twitch inside you.

Leaning down, Peter loomed over you, the rough fabrics of his clothes sliding along your bare skin. He kissed you tenderly, a little heedless. In the midst of fondling your precious, stitched breasts, Peter's hot palm curiously pressed against your chest. Feeling...nothing. No heartbeat, no blood flow. A little spooked, he refocused his attention. Playing with your bouncing, zombie titties again.

"Feels so-...you feel so good, holy fuck -" He moaned, his voice catching in his throat, "So pretty. L- ah ...love how tight you are." Playfully, Peter lost himself in the moment. He pulled a nipple between his teeth, suckling one of your Frankenstein tits, "Loooove these zombie boobies. Hah -oooohhh, shit-"

Lying in slumber for a decade must have left you majorly sensitive. In just a few more, aggressive, bunny humps; you came again. Hypnotic delight burst through your core, pushing you to the point of tears. Your pussy fluttered, sticky wetness gushing around his cock. Reaching up to link your arms around his neck, you clawed little etchings into his skin.

“M-Mmmmmooore~! More, mmm- ...more~!!” You pleaded, coaxing Peter to drill you with all the energy he carried. Not to toot his own horn, but - little did you know - he harbored enough energy for a hundred men. And then some.

"You w- fuck -want more? Want more, baby? God, yer gonna make me-" His voice wavered between moans, "G-Gonna make me lose it-"

Peter’s mischievous eyes met yours, as you gave him that doe eyed look he couldn’t fucking resist. Sharp jabs of his cock sped to a blur, slamming into your cunt in a brutal display of his strength. Keeping himself balanced, hands pressed to the table on either side of you; Peter showed no mercy. Abusing your precious, syrupy walls with a ruthless pace. But not fast enough that he’d tear his means of protection. A harsh surge of heavenly pain flared up inside you, as he tore into your pussy and bashed your cervix.

"LOOOOOVE~! Ah~! Peeeetur~!" In a moment of post orgasmic clarity, you called his name. Slurred, and barely recognizable. How'd you even know? Had you picked it up from his walkie conversations? Damn, his zombie buddy's more perceptive than he thought. Peter snickered, finding your pronunciation ridiculous. But the cute, needy sound of his name on your lips triggered something.

" ’Mgonnacum- ” Peter whined, his brutal pace more inconsistent and sloppy, “Gonna-...feels too good o h fuck oh fuCK -” 

A pearly white burst of thick heat stuffed the latex of the condom full, threatening to make it pop. Burying his nose deep in the crook of your neck, Peter moaned. Guttural whines ripped from his chest, drying his throat. Panting - not from exhaustion, but overstimulation - Peter loosened his muscles. In mellow, post nut bliss, he almost overlooked the sizzle of static buzzing from his walkie.

“Peter? Peter, answer me right now. So help me god. Everyone’s worried sick about you! Do you read me? Peter, I said, do you read me? Please!” Scott pleaded through a mix of agitation and genuine distress.

 Peter drew out a long, hard groan. Pushing himself up a little, he fumbled lazily for his walkie. A sluggish grin curled into his dimples, as he nibbled his lip and winked down at you. His eyes half lidded and hanging heavy.

 “Mmmm…’M fine. ‘M fine. ‘M fine.” He chuckled, overcompensating for himself. He knew he’d be in mega trouble with the crew by this point, “It’s all-uh…all good. Jeez, Summers. Did ya think I was dead ‘er somethin’? Haha…” Peter drolled, his tone slower than usual. He withdrew his softening cock from inside you, watching while you squirmed. On your back, you appeared a blissful, fucked out mess. Ultimately satisfied. Mission accomplished, “Don’t worry so much, bro. I was only takin’ my new, zombie buddy out to-uh…tooooooo…an arcade. Yeah. An arcade.”

On the other end of the line, a silence fell. Peter filled it with an, “O-Over.” to compensate again.

 “...You took the zombie…to an arcade?” Scott responded, an edge of irritated disbelief in his tone, “Peter, are you out of your damn mind? Do you not realize how much of a risk that is? I can’t even-...your priority for this mission was to retrieve those documents for Hank. Doesn’t it seem irresponsible to be dragging an unknown, undead creature around a public place? I can’t even believe you!” He heard Scott scoff, “Now, will you please return already with those documents? We’re all waiting on you. Bring the zombie too.”

“Uhhh…yeah. Sorry ‘bout that. Dunno what came over me. Sure. Okie dokes. Lemme, uh-” Peter spoke, playfully fighting you off. You reached for his neck, trying to pull him back down for post-sex cuddles, “Lemme grab ‘em. They’re goin’ hog wild with skee-ball right now. Crazy, right? They scored, like, sooooo many points. You should see all the tickets we got, man. We could totally get one ‘a those jumbo prizes. Say, Scotty, do you want, like, a giant Mighty Mouse?”

“Maximoff.” Scott replied sternly, without a beat of hesitation. His frustration oozed through the speakers, and Peter could feel guilt itching at his conscience.

In the background, Peter overheard someone - though he couldn’t guess who - mutter a, “Is Mighty Mouse even a thing anymore?” Oh. Once Peter returned, he’d be in for it. Royally fucked. Figuratively, and, thankfully, literally. In the short, momentary instance of silence between walkie communication; Peter disposed of the condom and straightened himself out. He disappeared for a millisecond, snatching a fresh towel from some luxury bath shop all the way in Paris. Dousing the cloth in warm water, he wiped you clean upon his ultra speedy arrival. Before helping you redress, making you look…somewhat presentable. 

“Fine. I totally get it, okay? Look, man. I’m sorry. But can ya really blame me fer wantin' to hang after the experience I just had? Doesn’t matter. Be there in a flash. M-Maybe don’t tell Hank, though. If you can hel-” Peter rambled sheepishly, slinging the towel over his shoulder. He stepped backwards, extending a hand for you to take. 

“Pietro Maximoff, I am beside myself with you!” Hank started, clearly agitated, cutting Peter off.

Peter groaned, mumbling quietly to himself as you took his hand, “He told Hank. He did it. He fuckin’ told him. Shit. I’m so fucked. I’m so, so fucked.” In a motion to guide you off the operating table, Peter pulled you forward by your hand.

“I have several questions. Why would you bring an undead creature to an arcade? What were your motivations behind taking the creature out, on a recreational activity? The potential danger or damage to the arcade and its patrons is far too high. And, furthermore, Peter, is there any scientific value to observing a zombie around arcade equipment? I understand you have this insatiable need to act out, but this is ridiculous! It is our duty, as members of the X-Men, to protect humanity from all threats. Including potential zombie related incidents at public arcades. Now then, please return the specimen immediately for further observation.” Hank ranted on and on and on and on-

A noise, like fabric tearing, cut uncomfortably through the air. Weak stitching around your elbow ripped loose, and Peter pulled your forearm clean off. Hank’s tirade met an abrupt end, as a blood curdling scream rocked the entire room. “Peter? Peter?? What’s happened? Peter, are you alright?” Hank panicked over the walkie.

Past the edge of terrified, shocked to the point of nearly pissing himself; Peter screamed. He wiggled his hand, trying to let go of your lone arm. But your hand held his tightly, your grip refusing to ease up. Once he finally freed himself, he expected your arm to drop to the floor. But your little fingers moved, crawling like spider legs. A zombie’s dislodged arm creeped up Peter’s shoulder over his jacket. Some real, Evil Dead kinda shit. He smacked at it, shouting like a housewife frightened by a mere mouse.

“YEAH!I’mfineI’mgreatI’mawesomesorryit’snothing.” Peter responded, rushed and unclear, “O-Over?” He cringed, scowling as you hopped off the operating table to retrieve your missing arm.

“...Pardon?” Hank asked, tone puzzled. Peter swallowed, shuddering while you pulled your freakish, deadite arm off his shoulder, “Are you…sure you’re alright, Peter? What’s going on? You’ve been acting awful strange tonight. Is there something on your mind?”

A lot. Peter had so much on his mind. Like, the totally real fact that he boned an undead, Frankenstein babe, for one.

“Uhm. It’s-...it’s nothing. Seriously, don’t even worry, Beastie. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Just-uhm…lab’s still-...there was some thunder, and the building-uh-” Peter nervously rambled, struggling to find his words, “Over.”

Another pause drew out long enough for Peter to realize his mistake. He cursed, smacking himself on the side of the head. How could he be scatterbrained, to forget his own lies in a matter of seconds? He had a feeling, deep in his gut; Hank would rip him a new one tonight once he got back. “...The lab? Peter…didn’t you just tell us you were at an arcade?” Hank asked, reasonably suspicious.

Peter’s voice broke as he replied, “I mEAN-” He cleared his throat, “Uhhh-...heh. I-I ran back! Forgot-uh...there was somethin’ I forgot. Like I said, doesn’t matter. I’m totally fine! I’m juuust peachy! Hang tight. I’ll be right there. Over and out.” Peter took a second to collect himself, clipping his walkie to his belt. He silenced the device, ignoring any further questions from Hank. Subconsciously, Peter took a step back as you reached for him again. His veins vibrated with a buzz of adrenaline. With your arm dismembered, you moved abruptly forward. Nuzzling your face into Peter’s chest, the same way you had all night. Still just as smitten with him. Groggy purrs rumbled in your throat.

Rolling his eyes, Peter patted your head, smoothing out your ragged, messy hair, “What am I gonna do with you? Yer nothin’ but trouble, y’know that?” He teased, pinching one of your cold cheeks, “Whaddya say we get outta here already? But I gotta make a couple ‘a pit stops. And you gotta behave yerself. Don’t get any funny ideas about eatin’ anybody.” Peter wrapped an arm around your waist, holding you close. Pointing at you with an accusatory finger. 

You tilted your head, confused again. Peter really couldn’t get enough of that cute, clueless look. Hank and Scott had no idea what they were talkin’ about. His zombie buddy? Totally harmless. You’d never even hurt a fly.

Okay. First order of business. Find a Mighty Mouse plush, just to really sell his arcade story. After that, he planned on snatching you some nicer clothes. Anything to protect your modesty. Thirdly, Peter wanted to teach himself some gnarly makeup tricks. Cover up his hickies. Yeah. No sweat! He could do all that in a flash.

Oh. And late night pancakes. Peter refused to skimp out on those. He’d been craving them all night, and his body desperately needed to replenish its energy. Surely, the gang back home wouldn’t mind. After everything, they totally wouldn’t be supremely pissed and fed up with Peter’s bullshit. And the waitress serving at whatever diner he picked? She wouldn’t bat an eye at some undead, zombified customer, would she?

Why's he even kidding himself?

Gathering Hank’s files, Peter tucked them under his arm. He zipped around in search of whatever other knick-knacks he lost, including his fallen flashlight. Stepping towards you, Peter brought his earbuds to your ears. He exchanged the tape in his Walkman for another, aiming to keep you entertained with music while he traveled at superspeed. As soon as the tune graced your ears, you leapt in place. Squeaking a surprise chirp. Your shoulders bunched, and you darted your hazy eyes around.

“Hey, easy, easy-” Peter reassured, cranking the volume down low so you could still hear him, “It’s just music, baby. It’s nice, right? You like it? You like-uh…you like the Monster Mash? Crypt Kickers? Bobby Pickett?” He gestured with his hands, suggestively raising his brows, “We had a graveyard smash, didn't we, eh?” You simply stared at him, clueless as usual. Huffing, Peter pressed a kiss to your forehead, “Seriously. What am I gonna do with you?”

You clutched your dislodged arm tight, cradling the appendage close. Throwing a quick glance your way, Peter shook his head. He pulled his goggles over his eyes, and braced a warm hand at the back of your neck. The few seconds before he took off, he leaned in close. Hearing that Halloween melody playing from the earphones you wore, he quietly sang along.

As much as he liked cuddling ‘Ro on Halloween, horror movie nights; A new idea crossed his mind. He might just snuggle up on the couch with someone special this year. 

[headingalaxys-spicy]

I was wondering if we could get a scenario with Canada, Japan and Russia where their darling is freakishly strong, like maybe they’re short in height but aren’t petite and love lifting and stuff. maybe they sneak up behind them and they managed to throw them over making them stunned. thank you !!! <33333

Oooooooh, late-night posting to keep the sadness away haha.

Canada 

While being wrapped in his little world, thinking about what he wants to make for dinner, what chores he has to do….

Matthew failed to notice your footsteps quickly approaching him. You pounced on his shoulders as if they were a balancing beam before completing a flip and landing in front of him. 

“Ta-Da! Hey, Mattie~” The glee in your eyes that you got to showcase your talents. The shimmer in Matthews made all of your training worth it. 

“Hey, Y/N. How are you, eh?” 

“Great, just came from my gymnastics class ready to go home and then maybe ….(insert another hobby you have). Then pass out. But I’m still kinda pumped up & still have a lot of energy to burn so I might just walk around the town then go home.” 

“Maybe I should accompany you. It will be dark soon & you shouldn’t be by yourself.” 

“That sounds like a great idea! Come on, Matthew! It’s the golden hour right now, and I just thought of this awesome sightseeing spot you’d want to check out. It’s on top of this massive hill!” 

You sweep him off his feet and sonic speed yourself to the spot that you are ecstatic to show him. 

“Whoa! Y/N YOU’RE REALLY STRONG! But PLEASE SLOW DOWN EH!!!” 

‘But also, how in the world did she get strong like my brother but much smaller?!?!?’ He’ll wonder what kind of gymnastic classes turn humans into muscular beasts. 

Japan

While gathering his latest manga, sweets, & bottled teas he wanted to devour for the night, Kiku felt a strange disturbance in the distance. He could feel it in the pit of his stomach. 

‘Or am I just hungry ? After all, I haven’t eaten since this morning. Work has prevented me from getting in any delicious meals. Packaged ramen isn’t cutting it like it used to.’ Kiku readied his Yen as he placed his items on the counter so he could check out. Once he left the convenience store, he could hear his stomach let out a loud growl along with a light shock that-

Kiku suddenly felt his body be tossed into the cool evening air. ‘Ah, so my instincts were right. I’m going to die tonight.’ That thought dissipated in the chilly breeze when he landed in your arms. You gently set him down as you expertly caught his manga in one hand and his packaged dango and pocky in the other. Lastly, you caught all three bottles of his unsweetened oolong tea on top of your head, all of which were neatly stacked on one another. 

“Y/N what in ze world are you doring? And rike when the hell did you become that strong??? What, are you a super strong anime girl or something?” 

You laugh at his shock as you place all his things back in his bag. 

“No, I just miss you. It’s been forever since we last hung out. Wanna go grab some soba, sushi, or something? My treat! Also I’ll carry you on my back because you totally look like you’re going to pass out.” 

“Yeah, Y/N that doesn’t sound rike a bad idea.” His stomach growled in agreement. 

Russia 

The rough breeze of the coming winter storm blew in his face roughly and bristled his beige-blonde hair. He was used to the cold that bit into his bones. His violet eyes took in the chambray-colored sky, quickly transitioning to a darkened grey sky. The clouds were thick like mashed potatoes as they encroached on the sky, ready to bring in the first snow of winter. 

As he continued to wander throughout the city aimlessly….

Until you surprise bear-hugged him from behind. The sudden shot of warmth heating up his chilled bones. He also took note of your extremely tight grip. 

“Ah, Hello Y/N nice to see you this afternoon.” 

“Hey, Ivan how are you doing?” 

“Fine, I’m just roaming around before winter sets in and I won’t be able to be outside as much.” 

“Well want to see a few tricks I can do before the ground is completely covered in snow?” 

“Of course.” He adored the many ways you liked to try and entertain him so he wasn’t always so consumed by his soul-crushing job, which isolated him most of the time. 

You started your little routine by backing away and doing a cartwheel. Then, you suddenly paused in your tracks to hold up a ten-second handstand. From there, you transitioned into a forearm balance before flipping over and landing into the perfect splits. Ivan simply watched your little routine in awe. You were flexible and strong. 

“And for my finishing move!” You sprinted back to him and bear-hugged him once more. 

“Do you trust me, Ivan?” You say with a wide smile. 

“Yes?” Unsure of what you were about to do. You picked him up with ease and tossed him five feet into the air. 

“Ah! Y/N!?” You surprised someone as small as you had this type of strength. 

He plopped back down into your strong arms & almost immediately let his huge arms around your neck. 

“Okay. Y/N I was not expecting that.” He was shaky from your surprise. 

“I know.” You giggle. “Let's go get some vodka to calm your nerves.” You skip off with him as Ivan's much larger body is firmly in your smaller one.

[t00thpasteface]

I love ur art so much, you inspire me to draw and every time you post a drawing I want to draw something too. The only reason I started posting mash fan art is because of you lol. Your art style is so cool also, it’s so dynamic and shapey! I started using your art as reference for how I draw Hawkeye, although I try not to make it too similar because I don’t wanna rip you off! 😂 I stole the way you use orangish / tan as the background color for your art tho. No shame

It’s 4:46 AM and I’m very sleep deprived, idk if any of this is making sense

I just think you’re real cool haha. You’re my favorite artist in the mash fandom

WHAT AN HONOR!!!!! thank you SO MUCH for this ask!!! spreading joy and inspiration through art is really the most wonderful feeling in the world, and i hope you get that very same feeling in return from sharing your own work with others!!

TB-perfectly-H... (⁠*⁠﹏⁠*⁠;⁠) i don't know how i'm anyone's favorite mash artist when easily 95% of my mash art is my stupid little rarepair... i don't consider my stuff to be all that groundbreaking and it's certainly not very edgy, but i have a lot of fun drawing and posting it regardless, and i guess all these wonderful connections i've been making are proof that the fun is what matters most!

[moontearpensfic]

My Five Favorite Fics

Thank you for tagging me, @perhaps-sunlight! 😍💕 From your anon/for context:

"Self-rec time! What are your favorite five fics that you've written and why? After replying to this ask, feel free to pass on to five other writers to spread the love. 💗"

Okay, soooo, I'm just gonna focus on my Tomarry fics because, haha, my writing for other fandoms is SO OLD. Also, this will be a mix of WIPs/complete.

Pledged (WIP)

Probably a surprise to no one, but legit my favorite fic to work on. I like the mystery I've been building, the worldbuilding, just... THEM. Timeline mash-up where the boys attend school together, are best friends, bound their magic together like two idiots, and there's a tournament. Very plot-y if you're in the mood for it, and they are very tactile/involved.

7 (WIP)

My favorite Tomarry trope ever is Harry raising Tom, especially if he goes back in time and does it. After I read WHGTB, I knew I had to write Tomarry to do my own take on this trope, and I started with random scenes from 7. The way the story bounces between the past and the present, and having them parallel, is my favorite part of this fic. That, and bby Tom. 🥰

Still Into You (WIP)

In this timeline mash-up "murder mystery," Tom stalks Harry, and he is so deranged, and I am just, like, so in love with it. The way I've styled/structured the story is fun to write, and their dynamic is just. 😍 Plus, this fic gives me an excuse to write a lot of smut, lmao.

Love, Murder, Horcrux (One-shot)

I wanted to write a fic where Minister for Magic Tom turned his husband, Harry, into a Horcrux. The way this one-shot turned out was great to me, because I made a last second decision to weave the "After" and "Before," and it was well-received. I wrote this to return to a more fucked-up traditional Tomarry, and yeah. Happy sigh, haha.

In Our Bed of Ink (One-shot)

Canon diversion where Harry gets the diary instead, and he gets sucked into it. I wrote this for @kagariasuha for Secret Santa, and MAN, I struggled at first. I just knew I wanted something with Diary!Tom and CoS to match a journal I bought her. It went through five story stages (not editing). Where it finally landed on just always has me 💕💕💕. I am very satisfied with how it turned out. 😌

Okay, I am tagging @duplicitywrites, @mosiva, @aglassroseneverfades, @itsevanffs, and @crowcrowcrowthing! (To echo Ailora, no pressure. 😌💕)

[majorbaby]

some early and candid thoughts on MASH: The Comedy that Changed Television

I thought Gary Burghoff had the most illuminating commentary to offer. he was specific, technical and detailed when recounting how the show was constructed, a style of media commentary that caters to my preferences. he has one comment that really stuck with me as a strong descriptor of the Radar character (paraphrase from memory): they needed a character who was experiencing the concept of war for the first time, for whom you could see the

after Burghoff, I thought Jamie Farr had some interesting things to say re: Margaret - 'she contains multitudes' being one of them, and a recurring theme when everyone was speaking about the character

i have to talk about mike farrell's comment on anti-war vs. anti-military: i've talked about how I feel that the post-reynolds/gelbart years have heavily watered-down messaging re: war before, and i've pointed to several episodes where i feel this is obvious, but mike farrell saying (quite strongly) that he felt the show was anti-war but never anti-military is pretty damning evidence.

i mean, i think this is good characterization for BJ, to take a more, let's call it 'broadly', anti-war stance, rather than be opposed specifically to military, particularly to the US military. it fits with his aspirations to live a quiet, middle-class life, with his insistence that he's always done 'the right thing' and imo, a good motivation for him to butt heads with the more radical Hawkeye, who opposes authority figures in general (per Alan Alda himself in this same special) - which actually goes beyond the military...

so i love it for BJ but i hate it for a show that never framed him as being wrong about that idea specifically. i can't say for sure whether BJ always held Farrell's beliefs of course, or vice versa, but if BJ ever did oppose the military as a system, Farrell doesn't know it. this knowledge makes episodes like Preventative Medicine and Back Pay land even worse with me.

'some of us were IN the military' he added, as a justification for his point that the show could not have been anti-establishment which i would speak on even more candidly if i was going to make this unrebloggable lol. but truly it's not that serious except in terms of how i think about the themes of this show - he seems like a perfectly lovely person who really loved making MASH and i think his fans will enjoy watching him speak about that.

Mclean Stevenson makes a point about how what Radar anticipates about a character tells us something about that character beyond what we would receive if we just heard the character say it themselves (which they usually do, at the same time as Radar) - I need to think about this some more when re-watching those scenes...

dlfkjaljfk I've never heard David Ogden Stiers' natural voice I thought someone was giving commentary over footage of him and then i realized he was actually giving the commentary - I feel like everyone knows this, but he was immensely talented, a master of voice and speech

1 hour and 10 minutes (including ads, or 'commercial breaks' as we used to call them back in my day) spent on seasons 1-3. tbf there's character-specific commentary in the first half that is for characters that were with us for the whole run, but, there's also a lot of time devoted to talking about how the show was initially constructed, the pilot being good (correct), and something that made me smirk - Larry Gelbart's commentary on how people were incensed and outraged at Henry's death and felt they had been misled, lied to, about their funny haha, wholesome weeknight comedy (set in the Korean War???) is almost indistinguishable from how people talk about plots they don't like in media nowadays

it was good! i had fun!

[ghawst37]

An explanation to camuroland the shipname: "犬炎"

Although I do supposed that at this point everyone just used to "camuroland" as their official ship name. But as part of the eastern side of the shipdom, mashing their names together should be taken it with some extra steps, for the sake of self-indulgance haha.

So I propose a side one that is "犬炎"

I included it in the template that I posted as sort of a teaser. But I feel like it deserves a bit of an explanation, as a bit of an apreciation for kuso en translation(?) team, just on some parts. (spoilers, Camu's deserve to be praised, Roland however, was a miss. Kuso, how you have fell off.)

Camu: Crocotta in chinese/original is 卡穆 · 狂犬 And Roland: Flambeau is 罗兰 · 戏炎 What's super interesting to me is that their frame's name does not change in the japanese version (Camu is カム · 狂犬, Roland is ロラン · 戏炎) "But, you don't know chinese, how are you gonna make any of this work," well I'm Vietnamese, and I can use transliteration to aid me. And trust me it helped me understand these two on a much deeper level. In that vietnamese guy we trust, always :D

Their names are simple, "卡穆" and "罗兰" are simply "Camu" and "Roland" in chinese dialect. The fun part is in their frames' name.

Camu goes first. And I would like to say that the direct translation for his frame's name is so insulting because why are they calling our boy a "rabid dog"?? Although that's the thing, it's really what "狂犬" means. "狂犬" in romaji is "kuángquǎn", and in Vietnamese transliteration is "cuồng khuyển." And to my other vietnamese people, I agree this sounds a lot better than calling him "chó dại" haha. "Cuồng" is basically to describe something wild and uncontrollable, you can use it to describe a natural disaster as well as a person, in some cases. Pretty much means "crazy," but unlike "rabid" that's mostly only used on an animal. "Khuyển" is pretty much an untamed dog. This is when I have to brought this up because I had issues with this too, specifically the differences between "cẩu" and "khuyển," as both of these words are to refer to a dog. A "cẩu" is a domesticated dog, a house pet. Obedient and behave nicely to its master. And a "khuyển" is a masterless dog, barks and bite and misbehave and uh yeah.... has rabies (this came clear to me from a lil comedic story that I came across explaning exactly just that haha.) At the same time, it's used in a very insulting manner, to refer to a lowly, pathetic dog. Now I think I understood whoever made Camu's frame see of him. SMH But to my knowledge, "masterless dog" can also be used to refer to wild dogs, namely hyenas. Which is absolutely interesting, because it's believed that hyenas were the animal that inspired the legend of the creature "Crocotta." I think the english translation team deserves some credit for this one 0)-(

Roland on the other hand, is surfacely the less intersting when first roughly translated during his debut in the cn server.

"戏炎" in romaji is "xìyán", and that is "hí diễm" or "hí viêm" (either way has a nice ring to the ears.) During Roland's debut his frame's name was translated to "theatrical flame", which is so much better than what the direct translation gave me (because "play inflamation" sounds like... absolutely nothing.) This is worth pointing out at least imho, using "戏", in romaji and transliteration is "hí", translated to theaters is pretty shallow in terms of meaning. To put it simply, it's not just any general theater, it belongs to the combination "戏曲", "xìqǔ" or chinese traditional opera, Peking opera is what it's more widely known currently. Now I'm not here to give a history lesson on something I'm not very well-versed, but for what Roland does, consider to what Peking is with its combination of story telling, singing, dancing, martial arts and acrobatic performance, I don't think the theater they refer Roland to is "just western theater," the good ol we all familiar with. Especially with the martial arts and acrobatic performance, for what Roland is capable of (or consider his battle performance), he exceed just being some reality show performer. That's traditional art. Albeit Roland is referenced (quite heavily) on a Frankish knight, that's very much just a title, much like his role on the stage. It's always better to consider him as someone more than just his role. And that is where the localization and translation team failed to make justice of what his name could have been, or if only someone could have point it out earlier. "Hỏa" ("火") means literally fire, but "viêm" ("炎") is a blaze (literally two fire syllables on top of each other.) It can also be use as an adjective to describe heat in some cases. "Flambeau" is pretty much a torch, even much less meaning than "theatrical flame", but it gave me this idea that said flame is being contained within an object and/or a place. Although it's not even flame, but an even much larger fire. (A friend after hearing me telling them all this said that it felt like a very symbolic fire, it could be seen as Roland's passion for the art of performance, which I very much agree. It burn hot and bright but it also contains him, imprisoned him almost.)

That's a long dissecting section, so what does that leave us with? Well, I tried all combination with each syllables including ones from their names, and only the combination of "犬" and "炎" sounds the less cringe (haha) ("chaotic opera" "狂戏" could've worked if only 狂 isn't a very fitting adjective for 戏) If i respect the shipping community rule of name position (top's name at the front, bottom's at the back) then that gives us "犬炎". But personally, it's doesn't matter, the Vietnamese transliteration left me with "khuyển diễm" but I'll fw "viêm khuyển" as well.

Còn với những người anh em đồng hương của tôi, con ship này cũng có tên việt, là "Sói Lửa" (camuroland can be very international)

And with the usual english speaker, my friend have suggested "Blazing Canine" and I happily approve of the idea (it's so much better than my "hot dog".....)

And with that I would like to conclude my TED talk. Thank you anyone who reached this point (❁´◡`❁) I hope it gave you something, or wasted your time in a enjoyable way haha /gets kicked off stage

//And if anyone is like "why does Roland get such a long analyzation for his part," here's a diet one for Camu. While Roland's chinese name is just a dialect of his name ("ro-ran") Camu's does has a meaning but it's on its own is so good and I'm not sure if anyone has point this out yet, and I frankly don't think it would be very fair if i take Roland's frame name just to combine it with Camu's name. "卡穆", romaji "kǎmù", Vietnamese transliteration "khải mặc" (or in any case of you stubborn people like, fine "ca mặc", it doesn't change the meaning) means "a silent protection." Consider he always has us play where's Waldo, he's really just at the flank and back protecting everyone on his own in denser punishing zone, it's rather fitting. And it's not that he doesn't complain, it's just that whenever he does and curse at Roland hahaha

[stillfrownyclownlol]

Fucking...ship alphabet crap because I'm gonna go insane- (Ashlyn x Aiden)

Aiden Clark

A = Affection

Aiden is really affectionate with Ash, he has a hard time keeping in how he feels about her so he's constantly complimenting her, touching her, kissing her if she will let him, etc etc. He's just soooo in love with her he can't keep it in- 🫠

B = Best Friend

Ngl Aiden was like the closest thing Ash had to a best friend before they started dating 🤡 he's not that different besides the fact that he can keep his emotions a little more in check (like friend boundaries). Very protective, encouraging, and does his best to listen ^_^

C = Cuddles

Bless him he is touch starved and cuddling is like a feast to him. He LOVES cuddling. Definitely clingy and likes rubbing her arms or back. Man ascends whenever Ash glomps him.

D = Domestic

Aiden likes the idea of settling down, he would like to live with Ash at some point, especially cuz he grew up in an empty house. It's kinda unfortunate since he sucks really hard at domestic tasks 💀 he's never had to cook or clean a day in his life and he's not very inclined to learn lmao. He's super messy and pretty much banned from the kitchen 😭

E = Ending

Um he would literally rather die 🫠 he will fight tooth and nail to be with her and if he HAD to break up with her it would be like, under pressure that somebody was going to kill her or smth 😭 and then he'd kill the person who threatened her and go get his girl back.

F = Fiancé

He doesn't really care about getting married as long as Ash stays with him :P He likes how his ring looks on her finger tho.

G = Gentle

He's not very good at that haha. He's very...um, intense with all his feelings oop- He's not very good at being soft (verbally/emotionally) in the moment, it's something he needs to give thought too. He can be pretty tender physically tho, likes to kiss her forehead :)

H = Hugs

Loves loves loves hugging, especially if Ash initiated. Totally into squeeze hugging and lifting her off her feet. He kinda hovers around her in public and puts his arm around her so he's constantly "loose hugging" her.

I = I love you

He said it pretty quickly. He doesn't see why he should hide how he feels :p. He probably said it when she was just doing smth, like with no buildup or anything. It was just a very sudden feeling on his part and he vocalised it right away

J = Jealousy

Pretty consistently 🤡 he has attachment issues can you blame him? 😭 (you can). Very not cool with other people (that he doesn't know) talking, touching, hanging out with Ash and he will be hate-watching them the entire time. With Ash he gets a lot clingier and starts complimenting her even more, but if Ash gets weirded out/annoyed by it he tends to react pretty poorly and can get upset with her.

K = Kisses

His kisses vary, but they can be kinda aggressive/intense? lmao. He is just having BIG FEELINGS and he needs to express himself- if hes stressed he'll just. Grab her face and mash their mouths together (jumpscares Ash fr) He really does not care where he kisses Ash like everything is good for him, but when Ash kisses him first on the mouth that's soooo... he goes to heaven fr.

L = Little Ones

Pretty good with children actually! He has some experience with Lily and he vibes pretty well with kid energy, especially if they're hyperactive like him lol. Great with games and stuff. Babies like him a lot for some reason, they always start laughing when he holds them.

M = Morning

He gets up at like 4am all the time to do crap because he's an insomniac. Usually goes to exercise or play a video game/puzzle. Ash is not a morning person, but sometimes she can convince him to crawl back into bed and snuggle 😌

N = Night

He does go to bed really late 💀 He has an EXTREMELY hard time falling asleep so he just stays up till he passes out. Ash and him have been trying stuff to help him sleep better so they drink tea and talk to each other without looking at their phones.

O = Open

Absolutely not open with his history lol. he pretty much blocks out most of his past and he won't talk about it unless Ash insists or he feels like he needs to tell her to clarify his feelings. Doesnt say more than he needs to.

P = Patience

He has none for everything 🤡 he hates waiting, he hates putting in a lot of effort into something, he hates spending a long time on anything- (except his friends). He kinda has some hidden anger issues, he looks really easy going but like fr. He has problems.

Q = Quizzes

UM it's kinda creepy how much he remembers about Ash 😭 He has an entire space in his brain dedicated to her. He knows how she likes her coffee, her daily schedule, the exact time of her birth...he likes knowing about her sue him.

R = Remember

It's hard to pick his favourite memory cuz he's such a fan of her, even during the time she kinda hated him :> One of his top moments would probably be when she first said "I love you" back to him though.

S = Security

He's soooooo overprotective, the first time he saw her get seriously injured it was his fault and he never let that go. He knows Ash can handle herself but he still wants to keep her safe if he can!!! If somebody hurts her they are never seeing the light of day again ^_^ He always swoons a little when Ash tries to protect him too.

T = Try

His relationships are like one of the only things he actually puts effort in so. He spends a lot of time thinking on gifts, what they can do on dates, etc etc if it involves Ash. Helps her around the house if she lets him.

U = Ugly

He has sooooo many bad habits. He's super addict prone and his BPD means he will do a lot of self-sestructive stuff. Smoker (he hates it), drinker (he hates it even more), joyrider extraordinaire (just kill him now) :/ Working on it at his therapy sessions but he relapses sometimes.

V = Vanity

...I mean, he's concerned about how he looks, but not in a "looking good" way. He dyes his hair consistently because he wants to look like that, same with his contacts. Otherwise he's not like doing beauty routines for his skin or anything lol.

W = Whole

Yes he has an unhealthy attachment to Ash so he would feel incomplete without her 🫠

X = Xtra

Ash isn't his first 'relationship' but she is the first one where he actually felt something. He was pretty easy going so if somebody asked him to be their partner he almost always said yes, but he never seriously cared about any of them...🫠 Ghosted people a lot when he moved oop

Y = Yuck

He knows he has a lot of issues so like he's not gonna judge somebody a lot if they have their own vices. He would probably dislike if Ash started acting like himself lmao (you hate somebody because they reflect the worst parts of yourself) 🫠 For smth she actually does, he doesn't really like how cold she can be sometimes, but he knows she can't help it so he doesn't comment on it.

Z = ZZZ

Sleeps with like 4 different blankets and he doesn't really like wearing pyjamas, he'd sleep in his boxers if he could. The blankets are like, good texture stim on his skin :D

Ashlyn Banner

A = Affection

Not good with it let's be real. Still figuring out her boundaries and what she's comfortable with. She generally just let's Aiden set the pace and if she doesn't like it she'll say something, but it's rare for her to initiate, when she does its usually something lowkey like holding his hand (prefers physical over verbal).

B = Best Friend

Ash hasn't had friends. Ever. Until suddenly she got five that she got bonded to for life 🤡 As a bestie she is generally very loyal and protective, even if she isn't very good with emotional stuff, she tries to show her support in whatever way she can.

C = Cuddles

Not really something she thinks about a lot? She doesn't mind cuddling with Aiden but he is very touchy so she gets overstimulated quickly. She prefers just lying on top of him without him grabbing her.

D = Domestic

She always imagined living by herself so the idea is a little intimidating ngl, but she's ready to give it a shot when the time comes :> Good at household chores, her parents are ex-military so she's well disciplined with making the bed, cleaning her area of the house, and she's a decent cook. Trying to teach Aiden how to do his own chores to since nobody ever taught him.

E = Ending

She would end things if she felt like Aiden wasn't getting better, she can't keep letting his bad behavior slide her entire life. Could see them getting a divorce if they had a kid together and he was still acting like that (we hope not). Definitely the type of exes to still see each other though, he's nothing if not persistent, and she can't quite seem to quit him ^_^"

F = Fiancée

She didn't even think she'd ever get married lol. She doesn't really care about labeling their relationship like that but she did ask him for tax reasons. And he was happy too, so that's a plus :>

G = Gentle

She's said it herself, she's not good at that. She's generally pretty brash with Aiden and she has a hard time being vulnerable. She's also not a very physically gentle person either, she usually initiates contact if she's stressed/upset so it's kinda intense. She's working on it!

H = Hugs

Pretty rare, she doesn't mind if Aiden hugs her, but Jesus, sometimes it feels like he's going to break her ribs 💀 Not that her hugs are much better tho 🫠 Tends to bury her face in his shoulder and grab his hair.

I = I love you

It's soooooo hard for her omg. She can't explain why she just feels really weird/dumb saying it 😭 she usually only says it during the heat of the moment. To compromise with Aiden, she usually writes it down on a sticky note and gives it to him. Writing is easier.

J = Jealousy

Sometimes the autism rejection sensitivity flares up haha 🫠 she's waaaaaay less jealous than Aiden but sometimes she wonders if she's just a passing fancy to him because he's so intense and quick about it (before reminding herself hes loyal to a fault). If other people talk about it (like if Aiden has been spending a lot of time with somebody) she's more likely to get jealous since she will kinda internalize their thoughts (like very "what...? Do you think I *should* be jealous?")

K = Kisses

Supremely awkward. Doesn't understand what she's supposed to do with her mouth aldhlwhd. She likes kissing his cheek because its a very simple gesture and he gets very happy. Will combust if Aiden kisses her forehead ❤️

L = Little Ones

Not the besttttt...she generally finds children to be too emotional and she doesn't understand what they're feeling. Babies are scary to her, they're so...delicate...

She doesn't hate them or anything but she's not volunteering to babysit.

M = Morning

She is CRANKY when she gets up and you can't talk to her before her cup of coffee or she's going to bite your head off. When she gets to sleep in she's waaaaay more affectionate in bed, grabs onto Aiden so he won't leave :p

N = Night

Night owl, which is useful since Aiden has trouble sleeping. She'll keep him company until he can fall asleep, but usually she falls asleep on his shoulder or smth and Aiden has to take her to bed ^_^

O = Open

Not at all. Doesn't like revealing more about herself than necessary :> She only tells Aiden things if he asks her about it. They're both very closed off which is great combo 💀

P = Patience

She's more patient than Aiden, but that isn't saying much. She gets irritated very easily but she's a lot better at managing her emotions so she doesn't lose her temper very easily, even if she's constantly annoyed.

Q = Quizzes

She's not forgetful or anything about Aiden but it's also not something she thinks about a lot. Like if somebody asked her smth about him she'll just answer it without thinking and be surprised with herself lol.

R = Remember

She just likes spending time with him, they don't have to do anything grand or amazing for it to stay in her memory, her favourite moments are the little things. Aiden genuinely laughing/smiling, the look on his face right before he figures out a puzzle, the calluses on his fingertips when she holds his hand...she's actually very sappy :>

S = Security

She is overprotective because. She watched him die. And she's just like that. But she constantly feels like she's failing him since Aiden gets hurt so frequently. Protective in a more subtle way, like if she thinks he's going to spiral she locks his meds away and won't leave him alone for anything. She gets stressed out when he tries to protect her because he can go overboard :p

T = Try

She tries so hard you guys. All of this is VERY new and scary for her, so. Baby steps. Tries to do her part in the relationship; she likes the act of planning dates even if choosing what to do stresses her out, tries to surprise him because she knows he loves that a lot (she's not very good at it).

U = Ugly

Bad habits: Sometimes everything is a lot so she will just. Not communicate with him for a long time which freaks him out. (Like he doesn't do this too 🫠) Hard time talking about her feelings and sometimes relies on the gang to solve their misunderstanding. Sometimes doesn't know where to draw the line and can be too harsh on him.

V = Vanity

Only her hair. She's very careful with it. Otherwise she doesn't care at all.

W = Whole

She's kinda bonded to him for life cuz of all the trauma so yeah she wouldn't feel "whole" without Aiden, but she would handle it a lot better than he would.

X = Xtra

Talks to Taylor about her relationship problems; Tay thinks she just has bad taste 🤡

Y = Yuck

Really hates all of Aiden's bad habits (the self destructive stuff, his own apathy towards himself, how obsessive he is with her)

Z = ZZZ

When she becomes comfortable sleeping with somebody on the same bed, she'll let her hair loose, otherwise she's gonna keep the braids.

[justagalwhowrites]

Someone New: Part of For You - A Collection of Requests Benefitting Palestine

Joel is new to Jackson and his family is eager to play matchmaker.

Event Terms: Commissioners could choose to donate between $15 and $50 via Ko-Fi for one fic of 1-2k words. Payment due after completion of the fic. Donation with a match by the author paid to PCRF upon completion. Commissioners had the option to choose to keep a fic private and all fics may not be shared here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female OC Ashley (NOT a reader insert)

Warnings: Smut :D Unprotected P in V sex. Daddy kink. Age gap (Joel is 56, Ashley is 40.) Light Dom!Joel and Sub!FOC. No use of Y/N. 18+ Only MINORS DNI

Length: 3.6k

For You Masterlist | Full Masterlist | AO3

A/N: Written as a request by the lovely @ashleyfilm! She requested "Jackson era Joel from the tv show, so Pedro, and me (Ashley, plus size, I’m 40, I have black hair and glasses, my eyes are blue green with some hazel, I have tattoos, I’m short. A little goth, wear all black where it’s possible in an apocalypse haha) in this scenario I have a cool exterior and I’m independent by nature, but when you get to know me I’m funny and loving, but keep to myself. Joel and I would both like each other but have no clue, while Tommy, Maria and Ellie would all know and roll their eyes at us, try and talk sense into us. Eventually we come together and I’d love some smut. Some daddy soft dom Joel, I’m sub, the only time I want to be told what to do is during sex. I like giving pussies a pronoun so like she likes it and her if you know what I mean. And some fluff would be nice too." Shared with permission. I hope you all enjoy!!

Tommy was starting to drive Joel insane. 

It had taken some adjustment, coming to Jackson. 

There was the adjustment of being back around other people at all, for starters. There was the adjustment to being a father again. There was the adjustment of being in a place he cared about, one where he wanted to contribute instead of forced to to keep FEDRA’s boot off his neck. 

It had been a lot to swallow and, not that anyone was asking, he thought he’d done a damn good job of it. Ellie was happy, going to school every day and making friends. He had his ways to play his part in the community. 

So what if he was doing it all on his own? It’s not like it’s a crime to keep to yourself, he wasn’t sure why Tommy kept trying to push him further than he wanted to go. 

He doubted it was because Ashley was asking him to.

Ashley, the woman Tommy kept damn near throwing him toward at every opportunity. Ashley, who was years too young for him to even be thinking about the way he did. Ashley, whose plush curves and bright eyes had caught his attention from the moment he met her, even as she kept her distance from Joel and, it seemed, just about everyone else in Jackson. 

It didn’t matter how much Joel would enjoy things being different, that the little time he’d spent with her had been some of his favorite since coming here. She wasn’t interested - couldn’t be interested - and he wasn’t about to force it. 

Tommy, it seemed, had other ideas. 

“I’m not sure why you won’t just see if she wants to go,” Tommy said one night as they sat in the mess hall for dinner. “What’s the harm?” 

“Don’t particularly feel like gettin’ shot down,” Joel replied, taking a bite of his mashed potatoes. “Got enough goin’ on without worrying about that, too.” 

“Worrying about what?” Maria asked, taking her spot next to Tommy. Joel resisted the urge to roll his eyes, knowing he was about to be outnumbered. 

“Joel won’t ask Ashley to the dance on Saturday,” Tommy smirked a little. “He’s convinced she’d say no…” 

“Who would say no to what?” Ellie joined them, too, sitting next to Joel. 

“Ashley to Joel and the dance, apparently,” Maria said, giving Ellie a knowing look. 

“Oh shit,” Ellie’s eyes went a little wide. “They’d be so cute together, Joel pretending to be a person who actually does something besides be grumpy…” 

“OK you tryin’ to get yourself grounded?” Joel asked, brows raised. Ellie rolled her eyes. “Because it sure seems like it. And I don’t need y’all match making for me. I am doin’ just fine without worrying about all of that. Leave it.” 

Ellie and Maria gave each other a knowing look that Joel was about to call them on when Tommy distracted him. 

“You’re going to the dance Saturday anyway, right?” He asked. “Just because you’re too chicken shit to bring a date doesn’t mean you should sit it out. It’s a big party, the whole town will be there, you should at least come by for a few drinks. You’ll miss out if you don’t.” 

“Yeah, I want to go!” Ellie said, turning to Joel and pouting a little. “You’re really going to make me go all by myself?” 

“I’ll go to the dance,” Joel sighed before looking between the others and gesturing between them with the fork. “S’long as you three are done meddling.” 

“We’ll behave,” Ellie smirked a little. “I promise.” 

Joel shouldn’t have believed them. He should have known better. 

But that didn’t make him any less surprised when he showed up to the dance Saturday evening and looked for Tommy and Maria, only to find them sitting with Ashley, her dark hair styled to pair with the black dress that seemed like it was made to highlight her every soft curve, curves that Joel had spent hours dreaming about exploring with his hands and mouth. 

He was going to strangle Tommy. 

“Joel!” His brother called, waving him over, as if Joel would have missed him. “Over here!” 

“C’mon old man,” Ellie teased. “Stop being such a fucking coward.” 

“We’re talking about your language later,” he muttered, letting Ellie lead him to the table, hoping that no one had put too much pressure on Ashley to put her in this position. 

“Well look who decided to join the party,” Tommy smirked. Joel ground his teeth. “Ashley, you know my brother Joel.” 

“I do,” she gave him a cool, tight smile and took a sip of her drink, looking back out toward the dance floor. 

“Hi,” Joel said before feeling like a bit of an idiot and pulling his eyes from her to turn back to his brother. “How are you Tommy, Maria?” 

“Oh, we’re good,” Maria smiled a little, looking more like Tommy than Joel thought was appropriate. He wondered if married couples started looking alike before too long. 

“Just peachy,” Tommy said as a new song started. “Oh would you look at that, I need to dance with my wife. Maria?” 

He offered her his hand and she smiled wider before taking it, giving Joel a meaningful look before being led onto the dance floor by her husband. 

“Oh, I think I see Dina,” Ellie said before clapping Joel on the back and leaving him there, alone with Ashley, before he had the chance to argue. 

Joel just stood there, awkwardly, trying not to stare at her, his hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans. 

“So,” he said eventually. “Um… that seat taken?” 

She looked at him, brows raised. 

“Just by your brother.” 

“Right,” he said, taking it anyway. She looked back toward the dance floor and Joel looked her over while he had the chance, how the darkness of her clothes seemed to suit her, the sharp intelligence behind her glasses, the beauty of the tattoos he could see on her exposed skin. He wondered what each of them meant, wondered what it would be like to take his time tracing over each one. 

“So,” she turned her attention back to Joel. “Liking Jackson so far? Been here… what, a few months now?” 

“Yeah,” Joel nodded. “S’good. Different than where I’ve been for a while but that’s a good thing. Ellie likes it, all that really matters.” 

She nodded slowly, taking another sip of her drink. 

“Seems like she’s a good kid,” she said. “Sure got a mouth on her, though.” 

“Yeah,” Joel laughed, leaning his elbows onto the table. “She’s somethin’ else. I tried telling her she needs to watch her language, this ain’t the QZ.” 

“That’s a hell of an adjustment,” she smiled a little and damn, Joel really liked to see her smile. More than he’d liked seeing a woman smile in… he wasn’t sure how long. “Trust me, I know.” 

“You spent some time in a QZ?” He asked, brows raised. 

She nodded, taking a final sip of her cocktail. 

“Portland,” she said. “I was there at the beginning. One night, I was sneaking liquor at industry night at my favorite club, the next it’s a war zone. Got used to it after a while, though. You were in Boston with Tommy, right?” 

“I was,” Joel nodded. “Took us a while to work our way there but found it eventually.” 

“And you both ended up all the way out here.” 

“Suppose so,” Joel said. He nodded to her empty glass. “Can I get you another?” 

“Yeah,” she smiled. “That’d be nice.” 

He went to the bar and got them both a drink before rejoining her at the table. 

Joel was surprised at how much he liked talking with her. For how much time he’d spent thinking about her and looking at her, he hadn’t spent much time actually talking with her. She wasn’t what he’d expected. 

Where he’d always known her to be a bit distant and cool, he was starting to realize that, as soon as he was past the caution she seemed to approach the world with, she was really very warm and loving, thoughtful and kind. They talked about music, about what they missed about before, the quirks of life in Jackson after living in a QZ. 

By the time Joel got her onto the dance floor, he was ready to get her home. And he was starting to think she wanted the same. 

“Can I walk you home?” Joel asked as the Tipsy Bison was almost empty and he wasn’t able to come up with any more excuses to stay. 

“You can,” she smiled. “But… I think I’d rather you walk me to yours.” 

He smiled back. 

“Think that can be arranged.” 

Joel draped his arm over her shoulders and the two of them walked slowly through the dark town, the streets quiet and the stars bright. 

“Well,” Joel said as they came to his front walk. “This is me. Still want to come in?” 

“Yeah,” Ashley nodded. “Yeah, I really do.” 

He smiled. 

“Good.” 

He took her hand and led her to his door. 

But things shifted as they made it inside. Joel tilted her face up, finding the right angle, thumb brushing her lips, waiting for her to make a move. 

But she didn’t. Her breaths got quicker, her eyes searched his and, after a moment, he felt like he couldn’t wait anymore. 

“I’m gonna kiss you,” he said. “Because it’s all I’ve been thinkin’ about doing for a while.” 

She just nodded quickly and he kissed her, covering her mouth with his. 

It had been a while since Joel had kissed anyone, even longer since it was a first kiss. But Joel could tell this was different, something special. It was like an electric current ran over his skin, sparking at where your lips met and shooting out through the rest of him. There was a sharp, sudden pang of need deep inside him, the drive to be closer to her, as close as he could reach. More than that, he wanted to know that she was safe, cared for. That she had what she needed and what she wanted because he was giving it to her. 

“Joel,” she breathed as they separated, just enough for him to look in those blue green eyes of hers. “Will you take me to bed?” 

“Yeah baby,” he said, want seeping into his voice. “Yeah, I will.” 

He kissed her again, his hands sliding down from her face to her arms to her waist, moving her toward the stairs as he did. He only pulled away from her when they needed to go up to his room, not wanting to stop touching her for even a few moments, his skin almost aching as he watched the round shape of her ass in her black skirt going upstairs ahead of him. 

Joel pulled her back against him at the top of the stairs, the few seconds she was apart from him too much. Her arms stretched up and went around his neck and his hands roamed over her back and sides, luxuriating in just how soft she felt, how he could find places on her that seemed made for him to hold. He guided her to his room, kicking the door shut behind him. He slid his hands back up her body over her arms, his callused fingers slipping over her soft skin. 

“You gonna let me make you feel good, pretty girl?” He asked, voice dark and low. “Because I want to touch every damn inch of you.” 

“Please, Joel,” she whispered, her fingers tightening desperately on his curls at the nape of his neck. “Please, I want you, I need you, I…” 

“Shhh,” he hushed her. “Don’t worry about a thing. Just let Daddy take care of you.” 

He kissed her again and found the zipper on her dress, sliding it down, down, down, until he could slide the straps down her arms and let the fabric fall to the floor. 

“Fuck,” he breathed, his eyes ranging over Ashley’s body, tracing over her curves and tattoos. “You are the most beautiful damn thing I’ve ever seen.” 

He reached around and unhooked her bra, sliding the straps down her arms and dropping it to the floor before cupping her breasts, the fullness of her so soft below his touch that he couldn’t help but groan. 

“You gonna let me take care of you, baby girl?” He asked, voice husky. “You need me to take care of you, don’t you?” 

He wasn’t entirely sure why he said it but something inside him just knew, he could sense it in her. That she wanted someone to guide her, someone she could trust to take charge and give her what she needed.

He could tell by the way she nodded that he was right. 

Joel guided her down onto the bed before pulling his shirt and casting it aside. His eyes ranged over her body as he took his jeans and underwear off, too, his cock already thick and achingly hard. He worked himself, not able to stop himself as he drank her in, memorizing her. 

“Want you to touch yourself for me,” he said, stepping closer to the bed. “Spread those pretty legs, put your hand in your panties, show me how you like to touch yourself.” 

She took a hesitant, shaky breath and slid her hand down her body before slipping them below the fabric, stretching it tight over her pussy for a moment before her hand dipped lower. He could see the outline of her fingers clearly, watched with his mouth watering as they stroked her pussy lips before slipping inside. 

“There you go, baby girl,” he groaned, stroking his cock in time with her fingers. “You just keep on doin’ that for me.” 

He moved to the bed and she frowned as he reached out, looping his fingers around the waistband of her panties to start tugging them down. His eyes moved from her face, down her body to where her pussy lay just below the fabric. Her fingers were still. 

“I tell you to stop?” He asked. She groaned and he saw her fingers start to move again. “That’s my good girl. Want your pussy all nice and wet and full when I see her the first time.” 

He pulled her underwear down slowly, revealing her wet slit with two of her fingers buried deep inside herself as he did.

“Oh, there she is,” he breathed, casting her panties aside. “Fuck, such a pretty little pussy ain’t she?” 

Ashley just moaned, thrusting her fingers deeper. Joel licked his lips, desperate for a taste of her. 

“Spread her open for me, baby,” he said, spreading her legs wide and settling between them. “Lemme see.” 

Her hands trembled as she slid her fingers from her dripping entrance and delicately opened herself to him. 

“Fuck me,” Joel groaned, taking a thumb and brushing it over her tight little hole before trailing it up to her swollen nub. “Gonna take a lot before she can take me. Don’t worry baby, I’ll take care of you.” 

He pressed his mouth to her entrance, just a kiss at first, a taste of her musky sweetness. His thumb stayed against her clit, rubbing her in slow and gentle circles as he dipped is tongue inside of her. 

Joel started slow, easing her into it. His tongue worked deeper, his thumb harder. Eventually, he added a finger, then two, starting to stretch her open as her hips canted up against his face, her legs squirming, delicious moans and gasps pouring from her lips. He looped an arm around her thigh to hold her still, pulling her leg against the side of his head and leaving his nose to work her clit as his hand splayed wide on her plush thigh. 

“Fuck, I’m going to come,” her back was arched, fingers wound tight in his quilt. “I’m coming, I’m coming Daddy, I’m coming!” 

He smiled against her as he ate her through her orgasm, pressing his aching cock down into the bed as he felt her pussy flutter over his tongue. 

When her climax eased, he pulled himself from her tight, wet heat and rose to his knees, stroking his dripping length as she came back down to earth. He nudged her legs apart and down, leaving her fully exposed to him. He ran his fingers over her slit, gathering her wetness and bringing it to his cock as she looked at him, her eyes a little wide. 

“Is…” she swallowed, hard. “Is that going to fit inside me? I don’t know if that’s going to fit…” 

“It’ll fit, baby girl,” he said, working himself as he lined himself up with her entrance. “You can take it, so nice and wet for me. You just relax and let me inside you.” 

He pressed his cock against her tight center, moaning and just how hot and wet and fucking soft she felt. He watched, almost obsessed, as she opened to take him, the stretch almost obscene as he saw himself start to disappear into her body. 

“See baby?” He panted as he sank just the first few inches of him into her cunt. “You can take it, taking it so good for me. She stretches so fuckin’ pretty for me, so goddamn pretty.” 

Her hands flew to his biceps as he leaned over her, pressing himself deeper, her fingers scrambling over his muscle as he worked her open. Joel fought to think of anything but the fact that he was almost fully inside the woman he’d been longing for for weeks now. He couldn’t come too quick, he couldn’t let this end now. He had to take his time, had to feel her come around him. 

And then he was buried inside her to the root, the entirety of him in the entirety of her, her walls stretching to hold him. 

“There you go,” he praised her. He splayed his hand wide over her thick, soft lower stomach, pressing into her skin as his thumb slid down to her clit and started stroking it. “Did so good, taking me so well. You ever been this stretched baby?” 

“No daddy,” her nails dug into his arm. “Feels so good…” 

“Good girl,” he said, working her clit a little harder. She moaned and rocked her hips against him. “Aw, does someone need to be fucked? Someone need me to make her come?” 

“Yes,” she pleaded. “Please, please, please Daddy, please, I need to come, I need…” 

“I’ve got you baby,” he said, leaning over her and kissing her deeply, the taste of her mouth mixing with the taste of her pussy that lingered on his tongue. “Gonna make you come so hard for me.” 

He pulled back before thrusting forward, hard and fast and making her gasp, her hands flying from his arms to his back. But he stopped her, taking hold of her arms and pinning them over her head with one of his large hands. 

“You can use those when I tell you,” he said. “Right now, need you focused on taking,” he pulled back and thrust back in quickly. “This.” He did it again, fucking into her hard and fast. “Cock.” He did it one last time before grinding himself deep. “Tell me when you’re about to come.” 

He picked up his pace then, fucking into her deep and firm, grinding his hips down against her clit, feeling how her breasts moved against him as he forced her walls apart with each heavy stroke. 

Joel didn’t let up, too lost in her and just how damn good she felt to do anything else. He wasn’t even sure how long he’d been fucking her - just that it wasn’t long enough - when her breathy, desperate voice broke through the lust-driven haze of his mind. 

“I’m gonna come,” she keened, her pussy to tight around him that it almost hurt. “Gonna come, I’m gonna come Daddy, please…” 

He freed her hands then and she gasped, her fingers immediately finding the broad expanse of his back. Joel took her face in his hands and looked into those eyes of hers, unlike anything else he’d ever seen as he felt how her body took his. 

“Good girl,” he said, breathless and needy, too. “Come for me, come all over my cock, that’s it, so good for me…” 

The chorus of praise continued until she cried out, her whole body seizing as her channel gripped him so tight he was almost afraid it would force him out. But he held himself deep inside her, kissing her as she moaned into his mouth as she throbbed around him. His orgasm took hold, amazed for the half second he was aware enough to think that he’d been able to hold off this long, emptying himself deep inside of her. 

“Fuck,” she moaned, panting for breath as they both came down from their shared high. Joel had all but collapsed on top of her and he adjusted, pulling himself gently from her body and feeling their combined spend leaking from her as he did. He lay beside her and she turned to look at him. “That… I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything like that.” 

He smiled a little. 

“Me either.” 

She smiled back. 

“I think we’ll have to do that again sometime,” she said. 

“Only if you let me take you out first,” Joel said. “Don’t think I can get enough of you in bed. Think I’m gonna need as much as you’ll let me have outside it, too.” 

Ashley reached out and carded her fingers through his thick, shaggy curls. 

“I think we can make that work.” 

[brokenjere]

details (j.f)(pt.3)

a/n: hey guys, sorry it's been a minute. just trying to figure out life right now haha but it's here! sorry for the wait!!

Thanksgiving, last year

I was sitting on the couch with my feet on the coffee table and a book in my hand when Conrad walked in. He leaned against the door jam with his hands in his pocket and I’m pretty sure he was watching me for a while before finally speaking up, but when he did, he had a smile on his face. “What are you doing hiding in here?” 

I held up my book for him to see the cover. I don’t think he read it, just nodded and started walking toward me. “I’m not hiding,” I said. “Just getting out of the way.” When Susannah was in the kitchen, everyone was just a waste of space. If you weren’t chopping or peeling, you had to go and I was doing neither. 

“Where’s Jere? He wasn’t in the kitchen.” I close my book with a bookmark and set it aside. 

“He’s probably upstairs,” I told him. Conrad lifted up my legs by my ankles and sat down next to me, putting my legs on his lap. His hands rested on my thighs. “I think he’s a little overwhelmed with everything that’s going on.” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” He scoffed and I shook my head. Of course, he didn’t know what I meant because he was never around anymore. He didn’t see all the stuff that Jeremiah did every day. He wouldn’t understand. 

“He’s just tired, is all. Taking care of your mom.” Conrad looked at me, his eyebrows knitted in confusion and he opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. “She needs a lot of help these days.” 

“What do you mean? She’s in there right now cooking Thanksgiving dinner,” he said, a little laugh under his voice. 

“She’s making mashed potatoes and veggies. You didn’t see Jeremiah cooking the turkey all morning and feeding her health smoothies so she’d have enough energy to even do what she’s doing,” I told him. “She’s not doing well, Con.” 

“You don’t think I know that?” He whispers. 

“You don’t seem to act like it.” Hurt flashes across his face. “You’re just never around anymore.” I tried to keep my tone light so maybe his feelings don’t get hurt but I can tell that they are. He opened his mouth to speak but then Jeremiah’s voice booms from behind us. 

“Dinner is ready,” he said. We both turn to look at him. His blonde hair is still a curly mess but he tried today. He spent too long in the bathroom with his hair gel trying to make the curls fall in the right spot. His eyes dart between Conrad and I before they land on my legs on his lap. I shift uncomfortably, swinging my feet to the ground. 

“Let’s eat,” I said, standing up and tossing my book next to Conrad. I met Jeremiah in the door, taking his outstretched hand. I can’t help but notice Jeremiah watching Conrad on our way to the dining room. 

Later that night, Jeremiah told me he was going to football camp over the summer. “It’s our last summer in Cousins. With Susannah,” I said when he told me. His eyebrows crinkled and he shook his head at me. 

“My mom is going to die before we can go back to Cousins. You know that.” 

“Don’t say that,” I snapped but he wasn’t phased. He blinked slowly and sighed. “You don’t know that.”

“I do know that. And my dad wants me to go this year, finally. So I’m going to go.” He sounded so certain. Adam always asked Conrad to go to football camp. Conrad was always his star but now that Conrad quit, I guess Adam has no other option. I almost said this to him, just to hurt his feelings, but I didn’t. “I thought you’d be happy.” 

“Why would I be happy?” I asked. “You’ll be gone for three months.” 

“You supported Conrad when he went,” he spat. Always just when I think he’s over it, he throws it back in my face. Conrad. Always, always Conrad. 

“I didn’t care if I saw Conrad for three months or not.” Liar. “He’s not my boyfriend.” 

Jeremiah stood up and ran his hand through his curls. No longer perfectly placed but a disheveled mess. “I have to go check on my mom,” he said after a minute. He turned toward the door. 

“Conrad is in there with her,” I told him. After dinner, Conrad took her up to bed and has been locked in the room with her since. 

“Of course you’d know that.” 

“Oh, shut up!” I yelled. He turned, startled that I raised my voice. “Just stop with that.” His shoulders dropped and he crossed the room swiftly, wrapping me in his arms. I let him hug me and I hugged him back and we didn’t talk. 

Conrad went home the next day. He knocked on my front door, bags in hand and dropped them on the stoop when I opened the door. “Just wanted to say bye,” he said quietly. 

“I didn’t know you were leaving so soon.” 

“I just-” he stopped and looked at the ground and he didn’t have to finish. I knew what he was going to say before he said it. I pulled open the door a little further, just enough for him to squeeze inside the house. He did without question. 

My dad forced my mom to go Black Friday shopping with her so they’ve been gone for hours. I had the entire house to myself but I still led him upstairs. He collapsed onto my bed and covered his face in the crook of his elbow. “It’s better for both of them if you stay,” I said quietly. I always felt like I was walking on eggshells talking about Susannah when she was sick. I was always afraid of saying the wrong thing. 

“I can’t see her like that,” he said. “I kept that secret to myself for too long. I can’t handle it anymore.” His voice was muffled from his arm. I sat down next to him. So close his leg was touching mine. “Plus, Jeremiah acts like he couldn’t care less whether I’m here or not.” 

“That’s not true, you’re his brother.” Conrad peeks his eye out at me and I give him a look that makes him roll his eyes and cover them back up. 

“What are you going to do this summer when he’s gone?” He asked, changing the subject. I shrugged which makes the bed move up and down. “Maybe I can come home for a while.” 

“What are you going to do for the rest of break with no one else on campus?” I asked. It was his turn to shrug now which made me blow a laugh from my nose. 

“Lots of kids stay home for break. I’ll be back for Christmas.” I picked at my nails and thought about Conrad in a knitted sweater, his hair pulled down by a beanie. He stood up then and said, “I should get going.” I nodded and stood up with him, following him downstairs back to the front door. “Call Jere,” he said as we stood on the front porch. My hand gripped the door tighter. 

“I will.” He nodded and touched my wrist as a parting gesture. We no longer hug. Not since summer. I don’t close the door until his car is down the street. I pull out my phone and see three missed texts from Jeremiah. 

Hey, con left

Hello???

Where are you? 

I don’t call him, instead I put on my shoes and cross the lawn to his house. He’s sitting in the living room, his phone on the coffee table and the TV on quiet. He turned around at the sound of me entering and he smiled. My Jeremiah. My heart jumps at the way his eyes crinkle. “Susannah sleeping?” I asked and he nodded. I walk toward the couch to meet him and can’t help but notice the perfect view of my front porch.

taglist: @things-that-make-sa-happy@marajillana@calpurnia2002@revemixer@harrysswhore@liltimmyst @chickunn-nuggett @rottenstyx @queenofthehellfireclub @lilbazzi@drikawinchester@gillybear17@shamelessbluebirdsong @romantics-and-eternity @1kbkbkbkb0 @wolfinthestars @junnniiieee07 

[hetaologist]

World Meeting (pt. 1)

England: *Enters the meeting room* Right, I want to address a particular Tweet as today’s meeting topic…

*All Nations stop what they’re doing to look at England*

England: Just last week, I read a Tweet from a *specific* individual, talking shit about my food.

*All Nations groan, America snickers to himself*

England: *Narrows eyes at America*, I’ll have you know, my ‘Pie and Mash’ is a good, hardy meal and a British classic!

America: *Stands from his desk with a cheeky grin* Come on dude, don’t tell me you actually look forward to eating dry ass meat pies covered in nuclear green gravy and a side of wall paste~. *He laughs mischievously*

England: WHY YOU CHEEKY BAST-

France: *Clears his throat* Mon amie~, I’m forced to agree with America…unfortunately.”

England: *Snaps his head towards France* WHAT!? Says you, you snail sucker! Your food is overrated and overly complicated to make.

France: *Clutches pearls* Sacré bleu, you heathen! At least my food is desired for and doesn't make people fat, no~?!

*America and England both glare at France*

America: Excuse me bro...?

*Germany stands up and places hands on table*

Germany: Now's not the time to talk about frivolous topics as such. The three of you, sit down und shut up!

America: Hmph, says you. You think it's perfectly okay to eat boiled sausages with boiled potatoes and noodles with no seasonings.

*Germany gasps and gets taken a back*

Germany: DON'T TALK SCHEISSE ABOUT MY FOOD, YOU LARD COVERED ARSCHLOCH!

France: And no, covering everything in mustard or paprika doesn't count~.

*Germany is fuming like a hot baked potato*

England: Hehe~. Now you know how I feel in this situation, you bland Kraut!

America: HAHA! And your beer tastes terrible~.

*Everyone deadass looks at America*

America: What?

Russia: That's some bold words coming from you, Америка~. Germany's beer is pretty good, your beer tastes like man pissed into bottle before closing it.

America: HEY! At least my food is well seasoned and diverse...

China: Yeah right, your shit is just our stuff but with too much sugar and salt.

*All Nations nod their head in agreement*

America: No it isn't! I just like lots of flavor....

*England looks over at America's Stanley cup on his desk*

England: I bet that coffee cup is filled to the BRIM with pure sugar and syrups, you fat ass.

America: Nah dude, it's filled with my *:･ﾟ✧special sauce*:･ﾟ✧.

*America opens up his giant cup filled with sauce*

America: It's a combination of ranch, hot sauce, chicken tender sauce, tangy BBQ sauce, ketchup, mustard, mayo, bacon bits, chipotle, sour cream, sweet n' sour and chili sauce~.

*Everyone looks in horror at America's concoction*

England: What in the ACTUAL FUCK AMERICA ?! Why do you have a huge ass cup of JUST SAUCE?!

America: To quench my thirst, of course!

*Everyone's jaw drops in disgust, some start to gag*

Russia: I should have bombed you when I had chance...

America: Nah, I'm just playing! It's for my chicken tenders.

*America pulls out a box of fast food chicken tenders out of coat pocket*

Germany: WHY DO YOU HAVE THAT WITH YOU?!

America: It's my snackies :3c , this is the sauce I use for everything! Like tacos, burgers, pizza...

*North Italy faint after hearing 'pizza'. South Italy gasps and tends to his brother.*

South Italy: You sick fuck, you always fuck up our beloved pizza and pasta!

America: Wha- no I don't!

South Italy: You are the bastard that put pineapple on pizza and fucked it all-a up!

America: Actually, that's Canada's invention...

South Italy: WHAT?!

*Everyone looks at Canada*

Canada: ...damn it. It's really not that bad, honestly.

South Italy: You're just as bad as your brother!

Canada: Fair...

*America gets on the desk and stands on it*

America: How about we once and for all decide who has the best food in the world and that person can talk all the shit they want about other countries food!

*All Nations agrees to the motion, except for Germany*

Germany: Gott in Himmel... *facepalms*

(to be continued...)

[firecooking]

(bruhstation) hey neil! thank you very much for supporting fortezza bigg city so far :] I really appreciate the thought you've put into analyzing bits of my silly little AU, and I've also gained a huge appreciation for your own works as well. it's so clear you've put a lot of thought and research into your AU and it really blew my mind because everything is so meticulously thought out!!! and I'm looking forward to more!!! here's a quick sketch of your gal zaffre! once again thanks :3 (also you're inspiring me to make my own z-stacks oc! haha)

OHHH MY GOD LOOK AT HER MY BABY GIRL MY SWEET CHEESE SHE LOOKS AMAZING AHHH YOUR ART IS SO GOOD I LOVE YOUR FORM AND VOLUME AND HOW YOU DO YOUR LINE WEIGHT WITH THE OPACITY AND LINE DYNAMICS your handle on anatomy and rendering is really interesting to me, reading you work in Fire Alpaca with a mouse is mind boggling to me, i remember when I was doing the same years and years ago and the skill you show is really fascinating and i am jealous, the way your art is put together is scratching my brain. i have been doing art studies of it and trying to dissect it, it'd have such a interesting feel for animation, you have a wonderful style for breaking down into a limited animation style with a emphasis on dynamics with animation in a 8s, 6s, and 4s with 2s detailing and a hard tweening style [<- just professional animator things lol] The way you render shadow and lighting is also ough. This Zaffre is genuinely so wonderful, new desk top background moments. I love her gesture and expression here, it really captures her as a character! Also the way you draw hands, augh, just augh I wish.

You, my friend, are a fabulous illustrator!

And oh my god your AU is scratching my brain in ways I didn't think possible! I know so little yet there is so much there. When I genuinely say that it is affecting me as much as if not more that @askthefamous8 that is the highest compliment I can muster [that AU has been one of my special interests since 2015,]. I am legit making a post it note wall over FBC just like ATF8 had when I was in middle/high school

You have the most loyal human AU fan on your team now, I genuinely smile thinking about Fortezza Bigg City all day long, my friends and partner are getting annoyed to death from me ranting. sorry dear if you are reading this: I know you hate tugs

Also thank you! I really love doing in depth research, its the autism at work. I am a proud vehicle autistic. I've said it before but working on a ship for a summer just to know the mechanics of how actual sailing works is probably the most unhinged thing I can say I've done for accuracy sake. Loved my Captain and fellow crew, very sad I got sick and had to leave. Honestly would love to be a sailor if my heath wasn't bungled up and I wasn't like $200k of debt in animation college.

My humanoid vehicle AU's are partially based on my sadly never going to be picked up pitch bible for a science fiction based historical vehicle show [my fatal flaw is niche interests] And it literally makes my day to sit down and work on the most expansive and historically researched BS on earth, my AU is both a lovely love letter to TUGS as the show it is and a Love Letter to what TUGS wanted to be! At the end of the day TUGS wanted to be it's days Steven Universe or MASH [something I am gonna elaborate in another format later] but unfortunately it just didn't have the right ingredients. Its the Same as the TUGS musical I'm working on, it's a love letter to what TUGS both is and was supposed to be along with being a love letter to the characters themselves

Also:

Join the Z-Stacks OC League, we have cool hats and crime