#long story short I was thinking about them Very Hard and the prompt came to my mind

[denndrawings]

Poet & King

[bugs1nmybrain]

Okay, I decided to wake up and choose violence, so here goes? Imagine? Shigaraki with a pudgy kindhearted girlfriend (quirk or quirkless) that he absolutely loves so much🥰 The two of them have been dating Since he first assembled the LOV, (or before than?) So, after the fight against Re-Destro both Re-Destro and trumpet found out that Shigaraki has a girlfriend. The both of them were very, very bothered and disturbed by it, because they think that the idea of him having a girlfriend would just get in the way of his plans? and when Shigaraki here’s about all of the negative things that they’re saying about his beloved and he LOSES IT! Like completely lost it 😱 and Confronts them about their bullshit And put them back in their place. 

with all my heart - Shigaraki x Fem!Reader

First off, AMAZING PROMPT! I love when people perceive Tomura as a lovebug because he IS

warnings: a mention of sex but no smut, fem-reader with she/her pronouns, swearing, the writing isn't cohesive and is totally off topic at first, white-haired Shigaraki, ANGSTY backstory about their love, kind of fluffy!!, short story, not proofread and likely has typos

Throughout all of Tomura Shigaraki's efforts to bring hero society to its knees, there has always been a deep-seated emptiness within him. It became painful for him, so much so that he would dig himself completely raw before falling asleep at night. He hated it. Even when he made progress and advancements in his goals, he felt hallow.

Until you made him feel whole.

You two met right after he had gathered the League together, by a very casual encounter. Tomura was known to go on walks at night when he felt frustrated, and so while he was trying to process all that was happening and the wonders his group was going to pursue, he stumbled upon you at the park.

Sobbing, he heard. It was startling, and he almost wanted to leave. He picked you out, though, huddled on a bench and shaking with your phone in your hand. You were wearing a pencil skirt and some graphic t-shirt, with eyeliner streaming down your face, and surrounded by literal broken hearts. Tomura felt a tug at his heart, somehow. He didn't understand it, and hated how much dread he felt while looking at you. He didn't understand why he resonated with you so much then until he had fought Re-Destro and the memories of his past awoken.

When you looked up at him, he felt stuck. He didn't want to leave, but he also didn't know what to do.

All he could manage was a mumbled, "Hey."

You had been kicked out of your parent's house because they didn't approve of your so-called "lifestyle." That "lifestyle" consisted of wearing fashionable clothes, not meeting their expectations even though you tried extremely hard to be productive, and above all else- you hated hero society. They hurt you emotionally to the point that you had contemplated horrible things, only to be thrown out. A so-called "snowflake" in their eyes, but when Tomura listened to what you had to say, he told you to "let it snow."

The way you warmed up to him ignited a protective and playful spirit in him. He instantly offered for you to live with him, which was hasty, but it would soon blossom into a sweet and beautiful relationship between the two of you.

You've told him many times about how he "saved" you, and to that he tells you to shut up, but never maliciously. He knows deep down that he feels warmth knowing that he could offer you safety, in his own crooked way. You did the same for him, he'd argue. You stuck with Tomura throughout all of it; when AFO was arrested and they had to live dirt cheap, when he was insistent on beating Gigantomachia, throughout all his meltdowns and bad moods, you were there to hold him and let him just be. After a long day of taking a beating and destroying what he could, he came back to you, and you'd make him whole again. He loved you so much.

So to hear this bird-faced baldy and snob politician with a pedo-stash talking shit on you? He was not having that.

-

Shigaraki lingered outside Re-Destro's office. He had the door closed, but he could tell he was talking to Trumpet. Shigaraki was going to approach him about buying the League (and you) a night out to the casino, but he couldn't help but eavesdrop.

"I never even expected Shigaraki to be able to have a romantic partner," Trumpet comments, almost impressed. "I can almost guarantee she's with him because she feels that she has no other choice."

"Either way, she's slowing down operations. I don't mean to question the Grand Commander, but-"

"He comes to meetings, clicks his pen with a few "uh-huhs" unless he's the one talking, and when the meeting is over, she's right outside the door," Trumpet continues.

maybe if you guys talked about shit I cared about, things would be different

"He strolls off with her, giving her the attention that he should be giving to the cause."

"Not to mention, her quirk doesn't have any practical use. Nothing that would help protect the cause."

(Your quirk was a fascinating one, and multifaceted, actually. When you were feeling emotions of love and adoration, you produced bubbly hearts around you. Their color depended on the context of love you felt. However, your quirk had an added bonus! Which was that when you loved someone deeply, their quirk had no effect on you.)

(I guess you could consider this like Eraserhead's quirk mixed with La Brava's. However, this quirk wouldn't work for characters with external quirks like Explosion, Electricity, or Fire, because those are produced as a substance and not as an on-contact quirk. So for her, quirks like Tomura's would apply, but so could Brainwashing, Erasure, Toga's quirk (I can't remember the name), Zero-Gravity, etc.)

"Maybe we could find a way to get Shigaraki to focus on the real mission. Draw her away from him, and have her see his true colors, that way her quirk loses its effect.."

Oh he had heard ENOUGH now.

Some childish spite in Tomura wanted to decay the whole door down and say "listen motherfuckers," but he did things the adult way. Sort of. So he waited until their conversation was over. Trumpet started to leave and turned the doorknob to be abruptly faced with Tomura's "oh you've done it now" smile.

"Oh-jesu-"

"Grand Commander! What is it you need? Did your weekly payment go through? Any mistakes? Let me know and I'll fix it!" Re-Destro exclaimed, half-genuinely at his awe of Shigaraki, and half trying to throw a bandaid over what he knew Tomura had heard.

"Oh, you're going to have to do a lot of compensation for the bullshit I just heard," Tomura grumbled, trying to go with intimidation rather than attack.

"I-I don't understand!"

"Re-Destro..." Trumpet cringed, knowing that Tomura was on their asses.

"But you understand so much, don'tcha?" Tomura turns the other way to face Trumpet, too. "And so don't you? How about I give you two some grand advice and say this: mind your own fucking business and if you have a problem with my woman, you're going to have to tally your asses off because she's NOT leaving."

"I don't mean to impose Shigaraki. It's just that she takes up quite a bit of your time."

"And how many of us are there to be attending to all the dirty work? Mr. "I'm-going-to-hide-up-in-my-tower-while-my-people-go-after-the-big-bad League of Villains?" Yeah, I'm sorry that you two are some miserable geezers who have to pay to get laid, but I'm not cutting corners with Y/N because you guys have some sticks up your asses. Get the hell over it."

"I-I understand, Shigaraki!"

Trumpet began to roll his eyes and excused himself to leave, and was immediately startled with another face he did not want to see.

"Hi babe!" Tomura smiled wide with puppy eyes when he saw you standing in the doorway.

"Hi Tomura," you smiled back, tiny pink hearts popping around you. The two older men could immediately sense the "love-bird" energy between the two of you and felt annoyed. You practically tip-toed your way into the room and stood beside Tomura awkwardly.

"How'd you know I was here?" Tomura teased, brushing your hair out of your face. He gave zero fucks about PDA right now. They deserved the discomfort in his eyes.

"I saw you up the stairs when I was looking for you. I woke up and you weren't in bed."

"Sorry, baby, I should've told you before I left. I was just coming up to Re-Destro's office to ask him something," Shigaraki slied while averting his attention over to Re-Destro. "You know, y/n's been telling me about how she really wants a PC."

"Oh, is that so?" Re-Destro fake laughed.

You simply nodded shyly, feeling put on the spot, but knew full well what Tomura was doing. You had ironically heard what Tomura was saying to them right after he was eavesdropping himself.

"Yeaaa. She wants a really expensive one, too."

You actually had only wanted a pretty standard one; you were humble. This was Tomura just pulling some extra strings for you.

"Is that too much, Re-Destro?" Tomura pestered. Trumpet snuck out and had been long gone by this point.

"Of course not! Just tell me the price and I'll make it happen."

"Thank you," you said quietly, though you and Tomura both knew that was meant for him and not Re-Destro.

-

When you and Tomura left Re-Destro's office, you headed back to your shared room. Tomura held your hand delicately, thinking about what they said before about trying to make your quirk ineffective toward him. A part of him feared that happening since you started dating, and their comments only reinforced that anxiety for him. You squeezed his hand tight in realization and continued to snuggle up on him like a clingy cat.

"You know I love you, right?" Tomura mutters.

"I love you more, Tomu" you bubbled with an infestation of smokey hearts blowing in his face.

"Jesus! Haha, I guess so.." he smiles, waving the hearts out of his face playfully with an instant frown following.

"What's wrong, Tomura?"

"Nothing. I mean, I guess I'm just angry at them, for saying those things about you."

"I hope I'm not a distraction like they said."

"What? No! Don't ever fucking think that, please. I swear, if they ever tell you that you're getting in the way, or try to turn you from me, I give you full permission to kill them. Or come to me, I'll do it for you. I love you."

"I love you, too."

"You already said that, dummy."

"You said it too!"

"Fuck," Tomura cackles, pulling you in tight for a kiss. "Did you know that you're my comfort character, y/n?"

"Oh really?" you laugh.

"Duh. You're my favorite person, and...you make me feel warm? Which means you're stuck in this bed with me until I say you can leave."

"Aye-aye, Grand Commander," you obeyed sarcastically, hearts fluttering around you too as he pet your hair.

"Good girl. I'm not letting any bald-headed asshole try to take you from me."

"They couldn't do that, Tomura. I love you too much."

"You said it again."

"And I'll say it a thousand times more," you said, kissing his cheek tenderly as you continued to hold him until your brand-new PC arrived at your doorstep (under 24 hour shipping! Thanks Re-Destro!).

[goodgirlofglory]

Don’t worry! I didn’t shut down 😂 and thank you for the follow!!

As for the requests, I don’t want to be a bother, so ill try not to overload your asks. Do you also write stories that don’t have any smut? Because, as much as I love the game of hide the eggplant 🍆 😉 I sometimes really just craze a sweet soft story or something that’s angsty with a happy ending.

Like for example, it’s spring/summer early morning, and Bucky being a trained soldier wakes up with the sun. But his partner on the other hand…. Let’s just say she isn’t a morning person. However, today they wake together and lie in bed all soft and sweet and talk about anything, and maybe they both drift back to sleep… and uhh I just melt

Or… Bucky is new to the tower and does not get along with the newest younger avenger member that everyone loves. And they bicker back and forth, and she is so sassy and witty and one ups him every time. And In the end, they have a big argument and she asks why he hates her so much, when she didn’t even do anything. And Bucky basically confesses that he doesn’t hate her. He actually really likes her and is just scared Bec of what he used to do and who he used to be, and the fact that she’s so young and is the sunshine person of the group, and they talk and share the sweetest first kiss 🥹

OMG DID I SAY TOO MUCH LOL 🫢🫠🫠🫠🫠

I just really love Bucky Bec his story is so sad

Anyways, you’re amazing. I hope you have a good day/night 🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Bestie!! I have something for you! 🌸💖🌸💖🌸

This is for your first prompt and honestly, idk how I feel about what I did with it🙈 Lmk what you think🫶

As for your second prompt, it made me look up a similar draft for a series I wrote long ago, and now I’m super inspired to continue writing on it!!!!😳🙌 A real enemies to lovers, can’t be in a room for two seconds without snapping at each other, but also desperately attracted to each other with Bucky still being very much traumatised and thinking himself completely unworthy of love and affection and reader wanting so much to get along with him and be his friend and potential bed mate iykwim type vibe!!

UUUUGH, like I said before, these prompts you give are so thought provoking and inspiring. I love them, thank you!!!😍

Hope you're having a splendid day/night, enjoy🫶🦋

Sleeping in / One-shot

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word count: 3,5k

Warnings: fluffy fluff, some angst, a few references to smut

Summary: Bucky never considered sleeping in until you - soft, sweet, precious you - started sleeping in his bed.

Bucky’s eyes shot open at precisely 6 AM like they always did. It was a routine ingrained in his very bones at this point. Whether it came from his years as the Soldat, his military training before that or the hard days of his upbringing, for as long as he could remember, he’d always been wide awake and alert at precisely 6 AM. Nowadays he kept a strict morning routine consisting of a short and non-indulgent breakfast, a ten mile jog, short to the point cold shower and then a crossword puzzle before starting his day. It was like clockwork, and Bucky hadn’t really questioned it, nor had any incentive to change it. That was, until you - soft, sweet, precious you - started sleeping in Bucky’s bed. 

Bucky had been blessed with your intimate company for half a year now. He’d never been so nervous as that night he took you out to the beach to watch the stars after three months of dating, and asked you to go steady with him in the light of the bonfire. Nor had he ever felt such blissful, perfect relief and elation as when you’d thrown your arms around his neck and squealed in his ear. 

“Yes, yes, oh my god, of course I do, Bucky,” you’d exclaimed, damn near rupturing his ear drum. He’d only wrapped his own arms tighter around you and nuzzled into the hollow of your throat, grinning like a dolt against your skin before peppering it with kisses, working his way up to your lips, his heart soaring in his chest. You’d made love for the first time right there in the sand, his cock drawn out of his fly and your panties pulled to the side, clothes awkwardly askew and sand getting everywhere, but it had been absolutely perfect. 

From that point on, It didn’t take long for the two of you to become virtually inseparable, spending meals and nights and whatever spare time you had with each other. Bucky just couldn’t help it, he became completely and ardently addicted to you. Your scent, your warmth, your laughter, the color of your eyes and the way the corners crinkled when you smiled. The way your brows furrowed when you concentrated on something, how fiercely you defended anything you loved or felt empathy for, how sopping wet you got when he teased you just the tiniest bit. 

The two of you loved taking walks together on the grounds, both finding it relaxing and like a much needed detox at the end of a long day. On days off you took longer hikes together in landscapes near and far, sleeping out in the fresh air and making love on mossy forest grounds. 

You both had a special craving for physical connection (or as you liked to say, your “love languages were physical touch”), which in truth was a lucky blessing, for never had someone unlocked such need in Bucky. Need for your warmth, need for your touch, need to hold your hand or your waist or shoulder, or just feel the weight of your feet in his lap on movie nights with the rest of the team. It didn’t need to be sexual either (though it certainly often was, or turned to that) - it was just the knowledge of you being close that soothed whatever aches Bucky had inside, quelled and quieted some fidgety, restless part of him. 

Further, your company and your skin on his had done miracles for his sleepless night. You were like a soothing blanket and a sleeping pill, all in one. Whenever he laid down and pulled you close, felt your hands around his torso and your legs tangle with him, sleep found him easily, which was a feat he hadn’t found in years. You alternated between sleeping in your room or his, but you always slept together whenever you had the chance. In his quiet mind, Bucky liked it best when you slept in his bed. There was just something about seeing you in his room, in his sheets, relaxed and warm and soft with sleep, leaving behind faint traces of your scent on his pillow that Bucky would never admit openly to pressing his nose to and inhaling gratefully whenever you left for your own daily work.

 Inviting you in and seeing you so comfortable and at home in his private, intimate spaces had a newfound emotion spreading in his body. A sweet ache that wasn’t pain, nor sadness, or even longing. He’d scarcely dared put a name to the new feeling that bloomed like the tiniest, most fragile thing in his chest. The feeling was happiness, so foreign and unexpected Bucky had damn near had a panic attack that first time he caught himself gazing at you while you were deeply engrossed in your book next to him, and recognised the feeling for what it was. 

On this Sunday morning, when neither of you had any plans for the day, Bucky opened his eyes to find you snuggled up to him like a koala, legs and arms wrapped tightly around him as you slumbered on, and that same pang of sweet ache hit him as he looked down on you, saw you so relaxed and peaceful in his arms. By God, you were a deep sleeper, and you slept a lot, too. Bucky’d been baffled to observe how fucking much you slept if only given the chance. Proper sloth, he’d tried to tease you once, only for you to stretch with a lazy smile and nuzzle his chest. That had in turn only served to make Bucky’s heart melt right out of his ribcage. You were too cute, damnit, and far too powerful, and Bucky could only clutch you tighter to him. 

Bucky looked down at you, the soft rays of the warm spring sun coming in through the open curtains and casting your beautiful face in a golden sheen, taking his breath away as his gaze flitted about your face, without a single tension, mouth slightly open, quiet, steady puffs of air coming out and fanning across Bucky’s face. He put his nose gently to your throat and breathed you in, pulling in a grateful fill of your mouth watering scent, all warm and heady from your sleep.

He wondered what you were dreaming about, and how long you would sleep like this, undisturbed and unburdened, like you deserved. Did you even know how much of a miracle you’d been to him? How you single handedly fought off his nightmares? Kept him sleeping through the night, not awakening to sheets damp with sweat and an even more exhausted mind than the night before? He suspected you didn’t have a single clue. And maybe he was to blame for that. Cause even though his body had practically leapt at the chance of living in semi-permanent connection with yours no problem, he still had a little ways to go when it came to properly opening up emotionally. With words. God, he hated talking about his feelings, hated how vulnerable and easily wounded he felt, how much he fumbled for the right things to say and the guilt of taking comfort from others when he’d been the cause of so much horrid pain in the past. Whenever he felt the need to get things off his chest, those thoughts would hit him. It wasn’t right to demand people soothe and comfort him, he didn’t deserve it. He needed to own his actions, no matter if Hydra was og wasn’t here anymore. Especially because of that, actually. If he didn’t repent, how would he ever make up for all those people who’d suffered at his hands? 

So no, it was better to just work on it himself, to not burden anyone with it, and especially not a sweet, loving, caring ray of sunshine like you. You deserved so much better. 

Bucky stared at you while his thoughts whirled. He would let you sleep in, he decided, and after bending slightly forward to kiss one of your eyelids as softly as his body could possibly allow him, he started the meticulous procedure of removing his arm from under your neck and extracting himself from the secure cage you’d made around him with your limbs, so he could go start his morning routine. Just when he’d managed to untangle your legs and was about to slip his arm from under your head, your brows crinkled and the most adorable little sound of protest came from you. Sluggish and weakly, you reached for him, still mostly asleep, and tugged at his shoulder and arm to get him back to you. 

Bucky’s heart clenched again, and he huffed a laugh as he let himself be pulled back into your embrace, secretly relishing the feeling of you determinant pulling him close to you, of wanting him close to you. He couldn’t help it, those small reassurances meant so much to him. 

Your eyes opened to slits and looked up at him. 

“Mornin,” he mumbled, feeling himself light up with a sense of excitement at having you awake and with him.

You hummed long and slow, settling down with your head on his chest.

“Mornin, baby, what’s the time?” you asked, and your small, raspy voice was so fucking cute Bucky had a hard time dealing with it, actually.

He didn’t have to look at the clock on the nightstand. 

“Just past six,” he said, still gazing at your sleepy form. 

Your face scrunched up in what could only be described as disgust at his words. 

“What? Whyyyy, Bucky, it’s Sunday,” you whined, and Bucky couldn’t help his grin. 

“Can’t help the way I am,” he said as his only excuse, hoping you didn’t catch on to the way the words reflected his earlier thoughts. 

You stretched like a cat in his arms and snuggled closer to him, pressing a kiss to his throat. 

“I can help you. Settle down, we’re sleeping in today,” you said, eyes closing. It seemed you were halfway back to sleep already, though your grip around Bucky was uncompromising. 

“Is that an order?” Bucky murmured, so stupidly entertained by your every word he just kept grinning, the ache in his chest growing stronger.

“Yes it is, so you better obey me, soldier,” you mumbled. 

Bucky chuckled, watching you drift back off to sleep, but found he couldn’t quite get there himself. He found himself gazing out into the room, mind still going over his worries like a steadily churning maelstrom. Sleep didn’t come easy when he was stuck in a thinking loop like this. It didn’t help that his morning wood was as incessant as always, and you snuggling your warm, soft body up against it only made it worse. That wasn’t that much of an issue, though. He actually, secretly kinda loved just laying like this, feeling how you aroused him and knowing you reciprocated. 

To Bucky’s surprise, he looked back down to find you watching him, having cracked one eye open. He almost started. 

“What’s the matter?” you asked, sounding vaguely concerned. 

Bucky schooled his expression and shook his head. 

“Nothing, sweetheart, go back to sleep,” he said, kissing your forehead and then kissing it again when you hummed contentedly at the gesture. 

Your hand came up and started gently playing with the hair on his chest, something you often did when you were thinking and wondering how to say something. A contemplative gesture Bucky didn’t think you were all that aware of. Not that he’d ever made you aware of it. He liked being able to read your behavioral patterns. Liked it when you were open and honest and comfortable showing him your authentic self. He wouldn’t dream of taking that away and making you self conscious. 

“You sure? You look like you're thinking very hard and not talking about it,” you said and Bucky blanched. Had he been that obvious? Maybe he had some revealing behaviors he wasn’t aware of too. For some reason, it warmed his heart to know you could read him as well as he could read you. That you paid attention. That you cared as much as you did. He took your hand in his and played with your fingers, loved the way his hand engulfed yours, seeing how elegant your bones were while knowing the strength you could pack in a punch. 

He turned your hand over and though he’d only meant to buy himself some time with his exploration, he noticed for the first time a scar on the tip of your ring finger. He brought your finger closer to his eyes and yes indeed, in the shape of a question mark without the dot, the pad of your fingertip was sliced in two by a fine, pale scar line. He ran his thumb over it, suddenly engrossed in this detail he’d missed until now. 

“Where’d you get this?” he asked, curiosity making him giddy while deep down, a furious anger stirred; Anger that promised death and despair upon those who dared hurt you. 

You giggled as he brushed his thumb over it again, squirming slightly in his arms, and Bucky got even more curious. 

“It tickles. And it’s nothing exciting, just a small accident from when I was a kid,” you said, squealing lightly when Bucky brushed his thumb even more gently over the scarred skin, watching you avidly. 

“Tell me,” he said, giving your fingertip peace, but not letting you pull your hand away. 

You gave him a stern look, though you couldn’t hide the smile tugging on your lips.

“Fine, I’ll let you distract me for now, but I want to know what had you looking so forlorn earlier,” you said, the most adorable flush creeping up on your cheekbones as Bucky slowly pulled your hand up to his mouth and kissed each fingertip, noticing with glee how your pupils dilated as you watched his lips caress your skin. 

“Forlorn?” Bucky repeated, settling down even further into the soft mattress and the soft, silky sheets he’d gone out and gotten that first week you started sharing his bed, “I like when you go Shakespeare,” he teased, grinning when you smacked his chest in petulant offense. Bucky pulled you even closer to him and rolled you over so you lay across his chest as he settled on his back. “No, c’mon, tell me,” he insisted. 

You lay there together as the sun rose higher, Bucky listening intently as you told him about the accident that had split your finger tip as a seven year old, and then the stitches you’d have to get sewn while in the ER. Bucky couldn’t help pulling you closer and kissing all over your face when you talked about the praise you’d gotten from the nurses for being so brave. 

“That’s my girl,” he murmured onto the skin below your ear and relished the way you shivered. You gave him that look you got when you were delightfully preening under his praise while at the same time getting just a little bit shy - that look that made Bucky go half-mad with desire. 

“Tell me about this one?” you asked, pointing to a scar that ran along his lower abdomen, a  line that zig zagged diagonally up to his waist. It was one of his more gnarly scars. Thick, ragged and ugly, with darker, blotchy scar tissue, indicating a more serious injury. Not that Bucky knew. 

“Don’t know, I don’t remember how I got them,” he said, finding the words a bit more difficult to get past his throat as he focused on the scar, and the lack of memories accompanying it. 

You looked up at him in surprise. 

“Any of them?” you asked. 

Bucky gave a noncommittal shrug, fighting off his self-consciousness. He didn’t want to get defensive around you, knew he didn’t have to. Hell, you were the one person he knew by now he could be open and honest with. But the lack of knowing was still a sore spot for him.

“I know where the arm went, Steve told me, but the rest is, um…well, mysteries,” he said. 

You blinked, looking a little like a wounded puppy as your fingers traced another scar. You were so empathic, always caring so deeply for others. It was something Bucky admired about you, along with how open you were yourself about your feelings and stuff like that. Bucky drew a steadying breath, gathering his courage. 

“I’m glad I have them,” he said, catching your attention again. Your brow crinkled for the tiniest moment. 

“Why for?” you asked softly, a small, perfect encouragement for him to elaborate. 

Here we go, Bucky thought, a shrill nervousness suddenly swelling inside him.

“I wouldn’t be here today if I didn’t have them,” Bucky said, swallowing thickly. His courage faltered slightly and he averted his eyes, but he forced himself to continue speaking, “They’re a part of the life that led me to this, to…you. I wouldn’t be here with you right now if I didn’t also go through whatever gave me all these scars…and for that, I’m happy,” he said, drawing a mortified breath as he stopped speaking, his heart suddenly pounding in his chest. 

The silence felt like an eternity, and Bucky steeled himself for whatever reaction you might come with. Was it too much? Too weird? Too morbid? 

Your hands cupped his face and brought his eyes up to yours. They were shining with emotion, with empathy so deep he almost winced at the raw intensity. 

“You’re so strong, Bucky. A strong and good man, and so fucking sweet. You didn’t deserve any of your scars, or any of the pain you went through to get here. And I know you feel guilty, and I know there is little I can do to make it alright, but I…,” you trailed off for a beat and to his astonishment, Bucky swore he heard the words love you hang in the air between the two of you. Your heart, which Bucky could feel between your two bodies pressed together, shot up to an alarming speed, and a crimson flush stole across your face. 

You must have seen him catch on, for you lowered your gaze and laughed a bit self deprecatingly. No, no, no, don’t hide, please say them, Bucky thought desperately, his own heart picking up speed, thudding hard in his chest. God, could it be true?

“Is it selfish to say I’m happy you’re here with me too, even though you had to go through so many unfair, horrible things to get here?” you asked, and Bucky wondered if you were feeling guilty too at that moment. 

He hugged you tighter to him, lowering his head to catch your down-cast eyes. 

“I want you to. Be selfish, I mean, ehm, with me,” he said in a surge of bravery that had him fumbling his words all the same. “I mean I like it when you are - I mean, oh God, I -”

“I get what you mean,” you said softly and assuringly, biting your lip and smiling so sweetly Bucky’s heart lurched. 

He bent forward and caught your lips, so fucking grateful for you, for caring, understanding and supporting you. Maybe he didn’t need to hear you say you loved him yet. His heart was soaring in his chest just by the implication, just by having you here in his arms. He could be gracious and continue working to deserve your love in the future, and be completely ready to receive it. 

You broke the kiss and settled down on his chest again, and his hand found your hair, playing with it. 

“I need a haircut,” you said after a few moments, voice just the tiniest bit tense for it to be a nonchalant remark. Who needs a distraction now?, Bucky thought a bit smugly, listening with his enhanced hearing that your heart was still thudding just a little faster than usual. He could be gracious, though it was a near thing. 

“I like your hair like this,” he said, kissing the top of your head, satisfaction surging warm and proud when you tried to snuggle even closer to him, tangling your legs even more with his.

“Oh lord, no it’s all frizzy. I once had a hairdresser -”

You spent some time talking about nothing and everything, the languid morning settling heavy in your bones. Bucky felt like he was floating, like time slowed and you were hiding away together on a cloud of affection and drowsy, peaceful contentment. 

Nestled together in the privacy of his room, Bucky’s thoughts went to the future for once, and not the past. They went to the hope that you would tell him you loved him one day. That he would be ready to receive that love then, and be truly deserving of it. As of now, maybe he could get used to sleeping in, Bucky thought as he listened to you murmuring about a dream you’d had. 

And after a while, when your eyelids had closed entirely and your breath evened out, Bucky drifted back off to sleep with you, still entangled in the soft sheets illuminated by the warm, spring sun. 

[hypnotisedfireflies]

I am re-reading Drifter's Dawn and in the chapter when Tess tells Joel the actual story of what actually went down when the outbreak hit with Mike and Nico, I couldn't help but wonder how Joel would react in that situation. (Basically just slotting Joel in for Mike, with Nico)

I think Tess and Joel's near-telepathic sympatico stems from their chemistry but also their circumstances, having to fight for their lives and get very good at it very quickly. So obviously that wouldn't have developed on Outbreak day, but there would still be a strongggg underlying understanding they would have between them.

All this is to say, may I please request a one-shot re-imaginging of that Outbreak moment where Joel and Tess are married and Nico is their son. (Sarah may or may not exist in this universe)

Thank you kindly!

Oof, what an ask, friend!  You are requesting my brain to do some seriously tricky rewiring here.  And it’ll be kind of weird too, given I’ll be taking the script and changing a character.  I don’t think I’ve ever done that before.  But some mental gymnastics never hurt me so … let’s give this a go!

For this to work, let’s assume all the following are true for the exercise:

Tess and Joel are married and living in Detroit – as you say, just swapping in Joel for Mike (ouch)

Sarah is Tommy’s kid and they’re still in Texas (just to uncomplicate it a little)

Up until now they have lived an ordinary life within their ordinary careers and nothing live-changingly traumatic has happened to them (ie, they have not been tested as they have in Driftersverse) but, as you say, they still have that powerful current of understanding

Let’s not question why any of the above is true and also not hate on Mike too much for what happened in Driftersverse canon :p

I wrote this really fast so I didn’t overthink it, and then proofed it just as fast, so please forgive any errors.

Thank you for the prompt! I hope you like it. <3

Okay ... here's an alternate universe version of the first chapter of Drifter's Dawn:

A low rumble infiltrated Tess’s consciousness.  She let it in, let her mind mull over what it might be … and then let it go as the inviting temptation of deeper sleep engulfed her.  She turned on her side and took a deep breath.  A truck, or someone revving their motor too late into the night.  Tess heard it again and thought even less of it now the noise was rationalised.  She slid her arm over Joel’s waist and felt him bring her hand up to his chest. 

His warmth suddenly lurched from her grasp.  Tess blinked in confusion and sat up on an elbow. 

“What are you doing?”  The words lay thick in her mouth.

Another rumble came as Joel, dressed only in his shorts, raised the blind.  The bedroom was cast in acrid honey light and this time, Tess recognised the rumble as too deep, too long for any truck or car.  As the blind came up Joel was silhouetted completely by unnatural light. 

The next sound was no rumble but an explosion.  The boom swallowed them up and Tess heard herself scream, saw Joel duck down and extend his hand out to her to stay back.  She could hear the windows rattling.  Nico began to cry in the other room. 

“Jesus Christ,” Joel moved back from the frame, still in a half-crouch.  “Stay there.  Stay where you are.  I’ll get him.”

“What’s going on out there?”

“Just stay there!”

Tess watched him go with some kind of amazement.  In her sleep-addled, scared mind it seemed Joel had somehow done this, or that he had answers that he was denying her.  She came up to her knees and leaned toward the window.  She could see smoke buffeting up into the sky.  Something was gone.  What was over that way?  Tess flinched as she heard another explosion, further away. 

She was still looking toward the window when Nico’s cries drew closer.  Joel had him:  the baby was bothered enough to be twisting himself about, flinging his arms and legs and making him hard to hold on to.  But Joel’s hold was inescapable, and the security began to calm Nico even as Tess watched.

Tess slapped around for the remote control.  She extended her arm like a wand to turn the TV on and it came alive across the other side of the room.  An explosion that big was surely breaking news.  Maybe there’d been a trash crash, or a bad fire …

“What the fuck …” she breathed. 

It took Tess a moment to realise that she wasn’t watching a movie.  She flipped two channels ahead and then went back again.  She was seeing the same kind of footage on every station.  People rioting, buildings going up, the army deployed.  A police car on fire.  People were screaming about rabies and terrorists, but all Tess could see in every single shot was masses of bodies rushing and falling all over each other.  She didn’t notice that Nico had gone quiet.  They lost track of time as they watched the same news on every channel. 

“That’s Chicago,” said Joel.

More cities they recognised played out before them, seized in chaos, dense under thick smoke and the screams – the same screams everywhere, on every channel, on every camera.

“What is this?  Joel, are you seeing this?  Joel?”

“That was Houston,” he said.

She tore her gaze from the screen.  Joel was balancing Nico with one arm against his body – the baby still grizzling – and thumbing the buttons on his Nokia with the other.  He pressed it up against his ear, shook his head furiously, and tried again. 

“Come on, Tommy.  Tommy, pick up.”  He finally threw the phone on the bed in disgust.  “It’s not connectin’.”

Tess scrambled out of bed and hurried to the dresser, rummaging around for her jeans.

“What are you doing?  Tess?”

“Getting dressed.”

“What the fuck is going on, Tess?”

“I don’t know.  Get dressed.”

Joel deposited Nico on the bed, where he immediately began to burrow.  They pulled on clothes, passing pieces that belonged to one another back and forth, and then were drawn back to the TV like magnets.  It was increasingly terrifying – two stations went off-air even as they watched, one of them when the camera itself suddenly careened sideways into the out of focus floor, but the screaming was unmistakable.  They discussed what they saw in fractured sentences, trying to make sense of it.  But the message from all authorities were the same:  stay indoors.  Joel kept trying Tommy.  He tried his father.  Tess, slow to the party, found she was unable to reach anyone when she tried, too. 

“Take him.”  Joel passed Nico into her arms.  He was sleeping now, and didn’t protest.

“What are you doing?”  Tess leaned forward, moving Nico to her other shoulder. 

Joel was in the wardrobe.   He reached up and shifted a few boxes around and it took her way too long to realise what he was doing.  He had a handgun which Tess didn’t much like, stored away at the back of the closet.  He’d kept it so casually in the drawer for years but once Nico started moving around, Tess had insisted it be put away.  She watched him take it out and load it up with ammo from a separate box.

“Joel …”  Somehow, this sight was more terrifying than anything else she had seen so far.

“We’re not gonna need it,” he told her.  “It’s just in case.” 

He stuffed it down the back of his jeans and sat before her.  He smoothed his hands through her hair and cradled her face.  He kissed her soundly.  “It’s just in case.”

A new report on TV caught their attention, and they both turned to watch a terrified woman reporting from the back of a news van, which seemed to be speeding through the night.

Tess stood abruptly.  “What the fuck are we doing?”

“What?”

“Joel.”

“Oh, shit.”

It was so surreal, watching the world crumbling on TV.  They had been so engrossed in what they could see in the box that they had forgotten it was meant to be everywhere.  They stood on either side of the bed and stared across at one another, hardly able to believe they had both missed the obvious.  And then a long scream came from somewhere outside, and they ran.

They pounded down the hall.  At the top of the stairs Joel grabbed Tess and pulled her to him to make her stop, and then thrust her back.

“Stay up here with him.”

“He’s fine.  No.  No.”

“Stay up here.”

“No.  No, no.  No!” 

Tess wouldn’t let him go.  Every time Joel freed part of himself, Tess grabbed him again, and he eventually had no choice but to take her hand.  They went down together, quieter now.  Their blinds were already closed.  They went to each door and window and checked the locks and then, by silent agreement and pointing, began moving furniture in front of the doors.  There was not much they could do about the windows.

“Are we doin’ this wrong?  Wait, let’s just think.”

Joel came around the couch they had just lugged into place and grasped her elbows. 

“Let’s just think a minute.  Should we be goin’ somewhere?”

“… where?”

“I don’t know.”

“Go where, Joel?”

“I don’t know!”

Tess pressed her hand to her mouth and took a long, steadying breath. 

Think. 

They were scared.  They’d been woken in the middle of the night to … something, and they didn’t know what was going on.  Not really.  They didn’t know anything except that it was apparently everywhere and the authorities were saying they needed to stay inside.  Now that they were still, Tess could hear other sounds outside, too.  Between the screams was the angry hum of traffic, crashes, alarms.  Her head was buzzing with it.  Tess shook it off.

“This will pass,” Tess told him.  “This is crazy.  We just need to lay low a minute, and it’ll – burn itself out.  Whatever this is.”

Joel was nodding, reassured.  “Okay.”

“We wait.  We just wait here and – the phones will clear and that’ll stop,” she pointed vaguely outside, “and if we have to leave, then the army will come and evacuate us.  Right?  That’s what they do.”

“Yeah.  That’s what they do.”

“Okay.  Let’s – we can wait it out, right?”

“Sure.”

“It’s the right thing?”

Joel pulled her in close.  She could feel the tension vibrating in his body.  “You’re right.  We just wait it out.  Let’s – let’s bring up some things, we’ll wait upstairs.  Stay good and quiet.  Upstairs.”

“Okay.  And – and we’ll pack for when the army comes,” Tess added.  She could feel the uncanny hysteria trembling at the edges, but a plan helped put it in its place.  “One bag each.  That’s what they always – that’s right, yeah?  We pack one bag each.”

The activity kept Tess sane.  They swept up everything they thought they needed from the kitchen (panic shopping – they would make two more trips later in the day) and then packed three small bags.  Tess laboured over it for hours.  She couldn’t decide what were the most important things they should take.  She had visions of their luggage being tossed aside and losing important documents.  There was no sentimentality in her packing.  She left out Nico’s favourite toys until Joel reminded her that those might be a good idea, and she almost lost it because she’d just gotten everything organised in a way that made sense to her.  She snatched the toys and pushed Joel away to repack without his meddling. When she was done, she took them downstairs and placed them by the front door in readiness.

He stayed with Nico.  He paced with him or sat up in bed, talking to him like nothing was going on out there.  They divided up the duties of parenting and packing without even talking about it.  Nico’s bond to Joel was stronger, anyway.  Things had been improving for Tess, especially in the last few months as Nico grew older, but in times of distress Nico was better off with Joel.  He could calm him ten times faster than she could.  Tess had no doubt that were she holding him right now, all her fears would transmit directly to him and he’d be wailing and terrified.  His big, brown eyes were uncertain and wet, but he was quiet.  His fists were balled in Joel’s shirt.  He couldn’t have handed him over Tess even if he wanted to. 

She sat with them only when she couldn’t fuss around with the packing any longer.  Tess thumbed Nico’s hot cheeks. “We’ll just wait it out, yeah? Little holiday at home, we’ll just wait it out.”

The night passed.  All the channels had gone off air and the phones still weren’t working.  They kept the blinds down and agreed on silence, regular patrols downstairs to check everything was all right.  They thought they recognised some of their neighbours out there and had a quick conversation about whether they should check it out.  But when they saw one tackle another at high speed they quashed those plans, and never brought them up again.  Sometimes the air was thick with shouts and screams, the squealing of car tyres and crunching metal.  Helicopters pounding overhead, explosions near and far.   And then it would go eerily silent for awhile and that was worse, waiting to hear something.  Then there would be pounding somewhere and breaking glass, more shouts, gunshots.  So many gunshots. 

“We did the right thing?”  Tess asked not long after the power went off.

“Someone will be along,” Joel promised her, but it was hard to believe him.  “Why the fuck are all the lines down?”

He tried Tommy again, tried his father.  He got nowhere both times and lost his temper, tossing the little phone across the room.  It hit the wall and the casing split open. 

“God-fuckin’-damnit.  Oh shit – no, baby – come on.  It’s all right.”

The tantrum had been stewing in Nico for hours, and they had only just managed to keep it under control.  Now it unleashed, and he was arching his back and wailing.  Tess hurriedly passed him over to her husband but Nico was too far gone, and not even he could bring him around.

And then the pounding started at the back door.

“It’s okay!”  Joel held out his hand to Tess.  “They’re locked, we – we barricaded them up.”

The pounding began at the front door.

“If they get in, there’s nowhere to go,” Tess said.

She had been unable to contemplate any alternative other than the turmoil dying down or the army coming to get them.  Going out in the car was unthinkable.  They had no place to go.  And all night they’d heard collisions, honking horns, squealing tyres.  Maybe if it had been the two of them they would’ve tried going somewhere, but not with Nico.

Who was still bawling.

“They’re not gonna go away,”  she added. 

They’d seen that play out in the house across the street. People – these possessed, angry people – mobbing around doors until they got inside.  It had sometimes gone on for hours.

“Quietly,” Joel said, which was stupid given the noise Nico was making, but she understood.

As they went down the stairs the pounding grew worse.  Tess was pacing herself through what was next – the luggage, the garage door, Nico’s seat.  Should they even bother with that?  She could drive, Joel could hold him. But that wasn’t safe.  Was there time, though?

And then windows broke somewhere in the house. One side or another – it was hard to say – but they were shattering inward and Joel was pushing her but Tess could already see it was too late.  As they neared the garage door the first of the figures – bloodied and torn from the windows, presumably – lunged toward them. 

The gunshot was so loud at Tess’s ear that for a moment she didn’t know what it was.  Joel emptied the entire clip into the shapes – there was more than one, how could she not have seen that – and cut them down until they lay strewn on the carpet laid only four months ago.  Tess looked back at him.

He seemed more shocked than she was.  Nico squalling on his hip, the gun still pointing off into the living room.   Tess pushed his arm down and urged him into the kitchen, thinking of the garage and the steps they would need to take to get out. 

Another figure threw itself at them.  It must have come through the other side.  She could see glass in the man’s hair and it tinkled in his wake like fairy dust.  Joel tried to shoot but he was out and then it was on him.  Joel turned Nico away and threw up his arm. 

The kettle was in Tess’s hands before she could think.  It was the first thing within reach. She swung it straight at the head – maybe she shouted, maybe not – and it took three tries to crack the exterior and drop the attacker.  Springs bounced across the kitchen tile.  Tess hit him two, maybe three – maybe ten more times when he was down until she was sure.  She might’ve kept going if Joel didn’t grab her.

“Come on!”

“Are you okay?!”  She clutched at him, at Nico.  He was shocked to silence, gaping at the carnage.  Perhaps he was finally, properly scared.  “Is he okay?”

“We’re okay!  Tess, come on!”

With her free hand, Tess snagged the entire knife block – all seven that had been a wedding gift from Julian – and tucked it under her arm. Joel pushed her into the garage and she had time to grasp just Nico’s bag.   They threw it in the back.

“What’s that?!”

“The knives!”

“What?!”

“You’re out of ammo!”

“I got more!”

“I didn’t know!  Get the door!”

“His seat – ”

“There’s not time!  You’ll have to hold him!”

Sounds inside the house again, a thump against the closed door.

Tess pointed.  “Get the door!”

They pulled out of the driveway moments before the kitchen door crashed inward.  Tess pulled out and stopped with a jerk when she hit something –

“Letterbox!”

“It’s on the other side!”  She cried.

“Just fuckin’ go!”

Tess turned the wheel hard and they sped into madness.

[gofancyninjaworld]

Started watching Mob Psycho 100. About 5 episodes in and yeah, I get why this show is so popular. It's good, even real good, so far. Mob is a good protagonist and the animation has been really impressive.

I also recently started reading One Punch Man and it's fine. I like the art and every now and again it gives me a chuckle. But ultimately I think OPM has a fairly conservative world view that makes me hard to enjoy it as anything more than easy fluff. It's all about the power of the individual and has some really questionable class politics in places. I know it's not intended for a deep read, but I can't help it. I'm glad I'm reading it through the library instead of buying individual volumes. I think I'm like 21 volumes into it.

Back to MP100, I'm still early so I can't say for sure yet, but I feel like it is the better written and realized of the two. I'm a sucker for the monster-of-the-week style format and so far it has been nailing while also developing the characters pretty well.

I gotta say, I'm impressed. I'm usually pretty cautious around checking out popular things since I tend to not enjoy them. So far that's not the case here.

First, I'm glad that your library has a lot of the OPM volumes: it's great for the series and a very wise way to read. If I didn't have my library cards, I'd be perma-broke and out of space in my home. :D

Second, I hope by now that you've finished reading Mob Psycho 100. I think it's a fantastic work and while there's a part of me that hankers for ONE to find something more he wants to say in that world and tell another story, a bigger part of me really respects that he's known how to tell 'a big story of a small step' and end there. It is one of the best coming-of-age stories I've read or watched. If you haven't checked out the anime, DO! It is incredibly well-realised, imaginative, and every season builds better on the previous.

Yes, now that you mention it, One-Punch Man does feel more conservative than Mob Psycho 100 in *some* ways. Whereas the latter is about middle schoolers exploring how to shape themselves, OPM is about the challenge of having a sense of purpose as an adult and balancing act of being an individual and being part of society. And no one quite knows what they're doing...

The various kids in MP100 may have challenges as small as getting someone to sign up for a school club or as big as stopping a would-be megalomaniac from taking over Japan, but they're free to focus on those problems. Their parents keep a roof over their heads, cook dinner, draw up budgets, pay bills, and prompt them to do homework. Their schools give them a ready-made social context in which to interact repeatedly and shape their goals. They're free to be children and it's precious.

OPM, almost everyone is an adult, and adult life is both less and more structured than that of childhood. There's a lot more to balance, you don't have infinite energy, time, or resources, and if you get it wrong, life gets super hard. We get Saitama: he's become the strongest man in the world thanks to his singular focus on being so strong that he can send any enemy flying with a single punch -- and he's also homeless (he's squatting in an abandoned apartment), with no post-secondary qualifications, no steady job (he's held lots of menial jobs, keeping them only long enough to quit and live off them so he can be a hero). The idealism of being a hero may get you thanked, but thanks don't pay the rent: that's why the Hero Association came to exist, in order to enable people motivated to be heroes to actually focus on it. It'd be a short story if Genos hadn't introduced Saitama to the HA.

Those checks and compromises necessary to survive and thrive in society do give OPM a more conservative feel. However, on the other side, there's no one telling you how far you can go. Difficult as it is, there's more scope for self-actualisation for the characters in OPM than there is for those in MP100. And there's no one way to do it. Swings and roundabouts.

Not sure how OPM will end yet, but so far, I'm still finding it compelling.

Given how long this has been in my inbox, I have no idea if you will read this. If you do (and I hope you do), thank you. Thank you for an awesome ask.

[fanficsandfluff]

Squealing Santa 2k23: All the Maybes in the World

Fandom: Peacemaker (DCEU)

Characters: Peacemaker (Christopher Smith), Vigilante (Adrian Chase)

A/N: Happy Holidays, @fluffy-lee-boa! It has been a hot minute since I've actually watched the show or seen Suicide Squad, but I sure did try my best. Peacemaker is a comfort character of mine, I love him to death, and I just want him to be happy.

Tried my best to take inspiration from your prompt: "Maybe Character A discovering he’s ticklish for the first time and wanting to bond with the Character B so they ask about it."

Thank you @squealing-santa for your organization and hosting another year of this fantastic tradition!

It's been a pleasure being able to provide you with your 2023 Squealing Santa fic!

"Is it bad?"

"No."

"Is it good?"

"If it wasn't bad, wouldn't you then assume it was automatically the opposite?"

"Is it cancer?"

"Adrian, what the fuck."

Christopher Smith pinched his temple between two fingers, letting out a very drawn-out sigh. When he came to his friend about his... well... discovery, let's put it, he had no idea how dense Adrian would be nor how difficult it was for him to actually explain himself.

"Well, you're not giving me the best clues, you know. You can make this clearer and stop beating around the bush if you just admitted you loved me," Adrian said in his oh-so-oblivious yet sincere way, pushing his glasses further up his face. This admission gave Christopher another reason to groan, this time into both hands that now shrouded his face.

"That's-That's not it, Adrian."

"Yeah, okay," Adrian scoffed.

Christopher finally looked up from his dejected position and furrowed his brow. Just come clean. Why was it so hard? He wanted to talk about it in the first place and now that the moment was here, he was too fucking embarrassed.

"Em did something to me that no one's done in a really, really long time and it was... surprising? It just--"

"Who's Em?"

Christopher turned his head to look at Adrian and gave him the benefit of the doubt, knowing the nickname had been pretty new to him and her, "Emilia, sorry."

"Who's Emilia?"

Benefit fucking obliterated.

"E-Emilia. You've worked with her for the past month."

"I have?"

"Harcourt--"

"Oh! Why didn't you just say so! Jesus, dude, here I am thinking Emilia was Eagly's other name or something."

Christopher was just about ready to walk out of his own goddamn trailer.

"So..." Adrian scooted a hair closer to Christopher on his buddy's couch, grinning, "What'd you two get up to?"

"She tickled me."

Adrian was still grinning, still nodding his head, tongue poking out like he was hearing some sick story about his best friend and teammate getting it on together, until, "Huh?"

"I know... I didn't know what was happening at first. And I just-- reacted! Then I shut down, she asked me about it, and pssh, I barely knew what the fuck I was feeling so I booked it out of there."

"Why'd you run away?"

"Because..." Christopher's mouth was fully ready to continue speaking, but his brain stopped him short. Why did he leave the situation so quickly? From what he'd heard about it, tickling wasn't too bad. But every part of his body wanted to flee the scene the moment it happened.

"Did Keith ever tickle you?"

In a rare moment of sincere clarity, Adrian hit the nail on the head with that unidentified trauma.

Of course. When the brothers would sneak around to avoid their father, the two would do anything they could to keep their spirits up. And that definitely included a tickle fight here or there, ones that young Christopher would lose more often than not. And if dad ever found them, he'd hurl the homophobic and incestual slurs. So, yeah, Chris never thought about that in a really, really long time. Until today. Until his fight or flight kicked in because of one stray touch along his ribs.

Christopher ended up nodding slowly after what he was sure was many moments of silence as he was taken back to decades ago. Adrian even let him have these moments, which was another big win for his character.

The realization dawned upon Adrian in a heartbeat later, and he was smiling wide, "You're ticklish?"

Chris felt an unfamiliar flush build in his cheeks and he glanced at his friend, "Yes, but don't get any ideas, Adrian, I swear to god."

"Wouldn't dream of it," not, "I just can't believe the Peacemaker is ticklish! Who would've guessed?" even Adrian let out a small, excited giggle.

"And you aren't? Why's it such a big deal? I bet you like it, too, you sick freak," even though Christopher came to Adrian to confess and get some advice about his predicament, he couldn't avoid hurling insults as his defense mechanism. Can't get too close now, remember.

"Oh, I do," Adrian thumbed his glasses again, nodding and possessing a very matter-of-fact look about him, "It's one of my favorite torture methods."

Chris made a face, knowing in that moment Adrian definitely meant to torture and to be tortured.

"What's there to like?" he asked more genuinely.

"It's so much fun, dude! The tingles, the nerve endings, the effortless laughter," Adrian was smiling just thinking about it, and Christopher was squirming at just the mention.

It was then, in basking in the beautiful memories of being involved in tickling, that Adrian reached out and pinched at Christopher's side without abandon. Chris shot off the couch completely, screaming a, "What the fuck!"

Adrian giggled with pure glee coursing through his body at the discovery his best friend laid out before him, "Stop fighting it!" he bolted off the couch and ran straight at Christopher.

They played a brief game of cat and mouse, Chris hurling every kind of insult at Adrian in his avoidance of the inevitable. The ever-determined Adrian wound up cornering Christopher in his bedroom, avoiding objects that were hurled at his head in the process.

"Go fuck yourself. Fuck you, fuck your mom, fuck your aunt--"

"What's Aunt Kathy got to do with this?"

"Well I know you don't have a sister, otherwise I would've banged her already, dipshit."

Adrian grinned disturbingly at the thought. He wouldn't want any part in that intimate affair, of course, but him being able to say that Peacemaker was his brother-in-law was too tempting to not daydream of.

Christopher was genuinely considering jumping out his window once he ran out of small throwable objects. That split second of decision cost him big, as Adrian roundhouse kicked him directly into his bed.

Knowing he had nowhere else to go, nothing else he could do to prevent this, Christopher threw up his hands, "Wait wait wait wait! Adrian, wait!"

"Yeah, buddy?" Adrian straddled Chris and rested his own hands on his hips just waiting for whatever his idol and friend was going to say to him.

Christopher shut his eyes and took a few deep breaths before continuing his thought, "This is still new for me... I'd appreciate it if you, you know..." he swallowed, "took it easy."

Adrian couldn't believe his ears. Had he already converted Christopher into being okay with tickling? Not fighting back as much as his traumatized brain probably wanted him to? Adrian now felt he had a duty to uphold. To take a step in reversing whatever repressed, fucked up memories and feelings Christopher had towards tickling.

"Of course, dude," Adrian assured. He wiggled his fingers in quick anticipation and softly touched down on Christopher's belly. He could feel his friend tense beneath him and watched Christopher's hands land on his own face to cover up.

"No anti-torture techniques now, Mr. Military Man," Adrian chastised.

Adrian did take notice of Christopher making himself more vulnerable by lifting his hands like he did. And the Vigilante was not one to turn down the opportunity, so he clawed at Peacemaker's ribs, not pressing in too hard at the behest of his friend.

Christopher's arms immediately shot down and squeezed to his sides as laughs huffed their way through. When Adrian vibrated his fingers more quickly, that amped up Christopher's laughter, the much larger man rocking from side to side.

"Awesome," Adrian had a smile a mile wide at this discovery, at seeing his best friend and idol laughing this carefree.

Adrian tested out a few more spots on Chris's upper body, all earning him a variety of laughs. When he'd had his fill of exploiting his friend's weakness, he unhooked his legs from atop Christopher and knelt beside him on the bed. Chris took in deep breaths to recover and was rubbing his hands along the parts of his torso that still felt tingly.

"That was so much fun," Adrian decided to pitch in his two cents, smiling broadly.

Christopher was still processing what just transpired. He did think he should be feeling way more self-conscious after being so vulnerable like that, laid bare with all his emotions and his body. But no, he was actually feeling pretty good. Like the tickling was a stress-reliever. He would never admit any of this, however, of fucking course not.

"Economos is gonna die when he hears about this," Adrian seemed to be still in his own little fantasy world post-tickling, giggling at the idea of their teammates face when he tells him of Peacemaker's weakness.

"Oh, fuck no. You're not selling me out to Economos! I trusted you, man!" Christopher, fully on the rebound, saw the glint in Adrian's eyes behind the kid's glasses and the anticipatory smile on his stupid face, and, well... don't look a gift horse in the mouth.

Adrian was squealing and laughing before Christopher even laid a finger on him. And yeah, it was clear to Christopher just how much Adrian enjoyed being tickled. Which was actually kinda cute.

And as Christopher was getting his footing being the giver of tickles, not the receiver, he was quickly seeing how much more he preferred this side of it. Doing the tickles. Being a younger sibling first, then only child, he was only ever on the receiving end or receiving nothing at all. Adrian must have been used to this kind of treatment being Gut Chase's kid brother, so maybe that's why it grew like it did within him.

Either way, Chris was fine taking pointers from Adrian on how to tickle him more effectively, which was all kids of fucked. And Adrian swore not to tell anyone else on the team about this. While Adrian and secrets was a ticking time bomb, Christopher knew he needed the time to fully anticipate what was to come. Maybe the team knowing wasn't a bad thing. Maybe he avoided the situation with Emilia too quickly. Maybe there was still a chance for him to feel more grounded day by day, surrounding himself with loving people and loving acts. Fuck, he was getting soft... and maybe soft wasn't a bad thing, either.

[hedgiwithapen]

Prompt: that Old Guard!Cisco thing you've talked about :)

Cisco wakes up, aching. For a moment, he's relieved. Dr. Wells being the Reverse Flash, the Trap being fake all along, it was all just a really awful nightmare. He makes a mental note to avoid burritos after 1 am for the foreseeable future.

Except that his shirt still has a bloodstain over his heart. And he isn't slumped over his desk or his couch, but the hard floor of the subbasement. Above and behind him, the trap looms like a cage. Cisco swallows. 

"Oh, no," he says, quiet. It still echoes. 

Dr. Wells killed him. Dr. Wells confessed to murdering Nora Allen, to being the Reverse Flash, and then he killed him. But somehow he's still alive.

Not for long, Cisco thinks bitterly. He's no speedster. The minute Wells--Thawne, he said his name was Thawne--learns that he fucked up the murder somehow, he'll just kill Cisco again.

Unless... Maybe, if he doesn't realize Cisco's a threat. If he changes his shirt, claims he doesn't remember anything... Faking Amnesia's gotta be the dumbest trick in the book, but he's a little short on pages at the moment. He's already going to die, probably. 

Cisco bites his lip, then stands, wobbling, and goes to get his laptop. He'll find a way to leave a message, just in case. Not for Caitlin-- Wells probably already killed her.

Cisco staggers at the thought, the sudden grief. He swallows hard. He has to play this exactly right.

He can hear Wells talking, his voice echoing down the curved corridor. 

"Barry, I'm sorry. There was nothing I could do, he was too fast..."

Cisco took a breath, and a step. 

"Cisco!" Barry yelped, running for him. Cisco held back the flinch at the lightning, letting Barry hug him. He was damp, the suit was soaked. "Oh my god, I was--I thought you were--Dr. Wells said--"

Dr Wells sat in his wheelchair, his eyes redrimmed. From crying, not evil lightning, Cisco notes. Fake crying, probably. He stares at Cisco. Cisco stares back. 

Caitlin rushes into the hug. "Cisco, how did you get away?"

"Uh," Cisco says, trying to piece together an answer that'll fit with whatever story Wells was spinning. 

"I really don't--I hit my head pretty hard. It's all kind of a blur. Can I sit down?" Before he finishes, there's a chair under him.

"I'm so sorry," Barry says, earnest. "I should have been there to save you. There was a tidal wave, and--Joe's in the hospital, but--Dr. Wells said--Caitlin said..."

"The Reverse Flash kidnapped you both," Caitlin interrupts. "Dr. Wells thought you were dead, I thought...."

"Yeah," Cisco says. " I... really don't remember--I came in here to see if there was anything to find Mardon and... then I was in the hallway. I../"

"I'm just glad you're alive," Caitlin says. "Let me make sure you don't have any internal bleeding, or--a TBI--well, you must, if you don't remember--but--" She cuts herself off, going to find her flashlight and kit.

"Cisco," Wells says, urgency in his voice. Cisco makes himself smile and not shudder back. "I'm...I can't tell you how good it is to see you."

"Yeah," says Cisco. "I'm glad you're alright, too."

"Here," Caitlin says. "Barry, can you get him to the medbay for me?"

Cisco blinks twice, feeling the sheets beneath him. "Fast," he says. He looks around. " So. Uh."

"Cisco," Caitlin says, looking at Barry. " You really don't--do you remember why you wanted me to..." she lowers her voice. " distract Dr. Wells? Before he got taken?"

"Oh," Cisco says, looking around. Barry's hovering anxiously. Wells isn't here yet, which is either good or extremely bad.  "Uh. Yes. I think I'm a metahuman."

"Oh," says Caitlin. "That's... it?"

"Pretty much," Cisco says.

"What can you do?" Barry asks. 

"Mmmmm, you might wanna sit down. Wait. FIRST you might want to get Iris, and Joe and Eddie, and maybe my family if you can and get them very far away and not tell anyone where, ok?"

*

The dreams start that night. Cisco's barely asleep on Joe's couch, the rest of them all piled into the house for the sake of numbers. Eobard Thawne's body lies somewhere in the pipeline, left after being sure. Both Eddie and Joe's gun's worth of bullets sure. He dreams of a woman in the water, drowning, and wakes with a hand over his heart. 

He doesn't speak of it the next morning.

None of them want to leave, not even to go get coffee, but some how the world goes on. Barry stopped the tidal wave but there's still so much fallout from that, and the fight through the streets.  Cisco stays on the couch while Iris sits in the kitchen, writing her article for a noon deadline, even though she was up half the night with it already. 

When the front door splinters, Cisco braces.

"Hey, kid." A woman with short cropped hair says. " Need you to come with me."

"Uh.. no," Cisco says. Somehow dying twice in a day has made him braver.  

The woman looks over her shoulder. A handsome guy with a beard extends a hand. "You're one of us. For your safety..."

"No, thanks," Cisco says, inching a hand for his phone. He needs Barry to get here before Iris hears and yells and gets her very-much-not-immortal-neck snapped, or whatever. "I'm good."

"You died yesterday," says the Woman.

"Yup," Cisco says, still going for his phone, until the guy with the beard spots his hand.  "And yet!"

"People will notice."

"They definitely did."

"All the more reason to hide. This City isn't safe for you. There's rumors about a lab..."

"Which I work for," Cisco interrupts, then wishes he hadn't when he sees the murderous look in the guy's eyes. "Doing totally normal things. Like make  stuff that can stop giant lightning storms that almost took out the police station. tech stuff. Very cool. Can you leave?"

"You're going to end up in a cage if you stay."

"I mean, maybe, but seeing as how everyone I'm friends with is already on whatever shady science and evil government wish list, I think I'm good here."

"...explain." The woman sits. "I'm Andy."

"And we're sitting. Cool," says Cisco. "Feeling a little outnumbered here. can I phone a friend? Also a metahuman, great guy."

"No."

"Well, it's his house," Cisco says, poking the beacon button. "Look, I hope you're here to be concerned and not kidnap me, because really, I'm fine. And the last time someone tried to kidnap one of my friends it didn't go great. it was a whole thing like, a month ago? So really, I'm in good hands here."

"A month ago," the guy repeats. "I'm Joe, by the way."

"Oh, that's going to be confusing."

"That wouldn't have been an army base, would it? Blown up entirely?" Andy asks.

"It was a team effort," Cisco shrugs.  A flash of gold lightning breaks one of the intact windows in a roar. 

"Hey Flash," Cisco says. "Got company! Probably fine."

"Explain," Andy says. "From the beginning."

"Well he's the fastest man alive, and fifteen years ago....Look, this might take a while."

"We have time."

[moonlight-tmd]

"According to all known laws of aviation, there is no way that a bee should be able to fly. Its wings are too small to get its fat little body off the ground. The bee, of course, flies anyways. Because bees don't care what humans think is impossible."

I love that!! I wanna know prowlbee or blitzbee reactions! To both the remaining nubs of his wings and when he gets them fully back! Love the part-insecticon! bee au <33

This was bound to get quoted at some point, why am i surprised-

Ok so, to start this train off:

When Bee was injured none of them didn't knew what Waspinator meant- Bee's back was completely covered in energon and Bee himself had a hard time staying awake cuz of energon loss and pain. They were forced to wait outside medbay- after a long waiting perior Bee came out of medbay with Ratchet following close behind, They tried to talk to him but Bee just quickly retreated back to his room.

They all were really worried about him but what really caught eveyone's attention were the 2 short struts covered in tattered and sooted mesh of some sort hanging from his bandaid-covered back. They only saw it for a short time, standing in shock before Bee turned the corner and disappeared into his room.

"Were those...?" "Wings? Yes,.. or rather what is left of them." Optimus' sentence was finished by Ratchet. They asked few questions, confused and worried.

"All I know is that they've been like this for a very long time now. Beyond repair in my opinion." Ratchet said before telling them Bee was off-duty for the time he recovers and that they don't speak to him about his wings if he doesn't want to. (more under cut cuz long)

Alright, ProwlBee version: (1/2) (Scroll down to skip to BlitzBee)

Prowl was very worried, he always was when Bee got hurt. Whenever they talked about animals that can fly Bee was always a tad bitter- now Prowl knew why. After Ratchet had explained he tried to talk to Bee but he jsut locked himself inside his room and wasn't answering to Prowl speaking thru the door.

The next day Bee was mostly staying away from the group, he had a blanket over his back and shoulders to hide the wing-nubs. He was acting like nothing happened and he was just recovering from an injury but Prowl saw right thru that facade- Bee was hurting and grieving. Prowl pulled him to his room and comforted him- they talked. Prowl eventually asked about his wings- slowly Bee opened up to him, he said basically what Ratchet told them, it was clear he didn't really wanna talk about it but he still did. At one point Prowl asked if he can see them so Bee sat in front of him and pulled his blanket down-

"How did this happen?" Prowl's vox was quiet, unsure of the ground he was treading on right now.

"...You know how i told you i had a bad time at Carequarters?" Bee prompted. At one point of their relationship they shared their sparklinghood stories- Prowl knew Bee had been living in Carequarters before running away and living on the streets- the one Caretaker there was very abusive towards Bee especially, She had punished Bee for any reason- he endured physical or mental abuse, he was almost treated like a slave there. Prowl didn't like where this was going...

"She didn't-..." Prowl stuttered.

"She did...." Bee only said before going completely quiet. They just sat there, Bee's back and wings towards Prowl. Bee just stared at the floor, unable to do or say anything else.

The only thing that broke the long silence afterwards was Prowl's gentle hug and the spot he rested his helm of getting wet by his tears. Bee felt shivers on his back- Prowl let him go as soon as he felt Bee move away in fear he might have accidentally hurt him. They looked at each other and Bee started crying too. So they just sat there in a comforting hug.

Prowl was very gentle with Bee in his recovery. He made sure the blanket over his shoulders was secure and wouldn't fall off. Since Bee couldn't lay on his back or his sides cuz they hurt he was bound to recharge on his chassis, Prowl let him cuddle on top of him when they went to recharge together. He also helped him when Bee had to pick up stuff from the floor. He stayed by his side 24/7 almost.

If Prowl was watching a documentary about birds or insects that fly he's switch the channel, Bee has told him that he can watch them if he wants and that he won't be upset but Prowl insisted that he can watch repeats on his own and right now he wants to watch something both of them would enjoy. It's a small thing but it brought a smile to Bee's face.

So after Bee recovered and his subspace was put back into place nothing really happened. Only like about 2 months later Blackarachnia showed up with her weird bug-robots with acid weapons something did happen- she shot Bee with a dart with some toxin and he started to act weird. He was all sleepy and hungry all the time. Ratchet didn't know what happened- his systems seemed fine but there was definitelly something up. Bee was also getting sensitive to touch, he avoided it almost- one night despite Prowl insisting he recharge with him, he refused and said he just needed to rest by himself for a little.

And that's the night it happened.

Bee was unaware of what was happening- he tossed and turned in his berth, knocking all plushies and covers off. Some weird substance began leaking out of his transformation seams and intake. He rolled in it and slowly, layer after layer a cocoon was formed.

The next day Prowl woke up later than usual, the rest of the team was already awake by the time we got out of his room to refuel. Sari(upgraded), who was at the base, went to see how Bee was doing- they heard a scream and rushed to his room- only to find the metallic cocoon laying on his berth.

Everyone was panicking, what is this, what happened, did Bee die- "That... looks like a cocoon." Prowl managed to break thru the shock and worry and answer their question. He didn't know what happened.

After everyone has somewhat calmed down they interviewed Prowl for answers since he was all about creatures and animals- he already knew what to do in winter when the team learned Bee was part-insecticon. And so, the cocoon was moved to medbay to monitor if Bee's still alive in there- it was tricky cuz whatever it was made of blocked the life signature except for few places.

So nothing has happened and everyone was anxious, then about 3 weeks later when Sari was checking on the cocoon while the team was having a talk in the main room she heard... knocking? She looked closely and saw a crack forming on the cocoon and more scratching sounds.

"GUYS- SOMETHING'S HAPPENING!" She yelled as she flew out into the main room for a moment before rushing back in medbay with the rest following. They all gathered around the medberth the cocoon was on watching as more cracks formed... as the cocoon was almost open, Prowl remembered something particular about insecticons hatching.

"Wait- I don't think we should stand this clo-" Prowl tried to warn them but it was too late- the cocoon exploded open and all the slimy stuff sprayed on Optimus, Bulkead and Prowl. Ratchet didn't risk it so he stood a litte further away and Sari hid behind Optimus just in time.

They had little time to act grossed out before something began to move inside the open cocoon- slowly a little clawed servo appeared at the edge, then another,.. and then Bee's helm with a sleepy expression.

"Ughhh, what happened?..." He said as he blinked open his optics, he looked at his servo. "Why am I all slimy 'n' stuff?"

The others were relieved to see him alive. Optimus helped him out of the cocoon cuz he was stuggling a little- the slimy dripped off of his frame as Optimus held him up and placed him next to it on the medberth. His frame was different- covered in some sort of ruffled- fur? He also had a metal abdomen- or his subspace on his rear. It was all kinda sticky cuz of the slime but it had dried off rather quickly. He was a bit dizzy when the others explained what happened, he didn't even know it was possible. At some point he shook himself off from the remaining moisture and that's when his wings lifted- presenting themselves in their full glory, spread behind his back.

Bee was confused until they mentioned what was on his back- he tried to turn around and get the best look at them as possible- it was... how? He was so joyous and confused and panicked and flabergasted- he did start crying a little his wings fluttered rapidly cuz he was so happy- he almost flew off the medberth cuz of how fast his wings moved.

They spend the rest of the evening marveling at what Bee has become- surpriusingly the insecticon genes only affected his root mode- his car alt mode was completely intact besides having fluffy seats now.

Prowl was actually overwhelmed- Bee was okay and alive, but he also was something different! He was already fascinated by the cocoon and very curious what Bee will look like when he comes out but this was more that he imagined. Especially when Sari made a grand discovery when she hugged Bee after he dried off from the slime- he was soft. Very soft. She literally buried her face in his fluff and wouldn't let go. Prowl has tried to hold off from touching Bee too much- he was still very cuddly when it came to public affection. But BOY once they were all alone getting ready to recharge- Prowl has trapped Bee in a hug and buried his faceplate in his collar-fluff and DID NOT let go even after they woke up the next morning. He helped Bee learn how to hover and fly, Bee would pick him up and they'd fly in circles around the plant all the time. Another thing was that Bee buzzed when he was happy- his wings fluttered and made sound that could be put on same level as purring. It was adorable. His glossa became interesting too- it was oddly long and could act like a straw. Prowl was not amused when Bee decided to leave a long, wet lick on his faceplate as a joke.

Bee was so happy and Prowl was so happy for him- If he thought Bee was cute before then now that cuteness has tenfolded.

Aight so now is the BlitzBee version: (2/2) (this one is a little better in my opinion. So to spare you reading back and forth i will just copy-paste story parts over to this version and make this post longer :3 )

Blitzwing has switched sides a while ago, Megatron and other 'cons have been captured with his help. Everything was fine- then Waspinator showed up and hurt his little hummel. He was anxiously waiting outside medbay, it's been almost 2 hours since Bee got in there all bloody. The doors opened and Bee stepped out, Blitz was quick to rush to him but Bee dodged him and quickly retreated to him room. Blitz was about to call out but the words died in his vocalizer as he saw a familiar shaped struts sprouting from Bee's patched up back. He knew what those were at first glance- and the state they were in was horrifying, even if he saw them for just a short moment. He barely registered what Ratchet said, he went after Bee in amidst conversation.

They were quartered together since the start of Blitz being an Autobot, he had the right to go into his own room- he knocked and called out to Bee, when he didn't get an answer he slowly opened the door and peeked in- Bee was bundled up in the big blanket on their shared, enlarged berth. He came in, closed the door and sat next to Bee. Bee didn't want to talk at first and stayed quiet, but few prompting words form Blitz did the trick and Bee started talking a little. Blitz asked about the wings and why didn't he tell him. Bee told him there was no point in showing cuz they're useless anyway and he often forgot he even had them.

"How long have zhey been like zhis?" Blitzwing has asked soon.

"Long enough for the thing you call "Grounder Disease" to fully develop..." Bee has answered, sadness in his voice always present.

"The Caretaker said that 'Autobots having wings is wrong'... so she burned them..." Bee simply said when Blitzwing asked what made them like this. At one point of their relationship they shared their stories from the past- Blitz knew Bee had been living in Carequarters before running away and living on the streets- the one Caretaker there was very abusive towards Bee especially, She had punished Bee for any reason- he endured physical and mental abuse, he was almost treated like a slave there. Blitz didn't say anything. After a very long silence the only thing heard was a quiet whirl of his faceplates changing as he pulled Bee into a gentle yet firm hug. Bee felt Blitzwing shake, he felt the wetness growing on his shoulder but he didn't do anything except lean into the hug. Blitz was crying- mourning the tragic and unfair loss of the one thing every flier cherished. He couldn't imagine living without his own wings- whenever Bee went flying with him he always marveled at the beauty of the sky and the view from up above. Knowing that Bee could have had experienced such wonders independently and freely hurt- he was robbed of something before he even knew it. Blitz was there, his hotheaded personality silently crying while holding Bee close ot his Spark, the emotions locked inside brewing a storm while the outside stood still.

Blitz was extremely gentle and protective of him in his recovery, often opting to carry the minibot aroudn instead of letting him walk on his own. He spoke to Bee about his wings sometimes, never pushed Bee to talk if he really didn't want to. Blitzwing was the only one Bee would let down the blanket for and let him see or touch the damaged nubs of wings he had. Bee was embarrased to show him- Blitzwing had such beautiful and strong wings and he... he just had those dark, weak things growing out of his back for no purpose. At some point when Blitz was looking over Bee's broken pride he asked if he wanted to regain control over them.

"But what the point? They're useless anyway..." Being Bee's answer. His wings were broken, he couldn't fly so what was the point in wanting them to move?

"Maybe... but knowing zhey are zhere is a very important zhing zhat any flier would tell jou." Blitz said. Bee never responded to that so he dropped the topic- what he didn't know was that this has been haunting Bee's processor for the rest of his recovery days.

Once Bee was getting fixed by Ratchet and it was just them 2, he asked the medic about the Grounder Disease Therapy.

"I mean, i know they're useless and i'll never fly with them... but it still would be cool if i could move them again." Bee confessed then, the tiniest tug on his derma forming a hopeful smile present. Ratchet agreed to help him.

So, from then on Bee's been going to medbay with Ratchet everyday- the others noticed that and were worried but Bee clarified everything was fine. Blitzwing however was near panicking cuz Bee didn't tell him about what was wrong and why he's in medbay so often. As the 2 week mark hit Bee pulled Blitz into their room and locked the door. He was oddly happy having just gone out of medbay. Blitz couldn't take it and nearly yelled at Bee to tell him what is wrong. Bee explained that he remembered what Blitz said about that therapy- he sat in front of him, back facing Blitzwing, his subspace clicked and slid down revealing the sad little wing-nubs. But Bee wasn't all sad like last time, in fact he todl Blitz to look closely- after few small grunts something happened; Bee's wing-nubs have twitched.

Bee was so happy and so was Blitz. He was there every step of the way, Bee's area on the back with wings was always numb but with the therapy ongoing he was beginning to get the feeling in it again. One day after 2 months of therapy when Blitz was chatting with Bee and running his servos along his back to soothe the soreness after therapy , he felt a tickle on his servos. Bee was laughing and if he looked down he would see these 2 little tattered nubs twitching happily.

"Blitz?" Bee asked when Blitz has been quiet for too long.

"Hummel... JA DOING ZHE HAPPY FLUTTERS!!" He began to say before switching to his random face and picking Bee up and spinning with him. "HOORAY FOR HAPPY FLUTTERS! HAPPY BEE GO BUZZ BUZZ!!"

Few days later however, things took a turn- Blackarachnia showed up with her weird bug-robots with acid weapons something happened- she shot Bee with a dart with some toxin and he started to act weird. He was all sleepy and hungry all the time. Ratchet didn't know what happened- his systems seemed fine but there was definitelly something up. Bee was also getting sensitive to touch, he avoided it almost- Blitzwing was very worried, Bee has stopped cuddling up to him. One night Bee just wasn't feeling it at all and said he just needed to rest by himself for a little. So Blitz was recharging on the couch that night.

And that's the night it happened.

Bee was unaware of what was happening- he tossed and turned in his berth, knocking all plushies and covers off. Some weird substance began leaking out of his transformation seams and intake. He rolled in it and slowly, layer after layer a cocoon was formed.

Being adjusted to function in the night cycle most of the time, Blitz woke up way later than when Bee did. It was Prowl who woke him up, the rest of the team was already awake. Sari(upgraded), who was at the base, went to see how Bee was doing- they heard a scream and rushed to his room- only to find the metallic cocoon laying on his berth.

Blitz was so scared and confused- he knew he should have not left Bee alone- what happened?? Everyone was panicking, what is this, what happened, did Bee die- Blitz wanted to rip whatever this thing was open and get Bee out but Prowl stopepd him.

After everyone has somewhat calmed down they interviewed Prowl for answers since he was all about creatures and animals- he already knew what to do in winter when the team learned Bee was part-insecticon. And so, the cocoon was moved to medbay to monitor if Bee's still alive in there- it was tricky cuz whatever it was made of blocked the life signature except for few places. Blitzwing stayed by his encased hummel all the time. Sometimes he talked, sometimes he just sat there in silence and sculpted.

In the meantime Prowl and Sari were on a research quest trying to put the pieces together about bugs and insecticons- Blitz was very much panicked and freaked out when he heard that bugs melt inside cocoons- He refused to acknowledge it as true.

So nothing has happened and everyone was anxious, then about 3 weeks later when Sari was checking on the cocoon while the team was having a talk in the main room she heard... knocking? She looked closely and saw a crack forming on the cocoon and more scratching sounds.

"GUYS- SOMETHING'S HAPPENING!" She yelled as she flew out into the main room for a moment before rushing back in medbay with the rest following. They all gathered around the medberth the cocoon was on watching as more cracks formed... as the cocoon was almost open, Prowl remembered something particular about insecticons hatching.

"Wait- I don't think we should stand this clo-" Prowl tried to warn them but it was too late- the cocoon exploded open and all the slimy stuff sprayed on Optimus, Bulkhead, Blitzwing and Prowl. Ratchet didn't risk it so he stood a litte further away and Sari hid behind Optimus just in time.

They had little time to act grossed out before something began to move inside the open cocoon- slowly a little clawed servo appeared at the edge, then another,.. and then Bee's helm with a sleepy expression.

"Ughhh, what happened?..." He said as he blinked open his optics, he looked at his servo. "Why am I all slimy 'n' stuff?"

The others were relieved to see him alive. Blitz helped him out of the cocoon cuz he was stuggling a little- the slimy dripped off of his frame as Blitz held him up and placed him next to it on the medberth. His frame was different- covered in some sort of ruffled- fur? He also had a metal abdomen- or his subspace, on his rear. It was all kinda sticky cuz of the slime but it had dried off rather quickly. He was a bit dizzy when the others explained what happened, he didn't even know it was possible. At some point he shook himself off from the remaining moisture and that's when his wings lifted- presenting themselves in their full glory, spread behind his back. Bee was confused about their expressions until Blitz spoke up-

"Jour vings... Zhey're- switch ZHEY'RE SO PRETTY!!"

Bee tried to turn around and get the best look at them as possible- it was... how? He was so joyous and confused and panicked and flabergasted- he did start crying a little his wings fluttered rapidly cuz he was so happy- he almost flew off the medberth cuz of how fast his wings moved.

"HAHAHA! Don't get too happy now- or jou might fly avay!~" Blitz had joked as he caught Bee mid-air.

They spend the rest of the evening marveling at what Bee has become- surpriusingly the insecticon genes only affected his root mode- his car alt mode was completely intact besides having fluffy seats now.

Blitzwing was so happy- Bee was alive! And also cuter than ever! Sari made a grand discovery when she hugged Bee after he dried off from the slime- he was soft. Very soft. She literally buried her face in his fluff and wouldn't let go. Blitzwing wouldn't either- he would not stop hugging Bee at all- the whole time they talked Blitz had him on his lap. He was very gentle and considerate towards his wings too. Speaking of- Bee had put them on full display once they were alone in their room. They were so beautiful, the most beautiful wings he had ever seen. Of course Blitz would not have it any other way than to bury his faceplate in Bee's fluff for recharge, Bee had a odd but nice smell to him after hatching it was so surprising.

Blitz helped him learn how to fly and before they knew it Bee was zooming all around the base happily. Another thing was that Bee buzzed when he was happy- his wings fluttered and made sound that could be put on same level as purring. It was adorable. Some time after his hatching Sari and Bee were jokingly teasing one another, she has made a funny face at Bee with here tongue sticking out and Bee decided to mimic it- the look on everyone's faces when his glossa came out 5x as long, similar to Blitzwing's black face glossa. It was certainly interesting... Blitzwing now knew how it felt when he shoved his glossa down Bee's intake in a french kiss. It also acted as a straw for some reason which was a cool feat.

All in all, if he thought Bee was cute before then now that cuteness has tenfolded.

GEEZ THAT IS LONG- HOPE YOU SURVIVED THE TEXTWALL ONSLAUGHT.

[riahlynn101]

Whumptober: Day Three - Alterative Prompt: "Betrayal."

I felt bad about how short day three's story was, so here's another one for the alterative prompt: "betrayal." I wrote this in under an hour, so it might be a little messy. I'll edit it either tonight or tomorrow.

Trigger warnings: implied/referenced kidnapping and murder.

Enjoy Abby and Fredbear (*cough Garrett cough*) being cute dorks.

Implied Schmelly (Vanessa x Mike).

--

Trust, for Mike, is like a double-edged sword. 

Trusting people means letting them in. It means letting them see him vulnerable. It means letting them in on how hard he’s struggling, and how close he is to his breaking point. 

But it also means having someone to rely on.

He hasn’t had that in a long time. 

His mom had been distant following Garrett’s disappearance, and his dad’s death a few months before Abby was born didn’t help matters. But Mike had been determined to set things right. Their family was a mess for years, and he hadn’t wanted his little sister to grow up feeling their misery. Slowly but surely, his mom came out of her shell. 

Mike saw her smile for the first time in years, staring down at Abby. 

They became closer, too. The distance created between them slowly started to go away. It wasn’t a fast process, but Mike finally had his mom back. After years of anguish and suffering alone in his guilt, he had someone to place his utmost trust in. 

And then….

…..she was gone.

Abby is someone he trusts, but she’s a child. And, as a general rule, Mike refuses to share anything too “grown-up” like with her. She’s a child and should be treated as such. He won’t allow her to grow-up so fast. 

And that’s not to say he has no friends. He has several….from school (which he graduated from years ago). Mike just hasn’t reached out to them, but he has them (he pushed down the stinging feeling of rejection when, after writing to them about his father’s passing, they never reached out to talk. He had needed them, but apparently they never needed him). 

And that’s why, when Vanessa came into his life, he was hesitant on letting her in. But she was persistent above all other things, and someone that seemed to have his best interest at heart. 

Abby even seemed to like her - if the picture on their fridge is anything to go on. (Abby is a lot like him, he’s found, in that, she enjoys drawing - a lot. After their mom’s death, she had stopped entirely. So, seeing her draw a picture like that, soothed something deep inside.)

So, it isn’t a surprise when Mike, too, started to like her. 

Vanessa understood him in ways no one else ever has. She shared very little about herself, but a lingering sadness seemed to follow her. She reminded him of himself. 

Mike found himself telling her all his secrets. He told her about Garrett. About his worries with Abby being taken away. About not being enough. 

And she listened to them all, a sympathetic grimace on her face. Her hand would find his, and give it a gentle pat.

He felt like she understood. 

Vanessa was his friend. 

He had trusted her. 

“Why?” He breathes out, voice shaky. She isn’t looking at him, her head bowed. “I trusted you!”

Vanessa looks up at him, eyes watery. “My brother,” she started, “I did it for my brother.”

Mike wants so badly to scream at, to ask why she hadn’t told him about Steve Raglan (or should he say, William Afton). 

He feels sick. 

So, so sick. 

“What?” He asks, because Mike doesn’t think he can say anything else without breaking down. 

Vanessa just shakes her head, backing up from the machine he’s currently locked into. The head of one of the animatronics hovers above his face. 

His heart breaks for the millionth time in his life. 

Mike doesn’t bother to call out to her as she hurries from the parts and services room. It won’t change anything, and they both know that. 

 He can’t find it within himself to fight. 

Mike grits his teeth, grimacing as the machine suddenly starts. 

He hopes Abby forgives him. Aunt Jane isn’t the kindest person in the world, but maybe she had been right all along. Maybe Abby would be better off with her. 

The mask is inches from his face. 

Mike shuts his eyes. There’s no point in watching. He wonders if this is what those poor kids had to go through. 

His heart breaks again, for the millionth-and-one time. 

The whirring of the machine quiets down. 

“Mike!” Abby shouts. 

He opens his eyes to see another-more unfamiliar-animatronic standing above him. For one terrible second, Mike thinks his sister is talking to him from the suit. He screams out her name. He can take the heartbreak and betrayal, but if he let his sister down….

“Abby?” 

The animatronic-a yellow bear-seems to furrow its eyebrows, equally as confused as him. 

“Down here,” she says. He turns his head, sighing in relief when he sees his little sister in one piece. 

“Thank god, you’re okay.”

“Fredbear kept me safe,” she tells him, a small smile on her face. “He says he knows you.”

Mike doesn’t know whether to correct that assumption, or play into it. The bear decides for him, reaching forward to help him out of the suit. Its movements are gentle, but Mike can’t help the slight wince whenever it gets too close.

Soon enough, he’s out of the machine, the bottom-half of the Freddy costume lays on the floor behind them. 

“Thanks,” he mutters, crossing his arms. 

Its one undamaged ear wiggles at his words. “You’re welcome,” it says. 

Mike looks at his sister. “Have you seen Vanessa by chance?”

Abby shakes her head. “No, why?” 

“She…” Mike trails off. There’s no reason for him to tell Abby about her not being who they thought she was. This is new territory for both of them, but he’s pretty sure this falls under “grown-up stuff.” He shrugs his shoulders. “I’m just worried about her.”

Abby’s face lights up. “Well, she isn’t here, so I’m sure she’s okay.”

When her back is turned, Fredbear sends him an almost sad look. Like it knows that he’s lying for Abby’s sake.

He ignores it. 

“Let’s…go home.” He’ll have to come back another night. The contract he signed lasts five nights (seven if needed by the owner). But both Abby and him need sleep. It had been a long night. 

He takes her hand, leading her out of the building. His car is still parked out front. It’s not until Fredbear opens the door to his passenger side that he realizes it has followed him out of the restaurant. 

“Not to be rude, but what are you doing?” He asks. 

Abby answers for it. “He’s coming home with us. He says he used to live with you.”

“I want to go home,” it says, but it’s voice wavers between the cartoonishly deep voice that he's come to associate with Freddy, and another, smaller one that reminds him of…

“Okay,” Mike murmurs, too exhausted to fight, “but buckle your seatbelt.”

Its ear wiggles, again, and he can see Abby smiling in the rearview mirror. 

He pulls the car into reverse.

Tomorrow is another day. 

[freetobeeyouandme]

I'm Starvin', Darlin'

Tags: Rated T, No Archive Warnings Apply, Will Byers/Mike Wheeler, Bylerween 2023, Slight Angst, Starvation, Brief Mentions of Cannibalism and Dying, Prompt: Trapped in the Upside Down

Words: 2.8k

Summary:

In the end all he can say is: “I have a bad idea.” “Worse than standing too close to a gate and getting dragged into the Upside Down as it closes?” “Depends.” He scoots closer. Lets go of Will’s hand to properly cup his face. He’s so close that he can smell Will’s breath: Acidic and dry. Kinda bad. “On what?” Will says, breathless. - Or, Bylerween Day 1: Trapped in the Upside Down

read on Ao3 or below; see whole collection

A/N: Happy Bylerween one and all! I normally have a hard time coming up with shorter stories, so it's been fun trying to figure out what to write for each day, especially since I wanted to do every day and not just the ones I immediately had inspiration for. The solution was picking a common theme across the board, which ended up being kissing - something else I could use the practice with and something that was very fun to combine with the sometimes more horror themed prompts I picked. For today we got "Trapped in the Upside Down", so enjoy! CW (not sure if necessary): Starvation,brief mentions of cannibalism and dying

-------

It’s strange, Mike thinks, how quickly the temperature has stopped bothering him. It feels like perpetual winter here, except that it’s no winter wonderland. Wish that it were – the magic of that would have quickly faded, too, but at least for a while they could have pretended. Instead they had gotten dim light with spores flitting through the air like tiny evil dust motes and vines crawling along the floor like snakes, ready to constrict and suffocate whatever enemies their master had.

And they had gotten the cold.

It’s the sharp, freezing chill of a calm winters day, with no harsh winds biting at your clothes or heavy snowfall obscuring what little remains of the sun when the days are short. It’s a cold that doesn’t even register at first until you’re already freezing, frog in a boiling pot except Mike would do anything right now to be that frog. Because down here the sun has never once risen to warm a single inch of this lifeless, barren land.

They had done their best to combat the cold, but by now it has seeped under the blankets and their shirts as well, settling wetly into every inch of them, toes to fingertips. But Mike has gotten used to that, since. Exist in one state for too long and you got used to a lot of things.

He’s used to the hunger, too. His stomach had given up a few days ago now, and the dizziness that came with the hollow in his stomach had turned into simple, perpetual exhaustion. It’s a softer feeling, less painful. His body simply does not have enough energy to keep warm and also stay awake.

They’d counted days, at first, but once they’d begun drifting off, they had begun blurring into one another. He remembers the first day, the trek through the dead landscape until they found the dark mirror of Hop’s cabin. They had contacted the other side, carefully spelling out messages in morse code and then using El as a radio to let their families know where they were. That they were as safe as they could be in this place. That they would be waiting right here.

He’s not sure how long it’s been since then. He’d been freezing already by the time they tried to fix Hop’s old bed and collected whatever half decent blankets they could find to create some semblance of comfort. And since then they haven’t really moved. There’s no food to forage, no water to find. Spending their energy on a trek into town to find more fabric isn’t worth the energy they’d lose.

So they’ve just been laying here. Trying to conserve heat and energy (which really are the same things, Mike’s inner Mr. Clarke points out unhelpfully). Trying not to think about how they might die here. Just like this.

A few years back one of his grandmother’s neighbors had died at home while Mike and Nancy were visiting her. Nanna had said he’d gotten lucky, that to die in your sleep was really the best way to go. You just fell asleep and that was it. No pain. You didn’t even notice. She’d said that was how she wanted to go, and back then that had seemed like a sensible thing to Mike.

Now it’s the scariest thing he can think of. To simply drift off and never wake in this cold hell? To leave Will to fend for himself? To die not knowing if Will, at least, will make it out?

Worse, to wake up and find Will even colder next to him, no heartbeat, no breath?

Mike reaches out, tapping his finger lightly against Will’s elbow. He’s laying curled around himself, his back ever so slightly to Mike, but Mike’s insistent tapping brings him back around. He uses the opening to slip his hand into Will’s. This time Will doesn’t pull back.

Mike had tried earlier, thinking that the closer a space they could create under the blankets, the easier it would be for their bodies to recycle the heat. But Will had scooted away at the lightest touch, and Mike hadn’t given chase because the bed was only so big.

Now Will lets him slide his fingers between his. Lets him scoot closer.

Not that it’s going to help with the warmth at all.

“If you wake up and I’m dead you have my permission to eat me,” Mike says with no preamble. There is no way to lead into this conversation.

Will stares at their intertwined hands, frowning. Then he says: “If anything you should be eating me. It’s my fault we’re in this situation in the first place.”

And there it is. Mike had been waiting for Will to say that – knew Will was bound to take the blame. It doesn’t mean Mike is ready to agree with him. They both could be stubborn like that.

“Will-”

“No. If it wasn’t for me you wouldn’t be here. I was trying to hold onto something and then you fell in with me, and I’m sorry.”

Mike shakes his head. “You weren’t the only one trying to stop you from falling in. I could have let go before I fell and I didn’t. Because this way at least you’re not alone.”

Will turns away, staring up at the dirty, overgrown ceiling above them. He says nothing. And Mike can’t read his face. Can’t figure out why his eyes shine with tears.

“Or did you want to be over here alone again?”

Will’s lack of a response should be answer enough. It’s not like Mike can’t guess what he’s thinking in that regard. But as Will continues to be quiet, looking pointedly away from Mike with tears in his eyes, he can’t bear letting him be quiet.

He pokes Will in the side with his free hand. “Did you? All alone while monsters prowl and-”

Will meets his eyes again, expression dead serious. His voice is shaking when he replies: “No.”

“Sorry,” Mike says.

Will shakes his head.

Mike squeezes his hand. He has the weird urge to reach out and brush the tears away from Will’s face, except no tears have even fallen yet. And he doesn’t think putting his thumb to Will’s quivering lips is going to help either.

“They’ll find us,” he tries to reassure Will and himself. “They’re working on a way to get another gate open and then we can leave. No one’s going to eat anyone.”

“What’s the first thing you’ll do when we’re right side up again?” Will asks, indulging Mike’s overly optimistic speculation about their future.

Mike has to think about that for a second. He had been busier conjuring visions of death than of survival. “Drink something? I think we still had like half a bottle of iced tea in the fridge when I left, so I’ll drink all of that. I’ll take a warm one too, I don’t care.”

“Yeah. Or some coke. Even a nice shaken up soda.”

Mike hums in agreement. “And then I’d pop some pop tarts into the toaster while I drink. I could eat a whole carton.”

“And some chocolate.”

“Yeah, some chocolate. Some eggos. Fuck, I’d eat broccoli right now if that just meant I had something to eat.”

Will giggles.

“What?”

“I like broccoli.”

Mike puts his hand against Will’s cheek but doesn’t actually push him away, not even playfully. “You’re weird. Like so weird. You know that, right?”

Will smiles tightly but says nothing. Mike shakes his head, shuddering as his dead mouth remembers the taste of broccoli. Maybe he’ll take that back. It’d be the ultimate test of how hungry he really is if the choice was between broccoli and starvation.

Finally, Will says: “You’d just throw it all up again.”

“Did you?”

Will shakes his head. “They wouldn’t let me eat enough to throw it back up. But- I didn’t even want to eat that much. You stop being hungry after a while, even when there’s food again.”

Mike doesn’t know what to say. He wants to wrap his arms – wrap his whole body – around Will. Both to comfort him and to reassure himself that Will’s still there and breathing.

“Well, we’ll throw ourselves a feast and we’ll eat until we’re sick. They can’t stop both of us.”

Will laughs. He twists to the side, curling up towards Mike, and Mike feels thrilled by that simple movement. He can feel Will’s body shake across the mattress. Mike grins at him.

When he’s calmed down again, Will places his hand over where theirs rest intertwined on the mattress. “I’m glad you’re here with me.”

Mike gives him a smile. “Always.”

Will shakes his head. “That’s not- that’s bad self preservation.”

Mike shrugs.

“Mike-”

“I don’t care if we’re still fighting the Upside Down by the time we’re fifty, okay? We know about the dangers now so I’m not ever letting you deal with it on your own again. It’s really simple.”

Will smiles sadly, the tears back in his eyes. “You’ll have a wife and a family by the time you’re fifty. I don’t think they’ll like you running off to fight the Upside Down every time the Mindflayer rears its head.”

Mike is about to retort that he’d not leave Hawkins if he didn’t know the town would be safe, and so his future wife better know all about the Upside Down and fight it beside him, when Will’s phrasing gives him pause. He turns it over in his head for a quiet second, then says: “And you won’t?”

Will looks away but doesn’t turn. Yet.

When he doesn’t say anything, Mike says: “I know it looks like we’ve all figured it out already because we’ve had girlfriends, but it’s okay to be late to that.”

“Mike.”

“And I mean I think out of all of us girls like you the most. I mean Amanda Miller asked you to dance at the snowball. And Jennifer Hayes cried at your funeral. I’ve only ever been with El and we all know how that ended, don’t we?”

“Mike!”

“I’m just saying! Just because you haven’t figured out all your shit in High School doesn’t mean you’ll be single forever. Dating in college is gonna be much better anyway. Like, seriously, screw High School.”

Will squeezes his eyes shut, as if unhappy with the reassurance Mike was trying to give him. And Mike’s not sure why. Because that is the issue, right?

Will sighs as if he doesn’t want to say what he’s about to say next. “I have my shit figured out, it’s just that-” He breaks off, looking away as he can’t bring himself to finish the sentence.

“It’s just what?” Mike asks.

Will looks at him and then looks away again just as quickly. As if ashamed. And suddenly Mike understands. Will isn’t going to have a wife – or even just a girlfriend – because he doesn’t want one. Because what he wants-

“Oh.”

Will grimaces. “Yeah. Oh.”

“Hey,” Mike starts and then doesn’t know how to continue. What is he supposed to say to that? How is he supposed to make Will feel better? When he’s never even given much thought to it? Of course he knows that this is what the bullies said about Will, but to find out it’s true – it’s not a problem for him. He knows it can’t be, because it’s Will. And he could never have a problem with Will.

But there’s a queasy feeling in his stomach and Will looks close to tears again and they’re trapped here in the Upside Down together so he can’t even pretend to go to the bathroom to figure this out in private and instead has to readjust his worldview while Will watches on with those really, really sad Will Byers puppy-dog eyes and if Mike does anything wrong Will is going to be hurt even though he doesn’t want to hurt him because it’s Will and of course it’s alright with Mike that he’s-

“Mike?”

He closes his eyes. Exhales.

It’s alright with him. Does anything else matter right now?

He tries to give Will a smile. “It’s okay. You’re alright.”

“Yeah,” Will replies, not sounding like he believes it. “I’m alright.”

Mike scoots closer, squeezing Will’s hand. With his free one he brushes through Will’s hair. He’s not entirely sure why. It’s not a comfort they are used to giving each other, but it feels right.

“You are alright. It doesn’t matter to me. And it’s not going to matter to Lucas or Dustin or Max and El. Or your mom or Jonathan. Or anyone who’s important. And everyone else can go stick their opinion elsewhere.”

This time Will’s smile – his little laugh – is more genuine.

Mike lets his hand slip off Will a little. Pulls back until his palm is resting against Will’s cheek, cold and clammy. It’s there he freezes when the thought comes: How does Will know he wants to be kissing boys instead? Would it feel good? To kiss a boy?

To kiss Will?

“Mike?” Will sounds a little breathless, and for a second Mike worries he gave voice to those thoughts. But Will doesn’t look like he knows what Mike was thinking. Rather-

His pupils are blown wide. His mouth is open, his breath grazes Mike hotly.

Does Will want to kiss him?

For a second he can’t think or act as the possibility plays out in his mind. If the tension in his stomach is any indication he definitely wants to be kissing Will.

In the end all he can say is: “I have a bad idea.”

“Worse than standing too close to a gate and getting dragged into the Upside Down as it closes?”

Oh, he really wants to be kissing Will.

“Depends.” He scoots closer. Lets go of Will’s hand to properly cup his face. He’s so close that he can smell Will’s breath: Acidic and dry. Kinda bad.

He still wants to taste him, though.

“On what?” Will says, breathless.

Mike doesn’t say anything. Just meets his eyes.

Will swallows. Mike can feel him swallow, can feel the movement in his jaw. His eyes drop down to Will’s lips involuntarily.

Mike says nothing. Neither does Will. Somehow they take the last step together, though.

Will’s lips are dry against his. Not hard and unyielding, still soft, but there’s something of sandpaper in it. Cold sandpaper. And it doesn’t get much better when their mouths open. The bad breath translates to bad taste. There’s something sharp and metallic in there, and for a second Mike worries he’s split the tender, dry skin on Will’s lips by pressing in too hard. He pulls back to make sure there’s no blood, but Will’s lips are a pale, blueish purple, not red.

The kiss leaves a bitter aftertaste in his mouth, but he can’t bring himself to care. Can’t bring himself to stop. Will sighs into the next kiss and it doesn’t matter that they both taste of death – it’s warm and it’s good and if the little bit of exertion didn’t have them both panting like they ran a marathon Mike wouldn’t want to stop at all. Will’s fingers tracing his face feel so nice and he’d much rather lose himself in this than in the dim exhaustion of starvation.

Even as they pull apart they don’t move far, and Mike’s grateful for that. He’s not sure he has enough life left in him to go chasing after Will.

“Verdict?” Will asks, quietly and still somewhat out of breath. He’s not meeting Mike’s eyes, afraid of the answer.

Mike tilts his head, pressing a third, short kiss against Will’s lips.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh,” Mike says with a smile.

Will smiles back, first hesitantly, then unable to keep his joy inside of him. Mike knows the feeling. He presses another kiss to Will’s lips.

It’s bad, though. The bitter, acidic breath. The tang of cold metal.

He rolls onto his back a little, stretching out his arm behind Will’s head. Will accepts the invite without hesitation, scooting closer and putting his arms around Mike’s middle. They readjust the blankets. Cuddle up properly.

It’s the closest they could possibly be and still Mike doubts they’ll be warmed by it.

It only half matters, though. Because at least Will’s with him. At least they have this. Will starts tracing patterns onto Mike’s ribs. Mike starts playing with Will’s hair. They’re cold and hungry and somehow, briefly, content.

“Actually, I think the first thing I’ll do is brush my teeth,” Mike says after a while. “Second is going to be kissing you better.”

Will chuckles, the sound reverberating in Mike’s rib cage where his head is pressed against it.

They only have to wait for help to arrive.

View Collection on Ao3 > Next Prompt

[veritable-trash]

The He-Man Chronicles

hahahahahahahah i'm staring at this gif very very normally thank you

Pairing: Eddie Munson x F!Reader

Words: 7.9K(hah i love him your honor)

Prompt this be a request babayyyyy:

[ GRADUAL ]  for receiver to slowly undress sender,  caressing and kissing every part of them they expose. 

[ APPROACH ]  our muses haven’t been intimate yet and receiver finally broaches the subject to sender.

Warning: 18+ it's smut, PiV, fingering, oral F and M receiving, Eddie talks a lot(yes that is a warning), drug use so like can be seen as under the influence non-con if you squint, let me know if i missed anything i am still new at this whole thing heh :)))

A/N: OK YALL THIS IS DIRECTLY FROM MY REQUESTS, a most beautiful anonymous individual dropped this off as a gift to me and my brain went WILD. I am very sorry to anon if this isn't the character you had in mind since it is my first time writing for him, but I just got like mad inspired so if you want me to write this prompt with a different character or if you didn't like my interpretation you go ahead and tell me and i will very much get on fixing that just please allow me this one sin 😌 it's been a minute since i've been this obsessed with an individual and eddie has just got me wrapped around his little fingers now doesn't he!!! me and eddie have kinda similar hair and both love weed and i think that's hot and i really wanted to get this done before the new episodes drop because i am TERRIFIED of what is to become of my baby. ya literally freaking out, obsessed, want to die, love him so so so so so so so much who am i. again giving this anon the biggest hugs and most aggressive forehead kisses literally ever because they gave me the inspiration to do this and be slutty and emotional on the MAIN! i LOVE them for allowing me this! so please enjoy send me all your eddie disgusting beautiful delicious thoughts and good luck to all my eddie girlies, tonight we ride 🤠

ok apologies i know this is already way too fucking long kill me with a butter knife but i have to point to @chaseadrian and @inklore who are doing GODS WORK with their eddie writing please i beg go read, it is so good ok sorry i'll shut up please enjoy!

also minimally edited i had to stop looking at it so forgive me please 🫠

~~~~~~~~~~~~

It always started like this.

Eddie brought the weed, you rolled the joints, and then cartoons for hours.

You and him were so simple, like a river flowing to sea, a course already predetermined and known that it was hard picturing life without him sometimes. 

You’d been rolling together side by side since 6th grade english where the two of you made your teacher cry and then spent all of detention, heads together, trying to come up with the greatest revenge plot of all time. She’d been a menace and you and Eddie had had enough of it. But the revenge never came to be and that didn’t really end up mattering. You’d found your best friend.

He was the confidant you’d always wanted. The person who never shied away from any conversation. Eddie wanted to talk and he wanted to listen and he just wanted to know every fucking thing about you. His eyes read you inside and out like a creased and worn out paperback, soft from how often those eyes have traversed those pages. You were soft on him.

Long story short, that was how vengeful 6th graders turned blood bonded confidants turned into the drug dealing freaks of Hawkins High. 

Somewhere along the way you both realized weed made shit a hell of a lot more fun, and a little extra pocket money never hurt. Like everything else between you two it had become your thing. You and Eddie had spent hours one fateful summer perfecting your joint rolling skills, or as Eddie would call it “doobie time” and the rest was history.

You’d never minded being labeled the freaks, never minded that the jocks were incessant about their hatred of you two, Hellfire, honestly anyone that wasn’t like them. Because Eddie was always right at your side ready to knock em down a few pegs and then erase any hurt with his goofy smile that made everything feel just a bit lighter.

Even though you didn’t get DnD and refused to play, he’d always made sure you felt some level of included. He’d nicknamed you Fae because you reminded him of some faerie princess he’d written into a campaign they’d been doing at the time and even gave you an honorary Hellfire t-shirt. The shirt had smelled like him and it had made you swoon but you refused to read into it any of the sweet gestures and delicious smelling shirts. That was just how Eddie was.

Eddie was your rock and you were his safe place to land and in so many ways it was hard for either of you to spend too much time apart. And so you had made a promise early in your friendship that Friday nights were claimed for the two of you. A ritual of sorts to let go of the bullshit of the week and just be. You and Eddie and joints and He-Man. 

“Honestly speaking, He-Man is my ideal man. I mean the bob, the bangs, the voice? It’s just a package deal that cannot be ignored.”

Eddie snorted beside you, his lips turning up as his heavy lidded eyes scan your face. He’d been doing that a lot lately. Just looking at you. 

His lips are wrapped around joint number 3? 4? And it’s hard not to zero in on his mouth, the softness and fullness of his lips sinking your mind somewhere warm and molten. You aren’t even sure what time it is anymore and your eyes are half open at best, but somehow the fog clouding the space behind your eyes clears just enough for Eddie to be the only thing visible. Your only real focus. 

“Honestly speaking Fae, no one asked if you thought He-Man was the ideal man, but the fact that you just willingly gave up that information is something more pertinent for us to discuss. Please tell me, what is it about the most powerful man in the universe that truly speaks to you?”

“Oh shut up. You’re all jokes and honestly most of them are awful, sorry to break the news.”

You shove at his shoulder and ever the drama queen, he falls back, sprawling out on the carpet, hands clutching at his heart. His curls fan out around him, twisting and curving, framing his head like a halo, and there’s that edge to his eyes, a sort of golden fire that has been coming to the surface more and more when you’re together. It’s a sharpness of something secret that you can’t seem to place.  

“Ah! You wound me! Sticks and stones and words all hurt me the same you know.”

“Eddie I swear to god you are a fucking nutcase sometimes.”

Your mind is swimming in the liquid brown of his eyes as he pears up at you from the floor. His laugh caresses your ears as smoke curls from his lips and he blinds you. He looks so soft, every part of him, his eyes, his hair, his t-shirt, seem gilded in a warm honey glow you’re fairly certain is due to the drugs curling around your synapses. But even if it is the weed, you’re still fairly certain curling up into his side would feel like drowning in warm, cottony sheets fresh out the dryer. It has your head spinning and hazy with feelings you haven’t yet defined in your head. Probably still too afraid to figure it out, but holy shit is he beautiful.

“Wait what did you say?” 

Oh fuck. Did you seriously just fucking say that out loud? 

Shit. This is exactly why you stick to two joints, max. As soon as you went past that your tongue gets heavy with all the words you’re always too anxious to say and proceeds to catapult every whim that flits across your brain out into the world for anyone and everyone to hear. 

And today, delightfully, it got to be Eddie.

“I was just- I just- Well what do you think I said?”

“Well this is a tough one, you know with you sitting so far away from me and all, but I believe I heard you say something about me being beautiful? Possibly? Maybe?”

He props himself up on his elbows and scoots closer to you eyes brimming with question and hope? It’s hard to tell with the smoke filling the air, your lungs, your brain, but you almost feel like of everything, hope is the clearest. His tongue peaks out to wet his bottom lip, his teeth just catching onto the pillowy flesh there, and you have to focus on intaking breath or you’re fairly certain you’d forget to breath all together with how he’s looking at you.

“Uh well yes I-uh ya I mean come on of course you’re beautiful I mean you have to know that! The cheerleaders that buy weed from us pretend that you’re a gross freak but I heard Kristina in calc talking about how she thinks you’ve got a lot going on down stairs and how she’d really really like to find out. You know, everyone loves a bad boy.”

“Do you?”

“Wait wha- what?”

“Do you like a bad boy?”

That gives you pause. He’s completely ignored the fact that Kristina Taylor wants to see his dick and that just didn’t really track in your brain. She was probably the hottest girl at Hawkins and all the guys in Hellfire wax very poetically, at length, about how nice her tits are on at least a daily basis. Except Eddie, but you’d chalked that up to his assumed “manners”, and that he was just being respectful and hiding his lust. 

And to make matters even more confusing his eyes are shifting, darkening to more of a chestnut brown with shades of need that you have a sneaking suspicion have zero to do with Kristina. Because he’s looking directly at you again, like he has been doing quite a lot these past few weeks, and it’s making you sweat. 

You can feel your pulse in your fingertips as they press harder into the ground as if you’re trying to steady yourself from this giant shift happening between you and Eddie in his bedroom.

With He-Man on in the background. 

It was all very discombobulating. 

“I mean well ya I guess so, but don’t flatter yourself E. I’ve seen you shoot milk out your nose honestly too many times to count and that concerns me. Who knows, it could be a health condition! Maybe you have the weirdest milk related illness of all time, really gonna beat all those losers who’re lactose intolerant. They’ve got nothing on you.”

Eddie stays quiet even as his lips twitch up again into a soft grin. If there’s one thing Eddie is a pro at it’s seeing straight through your bullshit diversions.

But he doesn’t call you out on it this time. He just pushes himself the rest of the way up scooting himself closer to where you’re sprawled out against the side of his bed. There’s a precision to his movements tinged with caution as if he’s afraid to spook you.

It’s then you realize how your shoulders have hitched up and your fingers are curled into the carpet. Knuckles white and bones groaning, you must look like a corned animal. 

He finally bridges the gap between you, his hand coming up, the joint still burning between his fingertips, smoke curling and twining around itself up towards the ceiling. Your fingers brush at the exchange and you see his chest twitch with a stuttered breath at the same time you hear your own catch. It feels fizzy and light as it skitters up your arm over your shoulder and down your spine. You have to restrain the shiver. 

Eddie looks no less affected. 

Your lips wrap around the filter of the joint and you inhale deep, needing something to distract from the headiness filling the air threatening to pull you under. It fails almost instantly. 

The smoke floating from between your lips seems to only pull Eddie in closer, his eyes dropping down to watch the smoke curl from between your lips up into your nose. His lips part and you can see how his chest expands on the inhale, as if he’s trying to suck the smoke swirling out of your lungs straight into his. 

You quickly inhale another puff and then pass it back to him, avoiding his touch at all costs and averting your eyes from his gaze that feels like its stripping you bare. Eddie’s rings glint in the low light of his bedroom as he taps the ash off the joint and stubs it out into the ashtray. His head turns back to look at you and he slowly slides himself to sit in front of your crossed legs, his frame now blocking out He-Man, the only distraction you had left. 

“Hey. Hey Fae what’s going on up there? I know this weeds strong but you’re leaving me. Where ya going?”

There’s a sort of stillness wrapping itself around your ankles and crawling up your calves. You can see it in his eyes, he wants you to ask, ask what this tension, this thickness filling the air is all about. And he wants to tell you, desperately, wants to break the dam and let everything spill out all over the floor so it’s finally not suffocating you both.  

If only you'd ask.

So you decide you will.

“E what’s going on here? I can’t with you looking at me like that. And don’t even ask me what that means because if I knew then I would tell you but I have no fucking clue and everything feels so confusing and fuck you weren’t kidding this weed is really, really strong.”

The words are tumbling, skittering, bursting from between your lips and it takes everything you have to suck in a breath and stop the word vomit from steering into territory that was much too scary to verbalize. Though it feels like it’s already sprinting in that direction, like a runaway train that has no chance of stopping, the only thing left to do is get ready for the carnage.   

You peak up at him from beneath your lashes and his eyes are open with an aching vulnerability as if he’s letting you look into his soul. As if he really, really wants you too dive into his eyes and see it all. 

His hand wraps around your ankle and the sear of his warm skin interwoven with the biting chill of his silver rings shoots up your leg and settles in your core, hot and torrid. You can barely breath, trying fruitlessly to hide your gasps for breath from Eddie’s ever watchful eyes.

The two of you haven’t been able to break eye contact and the temperature of the room starts to climb quickly like a kettle about to boil over. He drags your foot into his lap, his other hand curling around the juncture of your knee, squeezing just so and your sharp intake of breath sounds like a bomb in the hush of the room. His eyes flicker down to your mouth and they darken to a shade that has your stomach twisting itself into knots. 

God this is too much, he still hasn’t spoken and you think you might start melting into the carpet if he doesn’t do something fast. What that something is you’re not totally sure but you’d love to find out, and soon. 

“Fae, I ca- I’m about to say something really stupid but here goes nothing. I can’t keep pretending that I don’t want you. I just- Fuck do I want you and you’re my best friend but also the person I think about when my hand is wrapped around my dick, which sorry that's way too much information but honestly it’s just really hard to think around you sometimes when I want you in every way humanly possible and it feels like you’re always just out of reach.”

“But you also have to know, have to believe me when I say if you don’t feel the same, I will never bring this up again. Ever again. But I just couldn’t hold it in anymore. Not when you’re looking at me like that, and I can see how you’re out of breath just like me and it feels like you might be losing it just as bad.” 

Your vision seems to glaze over and then flicker back as he talks, the gravel and need in his tone setting off all of your synapses and sends you flying into a deep-rooted, aching lust. The feelings and want that have been simmering under layers and layers of fear and dismissal, now breaking through the cracks and fissures Eddie’s proclamations have unleashed upon all your safeguards. You feel like a volcano about to explode, like you’re this close from ripping yourself apart with everything building and building and building within you.  

He falls into you like his words are propelling him forward, the momentum shoving you both into a new chapter. His chest pushes up against the front of your leg, his chin hovering just above your knee, and you can feel his chest rising and falling through his soft cotton t-shirt, the heat of him seeping into your bare skin. His eyes are flitting across your features, eyes, nose, lips, chin, cheeks, and your face heats with his focus and attention. 

He’s so close you can almost count his eyelashes, see the the lines in his lips where they’ve gotten slightly chapped. One of his crossed legs stretches open to rest against yours, and now you’re caged in on both sides, his hand still gripping your knee, squeezing every so often so you don’t forget that he’s there.  

You feel like you might just lunge at him at any moment, like a rubber band stretched till it’s breaking point. One more word from him and you might just throw yourself off the cliff edge, you’re not totally sure if you’d even want to stop yourself. 

“I- well I guess I might be feeling the same way, and honestly speaking, I’ve been thinking about you too. Or whatever.”

The spell finally breaks and your eyes drop instantly to the hand wrapped around your knee, his eyes finally getting the better of you. You’d just said so much, it all feels too much, and yet you don’t want to stop, because for some reason it seems like everything might turn out the way your heart really, truly wants it to. 

But you’re absolutely fucking terrified nonetheless. 

Eddie stays silent, but he moves almost instantly, the hand around your ankle gliding up your calf before sliding around your neck, into your hair, and his thumb catches under your chin, lifting till you’re forced to look at him. 

It’s like sparklers are going off in your belly, chest, head, cunt. He’s looking at you as if he wants to inhale you like the smoke that’s been rolling around between you two all night. You feel consumed by him and this moment and the smirk crossed with a timid smile laced across his lips makes your heart squeeze with a want that’s starting to twist into something almost feral.  

“You know what I think is really crazy? The fact that you know I like you, and I know you like me, and even though all I can think about sometimes is kissing you, I still haven’t kissed you yet. That just seems like a real shame if you ask me.”

His voice has dropped into a gravelly rumble, though still lilting in the way that Eddie is always joking, always light. Always your Eddie. His eyes are one and the same, a darkening brown, yet twinkling with an excitement and want that sends goosebumps skittering across your flesh. 

He’s leaning in closer now, and his hand shifts, thumb stroking at your cheek as his fingers press into the skin behind your ear and further into your hair. You instinctively lean into his hand, skull pushing back against his fingers, wanting him to card them deeper into your hair and pull.

“E, please kiss me.”

“Dang, if you just gave me a second I was abou-“

Your lips touch down on his, cupping the plush of his lower lip, muffling the words leaving his tongue. You both freeze for a breath, until Eddie groans from somewhere deep in his chest and everything gets set ablaze.

His fingers card into your hair, pressing into your scalp, as his hand wraps around your knee and tugs your leg out to wrap around his hip. His body crowds into you, and your other leg naturally unfolds, winding around him till you have to shift up and into his lap.  

It all happens in what feels like a heart beat and now you’re sitting nose to nose with the boy of possibly your dreams, and he’s looking at you with such softness and such reverence that it leaves you spinning. 

Emotions are painted across his features and especially his eyes that are peering into yours, trying to read every one of your thoughts. And you want him to. You want him to see the yearning, the lust, the need. You would be willing to strip yourself bare for him and he for you. 

His hands squeeze at your waist, pinky fingers hooking under the seam of your shirt to press into your bare skin, and the touch swirls around your body, spreading through you until your hips can’t help but roll into his and—

Your eyes lock and you can feel him. Pressing up against the zipper of his jeans, into the cradle of your thighs, and even through the two layers of denim, you can fell him. It sends your thoughts tumbling down, down, down to the molten center of you that’s been burning and churning since you two light up that first joint. 

Eddie sucks in a breath, lips pressed shut, and a light whine cracks in the back of his throat as if it’s been torn out of him. His nose bumps into yours, his eyelashes fluttering against your cheek as his lips move to your jaw, down to your neck. 

A keen rises to the tip of your tongue as he licks at your pulse, thick and hot, teeth nipping softly in its wake. His hands are slowly starting to guide your hips, rocking you forward and back over the zipper of his jeans. Every pass over your clit leaves you whimpering out into the humid air and your fingers tangle in his hair, trying fruitlessly to ground yourself in the silky strands. 

His breath puffs out against your throat as he bumps his forehead into your jaw affectionately, and you can feel the press of his teeth as he smiles into your throat. 

“Fae, baby, I wa-want to see all of you, is that ok? Let me undress you, I want to make you feel so good. Please.”

He’s begging you, tone needy and gruff, as he nuzzles into your neck like some love sick puppy and you can’t feel, think, smell, taste, hear anything but him.  

“God, yes, please, please yes.”

Your lips latch onto each others again, a burning intensity singeing the edges of every torrid press of lips. The damn has finally broken and you’re both frantic to feel. An all consuming ache to be skin to skin, devouring you both.  

His hands slide around your thighs, settling down to cup your ass as he shifts up onto his knees, lifting you those final few inches to sit you up on his bed. The shift in angle leaves him gazing up at you if only for a breath, his eyes welling with reverence, as if praying before an altar. You can feel how hot you are between your legs and you wonder if he can feel it too. Feel how you’re burning up for him from the inside out. 

His lips draw back a breath, dancing over yours, just brushing past, only to pull away every time you desperately try to fall into him. A dizziness is filling your head, leaving you dazed, eyes glazing over with how he’s leaving you on a razors edge. Touching you, but not quite, every pass just shy of the touch you’re truly aching for. 

“Baby lift your arms for me ok? Let me see you.”

He ducks his head down as his fingers catch on the hem of your shirt, slowly dragging the fabric up the skin of your sides, yours ribs, fingers pressing in every so often, as though memorizing the flesh. His mouth follows shortly behind, imprinting the shape of his kisses onto the skin next to your belly button, over your ribs, onto your sternum, between your collarbones, your neck, and finally returning to your lips, your shirt disappearing somewhere far behind him though you seriously couldn’t care less. 

You stay there, tongues tangling and swirling around each other, a small moment of slowness breaking through the chaos. Your nails catch against the back of his shirt and he helps you pull it off of him, every movement syrupy and soft. It’s like you’re drowning in this little blink of time. 

His bare skin is a furnace under your touch, seeping warmth into your chest and heart, heating you slowly until all of a sudden you’re burning up for more. You whine onto his tongue as your fingers twist a little tighter into his hair, showing him you need more because you’ve definitely lost the ability to speak, words now a foreign concept.  

“Fuck, you need more ya? Is that what you want Fae? You want more?”

All you can manage is a few mhms as his lips suck hard at your throat, stinging, surely leaving a mark. But you want him to mark you, dripping at the thought of waking up tomorrow to small purple kisses littering your skin.

You grind your hips against his chest, seeking some sort of friction before you self combust. You’re gasping against his neck as he continues his assault on yours. The heat licking up your spine is driving you almost to madness, the pulse between your thighs incessant and all consuming an almost roar in your ears. You think he might be saying something, whispering it against your skin but your brain is too focused on everything else you can’t be sure. It’s like you’ve decided to ignore everything other than the need to feel him stretching you open, pressing you down onto his bed and letting you feel every inch of him. 

Eddie’s whines coats your lips and you finally notice that he’s moving too, hips grinding into the side of his bed trying desperately to find some kind of relief. Your nails claw at his back as you try and get him even closer, the steady rock of his body into yours lighting you up like a pyre.  

Your lips can barely touch, pants and gasps and moans breaking the contact with every breath, the slow roll of both of your hips pushing you both higher and higher towards something blisteringly white-hot. 

His fingers latch onto the button of your jean shorts, popping it open and pulling down the zipper, hands spreading out to wrap around your hips pawing at the fabric, trying desperately to rid you of the offending material. His lips settle against the valley between your tits and press, pushing you back till you’re sprawled out on the bed under him. You lift your hips and you both are finally able to wrestle the denim down your legs and off into the ether that is the rest of Eddie’s bedroom. 

You could be in Mordor right now and you would have no fucking clue.  

“You are so fucking beautiful, you know that? Like holy shit, are you beautiful.”

Eddie’s lips press into the swell of each of your tits, licking at the edge of your bra playfully.

“May I?” 

“You may.”

It shatters you in the best way that even though you both are about to fuck like there is no tomorrow, are finally going to act on feelings that have been growing for years, you’re still just two idiots. The grins and giggles you share so tender and yet so depraved. 

Your bra follows the exact same path as your shirt and pants, the ether consuming it or maybe it’s burning in Mount Doom. 

Eddie’s hands cup your breasts, thumbs just barely brushing over your nipples, and your stomach jolts. He settles your quivering muscles with a kiss just below your ribs and then he sucks your breasts into his mouth.

The heat of his wet tongue barrels through you, hips canting up against him, a groan crackling and breaking out of your chest. The blunt edges of his teeth dig into your flesh and you are definitely about to loose your mind. No doubt about it because he is driving you up the wall with every stroke of his tongue. 

“Eddie, fuck how does this feel so good? How are you so good at this? You have so much explaining to- fu-uck.”

Another drag of his teeth over your other nipple has you shutting up instantly. You don’t care how many people he’s fucked, who they are, where they are, fuck em because Eddie’s currently shredding you apart and it’s tortured bliss. 

His laugh is muffled as he sucks another mark onto your flesh, and the vibration of it ripples over your skin leaving goosebumps in its wake. He continues his assault, switching between tongue, lips and teeth, never letting you settle on one sensation for too long. Your cunt clenches around nothing, heightening your need to have him filling you, zeroing your brain in on the need to feel his cock in your hands, in your mouth, in your cunt. 

Your hands drop from the death grip you’ve had on his hair, and Eddie has the audacity to whine, sinking his teeth in just a tad bit harder in protest, but you can’t not feel him. You think you might die if you don’t wrap your hands around his cock this very instant.  

Eddie’s grunt of surprise is quickly followed by a long deep groan as your hands finally snake their way down to palm at his length through his jeans. His hips stutter as he rocks into your palm, finally letting you feel what will soon be splitting you in half. The flip in control is thrilling, and you squeeze him just a bit harder, drinking up the noises pouring from his lips. 

Your teeth drag down his throat in time with you undoing his jeans, and Eddie is frantic as he stands on shaky legs to kick them off, sending them once again into the volcano. 

He’s mesmerizing, hair falling around his face as he looks down at you, eyes a dark mahogany with how worked up he is for you, a shy smile gracing his beautiful features, but it’s hard to focus on anything other than the tent in his boxers and the spot of wetness darkening the navy cotton. He almost looks bashful but then he sees your tongue wet your bottom lip and how your hooded eyes are drinking in the sight of him and the nervousness dissipates. 

“Fae, you know you could take a picture, I heard it lasts longer.”

Your eyes snap up to his and he’s clearly joking but there’s a slight crease between his brow and you can tell he’s about two seconds away from snapping, nearly panting above you. 

“Eddie, if you wanted me to suck your dick all you had to do was ask.”

He groans, fingers and rings tangling into your hair as he angles your head up to look at him. His thumb presses into your bottom lip, forcing them to part and your tongue brushes against his skin. He stares straight into your eyes as your hands wrap around the waistband of his boxers and pull down, your eyes dropping to watch as he finally gets laid bare before you. 

You whine, it just can’t be helped because his cock is fucking fantastic. Never did you think you’d ever describe a mans cock as fantastic but here you were doing exactly that. He’s thick but not overwhelmingly so, just a little past the point of comfort, enough that you know you’ll feel him tomorrow and ache for him all over again. 

A bead of precum leaks from the tip and without a thought you lean down and lick it into your mouth. Eddie’s whole body twitches, rings biting into your scalp as he tries to keep his eyes open to watch you taste him for the first time.

He tastes fucking divine.

“Fuck, Fae you can’t just say shit like that jesus fucking christ you’re driving me insane.”

Whoops, guess the weed is still in effect leaving you loose lipped, or maybe it was just his cock. Honestly it could be either or. 

You don’t merit his words with a response, instead sliding down to the floor between his legs and licking up the underside of him, hand wrapping around the base. His hand falls to the mattress behind you, his strength giving out at feeling your lips wrapped snug around him and his cock jolts deeper into your throat causing you to gag and sputter. 

He pulls out quickly, apologies rushing out of him but you stop him as quickly as he pulls out, sucking him back between your lips and even deeper this time, letting him feel your throat struggle with the length of him. 

Curses punch out of his lungs as you work him over, drool pooling on your tongue as you take him into your mouth over and over and over again. You don’t know how long you’re down there for but it’s nowhere near long enough before he’s hooking his hands under your arms and throwing you back onto the bed. 

“Jesus, if you thought I had some fucking explaining to do I am going to need some answer real quick about where the fuck you learned how to do that. But god just look at you, so fucking pretty and all for me.”

The combination of his words and watching him drop to his knees between your spread thighs leaves you somehow nervous, your hands coming up to cover your eyes from his blistering stare. His eyes feel like they’re burning you, torching your skin with unbridled need.

You peak out at him from between your fingers and find him smiling at you, head leaning against the inside of your knee, his hair tickling your skin. It’s almost too intimate, the change between depravity and sweetness jarring and heart warming. You’re shy yet sure, even in these moments of such deep vulnerability where it feels like your heart is just out in the open for him to take or destroy, because you know he’s in the same boat, on the same page, heart live and beating on the table right next to yours. 

You watch each other for a second, some level of safety found in only seeing one another through the slits between your shaky fingers. Still enough hidden away to make it feel safe. His eyes dance with that same vibrancy that Eddie always has simmering just under the surface, but it feels so much better now that it’s pointed at you.

That you are the one making Eddie glow like this. 

A rumbling groan shakes itself out of Eddie as his eyes flutter down and land on your panties and the damp spot growing where they cover your entrance. You can feel how sopping wet you are, have been, and Eddie leans forward eyes zeroing in, his hands slowly tracking up your thighs. His mouth traces its way up your skin, incisors snagging every so often, until his mouth is just inches from your core. He presses his fingers into the meat of your thighs and pushes you open, exposing your clothed cunt to the cold air and his hot mouth.

You can feel it, your wetness catching the puffs of air escaping from between his lips. You can see your thighs twitching with the lightness of the sensation and Eddies eyes darken, flicking up to catch you drinking in his every movement, every change of expression. 

He’s intoxicating to you. 

His tongue flicks out and traces you through the fabric, the touch muted yet somehow all consuming. Your hips jolt, hard, and Eddie barely avoids getting his jaw knocked. He preens a bit at seeing how worked up he’s gotten you, but graciously doesn’t leave you needy for long.

He dips back, his hands dragging your panties down your legs, finally laying you bare, and his breaths fan across your pussy, ghosting over the newly exposed skin. You swear you almost cum right there. 

Your eyes lock again and he finally licks into you. Deep and hot and so wet, it sounds almost too vulgar, an d yet shivers race up and down your spin sending your back arching up to the ceiling. He dives into you and holy fuck is it the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. 

His arms lock across your hips to keep you under him and then he eats your pussy with abandon. He’s humming and groaning into your fluttering cunt and ever vibration from his tongue makes you see stars and feel like fireworks are bursting under your skin. You can feel your orgasm building itself up brick by molten brick in the pit of your stomach and it’s hard to hold still, to keep quiet when you feel as though you might explode into a million tiny little pieces. 

You sound pathetic, moans breathy and more so just pitiful gasps for air. His tongue pushes at your entrance, and you keen as your thighs flex around his ears. There are only stars behind your lids and you grapple at his curls to try and keep yourself grounded in some reality as you careen out into god knows fucking where.

The mix of licking and sucking and flicking and swirling has you dizzy and so undone that you almost don’t notice his finger pressing into you until the stretch and the iciness of his rings sucks the breath out of your lungs. You double over, shuddering and gushing at the push and stretch and million and one sensations hurtling across all of your senses, groaning out Eddie’s name desperately. 

“Oh fuck, yes, does that feel good? Fuck your pussy feels so good, so tight fuck, can I fuck you, please god can I-?”

“Jesus yes god yes, Eddie, please, please, please.”

The two of you are falling apart, tumbling head first into something earth shattering. Your eyes can barely stay open to watch him, eyes rolling back with every deep press of his fingers. 

He pumps his finger in deep, thumb catching to circle at your clit and you roll your hips up into his palm, shivering and stuttering with every movement. He’s towering over you, mouth parted, awe scrawled across his face as his tongue darts out every so often to skate over his lips, as though he can still taste you there as he watches himself finger fuck you. 

You whine far too loud when he pulls his finger out of you, your eyes snapping open, lips ready to beg him to fill you again, but his groan cuts you off and you watch, shell-shocked, as he sucks his fingers into his mouth, licking you off of his skin as his eyes roll back, your name a garbled whisper around his digits. Your hips grind against air, now absolutely unhinged with how much you’re aching for him. 

His fingers leave his mouth with a soft pop, and he stares you down as he drops his hand to push two fingers inside you, curling and pressing up into the soft heart of you. Every press hurtling a whine out of your lungs and you can feel how he’s working your over, building you up to some great peak you can’t see quite yet in the fog of lust. 

He keeps pushing and pushing and pushing till all of sudden the fog clears as though it’s been burned away by some ball of flame and you’re launched off the edge, a moment of hang time and confusion lasting for just a blink before you’re shaking and moaning and cursing up to the heavens. Your orgasm rams through you, blowing everything to dust and ash and Eddie has to practically wrestle you down onto the bed with how hard you buck in his hold. 

Your hips are stuttering on his fingers as he works you through wave after wave. You can’t seem to decide if it’s too much or not enough, hips jumping at every pass over your sensitive clit yet still coming back for just one more lick of pained-laced paradise. Your chest is heaving with exertion and you can feel Eddie’s lips pressing into the soft skin of your stomach, a whisper of your name pulling your eyes back down to his. 

His fingers twist around yours pulling your hand up to his lips for a soft, wet kiss. You drag both of your hands up to your mouth kissing over the spot he just touched and you can taste yourself on your skin. Your thighs are still shaking under his forearms but your heart rate final starts to slow as you gaze into his pretty eyes, your lips lifting into the softest of smiles.  

"You’re going soft on me Fae. Who would have guessed you’d get all love-sick puppy dog eyes on me, very out of character for my High Fae Princess of the Seven Realms.”

“Eddie you little piece of shit, I swear to god!"

You start to sit up, trying to pull your hand away to properly shove at him but Eddie’s quick and your body is still in post-orgasm haze. He snatches up your wrists and pins them above your head, crawling up tills his eyes line up with yours and you can’t ignore the Cheshire Cat grin plastered across his face. He’s acting like he’s somehow trapped you with his “wit” and “brute strength”, but you both know you didn’t really put up that much of a fight.

His eyes soften, milk chocolate swirls hypnotizing you, as he peers down at you like some precious memento. 

“So we’re doing this ya? I-I mean not just like the sex part, though that’s been fucking rad, but you know everything else?”

“E are you asking me to be your girlfriend right now? As we lie here, naked, you decide this is the perfect moment? You’ve really got some sense of timing there, I’ll give you that.”

Eddie scowls at you, his face flushing the most adorable shade of pink and you’re quick to put him out of his misery, stretching up to close those final few inches between your lips. The kiss is soft, adoration passed between your lips as you show him your answer. 

“Of course we’re doing this Eddie, I don’t think I could imagine life without you most days.”

His hand reaches over to his bedside table, lips moving to devour yours as he rummages through the drawer in search of a condom. You watch as he rips open the foil with his teeth and sheaths himself, and it’s almost embarrassing how fucking hot it all is. Your nails claw into his shoulders, even that little bit of space too much for you to bear.

He rocks into the bowl of your hips, the head of his cock passing over your clit leaving you both shivering into each other until he finally catches against your aching entrance and presses just the tip of him in, a whoosh of air leaving both of your lungs as you feel the heat of each other for the first time. 

“Baby I gotta be honest, I’m not gonna last I’m not even inside of you yet and I think I’m losing my fucking mind so I’m going to apologize in advance for busting way way way too quick. Please just, you know, take it as a compliment because you are hot as fuck.”

He’s rambling against your lips as he saws back and forth pressing just a tad deeper with every thrust. If your head wasn’t absolutely empty aside from the need to feel his cock splitting you, you would maybe even blush with how sweet the entirety of this situation is, but right now you need Eddie more than the air in your lungs.

“Jesus Eddie I don’t fucking care, I’m fucking losing my mind, please just fuck m-“

You choke out a garbled moan as he slides all the way into you, hips nestling together, his stomach brushing over yours. His jaw drops open and his lower teeth catch under your jaw as he gasps against your skin, choking out the filthiest whine you’ve ever heard. Your cunt spasms around him and the whine sharpens into a keen. 

He pulls back until just the head of him is still inside of you and his eyes drop to watch as he pushes back in, his arms almost buckling at the sight. Your foreheads press together as you watch him saw in and out, cock glinting in the smoky light of the room with how fucking wet you are. 

It all starts to build so quickly, the heat of his cock triggering something deep in your chest and your core. You can see the freight train in the distance and know there’s no way to stop it, just have to hope you can prepare yourself for impact.

He’s panting into your neck, whispering your name, how good you feel, whispering words your brain barely has the capacity to hear with how good he’s making you feel. His hips are already faltering with every push inside of you, cock already so sensitive from all of the building to this moment. Your body also can’t decide whether you’re too overworked, or if you need more friction to finish you. 

The latter seems to win out.

Even in his supposed stupor, Eddie somehow still puts you first. His hand finds its way back between your legs, and his thumb settles to press firm circles over your clit. Your legs start to shake even as your arms lock up around Eddie’s neck, too many sensations taking over and your body needing to cling to something for dear life. 

His lips find their way under your ear and as he scrapes his teeth over the sensitive skin you cum. 

Your body caves in on itself, muscles locking up around him from the pleasures he’s choking you with. You have no sense of time or sound or sight, no clue what sounds you might be making, what you must look like, everything burning away until all that’s left is wave after wave of shivering pleasure. 

“Holy fuck.”

That you do hear, Eddie’s lips still right below your ear, his teeth sinking in with the force of your orgasm. Your pussy clamps around him and he can barely move, can only feel your heartbeat against his cock. It’s like a sirens call to him and he’s fucking gone. The softness of your body and the tightness of your cunt breaking his last shreds of control. 

He follows right behind you, trembling hips rocking unsteadily into yours till it becomes just a bit too much. Your contractions of your cunt draining him till his visions sparkles with white dots of light. 

The bed bounces as he drops partially on you and partially on the bed, trying to not squish you while still remaining as close as physically possible. His nose skims along your throat and you sigh, deep and loud, making sure he can hear you, can hear how happy you are.

“Mmmm that good, huh?”

“You know, I don’t think it was too bad.”

His hand squeezes at your waist and you’re reminded for probably the thousandth time that night how fucking pretty he is. How you can practically taste the sweetness of his heart in the air. He’s looking at you like you’ve always dreamed someone would, and it’s only made better by the fact you never thought it would be Eddie. 

Never dreamed that you would get to have this. 

He tips his head up and his lips brush against your jaw, his tongue lazily licking at your damp skin. Your whole body hums. He presses another kiss into your lips and it tastes of a thank you. It seems you’re both a little bit in awe of your luck these days. 

You share giddy smiles, eyes still droopy, though this time from the sex and not the weed. The feeling settling inside the four chambers of your heart is something you could really get used to, and you hope beyond hope that it’ll become as familiar as the curl of Eddie’s hair. 

You’re pretty sure it will. 

once again i love him, my new fixation god help me, feedback is always so lovely and so appreciated :)))))

[halfagone]

Challenge! 20 Questions for Writers

Thank you both @oliveofvanders and @tathartiel for tagging me!! I don't know what the 20 questions are, but I'll try to work from Tathy's responses. XD

How many works do you have on Ao3?

Technically my Ao3 page says 88, but I personally count it as 87, since I became a co-author post-publishing to add a work into a series. It's complicated, alright?

2. What's your total Ao3 word count?

Oh gosh, don't hate me for this- Right now my total stands at 1,936,874 words... Yeah. I may be just a smidge unhinged...

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Right now I currently write for the DPxDC crossover, although I'm hoping to branch out into DP-only, DC-only, and other crossover works!! I used to write for another fandom, but I've long since left that one behind.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

No. 1 goes to lex luthor's ascent from supervillainy to fatherhood with a whopping 14,759 kudos. It is currently 92 chapters long, I am working on chapter 93, and it is projected to finish at 150 chapters.

No. 2 goes to Two For One Special at 8,349 kudos!! It's a short one-shot, very light-hearted with Danny and Clark being mistaken as two Waynes.

No. 3 goes to what was lost, found again with 7,090 kudos. This story follows more introspection and character exploration, and we get to see a softer side of what things could be if Jason came home after being resurrected. It's 5 chapters long, already completed if you want to check it out!

No. 4 goes to Eldritch Toddler with 7,031 kudos, so a very close runner-up to No. 3. This is another one-shot for DPxDC crossover week (which will be reoccur this year, although sadly I'm not sure if I'll be able to write for it this time), and it's a little wild and goofy but I overall I tried for fluffy family feels.

We wrap up with No. 5, Off With [the Demon's] Head at 5,492 kudos!! It is currently 15 chapters long, who knows when it'll be done. Danny is Damian's older brother, with mommy and daddy issues a-plenty, and he's sorta kinda Ellie's father? It's complicated and I like to hurt the blorbos.

5. Do you respond to comments?

I definitely try to!! I am very behind on them unfortunately, but I try to respond when I have the spoons and time to. It'll be slow going to catch up to them all, but I try to give them the credit they deserve. <3

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Oh this one's hard... I tend to write a lot of angst, after all. Hmmm... I think I'll give this one to On a scale from 1-10, how would you rate your pain? just because that fic is so depressing and then I end it with a cliffhanger, so you don't get very much relief from the angst.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Ah... I think this one does go to what was lost, found again just because of the catharsis for the journey. There's plenty of angst and hard feelings in that fic, but I really loved being able to write that epilogue from Damian's POV and seeing so many people love it too.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I've gotten some pretty rude comments, but I think I've only gotten outright hate one time. That comment has since been reported and deleted. There are many comments that seem to take a bad faith reading on the entire chapter, and then kinda go on a tangent about it? It's very strange to see but thankfully I have plenty of other wonderful readers who make up for it.

9. Do you write smut fic? If so, what kind?

Technically no. I've written some more mature fics, but I doubt I'll ever go for full-blown smut. And I'd like to keep it that way, thanks...

10. Do you write crossovers? If so, what's the craziest one you've written?

Oh boy do I write crossovers. Majority of my fics are crossovers now actually. lol lex luthor's ascent from supervillainy to fatherhood does take this cake once again, because it started off as a few responses to a Tumblr prompt, and then it became interconnected one-shots and back then I had planned out at least 20 chapters, and here we are now.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don't believe so, and I really, really hope not.

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I have co-written a fic!! It's called Born to Make History and I write it with my lovely friend @nightshiftshenanigans. I do have some more plans for co-written fic and hopefully one day soon I'll get to unveil them. ;3

13. What's your all-time favorite ship?

Oh... that's hard... I don't think I have one all-time favorite? I guess Tim Drake/Danny Fenton would be the closest, since it's the ship I've written the most for. Much like Tathy, I really adore Danny Fenton/Valerie Gray, they are my canon babies. <333

14. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Probably weekend wonders. I have plenty of ideas for the fic, the problem is I have so many other WIPs that came as a higher priority that I don't know when this one will get to update. It's only meant to have 15 chapters, but other things get in the way.

15. What are your writing strengths?

Hmmm, now that's a hard one. I do enjoy writing many things, especially worldbuilding, but I think introspection and character study would probably be the top ones up there. It's always been very important to me to show a character's reasoning and motivations. Even if you don't relate to it, even if their reasoning is inherently baseless, it is always good to see that people do things for a reason even if it's a stupid one.

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

I am so bad at dialogue it physically pains me. TAT Occasionally I'll get scenes and bits of dialogue I am absolutely in love with but otherwise it's just- It's not my strong suit for sure. lol In other news, I get pretty good at monologues, though!! XD

17. First Fandom you wrote for?

Tower of God, Korean Manhwa from Webtoon. It's so freaking long and so freaking good, but I have sadly since left it (and the fandom at large) behind. :'(

18. Favorite Fic you've written?

I bounce between favorites, but my current one would probably be this is me trying. It is a birthday fic for a wonderful friend of mine, @disillusioneddanny but the idea itself has been something I've wanted to explore for a long time, and I am so proud that I could give them a gift they could enjoy.

Apologies if you get tagged twice here: @die-erlkonigin6083, @chromatographic, and @theredshirtsarecoming!! (You ain't getting out of this that easily, zia!! MUAHAHAH) No pressure if you're not up for it, but in case you were interested~ Have at it!!

[damnslippyplanet]

@leupagus requested, and her wish is my command. At least on a Monday morning when I'd rather be thinking about fic than my weekend email backlog. So:

List five of your least-popular fics, as well as when/why you wrote them.

the green place, Word of Honor modern AU, YeXie, 2021

This was a little string of YeXie Week ficlets based on word prompts. Friend Ritualist* and I had been batting around some ideas for a Plant Witch Xie'er fic in the DMs and I thought I'd use YeXie week to play around with the character voices/world a little and see how I liked writing those two. I had a lovely time writing it, but semi-connected short ficlets where the rimming is (just barely) off-screen are a hard sell. Also I left it marked incomplete for a long time thinking I might go back and finish out the week's prompts, so I'm sure it got passed over by the very wise people who don't read WIPs. No regrets, I like knowing Plant Witch Xier'er is out there even if he'll probably never really get written.

*babe, I'm blanking out and can only think of your pro author tumblr name and not your fandom one, if you're seeing this and wanna be linked, drop your fandom url in the comments and I'll link you up

The Desert Dreams of a River, Darkangel Trilogy, Aeriel/Irrylath, Erin/OFC, 2019.

Yuletide fic! With the hit count you expect for a Yuletide genfic based on one of your formative pieces of circa-1982 fiction about a girl trying to reform a vampire while they live on the terraformed moon. Written in a frantic haze just short of deadline, if I recall, as I'd started a different angle on it that didn't quite work. I'm not saying this story was just an excuse to get Erin a wife, but it was sort of that, since the prompt didn't really allow for Erin to wife Aeriel. (But she SHOULD HAVE. Let Aeriel Have A Husband And A Wife.) I loved these books so much. Unfortunately something must be really fucked with the licensing because only the third of the trilogy was available as an ebook at the time and that doesn't seem to have changed? Pick up a hard copy of the first book if you ever see one, though.

every word is nonsense, Only Friends, Ray&Sand, 2023

Another little tidbit of a fic as an exercise in character voice again and also how much I liked how much the show likes their smoking scenes. Look. I'm a person of a certain age who smoked like a chimney as a teenager and into my early twenties, and I can't help the programming that got into my bones about the inherent eroticism of sharing a cigarette. (lolsob, high five to my fellow Thai BL nerds, how are we all doing this week with the one-two- punch of the DFF shotgunning scene and the new 4 minutes teaser? it's fine, i'm fine.) I wrote this thinking that next I would write some RaySand smut and then didn't because the whirl of Thai BL fandom pulled me on to something else, but at some point I want to rewatch this show and may still write it then because it fed my FirstKhao shipper heart so well.

dizzy in your wake, Nirvana in Fire, Changsu/Jingyan, 2020?

I'm not the one who said "what if Mei Changsu were a were-octopus," that was a series of amazing twitter threads by @astronicht. But people just KEPT sending it to me because I am known to think octopus content is very cool and also to be a Mei Changsu Girlie, and eventually a couple of friends shook me until 600 words of ridiculousness came out. What surprises me is not that this one has few kudos, but that it has >10 kudos at all. I would say this is the most niche and silly thing I've written except I've also written MDZS/Jupiter Ascending fusion fic, so let's not pretend I have any dignity left. Written in 2020 but it didn't get posted until later because I don't usually post things this short. At some point I was in one of those "it's an ARCHIVE, we should put ALL THE THINGS THERE" moods and slapped a few NiF ficlets written for the group chat up there.

A Second Dose, Hannibal, Bev/Freddie, 2016

This was the thing where you write an odd little rarepair and it's so much fun you come back and do a sequel you hadn't meant to write. I'd written Bev/Freddie before and then when a Hannibal rarepair fest came around I was like, hey, what if I did that again. Possibly I just wanted to revisit the cat named after Rosalind Franklin that I'd made up for Bev.

[hypnotisedfireflies]

Would I be an absolute LOC slut if ask for asked for a little prompt about Tess having to give birth to Ellie on her own and how she had to deal with it all, thinking that Joel abandoned her and their baby?

I just keep thinking about that period, especially after the short story in CN&OS with the Bandit Era of Joel and Tess and them working out of the brothel. Tess, knowing the Madam, made me wonder if she might have helped Tess during that time-period.

Hello, lovely! Legend of Charro questions are always welcome, and thank you for yours!

I’m going to answer this as more of a ramble.  My brain is kind of out of Charro-mode in terms of being able to turn out decent prose (we can thank IO and it’s sticky plot for that) so I hope you don’t mind if I do it this way!  It might be something I can write properly if I go back to these guys in the future. 

The below story ramble refers to events from my western AU The Legend of Charro and the short story, Disreputable Means.

Tess was with Adelaide (the future madam) when she gave birth.  The bordello wasn’t under Adelaide’s rule then and she and the other girls were in a bad situation with some pretty unpleasant guys running things.  Adelaide met a heavily-pregnant Tess by chance outside the bordello, when Adelaide was being stalked by a patron who’d been kicked out for being drunk, disorderly and rough the previous night.  Tess was dangerously low on cash (the money wire hadn’t yet come through) and sleeping rough.  She intervened when things got dicey for Adelaide and they took care of the guy together.  It was very messy and very dirty.  He took a lot of killing.

They were both pretty terrified and in a lawless part of town.  Adelaide, seeing Tess’s condition, took her back with her to the bordello.  She and the other girls essentially hid Tess in the kitchen.  In exchange for laundering and helping Cook, she had somewhere safe to stay, as long as she stayed out of sight. 

Adelaide and Tess became fast friends while she was there.  To keep her safe, Tess told Adelaide her name was Amy and she made up a story about where she was from and how she came to be by herself.  The others probably bought it but Adelaide didn’t. She was used to keeping her own secrets and so never pried into Tess’s.

Tess gave birth in the bordello.  Fortunately for them all, the labour came in the early morning when the patrons were gone and the proprietors and pimps drunk and dead to the world.  But with Ellie in the house, the secret would get out sooner or later.  They took a chance and concealed mother and child in the woodshed for a few days, and then Tess had to leave.  The consequences would’ve been dire for everyone if they were found out. 

(And where was Charro during all of this?  Tess would never bring him into towns with her.  He was too exceptional-looking and he wouldn’t suffer town stables.  He would just be waiting for her in the wild.   All Tess would have to do was walk out a ways and he’d find her again).

Tess went to the post office on the off-chance there might be word from Joel, and found the money wire and … well, we know what she thought of that.

The two women wrote to one another sometimes over the years.  It was hard to keep track of Tess, but Adelaide knew where she could send letters and Tess would pick them up.  It wasn’t long after Tess had gone that men bearing wanted posters with Tess’s likeness on them came to town.  Adelaide now knew who she really was.

Tess had a pretty bad time of it during those early years.  Ellie wasn’t a happy baby and Tess almost gave her up to be sent back to Black Creek to be raised by Joel’s family (which she ultimately could not do as in the story).  Once the money ran out, Tess’s options were limited.  She couldn’t stay anywhere long or she risked being found out, she couldn’t bring Ellie with her because it made her disreputable, so her options for making money legitimately were severely reduced because of these factors.  She would stash Ellie with unknowing families, pay them to keep her while she “ran errands” – which essentially meant she was entering banditry to make money.   Eventually, she found Henry and Sam and they were far enough away for Ellie to stay with them, permanently hidden. 

Despite everything she and Ellie had a very, very close bond.  Tess put all the love she still had for Joel directly into Ellie.  The life of their daughter helped her to find a way to forgive Joel for what the thought he’d done (thanks, Isobel) and when she was into banditry, that was where she expelled her anger.  Ellie never saw Tess angry, and she never had a bad word to say about her daddy. Tess was determined that she get Ellie “right” and that “bringin’ her up proper” was all that could redeem her.  The only time Charro carried two people was when Ellie was small and he’d bear her and Tess together. 

Adelaide and Tess met once again when Tess was passing through town.  She did not have Ellie with her and was very vague with Adelaide about what had happened to the infant.  Adelaide intimated that she knew who Tess was and warned her to stay away.  Tess noticed that Adelaide had some pretty bad bruises, was too thin, looked like she hadn’t slept.  She told her another vague story, something about knowing what to do with men like that, and if she ever wanted to change things, she had only to let her know.

Eventually, things got very bad at the bordello and Adelaide reached out to Tess for help.  And did she ever repay the kindness shown to her.  There was a big shoot-out between the whores and the men, but by sundown, the bordello belonged to Adelaide.

[mppmaraudergirl]

Hi, I love that your playing

please for Remarkable & to keep a promise 1)What inspired you to write it? 5. How long did you think about writing it before actually writing it? 9. Did you listen to any music while writing it?

and for a little more happy go lucky For Chasing James (i think that one was inspired by enthusiastic asks... but please share if that's completley off the mark ;-) 13. What scene were you most excited about writing?

Oh hi there. :) what a lovely ask, thank you so much! I'm going to answer under the read more since, knowing me, this will get somewhat long!

Remarkable - only one lives AU

What inspired you to write it?

There was a run of sad one-shots that were published within a 24ish hour period, and I wanted to join in on the fun 🙃

How long did you think about writing it before actually writing it?

I literally came up with it and wrote it within the span of like 1-2 hours lol. Absolutely no chill.

Did you listen to any music while writing it?

I didn't! I actually wrote it on NYE sitting on the couch next to my husband, occasionally reading the saddest lines outloud to him 😂

---

to keep a promise - only one lives AU (again!)

What inspired you to write it?

This was based off a jilychallenge prompt that I knew I wanted to make a sad one where a promise could not be kept.

How long did you think about writing it before actually writing it?

I had the idea right away when I first got the prompt but I think it took me some time to find time/inspo/energy to write it.

Did you listen to any music while writing it?

I did, actually. I think the thing that finally sparked it was Faith Hill's There You'll Be so I had that on repeat for a little while. It's another short story so it did not take long to write!

---

Chasing James - a companion to Chasing Life (this feels a bit like cheating but I won't complain haha)

This companion was definitely, in part, inspired by the outpouring of love and interest in it. But ultimately I loved this story enough to want to stay in it just a bit (12k) longer. It was also the first story where I was posting the alternate POV of scenes before the story was completed. I'm not sure if that had any impact on how much people enjoyed the story or not.

What scene were you most excited about writing?

Gosh so many! Because I got to add in little scenes/conversations that James had no idea were happening in the background and that was lots of fun for me because when I was writing the original, these scenes were still happening in my head, I just had no need to put them anywhere. Loved finding a purpose for them!

But if I had to choose, I would say the rooftop scene. I had a handful of asks for that scene in particular and I held off until I wrote the companion. It was one of my favorite scenes in CL, a turning point that I had written very early in the process of writing this story so it was particularly gratifying to get to.

The scene I was most nervous about tackling was their first time together from Lily's POV. I had to write and rework it a few times before I was happy with it. Writing a sex scene is hard enough, but then swapping POVs and still keeping it interesting but true to the POV swap was a challenge! Glad I did it though 😊

[seancamerons]

Hi, Brimi! What specific passion projects are you working on right now?

hey, good question here's a list!

(list is under the cut for answers)

starting with my writing. i started working on a story called faking It, a long fic, a few small short drabbles or shortfics, advancing older passion fic projects and requests from prompts which are usually short except an ambitious go of a story about fake dating and trauma, very teen movie esque or that was my intentions to play with.

the one i've been a busy bee with in this holiday season with others on the back burner or tinkering at, this is my like baby right now in terms of story. second, i'm doing holiday cards and holiday shopping while watching Christmas movies, eating Christmas cookies and writing this big longfic as some holiday hallmark vibe, home for the holidays heartwarming and fluffiest with some dark degrassi vibes and there you have, where are you now? loosely based on the song by britney spears, where emma is a star of britney, beyonce and taylor and the other pop girlies that is, in this universe. so like the female drake, but pop, upbeat girly anthems and pink pink pink, but her life is far from happy. the title comes from a song of the same album, albiet a deep cut a song that to me, i interpret fit too as if "where are you now?" is a story about someone she's much in love with, but for whatever reason there's nods to this in the story so it's a fitting title to me, because it harps about the grief behind a long love or loved one, but someone they can't shake they're living but they're also lost and they just want to know where they are, so they can feel closure by distance. boom.

it wasn't initally this much thought out, here's an inside story like I'm some episode of MTV cribs and stuff), like where i tell you all about how it came to be but I'll give you a brief synopsis.

taking it back to 2004, when i wrote my rough and i mean ROUGH idea. i used to think lyrics in songs were stories, beyond the music, behind the veneer of entertainment and i crafted and molded the characters with a general story of how they are in adulthood and what led them to the lives they live combined with the choices they made.

a difference with canon is craig and manning, the hosts of this holiday visit, and they all live together like full house the Jeremia-manning-santos household is a very chaotic but loving place to decvibe it. they're happy, frugal, average Canadian homebodies. they both have jobs, drive an escalade and craig has a vintage car in candy apple red with white interiors he keeps under lock and key a stuble nod to Ferris Bueller an 80's film, they all never really flew the coop but joey who plays a prominent grandfather to craig and manny's baby, who is now in 2023, an attractive mashup, a dark cloud sour puss who's been through some difficult times, grappling with grief and depression and headed for a breakdown and a fall from grace, a loss of innocence and a crisis of faith. stuck between a rock and hard place, craig and manny's daughter is unreachable, rebelling and internally screaming, but trying and failing to be 'perfect' for her mother and father, fighting them at every turn. it's my first go at a deeply flawed character who is blunt and honest. who has been through a lot in her life, despite having a loving family, but across the board. she's not popular, looks younger than she is, a late bloomer, innocent and smart, but doesn't apply herself or think much for herself. she is easily influenced by others and spouts out political commentary. She is average academically, nonremarkable, painfully realistic, or an attempt at a portrayal of someone like someone i know.

needless to say, i'm excited. it's something I'm committed too after having some writers block this year, i also was busy this fall and hard at work on even more passion projects. this is something i do before bed, to unwind. i work all day, and then if i have time i do edit and proofread. I'm not an expert or anything, i do the best i can and write what i feel or what compels or comes to me. i could type for HOURS and it doesn't phase me. i know i could use assistance knowing whats relevant to mention, but i think it's part of me and my charm to wordy, but does the job, natural speech trying to be a non partial narration, usually past tense and future stense or present is checked but third person with asides of course descriptive and stuff but that's the HARDEST PART is showing and not telling all the time.

to achieve that i do write montages or asides to achieve or speech or dialogue between characters or heavily imply through tones or describing but i try to make the believability more than canon because this is something i came up with while i wrote on the show BASED account and i toy with things that happen later. so for instance, craig and manny had a baby, but what are they happy now that she's older, no because they are passing ships in the night. unhappy but in a domestic partnership where they coexist but do their own thing, are more like roommates and less lovey-dovey on most occasions. I'm getting off track, but that's that story and I've been dying to talk about it since starting it in October and now I'm reaching the end of it and I'm actually going to miss this story that is a long time coming, almost 12 or 13 years ago i brainchilded this and only now getting to it. i think it's better than my rough draft a lot of changes were made and embellehsed and built upon.

i moved and relocated in mid-october, i've been slowly organizing and its been hard to make time but it's a pleasure to write. it really is. it feeds my need for semma to be happy, so in turn I'm happy and I'm itching to talk about it. my poor semma shipper boyfriend, he loves them, but i think it's because he knows i love it but he does really love them. so that's passion project one.

passion three, is the others such as faking it i mentioned before, is a fake au, where i was initially going with for the emma and jay summer romantic drama i wrote mostly during the pandemic being bored and even creating accompanying art work i vow to see through to my older projects and finish them out. i mean i have no excuse or whatever i should stop starting NEW fics but i am who I am.

passion 4 has nothing at all to do with writing and everything to do with graphic design my second love i love and design things, iykyk but i also like making passion projects like cd covers, alternative movie posters, fliers and online fandom graphics in various styles.

passion projects for example, i'm currently want to make myself a online store not like redbubble but for printables and art related stuff and where i can track commsions for people for paid art. i wanna monetize my art and design skills but its been awhile since college and i feel confident to try again with more gusto. so keep an eye out. my tagged posts are like where that is.

i make a lot of occasion cards in greetings and idk how to launch anything so I'm in the process of the grueling educating research to get my project off the ground and talk to others who are into the same things. i don't want a fandom specific store, multi fandom and interest store. maybe a few show related (another passion) or film alternatives.

cleaning and taking pride in myself has been a game changer, organizational furniture and decorating for both life and for holidayskeep me focused and excited for the day ahead and organization keeps things easy in the morning. so that's a difference, i prioritize and carve out time on sundays or during the week sometimes for maybe an hour to sift through and organize my items and keep things clean.

some ongoing personal resolutions and hopes to achieve or work on long term year round, such as bucket listed for in the new year list of 10 goals i hope to achieve.

continued weight loss goals from last year, making progress with, and managing health and wellness

2. hand drawing/lettering practices to improve

3. coloring more to give me something to do

4. quit smoking, again in 2024! start the holidays (potentially) smoke-free (ambitious, i hope i can!)

5. budget better/manage money and learn the difference of wants and needs, stop treatin' myself so much, because my budgeting needs work!

6. eat healthier

7. design more projects and try to generate interest and exposure in art-based community

8. spend time with friends and family, make time for people and alow to live in the moment

9. build an online presence/website/shop (see 7)

10. continue to focus when it doubt, on mental health self-care practices healthy communication, make good choices in trusting with care✨💌