#so anyways of course I had to turn it into a meme

[milomilesmib]

Nico, holding up a half-eaten slice of pizza: Percy... Help...

Percy, taking the pizza: what the fuck? What's wrong with you?

Will: *trying and failing miserably not to laugh his ass off*

[currentlyonstandbi]

I am nothing in my soul if not obsessive.

[laikahh]

okay switched to my laptop i can try to write down some thoughts now

[hussyknee]

i'm so confused rn, can you explain the goncharov thing?? i get off tumblr for five minutes

(Edits closed as of 28 Nov.)

Lmaoooo

Nah I getchu. So this post has been circulating for like two years:

Link to post.

But yesterday, it had inspired someone to do this:

Link to post.

Next thing I knew there were fake Letterboxed reviews.

Goncharov moodboards. Really good ones.

Link to post.

Meta analysis. So many fake meta essays. Disturbingly good ones. And of course the memes. (Edit: HAVE I SAID THIS SHIT IS DISTURBING)

As you can see, the myth just started to grow, characters and ships and tropes being added one after the other, almost bizzarely without contradiction, until there was enough of shape to the whole thing for people to start posting fanfic about it on AO3. "No beta we die like ice-pick Joe" is already a tag.

Link to post.

It was hilarious in the beginning, but the way it's developed within less than a day, kind of like it's being willed into existence, is freaking me out a bit. We're toying with powers beyond our comprehension. 😂😂😂

Link to post.

Of course, there could be an ulterior motive as well.

Link to post (tags mine).

Edit: guys, please tag these posts "unreality" so people with disassociation issues can filter them out (not this one, this is an explainer). <3

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Edit 2: Aparently the boots in the original post are actually referring to a movie called Gomorrah that came out in 2008, directed by Mateo Garrone, based on the Scampia Feud. And other people had also been making posts about the fake movie for a while before the poster took off.

found by @thepotch

Edit 3: Explainer: why did those boots have this movie on them anyway?

Edit 4: Alt text added to all images courtesy of @valentineish ❤️

Edit 5: Turns out tumblr has done this kind of thing before. Nine years in this hell place and I had to have "Squiddles" and penis smp explained in the replies.

Edit 6: This post collects the Lore so far.

Edit 7: Lynda Carter (real one)/ earns more/ Tumblr cred.

Edit 8: Holy shit y'all we have the theme music. With sheet music. And it's on Spotify!

Edit 9: THERE IS A TRAILER WITH THE THEME MUSIC

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I made this post 18 hours after the movie poster went up. Closed edits 27 hours after first posting. So all of the above happened within 45 hours of the movie poster going up.

Edit 10: Google document live-compiling all the lore so far (Day 3)

Edit 11: Masterpost of Goncharov soundtracks (Day 3)

Edit 12: Entertainment news articles covering the Gonch-posting (real) (Contd from yday)

Edit 13: The music from the masterpost all compiled into a 31-minute original score with video edits on YouTube (edit: unfortunately taken down)

Edit 14: Staff's Goncharov art showcase for Tumblr Tuesday

As of closing on Day 3 there are 371 works in the AO3 tag.

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Updating with Day 3 shenanigans I missed yesterday:

Edit 15: Goncharov TV Tropes page

Edit 16: Ethics of Gonchposting

Important PSA 1 (how to reduce harm to Tumblr's neurodivergents)

Important PSA 2 (reality affirmation, anti-bullying)

Important PSA 3 (why you should stop trying to vandalise legit information sites)

Edit 17: Character lore from beezlebub whose poster they originated from

Edit 18: What we know about/ Director Matteo JWHJ0715 (#unreality)

Edit 19: Link to post with screenshotted and described NYT article (scroll down) and this golden exerpt from BuzzFeed: 💀

(alt text included)

End of Day 4 there are now 485 works in the Goncharov tag on AO3

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Didn't get to update this on Day 5, so these are the Day 5 doings:

More trailers!

Trailer 1 (My favourite)

Trailer 2

Trailer 3

Trailer 4

I also just found out about the Goncharov Game Jam.

It appears this opened a day after after the meme took off.

Goncharov was first entered into Wikipedia between Day 4 and 5 (attempts to vandalise it with fake info don't count, incidentally – please knock that shit off) under List of Internet Phenomena. This was then expanded into its own Wikipedia page at the end of Day 5 because, according to the talk history: "the topic now meets the notability threshold for its own artice due to significant coverage in The New York Times and other sources cited." We're on Wikipedia, people!

And then we made The Guardian half a day later. So while the meme is definitely dying down to embers by now, it still stays winning.

YouTube channels with episodes on the meme:

InformOverlord (4:30)

Lessons in Meme Culture (2:43)

End of Day of 5 there were 511 works on AO3, and End of Day 6 (today) there are 556.

--

🚨BREAKING 🚨 from Martin Scorsese's daughter's TikTok (real actual)

tw: unreality:

We did it you guys!

Clarification: Francesca Scorcese asked her Dad about the meme and Martin played along. Please reblog this PSA to help Tumblr people with psychosis. Thanks.

Final edit: Day 8. Media reactions to Scorcese's TikTok (everyone from Forbes to Vulture). That one Tumblr user who said they'd do a screenplay if their post got notes has promised to shoot a single scene, but please don't be dicks just because you reblogged it; leave them alone until they get around to it themselves. As of end of Day 8 there are 609 works in the AO3 tag. I love all you lunatics. Peace! ❤️

[catsvrsdogscatswin]

I started reading Discworld earlier this year –because I figured it's a cultural treasure and I may as well get around to it by now– and like, I knew something about Terry's ability to sneak underhanded puns into the texts –I've seen the posts. I'd also read Good Omens, even if at that point I couldn't disentangle who was writing what.

So I entered the books fully like the Stay back, slut meme, except regarding wordplay. I was reading with a fine-toothed comb. I was squinting at every name and testing every phoneme. Not necessarily because I don't like puns or didn't enjoy the idea of getting caught by surprise, mind you, just that I'd heard very good things about Terry Prachett's humor and I didn't want to miss any of his jokes and with wordplay stuff if you don't catch it, you'll never know it existed.

I caught a lot of stuff, and even when I didn't get some of the references (the series stretches across a lot of decades I wasn't born in) I could still at least tell when he was making them. I made it out of my grand read with a pat on the back and a certain pleasure in the knowledge that I had enough pop-culture and etymological awareness to not let Terry pull a fast one on me.

In classic Pratchett fashion, turns out I was dead wrong.

I was rereading Soul Music, because even if I'm late to the party I still enjoyed the Discworld books immensely, and I got to the scene where a bunch of schmucks with no music knowledge (or talent) are infected by the spirit of rock n' roll and descend in a horde upon a guitar shop. The owner starts off trying to sell them decent instruments, but, soon realizing his new flow of customers couldn't play a triangle and are more interested in the look of the thing anyways, he promptly starts pulling out his scrappiest, crappiest pseudo-instruments (Ankh-Morpok, amiright) and sticking a bunch of paint, glitter, and ankh-stones on them for the look of things before selling them at marked-up prices.

Ankh-stones were first mentioned in Sourcery, I think, and were used in the creation of the fake Archchancellor's hat. They get mentioned in other books on and off as a source of bedazzlement that's pretty clearly meant to be a riff on rhinestones. First time I read about them, I went "oh what a nice little bit of worldbuilding, of course some gems would get named after local stuff" and thought no more on it. But like…

Ankh-stones.

Rhinestones. Rhine-stones.

The infamously nasty River Ankh that flows(?) through Ankh-Morpok, and the River Rhine, a real river that exists.

I just about swore and hit the table when I clocked that one, because I went into the series ready for it, I was looking for it, and Terry still fuckin' got me good.

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Demon Children Are Multiplying

This idea is still stuck in my head, and I might even end up writing something out of it, but for now, I just thought of something equally really, really stupid and really, really funny.

What if I combine that idea with Al Ghul Twins. I don't know how. Maybe Talia was cautious about Ra's not wanting to keep two kids for a position of Heir, or maybe she staged Danny's death, or maybe something else entirely happened. But anyway, Danny is Damian's twin.

Then, Dani is the same age as Danny in this AU. And Dan is de-aged to be the same age as both of them.

Now behold an absolute train wreck of a situation where Bruce attends a Gala hosted by Vladimir Masters. Together with Damian, of course, and maybe other batkids are there too. They all part their ways to make their rounds or whatnot. And they all keep seeing Damian wherever they go. Just everywhere.

Dick is talking to someone, and Damian walks past him, not paying him any attention. Which is not surprising, but a little rude, and, wait, wasn't he wearing a red tie? When did he change it to green one?

Tim is just going on the top floor to greet a lady he recognizes from some other event, and Damian all but storms in the opposite direction, only letting Tim catch a glimpse of his face. But when Tim turns around, he is really confused: the person running down the stairs is clearly a girl, albeit she is wearing a suit. Her long hair is up in a complicated braid. Why did he even mistake her for Damian?

But the ultimate confusion happens when Bruce is talking to Vladimir Masters, and a very familiar voice calls, "Father". Because both he and Vladimir turn to face the boy and ask, "Yes?" at the same time.

Damian is standing there, looking between Bruce and Vlad. He looks a little off somehow, but before Bruce can figure out why, the boy blinks and focuses on Vlad.

"We've been looking for you," he tells the man, and, wait, when was Damian looking for Masters? Furthermore, who is we?

But then another child comes closer. And-

That's Damian.

That's two Damians.

Wait, no, none of them are Damians.

"What is it?" Vladimir raises an eyebrow, not paying too much attention to Bruce's blanched expression.

A third child comes towards them, and this one also looks like Damian, only this one is a girl.

"Template's duplicate is here," she says, and Vlad frowns, turning to the Damian lookalike in the middle.

"Have you had another incident that I don't know of?"

Whatever answer the boy wanted to give is cut off by a n o t h e r child who looks like- no, this is real Damian, thank God, Bruce had started to wonder if the champagne was spiked with hallucinogens.

"Father-" he stops in his tracks as the three other children turn to him, and the four of them just stare at each other for a long moment. Then the one in the middle takes a sharp breath in and stage-whispers:

"Quick, do the meme!"

And all three not-Damians start pointing at each other.

Bruce is going to have an aneurysm. Judging by Vladimir's face, he is also not far from one.

Just my ramblings under the cut

I think you all know what meme I'm talking about, but I'm still gonna add it

This is so fucking hilarious to me, I'm sorry, I just can't

Danny is not missing this opportunity of a lifetime, even though Vlad specifically asked all three of them not to cause a scene. And yes, they all call Vlad "father" just for the spite of it or for shits and giggles. I'm going with Bad Fentons idea here, although I'm not sure to which degree they are bad, but anyway, Vlad is their legal guardian, and he is redeemed.

Yes, Dick took a picture. Yes, it's already in the group chat. Yes, other batkids are going wild.

Damian is greatly confused because, first, he thought there was a clone of him at the gala, but apparently, there were three of them, and second, why are they pointing at each other? Should he join them? He is under the assumption his brother is dead (he's not exactly wrong on that account), or he doesn't even know he existed.

This is as far as I got now, feel free to add anything!

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Hi !!!! I’m sorry if this is bothering you and if so you can totally ignore this but…

I’ve been thinking about how Ghost would react to reader gradually pulling away from him because she gained some weight and is self conscious and ashamed and doesn’t want to be seen by him, so sculpted and beautiful… but of course he’s feeling low because he wants to be close to reader and so he asks and she finally explains it to him (ready to be broken up with…)…. And I’d love to read your take on it !

You can make it female or gender neauteal I don’t really care !!!! Thank you anyway ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Wildflowers Grow in Ruins

(Ghost x F!Reader, word count: 5 k)

Summary: Reader tries to break up with Ghost because she thinks she's not good enough for him.

Tags/warnings: FLUFF, soft sensual smut 🔞, hurt/comfort, light angst, Jealous!Ghost, Soft!Ghost, self-loathing & self-body shaming. Good girl talk/praise kink. Reader is female and wears a skirt for smut plot purposes.

A/N: I hope you like this take & I hope you don't mind that I tweaked this request just a little bit!) Also: JFC I'm wordy. The "I need to explain why they're fucking!" meme comes to mind every time I write anything.

Wars are exhausting. 

You know fighting for something can empower people. Fighting against something usually just depletes your strength.

But waging a war against yourself… 

Now that is pure hell. 

It started somewhere in your youth. You thought adulthood would take it away; that reason and tolerance would take it away. You were supposed to feel more confident in yourself, more positive about life. And for a moment, you thought you might just succeed.

But standing beside a god of war is no easy feat.

He came into your life like a walking myth, swept you away, and you only laughed as you went. It was fun at first. He was supposed to be your savior, the solution to all your problems. If a man like him found you attractive, perhaps it was the world that was crooked and not you.

But then you got soft: you started to gain pounds. Meanwhile, he became even more magnificent. It reminded you that it had all been just a dream.

Perhaps it was his eyes that seemed to worship you, that seemed to look past your every flaw. Perhaps it was the hands which never seemed to get enough of your skin. Whatever it was, it was too much. And at the same time, never enough.

The day has finally come to let him go.

You think yourself heroic. It's like it should be: it's only right that you finally release him to someone better than you.

But inside, the noble feelings twist and turn and curl around your throat and stuff your stomach full of ice - the kind they fill glasses of mojito with. The drink you'll always remember him by because he teased you about it: that you wanted an ice-cold summer drink even in the middle of winter.

Now you feel cold all over, and wish he could warm you like he used to. 

You would forsake all the mojitos of the world to keep him. You would renounce the whole drink if it came to that; if you could make him yours.

But he's not yours. He never was: he was just on loan to give you a taste of what it would be like to have a man like him. That taste should be more than enough for a lifetime. You should feel grateful.

So why is it so hard to let go?

The key on the front door turns, and your heart shoots up your throat: you're supposed to settle this thing once and for all. You're supposed to let go of him today. 

And still, when he arrives, you can't find the courage to say what you need to say. The words are stuck in your throat, but tears are not. He should already be a memory, but you find yourself suffocating on memories as you cry. You've learned to do even that in silence, like the rest of your suffering.

You take a few deep breaths, wipe the tears away, shove the rest of them down your throat – you save them for later, later, when he's far away and you can finally curl up and cry your heart out without no one there to look. Fucking later.

Good. 

Good.

Great.

You put your heaviest armor on. It protects weak and soft flesh because you can't meet him all bare. Then you step forward with the knowledge that you’re a thoroughly wounded guerrilla while he is a seasoned, well-rested veteran. The fight is nowhere near even, but it's ok. You are not meant to be in the presence of immortals anyway.

The man looks at you warily as you finally enter the room. That haunted look has followed you for some time now as the distance between you has grown. 

It should be easy, what is about to come, because he hasn't touched you in weeks. You haven't wanted him to.

Or you have… But it's not easy to have his hands on you when your body is only a vessel you hate. How can you even think about pleasure when all you think about is how it must feel for him to caress something as awful as this?

The man is a vision, and he settles for a peasant. It should be against the law, but it's not… so you figured a some time ago that you should simply find the strength and grace to do ii: do what's right.

"I need to talk to you." 

Your voice comes out neutral, and it makes you more confident, if only for a second or two.

He lifts his chin: already knows what's coming, because he's not stupid. You've been shutting down for weeks, and he hasn't done much about it. But when the thunder rolls in, he doesn't flee. Probably because he fears nothing.

"Go ahead then," he says, equally as neutral, equally as icy. Got his armor on, too. 

This should be easy…

It's really not, so you decide to rip the band-aid off in one yank.

"I think we should go separate ways."

The following inhale from across the room pierces the air like a bullet. You can hear his breaths gain depth and speed all the way to where you're standing.

"Ok."

It doesn't look or sound like he's ok. If anything, he looks like he's trying to process the sudden storm. 

"Ok…" His eyes are on the floor as he rubs the back of his neck. Then he starts to pace around the little kitchenette you've shared for almost six months, just before you started gaining weight.

He stops to look out the window, then turns to you, and the hurt in his stare comes through like a thousand needles pushing through skin.

"Is it because of my work?" 

"No."

"What is it then?"

Your breaths are getting out of hand, too. He looks like a lost, tired creature in an abandoned animal shelter for a moment, and it breaks your heart. It squeezes the organ inside a flaming fist until it shatters like it has never been nothing more than ice.

Your lip starts to tremble, and he notices, as per usual. Nothing escapes this man, except perhaps the true reason for your anguish.

"Hey. Hey."

He comes to you and hugs you like it's the only thing that matters: to comfort you when he sees you're about to cry, no matter how crushed he's feeling himself. The sudden warmth, the intimacy after weeks and weeks of pain is knee-buckling. 

"Is there anything I can do to change your mind?"

His voice is soft, so soft… The tears rush forth now; there's no way of stopping them. What the hell can you even say to a question like that? That you wish he could grab a magic wand and turn you into someone gorgeous, the woman he deserves?

His embrace feels good, kind of. It also feels smothering because your self-hate makes you want to disappear from existence entirely. His eyes are equal to physical touch, a probing scan that sees every little flaw, not to talk about massive faults, the ones which make you feel like you're simply disgusting. His touch only reminds you how you must feel like to him: soft, too soft, weak.

And he must hate weakness.

"What do you need me to do? I'll do anything," he tries with a parched throat, then swallows. 

It's fucking horrible. This isn't going at all like you had imagined.

"It's not about you," you struggle out of his hold, and he lets you go with reluctance. You have to basically fight your way out of a bone and steel prison. Why would he even want to hold a pathetic woman who's on the brink of ugly crying on top of everything?

"What do you mean?"

He's slightly breathless – and restless as fuck. He's usually so calm; nothing can get to him, nothing can rattle the tower of raw strength. Now you've not only pierced some invisible armor; you can hear pieces of it falling on the floor.

"Have you found someone else?"

What the…

"No." You put as much weight on that word as you possibly can. To imagine that he thinks you are cheating… Fucking cheating on someone like him. "Jesus Christ…"

He takes a deep breath and sighs deeply, sighs out relief, perhaps. Then his razor-sharp stare fixes on you again, and you can see the fear turning into something akin to concern. You suspect you have to tell him the truth, otherwise he will dig it out of you. 

"I'm just…" 

Jesus, this is just humiliating. 

"I'm just not your type."

"What the hell are you talking about," he mutters, the impending fury giving way to momentary surprise. 

He gets intense sometimes. This time, the ferocity is born of barely concealed distress. He's broad and magnificent, even in despair. He’s just so fucking fine… The perfect man, someone you had never even imagined yourself with. Pulled down to the world of puny mortals, evidently stressing about losing one. 

Losing you.

"If you have someone new, you can just bloody well tell me."

"It's not that. You don't understand–" 

"Try me."

"I just…" A tear escapes down your face as you finally break for him. "I'm fat. Okay? And ugly. And–"

"Stop right there."

The look on his face is just… It's priceless, you suppose.

"Bloody fucking hell…" 

He looks at the floor, then runs his fingers through the short cut hair on top of his head. You've yanked those blonde strands more times than you can count, nearly every time he's been between your legs, and you miss it – you long for it, like fallen angels long for heaven. 

And if there was a time this man was rendered speechless, you would say you were witnessing that moment right now. His brows knit together, then he looks up at you again with blaring disbelief.

"You're serious?"

"Yes."

"This is the reason you wanna break up?"

Ugh.

"Yes?"

His voice grows rougher with every question until it resembles thunder, and you suspect this is the commanding tone his soldiers are used to hearing. 

But you're not: it's gravelly, harsh, and betrays the feeling of having been insulted. You feel even more devastated with yourself – it appears you can do nothing right.

"Where has this… idea even come to your head?"

"I don't know." 

"And you never thought to ask my opinion?"

"Would you please stop yelling," you whisper and blink back some putrid tears. His mouth is snapped shut, his head pulls back just a little as he realizes what he's done. 

"Sorry," he says with a half-whisper, and you catch the strain in his throat. You've never seen him cry, but now his voice is suddenly thin and frail. "I'm sorry."

He takes a step, then another, places fingertips on the counter as if to take the faintest support.

"Can I touch you?"

You don't really want him to do that, but you feel pity for the man. He's trying to find a way through this mess, and you want to help him.

"Yes," you whisper, and he immediately comes and takes you in his arms again. Hot tears disappear into his shirt, and you sniff a few times. He feels so good, so safe, even when you're about to lose him. His hold tightens around you, and the kitchen is silent; the whole world is silent. You don't know if you're being put to a grave or if you're in a deaf womb, waiting to be reborn.

"Now I don't know who's said this shite to you but ugly is the last fucking thing I'd call you," he declares above you. As if it was some bully whose fault it is that you were this way, a bully he could deal with with his fists or a gun. If only things were that easy…

"Have I said or done something? To make you feel this way?"

Then the blade is turned against himself. The man desperately searches for a culprit so he can deal with them.

"No," is the only thing you can say because it's true: he has never done a thing to make you feel like you weren't good enough; quite the contrary. But then again, he doesn't have to. It's enough that he exists and resembles a god.

"Then why do you think you're not my type?"

"Because you're so perfect," you hear yourself wail, no, cry into that shirt that smells of sweet safety and familiar musk – his scent, another thing you have missed like it's the only way to heaven.

"That for sure ain't true."

"But it is."

He seems to have the utmost difficulty in grasping what the issue here is. You can almost hear the wheels turning in his head with a rusty, laborious creak.

"Can't believe you wanna break up because of this," he finally says. You've chipped his pride, the ego that lives off of pleasing the ones he loves: the few chosen ones who he wants to give his whole life to. 

"To me, you're perfect," he then says, and you simply… You stop breathing. "You're like… my dream woman. Ever thought about that?"

It can't be true, even if you vehemently, desperately want it to be. You reach out to his words like they're precious food after years of famine. Like they're sun and spring rain after being buried in the cold, dark soil whole winter.

"No…?"

"Never occurred to you that I might find you fucking beautiful?"

"Stop," you whisper, because it's too much to take in. He sounds so serious, so sincere.

"No, I don't think I will."

He pulls back a little and cups your face. Brushes away a tear, looks at you with so much love that it physically hurts; you feel like it's a lance that slowly drives through your heart.

"How about I kiss every part I love about you?"

You let out a soft little whimper. Fuck, that you want him to… 

It would also be uncomfortable as hell. To try and let him love you and your body, which you have grown to loathe.

"It's gonna take all night, though. Wanna be as thorough as possible."

"Simon–"

"Love. I want you. Thought I'd made it pretty clear, but apparently I haven't. If you only knew how much–"

He sighs deeply. The man is frustrated with his shortcomings, thinks that this is all his fault. You cry a tear or two just for the sake of how absurd it all is. 

"I don't want you to go. I fucking love you. Everything about you."

For the second time this afternoon, your lower lip starts to tremble as if this was some stupid, romantic movie. He can be so soft when he wants to, more romantic than the soft-spoken gentlemen in Jane Austen's novels. It doesn't even require any effort: underneath the cynical surface, there's fiery emotion, so powerful and raw that it almost bleeds out of him. Fuck… Does he even know what he's doing to you?

"I love you too," you whisper back, and the warmth that starts to bloom in his eyes is an entire sun on its own. It's hope, and you believe him, almost believe him.

"Then I'd say it's a bloody bad idea to break up."

You chuckle while few more tears push through to the surface.

"Simon…" You sigh and look back up at him, your armor falling to the floor too. "I feel like a wreck."

You allow him to see the pain, all of it. His breath is sharp as it hits him, but he still doesn't waver.

"Then let me help you."

The arms around you gain more strength, and you're crushed against a chest made of power. He tries to turn shit to gold, and threatens to succeed. You allow yourself to soften in his hold. How good it feels to be supported – no, loved.

"You don't even let me touch you anymore."

It's a filed complaint, but also heart-rending, soul-wrenching longing. You have evaded him for weeks now – hell, this shit began months ago and has escalated gradually, stealthily, until the moments together were a rarity, the space between you was full of frost; and not the crispy, happy summer drink kind.

"I thought you'd found someone else. Could've found out if that was the case in minutes, but honestly, I didn't wanna know."

Oh my God…

Has he lived with a growing suspicion and dread all these months? 

That would explain why he has avoided you too…

He has allowed you to go to your supposed lover, has given you space to be alone and without too much attention. The man has shielded himself from pain. 

Jesus fucking Christ.

"I'm so sorry," you say with a strained little breath. "I swear it's nothing like that. I just… I feel like a mess."

"Never seen such a gorgeous mess." 

He speaks on your skin, the kiss on your forehead feels like an absolution. 

Then you notice it's not only his words which try to assure you. He's growing harder by the minute against your stomach, just from a simple hug. Just from being pressed against you like this, after weeks of dry, bitter longing.

"Miss your taste," he murmurs to your skin, his voice like sand wrapped in burning velvet. "The sounds you make when you want it hard."

Oh God–

"Miss your smile when we go to shower after."

"Hmh…"

"Don't wanna live without that smile."

You don't have to. 

God, you don't have to…

"How about we make a deal," he draws fingers down your chin, coaxing you to look up at him. His eyes are stripped from the cold distance that greeted you just moments ago: now they are filled with warmth that spreads to your chest and belly and bones. You drink him in like summertide.

"You come to me every time you feel bad and I'll make you feel good. Alright?"

"...Ok." 

He tilts his head a little to the side, not entirely satisfied with your shy little answer.

"Come on. Make me believe it."

"It's a deal," you say with more grit to it, even if you're nearly crying again, this time from relief.

"That's my girl."

Oh fuck…

He knows exactly what strings to pull, the good girl talk being one of the things that instantly makes your legs feel like jelly. 

And why does he always have to use that voice when he calls you a good girl or his girl, that sultry smoke that makes you want to swoon until he catches you and carries you to bed?

The man seems to be a mind reader as well, because he sweeps you off your feet and does exactly that: carries you to your bed which has mainly seen silent tears and painful sleep last months.

"Poor thing doesn't even know how lovely she is."

He sounds amused in the face of your darkness: sees it in full and still doesn't fear at all. He's ready to battle your demons for you, and you feel like shaking: from his touch and that voice, from the stress and loneliness that starts to release as he lays you down on the bed.

He looks so different from the man that has haunted this place for the past months, the complete opposite of the reserved soldier retreating into the shadows.

He moves to kiss you, and it's been – what? Weeks since your last kiss? And even that was only a quick peck, nothing like this… Wet, and desperate; a devouring. It makes you clench around nothingness, and you finally surrender. 

No one can fake such fervor.

You try to accept it: accept the fact that even if you hate yourself, he does not. For some reason, he adores you. His breaths hit your face hot and urgent, and he can't keep his hands to himself anymore. They wander over your waist and hips, they even risk to steal a feel of your breasts, and then he groans in your mouth.

"I've missed you. Fuck, I've missed you..."

You taste notes of burning leaves; tobacco, his only weakness. You fantasize on the thought that you might be another weakness, too.

"Remember when I fucked you in my office?"

"I've missed you too," you utter softly in between the kisses that threaten to turn into a sloppy mess. "So much..."

He smiles at that, and it makes you weak, even when lying down like this.

"Yeah…?"

"You were so loud I had to put a hand over your mouth."

His voice is thick as he laughs a short chuckle. Your inner walls clench again at the sound, you throb among the warm syrup surrounding you.

"Never seen you so wet. Almost dripped all over my gear."

"It's that stupid mask you wear," you hear yourself breathe like you've just been underwater. Feel yourself throb some more, feel a burning sensation in the nether areas from the scorched desert turning wet again. You want him so much that it actually hurts down there.

"Knew you'd like it. That's why I kept it on."

If this man keeps talking, your underwear is going to be utterly ruined. And of course he does; of course he continues to pour more love in your ear.

"Everyone looked at you like you were a queen," he grunts in your ear, sounding almost… pissed.

"Don't be ridiculous," you try to form sensible words. It's only a faint breath, really, but he huffs at your modesty. 

"You don't have eyes in the back of your head, love."

Wow… He is a bit pissed.

Had they checked your ass out when you visited him? 

It was the first and, what you thought, the last time you got to visit him at his workplace… but you never would have guessed the reason for him not asking you to visit again would be jealousy. 

"Don't worry. I put those fuckers in their place after you left." 

Whoa. 

Ok…

First, he had fucked you senseless in his office – a highly inappropriate move for a man in his position – then got jealous because some soldiers had checked you out as you left with his cum practically dripping from your cunt.

You put yourself in his shoes for a moment: he's had to live with thoughts of you running to some other man's arms when he's not home, and then watch you waltz around his workplace after making what was supposed to be the last effort to make him love you… When he has loved and adored you this whole time, has watched the sway of your ass with the rest of those home-deprived, horny soldiers, thinking you had fallen out of love and were on your way to go see some other guy.

Had he invited you there to try and win you back, too? By showing himself to you in all his puffed up, masculine glory? A desperate man in a skull mask, hoping to get love from you…

There's so many misunderstandings; they rip your throat. A sob escapes, and he stops his caress.

"Love… Tell me to stop if you–"

"No. No, I don't want you to stop." 

Your request comes out with such demand that he hesitates only a second or two. Then he moves on top of you and tugs your skirt up. You don't even have time to realize what is happening before he has worked himself out of his pants.

He's hard and heavy between your legs, and your eyes go wide as you realize he's not going to bother to take your briefs off. He just slides a hand under the skirt and draws the fabric aside, and the fat tip of him is pushed in the middle almost clumsily. It's hot, and slips down to your opening with ease.

Oh f–

"Been jerking off to you nearly every night at the base," he says just before he pushes himself in. 

"Uh–...."

Your thighs spread wide as he fills you slowly, inch after inch. The sound that leaves him is starved: a dry, painful sigh. He's been waiting for this for god knows how long, and you're just as hungry to take him in. He seems endless, the way he finally works himself fully inside, spreading you even wider as the thickening base of his cock reaches its end. 

"Thought you were getting railed by someone else while I only get to fuck my hand."

"Oh god…"

There's really nothing else to say as his balls press against you, heavy and taut. He's not going to last long.

"Yeah. Imagine that," he admits, breathless like you. 

You look at him with what must be the most helpless stare of longing in your eyes. Then he moves, and you want to grip him to keep him inside. The first thrusts are divine, they're pure heaven, and your head sinks deep into the pillow as you try to get enough air, try to not scream from pleasure already. Somehow, all you are able to utter is a desperate little whisper.

"Simon–"

His cock is good enough to bring tears to your eyes. You're starving too, you're pulling him in with fierce hunger, and he groans, then nearly falls forward, his weight pressing against you, swallowing you, until you feel like you're an idiot for thinking that you're too big. The thickness of his chest rubs against you as he makes love to you with passion that echoes the first times you did this.

"Just wanna adore you, love." He's panting desperate somewhere above you. A god and a man, both furious and gentle. "I wanna adore you. Just like this."

You answer him with what must be those sounds he told you about, the sounds you make when you want it hard. 

You want him to fuck you, to wreck you after weeks of loneliness and hate. To love you until you break into a million pieces.

"Simon," you whisper. "...Love me."

He halts, huffs in your neck. It's almost a sob. There's so much emotion and desperation in the air that it could be scooped up and sold in the streets.

"Always," he rasps in your ear, then moves to kiss you again. "Always."

The promise echoes around you, it coats your lips as he loves you with all he has. It's been so long, and he feels so good that you nails dig into his shirt, his shoulder, you try to hold onto him even though he's the wave that rocks you.

"You feel that?" He goes deep; he's out of breath and desperate, even more desperate than you. "That's love. You feel it, yeah?"

"Yes," you sob in his shoulder, tears trying to escape your waterline as you're going dumb from the pure sensation, the sensuality of it all. 

"That's it, love. That's a good girl," he turns to your neck and gruffs in your ear as you whimper and moan. "Always such a good girl."

Shit…

"I, I'm gonna…"

Your legs wrap around his middle, your muscles twitch and your hands reach and grab – they claw and yank and tug everything they can: his back, shoulders, shirt, something sturdy to keep you from drowning in a glorious orgasm.

He laughs in your neck and continues to grind you through your climax even when you're shattering, sighing, moaning, writhing under him. He just laughs, the man who never laughs: from witnessing you respond to him calling you a good girl.

Fucking bastard…

Lovable, infuriating bastard who knows you to your core. 

You're an overstimulated heap by the time he comes as well, not long after you, but long enough to make you feel like you're only a tender bunch of nerves. Your legs have fallen to the side, he has open access to take what he needs: you, your love, all of it.

His whole middle goes tense as he cums, he groans and swears somewhere deep into your neck, rolls his hips over and over again like it's a must that his balls press against you with every thrust that shoot his load. 

Then he falls slack, nearly collapses on top of you, reminding you of what it feels like to be small under a giant like him. You're throbbing together, you're full and fulfilled, and he is still lodged deep inside you, panting and broken in a sweat.

"Jesus Christ…" 

He sounds dazed. 

Relieved. 

"Should've done this weeks ago."

You laugh at seeing him so done – a man in love, torn by jealous yearning, finally taking what's his. You stroke his neck, his back – it's so good to have him finally there… So close, with no barriers in between.

"I should've talked to you weeks ago..." 

"Yeah. You should have."

"Are you going to punish me?" You giggle a little – the flirt is light and frees your heart further from its recent jail. He moves to look at you with all the tenderness there is. It's too much... His love is too much. But you won't run from it anymore.

"Nah. Think I'm gonna spoil you some more."

He spoils you right away with a kiss. You surrender to his treatment with happiness: happy tears, even. 

The medicine to your anguish has been the exact opposite to what you had first tried, what you had originally thought. The true remedy for your sickness is mercy. Perhaps some spoiling…

And love.

[darnell-la]

𝗣𝗜𝗖𝗞𝗘𝗗 𝗨𝗣 𝗙𝗥𝗢𝗠 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗕𝗔𝗥

pairing: dark!logan howlett x bartender!reader

warnings: bar fight, breaking in, kidnapping, rough sex (slight cnc), dominating, hair pulling, etc.

note: we love him. we really do. this was a quick story. it’s late at night!

follow our Instagram @ darnell.la so we can start posting random videos, photos, edits and memes of the people we write about!

————————————————————————

𝟯𝗥𝗗 𝗣𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗢𝗡 𝗣𝗢𝗩

Having to lock up because the Wolverine got into a fight at the bar, was one of the craziest things y/n had to do in a while. No one got hurt, but he did slice a couple chairs.

Y/n had to kick everyone out so she could clean up and close early for the night. Tonight was a long night anyway, so people didn’t complain.

Well, one did, and of course it had to be Logan. He told her he could stay and clean up, maybe have a drink after, but she denied and told him to leave.

He got snarky with her, stepping towards her and telling her she was too pretty to close up alone. That’s when she had to threaten to call the cops.

She’s now in the bar alone wiping down the last table. Tonight was a long annoying night, but at least she was tipped well.

Y/n sang as she put the towels up before walking to the front door. She noticed in her way, that a man was standing at the front with his back towards her.

She was confused for a second until the man turned around. It was Logan. How long has he been standing there? Did he ever leave?

Y/n went to speak behind the thick glass until she saw a smile grow on his face. She instantly knew he meant no good.

She lunged at the door too, hoping she could lick it but he pushed it open, causing y/n to slide across the floor.

“Should’ve taken me up on that offer,” Logan said as he stalked towards her. She backed up on the door until her back to the bar counter. He now stood over her, eyes fully dark. “Told ya it was unsafe for a pretty girl like you,”

Logan grabbed y/n’s arm, pulling her up then slamming her upper body on the counter. “No, get off!” Y/n yelled, trying to wiggle from under him, but his body was heavy.

“Can’t tell me that when I smell your pussy from here,” Logan said, shocking y/n. What was he talking about? “I always smell you. You love dressin’ like this around men? That gets you off?” The man asked as he traced his hand up her body, pulling her dress along.

“P-Please, Logan. You’re drunk. I-I won’t tell anyone if you leave now. I promise!” She said as his lips kissed on the back of her neck. She smelled amazing. She always does.

“Ian leavin, sweet cheeks — I’m too close to you to stop now,” he said, pulling her panties to the side, wasting no time to stick his middle finger in her cunt, curling as soon as he could.

Y/n whined low as Logan breathed down her neck. “Imagine who else would’ve been on you if I wasn’t here. Had to scare off a few people tonight, like any other night. You should thank me,”

“Thank me, princess,” Logan said again, pushing two fingers into her. “L-Logan, stop!” She cried out, trying to lean up, but he pushed her back down harshly with a huff.

“Hard to get — I’ll fix that,” he said, now tugging on his Jean, pulling them down until his cock fell out. She couldn’t see, but she felt him in between her thighs. He was fucking huge.

“Please, no — Logan, I can’t do this. N-Not at work,” she said, remembering these cameras could be only. Some days, the boss turns them on while others he turns them off to save money.

“Don’t worry, princess. Ima take you back to my place after this. Already moved around the apartment to your liking,” he said, confusing y/n.

She didn’t know, but he knew where she kept her spare key. Sneaking into her home and sometimes sleeping next to her for a little while was a nightly routine.

Y/n’s thoughts were cut off once Logan’s tip pushed through her slick. She cried out, feeling him stretch her in an instant. He was too big for her. He loved it.

“Fuuuckin’ hell, y/n. You’re a tight one,” Logan grunted on the back of her neck. “So fuckin’ tight — God, Ian gonna get enough of this,” his hips began to move at a faster pace, taking her hard on the bar counter.

Y/n gripped the ends, trying to brace herself, but he was fucking her too rough. “C-Can’t,” y/n barely got out as her cunt clenched around him. “Yes, baby — Yes,” he tugged at her hair as she came undone around his cock.

“So fuckin’ dirty, Bub. You just cleaned,” Logan chuckled as y/n cried onto the counter. She didn’t know what to do until she remembered one of the panic buttons was right under the counter.

Y/n tried not to make it obvious she reached under the counter, trying to find the button she usually never misses.

This time is a different thought. She’s being pounded into by the Wolverine.

“Whatcha doin, girl?” Logan asked, looking over her shoulder until he realized. Before he could pull her hands back, she pressed the button. Alarms went off and the bar lights turned red.

“Goddamnit, y/n,” he growled as he pinned both of her wrists behind her back, hurting her shoulders. “You just can’t listen, can you? So fuckin’ bad,” Logan used his free hand to push her face into the countertop.

“Fuckin’ bitch can’t even let me fuck her at work. When I’m done with you, you’re fucked,” the man spat, snapping his hips harder to get closer to his orgasm. He wanted to ruin y/n back at his place. Back at her new place.

Y/n cried into the counter, feeling mixed emotions about this all. He broke into the bar to use her, but why her? Aren’t there other women? Is she special to him?

“Cry all you want, y/n. You’re not getting out of any punishment tonight,” the man groaned in her ear as his hips stuttered. Her mouth parted, knowing what was happening.

Logan eventually spilled in her, still thrusting as y/n shook. She tried her best, but she ended up cumming again, but this time with a moan he knew was different from the others. They sounded needy.

Logan smirked, quickly pulling out of y/n and throwing her over his shoulder. He didn’t bother emptying every drop into her. He slipped his leaky cock back into his pants before walking out of the bar.

She kicked and screamed, but not loud enough to make them look out of their windows to help. Logan chuckled at the frisk act, knowing she was going to be a cute and fun toy for him.

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ

[kingdomvel]

Steddie | 2.3k | first part

“Okay, what was that?” Gareth asks the moment they are inside the room they are using as a dressing room for tonight.

“What was what,” Eddie answers.

“You know damn well what I mean.”

Eddie doesn’t answer, putting his best poker face on.

“That weird mating ritual you have been performing with the boy in the front row the whole night, maybe?” Jeff adds.

“I have no idea what you are talking about.” Eddie says, his voice flat as he tries to avoid the other’s gazes. He takes a towel to dab at his forehead.

“Come on, man,” Freak butts in, “you told him to stay after the concert, you have told Chrissy to get them here. We said we were not going to be that kind of band, that we were going to be like My Chemical Romance: no groupies and after concert dnd sessions.”

“Yeah, if you go with that guy what happens to our dnd session.”

“We can play dnd any other day, okay?” Eddie snaps, his hands stretched in front of him. A part of him thinks he looks like that meme of Chris Pratt in front of the dinosaurs, the other part of him detests that he thought of him. “I will make it up to you.”

“Who are you and what have you done to our DM?” Freak asks, his voice serious.

“Yeah, what is this talk about postponing dnd for some boy?” Gareth adds, there is something in his tone Eddie doesn’t like.

“Some boy? Some boy? Am I the only one with eyes in this fucking band? He is the hottest person that has laid eyes on me and I’m not letting you fuckers take that opportunity from me for one session of dnd or I swear to God I am killing every one of your characters.”

The boys don’t answer, they look at him with wide eyes and raised eyebrows.

“Wow” a voice says from behind Eddie.

He doesn’t recognize the voice but the expressions on the rest of the band in front of him make him freeze. They go from slightly annoyed to wary and to bemused. Mainly a mix of all at the same time.

The sounds of steps approaching them break the silence that had fallen in the room, before a voice finishes breaking it.

“How does dnd work with you nerds anyway, are you all bards or what?”

The boys drop their mouths open. Eddie still doesn’t recognize the voice, but there is only one person it can belong to. He sounds just as good as he had imagined. Eddie is honestly afraid of turning around after what the boy- Steve- has surely heard.

“Don’t pay attention to him,” a woman’s voice says. There’s the sound of a hit and a quiet ‘ow’ from Steve under it. “He is just trying to sound all confident after whining-“

“Robin.”

“Telling me to not get my hopes up because he probably wasn’t anyone important and you just did this every concert-“

“Robin.”

“But of course he is the luckiest bitch in this planet and has his instant crush reciprocated and-“

“Enough!”

There are some muffled noises that Eddie can only guess are the girl trying to continue speaking. He wishes she wouldn’t stop. His knight in shining armour may be embarrassed, but the rant has put a smile on Eddie’s face, has given him confidence again. He crosses his legs and turns around slowly, his hands coming up beside him.

“By all means, let her continue.”

The adonis, the hottest man that has laid eyes on him, his knight in shining armour, Steve takes his hand away from the girl’s mouth and rubs it on his jeans. Eddie can only guess the girl has licked it. God he wants to be her so bad right now.

“Hey,” Steve says, his hand coming up for a small wave. “Sorry about Robin.”

“No need for that. I’m Eddie.”

“I know,” Steve answers with a cocky smile as he crosses his arms.

“Oh and now you are acting all full of yourself as if you didn’t ask for the name of the band like 20 times 2 hours ago.” Robin says.

“Will you please just shut the fuck up?” Steve asks with the confidence only a best friend can have.  

“Not a fan then?” Eddie asks amused.

“Not really my scene,” Steve answers. There is a scoff behind Eddie, and if he wasn’t so lost in Steve’s brown eyes, he may have moved to swat whoever it was. “But I sure am a fan now.”

There is now a groan behind Eddie, but he can only focus on the way his heart jumps at the words, the way Steve’s mouth lifts in one side in a smirk, how his eyes spark.  

“I can get you front row tickets to all the gigs, baby.”

There’s a gagging noise being Eddie, and this time he does turn around to swat at Gareth. The little shit just laughs at him.

When he turns back towards Steve he is looking between them with a smile on his lips and he looks- damn- he’s been looking beautiful since he saw him at the beginning of the concert that night, but now his hair is a mess from the almost two hours of sweating and moving around and Eddie’s on stage confidence is slowly being replaced by his fast beating heart.

“Look man I-“ Steve starts, “I don’t want to be a problem,” he adds, glancing behind Eddie as he bites his lip. The girl next to him- Robin- turns to him with an incredulous look on her eyes that Eddie is sure mirrors his own. “But you are hot, I want to take you on a date, and the others wanted to meet you.”

Robin rolls her eyes and looks at Eddie with an eyebrow up.

“The others?” Eddie manages to say, just before he remembers the teenagers around Steve all night.

“Yeah, they are with Chrissy, I asked them to give us five minutes before coming.”

Eddie is about to say something, maybe ask about the date Steve mentioned, but in a second the door is filled with said teenagers, the one with the curly hair in the middle of it.

“YOU GUYS ARE LEGENDS!” he exclaims. It makes Eddie less annoyed about being interrupted. No one has really called them legends before, they have just surpassed 150k listeners in Spotify.

It feels good hearing it.

The dressing room fills with chatter fast, the boys and the teenagers getting along without problem. They take photos, talk about music, about their instruments, about their dnd tradition. The bad part of it all is that Eddie gets separated from Steve. He catches his eye at some point and Steve sends a little wave his way that he answers. He is talking with Robin and Chrissy and, by what Eddie can hear, Chrissy is getting every video Robin has managed to get of Eddie’s and Steve’s interactions through the concert, even a closer video of the kiss than the one Chrissy managed to get. From what he can hear, she wants to post everything on their social media before ‘someone else does and steals the chance at going viral from them’.

Eddie doesn’t know how he feels about posting Steve like that, Eddie should have probably thought, about that before making out with the guy in front of all their audience. But he seems completely comfortable with all of it. Eddie guesses that comes with being as hot as Steve is and knowing it.

It’s some time later, enough that Eddie knows they won’t be able to stay much longer in the venue, that he finally has a chance to slip away. It’s perfect, he has just seen Steve leave the dressing room, probably in search of the toilet, and Gareth and the curly hair boy he has learned is called Dustin are so deep in conversation they don’t notice him stepping away from them and leaving too.

He catches Steve just as he is leaving the toilet. Eddie doesn’t stop to answer Steve’s surprised ‘oh, hey’ that turns into a more surprised ‘woah’ as Eddie pushes him back into the toilet and closes the door behind him.

“Hey” Eddie finally greets. Steve only looks at the closed door behind Eddie and then at him again with what Eddie hopes is amusement. God, he really hopes it’s amusement, he is just not realising how creepy this looks. “So, about that date.”

“Couldn’t wait until I came back?”

“No. I mean, yes.” Why is it so difficult to talk with a pretty boy? Eddie takes a deep breath, composes himself. Theatrics, he is good with those, they make him confident. “I was suffering, being deprived from your company by your companions, and didn’t have another option.”

Steve squints his eyes, “so you decided to have the date in the toilet?”

“What? No.”

Steve takes a step closer to Eddie so now their chests are almost touching. It hadn’t downed on Eddie before how they are almost the same height. It feels very important now when he has Steve’s face right in front of him, when he can look directly at his eyes, at how they drift down to Eddie’s lips. When his inevitably drift to Steve’s lips, the boy is biting his lower lip. “Eager.”

Eddie’s breath hitches in his throat, he may have miscalculated this. There’s something he wanted to say. “No, I-“

Steve chuckles, takes a step back. “Relax dude. I know you haven’t really agreed to the date yet, we got interrupted and all that.” Eddie is about to speak, to agree a thousand times to the date, but Steve keeps talking. “You just offered to buy me a couple of drinks and called me hot,” he smiles when he says that.

“I want the date.” Eddie says before Steve can keep talking, “as soon as possible.”

Steve steps back closer. “Eager.”

“We are leaving on tour, won’t be back for three months.” Eddie explains before all his brain functions completely shut down.

“I can wait three months.”

“I can’t.”

The next second Steve’s lips are on his, his hands are on his hair, and it only takes a second for Eddie’s to do the same. Steve is even a better kisser than he was in front of the audience. Steve pushes him against the door, brings a hand to his hip, pushes one of his legs between Eddie’s. Eddie just groans and lets himself be pushed and moved. Kissed. “Fuck,” he whispers when Steve pulls away for breath. Steve smiles, takes one of Eddie’s hands in his, and kisses him again. It’s so sweet and filthy at the same time Eddie might cry, but he just moves his hips forward, and Steve answers in kind, grinding against him and getting a groan out of both of them. Maybe the rockstars that hook up with people after concerts are onto something. Though Eddie doubts he would want to do this with someone that is not Steve.

A knock on the door startles them both, Robin’s voice coming from the other side.

“Steve?” Steve and Eddie stop kissing to look at each other in silence, their eyes wide. “Chrissy said we need to leave already and you’ve been in there so long I started to worry you were kidnapped. Wait, you are in there, right? Also, have you seen Eddie? He disappeared.” Steve moves, an innocent thing that has his groin brushing against Eddie’s. And he is only a man. He moans. “WAIT! Are you both in there? GROSS.”

Steve snorts, making Eddie smile. They can hear a couple of steps moving away from the door before they come back and there is a bang on the door.

“Steve! Come out you dingus, have you forgotten about your pack of kids?”

Steve lets out a whispered ‘fuck’ before he looks at Eddie with an apology in his eyes. Eddie lets himself be moved away from the door so Steve can open it to talk to his friend outside.

“Hey.”

Eddie opens the door more so he can also fit in the gap, Steve sends him a look, smiles at his appearance, and then looks at Robin again.

“Hey” Eddie greets too. Robin is looking at them and there is no hiding what they have been doing. She can surely see their bruised lips, their wild hair. Eddie just prays she doesn’t look down and sees the bulge in his pants.

“You two are gross, was making me see that once tonight not enough?”

“You have not really seen it this time,” Steve points.

“Still.”

“You are the one that came to interrupt.”

“And for a good reason! Your kids.”

“What about the kids,” Eddie asks.

“He promised to take them home.” Robin says.

“I promised to take them home.” Steve says at the same time, a resigned tone in his voice. He turns to Eddie, his brown eyes sad, and pinches his nose.

“Can’t she take them home?” Eddie points to Robin, and they both turn towards her again.

Robin takes a breath, stops, looks at them, looks at them, sees the tent in Eddie’s pants. Grimaces.

“FINE,” she agrees, and Eddie grins. “But you owe me. Big time.” She adds pointing at Steve.

“I’ll give you ice cream for life.” Steve says. It must be an inside joke because it makes Robin roll her eyes.

“Give me your car keys at least. Rockstar here can drive you home, can’t he?”

“I’ll have him home before eleven.” Eddie swears with a hand on his chest. The other two stare at him in silence. “A.m.” he adds.

“You heard him.” Steve says while handing Robin his keys.

“Okay,” Robin answers. She takes a step back. “Have fun.” She takes a couple of steps away before she turns around. “Use protection, he is a rockstar, we don’t know where his thing has been.”

“Hey,” Eddie protests, but Robin is already running away.

“She is kinda right.” Steve says with a shrug. Eddie purses his lips. “But I have an idea on where it can be in the near future.”

“Lead the way.”

Steve slips his hand into Eddie’s.

[papaya-twinks]

flip it back - l.n

Warnings: Angst, Fluff!

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

Summary: Y/N panics and makes a BIG mistake

A/N - Little project I did with @maxiemclaren, she’s doing the alternate with Oscar and I’m doing it with Lando, check hers out too xx

“Hey Y/N,” Oscar smiled at you, sitting beside you in his drivers room as you smiled at him. “Hey, how was media?” you asked, putting your phone down. “More rumours about us dating,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes. “Again? Do they ever get tired?” you snorted, you did like Oscar, just not as a boyfriend, simply a friend. “Do you even like anyone?” he laughed, turning to you as your cheeks filled with colour.

In truth, you had the biggest, stupidest crush on his teammate, Lando. Not that you’d ever even think Lando would want anything to do with you. “I-I do,” you said, Oscar could probably tell from your reaction to the question anyways. “Wait, really?” he said, eyes wide, “who?”. You opened your mouth, no sound coming out. “Promise you won’t snitch,” you pleaded as he firmly nodded. “Lando,” you said quietly, only to frown at Oscar’s smirk.

“Knew it,” he smirked, seeing your shock. “I’ve seen the way y’all talk. He definitely likes you back,” the Aussie said as you scoffed, “yeah right, have you seen him?”. You and Lando had a fairly decent friendship, you got on well and talked a lot. He messaged you a few times a day, if it was to send you reels, memes or just to chat. You didn’t mind, but he was surely just a celebrity crush.

“Hey Y/N,” a voice said, behind you, making you look up, seeing Lando. “Oscar, media need you again,” the Brit said, watching his team mate groan. “Sorry dude, it’s about the race,” he grimaced at Oscar. “Media making up shit with you and Oscar again,” Lando said, sitting down after Oscar left. “Yeah, they never get tired of it,” you rolled your eyes. “They’re pretty darn annoying,” Lando laughed, making you chuckle.

“D’you like Oscar?” he asked, turning to you. “As a friend,” you confirmed. “More than that? D’you like anyone, Y/N?” he asked, hands clasped together. Immediately, you flushed. You couldn’t tell him the truth, you’d die of embarrassment. “I…yeah, I, um, I like Oscar,” you said hurriedly, making him nod slowly. “Oh, right,” he nodded simply, “I see,”. You gulped. You’d just lied. “I’ll be off, Y/N,”.

Lando had changed. He no longer messaged you during the day, only sending simple things such as: ‘busy, practise’ or ‘busy, gym’. Why had he changed? Did he not like Oscar? You felt horrible for lying. But of course, the only way to remedy a lie was to tell the truth. You’d made a plan. You would bring Oscar and Lando to one place, and you’d tell them the truth.

And then you’d leave and probably never talk to Lando again. Rather that than him living and thinking you liked Oscar. So you texted them. Oscar, as usual, with his usual ‘alright y/n, I’ll see you then <3’ message. Lando - a simple acknowledgment in the form of a thumbs up emoji. “Hey you guys,” you smiled awkwardly at the pair of them. “Hey Y/N,” Oscar said brightly, much opposing to Lando’s, “hi,”.

You still didn’t realise why he sounded so…downbeat ever since the ordeal. But anyways, you had a matter at hand, and you intended to deal with it. Maybe savour it slightly, this was going to be the last moment you saw Lando and got to speak to him without dying of embarrassment. “So, I told you guys who I like,” you began. “Mhm, you told Oscar about your little crush on him?” Lando snorted. “Mate, what? What the hell you on about?” Oscar rolled his eyes.

“Dude, don’t give me that crap. She told me she liked you,” Lando raised an eyebrow. “Wait, listen,” you said, before Oscar could retaliate. “What?” Lando asked, frowning at Oscar, before turning to you. “I told Oscar I liked you,” you said quietly, not making eye contact with either of them as Lando’s jaw dropped. “You told my team mate you liked me, and told me you liked him?” Lando said, trying to wrap his mind round it.

“Yeah, I guess,” you shrugged, cheeks flushed. “Wait, so he thinks you like me?” Lando blinked, “yes,”. He paused. “And I think you like him,” he continued, “yes,”. He paused again. “Oh shut up, dude,” Oscar shoved his team mate lightly as he interrupted his third question. “Better question, which one of us do you actually like?” Oscar asked, squirting. “I mean, I-,” you started, not sure how you were gonna say it.

“I don’t wanna say it,” you said, hugging your body and looking down. “You gonna make us pull it out of you?” Lando asked, blinking down at you again. “I dunno,” you shrugged, cheeks red. “Oh Y/N,” Oscar shook his head, “we really have to interrogate it out of you?”. You didn’t like this, it made you uncomfortable, and soon you’d have to drop the bomb. “Is it actually either of us?” Lando asked, tapping his chin.

“Yes,” you nodded, looking up at him as he continued to think. “Does he have brown hair- ow!” Lando gasped as Oscar elbowed him. “I dunno, mate, I think he has blonde hair,” the Aussie said sarcastically, making you laugh. “That was a purposeful question, I wanted her to laugh,” Lando rubbed his ribs as you raised an eyebrow, he definitely wasn’t intending for you to laugh. “Is he ugly?” Lando continued. “What?” you gasped, neither of them were ugly.

“If it’s a yes, sheesh, good luck with Oscar, girl,” Lando said, narrowly dodging another jab in the ribs. “C’mon Y/N, be straight with it,” the Aussie said. “It’s not me, I know that,” Oscar scoffed. “It’s Lando, and you want to say it, I can tell,” he said, pulling your hands from your face. “Wait, what?” Lando asked, eyes wide, “you like me?”. You turned to him, “yes, I know, it’s embarrassing you’re probably horrified and I-,” he cut you off.

“No fucking way. Y/N, you like me?” he repeated, he was so gonna laugh at you. “I…yes?” you shrugged. “You’re having a laugh. Nuh uh, you’re having a giggle,” he backed away, this was worse than you had pictured. “Y/N Y/L/N, you like me back?!” he said, his lips forming into a smile as your eyes widened. “Back? You like me too?” you asked, a smile on your lips too.

“Fuck yeah, have you seen you?” his hand covered his mouth as Oscar snorted. “Right, well whilst you two flirt the fuck out of each other,” Oscar said, “I’m gonna mentally prepare myself for this,”. Lando raised an eyebrow at you, then Lando. “For what?” he blinked. “Lando, if you may follow me for the ‘if you hurt my best friend’ talk…” the Aussie trailed off, gripping Lando’s shoulder as he gulped. “So long Y/N,” Lando grimaced as you burst into laughter.

[lexirosewrites]

This is for Slick Sunday!!!

So. I was watching this voice over of some random Tumblr post about how Vampires are to carpenters what furries are for artists(allegedly), bc they can make the ideal coffin for each individual and things like that, and like??? I got inspired. So this is what I have:

Totally established ABO situation, where Steve is an unusual Omega, simply for the fact that after his family disowned him he became a carpenter and if being a jock had given him some muscles, being a carpenter made him ripped.

But no one wants an Omega like that, no matter how sweet he is whether in scent or personality, it also doesn't help that Steve has a shit taste in Alphas.

Anyways, enter Eddie, a Vampire (whether he has a designation and/or what it is up in the air (although I prefer him as an Alpha)) who's looking for a new coffin for his Uncle Wayne, an incredibly old vampire (probably a beta) who met him when he was young and adopted Eddie before turning him at the age of 25 (Eddie was dying, and there wasn't a cure for him yet, but that was Wayne's kid, he couldn't let him die so young), because his Uncle's coffin is like, old, Eddie asked and the thing is a certified antique, it's at least a 100 years old and almost falling apart no matter how much care Wayne puts into it.

So Eddie finds out about this carpenter, the guy has never worked for vampires before, but Robin (a local witch and another Omega) recommended him so strongly Eddie agreed to check him out.

Eddie gets immediately infatuated with Steve, the guy is handsome, with a sweet personality, and a body Eddie just wants to sink his teeth into...

So they get talking about the request, and it ends up being a long collaboration, since Eddie didn't actually go prepared for the appointment, so he keeps visiting Steve to make adjustments to the coffin's design and stuff like that.

And if he also uses that time to get to know Steve better and maybe flirt a little? It's nobody's business.

(and maybe Steve also answers sometimes, with

So anyways, Steve finishes the task and is sad he won't see Eddie again, won't get to bask into his amazingly comforting scent again, thinking that the guy probably will leave him behind like so many other commissioners before him who came by, sweet talked him, that even got him into bed one time, and then left once their product was finished, only to never return.

So When Eddie comes to pick up the finished coffin he finds an incredibly sad Omega , and of course he immediately asks what's wrong, does Steve feel bad, should he call Robin? But Steve is so overwhelmed by this simple show of care that he confesses on the spot.

And Eddie is obviously overjoyed by this, corresponding to Steve in that exact moment, zero doubts in his mind that he'll be with Steve for as long as Steve wants him.

Plus: Steve finds out a week into dating that Eddie is a vampire and is very offended that his boyfriend (soon to be mate) tried to hide something so important from him, meanwhile Eddie is like "Babe. Baby. Sweetheart. I literally asked for a bed coffin, I told you my uncle was more than a hundred years old, I once got into your workshop fully bloodstained, fangs out, because I was running late and my last feeding was rough"

"I thought that was paint from those minis you told me you were working on!"

And then they recreate the twilight meme for the funsies.

(and maybe a long time from now they'll be mates, and Steve will turn into a vampire after being Eddie's part-time bloodbag for years, and they'll have a coven full of kids, some theirs, some adopted, but all of them wholly loved and cherished)

And that's all I have in me rn, I really hope you enjoy Lexi, happy day!

(also, fun fact, halfway through writing this I got so distracted by the romance that I forgot about the ABO part of things, and then I tried to revise it, but I'm not sure I did a good job, this could probably be way more abo than it is, lmaoo)

hehe monsterfucker steve is very dear to me, especially when he’s an omega and willing to submit to an alpha as their prey in more way than one💕

[hsyvers]

WHATCHA GOT THERE? - nakamura kazuha x 6th member!f!reader

SYPNOSIS; you and your girlfriend love cats. and you always joked about getting one. but what happens when you smuggle one back home without her knowledge?

NOTES; this is insanely fluffy...kazuha with cats...giggling and kicking my feet AGH this was actually self-indulgent. based after the icarly "whatcha got there?" "..a smoothie" meme ^_^ also slight reference to that one leniverse ep at the end LMAOOO let's ignore the fact that kazuha is a dog person ok....

you bite your lip when you slowly open the door to yours and kazuha's room, hoping that she isn't there. the small creature in your rain jacket purrs in fond response to your body heat.

you whisper softly to it before you open the door, looking down at your jacket, "shh, you're gonna have to be as quiet as possible, okay? i still don't know if she'll let me keep you or not."

opening the door fully and peeking in, you sneakily step into her room, sighing inaudibly when you see her sleeping form on the bed.

then, all of a sudden, "baby?" a soft voice calls you closer, before you realise you're actively trying to hide something. you quickly take a step back, just in case.

kazuha sits up in bed groggily, rubbing at her eyes, a grin on her face now as she tilts her head, "whatcha got there?"

oh god. curse the fact that she obviously had basic comprehesion and observation skills.

you look down at your coat, that had a small, offputing bump in the middle, "uh, a smoothie?

"what?"

"what?"

kazuha stares at you, confused, though her usual smile still graces her lips as she opens her arms in a hugging gesture. you approach her but you don't accept the hug, making her pout.

"are you okay?"

"me? oh, of course. i'm super fine actually."

"...you're rambling," she mumbles, sneaking another glance to your jacket, "you do that when you're hiding something."

"n-no, i don't," you protest.

"and you stutter whenever you lie," kazuha points out again, "baby, what's wrong?"

"meow."

kazuha's eyebrows furrow.

you facepalm.

kazuha carefully leans her ear closer to your jacket.

"meow?"

her face leans back with a half knowing and half concerned expression.

"baby, why is your jacket meowing?!"

her slightly bewildered tone causes you to bite the inside of your cheek nervously, "promise you won't get mad?"

kazuha's gaze softens even more so as she shakes her head, "since when would i ever be able to stay mad at you?"

"okay, so like," you open your raincoat and your girlfriend gasps when she sees a small black kitten in your hands, "wait, let me explain."

"i was on the way back and it was raining so heavily and i heard meows and you know how much i love cats. so i ran to the source of the sound and the poor thing was wet and hungry so i ran to the nearest convenience store and that's why i'm back so late then i dried her up before coming in and she loves my body heat and it's so cute but-!"

"baby," kazuha whispers, patting her lap, "come here, and breathe, okay?"

you take a deep breath before sitting on her lap, and feeling her arms link around your stomach from behind gives you a sense of comfort immediately.

kazuha seems to realise that you're processing your words still, so she uses her fingers to pet the kitten in your hands. you giggle when the kitten purrs even harder, bumping its head against her hand. then, she presses a kiss to your cheek and lays her head on your back, "are you okay?"

"mhm, thanks," you sigh, nodding, "anyway, i was scared you'll turn her away...and that chaewon will freak out about her."

kazuha hums in acknowledgement of your worries, "don't worry, i already love her."

that sentence makes all the tension in your body dissipate and she feels you melt in her arms, a soft chuckle escaping her lips.

"did anyone else see you come in with her?"

"oh my god, what is that," eunchae mumbles, poking at your stomach only to jump back with wide eyes when she hears a small meow, "why is there a cat IN your stomach?"

"she's not inside, what?" you stiffle a laugh with your hand, shaking your head at her words, "and as for you, why are you awake at 1 am?"

eunchae's mouth opens, then it closes. she thinks for a second before whispering, "i won't tell chaewon about it if you don't tell on me."

"deal," you roll your eyes when she points two fingers to her eyes and then back to you in a "i'm watching you" motion.

"well..? just eunchae...don't worry about it."

"and you do know we will have to tell chaewon sooner or later, right?"

"yeah," you sigh, holding your kitten closer at the thought. kazuha squeezes your hand then pet the cat's head, as though to imply that she won't let anything happen to either of you.

"okay! one more question."

"anything," you say, and you mean it, turning your face to look at her as she pretends to be deep in thought.

"can we name it eric?"

"no, zuha, we are not naming her eric."

[deadghosy]

Vlogger! Mattheo x Editor! Reader pt.1/pt.2

You woke up, it’s been 5 months since you started dating the guy you worked for. And honestly it wasn’t bad.

He was rich, kind, a very good listener, and a good boyfriend. He had told you his past when he use to fight kids when he was younger. He even demonstrated which knuckles were split during fights. You kinda found it attractive as you chuckled.

Despite his crackhead energy, he’s a lovable guy that loves to make you smile.

He always announces on his vlogs that you are his hot editor he bought off of eBay. Which was funny as hell to you and him. Many of his fans even started to like you as well. You were very handsome/beautiful. Some can’t decide to envy mattheo or you.

Mattheo then started to go on twitch which you found usual, most influencers go on twitch anyways. You don’t appear much on his streams as you are usual editing. But sometimes you go in there to check up on him.

It was a regular night, you were in mattheo’s room where he was streaming random shit. Literally, his twitch title said “random tingz.” You had joined only for a little only for it to turn for 2 hours as you guys just chatted with the stream watchers. Mattheo thee in a little flirty jokes here and there as you try to brush them off. You two haven’t told his platform that you two are dating. Worried about what they would think of course.

Mattheo kept staring at you which earned a lot of attention on it. “Awww I wish someone looked at me like mattheo looks at Y/N..” a person said, then another said “girl keep dreaming @bigballsofmattheo” you laughed at the usernames and the chatting. They all seemed like funny people. That’s when someone gifted subs.

“@Mattheosslut, thank you for the 100 gifted.” You read as Mattheo was typing something. Mattheo then looked at chat with squinted eyes. “Slut? Well that’s funny because ima slut for—” immediately you cover his mouth with a smile. “Okay! Enough of that.” Mattheo laughed as he held your hand that wasn’t in frame of the face cam. You and Mattheo started to play duo games, you two started off with fireboy and watergirl.

“Mattheo get the damn green gem!” You yelled smacking his arm. “What you think I’m trying to get babe!?” He yells nudging you. You rolled your eyes with a scoff, “just lose the attitude pretty boy.” For a second you thought you could see him freeze for a second before getting the gem and quickly getting to the door. “There..happy now.” He says eyeing you. You nodded.

“Omg they’re so cute tg!” “Are they dating???” “Y/N is so pretty/handsome!!” “Mattheo really is love gazing his editor again.” “Quick! Someone make an edit!!” The chat was going crazy as you yawned, telling mattheo you were going to bed. “Ight night gorgeous.” He says softly, and when the chat and him heard the soft click of the door closing. Immediately mattheo started to spaz out as he faced the camera.

“Pretty boy?! Am I really that pretty…oh what the fuck am I saying. Of course I’m pretty.” He said with a smug look as he started to make his stream watch random ass memes. “I’m their pretty boy…” he mumbled to himself as he just leans back and watches the video with his chat.

He’s your pretty boy…

[yuri-is-online]

Jade narrating the stuff Yuu is doing sounds funny/cute.

Dear annon, objectively you are correct. Jade narrating things sounds funny and cute in general. Unfortunately I have a cold and just took some nyquil ヽ(・∀・)ﾉ Whoops.

notes:they/them used for Yuu, this is a joke tm inspired by this meme. Please do not take this seriously and look at my masterlist for something not written on drugs.

"The humble shrimp, according to all known laws of hydrodynamics should not be able to swim. Their little legs are much too small to propel them through the ocean." Jade does not say this out loud, instead he continues to prop his head up on his hand and observe the Lounge's newest employee slaving away over the stove, signature reserved smile on his face. "The shrimp of course, swims anyway, because the shrimp does not care about what mages think is impossible."

Not that you are cooking for the lounge (yet) Jade had just invited you over for a little... he had said it was to study. What you had no idea, your patience maybe? He certainly hasn't moved since inviting you to help yourself to the Octavinelle kitchen saying something about how "humans have such interesting uses for leftovers."

"Bullshit." You think, punctuating the curse with a particularly harsh scrape to the pan. "He just didn't want to cook his dinner tonight."

"Imagine if you will, a pan of rice." Jade is idly toying with a spoon, swapping between waving it like a conductor or holding it still to speak into it like an announcer. "Truly a blessing to the hungry masses, a staple food if you will."

"Oh please no." You are tempted to spit in his plate but he would just put an unnecessary type of emphasis on thanking you for the food.

"It is presented to you fried," Jade continues, clearly deeply amused with himself "but this time, it has not been fried by a trustworthy fellow human-"

"You are an eel." You decide to settle your need to be petty by giving him the smaller fork, which does get you a regretful sigh but does not stop Jade's recapping the last episode of Twisted Wonderland.

"But by a shrimp." Jade loves it when you cook for him, not that he really wants to admit to that out loud lest you stop. Or huff and puff in embarrassment, he wants to save that for much later. Sometime when you are back in the Coral Sea and tucked neatly against his chest, safe and very much completely his and not able to run away. "The humble shrimp is proud of it's cooking."

"I am not an it, I am your partner." You are not exactly mad, you are proud of your cooking. And proud that, just like he does for his brother, he will eat all of it and then find something to complain about with a big smile on his face. Jade once again twirls his conductor's spoon, with a hum that sounds sort of like an agreement.

"The shrimp is very proud of their cooking," he amends "and the eel is very happy they want to share with him." You push your food around your plate in embarrassment much to his delight. He can't resist pushing you just a bit further, getting up as if to make for a cup but pausing to kiss your cheek before setting his kettle on the stove so it's ready to repay your favor once dinner is done. "Do be gentle with me," says the eel, heart beating horrifically hard against his chest "I am much more fragile than I look." He very much does not expect to see you darting up to kiss his lips when he turns back from the stove, the shrimp darts away with a smug giggle as the eel stands stunned, savoring the warmth of their affection before he returns to his seat.

Yes, the eel thinks he is keeping this one. Forever, ideally.

[abstractnaturaldisaster]

is it over now? (was it over then?)

part five

part six: with the wilt of the rose

With the success of Eddie's Steve single as his bandmates had started to call it, the label had basically told Corroded Coffin in no uncertain terms to channel that energy into the rest of their album. It wasn't that Eddie didn't like the attention his song was getting and Steve absolutely deserved it, the lying piece of shit, but it was like getting permission to write angsty music about Steve took all the fun out of it. He was fully out of inspiration of the angst variety and had taken a hard left turn into moping, feeling sorry for himself, and being one thousand percent convinced that he was going to be single for the rest of his life and die alone.

Eddie was reclining in his giant beanbag chair (his nest as Steve used to joke with him), occasionally humming lines, strumming on his guitar, and writing more and more pathetically dramatic lyrics for most of the day until he reached his limit and pulled out his phone. It wasn't like Eddie was purposefully keeping track of people in Steve's life but over the time they were together his little gaggle of gremlins wormed his way into Eddie's life too. Unfortunately when he opened his phone it was to tweets of Dustin going low key feral over Steve's new role in some indie biopic but at the same time being crazy upset that Steve would be incommunicado as Dustin so helpfully added in his tweet. The kid was such a dweeb. Eddie flicked out of twitter and opened instagram hoping that his feed would be mostly possum memes. He scrolled idly for a while seeing new tattoo ideas and of course many cute furry animals doing many silly things until suddenly he was reminded of a particular face Steve made and Eddie (although he would never admit this) searched for Steve's public profile only a little disappointed that he hadn't posted anything more recent than when the two were together.

Because Eddie may or may not be a massive masochist and can't leave well enough alone, he decides to tab over to Steve's tagged pictures to see if there is anything recent. In between several tags of Steve being unfairly good looking in whatever movie he was currently filming, Eddie was taken aback by a post that was just of Robin and Nancy. They looked a little closer than just gal pals or whatever it was the tabloids called them while speculating how they could be friends while "fighting" over Steve. So much for modern feminism.

Before Eddie got distracted enough to go through a full rant that might include a fairly long section about how Ronnie was treated differently than the rest of his bandmates, Eddie focused back on the issue at hand. Why was Nancy who he highly suspected of stealing his fucking boyfriend posing like she was getting engaged to Steve's best friend. And why did they fucking tag him it it? Robin was snarky sure but she didn't seem like that level of bitch. Eddie took a deep breath and opened the fairly lengthy caption to see:

nancywheeler Hello World! It's been a long time coming but I am so excited to publicly announce that me and Robin (@buckster) are going steady. I know I don't post a whole lot about my person life on here (seriously, the rest of the world is so much more exciting) but you've always been so supportive of my coming out and sexuality related posts as well as understanding when I needed to set a boundary between my personal life and my online persona. I've been unable to share my most recent relationship for a really long time because of the public pressure of coming out and being a "marketable asset." Steve (@sharrington) could not have been a better support during this time and took a lot of public flak to keep Robin and I safe and comfortable until we were ready to be out publicly. He always offered up his home while I was visiting and kept me company while Robin was working. I guess us bi guys have to stick together, huh? Anyways, that's all for now. And no, we aren't engaged (yet 😈)

Eddie was floored. He had spent all his time since leaving Steve's apartment feeling very holier than thou and smug about everything that happened with Steve and the success his band was experience because of it. Although if one Miss Nancy Wheeler was telling the truth (which like as a journalist Eddie thinks she has to), Steve was actually helping his platonic soulmate find love with his exgirlfriend. If Eddie hadn't already felt kind of shitty for assuming the worst about Steve, this had to take the fucking cake. Eddie was truly done for. Put a fork in him. He's the worst person ever. Fuck. He needed reinforcements.

devilededs: uhm hi friends, i think maybe i am the asshole in the whole steve situation can u come to mine?

ronnie: you saw it? i can finally give you shit about being a total drama queen?

devilededs: what do you mean? why would you not tell me if you knew it existed.

ronnie: precisely because of this vibe right now.

devilededs: okay, everyone but ronnie pls come over i need snacks and maybe some really b grade horror but you have to indulge me in my sadness.

garbear: already on the way with your emotional support jeff and frank. we'll pick up snacks.

ronnie: if you let me problem solve for you can i come for snacks? i don't think i can handle moping eddie without trying to show you its very fixable.

devilededs: YES! FIX! ME! HOW! GET OVER HERE!

Eddie flopped back into the beanbag chair and let his notebook flop out of his lap. Thankfully his friends all had keys so he could continue to rot in place until Ronnie forcibly withdrew him from his hovel.

part seven

@lololol-1234 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @zombiethingy @grtwdsmwhr @dreamercec @anne-bennett-cosplayer @strawberryyyenthusiast @mensch-anthropos-human @kal-ology @ttyrussss @kristmkris @starman-jpg @wonderland-girl143-blog @child-of-cthulhu @legalmenace87 @adealwithher @practicallybegging @lunaraquaenby @stripey82 @lexyvey @goodolefashionedloverboi @mothmamhasyourlocation @mugloversonly (if you wanna be tagged in future parts feel free to comment! happy to add people)

[lunarmoves]

there was a new security guard working in the daycare. 

you’d been wondering when the higher ups at fazbear entertainment would green light the hiring process for one, and apparently it was sooner than you’d thought. you weren’t a particularly important employee, so it made sense why you wouldn’t have been told, but it was still surprising nonetheless. you didn’t remember the last time the security desk in the daycare had been occupied by someone other than yourself when you were taking your lunch break. granted, you hadn’t been working at the pizzaplex for too long, but you’d seen the records, and the strange disappearance of the last guard was something you were never able to dredge up too much information about. 

you met him on one of your lunch breaks actually, while you were contemplating which fast food restaurant to use your free meal on. you think he started up a conversation because you were likely one of the only human staff members he’d seen since getting hired. not that you could blame him, of course. lord knows the last time you'd spoken to someone not made of metal and wires.

“so many options to pick from, eh?” a voice said from your left and you turned to see the new guard standing there with his hands tucked into his pockets. the cap that came with his uniform was nestled atop his head of curly hair and cast his face in shadow from the neon lights overhead. you could just barely make out the glint of his black eyes. “this place really doesn't disappoint.”

you snorted at his words. fazco was many things, but a disappointment wasn't one of them. "you're telling me. the prices on the other hand..." you made a face and he laughed before sticking out his hand.

"name's vincent," he introduced himself with a bright, charming smile. "'m the new daycare guard." the badge pinned to the left side of his chest was decorated with little stars and winked brightly at you in the lighting.

you grabbed his hand with your own for a firm handshake and introduced yourself as well. "i do repairs around the pizzaplex and the like. places the bots can't get to, occasionally minor repairs on the animatronics themselves." the ones that didn't warrant an entire trip down to parts 'n services, at least.

"nice, i bet you're never out of work, huh?" you shook your head with a lopsided smile. vincent opened his mouth as though to say something else, then seemed to pause and instead looked around the food atrium. "anyways, you got any recommendations? i got an hour for a lunch break and i'm starving."

vincent proved to be excellent company as he joined you for your lunch break. you didn't mind, honestly. it was refreshing to be able to talk to another human—someone whom you didn't have to strain your neck to look up to or whom you could connect to on a level you couldn't with robots and automatons. he was hilarious and charming, with a plethora of stories he regaled you with of his life before he was hired at the pizzaplex. and before you knew it, your time for your lunch break was up and you were saying your goodbyes to vincent as you both made your way back to your respective jobs. your heart felt lighter in a way it hadn't been in a long time.

the process repeated.

vincent joined you for your lunch breaks whenever he managed to catch you in the atrium. it wasn't too often, as your schedule was rather erratic, but he could take his lunch break whenever he wanted. so you eventually just swapped numbers so you could text and meet up instead of basing it off of chance. and your friendship skyrocketed from there with the endless memes you'd send to each other both on shift and off—the late night conversations you'd have about things that varied from miscellaneous to more serious (fazco's history being one of them). it felt inevitable, getting closer.

you had such a good time with him that you didn't even realize how long it'd been since you'd last stepped foot in the daycare.

that is—until you got called in for a repair on the daycare attendant.

the email had been sent straight to your phone. an emergency repair, by the sound of it. you hadn't ever had to do one on sun nor moon. usually it was monty or chica. concern tainted your conscience as you made your way over to the daycare and slipped through the giant castle doors.

immediately, you were spotted by vincent, who waved and jogged over from the far side of the security desk. "hey! that was fast."

"yeah, i was close by," you puffed out, your eyes searching around the daycare for sun. it was later in the evening—nearing closing, in fact—so there luckily weren't many kids around. only a handful, you noted as you spotted them sitting around the playmats, coloring or playing with little hand puppets together. your gaze trailed over to a corner by the security desk, where sun was perched atop one of the large foam blocks with his legs crossed. swaying slightly in place as he kept an eye on the kids in the distance. well, at least he looked fine from here. couldn't be all too bad, then, you thought in relief.

"what happened?" you asked vincent as you made your way towards sun, your hand gripping onto a toolbox you'd snagged earlier from parts 'n services.

"i don't know," he replied in earnest, a frown decorating his face. "i went for a bathroom break and when i got back he wa—"

before he could finish, however, you were spotted by sun, who shot straight up from the foam block and beamed with all the light of a thousand stars at your approaching figure.

"friend!!" he exclaimed and closed the short distance between the two of you to sweep you up in a bone-crushing hug. you let out a surprised laugh, holding onto him for dear life as his torso spun around and around and around in tandem with his rays. "you're here! oh we missed you so so so much!"

"hey bud, missed you too," you wheezed and patted him on the back. his robotic strength was unyielding and you did your best to endure. he nuzzled at the side of your face and eventually set you down. a hand was placed on your shoulder, fingers running adoringly over your uniform.

"dropped this," vincent's voice piped up from behind you and those fingers abruptly tightened. you glanced over your shoulder and turned to accept the toolbox from him as he held it out to you. his gaze flicked from you to sun, subtle. you hadn't even noticed you'd dropped it.

"thanks, man." you offered him a smile and grabbed onto the box's handle. "what were you sa—"

"mr. guard!" sun smoothly cut in, stepping in front of you to lean down over vincent. you couldn't see over the terse line of his back, so you poked your head around him to look at vincent and the dark shadow that'd been cast over his form. "please keep an eye on the children in the meantime. it looks like little jeremy's about to stick a crayon up his nose and we can't have that, nonono!"

vincent's frown deepened. he cast you a final look before he nodded shortly. you almost thought he was going to argue. "alright." and then he turned on his heel to make his way over to the kids. you watched him carefully—the rigid line of his shoulders—then jolted slightly when sun spun back around to face you with a bright grin.

you spoke up before he could. "what was that all about?"

"what was what all about?" he asked innocently, his hands clasped behind his back as he swayed side to side, further blocking your view of vincent. you gave him a look.

"you know exactly what i'm talking about," you said flatly and gestured at him to take a seat back on the foam block. he complied with a flourish, spinning on his feet to plop upon it. even sitting he wasn't much shorter than you.

he bobbed his head side to side as though he was contemplating. you set down your toolbox next to him and placed your hands on your waist, raising an eyebrow expectantly at him. he wavered, then let out an exaggerated sigh.

"it's just— the guards!" he tossed his head back dramatically, then leaned forward to stage whisper at you. "we never liked them, you know. and this one is..." he trailed off, eyes squinting as his smile thinned like the edge of a blade.

you rolled your eyes. you did, in fact, know of their distaste for the guards. it was why the daycare had gone so long without one. you couldn't really blame sun, you supposed. after all, they had been on their own for a long time and were more than capable. you weren't entirely sure what fazco was doing. maybe a parent complained.

"vincent's not too bad," you said and lowered your hands from your waist. sun tilted his head at you, gaze trained on your face. you clicked your tongue. "anyways, where's the injury? show me."

"riiiight here!" he brandished his hand at you—the one that you soon realized he'd been carefully keeping out of your sight all this time.

and for good reason, too. your jaw dropped at the way his hand hung off his wrist, held together by a few measly wires. "sun, what happened?!" you gasped as you jolted towards him and gingerly took hold of his hand. wires had snapped ruthlessly apart, splintered and shredded.

"oh, you know!" he waved his free hand, gaze still pinned onto you as you turned his hand this way and that, a crease forming between your brows. "just had a little oopsie, is all! doesn't hurt a bit!" and he spun his rays as though to show how unbothered he was.

you immediately let go of his hand and started fumbling for your toolbox to pull out supplies. you'd honestly prefer to have him get repaired down in parts 'n services for this, but knowing his adverseness to the place, there was no way you'd be able to.

"a little oopsie?" you asked incredulously. "this is a bit more than an oopsie, bud."

"ah, it's nothing our beloved repair tech can't fix!" he replied sweetly, gazing at you in a way that made something in your stomach flutter about. you grumbled and got to work, resolutely ignoring the heat creeping up your neck.

as you diligently worked on cutting and splicing the remaining wires together after turning off the electricity being routed to his hand, sun hummed happily to himself. "so!" he piped up after a moment of you concentrating heavily on his injury. "where have you been all this time, hm?"

you shrugged slightly, eyes firmly fixed to two wires you were splicing. the way they had torn was a bit... strange. like they'd been ripped or stretched apart until they tore. "been busy running around doing repairs, the usual."

"repairs, huh?" he mused, something to his voice that you couldn't quite decipher. "surely you are not working even during your lunch break? it is important to get your rest, friend!"

"i'm not, don't worry," you soothed, glancing up at him. "i've just been eating in the atrium lately. no biggie. sorry i haven't been by, i guess it... slipped my mind." you winced slightly at your words. truly, it had not occurred to you with how your breaks had been filled with hanging with vincent.

this close, you could see the offset white of his ringed pupils, roving over your body and drinking you in like he was a man starved. "i see. you would not happen to be spending it with ah, the guard over there, would you?"

you scrunched your nose at him. "why does it matter if i was?"

"no reason!" he grinned, but there was a tautness lining the edges of his smile that you did not quite like. his gaze flicked briefly over your shoulder, then back to you where his eyes upturned into crescents. "we're just happy to see you again! do make time for us too, yes?" his voice softened and lowered to a murmur. "the daycare isn't the same when you're not here with us."

now that just made you feel guilty. you swallowed it down as best as you could and gave him a small smile. "sorry," you repeated again gently. "i will."

it didn't take much longer to fix up his hand, and before you knew it, he was bouncing to his feet and flexing it every which way to show off its replenished dexterity. "good as new! thank you, my friend!" he scooped you up into another hug and you laughed, dizzy on his excitement.

"yeah, yeah. no more oopsies from now on, okay?" you chided him with a wagging finger once he'd placed you gently back upon the ground. he fixed your rumpled shirt for you, smoothing it down with large fingers. "i forbid it!"

"no promises!" he replied, booping you on the nose before clasping his hands together behind his back.

you packed up your tools and glanced down at your phone to check the time. almost closing. you should head out soon. you glanced over to vincent to see that most of the children had been checked out while you'd tended to sun. the last one was dozing on a playmat as vincent sat nearby, scrolling idly on his phone.

"alright, i need to go," you told sun as you started walking over to the looming castle doors. he followed you like a particularly lithe shadow. "got an early morning tomorrow."

"get some rest, friend!" he said, but you weren't paying attention to him anymore. vincent had caught your eye and quietly got up from his seat to jog over and meet you by the doors.

"all good?" he asked you once he'd come to a stop by your side, his hands buried in his pockets. you nodded and his gaze flicked to sun over your shoulder. he pointed over to the last kid snoring away. "you wanna look after the tyke now? my shift's over."

sun's eyes creased together as he smiled stiffly. one of his rays twitched. "of course! i will see you... tomorrow."

"yep. bye." succinct and terse, vincent gave sun a two-fingered salute then jerked his head at you before he pushed open the doors and left. you eyed vincent's retreating back first, then sun.

this was so weird. you exhaled through your nose and held onto your toolbox tightly. "...bye sun. see you tomorrow, promise."

"i will hold you to that!" was his merry response, and he waved at you with a grin as you left the daycare. white pupils followed you out, the door closing slowly behind you as something unsaid lingered in the air. you gave the doors a final look, then turned towards vincent, who was waiting for you a few feet away.

you considered bringing up all of... that—and boy was the last hour a lot to unpack—but a quick glance at the bags under vincent's eyes had you dropping it. later, you'll ask later.

you walked over to him. "hey, thanks for calling the repair in," you said as you both made your way up the stairs. "sun hates parts 'n services, it would've been a nightmare calling a mechanic to bring him down."

vincent gave you an odd look, one of his eyebrows raising. "what are you talking about?" he asked slowly, confused. "i didn't call it in. i told you i had been in the bathroom?"

he had said that, hadn't he. "oh." you thought he'd called it once he got back, but you guessed you were wrong. "and you really didn't see what'd happened?"

"nope." he took off his cap and ran his hand through his hair before setting it back on his head. "i don't have a single clue."

you hummed, glancing over your shoulder at the daycare as you both walked past the party rooms on the upper level. through the glass and netting, you could see sun, standing by one of the playpens. watching you and vincent with white eyes that gleamed even through the fluorescent lighting.

you suppressed a shiver and turned away, a burning gaze following you until you disappeared beyond a point where it no longer could.

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