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goodlucktai · 1 month

Note

What if I said 10 & 20 as portal duo thanks so much

dialogue prompts

10. “I don’t care. I’m not leaving you.”

+ 20. “Get away! You’re hurting them!”

for my beloved meeks

They weren’t supposed to be here. It’s stupid, but it’s the first thing that springs to Mikey’s mind.

Leo had only recently graduated with honors from those initial grueling physical therapy sessions that usually ended in tears (not always Leo’s) to daily exercises that got easier and easier until he was breezing through them the way he used to breeze through everything.

If he went farther than two steps away from his arm crutches Donnie appeared out of thin air looking ready to breathe fire at him, and Raph was in the habit now of holding Leo out at arm’s length immediately after every hug in the manner of scruffing an unruly kitten to double-check he was wearing his leg brace and compression sleeve, and Mikey had learned the hard way what everyone meant when they said medics make the absolute worst patients.

But for the most part Leo was doing really good! He was hitting all his marks and only driving everyone a tiny bit insane—well within the allotted Leo amount!

So when he had smiled that crooked, conspiring smile at Mikey the minute the coast was clear and said, “There’s no better strengthening exercise then sneaking out with my favorite little brother for a past-due victory smoothie,” what was Mikey supposed to tell him? No??

It did occur to him, a tiny little guilty whisper. Leo was healing. He’d been so badly hurt. Even Splinter, who spoiled Leonardo rotten, hadn’t given into the slider’s constant pleas to rush the recovery process along. They were going by the book. Literally, since Donatello had stepped up as team medic in the interim. Don and Raph and April and even Casey were all very good at not bending an inch no matter how many tragic looks got sent their way. Mikey wasn’t very good at that at all.

And anyway, joy had drowned out that whisper with a shout. He lit up with it, that newly-discovered supernova inside him curling up like a happy cat in a patch of sunshine. There’s a very big part of him that will always be what it’s always been, no matter how old he gets, or how powerful his mystic arts become—he’ll always be Michelangelo, and Michelangelo will follow Leonardo absolutely anywhere.

So he said, “I’ll get my hoodie!” and darted out the door with zero ninja stealth, clipping his shoulder on the frame and almost crashing into the table in the hall. Leo laughed behind him, and the unrestrained sound made Mikey feel like he could float. Maybe he actually did for a second or two.

He’ll never forget those horrible minutes after the portal closed, after Leo’s comms went dead, when he had wondered if he would ever hear his brother’s voice again. When he wondered what, exactly, his last words to Leo had been—they almost certainly weren’t I love you or please don’t leave so they didn’t count.

To make up for it, he wanted to tell Leo everything every chance he got. He wanted to make him laugh all the time. He wanted to crowd into the little twin-size infirmary bed to watch movies or do art projects that got glitter everywhere. He wanted to sneak out for smoothies even though it would get them in big trouble, because that was literally why he helped save the world in the first place.

And now he’s standing in a dim sidestreet, an orange streetlight buzzing dully above him, two smoothies melting in his hands. It’s their usual shortcut home, through a bunch of foreclosed apartment buildings and a dead end road. Leonardo is in front of him, shoulders stiff, ninpo humming weakly beneath his skin like a tired little beetle that shouldn’t be up from hibernation just yet.

Across the road are half a dozen humans in what looks like riot gear labeled TCRI and a man in a black suit. The man somehow looks more dangerous than the people in police armor.

“Leo,” Mikey says in a small voice. His brother doesn’t answer, but he does shift his weight to put Mikey more firmly behind him, which is answer enough.

And Mikey thinks, We weren’t supposed to be here. No one knows where we are.

The man in the suit starts talking into the bulky earpiece he’s wearing, but Mikey can’t make out what he’s saying over the buzzing of the streetlamp and the pounding of his own heart in his ears. All he hears is Leonardo murmur, “Mikey, go.”

“No,” Mikey’s mouth says automatically. It doesn’t even need any input from his brain to say it. Because no.

“Mike,” Leo says, in his best leader voice. But his tone is urgent in a way that borders on being scared so closely it must mean he’s actually terrified, or he would never have let Mikey hear even a hint of it. “I’d go with you if I could. I’m sorry I can’t.”

His hands tighten on his crutches. He can’t run. He’s still healing. He should be at home, doing his exercises with those little pink dumbbells in the warmth and safety of the lair, complaining the whole time in between tossing out ideas for dinner.

Mikey should have said no to sneaking out the way Donnie and Raphie would have instantly said no. He should be better at taking care of Leo the way he needs to be taken care of, the way everyone else does so easily.

The armored people start to shift to the side, moving around Mikey and Leo in a wide formation, hands on the guns holstered at their waists. Containing them. The man in the suit is still talking, face inscrutable behind the tinted glasses he’s wearing, but his face hasn’t twitched away from their direction even once.

“Hey,” Leo says, bringing Mikey’s attention back. “Don’t look at them, look at me.”

He’s smiling over his shoulder like it’s any other back-alley brawl with the mutant of the week or a handful of those Foot soldiers who never know when to quit, and not a horrible high-stakes situation in which Mikey stands to lose one of the most important things in the entire world if he makes the wrong move.

“Just get home and get the guys, okay? Then come right back for me. You can outrun these goons without breaking a sweat. You can do anything.”

Mikey drops the smoothies and the cold wet soaks through one of his sneakers instantly but he needs his hands free so he can clutch the back of Leo’s stupid hoodie. He needs to hold on tight and make sure whoever tries to take his brother away knows exactly what kind of knock-down drag-out fight they’re in for.

“I don’t care,” Mikey says, too loud in the stillness. “I’m not leaving you.”

He wishes he were a snapper like Raphie. If he was big and strong and had a shell that was as good as bulletproof armor, he’d scoop Leonardo up and shield him from the guns and run them both away.

If he was a genius like Donnie, he’d have one or a dozen gadgets on his person that would have saved them.

But he’s just Mikey, who isn’t big and strong, who isn’t a genius, who isn’t one of the people Leonardo is willing to step down and be weak in front of and depend on. Just Mikey, who Leo saved all his best jokes for during painful rehab, like it mattered to him that Mikey didn’t see him struggle. Just Mikey, who Leo always lifts both arms for the second he sees him coming and squishes into the world’s best hug, even if he’s pissed off at everybody else. Just Mikey, who Leo wants to get better for, be the best for, be one of the constant things on this planet Mikey never needs to doubt, like gravity and sunrise and overpriced street food.

Because there’s a very big part of him that will always be what it’s always been, no matter how mature he gets, or how accomplished a ninja master he becomes—he’ll always be Leonardo, and Leonardo would do anything to make sure Michelangelo keeps smiling.

Leo is also very stupid, because he doesn’t seem to understand that Mikey will never smile again if his big brother goes away.

When the TCRI agents explode forward at some signal Mikey missed, and grab the brothers and drag them apart, Leo stumbles and falls when his crutches are wrenched away. He’d probably be making a smart-ass comment if his jaw wasn’t clenched, the sudden fall probably radiating pain all the way up his spine, distress making his gold eyes burn neon yellow.

Like a flip was switched, all the panic inside of Mikey evaporates into a red-tinged mist.

The supernova inside him sleeps most of the time, because he’s not big enough to contain its multitudes yet, and it doesn’t want to cause pain. It only wants to shine light in dark places, it only wants to help. But it wakes up with a fury and fills every inch of him to the brim and the overflow spills right out of him, lifts him right off the ground, makes his voice a resounding thunderclap when he yells, “GET AWAY! You’re hurting him!”

Staggering back and shouting in alarm, the agents begin firing, because humans in a panic are trigger-happy creatures, even well-trained ones like these guys must be. Every round fired disintegrates the second it meets the glow pouring out of Mikey, disappearing before it can do harm.

“Holy shit,” Leo says, eyes wide. It’s the way Mikey imagines he probably looked at Leo, when everyone else feared Raphael was a lost cause but Leo put his hand on Mikey’s shoulder and told him, I’m not giving up on him. I’m not leaving him behind. A sailor lost in a storm and their first glimpse of the lighthouse in the dark, close enough to save them.

“Hold your fire!” the man in the black suit barks suddenly, his voice viciously angry. “I did not clear any of you to fire!”

Mikey doesn’t care who the scary Men In Black guy is, or what reason he has for tracking Mikey and his brother down, or why he’s calling the dogs off now. He cares about helping Leo get back on his feet, scooping the crutches up off the ground and getting Leo’s arms in them, and staring right into Agent Sunglasses’s stupid face while the supernova burns and burns and burns inside him.

Try it, he doesn’t say. Just try it. If the Krang couldn’t take my brother from me, what hope do you think you have?

He feels Leo’s arm slip around his, locking them together at the elbow. Leo’s ninpo, a soft breeze instead of the playful gale it’s supposed to be, weaves through Mikey’s own to lead it.

‘Like this,’ the wind tells the sunburst, guiding it through the process it wants it to take the same way bigger hands used to guide a smaller Mikey through katas, readjusting his arms and poking him playfully on the beak when he scrunched it in frustration. The golden portal that opens beneath their feet costs him nothing, appearing as effortlessly as Leo’s spinning blue ones always do.

The agent’s face goes slack with shock the second before the turtles disappear.

They land on the sofa with enough force that it almost collapses, and Leo makes a pained noise, hands pressed to his plastron like he’s trying to contain a full-body ache with sheer willpower. Mikey scrambles off of him and falls off the sofa for his trouble. His clothes are prickly, like he’s covered in static electricity. A magazine left on the coffee table begins to move, pages flipping as if in a breeze. One of the beanbag chairs lifts up slightly, like gravity has gotten lighter in that specific spot.

He feels too big for himself. There are multitudes inside him, a million different things that are all true at the same time. He’s still so angry, and he’s still so afraid, and he’s still just Mikey, who couldn’t be what Leo needed him to be until the last possible second.

Just Mikey, who Leo saves his best smile for. Just Mikey, who Leo hugs like it’s the easiest thing in the world to bring another person that close and trust them right next to his heart.

“You’re the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen,” Leo says, like it’s another truth Mikey can keep for as long as he wants. Forever, even.

There will be hell to pay when their brothers get home. There’s a brand-new danger their family needs to be made aware of. Leo tried to leave him behind again and it reopened a wound that was still raw and healing.

But for now that wild star in his heart doesn’t need to burn so bright. It can put all the furniture that began to float back down and go back to sleep. And Mikey can press his face into the cracked print of Leo’s favorite Chappell Roan hoodie and say, “Hope you enjoyed your last taste of freedom for the next hundred years.”

Leo laughs, but doesn’t let go of Mikey right away. He clings extra hard for an extra long minute.

He would have left, Mikey realizes, but he didn’t want to go. When he was alone on the Technodrome, staring down a monster and a portal and the truth of how to save everyone, he didn’t want to go. If there was any other choice, he would have taken it. He would have come home.

Mikey isn’t Leo, who will do what he has to do no matter what it costs himself. Mikey isn't Raph or Donnie. Mikey is and always has been the spoiled baby of the family, who will do exactly what he wants to do and damn the consequences. He’ll tear a thousand holes open in the universe if that’s what it takes to keep his family together, and if the Hamato ancestors don’t like it then they can come and take their ninpo back.

They can try, anyway.

#rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #portal duo #hamato michelangelo #hamato leonardo #my writing #tmnt fic #prompt #mykimouser #this kind of jumps all over the place but im accepting it for what it is

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osamucide · 7 months

Text

crush

good men die too, so i’d rather be with you

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

wc: 3.5k

cw: gn!afab!reader, bathing/washing, alcohol, mild hurt/comfort, fluff, implied/referenced self harm, implied/referenced substance abuse, post-dark era, intimacy, explicit sexual content, spitting, soft (ooc?) dazai

reid: this has been sitting a bit and i finally got around to fixing it up :,) sorry again for my absence i am unwell but surviving and i hope to keep sharing with you guys what i can. thank you for all your patience

. . .

He’s never admitted how much he delights in crawling back to your apartment after he’s been gone for too long — long enough to make you worry a little. It’s cruel of him, really, to keep you waiting around so much. But you’re going to be here waiting anyway! So, he figures, why not? It’s a few miles off Port Mafia turf, and you always have hot food and plenty of sake. Not to mention that your hands were the first to ever hold him so gently — to hold him like a lover — and that’s plenty to keep him coming, even if he sometimes takes weeks at a time to find his way back.

It’s always worth it to have Osamu half undressed in your bathroom. A decent meal and the humidity fogging up the tile walls usually melts his resolve just enough so you can work his crumpled white tee off without him sending you any sort of eyes; tonight though, the human spirit is unbreakable. You brush the small of his back as you lift his shirt and it has him hitching his hips toward yours.

He’s truly a sight.

His brown mop is greasy. Accumulated sweat is beginning to force the dramatic lengths of bandages to curl away from his skin. He looks little more than empty and tired, but there’s a shadow of contentedness in his sharp features — you’ve just fed him seafood boil and a couple of Tokyo Mules (heavy on the American vodka), after all.

You reach down and dip your fingers in the filling basin; scalding, how he likes it.

“Drawers off, please.” You poke his chest with a damp finger pad and disappear into the hallway in pursuit of linens.

Dazai sits naked (save for bandages) and curled in on himself on the edge of the bathtub when you return. You stack a change of clean clothes on the sink, and his ankles knock together as he waits for your attention to fall back on him. Your towels sling over the door before you turn to him with your hands tucked together. He looks uncharacteristically meek, not unlike a fawn before it first walks -– the way he only ever does before what happens next.

He holds his arms out, wrists up, and smiles like the sunshine.

You smile back uneasily, appearing much less enthused than he; you know that sunshine smile well enough to know it only ever comes out as a shield. You know no matter how many times you unwrap his dressings, he's always going to hate it.

So, you start with the butterfly clip secured at the crook of his elbow, and you talk.

"I have a slice of tiramisu in the fridge for after."

"From that place I like?" His eyes get wide.

"From that place you like," you sigh, grinning.

"You must've had a feeling I was dropping by."

You usually encourage him to reuse the strips of fabric when possible, sometimes going so far as to let him hide from the city while you take them to the laundromat with your own clothes, but these ones are far past help —barely white, significantly bloody in spots and dirtied in others, so you just ball them up and toss them in the trash. You're stocked anyway, and you reassure him of this by retrieving a few fresh rolls from under the sink.

"Maybe I did."

You finish one arm and move to the other. Osamu lets his marred, bare skin dangle in the air. The sunshine is gone. He’s zoned out. You know he’s protecting himself.

You push his hand down to rest in his lap and your mind selfishly drifts to later, where you hope he'll sleep without his bandages, too — he had traipsed into your apartment lined up to his fingers, and all you had wished for was that you could’ve felt his palms, his knuckles, his nails when he hugged you back. You take as much of him in as you can in these kinds of moments; it’s just the kind of person you are. Damaged or not, his skin is your favorite place to be. You’ve told him this, but it seems to come across much clearer when you look into his sad brown eyes like they’re the only ones in the world while your fingers trace the tracks across his thighs like they’re no one’s in particular.

“So pretty,” you mumble.

It’s so well received this time around that Osamu sinks into the water with barely a shred of apprehension. Granted, he’s still a bit glazed over.

He really snaps to once his shoulders are beneath the water and you’re lathering shampoo — the coconutty one — between your hands.

He speaks your name with an earnest that’s almost mocking. “What are you doing?” But he knows what you’re doing, or what you’re not doing, rather, and he’s not going to let you get away with it.

“What?” Your hands are sudsy and he has the audacity to be yanking at your shirt now. You bat him away as well as you can, flinging some bubbles at him in the process. “What?”

His bottom lip pokes out as his wet hands find purchase around your wrists. Dazai has manipulated a lot of people with nothing but the look in his eye, but it’s never this one; this specific look is reserved for you, and he figures it’s hardly manipulation if he knows you’d enjoy it too. “Get in with me,” he whines, drawing out his ‘e.’

You grumble something about your soapy hands, something about not wasting a perfectly fine handful of your good shampoo, but it just allows him to insist even more on helping you out of your clothes. You sigh, but really, it’s these silly idiosyncrasies about him that make you cry when he’s gone. So, you indulge him. You commence an awkward and wiggly dance in which his fingers stretch your sleeves over your hands with care. You kick your pants off and shimmy out of your undergarments, feigning annoyance as you give into his whims so easily.

The bath is still nearly boiling. You make peace with it by hissing hot, hot, hot, hot, hot (he chuckles at you) until either of your knees are nestled underwater on either side of him. You rub your shampoo hands together and — now that Osamu’s gotten his way for one of many times tonight, for the millionth time ever, never for the last time — he graciously lets you wash his hair.

You inhale all the little hums and sighs he gives you. He tastes like every emotion you’ve ever felt. Heaven is a bathtub in a crummy apartment.

“You smell much better. Let’s rinse.” You go to push yourself up after you’re finished with him, but Osamu grips you unceremoniously and by both of your ass cheeks, so you look sternly into his face.

“Wait, wait, wait, just—” he pleads.

You flick water at his eyes. “We’re wading in your filth, thank you. Get up.”

“Just a second, damn it.” He clutches you closer, hands clasped behind your back, and you settle with shattered resistance against his chest. He mumbles something about who you think you are, telling me what to do.

Not that you try all that hard with him anymore; you both know well he’ll get what he wants, and right now he’s intent on holding you in the cooling water, so you loop your arms around his neck, unable to help the kiss you press to the side of his jaw or the stifled roll of your hips against his.

He’s silent for a moment as he traces the expanse of your back. You hope his eyes are closed. You know they’re probably not.

“Thank you.”

It’s something Osamu says quite a bit. He doesn’t get terribly sentimental often, but it’s usually after you’ve rid him of those wrappings that he comes close. Although, he never says exactly what for. For bathing him. For feeding him. For loving him. You understand well enough.

He’s still a little shit. He squeezes your ass and bites the shell of your ear.

“That’s it,” you yelp. “We’re rinsing.”

His laugh is whole as you pull the drain and start the shower, dodging your (mostly) dry hair.

The promise of dessert lets you get him into a pair of shorts at the very least. Once again you return to him — you wait on him like he’s a prince, and he looks like one on your bed with the blankets pooled around him as he towel dries his hair.

It’s so unfair, you think, how angelic he gets to be no matter what he’s doing. It’s something so mundane; his scars are on display, he’s tipsy and damp and has your plush cat-printed blanket acting somewhat like a cape, yet he steals your breath as you enter your bedroom. To top it all off, he pretends not to notice your presence right away.

You fold your legs beneath yourself, unfinished bottle of sake in one hand, delicate plate of tiramisu in the other, and Osamu finally acknowledges you with owlish eyes, raised brows, and a grin that reprograms the pattern of your heartbeat. He tosses the towel aside, eager, and reaches out.

“This—” his mouth is full, “this shit is…God. Heavenly.”

“Share.”

“Should’ve brought two forks.” He makes a show of lifting the plate out of your reach. You grasp at it lazily, uselessly, and he laughs, taunting you. You’re tired so you hoard the sake in response, which he’s fine with only until the tiramisu is gone — you only got two bites in — and he goes for that as well.

“Greedy!” you accuse, but you can’t help your laugh. You’re warm — the few swigs from the bottle are doing their job, and you let Osamu know this by giving in; you steady his head with one hand, and with your other you press the bottle to his lips and tilt it up. He drinks like it’s cider, and comes up for air with a soft curse.

The way he licks it off his lips wants to draw a gasp out of you, but you’re trained like a skilled gunman when he gives you targets like these — you’ve built up trigger discipline, and there are some things, you suppose, that you don’t let him have so easily after all.

Nonetheless, it’s like Osamu reads this mechanism working in your mind and takes it as a challenge. The bottle is transferred from your hands to his somewhere in the searing kiss he gives you; you fully register a hunger buzzing between you both that has nothing to do with tiramisu as you reach out for him, fumble toward him until you’re in his lap — you almost overwhelm his lithe frame with your tenacity, but he catches you, bottle tapping your back as you engulf each other.

Osamu is sneaky, he is; he never executes even the smallest action without meticulous thought. The way you end up under him might’ve been planned out from the bath, or maybe even before he was on your doorstep — either way, you give way to his weight; the bottle’s in one hand, somehow your wrists are in the other, and his waist connects with yours.

If nothing else predicts what you say next, it’s his restless hand clutching your hip, pulling at your shirt, clawing up your side.

“Missed you,” you slip into his mouth. You’ve already said this over dinner, but it’s different, heavier, when you’re breathing him in. Osamu lifts away from you for a kiss from the bottle. In brief control again, you wring your hands.

He’s statuesque above you. You wish you could snapshot the seconds in which he tilts the bottle back, where his drying hair falls in those loose waves around his angled jaw and his eyelids flicker. You reach out to trace him. His severe collarbone to his lean shoulder, down the thin valley between his bicep and tricep. You ghost around the fingers suspended in midair and bridge the gap to end on his pretty waist.

The bottle disappears onto your nightstand. Your eyes are wide as he grips your chin. He holds his breath, plants an elbow by your head, thumbs your bottom lip — all a means to waterfall the sake into your open, waiting mouth.

Liquor drips off him, into you; how are you supposed to keep from the way your legs demand his hips toward yours? The way you grind into him from below? You’re a live wire and he’s fraying the hell out of everywhere you end and begin.

You swallow what he gives you before he pulls back. You’re breathless, and he’s laughing. He’s laughing. This is what he does — he gets you under him and he laughs, so beautifully that you can hardly be mad, and sultrily enough that you flush pink.

“You should see your face!” he exclaims. Osamu is truthfully at his most joyous when he’s catching you off guard. “Little too filthy for ‘ya?”

“Please,” you scoff, willing him toward you again as you recover, more from the sting in the back of your throat than anything, pressing all your love into each of his mangled wrists with your palms and fingers. “As if that’s the filthiest thing we’ve done.”

“Jog my memory,” he suggests as he puts his smile back to yours, and so you work him out of the shorts you just got him in less than ten minutes ago.

As for yourself, well — you’re only naked from the waist down before you’re working your own slick up and down on him, biting your lip with anticipation, all but pulling him into you. You don’t even care if it hurts, and you almost say it, but you don’t — everything you’re doing is saying it for you — you just want him in you right now, right now, and he touches you between the gasps you draw from him; he watches the way he slides into you like you’re meant for him, like he’s meant for you, and you dig your heels into him as you whisper his name.

“Baby,” he whispers back. Those sad brown eyes flicker, shut, open, find you. “Oh.”

He rocks into you softly, such a contrast from the urgency with which he was kissing you mere moments before. Osamu’s a natural at giving you whiplash, sometimes in ways you didn’t know him to be capable of. He’s concentrated; you watch him, the slightest bit confused as his lips purse shut. You want to hear him, he knows, but it’s all welling up within him, he can feel it on his lash line, so he tucks his face into your neck and hopes you won’t say anything. You don’t, not for bit. You just circle your arms around his neck and groan at the way he grips you, feels you all over; you clench around him and pretend you don’t feel the tears beading along your shoulder.

“Too filthy for you?” you finally tease, but gently; you cup his face in your hands, push his hair from his forehead, and kiss the wetness away. He half-laughs, half-sobs. He obviously wasn’t expecting this. “Oh, ‘samu. Honey.”

“Don’t know what the fuck’s going on.” It’s his way of apologizing. He sniffles and follows it with an explanation. “You feel so good.”

You know they’re not tears of pleasure, but you let him write it off as he fucks into you. “You- uhn- you feel so good,” you echo.

It’s not unusual for him to be vocal — he moans, he gasps, he gives you delicious noises to make up for the words he can’t ever find, but tonight is so different; you don’t know what it is, but he talks. He’s talking, and it’s not the lewd musings you expect from Osamu Dazai, much less while he curls his hands into your hair and begins to pound into you. Yes, it’s much different tonight.

“Missed you too,” he finally gives you. “Missed you. So fucking much- fuck- I’m- oh, fuck…”

“Stop leaving,” you say breathlessly. “Stop leaving me. Just move in.”

“Shit, I might.” His hair is your lifeline. You knot your fingers in it like you hope you become part of it. “Might just have to come home to this every day. Y’take such good care of me. Don’t know wh- hah- what I did to deserve this pussy.”

“Please, please, Osamu.” You’re begging for more than one thing. “Fucking stay.”

So he keeps his pace, staying in one way or another — at least he can say he’s done that much. Whether or not you’ll wake up next to him tomorrow morning doesn’t matter right now; right now he’s fucking you, right now he’s yours, right now he’s ripping himself open a little further to let you see his rotten soul and you’re giving him everything he could never ask for, everything he doesn’t think he deserves — it’ll be enough, you’re sure, even though it’ll hurt when he disappears again; at least you’ll know you opened up in return, reflected his rottenness in the way that you know how. You’ve made a place for him in your home. You’ve made a place for him in your heart. He knows you want him to take it. Take it.

“So pretty, my baby, takin’ it so good.” He looks at you with those wet eyes between pressing bruising kisses to your lips, chin, neck. “Y’feel like fucking heaven. God, fuck. Don’t know if I- don’t know if I deserve it. So fucking good. So good. So good.”

“You d- you don’t have to do anything to deserve it- just fucking stay, please,” you plead with him. You’ll plead with him until he understands. “Oh- Osamu- ah!”

Your hands flail for a resting place — his head is restless with his kisses, his calloused hands and ridged arms are moving too fast for you to keep up with, the expanse of his back isn’t nearly close enough amid his wild pace, so you claw into the peaks of his shoulders and give all your sound and breath back to him while he rains praise upon you. He’s almost frantic in his task, like he needs you to know.

“Need you to know how much I love comin’ back here.” Osamu grabs one of your hands and guides you to your clit. “Touch yourself, please- please- want you cummin’ on me, baby, give it to me. Please.”

He pleads with you until you do.

You’re well aware that everything you can give him might not be enough to convince him. Convince him he’s not rotten. Convince him he does deserve it. Convince him he’s worthy of love. You know the best thing you can do for him right now is rub yourself quick and hard in time with his heavy thrusts. You keep giving him what he needs — you give him all your moans, grunts, curses, and he reflects them right back — you match each other, sobbing, twitching, biting, heaving until the wave rolls over you and you’re collecting him, throbbing around him and telling him it’s all for him, he’s so perfect, don’t stop, it feels so good while he spills into you, fills you up in that familiar way you don’t think you want to live without for weeks at a time anymore. Osamu’s tense as he drags both of your climaxes out for as long as he can; you’re crooning out his name and Osamu’s panting out yours and he’s so beautiful as he cums, he’s so beautiful while he cries, he’s so beautiful when he’s raw and selfish and fucked out of his brain, he’s so beautiful, he’s so beautiful, he’s so beautiful.

“So afraid to hurt you, baby,” he mumbles into your cheek minutes later, half-asleep and tipsy and still pulsing inside you. “You don’t deserve my shit. Get caught up in my shit.”

You don’t care about his shit, is what you tell him in return. You want him. You want to show him all the wonderful things he does in fact deserve.

Like the picturesque breakfast you cook him after you do wake up next to him in the morning. Like the tender way you rewrap his dressings as the afternoon sun gleams in white columns through your window. Like the first day he spends completely sober and well-fed in a long time.

“I don’t know if I deserve it.” All this, he means. You, and how wonderful you are. He says it again and again.

“I don’t care if you don’t deserve it.” You secure the butterfly clip in the crook of his elbow and meet his eyes. Far off. Waning sunshine. “Wanna give it to you anyway.”

For a moment the sunshine returns, and for the first time in a long time, if not ever, you see it reach his eyes. They don’t look so sad. Big, brown, maybe hopeful. Maybe sweet with preemptive regret. You hug Osamu in the still air of your apartment.

“Stay,” you whisper.

He hugs you back, limply, like he’s scared to break you. He trembles out, “I will.”

#bsd dazai x reader #dazai x reader #osamu dazai x reader #dazai smut #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd smut #nnnsfw.ᐟ #with love—reid

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elordilover · 7 months

Note

Hii! Could you write a walker scobell x actress reader fic where she's new to acting and her first acting role is in the pjo show? Thank you!!

i love this!! thanks so much for the request! 💐

more than best friends

pairing: walker scobell x fem!reader

summary: you are casted as annabeth for the pjo series and become best friends with your co-star, walker.

warnings: nothing really! not proof read, reader plays annabeth in the seires, half social media

————————————————————————

yourusername- i am so honored to finally tell you that am part of this project! this cast has become family. i’m so excited for everyone to watch it, meet you at camp half-blood: december 20th 🌩️⚡️🌊

walkerscobell- so honored to be able to work with you, and call you my best friend 💐♥️

percyjacksonseries- ⚡️⚡️⚡️

view more comments……..

—————

everyone on the cast just announced their spots in the series, it was your first time doing this so you were a bit nervous. you watched your phone as all the positive comments started to roll in.

you heard the door to your trailer open and saw a familiar face, walker. you would never admit this to anyone, but you did sort of have a crush on him. but you had to put the admiration to the side now that he was your co-star.

“Y/N, do you want to go grab food since we’re done shooting for the day?”, he asked you.

“sure! where are we going?”, you replied as you got up and started exiting your trailer.

“i don’t know, in-n-out?”

“yeah, sure”, you said as you walked to the car.

the whole car ride was filled with scream-singing to one direction songs, it was amazing. the light that shined through his hair made you admire him even more. how the sunshine made his eyes sparkle. the way his smile grew when you were both singing along to the music that shaped both of your childhoods. you had always dreamed of nights like this, now they became your reality. your only wish was that he would see you as more than a friend.

—————

the next day you arrived to set early and we r straight to the hair and makeup trailer, which was were walker was also. you couldn’t wait to see him.

“hey Y/N, how are you?” walker asked as you walked through the door.

“i’m good, a little tired tho, how about you?” you replied.

“i’m good!”, he said.

you two fell into easy conversation while getting makeup done, or getting your hair fixed. it was always easy with him, you always felt safe and at home while you were with walker. it was just something about him.

—————

“action!”, you heard and immediately started to act out your scene with walker. it was going to be in the finale episode, where you place your necklace around his neck. it was supposed to be a little romantic, but it shouldn’t have affected you this much.

walker’s deep blue eyes stared you down, your cheeks immediately turned a deep shade of red. it was embarrassing, everyone on set would notice your admiration toward walker.

walker started laughing, most likely from your eye contact. almost every scene you guys shot together ended up like this, you and walker would burst out laughing. almost every scene had to be reshot many many times.

you shot the scene again and again until it was perfect. your cheeks still burning many minutes after.

—————

after many long hours of shooting, walker entered into your trailer to hang out with you. it had become a nightly ritual for you guys. you would lay on your couch and scroll on tiktok, showing each other the funniest ones.

after minutes of scrolling walker tilted his phone toward you. you noticed the tiktok featured you and walker. it was an edit shipping you two. it used clips from different moments from the press tour, and red carpet events.

“i mean… it’s a good edit”, you said nervously. you secretly loved seeing tiktok’s like these.

“yeah i agree, it’s one of the better ones i’ve seen. we look pretty good together, we make a great team”, walker replied not knowing how that last sentence would effect you.

“we sure do”, you agreed as both you and walker’s cheeks turned red.

—————

the other members of the cast had noticed how close you and walker had gotten, when you weren’t together, you guys were texting, and if you weren’t texting, you were probably asleep. aryan had brought it up to you last week, he said how everyone saw how you guys looked at each other, and how you were both always blushing when you had scenes together. you didn’t believe him though.

—————

filming had come to an end and you were definitely going to miss your new best friends, especially walker. you two had agreed to call and text as much as you could till you could be back together for the press tour.

—————

yourusername- filming this show was the best experience of my life, thank you to everyone who was involved in creating this amazing series. love you all ♥️

the first two episodes are out now! 🌩️⚡️🌊

walkerscobell- SO EXCITED‼️‼️‼️

percyjacksonseries- oh my god

walkerfan- Y/N’s feeding us with this bts content

Y/Nfan- it’s sooooooo good

walkerscobell- first two episodes. out now. 🌩️🌊

i love everyone on this cast so much, they have become my family, so so so thankful for everyone who got me here

yourusername- GO BEST FRIEND ‼️‼️‼️

percyjacksonseries- watching rn.

walkerfan13- PERCYBETH 😭😭😭

Y/Nfan- Y/N X WALKER CONTENT 🎉

—————

after the cast party, you decided to go over to walker’s place before your parents came and got you.

“hey Y/N, i kind of wanted to tell you something”, walker said nervously, “ever since i first met you you’ve inspired me so much and i just wanted to say that i really like you, in more than a friend way”, he rambled out.

you thought you were dreaming, no way he just said that. you stared at him for a second before kissing him, it was just a simple peck but you hope it got your point across.

“wait, you like me too?”

“of course, of course i do” you replied, noticing how red walker’s cheeks were.

he leaned in and gave you another kiss, you couldn’t believe this was real life.

—————

after a couple of months, many interviews, many nights on facetime, many ship edits being sent to each other, many days of secretly dating. you both decided to make your relationship public.

yourusername- my mom approves

comments on this post have been limited…..

walkerscobell- percybeth irl

comments on this post have been limited……

————————————————————————

thanks for reading, please send feedback and more requests!

🎀🧡🐞🫀⭐️🥥🫶🏻🐝🪻🪩🌎🪷🥿🫧🫐🧿🪞

#walker scobell x reader #writing #walker scobell fanfiction #walker scobell x you #walker scobell fluff #walker scobell fic #walker #scobell #fluff #social media fic #pjo #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #annabeth chase #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson fluff #x reader

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xnchxntmxnt · 1 year

Note

hurt comfort with the astarion guy pls I don't don't know anything about the game I've just seen clips of him on youtube and I love him

you aSK AND YOU SHALL RECIEVE i love him

Blood is Rare and Sweet as Cherry Wine

Character: Astarion (Baldur's Gate)

Warnings: reverse hurt/comfort, mentions of alcohol (reader doesn’t drink), general astarion backstory information but it’s nothing super specific. not proofread

Notes: almost cried writing this. im sorry. anyway I'm a hozier lover what else is new.

gn reader

reblogs > likes

send an ask to join my taglist

Astarion stared at the fire, leaning back against one of the boxes under his tent. There was something serene about this area—they’d never been attacked at camp, and it comforted him to know he could let his guard down somewhere. If only slightly.

He was so lost in thought that he didn’t notice you walking up to him until you spoke.

“Astarion?” you asked, voice softer than he expected. “Are you alright?”

He must have looked upset—he didn’t need your pity, though, so he tried to shake himself back to reality. “What can I do for you, my dear?” he asked, sitting up a bit straighter and taking a sip of the ale next to him.

You paused, looking at him with your eyebrows furrowed slightly, then finally decided to sit next to him. He offered the ale but you declined. Instead, you turned your body to face him and slowly, gently, brushed a bit of hair out of his face.

And he flinched.

You quickly pulled your hand away from him and rested it in your lap. He stared, wide-eyed, terrified of his own actions. He’d inflicted pain on countless others and never felt guilt for it, but such a simple gesture broke him.

“I’m sorry,” he says, voice small and quiet. It was unlike anything you’d ever seen before. Astarion was always so eccentric, so proud, so…unafraid. This was an entirely new side to him, and he was even more embarrassed to show it to you. He wanted to run, he wanted to hide, but he didn’t have the energy to make his feet move. To make anything move.

There was a beat of silence, where the two of you only listened to the crackling fire a few feet away. Then, you spoke. “You don’t have to apologize for anything.”

He didn’t understand how you could be so kind to him. There were so many things wrong with him as a person, or things from his past—he’d hurt people, tricked them, found ways for dear Cazador to turn them into mindless little puppets. Like he was, before all this mindflayer business.

There was so much wrong in the world, and there you sat. His ray of sunshine—his hope. Somehow with you, things seemed a little less dreary. True, there was some mystical dream-being that followed you around keeping everyone from sprouting tentacles, so that was something positive. But your general disposition, the way you smiled at him when you caught him staring at you, the way you snuck away from the rest of camp with him to watch the stars…all these things made him fall so hopelessly in love.

He couldn’t be that person for you, though. He never learned how to make big, romantic gestures or show his affection in a way that made sense. A way that made sure you knew he adored you in your best and worst moments. Cazador had ruined him—he’d ruined any semblance of having a normal life. On top of being a vampire spawn and ripped away from his life before, he was stuck in an endless loop of servitude and puppetry or constantly fearing for his life. He never learned or could afford, to just relax. You deserved someone who could love you whole-heartedly, not the monster he’d become.

“I care for you so, so deeply, my dear,” he all but whispered, voice tight with emotion.

“I know.”

“I cannot, for the life of me…” he trailed off, quickly wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. “I cannot understand why you care for me.”

His head hung low; you stared at him, shocked and unsure how to react to his words. He felt embarrassed, he felt small—there was nothing he could do, it seemed, to pull himself out of this rut he had himself stuck in lately.

Then he heard your words.

“Can I hug you, Astarion?”

He glanced over to you, seeing teh pleading look in your eyes. You’d asked. Maybe that made him feel a little more normal, a little less messed up. Hesitantly, he leaned into your embrace. The moment he felt the warmth of your arms around him, though, he melted. He laid his head on your chest, his full weight falling into you exponentially by the second. And with it, he began to cry.

It was heart-wrenching sobs that felt like someone stabbing him through the heart every time, but he couldn’t mistake the comfort of your hands running through his hair. The soothing, repetitive motion calmed his nerves more than he thought possible. After what felt like ages, he began to sit up, trying to put himself back together like that hadn’t just happened. His eyes looked slightly irritated, but he tried desperately to wipe any evidence of his outburst from his face—

Suddenly, he felt your hands around his face, thumbs running over his cheeks. He stopped—his hands slowly fell, and he relaxed into your embrace once again.

“You do not have to apologize for feeling things, Astarion,” you said softly. “And you certainly don’t have to hide from me. Not your thoughts, not your emotions.”

He nodded, turning his head slightly to the side to kiss the palm of your hand. His voice was hoarse but surprisingly gentle. “Thank you. I don’t deserve you.”

“That’s the thing. You do.”

He smiled softly—it had been a long time since he felt like he could do so freely.

taglist

@grays321

#//ɪɴʙᴏx #//ᴏʀɪɢɴᴀʟ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ #//ᴏɴᴇꜱʜᴏᴛꜱ #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate #astarion #astarion acunin #astarion ancunin #astarion baldurs gate #astarion bg3 #astarion spoilers #bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x gn reader #astarion x male reader #astarion x you

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dckweed · 9 months

Text

THE DEATH OF PEACE OF MIND ➺ bob floyd

summary: In which bob floyd gets himself into a bit of a pickle and calls on his hot, recently single neighbor to help him out, the situation is mutually beneficial..in more ways than one.

warnings: fake dating, violence, domestic violence mentioned, nicknames, slowburn, eventual smut.

this is an x reader fic where reader is referred to as sunshine or sunny as a nickname, also i know the moodboard is a lil wonky no one say anything im gonna fix it! i made it on my phone half asleep lmao.

part one: here

PART TWO - THE FAKE INSTAGRAM

After the whole fiasco of snorting water out of your nose and scaring the poor man half to death, Bob insists on taking you to the quaint coffee shop on the corner of the street you guys lived on, just a few steps away from the front doors of the apartment building. Reluctantly, you agree, curious to know more about the predicament your neighbor had gotten himself into. He lets you have a few minutes to throw a cropped zip up hoodie over yourself, and a baseball cap to help shade the still slightly visible bruise on your face before you meet him in the hallway. He had clipped Cosie to her leash and the excited little furball was yipping excitedly when you stepped out of your home, closing the door behind you.

“Hi Cosie baby!” You say excitedly, your voice sweeter than honey as you crouched down to her level to excitedly scratch her behind the ears like she loved. “You being a good girl for your dad?” You ask teasingly, you knew she could never be bad, and Bob practically treated her like a princess anyway.

“Always is..” Bob says, his accent drawling out a few of the syllables in a way that you just loved to hear. God, you thought to yourself, this man could record an audio book and have everyone swooning. “You ready?”

You smile, straightening up. “Yeah, lets go..”

He was truly a gentleman you noted, he held the door to the apartment building, and the coffee shop for you as if it was second nature, only humming in response to your simple thank you, and when he pulled the chair out for you at the small table on their outdoor patio, you hoped that he didn’t notice the blush on your neck and face. Were you really so used to guys that were such brutes that you got flustered by basic acts of kindness? He hadn’t argued with you too much on paying for your own drink, letting you do it after a small squabble..or maybe you really didn’t give him a choice..you had already payed with your phone while you were arguing before he had even gotten his wallet out of his back pocket.

“So,” You say as he sits across from you, looping Cosie’s leash to the more shaded side of the table. “Can you elaborate on the whole girlfriend thing for me?” Now it was him who was turning red.

He fidgets awkwardly with his hot, black coffee for a moment, those eyebrows knit tightly together again. He clears his throat before he speaks. “I kind of..already told all of my friends that we’re dating.” He says, you lean back in the chair, your head tilted slightly towards the sun as you listen to him. You enjoyed the warmth on your face.“I..i don’t know what came over me..we were all drinking, and they said something about dating it somehow turned to me..and i just..i’m so tired of Hangman and his fucking manwhore whorier than thou attitude and always teasing me for not going on dates all the time..”

“So you told them you were dating someone?” You ask, seeing where the story was going. You could tell that the story alone was irritating him by the was his hand clenched around his coffee cup and the tightness around his mouth, the tick in his jaw. You wondered how long he had been putting up with this ‘Hangman’ guy.

Bob nods. “And then they asked her name, and at the time the only thing i could come up with quickly enough to not seem suspicious was Sunny..so..” You laugh a little bit, this man was adorable, and obviously gentle even though he was clearly upset by what he was talking about. You liked that about him, you decided.

How could you not help him? And really, what could it hurt? “How long would you need me to be your girlfriend for?” You ask, bringing the straw of your iced latte to your lips, moaning softly as the heavy caramel flavor hit your tongue. You could drink it forever. You see his body sag a little at your words, a little more relaxed.

“Just long enough to make it believable.” He states, eyeing you from across the table. Cosie’s cold nose pokes your leg and you happily reach down and scratch her head, giving the little baby all the attention she wanted. “A couple of nights out with my friends, obviously, and im sure Nat will want to hang out with you one on one..” He says, actually thinking of the scenarios that would most likely take place. “A couple of official work events, probably, I would say, a few months..”

You turn your attention back to him, lips pursed. A few months? That would land you around the beginning of the year..through Christmas..you had agreed to go home for the holiday’s this year. You arched a brow as you thought. It would look good if you brought a man home to your family, especially a man like Bob, they would swoon all over him..you wouldn’t have to spend the whole week hearing your grandmother tell you that you should be married already, or have a family like your brother and sister.. “Okay, i’ll help you out, but only if the fake boyfriend thing can be used in my favor too..” You say. He nods immediately. “So..rules?”

The two of you talk for a couple of hours at the coffee shop, the little table filled with the occasional laughter as you talked about rules of the arrangement, and what would need to be done. Later on you found yourself on one side of your couch, Bob on the other as the two of you tried to work out a schedule.

“Can you meet with me and the crew at our usual bar tomorrow night?” He asks, looking up from his phone at you. Natasha and Jake were blowing up the group chat about meeting you and it was slowly driving him insane. He had about forty text messages from this morning until right that moment.

You shake your head. :”I have work tomorrow night, but i’m off Monday.” You say, looking up from your own phone. You had been texting your sister about your plans for the Holidays. “My sister wants to know where you’re from, and what you do and i dont think she’ll take ‘navy dude’ as an answer” Bob looks at you, slightly offended.

“Navy dude?” He asks, setting his phone down for just a moment. “Sunny, i’m not just a ‘navy dude’, i’m a weapons system officer. I control the weapons and radar in multi million dollar government aircraft.” He looked completely offended by your terminology and you struggled to hold in a giggle at the way he was explaining his official job title to you. “..and I’m from Montana.”

“That explains the accent.” You say, texting your sister back.

Bob scoffs. “Accent?” He’d never been told he had an accent before. “Where are you from? This is basic stuff we should probably know about each other if we want people to believe this, you know?” You hummed in response, he was definitely right. “Also, Phoenix wants to know what your instagram is..”

“Well, that depends on how much you want your friends to know about me.” You say, setting your phone down to look at him. He looks up at you, eyebrows furrowed again. You have the sudden urge to reach across the damn couch and smooth the area with your thumb, but you resist. “Don’t look at me like that, you know what i mean. Are they the judgemental type?” He opens his mouth, as if to protest and say no, but then closes it and gives a slight nod. “Okay, so fake insta it is.”

It was a good thing you already had a fake instagram account for your grandmother and other family members because it made it a hell of alot easier for you. “A fake instagram? Won’t they think something is weird if it doesn’t have any pictures of us together on it?” He asks, not fully sure of your plan. You roll your eyes and maneuver yourself so you’re laying in Bob’s lap, looking directly up at him.

His entire body goes stiff and you can’t tell if its from surprise or from being uncomfortable with your proximity, but you don’t move and after a few moments his thigh muscles untense. He smells good, you realize as you breathe in slightly. “My fake account isn’t exactly fake, okay?” You say, opening the instagram app on your phone and switching it to your second profile. “It’s just not the one I use mainly that i post on for my friends or well, if you were actually my boyfriend, you, to see..”

“Then what is the point of it?” He asks looking down at you, his accent flowing smoothly through you. His voice was a little quieter now that you were so close to him, and in all honesty you didn’t mind it one bit.

You chuckle, giving him your phone so he can scroll through it. “I normally use it for my grandma and other family members, so they won’t have a damn heart attack..they already don’t like my line of work, there’s no need to go killing them with some pictures.” Bob hums in response, scrolling through a few of the posts. “It’s the extremely tame version of my main account.”

His phone pings again and he grunts, rolling his eyes. Before he can even try to hand you your own back, you grab his off the arm of the couch above you and thank god that it was already unlocked. You gasp at the text. “Hangman wants proof that im a real girl and not just a figment of your imagination.” You say, an idea coming to mind. You roll off of his lap and quickly stand, pulling him by the forearm to his feet as he makes a disgruntled noise.

You lead him down the small hallway, past your bedroom and into your bathroom (which was thankfully not its usual disastrous mess of makeup and lingerie scattered everywhere). “Okay, stand there..” You grab him by the biceps, shocked at how solid they are because he honestly didn’t seem to be overly buff to you, and position him exactly where you want him.

“Sunny, what’re we doin’?” He sighs, letting you move him around every which way. He had to admit, he liked the way you grabbed his arms, the way you squeezed at his biceps. He tried not to let his mind linger too much on it though, tried not to notice the way that your fingertips left a trail of goosebumps in their wake every time they lingered anywhere on his bare skin.

“Taking pictures, duh.” You say as if it should have been obvious. You turn around, satisfied with his position, and face the mirror yourself, positioning his arm around your shoulders and over your chest as you press back against his surprisingly solid body. You weren’t exactly a short person by any means, but there was definitely a noticeable height difference between you and him. Your head just barely cleared his shoulders, his chin able to rest perfectly onto of your head. It made for a cute photo, you thought and you pretended not to notice the goofy smirk on his face as you captured the photo as stealthily as you could, leaning back into his chest as his chin rested on top of your head, his arm over your chest and your hand wrapped around his forearm as you took the picture, acutely aware of his hand just over the waistband of your lululemon pants.

You hum, thinking about what other positions would be cute enough to send to his friends and post to your fake insta account, you wanted to hard launch him to your family too if you were hard launching to his friends. You turn the camera of his phone front facing, and set it up to take rapid photos on a timer before you abruptly turn around and jump up, locking your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck.

“Smile at me.” You say, as your hand snakes up into his hair. You didn’t really have to though because he was already smiling at you in surprise as you leaned your forehead against his. “I didn’t think you’d be able to hold me.” You giggle suddenly, and the sound makes his smile grow wider as he adjusts his hands so they’re fulling on your ass, supporting you as he drops his head to your shoulder.

The whole ordeal of the photo session takes about fifteen minutes or so, and when you’re finished you lead him back out into the living room. “Sorry to jump on you like that, but i had to catch you off guard, i wanted it to look believable.” You say, sitting back down on the couch. He only hums in response, taking a spot next to you as he watches you pick through your favorite photos in his camera roll to text to yourself.

“You’re awfully good at that,” He ques, watching you edit some of the photos you had sent to your own phone, before you compose an instagram post of the best ones. “I always just take them and post them, i never thought that filters really mattered..”

You chuckle at the man, shaking your head. “What’s your instagram, bobby?” You ask, using your nickname for him as you type out a caption for the post.

“Oh, uh,” a slight blush heats up his neck and face and he clears his throat before responding. “It’s @thewizzo ..natasha actually came up with the handle.” You type it into your caption, eyebrows furrowed. You’re about to ask him what the hell a wizzo is when he answers it for you. “It’s uh, well, sometimes its a nickname, or another acronym for WSO..”

“Oh, snazzy..” You say showing him the post. It was a series of four photos and a small, but cute caption.

“Is it Bobby approved?” You ask. He gives you an affirmative nod and you hit the post button, knowing it would only be a matter of minutes before your sister and brother blow up your phone. “Okay, well, here’s to our fake relationship!” You say, attaching the photo of Bob holding you with his hands on your ass to a text with your instagram handle and sending it to his friends group chat.

The phone pings before you’ve even handed it back to him.

Hangman: holy fuck she’s real. Phee: shut up you moron, im following her rn!! Rooster: …wait i thought i was imagining this conversation last night Payback: oh, shit..way to go Bob!!

taglist!

@mamachasesmayhem @hangmandruigandmav @shotgunhallelujah @shiara04 @3tabbiesandalab @tgmreader @flrboyd @goosterroose @mrspedropascal5683 @sugajar

@dory-98 @justherebecausesafarisucks

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smoshyourheadin · 6 months

Text

Sunshine and Soda Cans

Part 2 - Bubbles

"hey, spencer!" angela jogs up to spencer as you walk into the office. you wander to the kitchen to grab a soda, and put your stuff down.

"(y/n) said shes struggling with editing the new try not to laugh episode, and i don't think she's going to ask for help because she's too stubborn, so can you just check on her and give her a hand?". spencer looks over at you, and back to angela

"yeah sure! i'll catch up with her later" angela gives him a big grin, and then walks over to you, striking up a conversation.

later on, you're sat at your desk, editing away. you've been stuck re-trimming the same clip for like twenty minutes, and you're becoming increasingly frustrated.

"hey, (y/n)!"

his voice catches your attention, making you look up, but not away from the screen.

"hi spence, uh- what's up?" you say, eyes still glued to your screen.

"oh nothing, just checking how you're getting on with the try not to laugh edit. everything going good?"

"no actually' you, look up at him and you chuckle "ive, i've been trying to edit the same clip for like ever, and it won't save properly. im losing my mind!"

he smiles at you honesty, and pulls up a chair to help you out. after about an hour, you two get a bit bored and decide to go live on the games channel, streaming some sims

"alrighty then guys, hello! welcome to the games channel, today me and spencer are going to be playing some sims 4!" you smile into the camera, adjusting your hair, and you relax into your chair.

"guys, can we hate on (y/n) in chat for drowning my sims last time" spencer says sarcastically, glaring at you sassily.

"hey!" you elbow him, playfully "you made fun of my sims' fashion choices!"

he laughs at your anger, and you talk with the chat for a little while as the game loads

"okay, my plan is to make a love triangle in my mansion. i want to see if they can handle the drama.." you say, tapping your fingertips together

"woah, okay dr. evil!" he says, laughing with you

you guys start making some characters that, suspiciously, resemble each other. as you begin to play, your sims keep chatting to eachother

"hey, (y/n), why does your sim keep flirting with mine? got a crush or something?" spencer says with a smirk

"oh, please! my sim is just being friendly! unlike yours, who keeps stealing my sim's food!!! didn't realise your name was tina.." you giggle at your own joke, napoleon dynamite is one of the first things you two bonded over, so you both have a good laugh.

you guys play for about two hours, and then decide to wrap up, finishing the stream

before getting up to leave, you guys share a lingering gaze, and you see the colours in his eyes. you give him a ride back to his apartment, and you turn of your radiohead "in rainbows' cd. weird fishes/arpeggi comes on, as you pull up infront of his apartment. you look over at him with a sweet smile.

"well, see you tomorrow spence"

"yeah. looking forward to it"

you two lock eyes, and then he gently pulls you into a sweet kiss, his hand lingering on your jaw as you melt into his touch. he tastes like mt dew, and you smile against his lips. as you break away, you already miss his lips on yours.

"see ya, (y/n)" he says with a smile and a new twinkle in his eye, exiting the car and walking into his apartment block.

you sit in your car for at least another five minutes; eyes glassy, chest heavy, and palms sweating. you pick up your phone, and open up the phone app, ringing the only person you can think of to call.

"hey jelly, do we have any icecream? i need to tell you what's just happened"

you hear angela open the freezer over the phone, and she says

"yeah, we have some vanilla and i think there's some strawberries in the fridge. everything okay?"

"yeah," you breathing staggers, fully realising what just happened "me and spencer kissed"

"I'M SORRY WHAT"

you hang up, and start driving back to your apartment.

---------------------------

a/n— hey!! thank you all so much for the love on part one omg love y’all for that ahhh 😚 my requests are open btw!! so feel free to request anything, not just smosh stuff!! i’ll write for anything (even if im not in the fandom 😚)! okay yeah hope you all enjoy pt2!! love y'all 💛

#smosh #spencer agnew #angela giarratana #amanda lehan canto #courtney miller #shayne topp #arasha lalani #x reader #spencer agnew x reader #first fic #smoshyourheadin

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yorshie · 2 months

Text

Señorita

Bayverse mikey x gn reader, sfw

“Gah, it’s no use.” You call, disappointed when once again your two left feet manage to trip each other up.

Mikey laughs when you stumble and catch yourself, his humor an infectious thing that brings a smile to your mouth even though inside your head you’re cursing at the once again missed cues.

“It’s ok, angel, you’re just thinking too much,” he tells you, hopping off the edge of the rooftop where he’d stayed since showing you the initial steps.

You frown, trying to move to the side so he’d have room to move, “no, I’m pretty sure you have to be thinking to remember the steps.” another side step to stay out of his way when he paused by the boombox to restart the song. “That’s gotta be an important part, remembering that.”

“Oh, yeah, you’re definitely an over–thinker,” he accused gleefully, taking advantage of your immediate, high pitched noise of denial to close the distance between the two of you.

He sidled up to your side smooth as silk, taking both your raised hands in his before you could jerk out of his space. Like a planet caught in the sun’s orbit, your feet followed him before your mind could catch up, woodenly stepping in time as he led you around.

“You’re too tight,” he said softly, cheekily, placing your hands on his shoulders before dropping his to your hips, pulling slightly as he repeated the few easy motions.

You were flustered, you wanted to protest, but as with anything else that felt too close to an admission where your friend was concerned, you swallowed it back down, the word painful in your throat when it ran into the hiccuped breath that was caught right below your collar.

Your hands on his shoulders felt hot, sweaty, and you fought not to dig them into the more prominent scales when the pads of your fingers grazed them. Close, too close, too close for your heart and your peace of mind. Goosebumps chased down your arms, heat down your back, focusing too much on not locking up to hear the words he whispered into your hair.

He moved closer, plastron brushing your elbows, his hands not letting you pull away. The outside of his foot clipped the inside of your ankle as he tried to get you to widen one of your steps. He hummed, the sound low and contemplating, causing you to shiver, but when you looked up you could only see the look of concentration on his face, tongue peeking out as he stared at the way your hips and feet moved out of sync.

“You gotta feel the music, quit thinking.” Baby blues snuck a look up at your face, before he tugged you closer, “here, follow me-”

Your stomach brushed his plastron, and you finally succeeded in pulling away, sputtering and feeling nine kinds of foolish when he snagged one of your hands with his lightning fast ninja reflexes and tugged you right back.

“Alright, sorry, sorry, sunshine, too fast.” Before you could decipher what he meant by that, his hands enveloped yours again, pressing them to the middle scute on his plastron, right over that little heart that you’d wanted to touch for months.

“Just feel the music,” he said softly, thumbs rubbing over the little bones in your wrists before sliding up to your elbows. He lingered there, for a moment, while you were concentrating on not letting your hands wander too far from where he’d placed them, before dropping back to your waist. Wide, just a little bit warm, the calluses on his palms rasped against the little peek of skin where your shirt had ridden up.

“Song’s restarting, just follow my lead,” he told you in that same careful whisper, rolling your hips in his grip in a mimic of the roll you could feel happening under your hands, and-

And your mind blanked, relying completely on Mikey, allowing him to pull you around the makeshift dance floor as the music played and he softly sang the words into your hair.

Your breath caught, trembling high in your throat, before the smooth rub of his thumbs coiled into the heat under your skin, and you relaxed, just a touch, just enough to realize there was more than just the bass thrumming underneath your fingers.

A quick glance upwards, looking up through your lashes, confirmed that Mikey wasn’t watching where your feet were going, pupils wide enough to reflect your face as he met your gaze.

His hands squeezed, gently, at your waist, pulling you closer.

#TMNT fanfiction #TMNT bayverse #bayverse mikey x reader #my writing snippets #me desperately trying to outrun lucky as we race around spoon in circles

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thedeviltohisangel · 3 months

Text

The Road To A Beautiful Nowhere: You're Lonely In This City

a/n: I cannot believe the first part of this hit so hard in so little time! Especially because I went way less traditional on it and just leeched prose all of the tumblr bot. Thank you all immensely for loving it the way you have. This iteration is a bit more fic-y and I've named the lady in his life we met the previous time around and not sure where they are going but I am here to play around with them if you all have any little ideas or requests. This beautiful man deserves all the words written about him and thank you babes for supporting me in my journey to do so!

She doesn’t know where she was supposed to tell her parents she was going. Her jeans and dirty Keds and suede jacket not really presenting an easy excuse. If she was going to the store with friends or headed to the library to study, she would be in a frilly dress and kitten heels. Her hair would be curled and wrapped in a bow. But she couldn’t wear a dress on the back of Benny’s bike. Didn’t want to go through the effort of doing her hair just for the wind to muss it up.

They were going to hear his bike rumbling down the road. Certainly her father was going to stare at him out the window in the hope he would break. There was no use in trying to hide who she was spending the afternoon with. Maybe even the entire night if the beer at the picnic gave her enough courage.

The house vibrated slightly to announce his arrival. The feeling spread like joy through her bones but the wisps of dread from downstairs were fighting to make their way up to her. Delilah adjusted the clip keeping half of her hair back before squaring her shoulders and take the steps to the front door as quickly as possible.

“Where do you think you’re going?” her mother asked from where she was knitting in the corner.

“Benny invited me out.” Delilah paused with her hand on the front doorknob.

“You’ll be back by 10?” There went her plans to spend the night.

“Yes.” The quicker she agreed, the less likely she would have to face her father. The quicker she agreed, the quicker she could be in the safe haven of Benny.

Her wrist flexed back and forth as it waited for the command to turn the knob and lead her out into the sunshine. She was begging for them to just say okay. To just say yes and let her go. Not drag this out any longer. It was embarrassing enough being around Benny with the incessant blush to her cheeks and white knuckle grip on him everywhere they went. Bad enough he was legally banned from the campus of Northwestern. Had to stand outside her favorite bookstore while she perused. So many facets of their life that fought against each other instead of working together. She hated that her family dynamic was just one more obstacle for them to overcome.

“Not a minute later.” That was her father who had deigned to speak. His words were presented flat but she knew the cold and biting meaning that was resting right behind them. Ready to snap should she misbehave.

“Yes. I promise.”

“Then you may go.” Delilah opened the door before either of them could change their minds and cleared the front steps in one leap before she was across the pavement, her nose landing in the spot of his neck that smelled like motor oil and cigarettes and the essence of the Stop Light.

“I missed you, Dumpling,” he murmured into her hair, stroking his hand down the back of her head before pressing a kiss to the top of her ear.

“I missed you, too. But I’m here now. I’m all yours until ten o’clock.” Benny groaned as he held her waist steady while she swung her leg over the back of his bike.

“That’s not nearly enough time for all the things I had planned.” His leg kicked down hard to start the bike and her heart fluttered perfectly in tune with it. Like a lion’s roar. She would never get tired of watching him spur the mechanical beast to life. Spur her own heart to life right there inside her chest.

“I guess you’ll just have to see me again,” she teased as her cheek rested against his back and he began to steer them in the direction of where the club was meeting for the day.

“Dumpling, some day you’re gonna see me so much you’ll be sick of me.” Delilah hummed her disagreement into his colors, her lips pressed to the skull as if it was the soft skin of his forehead instead.

How could she ever be sick of this feeling? The feeling of his bike hurtling them towards the sun like Apollo’s arrow. The feeling of everything she had ever known disappearing into a speck on the horizon. The walls that she always felt caving in, breaking open in a sea of shattered memories and haunted dreams and gates she hadn’t known she’d built around herself.

He squeezed her hand that was around his waist as if he could hear her thoughts. It was a quick pulse of his fingers but told her he knew. Told her that he didn’t need words in order to understand. Told her he would ride like this until they reached the edge of the earth if that is what would make her happy.

Some mornings, she thought about asking him to do just that.

----

“Delilah, tell me again what you’re studying?” She smiled as Cal settled on the ground by her feet, the smoke of his cigarette curling around his fingers and drifting into her nose.

“I’m studying to be a nurse, Cal,” she spoke politely. He nodded his head around the sip of beer he took.

“Yeah, yeah that’s right. Real fucking cool.” She hid her giggle behind her palm and leaned further into the solid man to her right.

“How many times do you think I’ll tell him I’m going to be a nurse before the night is over?” She’d already had the conversation with him twice, this made three. Benny peered around her to look at the taller blonde.

“At least three more.” He flicked the butt of his cigarette into the fire they were sitting around and pulled her hand out of the pocket of her jacket. “Let’s go for a walk.”

“Okay.” She walked in the direction he was bringing her, the whistles of the group they were leaving only earning them a finger from Benny. “You know, right now it looks like you are leading me to a secluded corner of the woods to be my undoing.”

“That’s exactly what I’m doing,” he threw over his shoulder. Delilah blushed and quickened her pace so they were side by side.

“Is that your attempt at being romantic?” she teased.

“What girl doesn’t want a boy to lead her somewhere quiet where she can fall apart without an audience?”

“Benny, the way you are turning my joke about murder into a lovely sentiment is quite something.” He laughed and lifted his arm for her to twirl underneath. “I would have brought a dress to wear if I had known we’d be dancing.”

“I like those little things,” Benny muttered as he ducked under a branch.

“I can’t really straddle a bike in them without being wholly improper.”

“Maybe we could get you some chaps or something to wear underneath. Get you on my bike and in your little dress.” The thought alone made him twitch between his legs.

“Have you been thinking about this, Mr. Cross? Fantasizing, even?”

“I’ve been thinking about this even more.” He squeezed her hand impossibly tight as she stepped into the meadow and looked up at the night sky. They were far enough from the beating heart of Chicago to see more stars than she’d ever imagined even existed. They glittering across the ink black expanse and Delilah swore they were whispering a song in the wind. “You like it?”

“Benny, how…how did you find this place?”

“Every once in a while at these things, I just need a moment to myself. Found it while I was wandering around a couple of weeks back.” He had thought she would like it from the moment he had found it. Had agonized over when would be the right time to show it to her. Had maybe let a little bit of doubt creep in that made him sheepish in presenting it.

“Come sit with me. I want to look at them for a minute.” She smiled and giggled to herself as she walked a few paces into the meadow and sat down, her leg stretching in front of her. Delilah contentedly looked up at the sky as Benny sank down next to her, a fresh cigarette in between his lips.

“Makes you stop and think for a minute, doesn’t it?” he breathed as they enjoyed the scent of the smoke mixing with the night air and the comfortable silence.

“I think all the time about a life outside of Chicago. One where stars are out like this without having to look for it.” One where she wasn’t afraid to step inside her own home. One where she was allowed to be loud and make mistakes and love whoever she wished to without fear of the repercussions. One where Benny could be right alongside her on this wild ride.

“That sounds nice,” he replied simply. Delilah tugged her knees against her chest. It was foolish to dream of a life like that with Benny. The Vandals meant too much to him. He would never leave the club. That much was always clear as day.

“I have to finish school first, of course, but after that…” He bristled only slightly at her notion that there was a definitive timeline to her presence with him. That she would be handed a piece of paper one day and then be nothing more than a whisper in the wind. “We could go somewhere together, Benny.” Her words were so soft they were almost a whisper. Her cheek resting on the top of her knee as she turned to look at him.

“I can’t leave the club.” There was no room to interpret his words any differently than how he meant them. There was black and there was white. No shades of gray.

“Right. Yeah. Yeah, I know.” Delilah found her fingers more interesting than the stars as the answer settled on her shoulders. The sustainability of what was between them, approaching love rapidly but screeching like tires on the freeway at inopportune times, might be a question a less naive girl and boy would ask themselves.

“Dumpling-”

“No, Benny, I’m not upset. You’re being honest. How could I be upset?” It was something she thought about often. If she should push harder to put a name to the feeling in her chest when she was around him. If she should figure out a way to exist in that space, trading a life away from her parents for a life with Benny. Delilah would never ask him to choose her or the club. Her or riding. Her or anything. She wanted to be his choice without having to ask him to make one. That was the only version of a relationship she would accept. Not after the one between her parents she was forced to be a witness of her entire life.

“I should get you back home soon.” Benny didn’t like upsetting her. Didn’t like when the fire went out between her eyes. It was so rare he was the cause of it extinguishing but it ached in a way he couldn’t put into words when he did. He stood and offered her a hand, the other flicking his cigarette to the dirt before he twisted the bottom of his boot on top of it. “We can come back here another night. When we have more time.” She nodded as she brushed some dirt off of her pants.

“When we have more time,” she echoed. He kissed her forehead and led her back in the direction they came. Delilah couldn’t help but think, the entire walk back, that it would’ve been nice to keep walking across that meadow. Take the risk to see what was waiting on the other side. Forward and forward until they blended into the darkness. Gone to a place where things were new. Scars were healed and the thread of fate started spinning over again.

Delilah could picture her own string of yarn waiting on the other side of that meadow. Golden and strong and untouched by the horrors this life had wrought upon her. There was room for another. Another that smelled like gasoline and cigarettes and endless summer. Durable as the denim he wore every day.

She just needed him to see it.

#austin butler #austin butler fanfiction #the bikeriders #bikeriders #bikeriders fanfiction #the bikeriders fanfiction #benny cross #benny cross x oc #benny cross fanfiction

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swiftllama · 7 months

Text

January Compliments ☀️🔍

[Compliments Masterlist]

Hello everyone and welcome to the first Compliments Post of 2024! Hope the year has started off well for you all, and if not, then I hope this post can at least provide a little bit of joy to your day 🫶

We may be only one month in but the boys have been delivering since the very first day 🙌 So let’s get into it shall we! :-

January 2024

Ian’s 2023 Wrap Up

So to start us off, first day of the year and Mr Sunshine was already tugging at our heartstrings with his wrap up of 2023, and who made his 2023 what it was? Well Anthony of course 🥹

STOP IT! RIGHT NOW! 😩

LIKE WHAT IS THIS??? IM MEANT TO COPE WITH THIS??? HOW???

The fact the WHOLE post is Anthony - from the photos to the caption! EVERY SINGLE PHOTO HAS ANTHONY 😭 Also don’t even get me started on the two unseen photos and the fact they’ve been kept from us till now. How dare 😤 AND the fact the first person he thanked was Anthony! Like yes he’s thanking and appreciating many people with this post but come on now, from the pictures alone it’s clear who made his year. This is just SO SPECIAL! Especially coming from Ian, who isn’t normally a big one for sharing his emotions (I think we’ve seen a change with that recently though), but this is BIG!

Anthony also in return left a sweet comment :-

“proud of you buddy.”

CRYING 😭 They kill me these two, couldn’t even go one day without being sappy to each other - not that I’m complaining. And as much as I would love to just sit here in this gooeyness, we’ve got a lot to get through so I must move on 🥲

LEGEND OF ZELDA RAP (Flashback)

So they reacted to the classic Legend Of Zelda Rap in this Flashback eps and got a few little compliments thrown in :-

[discussing the scene of Ian dressed as Link winking at the camera that spawned a viral gif]

Anthony: “That for some reason was a clip that went viral- or a gif that went viral.”

Ian: “Yeah, it’s like horny posters.”

Anthony: “Yeah.”

Ian: “Yeah.”

Anthony: “I see it way too much.”

[shoutout editor Kortney for this 😆]

Ian: “Gotta say, never looked better.”

Anthony: “That’s true.”

Anthony agrees 😏

Erin: [asking Ian if he had spicy time in the Link outfit like Anthony said about the Assassin’s Creed outfit in their 2 Truths 1 Lie eps]

Ian: “I did not have spicy time in the Link outfit because that outfit was very tight, there was not much of a range of motion in it.”

Anthony: “Right. Well you could be a pillow princess in that.”

Ian: “I’m not a pillow princess.”

Anthony: “Oh really?”

Ian: “Yeah.”

Anthony: “I’ve heard otherwise.”

[look at each other and Anthony laughs]

Ian: “Oh yeah, cause canonically we had sex for seven years.”

Anthony: [laughs] “In the Food Battle lore.”

Ian: “Yeah. Canonically in Food Battle, we’ve had sex for seven years. You know every crevice of my body.”

Anthony: “Of your anatomy.”

Ian: “Yeah.”

Anthony: “Anywho…”

Ian: “Wow, this went a weird place.”

Anthony: “Back to looking at Link in his prime.”

Ian: “Back to me looking freakin’ HAWT.”

Anthony: “Yeah.”

Just them casually discussing the fact they’ve canonically had sex for 7 years and then Anthony once again agreeing Ian looked hot in the Link outfit… I don’t think I even need to say anything.

Anthony: “Oh! And I just want to give a shoutout to myself.”

Ian: “Oh, [sings] shoutout to myself.”

Anthony: “I painstakingly added those fucking stars [in the scene] for some reason. I thought they were so necessary.”

Ian: “Yeah, no, that was sick.”

Ian giving Anthony a little compliment for his hard work 😊

…

Speaking of the stars it was also something Ian brought up again later when they appeared in the video again :-

Ian: “Stars. Stars.”

Anthony: “Oh yeah. Stars. We got ‘em in there.”

Very cute how he wanted to shoutout Anthony’s work again ☺️

Erin: “That’s Anthony?! [as Ganondorf]”

Ian: “Yeah.”

Anthony: “Shut up. You knew that was me.”

Erin: “That’s crazy.”

Ian: “You didn’t know that was Anthony?”

Erin: “Where’d your, like, jaw go?”

Ian: “What do you mean? He’s got an epic jaw.”

Ian got so defensive on Anthony’s behalf here, I love it! Reminded me of the moments from Who Meme’d It when Anthony was defending Ian 😌

And that was us for this video!

Moving on…

SOUP!

Gets a big title cause why not!

But yes, soup! So Ian has gotten into making soup this year and on that same Friday we got the Flashback, that evening we were blessed out of nowhere with these stories :-

THE WAY I SCREAMED WHEN I SAW THESE 😩

Like this is the cutest, most domesticated shit ever! They kill me!!!!

And okay yes when that first photo was posted I thought Ian was right then and there cooking it for him, Ian then responded with this :-

Let me live in my fantasies Ian! 😤

But regardless of Mr dashing-my-dreams Hecox, I’m still of the mindset they were hanging out that day and that’s when Ian gave him the container of soup.

Evidence :-

This photo only. That I believe Anthony took 😌

Also I try not to make these posts too shipper-heavy so that everyone may enjoy them if they’re just here for the friendship alone, so I’ll just leave this other little post I made here about some other thoughts I had on this soup situation that isn’t in the friendship realm 🤭 All cool if that’s not for you though!

VidConfessions

So 7 months later Vidcon finally decided to post this little interview they had with them lol. And even with such a short video we still got a few complimentary/cute moments :-

So Anthony was being his usual self and finding Ian the funniest person alive as always. There was a couple moments where Ian gave his answers and you just hear Anthony’s laugh in the background 🥰

Q: What are the last three things you Googled?

Ian: “Jared Leto cult…”

He’s a cutie ☺️

…

And it happened again!

Q: What’s the cringest thing you’ve ever done for views?

Ian: “I mean like our whole channel’s cringe.”

Anthony, once again: [laughing in the background]

Love him and how much he loves Ian and his humour 😊

This was just one wee last bit I thought was cute :-

Ian: [signing out the video] “This has been Ian from Smosh, that’s right, the channel that is 17 and a half years old that’s doing sketch comedy again with my best friend Anthony.”

Can never resist them calling each other ‘best friend’ so of course had to include it!

Making of Pokémon In Real Life 2024

So they brought back the classic Pokémon In Real Life sketch, and from that obviously we got the BTS. Only a couple little moments from this one but just wanted to include them cause they were silly 🤓

Ian: [sneezes] “Sorry. Your hairspray.”

Anthony: “Ohhh… he’s allergic to me [smirks].”

👀 Don’t know what that was about but alrighty, Anthony…

Ian: [cuts his finger and there’s a dot of blood]

Anthony: “Oh my god, dude. Are you okay?”

Ian: “No, I’m not okay. Trigger warning gore.”

Anthony: “Do you need someone to suck out the blood?”

Why did this just turn into Saltburn? Don’t know what Anthony was on with the these two moments but I won’t question it 😝 And despite saying ‘someone’, he was definitely offering to suck the blood from Ian’s finger himself 🤭

Pokémon In Real Life 2024 Watch Party

Of course with the sketch and BTS we got a livestream, which gave us some cute and complimentary moments 😊

To kick off this livestream I just wanna point out that they were wearing matching colours with Anthony’s jacket and Ian’s hoodie, plus matching Smosh Pokémon hats which is very cute 😊

Ian: [apologising for getting annoyed in the BTS due to the background noise messing up their filming] “Dude, this video. This Pokémon video. I apologise if I looked very angry in the behind the scenes.”

Anthony: [laughs] “You didn’t look that bad. Honestly, it amped up accurately.”

Erin: “The compilation of you getting angry, it was pretty funny.”

Anthony: Yeah, so it was justified. People knew why you were angry.”

Love the reassurance from Anthony here so that Ian isn’t worried about how he came across in the video.

[take their hats off]

Ian: “How’s my hair? Is it weird?”

Anthony: “Is mine weird? Yours is fine.”

Ian: “No, I feel like yours is like, yours has like a messy chic to it, you know.”

Them just complimenting each other’s hair - here for it! Also Ian’s added compliment of “messy chic” 😄

[playing Pokémon quiz]

I&A: “Jinx.”

Crew: [laughs]

Anthony: [smiles and points to Ian] “Jinx.”

Ian: “That’s our favourite. Favourite Pokémon.”

Funny because it’s both the Pokémon’s name and they said it at the same time 😝 Cute how Ian also got in that that’s their favourite ☺️

[complete the quiz]

Anthony: “Dude, 100 percent, bro.”

I&A: [high-five]

Of course always gotta include the highfives 😌

After the quiz they go on to play a Pikachu x Sonic crossover. Anthony plays a round and then Ian goes to play but can’t get the controls to work for him so Anthony’s showing him what to do 🥹 I don’t feel the need to include what they said here as it’s just Anthony saying what buttons to push but just wanted to include a little description of what was happening at this moment 😊

Ian: [completes the game]

Anthony: “You won the game.” [clapping]

Just another little cute moment I wanted to include of Anthony clapping for Ian 🙂

[playing Pokémon Among Us]

Anthony: [playing the game well]

Ian: “Alright, I hate that you’re like kind of eating.” [as Ian kept dying]

A begrudging little compliment from Ian there 😄

[signing the livestream off]

Ian: “Happy New Year, hope the holidays were a fun time for you and you had some eggnog and sat by the campfire…”

Anthony: “Roasting chestnuts.”

Ian: “Roasting chestnuts.”

Anthony: “Or chestnut. I’m not making any assumptions.”

Ian: “….What?”

Anthony: “Just if they don’t have more than one chestnut.”

Ian: “Ohh, okay. I don’t know if you could buy a singular chestnut but…”

Anthony: “I think there’s a way.”

Ian: “Go off king.”

Just a silly little one to end on because I wanted to include Ian calling Anthony ‘king’ 🤭

Can I Guess Who Slapped Me?

So the video of Anthony getting slapped finally dropped! And it was everything and more, especially when it came to moments between Ian and Anthony so let’s jump right in :-

Right off the bat we had this as the description for Ian…

👀👀👀

Now onto the actual slapping…

The moment that got us all was just before Ian slaps him he slowly started caressing Anthony’s face so obviously that had us all going crazy! Including the cast and crew!

Anthony: [after the slap] “Oh. Wow. Uhhh, this person thinks they’re hilarious.” [laughs]

Cast & Crew: [laughing]

Ian: [Trying not to laugh]

Anthony: “Uhhh, who would do that? Who would caress my face and slap me out of nowhere?”

Ian: [boops Anthony’s nose]

Anthony: “Uh, it feels like an Ian move to me… Did you just boop me? Um, that feels like an Ian move.”

Kiana: “That is correct.”

Everyone: [celebrating and applauding]

Anthony: [puts his hands out and Ian high-fives him]

Angela: “Friendship always wins!”

Ian: “Well done. Well done. Good job to you.”

Anthony: [bowing]

Ian: “There we go. There we go. That’s the only one you truly needed to get right.”

Anthony: [laughs]

So true Ian! That was the most important one he needed to get right! And I just want to point out how Ian was only the 3rd person Anthony got right, and of course he knew it was him right away with his cheeky little joke of “this person thinks they’re hilarious” 😝 he knew the second Ian caressed his face that it was him cause they truly just know each other that well ☺️ Live for Angela yelling “Friendship always wins!” after he got it right too! And can we also talk about the totally unnecessary, but very, very cute little nose boop Ian threw in there just cause he wanted to! Obsessed!

A little bit later in the video during Duran’s round of slapping Anthony another little moment happened that I just wanted to include cause I thought that it was funny and showed how silly of a mood Ian was in, I think Anthony being blindfolded was playing a part in that and he gained a little extra layer of confidence to just fuck about with Anthony 😆

Anthony: [standing with his butt pushed out waiting to be slapped]

Kiana: “The stance is great. The stance is great.”

Ian: [runs over and pretends to go in to slap Anthony’s butt]

Anthony: “Why’s there wind?”

Cast & Crew: [laugh]

Hehe 🤭

Anyways! That was it for the slapping video but I did also want to include something that came off the back of it and that was…

Bonus

Anthony dedicating a whole Instagram post to Ian slapping him :-

Obessed with this though! The fact he went out of his way to make a post specifically about Ian slapping him over anyone else, plus that caption! ‘only ian would slap me like that’ - truly the cherry on top of it all 😌

Jacksfilms Confesses His Biggest Regret

So they had Jacksfilms on as a guest for Flashback to react to some of his old videos and an old collab of his the boys had been a part of.

Jack: [talking about how he moved to LA after he graduated] “…And that’s when I started collaborating with some, then, very big YouTube channels.”

Anthony: [looks at Ian] “Yeah, back then we were big.” [elbows Ian and Ian elbows him back]

Them just being silly 😄 loved the little elbowing of each other too 😊

Jack: “I remember I was in college, I was like out hanging with my friends. I just got 50,000 subs on YouTube, baby. And one of my friends just like took the air right out of my tire, or sails, whatever, and was like ‘Uh, yeah, did you know that Smosh has like a million now?’.”

Ian: “Pffft.”

Anthony: [silent laughs] “Noice!” [high-fives Ian] “Noice!”

Again, just more of them being silly. Plus high-five!

I should have mentioned at the start of this section that Ian is in a tshirt-dress for this video as a reference to Jack as it’s got tweets of his printed on it. Anyway, as a result his legs are out obviously, and that’s relevant to this next part :-

Anthony: [talking about how there’s always an audience for every kind of content, it’s just about what kind of audience you want to have]

Ian: “That’s true. And you want this audience.” [pointing to show off his legs]

Anthony: “You want this.”

Ian: “You want the audience that accepts this.”

Anthony: “This is what you want. This is the audience that we have. And we are very happy with this audience.”

Ian: “Exactly.”

Anthony: “They’ve been begging for this.”

And we’re more than happy to be the audience for it! 😌 (As is Anthony considering how many times he was checking out Ian’s legs during this video 😉)

Anthony also had this to say about YouTube’s hate for Ian’s attire 😤

Jack: [talking about a sponsorship he done with other youtubers to test out a new workout program]

Ian: “Did you get Jaaaacked?”

Anthony: [looks at Ian with a smirk and high-fives him]

Second high-five for this video! Also Anthony just quietly complimenting Ian’s pun 😄

Ian: “Do you [Jack] have any regrets? Any videos that you regret making?” [smiling]

Anthony: “You look so happy saying that.” [smiling] “This is happiest I’ve seen you all episode.” [laughs]

Just thought it was cute how Anthony seeing Ian smiling made him smile and laugh 😊

And that was it for another Flashback!

No1 Ian Fan Strikes Again

So Anthony was back at it! The Smosh team was out celebrating one of the crews birthday - Erin posted this to her story. Now I’m sure there were probably multiple photos and videos taken this night but what was the only thing Anthony shared from it? That’s right! Ian of course!

He’s obsessed with that boy and I love it! 😌

Ian also reshared and replied to Anthony’s story which you can find here

Making Of “MrBeast Copycats Have Gone Too Far”

So the BTS of the MrBeast Copycats Have Gone Too Far sketch offered us a few little moments :-

So this seemed to be a very high-five, hand-hold heavy BTS. Think they were just in one of those moods where they want any excuse to touch each other 🤭😉

[Finishing off their little video introduction]

Anthony: [goes in to high-five Ian and grips his hand]

Ian: [high-fives Anthony back and also grips his hand in response]

I&A: [still holding each other’s hands] “Let’s go shoot this shit!”

Ian: [messing up his line] “I’m having a trouble! I’m having a trouble…” [facepalms]

Shayne: “That’s so funny. ‘I’m having a trouble’.”

Anthony and Courtney: [laughing]

Anthony: [to Ian] “Are you having a trouble?” [puts hand on Ian’s shoulder]

Ian: “I’m having a trouble. Words.”

Anthony: [laughs]

I know they were (lovingly) poking fun at Ian here, but the wee glimpse of the shoulder touch from Anthony to Ian is what got me ☺️

I&A: [In character but joking around]

Ian: “There’s a twist. There’s a twist.” [puts hand out to Anthony] “There’s a twist.”

Anthony: “There’s a twist.” [takes Ian’s hand and grips it]

I&A: [still holding hands whilst lightly pushing/tapping each other and repeating “there’s a twist”. They then start scissoring their fingers together, before gripping each other’s fingers and pulling the other in closer to them whilst now repeating “getting twisted” and manically laughing]

Well… that was… something… 👀

Told you they were just looking for any excuse to touch each other. But hey, wouldn’t be a Smosh BTS if Ian and Anthony weren’t flirting with each other 😜

And to finish off this high-five heavy BTS, I’ll leave you with this :-

Ian: [talking about how Anthony injured himself by dropping a laptop on his foot and how he should take an Advil but Anthony doesn’t take Advil so he doesn’t know if it’ll help]

Anthony: “I don’t care about the pain, I just want the throbbing to stop.”

Ian: “He doesn’t like throbbing.”

Anthony: “I don’t like throbbing. I like pulsating.”

Ian: [laughs] “I hate both of those words.”

Anthony: [laughs] “Yeah, usually I say throbbing or pulsating member…”

Ian: [acting disgusted]

Anthony: “Speaking of members thank you so much being a Smoshtastic or Smosh Royalty member!”

Ian: “Yeah! Thanks for being our throbbing members.” [laughs]

Anthony: “Our pulsating members.”

Ian: “Yeahhh, throbbing members.”

I&A: [high-five]

Um… thanks boys, I guess… happy to be a throbbing and pulsating member… 🥴🤦‍♀️ They high-fived so I had to include it, don’t blame me for what they said! 😩

And on that’s note that brings us to the end of January! Hope you all enjoyed reading - I’d say it was a very good start to the year in terms of content, and the boys very much delivered in terms of complimentary moments so can’t complain 😌

Thank you all again for reading and I shall see you next time! 💖

#feel I say this every month but sorry this took me so long to get out for you guys 🫣#appreciate your patience!#but anyways hope you enjoyed the compliments for another month 😊#ianthony compliments #ianthony #☀️🔍#ian hecox #anthony padilla #smosh #my posts

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gumnut-logic · 3 months

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Ice

An idea I had in mind for FishTank Week but didn't manage to do anything with. Also, an attempt to write anything, just anything.

Rambly brothers out on the ice.

-o-o-o-

Ice.

Ice is water.

Rather ironic that the substance he loved so much was so capable of becoming that which he hated with an equal passion.

Ice had taken his mother. Stolen his chance to ever get to know her, yet leaving him with just enough to know the terror and pain of the days that followed.

He remembered the tears, his family’s pure anguish, the loss that echoed down silent halls in a home that had nothing but sunshine all the times before.

The scars that built up and festered over the years.

All because of ice.

But it was simply water. It didn’t think, only existed and was as innocent as any other rock on this watery planet.

Yet a nemesis it remained as he watched his older brother tackle his own demons.

“Virg, you okay?”

His heavy lifting brother turned towards him, his specialised boots crunching on the snowy surface of Lake Baikal. His raised eyebrow was far too predictable.

“Yeah, why?”

Gordon turned back to packing the pod.

Thunderbird Two was a mere green dot far off in the distance on the lake shore.

“You took your helmet off.”

“My nose was itchy.”

Gordon snorted. “Now that is worse than the last excuse Scott gave you.” He deepened his voice enough to give an uncanny resemblance to Virgil’s. “Would you do that in space? No? Then don’t do it here!”

That earned him a glare enough to melt the metres thick ice they were standing on.

“Hey, you said it, not me.”

The fact Virgil only grumbled and shoved his helmet back on rather than lighting Gordon’s pants on fire with a safety lecture was just proof that his big brother was feeling the mood.

Because it was a mood.

The landscape was eerily silent.

Not an absence of sound. More the monotone of the sharp breeze cutting across the flat wildness of the deepest lake in the world.

It was winter, cue the ice, but winter in Siberia on a lake many kilometres wide and long, and with the surface water frozen solid, it was a desert of white and blue-greys.

Such the opposite of the bright tropical island they called home.

Gordon returned to loading equipment back into the pod. The fishermen had been saved, Gordon hauling them out, not even needing Four this time, his girl still curled up snug inside her sister on the far shore.

It had been ever so fortunate that they had been close when the accident happened, flying home from London. It had only taken them a minute or two to drop the pod onto the ice with the ice cutter, and Gordon was in the water, so far down, pulling the men to safety.

Virgil had airlifted them all out and then returned, dropping himself onto the ice to help pack up.

Gordon was ever grateful for Thunderbird Five’s valet service where Two was too heavy to land right on the spot.

And really? Just grateful for his brothers as well.

“So, you wanna do pizza tonight?”

“Sure.” His brother didn’t look up.

Virgil was rolling up rope in such a fast and perfect coil Gordon was both admiring and annoyed. He shoved the hatch closed over the tangle of coils of his own making. Goddamned genius brothers, it was enough to give a guy a complex.

“We could do a movie.”

“It’s Alan’s turn.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Gordon bit his lip. Okay, challenge accepted. At least Alan was easier to persuade than Scott. Or Johnny. Johnny picked the weirdest movies and was unpredictable as hell.

As for Virgil, his tank brother was little more than putty in his hands. Gordon knew his Virgil and knew exactly which buttons to press to get the results he needed.

“Try for a few less zombies this time. I want to be able to eat my dinner without regurgitating it.”

“You’re just a wimp.”

A fistful of snow clipped his helmet.

“Be careful what you start, Tankman, because I’m going to finish it.”

“You wish.”

Gordon bent down and gathered some snow into his hands. “Virg-“

He was interrupted by a sharp crack.

He froze.

The sound vibrated in the cold air and bounced across the ice.

The silence that followed was punctuated by his heart beat. “What was-“

But Virgil was looking directly at him, his arms suddenly out, eyes wide with disbelief.

And fear.

Another snap, another crack, splintering blurring them together.

His brother stumbled.

“Virgil?!”

But the ice groaned, rumbled…and moved. A visible crack split up the snow between the two of them.

“Virgil!”

He held up a hand. “Gordon, no!” Virgil’s eyes were on the ice beneath him, his perfectly aligned coils of rope unfurling to one side as the surface they were sitting on tilted.

Virgil moved, leaping towards Gordon.

But water spouted up between them and before Gordon could react, the ice tipped up on end before flipping entirely.

And his brother was gone.

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #gordon tracy #virgil tracy #fishtank #nuttyfic #just to write anything #anything at all

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sea-salted-wolverine · 2 months

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No one should ever go to Kasilof. It is a terrible place with terrible weather and overflowing porta potties and overstuffed dumpsters with child snatching and dogfighting and some crazy guy swinging a sword that got shot by the cops. Awful stuff really. Best avoided. Just not worth the bother.

That was the gist of the news stories leading up to the kasilof sockeye runs this year it was no issue at all to find a camping spot and it wasn't nearly as crowded so I totally agree with the mainstream media on this one. It's a den of vice and iniquity. Stay away. The rent lowering gunshots clipped a reporter.

So this year we went down with a largish caravan of 4 family's worth of people and junk and a limit of 170 fish to catch. We're soo good at planning and logistics that this went off with no hitch and no arguments (lying). Since we also had a very pregnant lady and excited 2 year old who would not be fishing but were still counted towards the limit we planned on being there for a while, at least 3 days if not more. We also had the damn dog.

So at least I was planning on a few days of chill fishing and a long slog. My brother in law left an hour or so early with his girlfriend and had one job, to find us a good spot to descend upon and set up our camp. They did not do this. One job. The fishing was hot so they didn't even really bother to park, we pulled up on his truck kinda packed off to the side of the road and he was down in the water with a pile of fish on the beach because he didn't even have a cooler ready.

So by the time we bitched him out, found a campsite, set up camp and squared everything away, it was approaching midnight. This is normal, you fish the tides as they come and its not like it gets dark so wandering the beach all night long is expected so long as you're considerate of those trying to sleep.

But then.

My Sunshineman brought his boat. I knew he brought his boat, I was in fact the one arguing that he needed to do things like park and set up camp rather than do exactly what his brother did and throw himself into the river as soon as he saw fish coming in, while neglecting those little things like, food and sleep. But since we were done setting up, he wanted to go fishing from his boat. At midnight.

I had been up early that morning to do terrible things in the bilge of a different, much larger boat that resulted in fun colored bruises on my ribs and sore shoulders, so I wasn't particularly feeling the vibe on this one. I helped launch the boat and then bowed out to go pass out in a pile of blankies in the sand.

In the time it took two set up camp and launch the boat Adak, the dog, managed to get into a fight and have his face ripped up. He is huge and he is stupid but he doesn't take shit but he was on leash while the other dog was running loose, so the impulse was to pull him back, if he had been left to his own we probably would have gotten away with out anyone getting bit.

He's fine and chicks dig scars but its indicative that I had no idea this happened 25 yards away from me until adak came up to me and smeared his face all over my pants. My pants already had engine grease, bilge slime, grass stains, fish guts, coffee, mud, sand and a few baby boogers on them so what's a little dog blood too?

So yea, not my circus, not my monkeys, in tent, pants off, pjs on, cozy bitch in the blankies, out like a light, nothing better than sleeping on the beach.

Except for the fact that your husband wakes you up at 2 AM asking for help.

I'm convinced he kept it vague on purpose.

I'm up. I'm out of the tent. I'm still in my pj's. I have my drysuit on over top. My waders have a hole in them. It is, I cannot stress this enough, 2 AM.

The boat is a 16 foot mil surplus zodiac with a 40 horse Johnson, if you care about that sort of thing. It gets nice comments from people who do care. We usually run one person to drive, 2 to work the nets, and one optional person to handle fish as they come in. Sunshine went out with our 2 friends who AFAIK crawled off the boat and directly into bed after 2 solid hours of midnight deathmatch fishing, because I watched them stumble out of the boat and didn't see them again until breakfast. The boat was entirely full of fish. THEY CAUGHT 49 FISH IN LESS THAN 2 HOURS. Kasilof reds are usually smaller than Kenai reds but there must have been a secondary run because half were the average 6 or 7 pound fish and the rest were something like 10 lbs each.

At some point sunshine must have woken up his brother because he materialized from somewhere and we got the fish out of the boat into a cooler so we could drag them up to clean them. Then came the thing that we're all still more than a smidge irritated about. Sunshine went back out in the boat, by himself, to go get more fish while BIL and I cleaned the ones he had just brought back. We couldn't even yell at him because a good chunk of the beach was asleep.

So at about 4 am the sky has decided to shift from twilight to morning and I am sitting on a cooler of gutted fish in a superbly uncomfortable drysuit having a moment of perfect communication with the bald eagle sitting on the light pole at the end of the dock. We would both enjoy breakfast, preferably of fish. But it is four fucking am in the morning. And we should both be alseep. Breakfast is not a meal best enjoyed at 4 am. A nap sounds best.

Sunshine comes back with 3 more fish. I honestly do not remember what happened to those fish. Either I gutted them or he gutted them or maybe they got raptured into fishy heaven, (which looks suspiciously like the inside of a cooler) I legitimately do not know, because I think my REM cycle was starting up again.

I get a hand to haul the cooler back to camp. I peel out of the dry suit and was asleep back in my cozy sleeping bag blanket pile before Sunshine even made it to the tent.

At something like, idk, 6am, someone started splitting wood. loudly. I was awake enough to identify that it was near, and probably not a problem and I distinctly remember making the semi conscious decision to sleep through it. At about this point my phone died and for the rest of this trip I had no idea what time it was. I intended to take pictures and document things and whatnot and that just did not happen. The phone stayed dead and my hands stayed busy.

I woke up last, presumably because the demon that compels my mother-in-law to get up at 5 AM every morning had already woken everyone up with the wood splitting. She was toasting breakfast burritos, and it wasn't as if I had slept through the whole morning because I wasn't even the last to get a burrito.

My FIL made a joke that at least one of us got a full 8 hours and BIL earned back all his brownie points by jumping in to defend me unprompted. She was indeed up at ungodly hours playing with knives and dead fish. How dare you impune her honor simply because she looks so dewy fresh after sleeping in the dirt?

I did at least get the chance to put a net in the water from the beach but we were limited out by 1pm. That's enough fish fast enough that we were dumping out food and drinks coolers because we planned on freeing up space as we went. So I had our camp that we had intended to stay in for as long as a week broken down and hundreds of pounds of fish gutted and iced in a few hours. While drinking, because we had several days worth of food and drinks and beers that had been displaced by fish. The solstice vodka lemonade from matanuska brewing is great btw.

We had planned to overlap the end of our trip with the beginning of my mom and sister coming down so we could fish together, so I called mom as were were leaving the beach. From Sunshineman's phone of course, mine being dead at the bottom of a bag somewhere. As the current time was something like 16 hours from when we arrived, she assumed I forgot something or was just calling to tell her about the nice weather, or terrible weather, or confirming the news report's porta potty horror story. She didn't expect us to pull in a years worth of food in a single tide cycle.

So we get home without incident, and get to cleaning and fileting and packing and labeling at, some, late, evening time, maybe? I'm time blind on a good day and if I had a watch it would be covered in fish slime.

So yeah, this year's fish camp was condensed into a single solid slug of dense firey whatthefuckFISHfishFISHcleanpackgutgohome. Niece creature didn't want to change our of pj's so she wore the same outfit for her entire trip which is spectacular from a laundry standpoint because a toddler given free reign to a muddy fishy beach goes about as well as expected. She had a ball and then napped through almost the entire cleaning and packing process when we got home, which is what I wanted to do but instead I fileted triple digits worth of fish.

Mom went down later for the weekend and she got rained on for 3 days and caught 7 fish and a flounder. We caught the hot run and came home with fish but at what cost?

#wolverine warbles #from the far north #Fish camp #Salmon #Fishing #Dipnetting #2024 #Sockeye #Alaska

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mancer-in-the-abbey · 2 months

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This coding course is kicking my ass, have some general ghoul headcanons, one for each of them

Phantom/Aeon: New Bug, as ever, strikes me as a “fake it till you make it” kind of guy. As such, it kinda makes me feel like he’d be a theater kid if given the chance, and although I think he’d get a kick out of musicals (Phantom of the Opera, ha ha), I think specifically he’d be into improv. Like, there is no chance his comfort show ISN’T Whose Line Is It Anyway. The minute someone introduced him to D&D, it’s over for everyone.

Aurora: I think she has a soft spot for classic opera pieces. It really lets her go all out in a technical sense, use her range to its fullest extent. It’s stereotypical, but her favorite aria is the Queen of the Night. It’s so damn fun to do this quick jumps in scale in such quick succession!

Sunshine: MASSIVE sweet tooth. Like, yes she knows her corporeal form is fragile and she needs to take care of it, and she does to some extent! She keeps very fit! But fuck if she doesn’t just devour a pound cake if she’s given the opportunity. Will absolutely get a hell of a stomach ache after, but in her mind it’s worth it. Hey, at least she takes good care of her teeth to match!

Rain: A fan of Dancing With The Stars! Though he himself is not known to be all that steady on his feet, he loves watching people who aren’t traditionally considered athletic be put into a professional dance setting and either crash and burn or get better over time. He honestly doesn’t care about the celebrity aspect in the least, barely pays attention to the slice-of-life interviews before the dances themselves, but MAN does he love to pick apart someone’s performance and try to guess what the judges will give before the scores are announced.

Cumulus: Wasn’t initially a gamer, she more preferred to watch those who were have fun in the ghoul common room, but she didn’t have much else to do during the pandemic so… yeah, she just CONSUMED everything Rain sent her way. Animal Crossing, Stardew Valley, Portal and Portal 2x Hades, the entire Resident Evil franchise up to that point, even DOOM Eternal funny enough. She’s kept up with since then, but still has massive fondness for Animal Crossing.

Cirrus: Loves gem stones and precious metals! She has a real crow instinct but is kinda picky about it, like she’ll get fixated on a shiny gold hair clip with rinestones on it but if it feels too cheep in her hands she’ll lose interest entirely. Even still, her jewelry collection is LARGE. One expensive magpie, that woman, but she shares with the other ghouls if they ask so it evens out.

Swiss: It doesn’t fully mesh with go-to interpretation of him but I once read a headcanon that posited Swiss being able to replicate sounds to an uncanny degree and I am bringing it back here because I love it so damn much, kinda plays into being a little bit of every ghoul. I like to think if you startle Swiss he’ll forget to use his normal voice and just goes straight to the sound effects board. Phantom accidentally pops in from nowhere? Sudden air horn blast. Dew tackling him to the ground? The sound of a car going past you. Mountain stepping on his tail? Fire alarm. Someone kicks him in the balls? Microphone feedback. For a while.

Mountain: He likes eating rocks and precious metals. It’s already a thing with some subsets of earth ghoul, but like for Mountain it’s at a higher level. His preferred snack is those semi-precious rocks you get at tourist attractions, he will just chow down on it like popcorn. When that’s not available, however, he uses salt to sate the the itch. Dude keeps a salt lamp in his room that he uses as a salt lick when no one’s looking. This also extends to novelty items MADE of salt. Those Himalayan salt shot glasses? One-use only. Go straight into his mouth.

Aether: One of those tricks Omega showed him during era 3 is how to use your own quintessence on yourself, something generally considered to be very hard to do amongst quint ghouls. Aether has tweaked and expanded on this ability and has learned how to… basically hotbox but with quintosis. Not something he does often cause it’s draining but sometimes it’s nice to unwind on a near molecular level. Among the few he shares this ability with are Dew, Mountain, and Swiss. He’ll teach the new bug when he feels he’s ready for that kind of power…

Dewdrop: is actually a really good cook! Like really good, actually. He got really into watching Food Network when he first came to Earth which evolved into watching older cooking shows. This further evolved into experimenting with his own recipes. He’s also taught Mountain everything he knows about how to handle the kitchen, so they tend to share cooking duty between the two of them. No one’s complained yet!

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crabsnpersimmons · 8 months

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Tally

had this idea for a drabble to share a bit more on Moon’s upgrades in the hairdresser AU, since there was some interest about a certain detail mentioned in my previous post (that "last part")

Word Count: 1,567

Read time: ~8 min

some content warnings:

descriptions of body dysmorphia including descriptions of skin picking, which borderline self harm on a metal robot body—i took a lot of creative liberties to translate the signs and symptoms into a robot experience, so it isn’t meant to be the most realistic depiction of body dysmorphia disorder, but just a head's up just in case

descriptions of memories of past traumatic experiences

just angst overall

that’s all i can think of, but please let me know if there’s anything you’d like me to add!

“Home sweet home~!” Eclipse warbles once Moon opens the door to their small apartment. Without missing a beat, he bends down and slips through the door frame, with his precious cargo still on his back.

“Clip! Put me down first!” Sun cries from his position in their little piggyback. He scrunches himself closer to the taller bot’s back as they pass through the threshold, his sunken in rays only barely missing the top of the door frame.

Moon chuckles as Eclipse makes a bee-line for their box TV. It’s the same every day, but he never got tired of it. After closing up shop for the day, they returned home. Unfortunately Sun’s legacy code prevented him from moving about in the dark. That didn’t stop him from trying each night after closing—marching with his eyes glued to street lamps until he ran out of light. Then Eclipse would carry him the rest of the way to the bus stop, where he’d just stay until they got returned to their apartment. The lights of the hallways would stir Sun back awake, but Eclipse always insisted on carrying him the rest of the way to their door—just as he always had since their days in the daycare.

Different city, different space, different jobs—but Eclipse never seemed to change.

Still carrying Sun with one set of arms, he plops himself down in front of the TV and pulls out his game controller with other set. Once Sun extracts himself, his free hands immediately reach for the other controller.

As the old game system is booting up, Moon moves to make a quiet escape.

“Moon,” but Sun knew him too well. “Bedroom.”

There is a whir of fans before Moon responds, “Aye aye, captain.”

No sooner had Moon entered their bedroom that Sun had joined him. Their room was always small—they could only afford so much with their combined income—but it always felt smaller when the sunshine bot cornered him like this.

Silently, Moon turns around, not looking his counterpart in the eye. Instead, Sun extends his hand into his field of vision, waiting. This is not the first time, but it never gets easier for either of them. After a beat, Moon lifts his own bulky hand and places it in Sun’s slender palm. Sun gives him a gentle squeeze before rolling up his counterpart’s sleeve to reveal his blue arm, marked in fine silver trails.

There is a brief pause before Sun leads Moon to their ensuite bathroom and sits him down on the closed seat of the toilet. He looks away for a brief moment just to take out his amateur tools from the drawer. Just a collection of things he has scavenged for basic upkeep. Of course none of this was in his programming. But just as he resolutely marched under streetlamps, Sun pushed his code to its limits to keep them afloat. He sits down on a nearby stool and gets to work on Moon’s right arm where six thin trails shined against the royal blue.

He gets to work and there is silence between them. Before there used to be angry and desperate cries. When Sun discovered his first scar, he insisted he go to parts and services. But they both knew he wouldn’t go back there. Never.

So they had to improvise—and that is what they have always excelled at. Things got easier in that regard after the PizzaPlex had burned down. They could finally leave those walls, leave their troubled past, carve out lives for themselves, care for themselves. They lucked out finding the Boss when they did and now they can do honest work and get paid and live. Finally live.

But still their troubled past stains their new lives. The PizzaPlex may be a long forgotten memory, but they still bear scars and quirks that run deeper than chipped surface paint or legacy processes. Despite all these years in this body, Moon still bumps into things, miscalculating his size and reach. All it took was a bump against his utility cart this afternoon to make him acutely aware of the arm that is not his. The ball-joint neck that cannot move the way he wants it to. The clunky fingers and the foreign nails. They are not his. They are not his. And he is thrust back into the brightly light cylinder, waking up again to a body that isn't his. Waking up again to a role he never asked for. Waking up with piece of him missing. Wondering if the body he remembers is just a dream and he needed to learn to wake up, wake up, wake up--

“You’ve got to stop doing this.”

Sun’s voice breaks him out of his thoughts—and he knows this. Perhaps that’s why Sun is always nagging him. To fill his head with something useful again.

“Some of these scratches can’t be buffed out, and there’s only so much I can do,” Sun works on a light scratch on his left hand.

“And you won’t see a mechanic,” Sun tuts.

“No.”

“I know,” Sun sighs, letting go of the scratch. It’s barely visible now, the kind of imperfection you would have to know about and intentionally look for. The kind that Moon keeps a tally of. His body is covered with tally marks that only he can see.

“But either you stop or I will take you to the mechanic… or,” Sun’s hands drift down to Moon’s hand, holding his fingers gently. “…I disable your retractable claw function.”

“Ha,” the short laugh spills out of Moon before he can think to stop it. “Not when I’m the only one who can give proper hair washes.”

There is a slight pause before Sun pulls his hands away and lightly knocks Moon’s head. “Well, if your claws are sharp enough to carve metal, I don’t want them anywhere near our customer's heads. Besides, we have Sunshine who can help with that now.”

Moon hums uncommittedly, staring at Sun's handiwork at erasing his. Out of the corner of his eye he notices a sway in Sun’s steps as he puts away his tools. As much as Sun pushes his code to the limits and watches over him, Moon also watched out for him. They were, after all, once one. No one knows them better than they do.

Moon’s hand rises up Sun’s arm. “Bed time?”

“Yeah,” Sun says wearily. Even with the lights on, his battery was running low, after a full day of work, walking under street lamps, and fixing Moon's mistakes. The least Moon can do is play this role—a role he gladly performs.

Moon nods as he reaches out to steady Sun before connecting to their shared internal chat.

M: Clip. Sun and I are going to sleep.

E: K.

S: Don’t stay up too late. Make sure you charge up.

E: K.

With that, Moon helps Sun to their bed. They could only afford a one-bedroom apartment, and even then their landlord definitely wasn't too keen about renting to three large robots, and their lack of credit history. It was only thanks to a referral from Boss that they landed the place. But they couldn't complain. There are robots, the don't really need to sleep in bedrooms, but they had one so they might as well use it.

Moon assists Sun into bed before stepping back to get the lights. He watches as Sun plugs in his charging cable in before lying down on the pillows. His eyes never leave Sun’s as darkness falls on the room.

There is the familiar whirring sound of gears moving as rays retract and metal shifts colour. If Moon closes his eyes, he could almost feel those gears in himself. Grinding away. Putting Sun in his nap. And him waking from his own slumber. Him coming alive. Waking in his own body.

S: Moon.

There he goes, filling his head again. Even when powered down, Sun still watches over him. Moon hums in response and shuffles to the bed. His eyes never leave Sun as the bed dips from the added weight, as he slots himself up next to Sun. One arm slips under the gap between his neck and the bed. The other goes over, holding him in place. His legs find their place behind the bend of Sun’s.

His upper hand rubs circles on the familiar surface. Where these hands had left scratches on blue metal, they now caressed the smaller yellow surface.

Different city, different space, but at least he can still hold his body. Although it is not the same colour, it still feels like he remembers. The slenderness of the forearms. Every fine joint in the long fingers. He pulls Sun closer, if only to be closer, if only to be himself again.

But a hard pressure against his chest stops him every time.

Behind layers of clothes, the inflexible metal underneath always keeps them apart. Never flush together when they are in this position. It will always be there to jab into his chest every time he tries.

A reminder of how far he’s fallen.

thank you for reading!

want something to cheer you up? go and check out the meme art i shared yesterday! Moon is there to hug that sad away!

want more heartbreak? look verrrry closely at moon's arms in that meme art (or if it's hard to see the image description in the ALT mentions it)

#fnaf moon #fnaf dca #dca fandom #New Do Same You AU #hairdresser au #oh man my hands are so cold i'm nervous #i don't usually share my writing #but this is good practice if i want to write and share the full fic eventually #so i hope you like it!#don't worry sun and eclipse have their own fair share of trauma #and with trauma there will eventually be triumph even just the smallest bit there will be #might share a silly drabble next to balance out this one!#we'll see we'll see!#crab writes

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zzzykiek · 3 months

Text

Play it Sweet

2p!Alastor x Human Diabetic Fem!OC

TW: toxic workplace, noncon touch, manipulation

2P alastor Originates from: https://www.tumblr.com/anic-mj/627521842542936064/2palastorblueberry?source=share

No Smut this chapter, but Minors still DNI please. Enjoy!

5_____________________________Close Observation.

Al lets you go. (No, come back!) He spins into the shadows. (What? where?)

You feel his lips ghost over your ear. “Miss me?” Al had, in mere seconds, transitioned to his human form without so much as a sound, appearing behind you, which causes you to jump and drop your towel. (Well, that's not the way to defend yourself.) He begins laughing at your startled state. “I hope you don't mind, but I perused your wardrobe and picked out your outfit.”

“You were gone for like two seconds, how the…?”

He skips towards the door and turns in a flourishing bow, “Power, my sunshine, I do have an image to uphold, after all.”

Crossing your arms, you can’t help but reveal a tad bit of snark as you remind him, “Al, I've wiped your tears away multiple times. Why do you feel the need to show off for me?”

“That is e-exactly wh-why.” His features soften as he breaks eye contact. His hands search desperately for something to cling to before landing on the lapels of his coat.

He didn't need to explain any more. You immediately understood his line of thought. The idea of this powerful being desiring to impress you sends an unexpected spark through your body as you let your gaze begin to admire his own outfit choice for the day. A royal blue suit with a white linen shirt underneath. (I feel like one of those cartoons with the hearts coming off of them…)

He hooks a finger under your chin. “Keep looking at me like that and we will be late, my sunshine.” You are helpless to hide the shiver caused by him calling you that little nickname. He smiles wide and then leads you out to show you the outfit he had chosen. Black slacks with a royal blue chiffon top. Your favorite hair clip was sitting there as well, a bright enamel and rhinestone sunflower. “I couldn't resist that piece…It m-made me h-happy.” He admits while nuzzling into your hair.

“It is my favorite for a reason.” You respond wistfully, looking over as he rests his chin on your still bare shoulder, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Al,” you draw out his name playfully, “If you hold me like this, we will be late for sure.” He sighs and plants a tiny kiss on your neck, which sends sparks through your whole body before he slowly removes himself from the embrace.

Finally dressed, he helps you tie the bow at the neck of your blouse then runs his fingers through your hair, twisting and clipping half of it into the sunflower. You look at yourself and adjust the sleeves, your eyes falling on the very obvious bite mark from the morning's activities.

“Sadly, it is best to keep that to ourselves, for now anyway.” He winks at you and pulls the kerchief from his breast pocket. He ties it around your wrist while he leans in to whisper “By the end of the week, there will be no doubt that you are MINE.” His growl at the end makes your body react as your free hand grabs at his coat. He laughs, planting a kiss on your now concealed wrist.

Glancing at the clock you groan, “I guess we should go.” Grabbing your purse, you spot the printed itinerary you never showed Al last night. (Whoops, got a bit distracted I guess.) With a giggle, you pass it over as you both get in your car. “Guess you should look at this so you're a step ahead of Cliff, considering I never put a copy on his desk.” You cringe a tad knowing that was going to bite you in the butt later.

“I will take the advantage, but we won't let him know that. For all he will know, you decided to wait and print them this morning.” Al glances at the plans and lets his free hand rest on your thigh, a move that doesn't seem conscious on his part. Humming in approval he hands the page back to you.

You sneak a look over at him with no attempt to hide the mischievous look plastered on your face. “I fully expect you to go off script though, Al.”

His smile widens farther than it probably should as he turns his torso towards you, leaning his elbow on the dash. “I-I think you c-can read my mind sometimes.”

You almost choke at the irony of his statement. “I was thinking the same thing last night. Guess we just make a good team.” Tandem chuckles fill the car as you pull into the library parking lot.

You can already spy your boss leering at the two of you arriving together. His scowl deepens as Al opens your door and helps you out of the vehicle, before linking arms and escorting you towards him..

“Clifford! Wonderful morning! I am so excited to see the detailed workings of a library. I understand it's more than just books.” Al offers his unoccupied hand to your boss, who quickly sets his jaw into a smile and heartily shakes it.

“And I am equally excited to get our little library’s important work highlighted.” Cliff grits out, ready to turn the conversation in his favor. (No way I am going to allow that.)

“Of course it's not just for our little library, sir! Al’s segment will help bring awareness to libraries all over the United States!” You finish your statement with both arms clasped around Al’s and a slight hop. Al shoots over a glance of appreciation at your enthusiasm.

“Oh of course Sunni, but I can't help but be proud that our community will be the ones to share their voice.” (Why does he always have to call me that….)

“I couldn't think of a better voice to share!” Al says, obviously referring to you, causing your cheeks to flush.

“Well of course! I wouldn't have picked just anyone as my PR manager!”

“The best choice you could make, sir.”

You choke back a laugh at Al’s efforts to beat Cliff at his own game. You add the nail in the coffin by cutting in before your boss can respond. “Gentlemen, I do apologize for not getting the itineraries out yesterday. I caught some small tweaks that needed to be made, let me get them printed and we can begin the tour! Al, you can keep your bag in my office when you are not needing it.”

“Perfect! Lead the way, darling.”

Cliff moves and opens the front door for you, smirking as Al is forced to let go of your arm as you make your way through the doorway into the lobby. You can see the eyes of a few of your coworkers ogling Al as he walks behind you, hands gripped tightly on the strap of his bag now that he isn't holding your arm. You catch a glimpse out of the corner of your eye of him smiling but avoiding eye contact with everyone as you move through the establishment. Arriving at your office, you hang your purse on a hook and indicate its twin for Al to hang his.

Al takes in the decor of your office, noting the vase of sunflowers that are at the end of their days. Cliff enters and comes to your side, placing his hand on the back of your chair. You feel a quick prick of static, indicating Al’s complete dislike of the current situation. After fussing with your computer for a few moments, the printer comes to life spitting out your plans.

PR Visit - Evening Tea

Day 1

Tour and relevant staff introductions -Clifford and Sunnifa

Library arrangement and basics -Sunnifa

Open observation - no specific staff needed

Debrief - Clifford, Sunnifa, and Heather

“Who is Heather, dear?” Al asks after reviewing the document.

“Our assistant director. She has been a librarian for longer than anyone else here, making her a great resource for your interviews. She won't be in until this afternoon though.”

“Excellent! A veteran of the craft. I will have to plan a double length interview with her, getting history through first hand sources is always preferred.”

Cliff snorts. “She is hardly worth your time Al, we need to get the view of the relevant community out, not the tales of an old timer.”

“Nonsense!” Al actually looks hurt by his statement. “I would have never attained my current standings in radio without speaking with every veteran broadcaster I had the honor to meet. Studying the history of—and the science behind—radio broadcasting is how I got to the point I am today! As I said, nothing beats first hand experience. Speaking of, I know Sunnifa has been working in Libraries for 5 years now. Where does your experience lie, my good man?” (Wow, he really knows what he is talking about)

“Well this is my second year in Libraries, but I have been working for the people since I graduated.” Cliff hooks his thumbs under his lapels like he just gave the most impressive statement.

“Hmm, well I'll save the rest of my questions for our interview. I do believe we have a tour to do!” Al turns and offers you his arm.

“Indeed we do! There is a surprising amount of ground to cover here.” You happily slip into his offer. “Cliff, sir, I will let you lead the way for this. I will fill in any additional info as needed.”

Cliff is all too eager to take the reins of the tour. Cliff is in his own element, presenting all the physical facets of the library. (He is doing better than I expected.) He didn’t even skip over the history of the building. (I guess he figured that would impress Al) While Cliff is engaged in his show, you can't help but catch all the looks and whispers pointed at Al and you. You know most of the staff are under the impression there's some sort of thing going on between you and Cliff, despite you clearly stating otherwise. Seeing you on another's arm has rumors and questions swirling. You catch Al glance at you, questioning the reaction of those you pass. You flick your eyes to Cliff and see the understanding smack Al in the face as he snarls, pulling you closer to him. His voice from this morning echoes through your brain “MINE.”

You're brought back to the present by a rush of floral smelling breeze. There’s a skip to your steps as you pull Al out onto the roof. Full of pride, you announce, “This is my personal project!” Releasing Al, and you bound ahead to dance into the massive rooftop garden. “Good morning my plant babies!” Excitement drips from your greeting as you run around and connect with each plant.

“Sunnifa!” Your boss's voice is demanding. He hates the way you treat the plants like sentient beings, even though they are to you. “We are in the middle of a professional tour.”

“How can you curb her happiness sir? The view is simply exquisite!” Al is not looking at the garden when he says this. “Besides, plants are such an important part of life on earth. Did you know plants can hear you? It's been proven that talking to plants helps them grow!”

“Of course it does.” Cliff grumbles under his breath. You return from the other end of the roof, features downcast in response to your boss’s stern voice, with no clue of the exchange you missed. “Sorry, sir.” You see Cliff go to speak before Al cuts in.

“Whatever are you apologizing for, darling? This garden is breathtaking!” He picks a blueberry off a bush. “You could feed an army with all you have growing up here.” He tosses it in his mouth, humming out a complement to the taste.

“Well that's kind of what we do.” Your explanation is cut short as Cliff steals your spotlight.

“It is our biggest philanthropy endeavor! This garden is open to any hungry member of the community!” As he finishes his show, an obviously homeless older man comes out from the stairwell and begins pulling blueberries off the nearest bush. Cliff doesn't hide his grimace toward the new guest well.

“Hi Mr Stu!” You go over to the gentleman. “The cucumbers are ripe, and I just refilled the ranch in the community fridge. I know it is one of your favorites.” A small smile graces the gentleman’s face as he answers in a very hoarse voice.

“How do you remember details like that? Especially about little old me.”

“I just do, Mr Stu; I just do.” You respond in a sing-song voice, playing with the rhyme of the statement.

Cliff interrupts. “Well, we should be moving on to more relevant items for Al here to feature”

“Nonsense! This is prime content right here.” He softly walks over, approaching Stu with an air of respect. “Al, pleasure to meet you, quite a pleasure. I am a reporter for a popular radio station which will be featuring this library in an upcoming special. Would you mind sharing your story regarding this fine establishment and its staff?” Al nods to you. Stu’s expression first holds an air of worry, but he relaxes at the encouragement of your genuine smile.

“I would be honored, sir.” He shakes Al’s hand.

“How about we plan an open lunch tomorrow, and Mr. Stu can bring some other members of his community to speak to me.” Al’s eyes sparkle as both of you catch Cliff's look of absolute disgust.

“Al, as nice as that offer is, I was hoping to take you out for lunch tomorrow with the board.”

“Oh well we can do it Thursday, then. Knock out all the public interviews in one day. Does that work for you, Mr. Stu?”

“Oh, I can do whatever, I have nowhere else to be.” He shakes Al’s hand again, shooting a glare at Cliff before pulling All closer and dropping his voice. “Don't let that jerk fool you,”

“Oh, I have already seen right through him.” Al gives him a reassuring squeeze of the hand as he straightens back up sharing a knowing nod. “Thursday it is then! Bring as many friends as you can! I will make sure everyone leaves well fed and happy.”

You can tell your boss is ready to explode and you're not wanting to deal with that right now. “I could stay up here all day, but we should make our way back to the inner workings. Ms. Heather will be here any minute. I know you were excited to meet her, Al.”

“That's my girl! On top of things as always.” The flash of desire in his eyes as he focuses on you makes your skin crawl. (Ugh, I didn't shift things back for you dumbass) Both Al and Stu sneer at your yelp from Cliff grabbing your healing wrist to Lead the way to the elevator. (Why the hell are you squeezing so tight!)

As Cliff hits the button for the lobby, you see Al’s eyes flit between the stairwell and the elevator panel and can already anticipate his question. And you answer in a melancholic tone. “We had some trouble with our garden visitors making a mess in the elevator.”

“I am happy to help the community, but they get the level of respect they show.” Your boss’s tone lets you know not to say any more on the subject (for now). An awkward air settles as the elevator closes. “Sunni, we will have a moment to speak on the rest of these plans while Al meets Heather.” His voice is gruff and annoyed. You feel Al’s hand brush against your arm asking if he should step in.

“Sure, sir. Best to be on the same page” your uncomfortable but confident. You know it's not actually going to revolve around your plans. Al leans back against the wall of the elevator humming to the light tune playing from the speaker above his head.

“How long have you been in the radio biz, Al?”

“I've aspired to be a host all my life! My mother found me a toy microphone for my sixth birthday and I have been hosting my own shows ever since!”

“How about professionally?”

“I hopped in immediately after graduation! My town's local station took me in for an internship. I started hosting on my own about… seven years ago. Joined KMFDM three years ago and hit the ground running to bring The Evening Tea to life!” Al beams proudly at his story. You had gotten lost in his voice while listening.

“Is your radio show all talk or do you indulge in music as well?”

“Well I have been told people can listen to my voice all day, but my vocal cords would hate me if I did that, so I play a mix of old time jazz, it always boosts my spirits.”

“You don't seem old enough to be familiar with jazz.”

“Oh, my mother loved a good old swing around the living room. Those tunes take me right back there.”

“I see.” You can feel Cliff stiffen at the idea of this oddball youngin’ liking his music. Thankfully, the door opens, and your wrist gets released from his grip. You dare not completely escape his grasp at the moment as he hooks your arm with his and pulls you out of the elevator. Al’s footsteps quickly follow, a slight static embedded in each one. (I am used to this Al, though I guess I shouldn't be.)

You try to turn and catch his gaze, but Cliff pulls you forward, almost taking you off your feet, jaw clenched and eyes searching the office. “Heather! We have a special guest! Sunnifa got us some media coverage from a national radio broadcast. Al, I’ll let you do your thing while Sunni and I take care of some last minute details.” You catch Al’s gaze giving him a smile to let him know you can handle yourself. Al turns and you recognize his signature introduction to Heather as Cliff drags you into his office. He is fuming.

“What's the matter sir?” You pull your sweet, innocent voice out that you know causes him to go soft towards you.

“This host is getting under my skin, I understand you have known him for a while, but I do worry his focus is not going to show what we want in this broadcast.”

“What we want, sir?” You play the hurt kitten very well. It is the only way you have kept your boss in check.

His shoulders drop. “I know you love the garden, but it's hardly the focus you brought Al here for.” Cliff holds onto your shoulders and gets very close to your face. You catch his eyes dropping to your lips. (Shit, can he see where Al bit me this morning? Or is he just being his creepy self? Or both…? It’s probably both.) His form stiffens. “I also have to ask. What exactly is your relationship with Al, hun? You seem awfully close, for him being merely a business contact.”

“We haven't seen each other for two years, Sir, and my personal connection with Al is hardly any of your concern. He came here for business first and foremost. It is not like you are my father vetting my date for prom.” He hates you acknowledging your age difference by referring to him as a father figure, and you know it. “I have full confidence in Al and his skills to bring this broadcast to life. He will make sure he has all the information he needs. We have nothing to hide here do we, sir?” You let your tone drop, letting him know you could sense his desire to hide Stu and the homeless from the other staff and patrons.

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Of course not, Sunni.”

“You know I don't like being called that.”

Cliff sets his hand on your hip and steps in so close you can feel his nose on your cheek as he practically growls into your ear. “My apologies, sunshine.” Your stiff form attempts to recoil and you sputter at him stealing that name from Al, tears welling up at your lower lashes. Before you can respond, Heather's voice breaks the tension. “Eh-hem, am I interrupting something?” Her tone is firm and dripping with concern. You feel Al’s static, and know he just witnessed your boss's little stunt as well. Cliff moves faster than you have ever seen, stepping back as if he never invaded your space to begin with.

“Not at all, I was simply sharing how excited I am about this opportunity.”

You quickly exit the office, letting Al wrap his arm around your waist while nuzzling your cheek from outside of Cliff's view. Your body finally relaxes, and a few tears fall as you recover from the confrontation. Heather is quietly reprimanding Cliff; she has had her suspicions about Clifford’s attraction to you, but this is the first she has caught him acting on anything. Al meets your eyes, knowing not to say anything about what just happened, his look of concern and rage softening as he runs his fingers through your hair. You sigh and lean into his touch, forcing your boss’s voice out of your mind. (Talk Al; I need to hear you)

“Wonderful lady! Reminds me of my mother. She has invited us to lunch if you are up to it, my sunshine.” Gently leaning backwards, he reads your face before allowing you to answer.

“Of course, Al. I told you Heather is the backbone of this library. She dotes on all of her staff like a loving mother, puts us in our places too.” You laugh and look over as the conversation in the office reaches its end with Heather exiting and quickly embracing you.

“Sunnifa, are you alright, dearie? I swear Clifford needs to go back to etiquette school! Unlike this wonderful gentleman; I am surprised you’re letting him grace us with his presence. I would be locking this one away for myself!”

“Oh Heather I think you have that quite backwards.” Al’s arm returns to your waist as he gently guides you closer. You don't even think of it as you rest your head on him.

Heather claps. “Ohh, Suniffa, no one deserves such a gentleman more than you. You deserve some happiness in your life. I expect you can supply that young man.”

“How have I done so far, sunshine?” Al looks down at you.

You can feel your face burn at the implications Heather is tossing out, but you can only answer truthfully. “I have never been happier.” A look of surprise flashes in Al’s eyes before he redirects his attention back to Heather.

“Ohhhh! You will have to tell me all about things; come on we are going to lunch. Cliff will hold down the fort!” Heather ushers you toward the staff exit as you see Al look over his shoulder and can only imagine the look he gives your boss.

#alastor #alastor x reader #2p alastor #2p!alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #human alastor

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