#ugh. things would be better and things would be worse but I am happy and healthy and surrounded by love and I can’t dwell on shit that isn’t

[milo-is-rambling]

Out smoked my cousins,,, truly feeling like the hippy failure cousin that all the kids like but all the adults judge and like it’s great vibes I feel my cousins actually enjoy being around me (not even just that we’re smoking like they seem to legit enjoy talking to me)

[wolfiesmoon]

Hey I hope you are doing well when ever you are reading this but how do you think the 3rd year boys from twst would react to their s/o (gn reader) cuddling with a huge plush instead of them.

Like this.

Oh boy oh boy this kinda cures my writers block tbh, i have so many drafts but none of em look enticing enough to continue writing (´д｀|||)

I took out a few of the 3rd years bc its too many people for 1 fic but i might make a part 2 where i add the missing 3rd years at some point

i went with the more silly writing style again, hope that's fine by you ○( ＾皿＾)っ

𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖ Malleus Draconia

He doesn't exactly get why, but he feels kinda annoyed just laying next to you while you hug a big ol plushie

This doesn't feel right🫤

But then again, you look rlly happy and satisfied so he stays quiet since if you're happy, he's happy (he desperately wants to be in the plushy's place)

When you playfully kiss the plush though, that rule no longer applies. After all, his rightful spot is in your arms🫠

He nudges you. "Put the stuffed animal away."

"You sound angry." You smirk and kiss the plush again, knowing he's probably annoyed about that

without another word, he pulls the plushy out of your hands and settles down in its place

"I am a much better than that object. Just so you know." he smiled smugly, expecting a kiss on the cheek just like you gave to the plushie earlier

you kissed him on the lips instead just to see his eyes widen and his face go red ofc 😏

𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖ Leona Kingscholar

basically, it is NOT happening

"hell no." is the only thing he says before ripping the poor plushie out of your arms and chucking it across the room

like actually how DARE you try to replace him with a plushie

"Why would you do that?" You pouted at him, looking at the now discarded plushy from the bed🤕

"You know damn well why." He huffed, laying down on top of you without warning which tends to be a habit of his

"Because that's my spot, got it?" He answered for you. clearly you forgot😒

"Uhhh, right." you answered after a short pause...

"I won't remind you next time." he sounded rlly annoyed. it's kinda funny how worked up he got over a plushy replacing him 🤭

this also means he won't let you get up for like.... atleast 2 hours to atone for your sins

moral of the story: don't do this again unless you want a ripped up plushie and a pissed off lion man😠

𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖ Idia Shroud

"This is so unfair. Even worse than an OP boss. " he sighed dramatically, laying down besides you and pouting at the sight og a huge plushie in your arms

"pick up the sock if you have enough energy to complain." you turned away from him, still annoyed with him

being the epic gamer he is (😎💯), he discarded one of his socks in the middle of his room and didn't feel like picking it up later even after you told him to

...which ended with you refusing to cuddle with him until he does pick up the sock

after a short while of very awkward silence...

he groaned in annoyance, begrudgingly getting up and finally picking up the sock, then leaving the room to put it in the wash

you smirked victoriously, placing the plushie away as promised and letting him hug you instead

"The things you make me do, smh." he sighed, relaxing into you 😒

"Picking up a singular sock?" you teased him, hugging him back

He didn't reply so that means it's your victory 😝

𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖ Vil Schoenheit

this is an unforgivable offense, just because you had a little disagreement earlier doesn't mean you can just replace him with a plushie😠

love transcends disagreements, after all

does not help at all that the plushie's cute round face reminds him of a certain thorn in his side named Neige LeBlanche😒

he sighs, "I may have been too harsh back there."

your only reply is an annoyed huff and you hug the plushie tighter which makes one of those anime veins pop up on his face 💢

he takes a deep breath "It was not my intention to hurt your... sensibilities." he's trying babe, he's really trying

You don't reply for a moment...

"Ugh." you throw the plushie away and hug him tightly "This doesn't mean I forgive you, just for the record."

"I still stand by my opinion too, just worded less harshly." he gently puts an arm around you, stroking your back

it was only a matter of time until you gave up with your stubborn pettiness, soon you'll forgive him too, he'll make sure of that 😌

𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖ Lilia Vanrouge

He's actually surprisingly chill about it i feel like

He wouldn't get annoyed or be jealous per se, he'd just get a little sad it's not him you're hugging😔

he's there, you know? there's no need for a plushie...

"Am I not satisfactory enough?" He asks half playfully half seriously

"In what sense?" you totally knew what he meant but just wanted to tease him back

"Hey, isn't this supposed to be the other way around?" he smiled at you, immediately knowing what you were playing at

"Hahaha, you know me too well." you kiss his cheek, yet you still don't let go of the plushie which makes him pout

"I see you have found yourself a new lover." his eyes travel to the plushie for a moment, the betrayal is real😔🙏🏻

"You got a problem with him?" you raised a brow 🤨

"A little." he hugged you from the back, getting comfy

"Okay fine, maybe my ex is the better one after all." you let go of the plushie and turned around to hug him back 💗

[sophsicle]

Zar writes better than you 💀

fair

i've said it before, and i will say it again, i was very jealous of crimson rivers before i read it, not because of the popularity, which i think ppl assume, but because i was like "ugh damn, i would LOVE 2 write these characters in the hunger games"

and then i read it and i was like "these were all the right narrative choices to make and i wouldn't have made any of them"

i mean, better or worse is kind of subjective, but i think zar has an incredible gift for story telling and is SO good at knowing where the emotional weight of a narrative lies, which is my #1 problem with traditionally published media so like

i understand this is just supposed 2 be mean, but like, i have no problem conceding that there are areas where zar supersedes me as a story teller, i dont think we're the same so it's really not a one to one comparison, but it is super fun 4 me 2 get 2 read their writing, and i think it makes me a better writer to create in the same space as them

like ideally that's fandom, right? like we're not in competition, so, i get to see how other writers interpret the same characters and plots as me, and i think that's a really unique thing that i really appreciate

ANYWAY, i love all the authors in this space, and i am very happy 2 have gotten the privilege to speak to and get to know many of them :)

[cyber333angel]

Jj making you feel better on your period !

caution ⚠️ - period s*x!

“alright babydoll let’s roll.” your boyfriend says, ready to go to the connivance store to get all the snacks and extra pads you need. “jayj my tummy hurts real bad and my feet too! can’t you just go for me..” you say in a glum tone, already in your sweat pants and jjs sweatshirt. you were all ready to go until your cramps snuck up on you and putting you in a agitating and painful mood. “baby you know I would but you won’t tell me what you want, plus I don’t know what size pussy you have so you gotta come with me to check.” he says shrugging his shoulders and trying to be funny, you look at him with an unamused face. “oh c’mon mrs. grumpster, we’ll be quick all you have to do is walk and point out what you want.” he picks you up placing you on his shoulder for a moment, walking to the outside of your apartment door and placing you down, forcing you to actually walk to the car, you mumble “that’s exactly the problem! you never listen t’me my feet hurt and-“ you go in grumbling a bunch of nothings and the two of you reach to the car. driving on the way to the store jj puts his hand on your tummy, rubbing it in circles, it relives the pain a bit. he sees you sigh at the relief, “that feel good babycakes?” you nod taking his hand and putting it below your waistband, directly on top of your pelvis. “your hand is so warm jayj..feels nice.” he’s just happy to help you get rid of some of that pain, resting his hand there for the rest of the ride. arriving at the store the two of you enter and walk around, grabbing all your cravings, pain killers and pads.

jj pays for it at the counter and puts the bags in the trunk. your sat back in the passengers seat moaning and groaning at the sudden pain, your back hurts and everything is just overwhelming you! “mmm jj I can’t do it! everything hurts so’bad! ugh..!” your crutched over the seat, your tummy in your lap, jj takes his hands and rubs your back. “im sorry sweet girl..don’t worry we will be home soon.” he says disheartened at your pain, knowing he can’t really help much. you and your boyfriend get home, jj unpacks the bag and you run to lay down on your bed, shriveling and rolling around in pain. after jj is done packing the bags he comes up to to your room watching you perform the scene, upset at the fact his baby is in pain. “you know..I saw on the internet that masterbation and sex can help relive period cramps.” you stop rolling around the bed, wondering if you actually heard what he just said and look at him astonished. “what! I just saw it somewhere, s’not like I made it up.” you huff at the rash suggestion, “jayj you don’t think that’s gross? s’all bloody down there..it would be very messy.” he steps closer to the bed, shaking his head and sits next to you, “babydoll nothing about you is gross, it’s very natural and I want to help you. trust, there’s worse things I’ve eaten. like once I ate this moldy bread with-“ you interrupt him, “yeah I know how gross you are! but if your really fine with it then I guess we can try..”

“you know I am mama.” you shy away at his eagerness and nod, and he gets up to fetch you a towel to place under you. you clean yourself up a bit and lie down on the bed, sliding off your sweatpants and panties leaving only jjs sweater to cover you. a little nervous of how this will go, your boyfriend sits on the bed applying a condom. he has you in a missionary position quivering under him, he calms you down. “baby I promise you it’s alright. the only thing I want for you is to feel better. you could do that for me right?” nodding but still a little anxious he lifts your thighs up, putting them on his shoulders and lines his cock up to your reddened hole. “im going in alright princess?” you squeeze your eyes shut as he pushes in, his hand on your lower waist, pressing down you feel an intense pressure. arching your back you mewl at his prick prodding at your walls. “mmph jayj,.! feels so strange..” he thrust back and forth very slowly, “a good strange or..?” nodding at him, “s’good jayj just feels so deep!” your boyfriend loves that response providing deeper strokes to distract you from any cramps. “oh shit babycakes, you feel so fuckin warm..” you sit up on your shoulders and watch his cock go in and out, making such a mess of your pussy. you breathe hard through your nose and cringe at the pace. “jj i wanna cum..!” he looks down at you wrapping his arms around your thighs “you want me to go faster?” you nod frantically, “please!” jj pulls his hips back and thrust back in at a fast pace. your cunt squelching from mix of blood and arousal, pap-pap-pap. “hngh wait jayj s-slow down a bit!” you cry at the stimulation, “which one is it you want me to go faster or slower hm?” your unable to answer a the intensity, you feel a quiver in your stomach making you wince. “aw cupcake you feel like y’gonna cum? daddy making you feel good?” nodding, he rubs circles onto your cunt making you clench around him. “angh! feels so’good jayj..m’gonna cum!”

“c’mon baby..oh theeere it is good job.” you cream around his length, squealing and catching your breath from the orgasm. your boyfriend finishes in you and pulls out, leaving you feeling empty. “so how’s the cramps now mama?” sniffling, you tell him, “feels so much better jayj, thank you!” getting up you fling yourself on him to give him a hug. “no problem, anything to help you baby.” he smirks at you, “let’s get you cleaned up now sweet girl.” he takes you to the bathroom giving you a relaxing bath, doing all of the work for you. he drys you off, helps you into your pajamas and slides on your bonnet. giving you a painkiller with some water and tucking you into bed. “good night babydoll. tomorrow we will try some yoga, I heard that helps too.” you huff and grumble at the tiring sounding activity, “no m’sleeping tomorrow jayj!” he laughs at your lazy reaction and snuggles you closer to him.

[coldbronzemoon]

Danny Fenton, Totally Mortal Hero Consultant (DPxDC)

Snippet for an AU I'll probably never fully write where Danny takes a job as a consultant for the Justice League to help with ghost and demon bullshit. It's a pretty good cash flow to help him with college, after all, and very flexible hours.

He just claims all his knowledge comes from his parents. Unfortunately, the JL has caught word of the elusive yet active hero Phantom, and want Danny to help them meet and assess him. Whoops.

Over the phone, Tucker sighed. “Good Christ, Danny, why do you keep doing this?”

“I’m not doing anything,” Danny said immediately. He winced at the vague sound of screaming below. Demons sucked. “I didn’t know the JL thing was gonna have me finding Phantom. How would I? They were talking about tracking down powerful ghosts, I was assuming Ancients!”

Tucker sighed again, which was really quite unfair of him. “Mhm. Well, Fenton Catcher?”

“Probably not. They know me pretty well at this point, and unlike what Sam says I can be professional. I’d confuse them with the… uh…”

“Stoner shtick?”

There was more screaming happening, but judging from the pitch it was a demon screaming this time. Danny checked the situation. Yep, demon getting their ass kicked. He didn’t need to get involved with a blaster. Yet.

Instead, he scowled at his phone. “Stop calling it that.”

“You’re gonna tell me flanny Danny wasn’t a pitch-perfect stoner, huh? With the chill vibing and the dopey look?”

“I hate you.”

“Love you too, bud.” 

The sound of a clacking keyboard that had underlined their conversation stopped. “But seriously, Danny, what the hell are you gonna do with this?”

“Uh, lie, probably,” Danny said, because it was very likely.

“Alright, smartass, what are you going to do when that lie backfires on you like literally every other one does?”

“That’s when I start gaslighting, gatekeeping, and girlbossing, babe.”

He had a hard time hearing Tucker’s distant groan of “Why am I still your friend?” on account of the sudden explosion. Danny checked again. Hm. Demon dude had a nasty fire thing going on.

Danny switched on his Fenton water gun—holy water included!-- and shot the demon in the face. They let out a cracking hiss of rage, but dropped the fire spell thing. He waited for them to stop looking around wildly for the culprit for a moment. 

He went back to the call. “‘Cause you loooove me, Tuck. From the bottom of your twice-dead heart.”

“Unfortunately,” Tucker deadpanned.

Danny just cackled. It was lost amongst the sound of supernatural bullshit below.

“Anyway, I’m still figuring out my plan A, honestly. Might bring in gray-man?”

“Amorpho’s an asshole, though. He’ll ruin the whole thing by taking the opportunity to shift into a JL member for a bit.”

Hm. True.

“Yeah, but he’s the main guy I know with that power set.”

“Ask after Desiree?” He could hear the immediate distaste in Tucker’s voice. “Ugh, pretend I didn’t say that. That’s worse than Amorpho.”

“It’s awful,” Danny agreed easily. 

Desiree was actually pretty alright nowadays, mostly on account of Danny remembering the last couple minutes of Aladdin and wishing she could refuse wishes she didn’t want to grant. That had made her happy enough to stop actively picking fights. 

Unfortunately, spending the entirety of one’s afterlife twisting the wording of wishes to their worst form made it hard to stop being an asshole. Who knew! So getting Desiree to split him in two for like a week had a 50/50 chance of fucking up his work relationship with the literal league of superheroes irrevocably. And this was his main cash flow right now.

So, no Desiree, no siree.

“Come up with something better then, asshole.”

Danny hummed and, since the heroes below were focused on the demon, lifted up a little and did a thoughtful back flip. What to do, what to do…?

Oh!

“My cousin!” he exclaimed.

“What cous—? Oh, Ellie.”

“Yeah, Ellie, Tuck. Which other cousins do I have?”

Tucker scoffed. “You literally have that whole Nightingale thing going on through your dad?”

Danny couldn’t help the face he made. The remaining Nightingales were worse than his parents somehow. “The Nightingales don’t count.”

“You can’t just say they don’t count.”

“I can say that, actually, and I will. They’re, like, cousins through my great-great-great-grandpa anyway.”

“Isn’t there a fight going on over there? Should you be shooting someone?”

 “Yeah, probably.”

He peaked down through the window once more. The heroes must have gotten the first demon to leave while he was talking, because the horned demon fighting them now was a truly unfortunate shade of yellow-green instead of purple. Or maybe it had transformed for some reason? They had it about as in-hand as the other one, though, so Danny definitely didn’t need to go down there. He shot the maybe-new demon in the face real quick.

“Anyway, Ellie can totally help out, she’s been practicing with changing up her looks. She’s also more, uh, malleable than me, what with her situation and all. Looking fully like Phantom shouldn’t be hard.”

Tucker hummed. “She’d try to embarrass you though.”

“Yeah, that’s a problem.” Danny spun in place. “I could bribe her?”

“With what? Her life doesn’t involve needing much cash.”

“She doesn’t get out to the Zone very much. Not many of the inhabited places, anyway. I can promise her the weird apple things Dora’s been growing with Sam’s help, she loved those.”

“If you think that’ll work…” Tucker trailed off dubiously.

Danny laughed. “She’s annoying sometimes, but she’s not gonna fuck over my job if I ask her not to. I’ll just bribe her extra hard for resisting the temptation to mock me.”

“Fair enough.” The clacking of keys resumed. “I’ve really gotta pay attention now, someone’s trying to stop me from getting into this database. Someone half-decent, actually, did they upgrade? Hm. Make sure no one died, yeah?”

“They’re alive. Bye, Tuck,” Danny said, and ended the call.

He shoved his phone back into his jacket pocket and made his way down the stairs. The fight outside he had been stationed for was basically over—Captain Marvel and Green Lantern (Danny was pretty sure he had accidentally learned the dude’s actual name at some point, but hell if he could remember)—had pulled out the magic restraints one of the other consultants had handed out.

That had probably been Constantine. Ugh. Constantine. Dude could stand to lighten up a little; skulking and smoking all the time wasn’t the base state of someone enjoyable to be around. Then again, Danny knew he annoyed the shit out of some of the league with his own attitude, so he maybe shouldn’t talk. But at least he was annoying with a smile!

Case in point: Danny grinned at the heroes. “Got it handled?”

“Suppose so,” said the Green Lantern, “though a little more help would have been nice.”

Captain Marvel was too busy getting in a minor tussle with the demon to say anything either way.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m like, pretty mortal,” Danny said. “I’m not fucking with demons right where they can hit me. And I did shoot him!”

Green Lantern rolled his eyes, but admitted the point. Danny cheerfully flipped him off anyway.

“I’ll be heading out, then, the hellmouth this guy crawled out of is like three miles away.” Captain Marvel said, hauling the handcuffed demon over his shoulders like a very angry backpack.

“Oh, one more for the road!” 

Danny hit the demon with a final water gun shot. Hissing and scrunching their face like a cat, the demon tried to lunge at him. It wasn’t very successful. Weirdly non-verbal for a demon, who usually had to talk to make deals and steal mortal souls, but Danny wouldn’t judge. Might be a minor demon. A really basic imp? Who knew.

“Stop being a little bitch and you won’t get spray-bottled, asshole,” Danny chided.

With a loud laugh, Captain Marvel sped away.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Called to Duty 4

Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, abandonment, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Captain Syverson

Summary: You struggle to move on from the biggest mistake of your life but find it hard to forget among the whispers of a small town.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

The bank is as ever anxiety inducing. On pay day, you go down to cash your check then give most of it right back, parsing it out for your various expenses. At the end of it, you have even less than the month before. You don't get it. Thing's only seem to get worse; not just money, but your body. Every day you wake up, you feel even more crummy than the last. 

Your hopes of a treat at the cafe are dashed. You give a longing look as you walk by and peer through the window. You can smell cinnamon and coffee. You're strict non-caffeinated, doctor's orders, but a decaf would be amazing with one of those cinnamon buns. Ugh, damn, why are you torturing yourself? 

You turn to continue down the street but barely dodge out of the way of another pedestrian. He makes sure you can't pass as he mirrors you, sidestepping to block your way. You sigh as you step back and look Sy in the face. For a big man, he sure can sneak up on you. 

"Hey," he flips up his dark sunglasses, "how're you feeling?" 

You stare up at him defiantly, not quite bold enough to glare. He hasn't done anything wrong, he's just persistent. It isn't his fault he reminds you of that spoiled deadbeat. Or that your emotions are volatile, one moment teary eyed, the next blazing hot with rage. 

"Fine, thanks for asking," you shrug, "Sy, I gotta--" 

"I owe you a cookie," he points to the cafe window at his shoulder. 

You blink. You remember the cracked shortbread. You forgot about that. The mention of the sugary treat makes your stomach growl and your mouth water. 

"No, you don't--" 

"I do," he insists, "I don't like to carry 'round debts. Let me buy you one." 

"I got it free," you say, "it's not a big deal." 

"It is to me," he counters, "I was heading in anyway." 

You stare at him. You really don't get this man. You're no longer so sure that Thor sent him to check up on you, not since your last interaction. In fact, the wingman seemed more spiteful of him than you. You look across the steeet to the pharmacy then back at him. The aromas wafting out with each swing of the door have you ravenous.  

"I can't stay long, I gotta work," you say. 

His cheeks twitch, as if he tamps back a smile before it can bloom, "after you." 

He gesture behind you to the door. You turn and lead the way. He reaches past you to open the door before you can and you enter ahead of him. The din within is lively and the air is warm from the crowd and the employees steaming out orders behind the counter. 

"Wanna find a seat?" He suggests, "you should rest." 

You open your mouth to argue but think better of it. You'd rather not stand in the clustered line. You nod and head off to claim the table by the window. There isn't much left. 

You pull out the chair and brace your back as you sit with a sigh. You glance over and find Sy watching you as he stands in the queue. His gaze makes you want to wilt, instead you turn your attention out the window. 

Not even Thor looked at you like that. Don't be silly. Sy is just being a dutiful guy, helping out the town slut in her time of need. You won't be duped. Not when you can hear your name being twisted on tongues at that very moment. 

You sit and wait, wring the strap of your small purse. You watch the street. If it wasn't for the people, Hammer Ford would be serene. 

A plate clinks in front of you and a porcelain mug as well. It isn't a cookie and you can smell the herbal tea's rosy flavour. You peer up at Sy as he gives an apologetic look. 

"Cookies are still baking so I got you a cinnamon bun," he says. 

"And tea?" You add. 

"Can't have one without the other," he says, "no coffee for you." 

"Yeah, I... I know." 

You could laugh. He suggested before he's been reading things about pregnancy. You just can't picture him with a copy of What To Expect When You're Expecting.  

"Thank you," you smile as best you can. 

"Gotta get mine, be back," he excuses himself and marches back to the counter. 

You look down at the gooey iced draped spiral. You really shouldn't. Not only accept his misspent generosity but indulge in the excess sugar. Yet your hormones won't let you resist. You can at least wait until he's sitting down. 

He returns with a black coffee and a rather colourful donut. They don't match. Bitter and sweet all at once. He sits and takes off his hat and sunglasses. 

You put your purse to the edge of the table and rest your hand on your stomach, doing your best to resist the animalistic need to tear apart the dessert. His eyes follow the movement and you quickly drop your arm. You don't even think when you do it, it's just a habit. 

"You-" he begins. 

"Wh--" you find your voice at the same time. 

You both stop, hesitant. He nods and gestures to you, lifting his cup as he watches you intently. That's new too. Thor never listened much, only talked a lot. Besides, you weren't exactly together for the conversation. 

"Sy," you clear your throat and sit forward as much as you can, "why are you following me around?" 

His brows form a vee, "I'm... it's not... I'm tryna help." 

"Okay, but why?" 

His eyes flick up to the ceiling and his cheek ticks as he gives the question genuine thought. When he looks at you again, his face is set, "because I want to." 

"You want to?" 

"Yes, I'd like to take care of you. And the little one, if you'll let me." 

You can't help your snort, "we hardly know each other." 

"Isn't for lack of trying," he taps his fingers on his mug. "Aren't ya gonna try the bun?" 

"I will," you assure him. He's trying to distract you and it's close to working. The cinnamon is driving you mad. "A baby is a lot of work and... I'm not your responsibility. I know Thor is your friend." 

"Was," he interjects.  

"Sure," you accept his decisive declaration, "but that doesn't mean you have to worry about his mistakes." 

"Mistakes? I don't think so," he says. 

"Well, it's not exactly planned," you scoff, "Sy, really I don't feel right about you doing so much." 

"Wouldn't feel right not doing it," he shrugs his burly shoulders. 

“But why?” You nearly exclaim. You just want to know why he cares so much, about you? 

He leans forward, elbows on the table, “they talk about me too, ya know? Since I got back from... serving. They say I’m f—crazy, or whatever. It wasn’t easy or nothin’ over there but I’m not nuts. Not like they say. Just like you’re not some slut, forgive me for saying it out loud.” 

You look down at the table and exhale. So he hears as much as anyone else about you. At least he’s honest. At least he isn’t joining them. You purse your lips and reach for the cinnamon bun, unable to restrain yourself any longer. 

“For what it’s worth,” you raise your eyes to meet his, “I never thought you were... unwell, or whatever they say.” 

His cheeks pinch, another suppressed smile, and he tilts his head, “I’m only happy to hear you think of me.” 

[lovelynim]

Bad day

Honkai: Star Rail - Aventurine x Dr. Ratio

A/N: HAPPY (LATE) BIRTHDAY @fluffy-ami!! I'm sorry for being such a horrible friend and only noticing the date has passed me by almost two weeks later. I hope this humble mess can make up for my delay. Love you, *mwah*

Summary: Ratio had a bad day, so Aventurine came to the rescue!

Word count: 1153 words

Ratio looked down at the hands wrapped around his chest, pondering whether he should question it or not. He was nearly sure he did warn that idiot gambler about the risks of pestering him tonight, so why, of all things, were Aventurine holding (or, at least, trying to) him down?

“Let go, gambler,” Ratio sighed, tapping the back of one of Aventurine’s hands with the vain hope it would be enough to convince him. “I’m not in the mood for your foolery.”

The only answer he got from the other man, however, was something suddenly pressing on his back. The doctor looked over his shoulder and could tell that the gambler was… leaning into him? Without moving his arms a single inch, Aventurine pressed his forehead on Ratio’s back, nudging slightly. “This isn’t ‘foolery’, I’m trying to be nice here, doc”.

“Then do it to someone else, can’t you tell I’m busy?”

“I can also tell you’re in a bad mood, doc,” Aventurine spoke softly, his words almost muffled by Ratio’s body. The doctor sighed, looking up to the ceiling. Oh Aeons above, what did he do to deserve this idiot in his life? “I thought someone as smart as you would be able to tell what a ‘hug’ is,” Aventurine teased, tightening his embrace.

Ratio wasn’t exactly restrained, but he couldn’t properly move either. Aventurine’s arms kept his won from moving all the way, leaving him in a quite difficult position. “Sigh, I’m serious, let me g-”

“So am I, doc,” Aventurine mumbled, leaning into the other as he tried to get closer to his face. The gambler stood on the tip of his toes, but still lacked a couple inches to properly reach Ratio’s. “What happened? Did you have a bad day?”

“Gambler,” Ratio warned, tugging at the back of Aventurine's wrist with a messed up grip, his fingers barely managing to graze at the other’s arm. “...why are you so clingy? Are you even sober?”

Aventurine couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle, planting his heels back into the ground. “Did you just hesitate?” He said smugly, tilting his head to the side to try to peek at Ratio’s expression.

His attempt to fend the other off with snark didn’t seem to work, Ratio noted mentally. Maybe it was the tiredness from work, but responding to Aventurine’s teases seemed to be a more difficult task than he first anticipated. “That was just another of your delusions, I’m afraid. Now, care to let me go?”

“Not until we work on this bad mood of yours, doc,” Aventurine insisted, pressing his forehead on Ratio’s back again.The scholar gritted his teeth, regretting not keeping in mind how persistent the other could be at times. “My mood will improve greatly once you let me go, gambler.” 

Against his expectations, what followed the short conversation was absolute silence. Almost as if he was actually pondering the matter, Aventurine only hummed quietly, making the doctor feel somewhat… uneasy.

Aventurine could be pretty unpredictable - an aspect of his that Ratio always despised utterly. Bold moves, careless thinking and an awful attitude, yes, that was Aventurine. On top of that, the fact that things always seemed to work in his favor only made it worse. 

The moments in silence seemed to drag on for hours and were making Ratio more anxious - to not say “curious”. The room was so quiet that he could almost hear the gears inside Aventurine’s head turning, plotting his next flawless plan. 

“Alright, that enou-ugh!” Ratio widened his eyes. If looks could kill, Aventurine would already be a better place by that time. “Gamb- ah! G-Gambler, don’t you d-dare.”

Aventurine laughed sheepishly, nuzzling the tip of his nose between Ratio’s wing bones. “‘Dare’ to do what, doc? I’m not sure if I’m following.”

Before Ratio could voice another retort, he felt those pesky fingers digging into his sides again. An electric sensation ran across his body, not to mention the fact that Aventurine kept his arms tightly wrapped around him, preventing him from moving. Damned gambler.

“Y-yohou know what I’m tahahalking about!” Ratio giggled against his will, moving his torso as much as he could inside the gambler’s hug, but his efforts were all in vain. If anything, whenever he moved, Aventurine would poke his sides again in an awfully tickling manner that would make him jump in place. 

The gambler pressed the tip of his fingers on the spot, taking advantage of Ratio’s fashion choice to rub small circles on the bare skin. “Come on, you’re too handsome to be frowning like that ~”

Ratio wasn’t sure if it was an extra measure to keep him moving away or something else entirely, but Aventurine was suddenly leaning on him again while his hand wrecked havoc against his half exposed side. Now, besides finding a way to deal with the annoying tickling, Ratio also needed to be careful to not make Aventurine fall to the ground or, worse, be dragged along in the other’s fall.

“Gahahambler! S-stop it!” Ratio hissed, his hands desperately trying to dislodge Aventurine’s, but he always seemed to be out of his reach. “You ihihidiot!”

“Ehh? How mean!” Aventurine chuckled, vibrating his fingers under one of Ratio’s ribs, making the scholar let out an uncharming, loud laugh. “I’m very worried about you, doc! N- now, could you squat a little?”

“W-whahat?!”

Ratio had been tickled by Aventurine before, yes. He also returned the favor a few times. And considering the history of episodes regarding this matter, this particular request became even more odd. It wouldn’t surprise him if Aventurine teased him or threatened him with more tickling, but… squat?

“I c-can’t reach your face, you’re too tall…” The gambler muttered shily, almost innocently, but his hand didn’t stop - not for a single moment. The contrast between his acts and his attitude annoyed Ratio even more. “C’mere, please ~”

“H-how cahahan I move with you hohoholding me, yohou imbehehecile!”

“Agh, fine,” Aventurine groaned, deciding to take the other’s requests in consideration and, at last, letting him go. 

Ratio gasped, quickly reaching for his abused side and trying to rub off the ticklish sensation. “You d-damned gambler,” he panted, turning around to face Aventurine, who wore that handsome stupid smirk he always used to.

“Nah-ah, before you scold me…” Aventurine ordered, pointing towards the ground as a reference to his demand. Ratio usually would’ve denied but, just this time, he decided to oblique.

Slightly bending forward, Ratio’s eyes were almost at the same level of Aventurine’s, waiting for the gambler to take action. “So, what did you want?”

“This, doc,” Aventurine muttered, gently wrapping his arms around Ratio’s neck and planting a kiss on his cheek. “I hope you have a better day tomorrow,” he whispered close to Ratio’s ear, burying his face in the crook of his neck.

“...gambler,” Ratio called softly, letting out a pleased sigh.

“Yes, doc?”

“Thank you.”

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Radioactive Apocalypse

The constant upset and warring provinces have prepared the world for the worst. Before the blowout, many thought it wise to pay for a bunker for the oncoming atomic apocalypse. Most of the population couldn’t afford to do so, let alone believe that it would be needed. 

They’d be wrong.

Whether you are one of the unsuspecting public or a passive believer, average day life doesn’t have you safely tucked in a bunker when the initial alarms go off. You are smooshed against others in a large crowd all watching and listening in awe. But the moment one person screams it's all over. The crowd twists and turns pulling you in no specific direction. As the final alarms ring out an arm pulls you through the chaotic crowd and into a bunker full of others reeling at the recent events. So here you find that you are trapped safely in the stifling and well-furnished  Atomic Bunker. 

“Who pulled me in here?”

“Does it matter! You survived the initial blast, didn’t you? Ungrateful twat.”

“No need to be hostile, little brother. It's natural to be vexed after watching the world end. Right in front of you.”

“Oh, all those poor souls!”

“My lady, your handkerchief.”

“My baby! My baby! I didn’t grab them! Oh, my poor baby!”

“There there, we’re all very shaken up—”

“B-b-b-but y-y-y-your still smiling—.”

“We are all dealing with the pain in different ways. But let's all take a breather and relax.”

“You don’t sound all that upset to me either.”

“I can say the same thing to you, but I guess you’re just happy to be off the streets, right?’

“Oi!”

Hearing the cacophony of such a colorful cast distracts from the initial fear. Their voices remind you that you're not suffering like the rest of those unfortunate people. They allow you to cry with an audience of fellow mourners and those who can keep calm easily. Before you can let the silence set in, they pull you back with their bickering. It's always either one or two of them that is always voicing their concerns. There’s always a voice of reason, something you’re grateful for as you desperately search for a distraction. 

“Everyone! I believe introductions are in order! I am the middle child of the Penz household as well as the main manager of the bunker.”

With a blonde head of hair and a funky sense of style, his smile persists. Uvil Penz is an interesting guy as you’ll come to find. Aside from smiling during the ongoing onslaught of atomic warfare he always has a way of looking on the bright side for better or worse. 

“Oh, my baby!” 

“Now please miss dry your tears, there are plenty of toys down here to distract yourself with.”

His optimism is surely unique as you can’t quite place where it may stem from. On one hand, you could see it as an unemotional response with an attempt to soothe. But you’ll see him laugh genuinely or offer insight into a person’s emotions. On the other hand, it may come from a sly condescending perspective. It fits right along with his brothers’ behavior. But the way he works to compliment you often, attempting to keep your spirits high, or how he’ll make a request for your favorite foods to be scavenged makes you think otherwise. 

“(Y/n)?”

“Huh? Uh yeah?”

“Did ya know: you’re gorgeous even with those tear streaks on your face.”

“What?”

“I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while now, but I think you really needed to hear that now.”

Or maybe that’s just you because you have a hard time believing Uvil trying to be soothing when he’s smiling widely after making someone cry. But it's hard to be decisive about liking or disliking the blonde as he could very well be the one who grabbed your wrist and pulled you in. On top of that, he allows everyone to stay even as opportunity knocks on the bunker door. As long as you don’t mind his ever-present smile and disconnected sympathy life will be great.

“I, Uvil Penz welcome you to the Penz bunker. Now little brother, go on. Introduce yourself.”

“Eugh! Get off me! Ugh, my name’s William and I know this bunker better than anyone else. So better learn to respect me!” 

He’s certainly not like his brother. At least not on the surface. With black short hair and a disgusted sneer constantly on his face. He doesn’t bother comforting anyone at least not in the typical way. Any advice or comfort is said through gritted teeth or with an annoyed click of his tongue.

“Look, if yer gonna keep crying do it in one of the soundproof rooms. You're bothering those of us who want to think!”

Not to mention he’s the first to point out your insecurities or make fun of you for grieving at all. Don’t worry you’re not the only one, he goes just as hard if not harder on everyone else. Making sure everyone is well aware that the whole group knows of their problems. Usually snickering or outright laughing at whoever he’s decided to victimize. At one point, everyone will be annoyed with him. As much as he loves to boast about it he is the only one who knows how to maintain the bunker. 

“Gosh, you are such a pain in the–”

“Don’t forget who knows how to start up the generator…so unless you want to enjoy life without lights, you’ll put your fists down.”

“Ugh! Fine.”

“Thank you…meathead.”

“YOU LITTLE-”

Despite his arrogance, his snarky jabs, and the weirdly endearing way he seeks you out the atomic apocalypse wouldn’t be the same without him. For as annoying and degrading as he may be, he’s still willing to share his switch with you when you’re feeling particularly bored. Making sure you can’t see his face when he pokes the controller against your cheek. 

“Come on. You’re bored aren’t you?”

“You…want me to play with you?”

“Well duh! So…are you?”

“I-I’d love to!”

Not to mention he knows the cheat codes to all the games in the arcade room. And if you do him small favors he’ll share his limited edition ramen with you. Now he may ask for your undergarments or your toothbrush but that’s nothing in the endless days spent in the bunker. After all, it's better than the atomic aftermath out there and according to the only Penz willing to go out there, you wouldn’t last a day.

“Well, my introduction’s done. Marc!”

“Yeah yeah, ‘sup everyone. I’m Marco.”

The eldest of the Penz brothers is concerningly nonchalant from the very beginning of your stay in the bunker. With his girlfriend on his arm and an easy-going attitude, he doesn’t really bother to comfort anyone other than her. Except maybe you. 

“Hey didn’t take you for a late-night snacker. You okay?”

“I’m—fine, excuse me.”

“Whoa whoa, lil’ bunny. Don’t run away just yet, the wolf has questions.”

“Please just–I’ll go back to the room.”

“Nah-ah sit bunny.”

“But you took the only chair.”

“Right here, bunny. We’ve got all night.”

Supposedly, he was quite the womanizer before he got with his current girlfriend. Will makes a point to mention it anytime anyone you is found flustered or flattered by his attention. Even so, he doesn’t let that stop him from caging you against the bunker walls to ask for something. Or teasing you when he retrieves something from outside the bunker. 

“Come on just grab it.”

“Why are you holding it there? Just hand it to me normally!”

“So rude. I don’t feel like complying with a fussy bunny who doesn’t use their words.”

“Ugh! Fine. Please just hand it to me normally.”

“Ha no.”

“WHY NOT?!”

“It’s perfectly fine just grab it, babe. I don’t mind if you touch me along the way.”

For all his teasing and carefree behavior, he’s a good scavenger. Able and willing to brave the atomic wasteland when the bunker needs supplies. He’s strong and prepared to take on any unruly travelers who come by or intervene during scavenger hunts. 

He’s not all that opinionated when it comes to debates in the bunker. More excited to grab a snack and watch the chaos unfold. Smiling lightly as things get heated and tensions rise. In that way, he’s like an idle NPC but the second his boundaries are crossed then you have to deal with the rare and angry Will. 

“C-calm down Will…y-your not going to k-kill him right?”

“He’s the one who thought inviting our bunker-mates to play in that wasteland was a good idea.”

“Honey, it’s okay! (Y/n) didn’t actually go, right? So it’s okay, right Fin?”

“Yes, my lady is correct.”

It’s just better for everyone that no one gets on his bad side. And that everyone doesn’t mess with the things that make him happy: His peace, his girlfriend's peace, and your peace the happiness of specific bunker mates.

“Oh yeah, this my girl.”

“Um hello everyone. My name is Aria, Aria Mensloth. Marco was the one who brought me here.”

“Lucky you, I bet he’s the only one willing.”

“...Oh uhm yes I am quite grateful. I hope we can all get along.”

Aria is the sheltered blue-haired girlfriend of the eldest Penz brother. Opposites attract because, despite his immense uncaring personality, she’s generally more caring. Trying to check up on everyone she can even if her privileged life brings more misunderstandings than intended. 

“You seem upset, is it perhaps because you skipped breakfast this morning?”

“Uh no.”

“Oh well, for me this is a bigger change from the usual three-course breakfast I’m used to.”

“Okay…”

“Do you not know what that is like?”

She has the best intentions but she’s still learning. Too bad for her the ones in this bunker she is familiar with don’t bother correcting her or informing her unless directly asked. Her boyfriend would sooner chuckle and play with her hair than fill in the blanks. Her butler refuses to say much else than what is needed. So guess who she decides to attach herself to? You, of course. You're the most normal lovely bunker mate around and you don’t immediately insult her when she seeks to shadow you as you navigate your life in the bunker. 

“Ah, so you pick your own clothes out. How fascinating!” 

“Uhm Aria don’t you do the same?”

“Oh no, my butler picks everything out for me. It’s always been that way.”

“Oh…Would you want to try picking out your own clothes, sometime?”

“For myself? Oh no, I’m far too inexperienced….but maybe I could help pick out your outfits!”

“Wait–”

“Does that sound like a good idea, Butler Fin? Can we do it?”

“I see no problem with that my lady.”

“Oh good!”

As Will’s girlfriend, she’s an important person to keep happy. Wouldn’t want to deny her, especially when her beloved boyfriend is working so hard for the rest of the bunker. Not to mention her butler with an ominous gaze who is more than willing to exact her every wish. No matter how invasive it is to your privacy. You’ll have to be careful with your words. Wouldn’t want to make her cry...right?

“Aria, don’t.”

“Ari! Call me Ari!” 

“Ari sorry okay! I just don’t want to bathe with you, so please get off.”

“Y-you’re not trying to leave me, are you?! Didn’t Uvil tell us not to waste any supplies!? So please let me join!”

For as pushy as Aria can be, calling her out on her behavior or offering to tattle on her to her boyfriend usually gets her off your back. But where she lacks persistence, her butler makes up for it. 

“Hello everyone, I am the Mensloth Butler Finster. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Finster or Fin, is like any depiction of a dutiful butler come to life. Even with the threat of the atomic apocalypse, he’s still maintaining his mistress throughout. He doesn’t talk much outside of responding to Aria and occasionally the Penz brothers. 

“...”

“Look butler-man, if you’re goin’ to make breakfast why not feed us all?”

“...”

“Butler Fin.”

“Yes, my lady?”

“Can you make breakfast for Will, (Y/n), and me?”

“Yes, of course, my lady.”

“Wow….really?!”

You’ll find when he’s alone he can speak without addressing his mistress only when he wants to. But he seems to enjoy your company, especially during the night cycle when Aria is fast asleep. He smiles openly with you, cracking jokes about the day he appeared numb to before. 

“Well, it seems as though you were right about them. Fighting with each other like chickens in a coop.”

“Right? I thought I’d be the only one who noticed.”

“Please your observations are hardly wrong, it helps that we can talk like this with each other. Helps us remember how to communicate. I really appreciate that you’re willing to.”

“Oh uh, no problem I like talking to you too..”

“No, thank you (Y/n). I doubt I could hold any level of sanity if it weren’t for you.”

When push comes to shove, he is capable of holding his own in a debate. His actions can be interpreted as that of a selfless and devoted butler. But it can also be read as that of someone with their own agenda—something practically impossible to decipher by his behavior alone.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for (Y/n) to leave the bunker, either.”

“Y-your actually s-s-speaking? On your own?”

“Well, I bet it’s only because he wants his master lady to not cry like a baby!”

“Was that your intention, Finnster?”

“...My lady, is my top priority at all times.”

It’s a nice illusion though, that he’d be a somewhat normal character, considering he’s often the only one whom you can hold a normal conversation with, without walking away thinking he’s obsessed with you. But his actions do. Oftentimes, watching his behavior without his explanation would make anyone worry.

“Excuse me?”

“I just wanted to ask about you pushing Aria that one time. Why would you do that?”

“Push? Push?! Oh no you’ve got it all wrong, I was attempting to support her back as we looked at the sewer. She did lose her footing but as you saw Marco and I caught her all the same.”

“Oh okay sorry, for misjudging.”

“It’s fine, though I’d be quick to forgive if you joined in some baking with me.”

Always good at conversation, and always willing to help, Butler Finn is a friend to confide in. Someone to talk to about the odd behaviors and conversations you've had with others. One of the other ones you can talk to about this would be your resident walking encyclopedia. 

“H-h-h-hi e-e-everyone I’m S-S-Simpson G-G-g-gron, Will b-b-brought me here.”

He’s like a stereotype incarnated, listing off all sorts of facts you would have never found yourself dedicated to remembering. With a stutter at the beginning of every sentence, Simpson refuses any sort of leadership, very similar to Will’s approach. Rather than having a bonafide position to argue when debates happen he prefers to chime in with what he knows for sure. 

“Look, the sooner we head out. The sooner we can all actually eat something real.”

“But you realize what the risk of leaving may mean, right?”

“The world burned away! Yeah, I got it.”

“A-a-a-actucally I think Uvil sir is r-r-referring to radiation posioning.”

“What?!” 

“The atomic b-b-b-bomb is not only the bringer of destruction, b-b-b-but a disease bringer.”

When he’s not bringing up important information he’s hanging around Will, stuttering a lot less and talking technically with one another. While Will is prickly, he’s able to properly articulate what he knows while also hurting your feelings. Simpson on the other hand…just can’t. It’s something you’ll try working with him on but once he gets going he just can’t stop.

“Okay let’s try this—why should I consider learning code?”

“Well…i-i-it’ll help y-y-y-you understand the programs you use the m-m-m–m-m-most?”

“Good. Now how so?”

“Well..learningtheintricaciesofcodingwillnotonlyallowyoutomanipulateyourownprograms–”

“Okay—now hold on–”

“Butintheendlearningthecodecsnotonlyallowanyonetoknowthesourcesofthewebsitesthatfunctionwithai–”

“Hey-wait!”

“IsitnotwisetolearnwhattheoneswhowillsurvivethistragedyworkthroughyoureyeslookasenchantingaseverAnywaythereallanguagetheyworkwithnowisbinarycodebutthatshouldn’tbe.”

“And there he goes.”

The real advantage of this though is his ability to return the favor of listening to his rambles. He happily listens to yours and comes with questions you’d only find yourself answering in an imaginary interview. But the adoring indigo-green gaze behind those iconic square glasses makes it impossible not to appreciate him. Not to mention, he and Will are the only two who religiously compete with you in the arcade room.

“Ack–that move is illegal!”

“Actually it's quite the opposite, really. This is the rule within the actual manual of the game’s lore–”

“Yeah, (Y/n) don’t be a crybaby you didn’t do your studying.”

“But you hid all the gaming manuals from me!” 

“Well, you are the one who bet something unspecified of yours. It would be unwise not to sabotage you.”

“Ack-! To be admitting it so openly!”

“No use lying about our tactics now that we are guaranteed a win.”

As the most obvious voice of reason, it isn’t a bad idea to be in his good graces. It also makes it harder to believe your own observations when you listen to his. Able to look at the bigger picture while you only have your snapshot or so he says. 

“But doesn’t this kind of product, have dire consequences for eating past the expiration date? And wasn’t there some craze about the aphrodisiac effects it has?”

“That’s a widely spread misconception, the craze was actually about the dopamine rush from the expired product.”

“Really? I’m pretty sure I remember the fanfics celebrating the stuff.”

“You are mistaken!”

“Uh okay.”

So if there’s anyone to rely on it’d be him. He may not be able to care for you as well as some of the others in the bunker. Or be as concerned as others but he’s trying his best. Of course, others may not even heed any of his efforts. Then again some of them hold themselves very highly. 

“Oh, my baby!”

“Miss are you okay to talk or–”

“My name’s Henrietta Spitz! What’s your name?”

“Uhm (Y/n).”

“(Y/n)! Oh (Y/n) I’m so sad!” 

Henrietta is probably one of the oddest characters in the bunker. Known as the distraught young mother who was dragged in by one of the…good samaritans within the bunker. If you aren’t swallowed by grief you’ll be swallowed by hers because she doesn’t let anyone forget what she’s gone through. 

“Wahhh~(Y/n) can I sleep with you?!”

“Uhm why would you need to?”

“I used to sleep with my baby at night. It’d just help me loads if your warm soft body next to mine.”

“Just like your…baby?”

“Yes, just like them~!”

But when she’s not wailing into your chest about her lost child, she’ll start up with a new…grieving routine. One that revolves around you drinking her milk…right from the tap that is. You want to argue with her–put a stop to this weird practice that she seems deadset that you be the only participant. But she cries aaalllll the time. If she isn’t set on fussing over you or forcing you to ‘help’ her grieving she whines and screams bothering everyone in the bunker. So you’ll take one for the team…right?

“I-I have milk for everyone!”

“ We have rations Miss so it's not an issue.”

“B-b-but we might run out! It’ll stop coming if it’s not drunken up!”

“Then perhaps the breast pump you had in your bag would be helpful.”

“B–b-but to keep this up I need to have a hungry mouth on there. It just won’t be the same.”

On top of that, her fleeting sadness for her child seems to conveniently leave her countenance the second it’s too inconvenient. It’s not all that obvious at first, easily being written off as her healing grief. But when she uses it for her own agenda so obviously it’s a little hard to take her seriously.

“STOP CLINGING TO (Y/N)!”

“Nooo! I want them to spend time with me!”

“It isn’t healthy to keep them locked up in your room like this. And (Y/n) you want to leave, don’t you? Finally, get to stretch your legs?”

“Yeah, I–”

“You can’t!”

“Why not?”

“I-I-I-My baby!?”

“What?”

“If you leave, the thoughts of my baby will come back and I just can’t bear it. (Y/n) please!”

Some will argue that what she’s doing is projecting her idea of her baby onto you. That she’s stuck in a psychosis that revolves around the one who she feels is meek enough to baby. But a grieving mother who would be projecting wouldn't do what she does. Everyone grieves differently but it’s the nature of her advancements that might lead anyone to suspect she’s not as motherly as she seems.

“Oh~(Y/n)~!”

“Yes?”

“Did you know something else my baby did?”

“Uhm what?”

“They’d let me wash them all over. And give kisses to me–”

“Okay.”

“On the mouth with an open mouth!”

“Okay? And?!”

It raises some concerning questions and speculations about her story. And how she was able to make it inside the bunker when everyone separately admits they did no such thing as lead her in. Or how she often mixes up the name of the child she seems so stuck on grieving. 

At the end of the day, she’s friendly to you…and maybe only you. She’s quick with her own insults the second anyone goes to question her or make their suspicions known. That and she seems to wryly refer to some hidden piece of information that keeps everyone from encroaching on her behavior. 

With all that being said. She’s definitely not one to forget for her attention to you, barely rivaled by the self-appointed scavenger and protector of you+ the bunker.

“I’m Grant and that’s all you need to know for now. I’ve got questions.”

“Ask a way, Grant.”

“Why do you even have this big of a bunker?”

“Is it so bad that we thought of comfort before the world’s end?”

“...I don’t buy it.”

If there was someone you’d expect to be the main character of some dystopian novel it’d be him. Cynical, confident, and muscled like no other, he becomes the bunker’s prime protector. Despite openly not trusting the Penz brothers he is the first to demand they do something when problems arise. While he’ll sooner croak than admit he relies on them, he does often light the fire for action from the prickly trio. 

“So what are you going to do about this?”

“Hm? Are you acknowledging me as the leader now?”

“No, but if everyone else has already I’d rather not rock the boat.”

“How benevolent of you!”

“Grrr.”

Hotheaded but not impulsive Grant becomes a significant facet of the group. Especially since the bunker needs more supplies. Brave and bold enough he’s willing to dawn the Hazmat suit and venture into the rumored wasteland that remains. It helps that he goes out of his way to help you settle and find your stance as the world goes through change.

“Hey. Here's some of the stuff I brought back. From the address you gave me.”

“Grant! This is-! I’m so surprised it even survived!”

“There wasn’t too much left but it was small enough and I thought it would survive the cleaning process.”

“Grant, really thank you!”

“...I-it’s no problem, you’re just lucky the blast didn’t damage it all too much.”

You’ll find he’s a compassionate guy at heart hardened by some terrible past he occasionally alludes to. But that harsh exterior tends to make up most of his image. Which can often lead to the group having…misconceptions about his personality.

“For a stupid delinquent that guy’s awful complex.”

“Speak for yourself! He keeps trying to tell me what to do!”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah! He said the time I spend hanging out with (Y/n) is unhealthy! What a nosy brat, criticizing my grieving process.”

“...Whatever."

The animosity for certain members of the bunker would become all too clear for you as the days pass. Such behavior is natural for those trapped in the same tight quarters. The same tight quarters that you can’t seem to leave; forced to watch these characters destroy themselves as they fight over something you.+ 

“Oh, guess it's my turn my name’s–”

“We’re happy you're here (Y/n).”

“Yes, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you!” 

“Nice to make your acquaintance.”

“We are all happy to meet you, (Y/n)!”

“Pft, suck-ups. Welcome, I guess.”

“I-I-I-I-I hope w-w-we can be close.”

“Oh (Y/n), you remind me so much of my lost little love! C’mere!”

“Hey Guys! Give them space!” 

The coming months will certainly be almost as chaotic as the world’s declining state. With your new family den of lions, surely there’s a sliver of a chance that you’ll thrive in the radioactive apocalypse. 

It’s best you start documenting your adventure now….

[arabellasleopardcoat]

Ace of Cups (Hotd x Reader)

Summary: An act of kindness leads you to a misterious stranger who offers to lift a block on your love life. Feeling lonely during Halloween, you decide to give it a go. Now there is a blonde corpse in the middle of your bathroom, and it turns out the corpse is not really a corpse.

Pairing: Rhaenyra x Reader, Aemond x Reader or Daemon x Reader.

Warnings: Mature language. Mentions of corpses. My first ever crack fic?

A/N: Happy Halloween! At the end of this silly set up, you have to choose a card. There are three endings. Choose wisely.

“Um. Excuse me?” You raised your hand, trying to get the couple of teens at the register to stop… Whatever they were doing. Probably making out, if making out involved pushing their tongues to the other person's tonsils. “Excuse me?”

Ugh. You hated it. Even as an adult, you find being around couples awkward. Especially if they were making out. When the couple in question was, like, half your age, it was even worse. If it were up to you, you would have left them alone and found another corner store, but you would rather not end up walking three blocks just to be able to buy a bottle of overpriced wine.

“What?” The girl pulled apart from the boy, with an annoyed expression. She took out a piece of gum and started chewing annoyingly. “What do you want?”

Despite your best efforts, your dismay must have shown on your face.

“Miss. What do you need, miss?” The girl corrected herself, rolling her eyes. But the damage was already done. You tried to force your face to remain fixed into a pleasant expression. This was not going to ruin your plans of having a pleasant night all by yourself.

“I want to pay for this. Please.” You handed her a bottle of your favorite wine. You would need it to make your night better. After all, this was the first time you would be spending Halloween completely on your own.

Having recently moved into your own apartment, it was not like you could spend the night with your family. All your friends had plans out of town or with people you didn't know. And while your coworkers had invited you out for drinks, you really didn't feel like slipping on a tight dress and wasting half your salary on overpriced cocktails.

There was no one to watch a horror movie or go out with, like you had done in previous years. Instead, you had planned to take a bath, eat some nice dinner and enjoy a glass of wine. Maybe watch a movie. Perhaps, even do a ritual of some sort, like the ones that appeared on TikTok. The energies were supposed to be stronger tonight, or so you heard.

Your self-care was not about to be ruined by a teen girl who didn't even know how to kiss. You refused.

“I am going to need some ID.” The girl rolled her eyes. She looked as done as you felt.

Cursing yourself for not having it already out, you started fumbling with your bag. This was shaping up to be a terrible day. Not only were you about to spend Halloween alone, but you were also going to have to hear teenagers, the meanest creatures on earth, have a go at you.

Good God, why couldn't you find it quicker? Your wallet seemed to be hiding under everything you had. To be able to look for it, you started taking out some things and leaving it on the counter.

“Uh… Babe. Can’t you just… Let her? She is obviously old enough.” The boy asked, sounding annoyed. He eyed your growing pile of things on the counter. A used chapstick, your keys, a pencil, crumbled up receipts. He wanted you gone, and soon. “More than old.”

And that was a bit insulting, really. The boy had chosen to remain quiet during the whole exchange, and now he interrupted just to say a rude thing? You were not even that old. But it appeared that in the age of planned obsolescence, you already were.

The girl's eyes shifted between your furious expression and her boyfriend's bored one.

“Fine.” She said. You handed her one of the crumpled bills that you had placed on the counter. “Have a good evening.” And without sparing you a glance, she handed you a receipt and started making out with her boyfriend, again.

You were fuming. There it went, your relaxing evening. You were not in the right headspace for it now. Deciding to reclaim what little of your good mood was left, you decided to take another route home. Perhaps, walking across the park might lift your spirits.

Grasping the bottle of wine and surely looking like an alcoholic, you walked out of the store. As of late, you felt terribly lonely. Living alone was hard. Not only you had to do everything by yourself, no roommates or family to fall back into, but you also had to come home every night to an empty apartment.

At first, you had been ecstatic to have your own space. You had loved your rented apartment, in a centric place of the city and decorated in a very modern fashion. You hadn't protested your landlord's condition of no pets and no changing the colors of the walls, too happy with having something of your own. The novelty of having a place to yourself had worn off after a while, and you had to face your sad little beige walls and a deafening silence.

It had not helped how busy your friends and you were. It seemed like the days when it was easy to coordinate an outing were long gone. Now with responsibilities, jobs and studies, it seemed like you only saw them once in a blue moon.

You were starved for human contact. You had been thinking lately of getting a partner, but the attention you received only discouraged you. So far, the only offerings you had gotten were from creepy guys, or people you had no interest in at all.

Taking a deep breath in, and choosing consciously to let go of the negative thoughts you were having, you took a step forward. The noise of the park was comforting. Among the chirping birds, there were the cheerful voices of children running around.

You smiled. Barely six, but there were already people in their customs. There was a couple dressed up as Danny and Sandy from Grease, and a little girl dressed as Barbie. Many of the children carried their plastic pumpkins, and you had to give them a few loose candies you had laying in your bag.

Trying to avoid disappointing more children with your lack of sweets, you crossed the park, taking the route where there were more trees. Under one, you found a middle-aged woman sitting on a bench. She was dressed in full witch regalia, pointy hat and all.

She must have been around her late thirties, with a head of dark, glossy hair and big eyes. In truth, you could not truly place her face in an age range, looking strangely young but with an air of maturity. Gorgeous, you thought. In a really intimidating kind of way.

You shook your head, trying to get rid of the thought. She was probably someone's mother, indulging her children by dressing up with them. The thought made your heart clench with longing for your own mother.

“Good evening, darling.” The woman said, taking out a cigarette. The gesture was effortless, like one made by a sixties' actress. You smiled, helplessly. You hoped one day you ended up being half as cool. “Do you happen to have a lighter? Or some spare change?”

“Oh. Um. I don't smoke, but I think…” You started searching your purse, and produced a couple of the crumpled bills. Perhaps it was the thought of your mother, or your loneliness, but you couldn't help but want to aid her. “Here. It might serve you to buy one at the corner store.”

Instead of making eye contact, the woman seemed oddly fixated on your hands. Self-conscious, you wondered if it had anything to do with your jewelry or lack thereof.

“Thank you, dear.” She took the bills from you, and quick as lighting, she grasped your hand. You didn't even have an opportunity to try to avoid her grip. “You have very interesting lines here.”

“I do?” A bit weirded out, you try to remove your hand, but she only grips it harder. The woman forces you to tilt your palm up towards her. One of her fingernails traces one of the lines on it. It makes you shiver.

“You do. Your love line is diverging.”

That doesn't sound good to you. You frown.

“Is it?” Feeling very silly for being self-conscious about your hand, you look down. You had never noticed before, but one of the lines in your hand diverges into three.

“Let me…” She reaches into her bag and pulls out a tarot deck. She shuffles hurriedly, under your bewildered eyes. Three cards fall in order. The Empress, The Devil, and The Hermit. “Interesting… And if I… Oh, I see.” Another card falls off the deck. This time, it's The Lovers.

“I am sorry… I really have to go.” Weirded out over the whole thing, you wish to leave. Things are only getting stranger, with the woman taking out the tarot deck.

“Don't.” She says sharply, her hand going back to your wrist. Surprised by her aggressiveness and the urgency of her tone, you decide not to argue. It can't hurt to entertain her a little longer. “I see a great future for you. There are three paths going forward, but you need to lift the block you have on.”

“Block?” You repeat, dumbly.

“You are lucky today is Samhain.” She huffs, pocketing the tarot deck. She searches her bag before pulling out a small sachet. It smells strongly of herbs. “Here. Bathe in this and look in your mirror tonight. When the veil is thinner.”

“The veil…?” You ask, puzzled by the entire thing.

“Between worlds, darling. Gods, it seems one has to teach you everything. Between twelve and three.”

“Oh. I don't really believe in…”

“At least keep it. And here.” She writes some numbers on a piece of paper. “If you run into trouble. The magical kind.”

Unconvinced you haven't been the victim of the most elaborate scam in history, you eye her warily.

“How much do I owe you?”

“Nothing. Nothing you will later not freely give.” She smiles, cryptically. “Have a good Samhain, darling.” And she gets up and walks away.

You glance at the bag. You don't want to be rude, but you doubt you will obey. She is a stranger, after all, and a pretty crazy one at that. As not to upset her, you pocket the bag and give her an awkward wave.

The rest of your evening is much less eventful. You get home and prep dinner, nursing a glass of wine. With everything that has happened already, you feel like you deserve it. You are generous with it, topping it at least twice.

As you curl into the couch to watch a movie, dinner and another glass of wine in front of you, the tarot reader's idea starts to sound right. You do feel lonely, and surely, throwing some herbs into a bath can't cause anything too terrible. At most, you would feel relaxed from the water and the smells.

Wine always makes you sad. Mopey, even. Tonight, your loneliness feels too tight, too solid against your chest, to be ignored. You long for someone to hold you through the night, to be by your side when things are tough. Someone to share your happiness and greatest achievements, but also your burdens. Mostly, you crave a sense of belonging. Belonging so well, your edges fit someone else's edges like a puzzle piece.

At the thought, you shake your head. Love wouldn't fix your loneliness, you think. There is something deeply alienating about the life you currently lead. Away from your family and friends, you feel unfulfilled. No matter how passionate you are about your work, it does not help to numb the longing for something more. If the perfect partner showed up, you would do the same you had done with your family and friends, and let life get in the way.

You wash your dishes. Curious, you take the little pouch the woman had given you out of your pocket. You smell it, deciding it has no hurtful contents. On your laptop, the clock reads quarter to midnight.

The tub fills as you decide to light some candles, to better set the mood. You add some Epsom salts before pouring your herbs in. The water shimmers under the candlelight in ways it should not, yet you do not notice. You mistake the swirls of colors for the herbs steeping in the water. The room starts to smell strongly of rosemary and lavender.

You enter the tub, satisfied with your choice. The heavenly smell is already relaxing you, and you congratulate yourself for taking the leap of faith. Slowly, the warm water relaxes your muscles and makes your body feel heavy. Almost too heavy. You catch yourself nearly dozing off, and decide to step out. You are alone, and you have been drinking, staying in it would be dangerous.

Careful not to slip on the wet floor, you wrap yourself in a fluffy towel and step towards the mirror. Your reflection is the same as always. If the block the woman had spoken about was a real thing, which you doubted, it left no physical evidence. You examined your face, noticing your paleness. But as your eyes meet the ones of your reflection, there is a flash of a foreign color in them.

There is a woman in the mirror. It's the same one you met at the park. She looks different now, dressed in a medieval green dress. Her lips stretch into a smile.

“I do hope you didn't choose The Hermit. Or The Devil. Oh, darling, I am so sorry. They are all bad choices.”

Someone presses a hand on your shoulder.

“Well. Better you than me. We shall meet again.” Her voice whispers in your ear, but when you turn, you see nothing.

You scream. The clock strikes twelve. A sudden spark of bluish purple that makes you turn again to face the mirror, relieved to find nothing more than your reflection. Your heart beats faster and faster, anticipating something you can't yet name.

Just as you are catching your breath, you notice that the face that is looking back at you it's not yours. You recoil, moving back as fast as you can. A loud thud echoes in your bathroom and your heels connect with something solid. You trip, screaming even more when you realize exactly what you have hit. A body. There is a body on your bathroom's floor.

You crawl towards them, shaking their shoulder and desperately looking for signs of life. You are starting to tear up in fright. The body is lying on its front, with a shocking head of silver hair. They groan.

This time, you scream so loud, your neighbors bang at your walls.

A voice then answers.

“What in the Seven Hells is going on?”

Choose your card:

The Hermit: You have decided to draw your attention inwards, in a path of self discovery. You are a quiet person, but quite bright. You enjoy learning and seek a mentor, though you enjoy your solitude. This is your next chapter.

The Empress: You are very connected to your femininity. You enjoy having beauty in your life, and the stimulation of your senses. You wish for your life to be comfortable more than anything. You are a romantic at heart. Your next chapter is here.

The Devil: You are a complex, multifaceted person. But if you could be described in one world, it is hedonist. You are very self-aware, and do not fear your shadow. If any, you embrace it. This is your next chapter.

[bunitivity]

I don't know if you've answered something similar but do you have any ZoLuSanUso headcanons for when they're sick? (Let's ignore canon for a moment, I know none of these monsters actually ever get sick, but that's no fun! We want angst, and hurt and comfort!)

No I’ve not lol but sure I can give some hcs. Out of the four of them I feel like Usopp would be the most likely to say anything if he got sick followed by Luffy and then Sanji and then Zoro who I believe wouldn’t even know if he was sick. He would just say something like I’ve been feeling weaker lately better up my training and then train harder like an idiot.

Sanji would be coming over with some refreshments and be like wait you’re breathing weird and you’re all red are you okay?/that’s what happens when you train maybe you should try it some time and then before Sanji has a chance to give a scathing respond Zoro just fkn collapses in front of everyone. Luffy would be fkn inconsolable thinking he’s dying bc anything that can fell someone like Zoro must be fatal and Usopp tries to explain that it’s just his hubris catching up to him and this is what happens when you train shirtless in the fucking cold.

Zoro would be the worst sick person bc he’d insist he’s fine and try to sneak out of the infirmary any chance he gets which is why it’s a good thing he has three boyfriends who can take shift to prevent that from happening. Though they don’t really need to take shifts bc Luffy won’t leave his side and is there under the covers with him fiercely holding him which was fine at first until it becomes too hot and it gets uncomfortable. Zoro is dying but would rather die before saying anything so it’s Sanji who has to break it to Luffy.

“You know I don’t think that’s necessarily a bad thing I’ve heard the easiest way to get rid of a fever is to sweat it,” Usopp points out.

Luffy’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

“Usopp darling my love,” Sanji pinches his nose. “I love you but please don’t encourage this. At this rate they’re both going to get sick and then we’ll have two ppl to take care of.”

“And here I thought you’d do anything for the people you love,” Zoro opens up the blanket. “Are you really going to let something like a measly cold stop you?”

Sanji sees the space Zoro opens up for him and the way Luffy looks so snuggly by his side and takes a step towards them and almost falls for it until Usopp snatches his wrist. Zoro clicks his tongue.

Usopp sighs. “God you’re so easy. I can’t believe you’d let him bait you like that.”

Sanji flushes. “What? No! I wasn’t going to fall for it! I was just going to check his temperature and nothing else!”

“Sure babe,” Usopp says. “Sanji you’re the cook you’re the last person we need getting sick please don’t let this idiot tempt you.”

“Yeah which is why Usopp should join us!” Luffy rises in the bed and grabs Usopp’s hand. “Double the people means Zoro would get better even faster!”

And then he drags him into bed.

“Wait Luffy! Ugh Zoro you’re so sweaty! Gross!”

Zoro just smiles before plastering himself all over Usopp making it that much worse. “Oi stop that! I fucking hate you!”

Zoro hums “sure” while Luffy just laughs. “Don’t worry Usopp you’ll get used to it.”

“That’s the last thing I want!”

“Wait wait wait,” Sanji interrupts their tomfoolery. “If Usopp sleeps here then who am I sleeping with tonight??”

“That’s what you’re worried about? This idiot is trying to infect me with his stupid germs and that is what you’re most worried about??”

“It just gets so lonely~”

“You’ll just have to figure that out because it’s already too late for Usopp I’m afraid,” Zoro kisses Usopp’s cheek and then looks up at him through his lashes. “But the offer still stands.”

“Well-“

“Sanji!”

“Okay fine! I’ll just sleep all by myself in our big stupid bed while the three of you get to cuddle here all warm and happy.”

He does not do that and just ends up sleeping on the infirmary floor because he’s an idiot and he occasionally reaches out to touch Usopp’s hand that’s dangling over the side of the bed because he’s crazy like that.

Of course the next ones who get sick are Luffy and Usopp. It doesn’t happen right away it doesn’t even hit them at the same time. Luffy is the one who goes down first because he’s the one who spent the most time with Zoro and unlike Usopp he was willing to kiss Zoro while he was sick because he genuinely didn’t believe he would get it but he does.

Luffy does not like getting sick. Does not like how weak it makes him feel and most of all how lonely it is when his boyfriends or friends aren’t there to keep him company. Reminds him too much of being small and being sick and alone because Ace went out to hunt and he couldn’t go with him. And now he’s thinking about Ace which is a whole bag worms and fuck being alone with his thoughts like this is just torture.

So he gets extra clingy because he can’t stand being alone. And of course his boyfriends indulge him holding his hand and talking to him to distract him to keep the bad thoughts at bay.

“I’m sorry,” he’ll tell Sanji. “I should have listened to you. If had none of this would have happened. It’s okay you can go back to work I’ll be okay.”

Sanji would normally chastise him but he hears the vulnerability in his voice and just squeezes his hand and then brings it to his lips. “Nonsense, my love. I’ll stay with you until you feel better.”

Luffy tears up a bit. “Even if you get sick?”

“Even if I get sick.”

Usopp would make a makeshift bed out of chairs and lay down so they’re at the same eye level and it feels like they are on the same bed even if they aren’t and reaches across the vast distance to hold his hand and make him laugh with his stories some fantastical some real(albeit exaggerated) about the things he has missed. Luffy will listen with rapt attention until he dozes off. Sometimes Usopp will fall asleep holding his hand and Zoro and Sanji have to come collect him.

Some nights Zoro will sneak in after the two others have fallen asleep. Just to watch over him and if Luffy is awake he’ll wrap him up in some sheets from head to toe to prevent himself from getting sick again and then cuddles him to sleep. Luffy is so happy despite how stuffy and uncomfortable it is. Just happy not to be alone.

——————

Sanji is just in the kitchen making breakfast one morning when Usopp comes up behind him and wraps his arms around him and rests his head on his shoulder. “Sanji I think I’m getting sick.”

“You too??” He checks his forehead and sure enough Usopp’s burning up. “You guys are going down like flies. But before we tell Chopper give me one final kiss.”

“Do you really think that’s a good idea.” Then he laughs at the downtrodden look on Sanji’s face and kisses him. “Guess it’s fine I don’t think it’s that serious anyway.”

It’s that serious and he ends up joining an overjoyed Luffy in the infirmary. Hurray a sick buddy!

“I really do not like how happy you are that I’m sick. Feels like a red flag.”

“What?? I’m not happy you’re sick I’m happy we’re sick together!”

“Diabolical.”

“I’ll show you diabolical!” Then he just starts kissing him all over.

Sanji is just distraught that they’re both sick now. “I haven’t gotten any Luffy kisses in so long.” Okay maybe that’s not the only thing he’s distraught about but still!

“No one’s stopping you.”

“Shut up Marimo this is all your fault! If you’d just learn to wear a shirt none of this would have happened!”

“Oh please you love it when I don’t wear a shirt.”

“When it’s hot out! …wait did you just say nothing is stopping me?” Sanji’s eyes go wide. “Don’t tell me you have been making out with Luffy this entire time!”

“What moron would do that!”

Then they get kicked out of the infirmary for being too loud.

It hits Usopp a lot harder than the other two. Because unlike his boyfriends he’s just regular person and whatever felled them straight up knocks him out. He’s delirious and barely conscious for the most of it which makes the others quite distressed. Especially Luffy who is the closest to him(proximity wise) and who ends up seeing the worst of it. He will try and talk to Usopp but only gets short responses back and sometimes they aren’t even coherent and make no sense. This just makes him even more distressed which leads to Luffy staying up all night despite also being sick and needing his rest just to watch Usopp sleep afraid that if he falls asleep Usopp will just stopped breathing. No matter how much Chopper reassures him Usopp will be fine there will be this tiny voice at the back of his head whispering what if and he just can’t risk it.

Even after Luffy gets better he’ll lie and say he is still sick just so he isn’t forced to leave. He’ll wrap around him several times cocooning him in his arms in the dead of night whispering in Usopp’s ear to please not leave him he couldn’t bear to lose anyone else. And then sigh a breath of relief when he feels Usopp squeeze him back.

Sanji is just as bad as him staying up late at the infirmary not leaving until Zoro has to physically lift him and carry him out. He redoubles his efforts whipping up dish after dish that he hopes will help. Zoro often have to force to take a break. Zoro is worried too but unlike Luffy and Sanji he knows restraint(when it concerns others that are not him lol) so he ends up looking Sanji so he doesn’t overwork himself and ends up bedridden too. Two sick people are already bad enough.

Once he gets him in bed Sanji would still stay up worrying and confiding in Zoro that he’s afraid that they may not get better alluding but not outright telling him about his mother’s illness. She had been looked a lot better than Usopp and she still died and so what if the same happened to either Luffy or Usopp?? Then were would he be? Just all alone with stupid Marimo he would say all while burying his face in Zoro’s chest trembling. “Don’t be stupid they’re a lot stronger than some stupid cold they’ll both be fine In no time especially after you made that dish? What was it called again?”

He will try to distract by making him talk about those legendary dishes he learned from Iva until he falls asleep.

Zoro who’s usually so unflappable ends up infected by all Luffy’s and Sanji’s anxious energy and just ends up feeling useless since there’s nothing he can do but watch over Luffy and Usopp while they sleep and helping Luffy get out of his spirals once the waiting gets to be too much.

But because Sanji can’t be stopped(Zoro is too m he just isn’t as vocal about it) they end up sleeping in the infirmary too. Making a makeshift bed on the floor much to Chopper’s chagrin.

Usopp wakes up early one morning finally released from the ravages of his fever to see his three boyfriends in the room with him. Luffy clutching his waist and Sanji holding his hand which has started cramping from the impractical position. He looks up and makes direct eye contact with Zoro who smiles with heavy eye bags under his eyes and says “took you long enough.”

Usopp reaches out and touches his face and brings it closer so he can kiss it. “Thank you for waiting.”

There’s a little bit of a celebration once the other two wake up and everything is right with the world.

Until Sanji gets sick.

“And this is why I said you shouldn’t work so hard stupid cook.”

“Are we cursed? Is this why this keeps happening?? Feels like we’re stuck in a bad dream!”

“Don’t be stupid this is because Sanji was stupid and worked himself sick.”

“Maybe so but-Luffy!”

Luffy stops where he had been crawling into bed into Sanji’s outstretched arms who’s crooning sweet nothings to him.

“What? You can’t get sick twice from the same cold. I stayed with you even after I got better and I’m feeling just fine.”

“That cannot possibly be true.”

“You gotta admit he has a point.”

“I do not want to hear that from you patient 0. I blame you for all of this.”

Zoro just shrugs and makes Sanji scooch over.

But because there was no one there to correct them and both Zoro and Sanji agreed with Luffy outvoting Usopp 3-1 he had to let it happen. And to no one’s surprise they all got sick again.

[fetishfairytales2]

Besties 4 (Story)

This was originally written as a continuation of a story by @wittlesissyb4by called Besties. Check out all their fantastic stories on Tumblr and SubscribeStar.

—————

Besties 4: Mommy’s Going on a Date!

“Ooh, speaking of pegs, I forgot to mention what Connor got me for our one-month anniversary!” Heather excitedly left the room and came back holding a massive 8-inch strap-on! I couldn’t believe this thing; it was flesh-colored with bulging veins and even pubic hair! "Wow, girl, talk about a detailed replica!” I laughed as she held it up. She wobbled it by the harness with a wink: “Get this; it's modeled after Connor's cock!” Heather was beaming with pride as she showed it off to me. "It's my favorite way to mess with Brandon," she boasted. “Imagine being fucked by the same cock that stole your girlfriend, who’s also the one fucking you with it!”

Brandon was literally screwed once Heather had enough of his crap. She was totally in her element, totally ruining his life. And honestly, I was so here for it. The best part of it? When she told me, she made him moan Connor's name while she pounded his sorry ass with that big fake dick. Like, could he be any more pathetic? I almost felt bad for him.

“Aw…” Heather cooed in her mommy voice again at the trembling sissy, “Isn't that right, Brandi? Don't you just love it when mommy helps you practice how to get ready for daddy-sissy time? It's just so precious and fun, isn't it?” She turned to me and stuck out her tongue; She just loves when I make her beg for Daddy's cock to fuck her deeper, trust me!” Tears of humiliation were flowing down the sissy's flushed face. "And watching in the mirror while Mommy stretches his little sissy hole? It’s just her favorite!”

Heather's phone buzzed, and she practically flew out of her seat when she saw that it was Connor. "Oh my God, it's him!" She exclaimed, her voice dripping with excitement like a teenager on her first date. I couldn't help but smile at her excitement, glad to see her so happy, replacing Brandon’s worthless ass. 

"Answer it, girl," I urged her on. Of course, the minute her phone hit her ear, she tried to sound flirty. She was using the ‘sexy voice’ I always tease her about. Ugh, she was so typical. "I can't leave; I have a girlfriend visiting me," she continued, emphasizing the word "girlfriend" with a smirk and a wink. "But I miss you too, she sighed, clearly missing her new boytoy. "But like, I also really miss that dick," she added with a laugh, earning an eye roll from me. But hey, she got rid of the fuckface, so who am I to judge?

Heather was clearly loving her new life with Connor. "Sweetie, you better hope you ride dick better than you flirt over the phone!" I laughed. “But if you’re so desperate for a good time, why don’t you just go over there and throw yourself at him?” She stuck a thumb at Brandi. “What am I going to do with this loser if I go out?”

Brandon was hating every minute of this, and I really wanted to make it worse for him. "Girl, don't even worry about it,” I said with a smile. “You need some good dick, and I happen to know just the person who would be thrilled to take care of your little sissy cucky baby while you're away," I teased Heather, winking at Brandon, who was now looking terrified. Heather couldn't contain her laughter. 

"And who might that be?" Heather asked, raising an eyebrow, clearly interested in wherever I was going with this. "Babysitter Lyndsay!" I giggled. "I could take care of Brandi all night long if you'd like. Maybe even until the morning." Heather turned to Brandon and mockingly asked for his opinion, knowing he had no real say in the matter. "What do you think, Princess? Should Ms. Lyndsey be your babysitter while Mommy goes and has a 'playdate' with Daddy?"

I couldn't help but smirk as I watched Brandon's face turn a bright shade of red. Heather owned him now, though, and there wasn't a thing he could do about it. "Aww, are you not sure, sweetie?" Even with a gag in his mouth, he was clearly very pissed. But Heather just continued to mess with him. "What's wrong, little man? Feeling frustrated that Daddy gets all the attention while you're stuck in Pampers?" 

I had to stifle a laugh; Brandon looked so sad he might cry. She turned to me, her eyes lighting up, and shrugged. "Ms. Lyndsey is very kind to want to babysit, so make sure you behave, Brandi! Maybe Mommy will have a special surprise for breakfast tomorrow!"

"Surprise?" I asked, knowing that whatever it was, it would be fun for us and terrible for Brandon. Heather just winked as she headed toward her bedroom. "Brandi's on a special, uh, 'protein only diet'. You'll see what I mean." 

As she disappeared down the hallway, I was left alone with Brandon. I put on my sweetest baby talk voice. "Aww, whose a cute sissy baby? Is it Brandi? Yes, it is!" I said as I grabbed his chin and brought our faces close together. "Aww, go ahead and cry for Ms. Lyndsey, sissy baby. No matter how much of a bitch you think Heather is, I’m going to fuck with you ten times worse.” The worthless loser looked like he was going to dirty his Pampers right there. He was so scared.

"Oh, honey," I cooed as I pushed his head back and stood up, my perfectly manicured nails tapping against my chin in fake contemplation. "Heather never mentioned my college boyfriend, did she? Brad was quite the catch, not like you at all," I sneered, relishing in the sight of Brandon quivering with fear. 

"Brad knew how to handle a strong woman. I can't say the same for you, sweetheart," I taunted, taking a sip of my 8th glass of wine for the evening, feeling giddy and like a bad bitch. “He was a real man, but he loved being told what to do in bed. I learned all about fun kinks—teasing and denial, chastity, you name it!” 

Fuck, this was getting spicy. Who knew my best friend’s loser boyfriend dressed as a sissy would do it for me? “Oh, Brandi, you sweet sissy girlie,” let me tell you it was hot!” I placed my index finger in front of Brandon’s face. “I had him wrapped around my perfectly manicured finger. I'd tease and please him, but never let him have all the fun. And he would just beg and plead with me to let him cum. But you know, a girl needs to get her fill too, and I wouldn't keep him waiting too long; I'm not that cruel...to real men.”

The wine was clearly helping me loosen up, and the scared look in Brandon’s eyes was definitely giving me a rush. "You," I snapped, grabbing Brandon's hair and pulling him closer to me. His eyes were fixated on my tight, short skirt. Wow, I was turned on just thinking about the night I could spend ruining poor Brandi. "You, though, will never, ever think about touching another woman as long as I'm around! Unlike Brad, I don’t care how much you beg; I am that cruel to worthless sissy losers." I growled, giving his hair a rough tug to make sure he was paying attention.

"And of course, there will be a lot of teasing for me and begging from you, I promise,” I said with a wink. Brandon's wide-eyed stare showed me that he knew he was fucked, and I couldn't help but smile. Sure, Heather had the strap-on, but I had this sissy by his caged cock.

My fun was interrupted by Heather calling to us from the bedroom. "Ms. Lyndsey, would you mind bringing Brandi in here? I want him to see my outfit for Daddy tonight!" I rolled my eyes and smirked at the pathetic little sissy kneeling before me. “Aww, sissy, are you, like, totally stoked to check out Mommy's sexy outfit?" I sneered at Brandon, enjoying his embarrassed blush as he shamefully looked down at the ground. I had to laugh at the pathetic sight of him standing there, afraid to even make eye contact with me. 

“Come on, Brandi, a sissy cuck like you must love thinking about your girlfriend getting fucked by a real man!” He was crying again. What a loser. “You're such a lucky little sissy girl; you even get to watch her get all dressed up for her date," I taunted, playfully poking his chest. He tried to shake back tears and just stared at the ground. "Fine, let's go see Mommy then, little crybaby." I rolled my eyes and firmly spanked his diapered bottom; “stop throwing temper tantrums. No one actually cares about how you feel."

[demetriandelibinaryboyfriends]

HIIIIII HAPPY MIGUETRI MONDAY!!! It was only a matter of time before my post-S6 shitposting about them started, I fear ^^;

ANYWAYS I was thinking about this mlm-ass hoodie everyone is talking about, and I need to yap about my own headcanon about it. Bear with me!!!

So tbh this seems like...a really weird wardrobe choice to me. Miguel is, imho, the closest thing this cast of characters has to a Token Straight Guy™️. (Like I know I kinda ship him with Demetri or in a poly Miguetreli arrangement, but I'm mostly clowning! It's kind of an AU for me because to me he doesn't actually read as queer in canon.)

But this hoodie is just. Undeniably the gay mlm flag??? Plain and simple??? Out of all the characters to put in this article of clothing, this is baffling me the most. Especially showing him in it while he trains with his long-term girlfriend who he loves very much???

(Side note: I feel like Miguel is aware of what the mlm flag looks like. Moon told him about all the pride flags! Although him accidentally buying a gay pride flag hoodie would in fact be very funny, it doesn't strike me as particularly likely.)

So here's what I'm thinking: This is not a hoodie Miguel Diaz bought. It was a gift from Demetri.

If anyone's been following me for a while, they might have heard me talk about how I think queerness runs in Demetri's family. He seems to have a single mom, and he's never once mentioned his dad. It's very much giving "lesbian woman who didn't realize her sexuality until she already had a kid with a man, for better or for worse." And Demetri's dad being gone...maybe he left Demetri's mom because he was gay??? Or left her FOR a man, perhaps??? I think Demetri's parents 100% had him during a lavender marriage they may or may not have even REALIZED was a lavender marriage.

Anyways, these are just my wild little headcanons, but I do think Demetri's mom has always known he's gay. She sees a lot of herself and Dem's dad in him, and she doesn't want him to make the same mistakes she did and wait until middle age to finally accept his sexuality. SO, naturally, she starts trying to nudge him toward...Realizing Some Things. Including buying and gifting him a fucking gay flag hoodie. Because, like her son, Mrs. Alexopoulos lacks any and all subtlety.

Demetri realizes what she's trying to do, but he pretends he doesn't. He's all "Wow! Thanks! I love the colors!" and then proceeds to never wear this item of clothing to school ever because the poor man gets bullied for enough already. He wears it in private and maybe to the grocery store or something, but not where he'll be around other kids (except maybe Eli, who he has definitely bitched about this at length to. "UGH, why does everyone think I am gay, I am NOT gay!!! I like women, Eli!!! I totally want Yasmine to spit in my face!!! I also want to make out with and exchange handjobs with women, I promise!!! No, I'm not getting defensive!!!"). Hence why we have not seen The Gay Flag Hoodie until now.

Flash forward to The Karate Wars. Demetri has started training on the regular and has grown MASSIVELY, especially his fucking shoulders. Tragically, they are now too broad and jacked and he is too much of an Absolute Unit to fit into the mlm flag hoodie anymore 💔 But it's still perfectly good!!! Quite comfortable and honestly barely worn! So what does Demetri do????

He gives it to his bestie like the generous closeted hero he is.

Miguel is aware he's wearing the mlm flag, by the way. He is okay with this. This is his way of showing he's an ally! Although it WOULD lead to a very amusing conversation with Sam when they first meet up to train.

Sam, eyeing the mlm flag hoodie dubiously: Miguel, um...is there something you wanted to tell me? Miguel: Oh! It was a present from Demetri! Sam, who also absolutely knows What's Up here: ...no explanation necessary, actually.

[sixhours]

i know you by heart - chapter 8

Series Chapter Index | Read on AO3 | Complete

Rating: Explicit, 18+, here be smut Series tags: The Last of Us, The Last of Us (HBO), Prospect, Joel Miller x Ezra, Joel & Ellie, Ezra & Cee, Joel is bad at feelings and relationships, Ellie is a little shit (affectionate), mostly follows canon after season 1, SMUT, gay sex, bisexual!Joel, period-typical homophobia, alcoholism behavior, light angst, angst with a happy ending, romance, age gap (~10ish years), I've probably forgotten some so please let me know <3

Chapter notes: The happily ever after. <3 Smut ahead, it's clearly marked.

He finds Ezra leaning on the porch railing, looking out over the back yard. It’s a crystal-clear December night, the bitter-cold air bringing every star into sharp focus against the inky black sky above.

“What’re you doin’ out here?” Joel asks. “S’fuckin’ freezin’.”

“Ah. Just admiring nature’s majesty and marveling at our place in the cosmos, I suppose.”

Joel joins him, back to the railing, sidling up to him until he can feel the shared heat of their bodies instead of the chilled air. Then he squeezes a little closer just because he can.

“Isn’t it a wonder to think that a billion different possibilities coalesced in just the right way to make the very star system, the very planet on which we find ourselves? The light from the stars takes billions of years to find us. Somewhere, some other civilization could be watching this very universe being born and think it nothing but a pretty illumination in the sky.”

“Are they freezin’ their asses off, too?”

Ezra breathes a low laugh into the night. “Such infinite complexity suggests that, perhaps elsewhere in this great ethereal realm, there exists another world similarly ravaged by plague, with similar creatures looking beyond their atmosphere and pondering the possibility of our very existence at this precise moment.”

“I reckon they’d have better things to worry about,” he grunts.

“Perhaps. And yet…here we are. Watching the sky, contemplating our place amidst the chaos.”

Joel huffs a sigh. “You’re startin’ to sound like Ellie.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, cher .”

He ducks his chin, folds his arms across his chest, toes at a loose board on the porch. “So, what…you tryin’ to wish yourself off this planet for a while? Thinkin’ of doin’ some space travel?”

“No, no,” he chuckles softly. “Just thinking how fortunate I am to have found you in this universe, songbird.”

When he finally finds his voice, all Joel can utter is a quiet, “That so, huh?”

“Undoubtedly,” Ezra stands, sliding over to thread his arm around Joel’s waist, lightly fixing him to the railing. The cold is momentarily forgotten. His hands slide down to slip into the back pockets of his jeans–he can think of worse ways to warm his fingers–and his breath is stolen by a kiss.

“Joel, where’d you put the–ugh, they’re doing it again,” Ellie's voice rings out from the back door.

The first time she caught them, the chastest peck, her theatrics could be heard three blocks over. At least tonight, she just rolls her eyes and goes back to looking for whatever she was looking for in the kitchen.

“Get a room!” Cee calls helpfully.

“Christ,” Joel breathes. “S’my own damn house.”

“Another time, then,” Ezra sighs, gaze lingering long enough to send a shiver across the back of Joel’s neck.

Then a commotion, the sound of pots banging in the kitchen, Cee and Ellie laughing, and Joel reluctantly pulls away.

“C’mon, spaceman,” he rumbles. “Girls are waitin’.”

“What’s on the cinematic docket for this evening?” Ezra asks as they head inside. They’ve started sharing movie nights along with the occasional family meal. It’s been a slow and tentative process, not for any hesitation on the part of the girls, who are clearly fast friends.

It makes Joel think, not for the first time and not without a pang of grief, that Sarah would have made a good big sister.

“ It’s a Wonderful Life . Ellie’s pick,” Joel grimaces. “Not my favorite, but t’is the season, I guess.”

Ezra frowns. “Oh…pity. I abhor this trope.”

“You’re tellin’ me,” Joel mutters, then stops. “Wait, didn’t you…weren’t you there last year?”

“Your young prodigy may have cajoled me into attendance.”

Joel blinks. “She did what now?”

Ezra smirks. “I suspect she had it out for us long before we were ever in the loop, songbird. As I said, she’s wise beyond her years.”

“Damn,” he whispers. “That little–”

“Shit!”

There’s more clattering from the kitchen and the faint smell of burnt popcorn. And more giggling.

“Ellie?”

“Cee?”

“It’s fine, we’re…fine!” Ellie calls back.

“Nothing to see here!” Cee adds, as if that makes it better.

“Y’all, please don’t set the damn kitchen on fire again,” Joel calls, shuddering at the vivid memory of flames licking up the sides of an overflowing pot of popcorn left on the stove too long.

“That was one time ,” Ellie says.

“Zero times is the number I’m lookin’ for, kid.”

“Should we…intervene?” Ezra asks, nodding toward the commotion.

But then the girls enter the living room carrying two bowls of popcorn. There are flecks of the stuff stuck to Cee’s sweater. Later, Joel will walk into the kitchen and find the source of their laughter, kernels scattered on every surface, and he’ll have to harp on Ellie to sweep up the mess.

Yeah, the girls are getting along fine.

Joel takes his usual corner of the couch and Ellie plops down next to him, stretching out her legs to hog the rest. Ezra takes the other corner, and Cee opts to keep to the floor, leaning against Ezra’s knee with her bowl in her lap.

“Ready?”

“No,” Joel and Ezra grunt in unison.

“Too bad, suckers,” Ellie declares cheerfully as Cee presses Play.

An hour into the movie finds three of the four asleep; unfortunately for Joel, he’s not one of them. Ellie has dozed off against his shoulder, her feet tucked under Ezra’s thigh. He picks a stray kernel of popcorn out of her hair and tosses it into the mostly empty bowl. Cee leans against Ezra’s knee, and his head is tipped over the back of the couch, snoring.

“Buncha deserters,” Joel whispers, thinking he should reach for the remote and stop the stupid movie, but he doesn’t. Instead, he places a kiss on Ellie’s temple and watches his family sleep, savoring the rare moment of calm.

They have good days and bad days. On the good ones, they practice guitar and watch movies and share meals and she kicks his ass at Boggle. The words come easily and the silences are warm and comfortable and it’s almost like old times.

The bad days are less frequent, but they hurt like a scab. Eventually the wound will scar, but until then, it’s an irritation, too easily picked at and never quite healed.

Then there are days when she doesn’t speak to him at all. Days when she’s up and out of the house before the sun, where she doesn’t come home until after dinner or, worse, she just doesn’t come home. The first time that happens, they have a talk. Now she leaves a note on the kitchen counter, usually a single word: Dina’s .

He still hasn’t figured out how to bring that up in conversation.

It will never be the same, he knows. Her trust was a fragile thing to begin with, and his lies made cracks in the foundation of their relationship that only time can repair. 

But they’re trying.

Today is one of the good days. When he jostles her awake, she lingers sleepily against his arm. At the door, she indulges him with a hug, even hangs on long enough to let him plant a kiss on her forehead. Yep, definitely one of the good days.

“You stayin’ with Cee tonight?”

“Mmhm. You two can do…whatever it is you do when we’re not around,” she says, wrinkling her nose.

“Y’mean sleep?” he says, barely stifling a yawn.

“Sure. Don’t miss me too much.”

“Stay outta trouble, both of you.”

Cee has an arm around Ezra’s waist in a brief side hug. They’re not usually so affectionate, still walking that strange line between close friends and family.

“Goodnight, birdie,” Ezra offers, voice going soft.

They don’t talk about Cee's father and Joel doesn’t press it. There are times when she looks at him as though she wants to ask him something–her father’s last words, or if he spoke of her, or if his death was drawn out or quick and painless–or maybe the weight of the death on his conscience has him imagining things. Part of him will always be waiting for the consequences of his actions to darken his doorstep.

They stand in the doorway and watch the girls walk down the street and around the corner until they’re out of sight. Joel wonders if Ezra has to resist the same urge to follow them until he knows they’re home safe. Tonight they’ll crash in Ezra’s office and plug Cee’s headphones into the record player and drink the beers in the fridge–the ones Ezra stocks specifically for this small act of teenage rebellion. Joel sighs as he closes up, thinks if that’s the most trouble they get up to tonight, he’ll count them lucky.

He leaves the door unlocked.

They really had intended to sleep.

Joel is not young. Ezra is not much younger. And while they had plenty of opportunities for alone time now that they were fully out, much of their original boyish urgency has faded, replaced by a comfortable companionship that’s probably more fitting for their ages.

And that was just fine.

But Ezra’s easy declaration on the porch lit a slow-burning flame. Skin to skin, warm and curled around each other, hands wander and find familiar holds. Ezra’s lips trace that spot on Joel’s throat that makes little electric sparks shimmer up his spine, and soon there are two pairs of boxers on the floor and Joel is caged by his partner’s broad shoulders, pinned to the bed under his lithe frame.

+++++++++++++++++++++++SMUT+CUT++++++++++++++++++++++++

Ezra prepares him well, pushes inside until he’s sheathed to the hilt, so full the blunt edges of Joel’s nails dig into the meat of Ezra’s lower back until his body remembers and relents.

Joel ignores the throbbing ache in his groin, content to watch as Ezra’s eyes flutter shut and re-open, heavy-lidded, pupils blown wide. He admires the furrow in his brow, the slack in his jaw, feels the taut rippling of his stomach against him as his weeping cock slicks the fine hairs at his navel. He strokes the patchy scruff on Ezra’s jaw, pulls him down to nip at his chin, lick into his mouth, press a kiss to the crescent scar on his cheek.

“Good?” Ezra whispers thickly, eliciting a dazed nod before their mouths meet. He lowers himself onto his elbow, resting his weight more firmly on Joel, changing the angle until he’s rutting in tight, shallow thrusts, hitting that spot inside that makes Joel groan.

He reaches back and finds Ezra’s hand, grasping it, letting their fingers twine like the rest of them. His thumb brushes the tip of Ezra’s tongue where it peeks out of the purse of his lips. Ezra groans and takes it inside the warm hollow of his mouth, bites down gently on the knuckle, traces the whorls of his fingerprint.

“You gonna come for me?” Joel growls, pulling him down until they’re chest to chest, hand cupping the back of his neck, threading in his hair and tugging gently. The other reaches between them, giving himself a few lazy strokes to ease the ache.

“Mmm, songbird…I…ohhh, amour , you…fuck…please…”

It comes out as a whimper, a whine, and Joel chuckles. For once, his partner has nothing smart to say as his thrusts grow harder, more erratic. Ezra’s mouth crashes into his, messy and desperate, feeding him a moan that fills Joel’s chest with the force of it. Ezra’s cock swells and throbs, warmth spreading sticky between his thighs, then he sags against his chest, panting and trembling with the aftershocks.

Joel urges them to the side and wraps his leg around Ezra’s hips, keeping them joined for just a little longer. Joel gently strokes his ribs, taking pleasure in the way the muscles twitch and jump under his fingers until he lets out an overstimulated hiss into his neck.

“ Amour …”

Joel grins, studying his partner’s face, the fire in his gut settling to an ember. He could almost be content to stay this way; sleep is hard-won, and if he allowed himself to drift, to pull the covers over them and close his eyes, it would be welcome. But then Ezra comes back to himself, sighing and nuzzling into Joel’s chest, circles one nipple and then the other with his tongue.

“I believe we have additional business to attend to,” he says, reaching down to stroke him slowly, letting his foreskin do the work, sliding over and over.

“Y-yeah?” Joel rasps, tongue thick in his mouth as his cock hardens under his partner’s touch.

“Tell me what you want, cher .”

“Mmm, I…ah, fuck, Ez, I–”

A growl rumbles up from deep within his chest and he pushes Ezra onto his back, covering his body, kissing him deeply. Ezra’s fingers stroke the planes of Joel’s chest, circling a spit-slick nipple with one finger, slides lower to trace the thick scar on his stomach and cup his arousal as it throbs and kicks between them. Joel hums in pleasure, momentarily distracted by these ministrations, then remembers what he intended to do. Carefully he crawls up the length of his body and straddles the other man’s chest. Ezra’s eyes flash with interest.

“Oh, I see we’re trying something new, songbird. I greatly look forward to seeing how you intend to–”

“Ez,” Joel says fondly, breathlessly. “Shut. Up.”

He cants his hips forward until his cock is grazing Ezra’s lips, parting them slowly. Forward, forward, watching the length of his arousal disappear until he feels the head hit the back of his throat. He thrusts experimentally, eliciting a choked gagging noise as Ezra’s eyes widen. Joel pulls back.

“This okay?” he whispers, suddenly contrite.

Ezra has the audacity to grin, and if Joel wasn’t already balanced on them, his knees would probably give out at the sight.

Then Ezra’s lips lock around his length and he sucks, hard .

“Ah, fuck, fuck,” he grunts, flames fanned to a roar, a blistering heat twining its way up the base of his spine. Ezra responds by gripping Joel’s ass with his hand and giving a sharp tug, pulling him forward, forcing Joel to brace himself against the wall.

“Jesus, Ez,” he growls. “You want it, huh? You want more a’ that?”

As if in answer, Ezra gags again, a tear escaping the corner of his eye. Fascinated, Joel reaches down to cup the man’s cheek, gentle even as his cock hits the back of his throat again, and again, and again. He lets Ezra set the rhythm, lets the waves of pleasure wash over him with every stretch and press of his cock deeper into the warm, wet cavern of his mouth.

Joel can’t look away, can’t tear his gaze from Ezra’s hungry eyes, his expression so trusting, so loving he aches with it.

“Yeah, you like that,” he whispers as one thumb delicately traces the track of a tear, wiping it away, a gesture that’s almost too sweet, too tender for the kind of fucking they’re doing.

“Take it, baby,” he murmurs. “Take it. All of it. There ya go.”

He groans as Ezra sucks, the back of his throat gripping the sensitive head while his tongue strokes and swirls around the length of his shaft. It’s not long before they find a steady rhythm that has Joel chasing his release.

“Alright,” Joel grits out. “Alright, yeah, I’m…Ez, Christ…so good…fuck…”

Ezra grins again, and any control Joel might have had over the situation slips from his grasp with a whimper. He’s at the mercy of Ezra’s dark eyes and that cocky smile, lips glossy with slick. He gives a low chuckle that sends pleasant vibrations up the length of Joel’s cock, then his strong, capable hand squeezes his ass, forcing him deeper. Joel tries to groan out a warning, a barely intelligible sound of pure pleasure before he falls over the edge. His forehead rests heavily against the wall as every nerve in his body is set alight, as his cock throbs and spills down the back of Ezra’s throat.

+++++++++++++++++++++END+SMUT+CUT++++++++++++++++++++++

Limbs like jelly, head swimming, he manages to extract himself from his precarious position without kneeing his partner in the face.

“You alright?” he murmurs, feeling suddenly self-conscious. “Didn’t hurt you?”

“Not in the least, mon cœur .”

Joel kisses him on the nose, nuzzles against it until he’s stretched out alongside him, half pinning Ezra’s body to the bed with his own.

Ezra gives a contented sigh of approval as Joel trails the gentle slope of his partner’s stomach, the fur at the junction of his thighs, the thick length of him soft and spent. He tucks his face into the crook of Ezra’s neck and breathes him in, wrapping his waist with one arm.

They should clean up. Even as he’s thinking it, his eyes are heavy, and it’s all he can do to fumble for the blanket they kicked to the foot of the bed. He pulls the comforter up to cover both of them and drifts in that post-orgasmic haze, face pressed to the side of Ezra’s neck, feeling the comforting thump of the other man’s pulse against his skin.

“Sing for me, songbird,” Ezra whispers into his hair.

Joel snorts. “Hell no. Guitar’s downstairs.”

“Last I checked, you don’t need a guitar to sing.”

“Yeah, but it covers all my mistakes. Ain’t got the voice for it.”

Ezra scoffs. “If you don’t, I will, and then you’ll deeply regret it.”

“Can’t be that bad,” he mutters, tipping his head up to bite at his earlobe, soothing the nip with his tongue. Goosebumps ripple along the curve of Ezra’s neck.

“Very well. You’ve been warned.”

He takes a deep breath. The most broken and off-key sound comes out of Ezra’s mouth and Joel is ready to smother him before he’s finished the first word.

“Christ, stop that racket,” he gasps, pulling back as Ezra’s laughter bursts and shudders against his palm. “Holy mother of…you weren’t kiddin’.”

“I hate to say I told you so.”

“That’s bullshit, you love to.”

“It’s true. But now you have to sing for me, amour .”

“Fine, fine, I’ll…just don’t do that again. ‘Least not til the rest of my hearin’ goes. Jesus.”

“It’s a deal,” Ezra says.

“The hell do you want me to sing?”

“I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

Joel sighs. Outside has grown dark, the stars from earlier in the evening obscured by thick clouds. The first flakes of a winter storm have begun to fall, snowfall illuminated in a faint silver glow by the single street light outside. He can just barely make out the shape of the record album propped on his dresser for safekeeping. He never did give it back, and Ezra hasn’t asked.

Joel clears his throat.

“For you…there’ll be no crying,” he begins, whisper-singing the song that has become his namesake into the crook of Ezra’s neck. “For you…the sun will be shinin’.”

“But I feel that when I’m with you, it’s alright,” he says, leveraging himself up, brushing the sweat-damp hair from Ezra’s temple, taken by the shine in his partner’s eyes. “I know it’s right.”

He ducks his head, murmuring the words into the hollow at the center of Ezra’s throat, punctuating the ending with a gentle kiss. “And the songbirds keep singin’ like they know the score.”

His voice is clear and unbroken as their noses brush, as his hand cradles his jaw, the softest intake of breath as he whispers the final lyric against Ezra’s willing lips.

“And I love you, I love you, I love you like never before.”

Fin.

[balancingdiet]

So i just finished the movie earlier and I am in so much feels right now HAHAHA. Just a mini rant regarding the movie! MAJOR spoilers ahead

i'm so happy i went in blind for the movie so i literally have 0 information about it. The only thing I know was Heiji and Kaitou Kid were gonna be it. So colour me surprise when there were a lot more easter eggs and fun references to canon scenes than I expected, and I do semi-enjoy them. But I was truly SHOOKEDTH when Aoko appeared. I literally gasped and was screaming internally in the cinema because MY BABY GIRL??? While it made sense that she should be there when Inspector Nakamori was shot, I still didn't expect her to be included in the movie at all. Every scene with her were the best moments I had tbh, followed closely by Kaitou Kid's angst when he couldn't save Inspector Nakamori (hmm yes i love the pain and guilt and emotional distress HAHAHAH) I would probably need a second or third watch to fully grasp how they solve the riddles to the treasure thingy, but I'm okay to cast that concern aside in exchange for enjoyable, strong character-driven moments! But sadly, the dynamics were kinda lacking in this movie for me. There were just so many things going on, with the confession plan, then the murder, then the kidnapping, then the riddle, then the story of the swords... you get it. This movie had so many things going on that nothing was going on at the same time? I felt like if I were to watch any other movie with Heiji&Conan/Kid&Conan/Heiji&Kid in it, their dynamics would be the same and underdeveloped. In fact, what I love were actually the unconventional or lesser popular dynamics? Like I mentioned, Aoko really steal the show, and I enjoyed her interaction with Conan and referencing to Kaito's younger self LOL. And when Ran noticed and was supportive of Heiji's confession plan, their moments were super nice and cute too! (Though it was no shocker when Heiji's confession was ruined, once again. At this point I really do feel bad for him.) Now, to the important part: the cousin reveal HAHAHHAHA When Heiji asked Conan if he has a sibling or something, I was kinda "hmm??", but I didn't thought they would really go with the reveal in this movie. While being a KaiShin shipper, I still adore ShinRan and KaiAo a lot (those KaiAo crumbs cured my sadness HAHAHA). I'm not sure if I would incorporate this new reveal into any future KaiShin fics (if I'm writing any), but still I am kinda disappointed that they decided to reveal it this way, like it's just a "by the way thing". But what was worse was that Toichi is indeed really alive, with this information backed and followed up since the Midnight Crow arc in Magic Kaito Manga. This "plot twist" actually felt rather flat, like it was done just for the shock factor and not for substance. Like there really wasn't a point for it? Unless the dcmk verse is really going to unite and they are going to take down the BO + Snake gang together in the future? Idk. This whole thing feels cheap... and an unnecessary plot device. Honestly, it would be a lot cooler if Phantom lady (Chikage) plays a more active role than Toichi's "Kaitou Corbeau". His actual death was what motivated and made Kaito who Kaito is today. And to just rip that away because Gosho cannot allow good characters to remain dead... is just kinda ugh. MagicKaito-verse is kinda messed up for me now and I felt a little bit sad when I walk out of the cinema after that LOL. I still love DCMK and I will always adore all the characters in my heart (bigger shoutout to Aoko though LOL), but I just hope that whatever direction Gosho takes with the story, it's for the better: Rather than relying on the characters to make the plot interesting, he should address/better the plot that drives the characters to complete their interesting stories. Not sure if this make sense but yeah. Oh well, if you have read till this far, thank you for hearing my long rant! I do feel a bit better after this HAHAHAHA

[hairstevington]

songs that voices never share (2)

Deaf!Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson

Summary: Steve receives a letter from El and goes on a quest to fulfill her wishes. Along the way, he runs into Nancy as well as the intriguing metalhead that Steve can't stop thinking about, for better or for worse. (part 1 found here)

Warnings: Lots of angst, good babysitter Steve Harrington, use of ASL, appearances from a bunch of the kids, Steve and El are penpals and it's very cute

Word count: 3.6K

A/N: I am going to move this story over exclusively on Ao3, so please follow along there if you're interested!

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Chapter 2 - I'm getting further away

Steve wanted to go directly to Robin’s after dropping the boys off at home, but he forced himself to wait until they worked together the next day. It was after dark, and Mrs. Buckley wasn’t the biggest fan of teenage boys showing up at the house unannounced and distracting her daughter from studying.

Pssh. As if Robin didn’t distract herself most of the time. 

Steve had pulled his typical Harrington move a few times and snuck up to her window, which Mrs. Buckley didn’t love, but she accepted, as long as he didn’t step on any of the flowers in the garden when he did so - he learned that lesson the hard way. Anyway, Robin’s mom tolerated Steve’s excessive presence in Robin’s life because she was happy that Robin had a “handsome boyfriend.” While Steve was a year older and not in college, he still had a decent reputation in the town (somehow), and Mrs. Buckley approved of him, more or less.

He would have called her, but his hearing over the phone was hit or miss, and besides - he wanted to see her face when she found out. 

So, Steve went home. He went up to his bedroom (which Robin often called the torture chamber due to how poorly it was decorated and also the general vibes of Steve’s house being off), and he thought about Eddie.

Seriously. Eddie. Steve Harrington was lying in his bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about Eddie Munson. A total freak. The bane of Steve’s existence due to the fact that Eddie was actively replacing Steve in Dustin’s life. That Eddie. And all because of Tommy and Jonathan and Billy and the Russians all treating Steve like a punching bag until he started losing his hearing, and now that guy, Eddie Munson, was one of the only people Steve would be able to communicate with. 

Okay. So apparently Steve had gone from being excited to being angry about it. Funny how that works. At least Steve understood anger better than he understood…whatever the hell he’d been feeling before.

Eddie seemed to be, like, fluent. Steve wasn’t. He’d been practicing pretty much nonstop for three months, but that didn’t mean much. He could carry a conversation as long as people talked about very specific topics. And even then, Steve wasn’t sure he was signing half the words correctly. Books about ASL were great but not exactly the best way to learn a 3-D, visual language. 

The impending migraine he’d felt approaching over the course of the day was getting worse. It was probably going to rain tomorrow or something. That was a thing, right? Feeling achy and sore before a storm hits? Or was that only an excuse for when his mom didn’t want to do chores? He could have looked it up at any point, but he didn’t feel like it. Robin or Dustin would probably already know the answer, anyway. Who knows? Maybe Eddie would, too.

Ugh. Steve was sick and tired of feeling like the stupidest person in his life.

-

The next day, Steve woke up and noticed an envelope had been slipped under his door. He rolled his eyes, consistently amazed at how his parents avoided trying to talk to their own son. Whatever. He walked over to grab the letter and noticed it was from El. 

It was kind of exciting, receiving a letter like that. The last time he’d gotten letters in the mail, they were rejections from colleges, so this was a lot more fun, even though he barely knew the girl. He opened the envelope and read it.

Dear Steve,

I do not know you very good well, but I want to practise writing. Will is helping me with grammer and spelling because I am not good at it. I am working on it and I think I will be good at writing soon. 

School is okay. It is nice to have friends, but the homework is hard. Joyce and Jonathan do not help me much. There is a woman at school who helps me. She is nice but she smells bad. Will told me it is something called perfume. I asked Joyce and she told me women wear perfume for dates. Why is Mrs. Vickers wearing it at school? Will says she likes Mr. Samson and that is why. But then I asked her and she said no and that he is married. 

I wrote Mike and Max letters too and they probably will get them at the same time you do. If you see them, can you make sure they have them?

I hope you are good. How are your ears? 

~ El Jane

PS: My name is Jane. Please call me that.

Steve smiled. There was something so endearing about it. El - er, Jane - was just a girl, and yet she’d saved a lot of people’s lives a bunch of times. She’d saved Steve’s life at that mall - that is, unless he dreamt that. It was right after he’d puked his guts from the truth serum shit so his memory was a bit faded. But he was pretty sure El threw a car across the room and then Jonathan sliced her leg open to get some wiggly thing out of her.

Jesus. That whole night was fucking wild. Why did nobody ever talk about it?

Anyway, it was Saturday, and the boys (Dustin, Lucas, and Mike) were hanging out in Nancy’s basement to do god knows what. Probably something nerdy. Although, Steve didn’t mind the nerdy shit as much now that he was friends with Dustin and Robin. Since Jane specifically asked Steve to check if Mike got his letter, and it’s not like Steve had anything else to do, he got in his car and headed to the Wheeler’s.

It struck him as he approached the driveway that Nancy could very well be in her own house on a Saturday afternoon, so he might see her. 

Idiot. 

Well, he couldn’t leave now, because Nancy’s Dad was totally paranoid and probably would have called the cops about a mysterious car pulling up and then driving away. Unless he was asleep on the couch or something, which he did pretty often. It was 50/50 with Ted Wheeler. Eh, more like 75/25.

Being at Nancy’s house was weird. He didn’t go there very often other than the occasional drop-off after Hellfire. He and Nancy were fine, in the technical sense, but still. She broke his heart and left him for Jonathan. They were exes.

Of course, she was the one who opened the door.

“Oh!” she said once she saw him. “Um, Steve! Hi! What are you doing here?”

Fair question.

“I’m looking for your brother.” Steve nonchalantly signed YOUR BROTHER as he spoke without even thinking about it. Nancy looked at his hands and pressed her lips into a thin line. She’d been acting extra weird around him ever since he’d told her about the hearing thing. She didn’t learn any ASL, she just stopped talking to him - which was fine, because it’s not like they had much to talk about unless the world was ending or something.

Which meant they probably still had at least a few months of silence between them before they were due for another apocalypse.

“I think so,” Nancy replied, looking behind her. “One second.”

Nancy walked ten feet closer to the basement door and yelled for Mike, who tumbled up the stairs and ran to the door so fast Steve wondered if Mike had considered joining the track team. Steve already supported Lucas joining the basketball team, and even helped him out before tryouts. Lucas didn’t need much training, though. He was a natural at basketball. 

Mike was huffing and puffing when he noticed it was Steve asking for him, and then his face fell. 

“DUSTIN!!!” Mike yelled behind him. “YOUR STEVE IS HERE!” Steve rolled his eyes. One good thing about talking to Mike was that he frequently yelled, which translated to a more normal volume for those who’d had ruptured eardrums. 

“I’m not here for Henderson,” Steve clarified. “I’m here because your girlfriend wants to know if you got your letter.”

“You - what?!” Mike exclaimed. “How did you know that - since when do you talk to El?”

The other good thing about talking to Mike was that he was relatively good at enunciating. This was especially helpful considering Mike signed BITCH instead of TALK. But hey, at least the kid was trying.

“Her name’s Jane, now, dude,” Steve corrected him. “And uhh - I dunno. She wrote me a letter too.”

Mike clearly did not like any of this. He crossed his arms and scoffed so dramatically Steve had to hold himself back from laughing.

“MOM!” Mike yelled. “DID I GET A LETTER?” There must have been a response in the background, because Mike looked like he heard one. He turned back to Steve and nodded. “Yup got it.”

“Great,” Steve replied. Unfortunately, only half his job was done. “Did Max get hers?” Mike shrugged.

“I don’t know,” he answered. Steve sighed.

“Okay,” he said. “Do you know where she lives?” Mike responded, but Steve couldn’t for the life of him figure out what he said. It looked like - “Frosties?” Mike shook his head and said it again.

“Forest Hills,” he clarified. Steve furrowed his eyebrows. 

“The trailer park?” he asked. Mike nodded. “Oh. Okay. Thanks.”

Steve always had a headache after talking to people, because he had to concentrate super hard to get what they were saying. It was getting old. He turned to go back to his car, but was stopped when Mike grabbed him by the wrist. Steve spun around and tried not to laugh at how hard Mike attempted to look menacing.

“Don’t hurt her, understand?” Mike demanded. At least he had one sign down - UNDERSTAND. Steve nodded, regretting that he taught Mike anything. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Steve responded. Jane could still kick his ass probably, even without her powers. 

He left for Forest Hills after that, feeling somewhat sad for Max. He hadn’t really talked to her much, so he didn’t fully know her deal, but he knew she grew up with a psycho brother and was angsty enough to take down said brother. Steve was knocked out cold for it, but Dustin had told him her attack involved using Steve’s nail bat to threaten Billy’s junk. 

Needless to say, Steve was kind of terrified of Max. 

All that said, Forest Hills was known for being - uhh - not the best place to live. It was relatively close to Steve’s house, and his dad warned him all the time growing up not to go there. He told him it was filled with the worst kind of people.

Then Steve grew up, and he realized his dad was among the worst kind of people, not the folks at the trailer park. 

It was just sad there. Even though people lived in the trailers, something about it felt empty at all times. Hollow. Miserable.

Steve realized he hadn’t asked which trailer belonged to Max’s family (idiot), but thankfully she was outside feeding the dog when his car pulled into Forest Hills.

She didn’t seem at all surprised by his arrival, or maybe she just didn’t care. It was probably the second one. 

“What are you doing here?” she asked after Steve got out of the car. She looked around her, and Steve could have sworn she saw a crack in her tough exterior. He wondered how many people knew this was where she lived now. 

The sky was cloudy. It would probably rain any minute. Steve’s head was pounding. 

It was at that moment Steve realized how ridiculous this whole mission had been. This girl who he interacted with like three times in his life wrote him a letter and asked him to check in on two other kids, both who Steve also didn’t have much of a relationship with, and he just…did it? Because he had literally nothing better to do on a Saturday?

Oof. He had no idea when he got so pathetic. 

“Steve?” Max called. Steve was too lost in thought to even respond, but within moments she was standing a foot in front of him. Despite being a lot shorter than he was, she still seemed tall. She signed, WHAT’S UP? He took a deep breath. 

“God, this is -” he said. “This is so stupid. Did you get El’s letter? I mean - uh - Jane’s letter?” 

Max’s gaze softened. 

“Is she okay?” she asked, slight fear in her expression. Steve nodded. 

“Yeah,” he answered. “She just uh - she sent me one, too. Asked me to check that you and Mike got yours.” 

At the mention of Mike, Max rolled her eyes. At least she and Steve had that reaction in common. She walked to the mailbox, opened it, and shuffled through the (many) envelopes inside.

“Jesus,” Steve exclaimed. “Someone’s popular.” Max didn’t react.

“I always forget to check,” she said casually in response. Steve wondered why she would be the one who had to check the mail, but didn’t press it. Max took one of the envelopes and held it in the air. “Here. Got it,” she said. 

Max was acting differently. She was never the most bubbly person, but she seemed even more tense than usual.

“You okay?” Steve asked, signing OK. Max nodded and signed FINE. As much as Steve knew she was definitely for sure lying (seriously, Steve was the King of pretending everything was fine when it wasn’t, he saw right through this shit), he also knew he wasn’t great at the whole emotions thing. 

“Be nice to El or I’ll kill you,” Max threatened. Steve shook his head. 

“Why is everyone saying that shit?” he complained. “Seriously, I just -”

Suddenly, there was a sound that Steve assumed was thunder. Max’s eyes focused on something in the distance behind Steve, then pointed at her ear and nodded towards the noise. When Steve turned around, he saw Eddie attempting to put a garbage bag in the metal dumpster and failing miserably. 

He turned back to Max, who looked at him expectantly.

“What?” Steve asked. She looked back at Eddie, then to Steve again. “You’re the one who lives here, you help him.” Max’s face crumpled with judgment. 

“I’m a child,” she explained, as if helping Eddie with his task was a preposterous thing for her to do. Steve rolled his eyes and turned back to the dumpster, which was now closed. Eddie was wiping his hands on his pants, triumphant. Then, he locked eyes with Steve.

Shit.

Usually, Steve could pretend he wasn’t able to hear someone if they were far away, and then he didn’t look like a dick when he didn’t talk to them. Unfortunately, Steve couldn’t use that excuse with Eddie. 

HERE WHY? Eddie signed from across the park. 

Steve wasn’t sure why he was so nervous all of a sudden. It sucked that every single time he ran into Eddie, he forgot all ASL he’d practiced and instead just looked like a total fool. Steve pressed his lips together and gestured to Max beside him. Eddie raised an eyebrow. 

Steve looked at Max panicked, and she looked back at him. 

“He knows ASL?” she asked, impressed. Steve nodded. “How?”

“Uhhh, his mom is deaf,” Steve explained. “Was deaf. She’s dead now.” Steve knew like three things about Eddie, and those were two of the things. Of course, those facts sounded incredibly tactless when repeated without context. 

“Steve, what the hell?” Max replied. “You’re being weird.”

“I know,” Steve replied in a hushed voice. He went to go back to his car, then noticed that Eddie was walking right toward them. Steve’s eyes widened. 

Okay, here goes nothing. 

“This guy bothering you, Red?” Eddie asked. He was using a sign Steve didn’t recognize, but he assumed it meant BOTHER. Steve crossed his hands in a similar way at his waist, as if doing it would sear the sign into his brain. 

“No,” Max said. “He’s fine.” She signed FINE once again. She was really getting her mileage with that one. 

Steve signed a question that was meant to ask if Eddie and Max had met already. Thank God he was actually able to express a coherent thought. He was pretty sure it was grammatically correct, too!

MEET, Eddie signed back. Steve cocked his head, so Eddie continued. “You signed DATE,” he explained. He closed his fists more and then repeated the motion. “This is how you sign MEET.” 

Okay, so Steve officially had to disappear forever. 

THANK YOU, he signed instead, resisting the urge to hop in the car. TWO-OF-YOU MEET HOW? This time, Eddie nodded in approval at Steve’s signing, which felt good. He was still humiliated, but at least he’d slightly redeemed himself.

Eddie signed a whole bunch of words Steve couldn’t really follow, but thankfully Eddie spoke anyway. 

“We’re neighbors,” he explained. “Also, her boyfriend is in my club.” Eddie was signing while he was speaking like it was nothing. Steve watched in awe. 

“Okay,” Max interrupted, unamused. “I’m gonna go inside before it starts pouring, but it was nice to talk to you both, I guess.”

With that, she was gone. That left Steve and Eddie alone. It was times like these when he really wished he could telepathically summon Robin.

“So,” Eddie said. Then, he signed something else Steve couldn’t understand. YOU, something, then ME? 

The missing word was extremely important. Thankfully, Eddie seemed to recognize that Steve didn’t understand. Eddie fingerspelled, S-T-A-L-K, then signed STALK again. 

YOU STALK ME?

Once Eddie’s initial question clicked, Steve shook his head aggressively.

“No, no,” he insisted. “I came here for Max, because her and I have a bunch of friends in common, and -”

“Steve,” Eddie said, cutting him off. JOKING.

Steve exhaled in relief. “Oh. Right,” he said. From then on, Eddie spoke as he signed. 

“How long have you been signing?” he asked. 

“Three months,” Steve answered. “Started losing my hearing in July.”

“Shit,” Eddie replied. “So it’s very new.” Steve nodded, noticing that instead of signing VERY NEW, Eddie signed NEW with a more dramatic motion and expression. Interesting.

“Yeah.”

Eddie looked up at the sky, which had gotten a lot darker over the last few minutes. 

“Well,” he said. “We should take refuge before the storm hits. But for the record, you’re pretty good at ASL considering it’s only been three months.” 

Steve smiled. REALLY?

Eddie nodded. REALLY. 

Steve didn’t think Eddie had any idea how much this brief conversation impacted him. Eddie just walked away after that to go inside, but Steve lingered outside the car for a few extra moments. 

Then he realized how fucking weird he looked and drove home as fast as he safely could.

-

Steve had a few hours before work, which was good because his headache was still going strong. He figured he’d pop a Tylenol and take a nap or something. 

When he got back to his room, he saw his letter on the desk and decided he’d write back before he slept.

Dear Jane,

Hi! I honestly didn’t expect you to actually write me. That’s pretty cool. I double checked for you and Max and Mike got their letters. And then they both gave me the shovel talk - wait, do you know what a shovel talk is? They basically told me that if you and I are gonna be penpals, I have to be nice to you. That’s kinda bullshit, right? I’m, like, really nice, now. Except to Dustin, but only when he deserves it.

That was a joke. I’m joking. 

Steve crumpled up the paper and threw it across the room. What was he thinking, going on about shovel talks and how he sometimes bullies a literal child? 

He took a deep breath and tried again.

Hey,

I’m really glad you wrote to me. Things have been kinda hard, honestly. My ears are the same. Actually, they’ve gotten worse. Today they’re hurting me a lot. I’m starting to think I’m gonna go completely deaf and I don’t really know how I feel about it. I just feel like a total dumbass all the time.

Jesus Christ, was he seriously trauma dumping on a girl who’s formative experiences included being imprisoned and experimented on in a lab??? And now, she had even more shit to conquer. She didn’t need to hear about his problems. 

He thought about giving up, but decided to try one more time.

Jane -

It’s nice to hear from you. I always had a hard time in school, too. Nancy used to help me out with my papers because I’m a shit writer. So this is good practice for both of us 🙂

I just found out this guy named Eddie also knows sign language, so I want to try to get to know him better. He’s in Hellfire club with Dustin, Mike, and Lucas, so I’ll see him sometimes probably. It makes me feel less alone, I guess. I’ve been feeling alone a lot these days. Maybe that’s not a manly thing to say or whatever, but I’ve given up on trying to be cool. Cool is overrated, it’s lame-time for Steve. 

Shit. Robin told me to stop talking in third person like that. She’d probably be fine with it this time though since I was calling myself lame while doing it. 

Max and Mike both have their letters, so all is good on that end. All your friends here are doing well. I’ll keep an eye on them for you if you promise to look out for Will. Okay?

Until next time,

Steve

PS: Mrs. Vickers is totally trying to get with Mr. Samson. Keep me updated with this because now I’m invested.

Well. That was as good as it was gonna get. He sealed the envelope and climbed into bed.

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unexpected 35

Sequel to Unsolicited

Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, pegging, Lloyd being the worst, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

“We have to go to the hospital,” Lloyd slides the toy out of him and winces. He eases you onto your side as you can do nothing but bounce like a boulder against the mattress. “Shit, fuck, shit.”

He stands and rubs his ass. He steps around and bends over you, “ma’s gonna be so pissed.”

“Jesus, Lloyd!” You snarl, “take this thing off me, first. And put some goddamn clothes on.”

“Oh, uh,” he stands and looks down at himself, his cums sticky and shiny across his stomach as he slowly softens, “right.”

“Ugh, Christ,” you utter as you reach for the straps and unbuckle one. The task is hardly easy as even trying to lift your head sends a spasm up your spine.

You’re trusting your life to a man who doesn’t have enough brain cells to get dressed before he storms out into public. A maniac so sex crazed he follows his dick like the needle of a compass. Worse, you’re bringing a second life into this surreal layer of hell.

He pulls back the other buckle and twists the straps down your thigh. He reaches under you and jolts you as he tugs the other. His urgency overrides any caution he could possess. You yelp as you fall onto your back and he untangles the harness from your legs.

“Damn, shit,” he says as the dildo hits the floor, “did I make it worse?”

“You’re not making it better,” you growl.

“Fuuuuck,” he stomps away and you hear the closet roll open. 

You lay staring at the ceiling helplessly. You put your hand on your stomach and grit your teeth. You try to sit up, only to collapse again and whine. Fuck, fuck, fuck… your internal chant echoes Lloyd’s very vocal one.

He comes back to you as he pulls on a satin shirt with a snakeskin print. What the fuck is he wearing? What do you care? You’re still naked and paralysed with pain.

“What about me?” You ask as he buttons the shirt.

“Right, ugh… we’ll just sit you up,” he bends over you once more, hooking his arms under yours. You wrap yours around his neck and grunt through the agony as he makes you sit. 

“God, that fucking hurt,” you hiss.

“I can’t–” he releases you and raises his hand to smooth his hair, “a robe!”

He spins and races across the room. He grabs the dark silk robe he likes to wear like some idiot incel. The lotus flower and bamboo print makes you roll your eyes. 

“One more time,” he comes to you and leans in once more, “arms around my neck, sweetheart.”

“Sweetheart?! Don’t be fucking sweet now, dumbass.”

“Hey, I’m doing my best with what I got?”

“Uh huh,” you growl as he sweeps the robe behind you and gets it up your arms. 

He places them around his neck again and stands with you. You scream and he flinches, letting out a pained groan as he tilts his head away.

“Dammit, my fucking ear–”

“I’ll bite it the fuck off,” you sneer.

He huffs and pulls the robe closed, as much as he can around your middle. What is he thinking? He ties the belt under your bump, the gap at the front more than certainly revealing too much.

“Alright, peaches, I got you,” he angles and gets an arm around you, bending to hook another behind your legs. He lifts you up with a strained grunt and you yowl again. Your eyes prick as you throw your head back.

“Wait!? Peaches?” He exclaims and you scowl at him through slitted eyes. “Are you going into labour?”

“No, you dunce, it’s my goddamn back!”

💎

“Slipped disk,” the same doctor as before displays the white on black image before you. Dr. Izhan, you recall. “Doesn’t exactly make things easier for a pregnant woman. Especially as far along as you.”

“Sure doesn’t feel good,” you utter as you grip the bed rails. 

The pain has dulled to a heavy pressure, no longer the sharp stabbing in your spine. They got you on meds but nothing strong enough to brighten your mood. The biggest pain however is the one standing bedside, chewing his thumb as he furrows his brow dramatically.

“I can imagine,” Dr. Izhan says, “I think we should start discussion options. For labour.”

“It’s a bit early,” you sniff, “isn’t it?”

“It is. But… given your age and your dangerously high pain tolerance, I think a c-section would be best. You can schedule one before you’re discharged.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea. I read that–” Lloyd begins as he rests his hand on yours.

“Shh,” you hush him. All his reading and he still knows nothing.

“How long is she here for, doc?” He changes his course of action.

“We’ll say overnight for now. If the pain improves, becomes manageable, you can take her home. But,” the doctor points his pen at Lloyd, “don’t let her out of bed.”

“That won’t be a problem,” Lloyd smirks.

“Lloyd,” you slide your hand from beneath his and swat his knuckles.

“She’s right. Take it easy. She doesn’t need to be doing much of anything. At least not for a week or so.”

“I promise, doc, I’ll tie her down if I have too.”

You roll your eyes. He really is obnoxious. You drag your hand to your stomach and sigh.

“I will stay in bed. Don’t think I have much of a choice.”

“You don’t. You keep pushing yourself and it won’t get any easier. Even after the baby is here. This isn’t a new problem, you’ve neglected yourself long enough that if you keep doing that, it won’t be fixable.”

You hang your head and nod, “I know, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Take care of yourself,” the doctor girds.

“I will,” you look away and cup your cheek, “thanks.”

“Alright, I’ll make sure the nurse gives you another dose when you need it. For now, take it easy. Relax.”

He leaves as Lloyd hovers close to you. You sense his gaze on you. You flick your lashes up and take a deep breath. It’s the pain making you well up. It has to be.

“So,” Lloyd begins, “I always knew you were a delicate flower under all those thorns, peaches, but how long have you been like this?”

“What?” You snap and turn your head, wincing into a snarl.

“Well, I distinctly remember you keeling over in my tub not too long ago. And all those episodes since. I figured it was a new thing. A forty year old thing, but…”

“You’re older than me.”

“Oh, am I?”

“You are, aren’t you?” You wonder.

“Who the fuck knows, peaches. Come on. Doctor’s right. He’s a smart man. How long have you been running away from your troubles? And for once I’m not talking about me.”

You trail your hand down and scratch your chin. You look at the ceiling and slant your mouth. You try to remember when it started. It’s hard to think of a time when the pain was an issue.

“Maybe… I think… I was twenty-nine? I don’t know–”

“Shit, peaches, twelve years?”

“Something like that.”

“No, twelve years. I’m a math whiz–” He stops himself as your eyes drift over darkly, “I’d have to be, right,” he runs his fingers over his mustache, “because you don’t look old. Not that you are old, you know? You look nice and young.” He clears his throat as your frown deepens, “not that I want some young thing. You know, because you’re finely aged. Like wine.”

“I could use some wine,” you grumble, “thanks again, for that. You just have to take everything, don’t you? My dignity, my husband, my wine…”

“Hey, I give you lots of nice things. And I’m talking about more than good dick.”

“Please,” you flutter your fingers dismissively, “the doctor said I’m supposed to relax and you’re here making me lock up all over.”

“Well, I’m not going. Not this time. Ma said–”

“Oh, so you just don’t wanna piss off Dottie? I see.”

“No, that’s not what I–” he sputters, “look, peaches, I’ll let you relax, how about that? I’ll go grab some dinner and we can eat it and watch that reality show with the cat-faced girl.”

“Ugh, fine, I am hungry,” you resign, tempted more by the promise of a brief respite.

“I do know how to please a lady,” he kids, “right, so deep-fried pickles?”

“No,” you drone glumly, “they give me heartburn. But I can have the cauliflowers bites. Make sure you get the ones with mozzarella.”

“Califlower bites…” he repeats dutifully, “got it.”