#obviously they’re all hot as shit but ya know

[wynnyfryd]

it’s what the people deserve

@steddieas-shegoes said i owed her and @wormdebut some smut as payment for subjecting them to @steddiemicrofic angst, so here ya go, ya nasties (affectionate). an absolutely feral little rewrite i did forever ago where eddie replaces nancy in the s1 post-swimming sex scene. rated e, obviously, minors go away

-

“Ow!” Steve winces, wrenching back from the kiss. His fingers reach up to touch the wound. “Munson, what the fuck?”

Eddie did that. Bit his lip until he bled.

He grins and swings a leg over Steve’s lap, shoving him down onto the bed. Steve looks up at him through long lashes, tries to look haughty despite the blush blooming across his cheeks. Eddie leans in and licks a hot stripe up the side of his neck.

Steve makes a disgusted noise in the back of his throat, but his hips jerk all the same.

“Thought you were gonna just lure me up here and pull all your King Steve moves on me, huh?” Eddie teases, sucking a bruise into the spot behind Steve’s ear. “You want to bet I can guess all your little tricks? Bet I know exactly how it goes when you get all those cute, breakable girls in your bed. Let’s see…”

He shifts in Steve’s lap, wiggling further down. Peppering gentle kisses to the underside of Steve’s jaw.

“You probably start off real soft and sweet with them, don’t you? Get ‘em all nice and relaxed ‘til they’re moaning pretty in your ear.”

He reaches down, grabs both of Steve’s hands and brings them up to either side of Steve’s head, pressing them into the mattress and interlocking their fingers. Steve’s chest heaves under him, eyes wide and dreamy beneath those long lashes, his lips full and flush. Just waiting for Eddie’s tongue to slide back in.

Eddie holds back. Hovers with his mouth just over Steve’s. “Bet you say stupidly sincere shit to them, too, don’t you? Bet you say the dumbest stuff. ‘God, you’re so beautiful,’” he mocks on a breathy moan.

Steve’s eyes flutter shut.

“Go on,” Eddie goads as he grinds his hips down, lines their hard-ons up between them; pressing through the thin fabric of his borrowed sweatpants, oh, fuck. “Tell me what the girls say to that.”

Steve bucks up into him with a long, low groan, his head tipped back. Eddie bites at his adams apple.

“They don’t— unh— they don’t say anything,” Steve whines, wrapping a leg around Eddie’s hip to pull him closer, rolling up into him in a slow, filthy circle. Eddie squeezes Steve’s hands, feels his cock twitch in his pants. Christ, he’s leaking so fucking much.

“They’d be- be too into it to think,” Steve says, and he’s moving faster now, rubbing Eddie’s cock into the growing wet spot between them. “They’d just say please.”

It’s the ‘please’ that does it. Steve says it on a broken moan — a whimper, high-pitched and filled with such need that Eddie cums in his pants. Right then and there; his whole body stiffens as his hips jolt under Steve’s bent leg, and he buries his face into Steve’s neck with an embarrassed sound.

“Oh, my— oh, my fucking god,” Steve laughs. Like, really laughs, his shoulders shaking under Eddie’s weight, and when Eddie looks up his smile is all teeth and tongue, his eyes squeezed shut. “Oh, my god, you actually just came in your pants.”

“Shut up! Shut the fuck up,” Eddie hisses, scrambling to clap a hand over Steve’s mouth. Steve just bites it, digs his teeth into the meat of Eddie’s palm until he yelps and pulls away; payback for earlier, and Steve doesn’t look sorry at all as he lifts his head to lick the wound.

“You’re a feral little fucker,” Eddie huffs, hiding in the bend of Steve’s neck again.

“Oh?” Steve asks. He slides his hand down between them, squeezes Eddie’s wet dick in his wet pants. Like rubbing a dog’s nose in a piss stain on the new carpet. “And you’re not?”

“Fuck off, holy shit.”

“Mm,” Steve murmurs, “I’d rather fuck you.”

He sits up then, flipping their positions so Eddie’s laid out beneath him, his spent dick twitching in the cooling mess in his pants. “Guess I’ll have to, anyway. You know. Since you’re already out of commission.”

#feral demon 4 feral demon hours #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #steddie smut #steddie fic #steddie drabble #steddie au

[killakalx]

Size kink constantly on the brain omgg I'm super short so either Dick or Jason would tower over me and like I can just imagine them leaning down to whisper in readers ear 😭 rrly wishing I could send pics to better illustrate BUT U GET THE IDEA

-⭐️

i only talk about a size kink with jason bc dick’s 5’10 (i think) and i’m pushing 5’8, so i’m more so into dick casually displaying that he’s stronger than you on random occasions. does it still count as a size kink if it’s you wanting to gnaw on his arms like a jawbreaker? you play around with him so often and he reminds you that he can fold you in half if he really wanted to by holding your wrists real tight and trapping you in his arms. bicep digging into your neck n shit… i’d ride his arm if i could i swear

jason though. jason… jason 🫠🫠🫠🫠 i think he just loves sneaking up on you. it’s hot with him because it’s so painfully obvious he’s bigger than you, and you aren’t scared of your boyfriend but knowing someone as big as him can still hide his presence up until he wants to be discovered is so. god i think about it way too often. you could be cooking and he’s hovering over your shoulder, all you feel is this overwhelming presence behind you and the sudden hand on your waist confirms it was simply your ox of a bf.

i think they’re both very fond of coming up on you at parties (or anywhere in public) and whispering absolutely disgusting things in your ear out of no where. dick’s sneaking up on you and asking “you wanna use the mirror tonight? you should let me get that dress off for ya.” he leaves his comments suggestive, but the charmed and hushed tone he uses makes you weak in the knees every time. you tell him it’s embarrassing when he’s very obviously getting you all hot on purpose, but he swears it was just a silly question.

jason’s more forthright and touchy with it, probably pulling your ass up against his pelvis while telling you he’s got plans to fuck you until you go dumb on his cock. “you’re in for it, you know that right? gonna use that pretty cunt til you can’t fuckin’ think.” all while hunching over to your ear, hands on your waist and pinching while pulling you closer. he’s got a very nasty lack of filter and he loves acting like he doesn’t have the slightest idea of why you’re so wet when you coyly tug him into the bathroom.

#⭐️ anon !! #kali ;; inbox #kali ;; dg #kali ;; jt

[coleszzzworld]

Yandere jock (Kai Martinez) x reader she/her pronouns for reader.

Jock’s Pinterest board.

TRIGGER WARNING ⚠️- cussing suggestive content, slight alcohol consumption, yandere behavior , reckless driving,speeding , reader lowkey being afraid. POSITIVELY DO NOT READ IF EASILY TRIGGERED.-enjoy the fall.-🐇♦️🖤

“Gonna hold ya, Gonna kiss ya in my arms , Gonna take ya, Away from harm…”

══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿════✿══╡°˖✧✿

“Come on y/n , we’re going to be late!!” Y/f/n says as she walks into the bathroom where you are currently getting ready , as you put down your makeup brush you pick up your phone , looking at the time and the multiple texts and calls from Kai , you decide to ignore them , “y/f/n , it’s 9:20 , the party don’t start till 9:50” you say as you continue to do your make up.

“Yeah so? , we need to pre game!!! , we’re going to our first ever frat party! , theirs going to be so many hot guys there!!” She says as she hops onto the bathroom counter , “I don’t plan on getting shit faced drunk y/f/n , I plan on actually being aware of my surroundings” you chuckle , as your phone vibrates, y/f/n looks down at your phone , and then looks up at you , “still ignoring him huh?” She says as she takes a drink from a red solo cup , you sigh out , “no…well..it’s not ignoring… more like taking a break from our friendship!” You say , “yeah your ignoring him!!” Your friend laughs out , “you do know he’ll be here at the party tonight… right?” She says as she looks at you with a confused look.

“Well now that I know that , suddenly I don’t feel like going” you say as you fix you hair up a bit , “no ma’am!!! , your definitely going even if Kai wasn’t there, you would still be going!” She says as she jumps off the counter , and looks into the mirror fixing her makeup a bit, as you chew on the inside of your cheek , wondering if you should go or not , you finally decide to go , “ugh fine , I’ll go …only because your forcing me too!” You say as you walk out of the bathroom.

══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿════✿══╡°˖✧✿

As you and y/f/n enters the big frat house, you immediately smell alcohol and … what is that smell? Smells fruity your mind then connects the Dots as you look up you notice the vape clouds reaching up to the Celling ,you shake your head immediately wanting to leave , before you could turn to your friend, a voice speaks “hey y/f/n!!” A guy calls out , you recognize him , he’s on the football team with Kai , and not only that , him and y/f/n , has been ‘talking’ with each other , “hey y/n , do you mind if I go with him real quick? , I promise I’ll be back before you know it!!” She says as she smiles shyly at you , you can’t deny her from seeing her boy Toy , “that’s fine , just meet up with me in the kitchen , when your done” you wink at her for that last part obviously you know that they’re going to fuck , she waves you bye as she walks away , “now where is the alcohol..?” You say as you walk into the kitchen.

Your already on your second cup of alcohol , your not drunk or buzzed which is good , as you sit on the counter waiting for y/f/n to come back , you scroll through Instagram , you then breathe out before looking up , before deciding to move to the living room to sit on the couch for better back support.

You check the time , 10:47 , y/f/n has been gone for about 30 minutes, your still on you second cup , then you get a message from y/f/n , “just got done lol , fixing up my makeup and cleaning myself up real quick , I’ll give you all the juicy details!! , be down in 10” you laugh , not noticing someone sitting beside you.

“Y/n…” a voice calls out to you , no not just any voice, you recognize it. You turn your head to reveal a taller male with gray eyes and black curly hair , dressed in a black tank top with cargo pants , and black converse. It’s Kai . You breathe out already feeling the awkward feeling between you both , “u-uh hey Martinez” you say as you try to make it not Awkward, “that’s all you can say?…you’ve been ignoring me! , d-did I do something wrong? Please forgive me if I-I did!” He says as he grabs your hand gently rubbing his thumb over your back hand, you sigh out , “look Kai.. you didn’t do anything wrong, I promise, I-I just kinda of needed a break from…everything” you say as you look at him then you look to the crowd, before he could speak your phone vibrates , “hold on , it’s y/f/n..” you say as you pull your hand away , you didn’t notice then but he looked away ,and pure spite , and anger was written all over his face.

“Hey y/n , sooooo change of plans, if it’s cool with you , jacob wants to go back to his dorm with me , but i can Uber back with you “ she says as she giggles at the male in the room with her , you sigh out , you don’t want to ruin her night , cause she barely gets to see her boy toy, but at the same time you don’t want to Uber Alone , “eh…I don’t know…I really don’t want to Uber alone” you say catching the attention of the taller male, “y/n , I can take you back to your place!” He says as he perks up , “I don’t know Kai …” , “it’s fine y/n! , it’s really no problem!” Well you have been ignoring him , but you do trust him, you know he wouldn’t try anything, “fine. Look y/f/n , Martinez is going to take me back to my place, be safe okay?” , “thank you y/n! , you be safe too!” She says as she hangs up. ══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿════✿══╡°˖✧✿

As you lean back into the passenger seat , looking out the window , enjoying the slightly quiet night , you bop your head a bit to the song playing , “so y/n…I have a question” Kai speaks up as he turns the radio down a bit , you breathe out already feeling the tension, might as well get this over with , “go ahead and shoot Kai.” , “I know your lying to me.” He grips the steering wheel a bit tight , “ you didn’t take a break from ‘everything’… you took a break from me.” He says as he speeds up a bit , your annoyed at this point , so you decide to let everything loose , “yeah and what about it Kai?… I needed a break from you , so what.” You shrug as you look away from the window , then at him, “oh angel… why can’t you see that I love you.” He says as the speed picks up steadily, you get a bit nervous, “Kai slow down, before you kill us.” You say getting more and more annoyed , “s…say you love me y/n.” He says as the speed increases , he has to be going at least 70 on this backroad , “k-Kai stop!” You say getting scared, “why?!!..why don’t you love me?!, i love everything about you….why are you trying to leave me?… i worship the ground you walk on y/n!! , i would kill for you…I would die for you!. One thing I will never let happen is never let you leave … we’ll both be fucking dead before that happens.” He chuckles at that last part then he looks at you. His eyes off the road, as his speeding increases, he hit 100. “K-kai look at the fucking road and slow down you psychopath!!!” You say trying to get his attention back to the road.

“Say you love me… say you fucking love me or I swear to god… I’ll kill us both right now y/n.” He says as he continues to look at you his speed still increasing , If he was in the city he would’ve of definitely hit something. You shake with fear, your stomach having butterflies from the speed. Your on the brink of tears , he then stomps on his foot on the gas , making the car go faster the speed immediately jumping to 130 in seconds “FUCKING SAY YOU LOVE ME Y/N!!!” He yells at you , “I-I love you , so much, I-I’m sorry ignored you!, p-please Kai just slow down..” you say as you look at him , and almost immediately he slows down his speed once at 130 dropping down to 80 in seconds. He looks back at the road. As he continues to drop the speed back down to the speeding limit, “i love you so much y/n..words can’t explain how I feel about you. I’ll forever will love you.” You don’t even respond you just let out panicked breathes , you then turn your body towards the window letting out your tears quietly. ══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿════✿══╡°˖✧✿

A/n-who knew our sweet boy could be so damn scary 😭 I kinda like when he’s acting crazy but that’s just me personally 🤭-🐇♦️🖤

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere jock #yandere x you #yandere x darling #yandere x y/n #yandere series

[amazingmsme]

here’s some spankoffski bros + charlotte for ya, i feel like the first time peter met charlotte (or any time ted brings charlotte over with him there, but he saves their more adult activities for when he knows pete’s gonna be out of the house) he made it his mission to try and embarrass ted as much as possible, like telling her how he sometimes won’t shut up about her or an embarrassing story from their childhood, as a big of payback for the amount of times ted’s done the same to him in front of his friends or stephanie. and yes that definitely includes telling her his tickle spots - fluffvoid

I AM NORMAL ABOUT THIS I PROMMY I am lying

Ted goes to the bathroom & Peter immediately appears to cause chaos. Just standing in the doorway like “I know he tries to act all cool & like he doesn’t care that much but he literally never shuts the fuck up about you” & she’s like “oh? What does he say?” & she is so obviously smitten so he goes on a spiel about how Ted says how “hot” she is, how he loves her “dorky ass sweaters,” how she doesn’t know how funny she is, how she’s the nicest person in the office, & how her smile makes his day & now Ted’s standing in the doorway blushing as red as a cherry. He finally finds his composure & chases Peter out of the room before plopping on the couch to pout. But then Charlotte tells him how sweet he is & how he doesn’t need to keep all his compliments to himself. That triggers teasy Ted & he’s smothering her with kisses as he’s telling her all the things he loves about her

Ted’s in the middle of making them a romantic dinner for 2 (eat in your room Pete, I don’t give a shit, just leave us alone!) & while Charlotte’s waiting for it to be done, Peter busts out the family photo album like any good sibling would. Ted comes out to tell them it’s ready & he sees them sitting on the couch with all the embarrassing pics scattered about. Dinner is delayed because Ted simply cannot let him get away with that & has to wreck his shit

Peter strikes basically any time Ted steps out of the room because he knows that’s the only time he can actually get away with it

While they were watching a movie, Peter snuck up behind the couch & launched a surprise tickle attack like Ted’s done to him so many times. “Not so funny when the shoe’s on the other foot, is it?!” & Ted’s laughing too hard to say anything more than stuttering protests & pleas. The whole time he’s tickling him he’s lecturing Charlotte about his brother’s worsts spots & what techniques work best. Ted keeps trying to make him be quiet but Peter just shushes him & tickles even more. He & Charlotte talk about him like he’s not even there & it’s the most embarrassing thing Ted thinks he’s ever experienced. & once Peter’s had his fun & Ted is catching his breath, he grabs his arms & holds them over his head & turns to Charlotte like “ok your turn” & she proceeds to destroy him

I fucking love them so much you have no idea they’re a strong contender for my fave Hatchetfield ship

#asks #anon ask #tgwdlm headcanons #npmd headcanons #hatchetfield headcanon #ted spankoffski #charlotte sweetly #peter spankoffski #the guy who didn't like musicals #tgwdlm #nerdy prudes must die #npmd #hatchetfield #hatchetverse #sweetkoffski

[wannab-urs]

Build Me Up Buttercup | Ch. 2

Just to let me down?

Summary: You get a verdict on your essay and have a little run in at the bar

Word Count: 800ish - sorry it’s so short. I couldn’t resist the cliffhanger and had to cut it off.

Warnings: Still none... but we're getting closer!

P.S. I plan on updating this daily but also if I can't get a chapter finished, I can't get it finished, ya know?

You’re sitting in the library, presumably working on an essay for Modern British Lit, but really you’re thinking about Dr. Miller. Yesterday, you had been closer to him than you ever have before. You sit at the back of his class and never raise your hand to answer questions, afraid he’d dismiss your answer outright. 

He’s hot from a distance sure, but up close? Holy shit. The way his curls fell over his eyes as he worked. The way his tongue poked out between his lips. It’s almost cute. And then the way his biceps bulged beneath his weathered band tee… He’s seriously gorgeous. He has to be, what? In his mid 50s? You were used to men that old looking like your granddad… he was far from looking like a grandpa yesterday. 

The sound of an email notification interrupts your train of thought.

See me in my office 

-Miller 

How formal. God damn, he’s an asshole. He’s an asshole. He’s not fucking cute.

You assume it’s about your essay, so you decide to stop by his office after your Chaucer class. That class is a trip. The professor wears these weird ass outfits all the time with vibrantly colored pants and you’re honestly kind of living for it. But he also keeps giving you Bs on all your essays without any feedback as to why they’re not As. You’d take your solid B in that class over your 57 in Miller’s class any day though.

You resolve to go to his office hours again later today and go back to trying to write your essay.

He’s preoccupied again, taking notes on a book you can’t see the name of, when you get to his office. Today he’s opted for a black Led Zeppelin shirt that’s obviously vintage, small holes revealing tiny peeks of his broad chest. His hair is even more unruly today and the disheveled former punk vibes are a really good look on him. Bastard. 

Before you even open your mouth to speak, he does that hand thing, like he’s shooing you away. You decide to just sit down and wait for him to finish what he’s doing. 

After what feels like half an hour but is probably a minute, he sets his pen down in the book and closes the cover. The book is called “Neoliberalism on the Ground” Seems… actually interesting. Your eyes flick up to his face and he’s looking at you expectantly, as if you asked to see him. 

“Well?” You arch an eyebrow at him.

“I reread your essay.” You stare at him waiting for him to elaborate. He doesn’t.

 “And?” 

“And it was good.” 

It was good? That’s all?  “And?” 

“And I’ll change your grade to a B.” 

A fucking B? Fine. Whatever. Best you’re gonna get. “Why the change of heart?” 

“Didn’t read it the first time.” 

“Are you serious?” No like, is he actually fucking kidding right now?

“Saw the neo-gothic cathedral on the cover, gave you a D, moved on.” 

“What!? I spent hours on that! Days! And you had the audacity to not even fu--- to not even read it? Are you kidding me?” 

“Listen, sweetheart, if you had to read 98 amateur architecture essays, you’d skim too.” 

“Don’t call me that.” 

“Do you want me to change the grade back?” 

“Do you want me to report you?”

“Fair enough.” 

God, you want to strangle him. “Is that all, then, Miller?” 

“Don’t call me that.” Jesus fucking christ. 

You roll your eyes and stomp out of his office.

You’re sitting at a hightop in the bar just off campus with Cooper and your other friend Em, filling them in on the essay drama. 

“So, yeah, he called me ‘sweetheart’ and I left,” you finish. 

“Wait, is Dr. Miller the hot one?”

“Yes, Em, pay attention,” Coop says, rolling their eyes. 

“Yes. He’s attractive. That is SO not the point, though?!” Your friends are ridiculous. 

“So… how did you get him to up the grade? Did you give him head under his desk or something?” Em teases, a conspiratorial glint in her eye.

“Gross! No!” 

“I would have… I’ve seen him on campus. I’d suck the meat off them bones.” 

“You are absolutely disgusting, Emily. No I did not give my professor a fucking blowjob to get a better grade!” 

“I’m just saying! You could do worse…” 

“I just asked him to show me a modicum of respect. Jesus fucking Christ.” 

“Oh my god is that him?” Cooper is staring hard at the back of some dude’s head at the bar. He has curly brown hair streaked with gray and broad shoulders covered in a green flannel. Shit that could be him.

“There’s no way Dr. Miller is here right now. I will literally kill myself.” 

At the sound of his name, Dr. Miller turns and looks over his shoulder, immediately locking eyes with you. 

“Oh shit, that is him,” you say, ducking your head and hoping he won’t see you. Play it cool. There’s no way he actually heard you. 

“Is he still looking?” You ask, peeking up at your friends.

“Um-” Cooper starts.

“Hi there, sweetheart.”

Tag List: @beskarandblasters, @cutesyscreenname, @atinylittlepain, @wednesdayday, @whoiscaroline, @goldenhxurs, @northernwindd, @djarinxore, @worhols, @amanitacowboy, @silkiers, @4ueijos, @livinxdeadxgrl, @chknikkbxss, @thepriceofpepper, @lexic-22, @sunshinebtrfly, @ccelinea, @harriedandharassed

#joel miller #joel miller fics #joel miller fan fiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #Joel Miller AU #Professor!Joel #Professor!Joel Miller

[h-harleybaby]

I loveloveLOVE ur work ... can we get some hcz for Eric Cartman in a relationship with a masochiztic reader ? ,:3c

All y’all on the same wavelength fr

Anyways, no worries hun I’m perfectly fine with it! And I get it, sometimes you gotta use a translator <333

HAS NSFW CONTENT

Sadist!Eric Cartman x Masochist!reader

• Obviously Cartman would thrive on the fact you’re a masochist, his sadistic side is so drawn to that. He finds it so hot how much of a reaction he can get out of you

• Def has recordings of you begging for him to be rough or to slap you and gets off on it when you can’t be there physically. Not to mention videos and audios of him spanking you

• If he’s not there I wouldn’t be surprised if he FaceTimed you and made you spank yourself + touch yourself. If your ass ain’t red, you clearly didn’t do it right

• He’d probably mock you the whole time saying how your hands probably don’t feel as good as his, whatever toy he’s making you use doesn’t feel as good as this tongue, etc

• Would not be surprised if he mocked you while you were riding some sort of dildo or toy until you’re crying and he’s licking your tears as some kinda foreplay

• Fr makes you completely dependent on him for your pleasure. No one makes you feel as good as he does ig, he knows your body more than you do

• He’s def someone who uses his size to his benefit, pinning you down so you can’t pull away or push away from anything he’s doing because he KNOWS you love it

• Ofc sometimes he has to switch it up tho, he’s by no means boring. And tying you up is one of his favourites to do, I feel like he would use coconut rope or something that like, at least slightly digs into your skin

• He would sooooo love when you scratch up his back, the little masochist in him is pleased. Ngl he would probably walk around shirtless so people could ask him about it and so he could tell them about how good you felt last night

• OVERSTIM!!! He loves to overstim you to the point where you’re begging him to stop or until literally all you can do is babble about how it feels too good and cry

• HE LICKS THOSE DAMN TEARS WITH PRIDE!! And boy, do they taste good to him your tears fr his favorite drink 💀

• He prefers getting oral rather than giving, but if he’s giving he’s a big fan of you sitting on his face and not letting you off. Like no, he wants you sobbing just because of his tongue and if you’re not then he’s not done

• He knows you soooo well and knows exactly how to make you cum super easily, but loves to edge you. Especially to the point where you’re trying to grind yourself on his face and he has to hold your hips to stop you

• If you don’t get the hint then he’s gonna slap your clit until you do and omg it hurts but it feels so good like I CAN’T

• Def fucks your face to the point where he actually can’t tell if you’re breathing properly or not

• I could totally see him having his hand on your throat and squeezing a little as he face fucks you because he likes how it feels

• He would soooo love taking pictures of you choking on his cum while he’s got his dick down your throat. Expect that to be his lock screen!!

• Arm lock is a must‼️‼️‼️ like he has you propped up, ass up, and chest flat on the bed with your arms behind your back LIKE YES PLEASE

• I shit you not, he has those chubby hands so they’re literally huge and he can hold your wrists together with one hand 🤭🤭

• Them hands inside you tho got me going WILD!! He knows what the hell he’s doing and he’s super skilled with his hands. Honestly, he probably fingers you pretty roughly but like not enough to exactly hurt HURT you ya know??? Does that make sense?

#h harleybaby needs help #harley won’t shut her mouth #harley’s anons <33 #mom come get harley she’s rambling #harley’s favs #south park x reader #south park x reader headcanons #south park x y/n #eric cartman x reader #cartman x reader #eric cartman x you #eric cartman smut #eric cartman x y/n #eric cartman headcanons #Eric Cartman birthday special

[sugartitstownley]

Hay I love your blog!!!

Could you do some relationship preferences for michael and trevor being together cute/hot or just cute?

ABC’s of Trikey

Thanks for the ask! I’m glad you like my blog!! I took some creative liberties with this and ran with it since I’ve been wanting to do the ABC prompt. So I hope you don’t mind. :) I did the fluff version [source], but I’d be open to doing the NSFW version too if someone would want that.

Warnings: Not a lot this time. Typical GTA-esque themes. There is a brief mention in the last letter (Z) about child abuse, but that’s about it. Mostly fluffy stuff.

A is for animals  [Do they have pets? What type?]

No, they don’t have any pets. Neither of them feel too strongly about having them, but the topic has came up once or twice — Michael being the most reluctant.

“It’d be like having another kid,” Michael gripes. “We’d have to clean its shit and make sure it doesn’t tear the house up.”

“But maybe it could teach you a thing or two about loyalty, you snake,” Trevor shoots back. “Plus, it’d give Chop a friend.”

“Can you honesty promise I wouldn’t come home one day to a mutilated dog after it chewed the fuck out of your clothes or bit you?”

“Well, I can’t promise I won’t mutilate you one day, but I still keep you around.”

That didn’t convince Michael. So no, they don’t have pets. They’ll stick to chaperoned visits with Franklin, Lamar, and Chop.

B is for bathroom  [What are their bathroom habits? Do they brush teeth at the same time? Fight about the toilet? Shower together? Have weird toiletries?]

Their bathroom habits are definitely a little bit opposing. Michael, unless he’s in one of his truly depressive episodes, is fairly clean. He often opts for the same routine every day: wake up, shower, shave (unless he’s growing it out, which sometimes he does), brush teeth, put on deodorant, spray on fancy cologne he spent way too much on, and leave.

Trevor, however, has less of a set schedule. He frequently chooses to forgo the traditional approach to “getting ready” unless Michael gets on him about it.

Once they start living together, though, Trevor does start to actively seek out a good shower quite often — if only so he can join his partner in a little morning rendezvous, which, of course, Michael is happy to indulge him in.

They don’t fight too much over bathroom etiquette, but, well, Trevor is still Trevor, so it’s inevitable sometimes.

“Oh, the fuck is this?” Michael mumbles, peering into the toilet below him. “Trevor!”

Mere seconds later, Trevor’s head is popping through the bathroom door. “Mm, morning to you too, sugar.”

“Tell me what I’m looking at here.”

“That,” Trevor follows his partner’s gaze to look inside the toilet bowl, “looks like a finger.”

“Yep, it does,” Michael nods along. “Why the fuck is it in our toilet?”

Trevor raises his hands in surrender. “Excuse me, I tried to get his arm down in one go, but people don’t flush like they used to. Ya know, I think it’s all the healthy shit people eat in LS. Makes their body more immune.”

“Jesus Christ.”

C is for children  [Do they have kids? Adopted or biological? What are their names? Any random head canons you have?]

Michael obviously has Tracey and Jimmy, so that’s really enough for them. Michael knows he’s already a shit father, so there’s no need to bring any more children into his world. Plus, Trevor loves both of those kids like they’re his own anyway.

And, all things considered, they both have Franklin too. Their surrogate child. Sure, Franklin pretends to be slightly disturbed at that mental image, but both men are sure he’s still happy to have them around.

Sometimes, when he’s really trying to embarrass Franklin, Trevor will talk about him to strangers like he’s their child. Michael tries to get him to stop — for the youngest boy’s sake — but he secretly finds it both endearing and funny. So, against his better judgement, Michael joins in sometimes.

“Kids are a handful, huh?”

The woman looks up from the screaming baby in her arms to Trevor, who’s talking over her shoulder. She looks slightly uncomfortable at his proximity, like she wants to push away the cart full of baby items in front of her and make a run for it, but she nods instead.

“They sure are. Got any?”

Trevor mirrors her nod before pointing over at Franklin. “Our baby boy is right there.”

Trevor can see Franklin shrink behind Michael, trying to get out of sight, while Michael stands there smirking.

“He’s just precious,” Trevor continues, his voice cracking with a faux sob. “They grow up so fast. Right in front of your eyes.”

The woman glances at Michael, almost like she’s hoping he’ll save her, but he only puts a hand to his heart and smiles. “They never stop melting your heart, though.”

As soon as the cashier yells “next,” the woman is rushing to the counter, and the two older men are left laughing as Franklin finally moves into sight.

“Fuck you both,” he grumbles.

D is for dates  [First date? Do they go out together regularly? Who usually plans?]

Their first date was definitely weird. Not in the “we shouldn’t be doing this” way. But in the “this feels like our first date and 50th simultaneously” way.

Back in North Yankton, neither of them really went on “first dates” — with each other or other people. A date feels more like a planned time to be romantic, but their relationship was anything but planned. In fact, everything often felt rushed and spontaneous, like neither knew when their life would suddenly end by imprisonment or death.

Now, as older men who feel way too past their prime and have way too much history among them to be going out on said “first dates,” the idea feels a little juvenile and silly.

Nonetheless, they do it. They do it if only for the sake of not being able to do it before. They go out on a first date — paired with nervous sweating, awkward conversations, and careful skirting over any past issues that could put a damper on the evening. It’s a simple dinner at an upscale restaurant in Vinewood, much to Trevor’s initial dismay.

“Out of all of San Andreas, this is where you pick, Mikey?”

“It’s a nice place, T.”

“Shocker that you think that, Mr. Plastic Pants,” Trevor says mockingly. “This place is full of fake celebrities and plastic surgeons. I feel like I’m about to slip and fall and accidentally get a boob job.”

“Can you just humor me for once? Please?”

And Trevor did because, truth be told, he’d go anywhere with Michael. Their first date was good all things considered, but they don’t make it a habit to go out often. It’s just not in their style — unless you count Trevor beating Michael at golf or them chasing down bikers a date, then sure.

When they do officially go out on dates, especially for important dates like anniversaries, it’s usually Michael who plans them. He’s much more of a classic date — dinner and a movie — kind of guy. He likely gets that from the movies he watches.

E is for embarrassment  [Does one get embarrassed by PDA? Do they say things to rile each other up?]

Michael does, at times, get embarrassed by Trevor’s public displays. It’s not that he’s ashamed of Trevor; it’s just harder to kick that religious guilt he’s used to. It has caused a rift a few times when Michael would flinch at Trevor calling him “baby” around strangers or throwing his arms around him and kissing his neck — especially since Michael can see their unapproving reactions in his peripheral vision.

Trevor, usually, reacts angrily — no doubt believing that his partner is embarrassed by him and their relationship. But Michael continues to reassure him until the issue is dropped.

After a few years, and a bit more therapy, the judging glances no longer irk him like they used to. And, as a result, he’ll let Trevor’s fingers snake through his or let his touch linger, even with the prying eyes of Los Santos City.

When they’re in an argument, however, Trevor does take a few liberties now and then to rile him up.

“Fine, Burger Shot it is. But when we get home, I want a blowjob.”

“Oh, Christ,” Michael groans, looking around to see how many people heard Trevor’s loud mouth.

Trevor grins. “Hopefully, I’ll be saying that soon too.”

F is for fights  [Do they bicker a lot? About trivial things? How do they make up after a large fight?]

They bicker a lot. About trivial things. About important things. About everything. But that’s them. It’s how it’s always been, and just because they’re in love, doesn’t mean it’s going to stop.

But, at least for Michael, he almost enjoys fighting with Trevor. Fighting with him only reminds him how much he’s devoted to the guy — how much he devastatingly loves the man.

With Amanda, they loved each other, but they weren’t in love with each other. So when they fought, it left him feeling bitter and lonely. But with Trevor, every fight is born out of caring about his relationship, about Trevor’s health, about their past, about their future. He just cares so violently — both of them do — that every fight starts and ends with him being in love. At least, for the most part.

G is for gifts [Do they give gifts often? Big things or small things?]

Yes, quite often. Michael is a lavish giver, even if he knows Trevor doesn’t really care one way or another about material possessions. If Michael can gift him an “Impotent Rage” comic because he used to have it as a child, even if it’s rare now and worth thousands, he’ll do it. He wants Trevor to have nice things, and he has no problem spending money in order to make that happen.

Trevor, on the opposite side, doesn’t give material gifts very often. Not really seeing the value for himself, he doesn’t much care to buy them for others either. Even so, that doesn’t mean he’s not a gift giver in his own way. Trevor will often show his giving side by actions: making sure the new movie Michael wanted to watch is rented when he comes home, cooking something for dinner (with no eyelids, he promises!), cleaning himself up, going to events he hates just because Michael loves them, and so on.

They have their own ways, and it works for them.

H is for home  [Where do they live? When did they move in together?]

They have several different residencies. Several.

After the divorce was finalized, Amanda moved out to leave for the beachfront property that she desperately craved — and asked for — all throughout their time in LS.

Michael kept the house in Rockford Hills and decided to stay there. Despite some gentle coaxing, Trevor refused to give up his trailer in Sandy Shores, but Michael was secretly happy since it gave them an excuse to drive up there and sit by the Alamo Sea.

Trevor also ended up keeping the Vanilla Unicorn, at least for the time being. Neither man makes too many appearances there anymore, but Trevor’s back office does make for a good bed if he’s mad at Michael.

Officially, though, they live in Michael’s place in Rockford Hills. It’s close to where they need to go, Michael can commute fairly easily to Solomon’s studio, and Trevor is at a perfect distance to wreck havoc in whatever part of the state he chooses day to day. Michael, in the future, would be happy to consider moving somewhere else with his partner. But right now, he’s just happy Trevor agreed to stay with him.

“T, you listening?”

“Huh? Yeah, Mikey. What is it?”

Michael grabs the remote out of the other man’s hand and forces his eyes to leave the TV. “Trevor, ‘m serious.”

“Okay, okay,” Trevor relents. “I’m all ears, pork chop.”

“How would you feel about staying here?”

“Well, considering I’ve already drove halfway across the city, drank a shit ton, and planned to strip you naked later, I’d say I feel pretty good about staying tonight.”

Michael smirks a little. “As sweet as that is, I meant more than just tonight. Like, ya know, stay. Live here.”

“Live here,” Trevor repeats slowly, his attention clearly on Michael completely now. “With you. In Rockford Hills. Here.”

“Yes,” Michael nods, but it comes out more like a question — not sure if Trevor really wants to live here with him.

“Okay,” Trevor agrees.

“Okay?”

“Yes. Okay.

The sides of Michael’s mouth tick up into a small smile. “Okay.”

I is for illness  [Do they care for each other when they’re sick?]

They’ll definitely care for each other no matter the illness, but their reactions certainly differ depending on the illness at hand.

If it’s the common cold, they’ll both gripe at each other about how “babyish” the other is being. That won’t stop them from picking up medicine, tissues, water, or anything else the other may need to feel better. Some playful banter is just to be expected.

If it’s a more “serious” sickness, a little bit lot more worry and anger is involved.

Trevor growls. “Fucking lay down. I told you smoking all those Redwoods would kill you one day.”

Michael follows his partner’s orders and leans back onto the bed, his mouth open, trying to breathe any air he can get without coughing. “I’m fine, asshole. ‘s just a bug.”

“It’s not just a bug,” Trevor huffs, laying down next to him. “Doctor said it’s bronchitis. That can be bad, Mikey.”

“I’ll be okay,” Michael mumbles, giving Trevor’s hand a squeeze to reassure him. “A lot of people get it.”

“A lot of people die from it, too. Especially if it’s chronic. More than 300 people.”

“That’s not a lot, T,” Michael reasons, shutting his eyes. “Mm, plus, doc said she doesn’t think it’s chronic.”

“Doesn’t think,” Trevor growls. “Fucking doctors. They don’t know shit until you’re dead.”

At that, Michael opens his eyes. “Calm down, T. It’s not that serious.”

“It is, Michael,” he says, spitting out his name. “I don’t want to lose your fat ass just because you can’t let go of your stupid habits, and the doctors in this city are too lazy to give a shit!”

Finally realizing the issue, Michael turns over in the bed to cuddle into Trevor’s side. “You won’t lose me, baby.”

“You don’t know that. I have before.”

“I know, and I’m sorry. But I’m here for the long haul now. You’re stuck with me.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

And when Michael stops smoking — for the most part — and convinces Trevor to try and get clean from the drugs — again, for the most part — he’s there with him every step of the way through the withdrawal symptoms.

The nightmares, lack of sleep, paranoia, irritability — all of it. Those months are probably the most Michael has ever cried, or seen Trevor cry, but it’s worth it in the end when they’re both a lot happier.

J is for jokes [Do they tease each other a lot? Do they have inside jokes nobody else gets?]

They definitely tease each other a lot. Sometimes, it’s hard to tell whether they’re teasing or bickering unless you really know them since most of their teasing is harsher words paired with playful undertones.

“I had an idea for our next anniversary.”

Trevor smirks. “Not sure if you’ll make it to our next anniversary, you fat fuck.”

Or

“Nice outfit, T. I can see you’re finally embracing the ‘I liked it before it was cool’ lifestyle.”

“Fuck off, Townley.”

K is for kisses [First kiss? Do they kiss a lot?]

Their first kiss was long ago, back in North Yankton. It was after one particularly good job in ‘86. They came away with more money than they’d ever gotten together, and it took them half the time it usually does to ward off police presence and make it back to their motel.

“Fuckin’ A,” Michael shouts as soon as the motel door is closed. “We did it!”

“Fuck yeah!”

Both boys laugh, their hearts still pumping with adrenaline. Suddenly, Michael is overcome by the excitement of the success of the job or the smile on Trevor’s face, and so he pushes him against the motel door and kisses him roughly.

The kiss only realistically lasts around five seconds, but it’s enough.

“What the fuck was that?” Trevor asks once they part.

“What?”

“You kissed me.”

Michael nods and shrugs a bit, trying not to blush. “Yeah, so what?”

Trevor doesn’t say anything. In fact, the room is deadly silent for several seconds before Trevor lunges forward and captures Michael’s mouth again.

Between then and the time he meets Amanda, Michael kisses Trevor a lot. If he’s being honest, he kisses Trevor a lot after he meets Amanda too.

When they officially reconcile their relationship and decide to give being together a real shot after the Union Depository job, they — of course — kiss a lot. They have to make up for lost time after all.

L is for love [Who said ‘I love you’ first? How do they show their love?]

Although Michael kissed him first, Trevor said “I love you” first. This, too, was back in North Yankton after a night full of celebratory drinking and sex after a big job.

However, after their reconciliation in 2013, Trevor, once again, was the one to take the lead. When it comes to emotions, Trevor’s always said exactly what he was thinking. Where Michael struggles with expressing himself, Trevor does nothing but express himself.

“What?”

Trevor shakes his head lightly at Michael’s questioning. “Nothing.”

“No, come on,” Michael pushes. “You’re lookin’ at me funny.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

Trevor sighs, glancing around the restaurant they’re currently sat in. “Can’t we eat?”

“You don’t want to tell me? When have you ever held your tongue? About literally anything?”

“Maybe I’m holding my tongue because I’m reluctant to say anything since last time I said it, it must have not meant shit because you married a stripper.”

“T, things with Amanda were complicated, you know that,” Michael says, grabbing his partner’s hand that’s resting on their table. “But it’s different now.”

Trevor gives a slight nod of agreement. “Yeah. It is.”

“So? What do you want to tell me?”

“I- I love you.”

Michael looks momentarily shocked, but he quickly recovers and breathes out a chuckle. “Oh.”

“You better say it back, Townley. You’re too old to have second thoughts.”

Despite Trevor’s quip, Michael grins. “I was just hoping I’d get to say it first this time. I love you too.”

M is for meals [Who cooks?]

Surprisingly, Trevor usually cooks. Or, rather, they do it together. Trevor likes the company, and Michael likes the assurance that no part of the food is human.

Trevor is a pretty good cook since he took care of his mom a lot when he was young between her copious amounts of “male friends.”

Although Michael usually is reluctant to relinquish control on a lot of things, he’s happy to sit back and watch Trevor cook, only helping when needed.

And if he gets to kiss the chef while he cooks, well, that’s just a bonus.

N is for nicknames [Do they shorten their names? Pet names?]

God, they never end — at least for Trevor. Michael does use the usual nicknames for his partner: T or Trev. After they started dating, “baby” will become a frequent contender.

For Trevor, he never stops coming up with nicknames — most of them being for his own amusement. Mikey, Mike, M, sugar, sugar tits, pork chop.

Some of them are more on-the-whim ideas: Mr. Plastic City and moneybags being quite popular.

Michael has asked Trevor to cool it down, but he doesn’t have much luck on that part.

“Get in, sugar tits.”

Michael climbs into the Bodhi, shooting Trevor a glare. “Can you stop calling me that?”

“I’m getting déjà vu. Thought we’ve had this conversation before, and I said no.”

“We have,” Michael rolls his eyes. “But I thought that once we, you know, started being together — you’d stop.”

“Aw,” Trevor smiles, linking their fingers together as he pulls out of the driveway. “No such luck, sugar tits.”

O is for outsiders [What do other people think about their relationship?]

Their relationship is a paradox to most — both surprising and not surprising in the slightest.

Amanda, who’s known them the longest outside of Lester, was initially shocked. With the way Michael talked about Trevor if she ever brought him up, it usually seemed like a one-sided friendship that was destined to end.

Though, when she looks back on it after the divorce, she’s not all that surprised after all.

“I should’ve known.”

Michael pauses before giving a half shrug to his soon-to-be ex wife. “I barely knew. It’s just always been … complicated.”

Amanda snorts. “Yeah, that’s one way to put it, Michael. Still, you just … never wanted to talk about him. Even after everything — especially not after everything.”

“I know, Mand.”

“I always thought that maybe it was just because you felt guilty, but, well,” she trails off. “You loved — love — him.”

“Yeah,” he breathes out. “Yeah, I do.”

Lester was even easier. He knew from beginning that the boys had a long history, and even after all the years apart, he knew the barely functioning friendship between Michael and Trevor was just years of pent up sexual tension, betrayals, and love waiting to topple over.

Franklin and Lamar were equally supportive, but Lamar did ask a lot of questions that made Franklin gently kick him under the table.

“Yo, so you and crazy dude are in love?” Lamar asks. “For real? This whole time?”

Michael glances at Franklin, who’s smirking at the exchange, before he meets Lamar’s eyes again and nods. “Yeah, we are.”

Lamar chuckles. “Good luck, homie. Bet that dude is into some freaky shit in bed.”

“What he means to say is that we’re happy for you, dog,” Franklin says while nudging Lamar. “Maybe now I won’t have to hear T bitch about you every time we grab a drink.”

“Yeah, doubtful,” Michael smirks. “I’m sure he’ll find somethin’ new to complain about.”

“Yeah, like how your ass is too fat to get in the sex swing I ordered.”

All three boys whip their heads around to see Trevor stalking up and plopping into the seat next to Michael.

“That’s not- he’s kidding,” Michael fumbles.

Franklin, looking caught between amusement and horror, just nods. “Sure, whatever you say, homie.”

P is for proposal [Who proposed first? How did they do it? A lot of planning?]

Michael proposed first. He values the traditional act of marriage a little more. Not to mention, Trevor didn’t want to ruin their relationship or scare Mike off since he only just got him back. If it was up to Trevor, though, they would have just got hitched immediately.

Although Michael considers himself a bit of a romantic with his partner — a cliché, in Trevor’s words — he didn’t plan a fancy proposal paired with dinner, a moonlit walk down Vespucci Beach, and skywriting asking the big question. No, instead, he just looked at Trevor one night and asked. He asked right then and there because, for once in his life, he just let his emotions take over.

“I understand how economics work and what the working class needs! They want a six pack of beer! An eager girl in their pickup truck! And a depressing folk tune playing on the radio!”

Michael faintly hears the voice of Impotent Rage coming from the TV in front of him, but he’s barely listening as his eyes keep glancing over at Trevor, who’s sitting next to him under their blanket, munching on a bowl of popcorn and watching the superhero chant with full attention.

A soft smile tugs at his lips as he listens to Trevor belt out a laugh at whatever’s happening in the show, and suddenly, he’s speaking without even realizing.

“T.”

“Hm?”

The man’s eyes don’t move from the television, so Michael tries again. “Trevor.”

Finally, his partner’s eyes peel away from the screen and look his way. “What, Mikey? I’m missing good TV here.”

Michael watches him for several seconds, the small smile from before still present. “Marry me.”

At that, the show fades into the background completely, and Trevor’s attention is focused. “You’re gonna have to repeat that, sugar. Think I misheard you.”

“I said, ‘Marry me.’”

“Jesus,” Trevor shuts the TV off and turns to face Michael, the blanket falling off them to their feet. “You serious? You better not be fucking with me.”

“I’m not,” Michael shakes his head, taking Trevor’s hands in his. “We should do it. Get married.”

There’s a long gap of silence where Michael’s not sure if Trevor’s going to laugh at him, punch him, or have another overt reaction. But in the end, he feels his partner’s body slam into his as they topple over onto the couch. And it takes a few seconds for it to register that Trevor is hugging him.

Michael laughs. “Is this a yes?”

“Fuck yes.”

And if Trevor cried a little too that night, well, that’s their business.

Q is for quest [Have they ever been on a quest together? Has one done something completely crazy for the other?]

Honestly, their whole lives together have been nothing but a series of quests. But, outside of the normal robbery, revenge, avoid-dying quests, they’ll absolutely go on day-to-day missions for the other — especially Trevor.

Is Michael out of that one specific product he uses for his hair and no store in Los Santos seems to carry it? Trevor will find it.

Have one of the actors on set gone missing? Trevor’s already got their location.

It doesn’t matter how utterly dumb he thinks Michael is for caring about certain things, he’ll get it done. Somehow, some way.

“You’re welcome,” Trevor says, sitting down the black, sleek bottle on the kitchen counter. “Only one I could find, Mr. Suede Bucks.”

“You got the cologne? The fuck did you find this? It ain’t been at Ponsonbys forever.”

Trevor leans down and kisses Michael, smiling proudly. “I know. It wasn’t easy.”

“Yeah, I bet, it wa-” Michael stops. “Uh, Trev?”

Trevor walks over to the fridge and pulls out a beer. “Yeah?”

Michael wipes at the bottle before holding up a red-coated finger to Trevor. “Is this blood?”

Trevor pretends to inspect it before shrugging. “Not sure.”

“Oh, really? This just happened to be here?”

“Don’t ask too many questions, Mikey. Just accept the gift.”

“I didn’t want it that bad,” Michael protests. “Not at some poor bastard’s expense.”

“I got you the cologne,” Trevor says pointedly. “Just be happy, you miserable fuck.”

Rolling his eyes, Michael smiles and leans up to connect their lips again. “Well, thank you.”

R is for rainy day [What do they do when it’s raining outside?]

What better way to spend a rainy day than a movie session that your boyfriend forces you into? Right?

Michael loves to watch movies — that much is obvious. And, since Trevor loves him, he’ll indulge him on days where it’s too wet to do anything else.

Plus, a bonus of staying indoors all day is more time for … extracurricular activities.

S is for secrets [Do they keep secrets from each other?]

Trevor’s not the type to keep secrets, so anything he does, says, or thinks pretty much goes straight to Michael.

For Mike, though, he has trouble not keeping secrets. It’s not that he actively wants to lie to people, especially those he loves, but he’s done it for so long that it’s become second nature. So much so that he even expressed the worry to his new therapist.

“I don’t want to lie to anyone, ‘specially not Trevor,” Michael admits. “But it’s like I don’t know how to stop!”

“What exactly do you lie about?”

He glances around the office, shrugging. “I don’t know. The way I feel sometimes. What I want. What I don’t want. Christ, I don’t know if I’m lying or if I just don’t know the answers.”

“I think you know the answers, Michael.”

“Maybe. I just … don’t ever want to hurt Trevor again.”

Months in therapy with an actual qualified doctor — unlike Dr. Friedlander — helped Michael find new ways to cope with his knee jerk reaction to lie.

So, no, they both try not to keep anymore secrets between the two of them.

T is for travelling [Do they go on holiday together? On journeys?]

They don’t get away very often. It’s not that they don’t have the money because obviously they do. But they’re busy with their respective jobs. Michael is often working on a movie set these days, and that can take up a lot of time. And Trevor can be found running TPI, the Vanilla Unicorn, and — of course — getting up to various shenanigans.

In a last ditch effort to connect to his kids, he did invite them on a small trip, where they ended up going to the zoo alongside Trevor.

“Ew, daddy, what is that?”

Before Michael can answer Tracey’s question, he sees her reach out toward the animal. “Trace! Don’t fuckin’ touch it!”

“Hey, you better watch out, kid, or it’ll eat you,” Trevor says, putting his arm around Tracey.

“You’d save her, uncle T,” Jimmy pipes up.

Trevor smirks. “We’d just sacrifice your dad. He’d take one for the team.”

Tracey giggles, nodding. “Totes.”

Michael pulls Trevor’s arm off of Tracey before giving him a playful shove. “Yeah, fuck you. If anything, we’d sacrifice your ass. With the way you smell, it’d probably think you’re a dead animal anyway.”

“As if you’d give me up that easily,” Trevor says, brushing their hands together as they walk along the zoo path. “You love me, Michael Townley.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Besides that, they mostly stick with San Andreas. But Michael’s been thinking about planning a trip back to North Yankton. He knows Trevor misses the Midwest, and he thinks they’re grown enough now in their relationship to relive nostalgic, good memories while there instead of being thrown back into painful ones.

U is for urges [Do they pine after each other? How often to they think about each other?]

They do pine — in their own ways. For Trevor, it’s more blatant, obvious longing.

Before getting together officially, Trevor made it a point to drudge up the past or make snippy comments about how much Michael’s changed. Under all the semi-faux anger, all he wanted was for Michael to realize how much he’s missed him.

As for Michael himself, his pining came in the form of silence. He didn’t want to ever talk about Trevor, or hear about him, or think about him. He missed him too, but every thought surrounding the man was laced with guilt.

“We did it, T!” Michael cheers. “Fuckin’ A. Pulled off the Big One.”

“Sure did, Mikey,” Trevor smiles slightly as he whips the car down the LS Freeway. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

“I know. I figured we’d be settling into prison by now if we ever attempted it. I mean, we-”

“No,” Trevor stops him. “Never thought I’d see the day since you were dead.”

The air in the car grows thicker than it usually does with Trevor’s quips as Michael struggles with how to respond.

Eventually, Michael sighs. “Thought you said we were good.”

“We are.”

“Then why do you have to bring it up? Can’t we have one decent conversation without you always having to mention it? Jesus Christ, T.”

Trevor grinds his teeth, facing Michael with an accusatory finger as the car comes to a stop on the side of the road. “Fuck you! I’m going to bring it up until you’re so sick and tired of hearing about it that you rip your own ears off!”

“Oh, well, if I’d known that was all it’d take to shut your ass up, I would’ve ripped ‘em off months ago!”

“Good! I wish you fucking would!”

Both of them lean back into the silence as Trevor slams on the gas and buzzes past the cars around them.

After pulling into his driveway, Michael gets out and slams the door behind him, leaving Trevor in the car without another word. He slowly starts the trek up to his door, suddenly realizing that — once the door shuts — he’s going to be alone once again.

Chancing a look back, he checks to see if Trevor’s still sitting in the car, and he is — unmoving.

Michael turns around and makes his way to the window, not even having to knock before Trevor’s rolling it down.

Michael gestures vaguely. “Want to come in?”

Trevor gives a curt nod and moves to get out of the car. “You better have beer.”

After popping open a few drinks and settling onto the couch, Trevor’s voice fills the otherwise quiet room. “Look, ‘m sorry. Okay? I know we’re trying to move on. But fuck, Michael. It’s hard. You … you left me, and you didn’t even think twice.”

“Didn’t think twice? You kidding me? I thought twice. I thought three times, four times, a hundred times. But I had a family, and I didn’t know what else to do. I messed up. I know that. And I’ve had to live with that every day. Every day, I thought about you — hoped that you weren’t dead, or when I was really fuckin’ depressed, hoped that you were so I didn’t have to feel so damn guilty. So don’t tell me that I didn’t think twice, asshole.”

Seconds later, the air is knocked out of Michael as Trevor pushes his lips roughly against his. He lets out a small hiss when he feels Trevor bite down on his bottom lip before his tongue brushes against his.

“I’ve missed you,” Michael breathes out against Trevor’s lips.

“I’ve missed you too, sugar.”

V is for virtues [What’s their favourite thing about each other?]

Trevor loves that Michael is, well, Michael. Despite the long list of qualities he could ramble off that he doesn’t like about him: constant sarcasm, hypocritical, arrogant …

He’s also fond of those qualities because that’s who Michael is. He’s an asshole, and Trevor likes him that way. Secretly.

Michael, on the other hand, has a distinct quality of Trevor that he’s most fond of — loyalty. Michael himself has never been loyal. He’s cheated, lied, hurt, coerced, and backstabbed almost everyone he’s ever known. Although Trevor’s physically hurt his fair share of people, his loyalty to his friends is unshakable.

Michael almost hates that about him too. He’ll often wish Trevor gave less of a shit about him because, maybe then, their past wouldn’t cut as deep.

Still, Michael will hold tightly on to every last bit of loyalty Trevor’s willing to give him now.

W is for wedding [Who plans it? Big or small? Does it go smooth?]

It’s a pretty small event considering Michael’s already done the whole marriage thing before. Neither of them really care about a monumental party paired with dancing, catering, and people galore. They really only want to get hitched for the sake of being together forever and, as Trevor jokes, so it’s practically legally required for them to love one another.

Does it go smooth? Ha! If you asked anyone — anyone — that they know if anything ever has gone smooth when it comes to Michael and Trevor, they’d laugh.

It wasn’t a total disaster or anything, but there were certainly hiccups along the way.

“The fuck do you mean he’s missing?” Michael pulls the phone away from his ear as the lady on the other end tries to explain the whereabouts of his suit tailor. “Trevor!”

“But I assure you that we’re trying to find him, Mr. De Santa.”

Michael barely catches the end of what she’s saying as he pushes the phone back against his ear. “Look, lady. I don’t give a shit where your boss is. Do you have my suit?”

“We don’t have it here with us,” she explains. “He likely took it home, but I assure you-”

Michael hangs up the phone as Trevor finally comes strutting into the kitchen.

“What’s up, pork chop? Trouble at the studio?”

“No, trouble with the suit guy. Apparently, he’s gone missing.”

“Huh.”

Michael narrows his eyes. “That was a short answer. And ya don’t seem that shocked.”

“It’s Los Santos,” Trevor shrugs. “People go missing all the time. He probably found the one hot broad in this city that likes 50-year-old men with braces and hit the road with her.”

“How did you know he had braces? I’ve never hold you that.”

“What the fuck is this, Mikey? An interrogation?”

Michael steps around the kitchen table until he’s face to face with his partner, giving him a sharp, piercing look. “Trevor.”

“Fine! I met the guy for a bit,” Trevor relents. “Went to talk to him about fixing up my outfit as well, but we didn’t see eye to eye.”

“Oh, God. What does that mean?”

Trevor’s eyes shine in light amusement. “I think we’re going to have to look for someone else.”

X is for xenia [What’s it like to be their guest?]

Well, they don’t really have a lot of people over. The only people who ever visit them are Franklin and Lamar, sometimes Tracey and Jimmy, and on the rarest occasions, Lester. But that’s usually only if he needs something.

When they’re in Sandy Shores, they’ll have Ron over, and occasionally, they’ll bring Wade when Trevor wants to get him out of the strip club.

Being their guest is like going to a haunted house. It can be fun, but you have a chance of getting traumatized in some way.

“Hey, do y’all two have any-” Franklin stops, throwing his hands over his eyes as he jumps back into the hallway. “What the fuck?”

Trevor’s laughter fills in the room as Michael blushes, fumbling for the zipper on his pants before pulling Trevor up from his knees.

“Fuck,” Michael starts. “Sorry. We ain’t doing anything. I promise.”

“Yeah, whatever you say, dog,” Franklin shudders, finally peaking through his fingers. “Look, I just came to ask if y’all had any beer. But I can see you’re busy.”

“We weren’t …” Michael trails off, knowing there’s no point in denying it. “I’ll show you where it is.”

The three boys walk downstairs, Trevor still snickering to himself as Michael nudges him every so often to try and get him to quit.

“Maybe next time, wait for your guests to leave before you start messing around up there,” Franklin chuckles.

The boys’ heads glance over when Lamar pipes up beside them, apparently catching the end of the conversation. “Yo, you and crazy dude was fuckin’ up there?”

“Kill me,” Michael mumbles while Trevor cackles beside him.

Yeah, they don’t have guests over very often anymore.

Y is for yearly [Any traditions? Anniversaries?]

They’ve picked up some new traditions and brought back some old. Back in North Yankton, before Michael ever met Amanda, there were several years that he and Trevor would bake holiday cookies for Christmas. Were they good at it? No. But that never stopped them. Neither of them grew up in particularly warm households, so it was up to them to create some kind of holiday cheer.

Plus, when Tracey was born, she loved to help out. Oftentimes, you could find her in Trevor’s arms as they used cookie cutters to make the dough into little trees and reindeer.

Deciding to carry that tradition into their relationship and marriage, every Christmas they bake cookies, and every year, they taste a little like shit. But they both love it.

“Merry Christmas, daddy,” Tracey says, hugging Michael and Trevor. “Merry Christmas, uncle T.”

“Merry Christmas, kid,” Trevor pats her back before going to grab a few of the supplies needed for the recipe they’re making.

Michael hands her a bowl for the dough. “Merry Christmas, Trace. Glad you could come over. How’s college going?”

“Good! Classes, like, totally rock!”

He smiles, nodding approvingly. “Good.”

“What about your brother? He too good to hang out with us tonight?” Trevor jokes, setting the butter, milk, and eggs down on to the table.

Tracey giggles. “I think he’s working.”

“I’m still not used to hearing that,” Michael laughs. “What about your mom?”

“She’s good too. She’s, and I quote, ‘finally relaxed now that you’re someone else’s problem.’”

Trevor snorts. “Ain’t that the truth.”

“You wouldn’t want it any other way,” Michael shoves him lightly.

“Maybe not.”

Michael, Trevor, and Tracey work in unison for the next 20 minutes until they finally have some semi-decent cookies that are ready to be baked. Sticking them in the oven and setting a timer, they all get cleaned up and move to the living room.

Michael flops down onto the couch, and Trevor falls next to him, putting his arm around his shoulders. Tracey makes her way to the other side of the couch so she can stretch her legs as they all wait for the cookies to be done.

“We should make this a tradition again! Now that you and daddy are together, we could do this, like, every year. Remember when we used to do this when I was young, uncle T?”

“Sure do, kiddo,” Trevor grins. “With Jimmy too.”

She shrugs. “Yeah, I guess he could even come next year. What do you think?”

Michael sees that Tracey and Trevor are looking at him for an answer, so he nods. “Yeah, we could probably make that happen.”

The three of them talk about the future, Tracey mostly supplying the conversation with her babbling while Michael and Trevor happily sit back, leaning into each other as they listen.

When it comes to anniversaries, they also celebrate those every year. They’re not as uptight as some couples about them, but they tend to mean a lot to Trevor, and it’s a concrete way for Michael to show that he’s putting work into their relationship and cares about it enough to do so. So, they celebrate them every year.

Z is for Zzz [Sleep habits? Who’s the big spoon? What do they wear in bed? Are they coddlers?]

Michael’s never really gotten a perfect night’s rest — not since he was a baby presumably. He’s had okay nights and even, what he’d consider, good nights. But never perfect. Never the full eight hours of uninterrupted sleep.

Nightmares often plague his nighttime life. When he was a teen, it used to be flashes of his father hitting him — beating him black and blue until he was coughing blood days after. As a young adult, he dreamt of robberies gone wrong, getting shot, going to prison, and so on. As an older man, his dreams are a toss-up between his past worries and his future ones. Hurting Trevor, dying, or, most often, both.

Trevor, in the past, didn’t sleep a lot either. Some nightmares, sure, but mostly from the drugs coursing through his veins at any given time. Since Michael and him got together and he started working on being clean, he’s gotten a bit more sleep than the usual.

The same can be said for Michael, though. Sleeping next to Trevor has helped tremendously, especially for his Trevor-themed nightmares. Knowing he’ll wake up next to the man is comforting.

Because of their shaky sleep schedule, they both take turns being the big spoon/little spoon depending on who needs what.

Trevor gently nudges Michael, who’s restlessly tossing around. “Mikey … Mikey.”

Michael’s eyes fly open, and Trevor grabs his arms to stop them from reaching for the gun by the bed.

The dark room stays silent for a minute as Michael’s breathing levels out before he sighs. “Sorry. Did I wake you up?”

Trevor gives a noncommittal hum. “You haven’t had a dream like that in awhile.”

“Yeah, we’ve been sleepin’ good recently, huh?”

Trevor puts his arms around Michael, feeling his bare chest rise and fall steadily. “Yeah, sure have. What were you dreamin’ about?”

“Just … North Yankton,” Michael admits, pulling Trevor close. “Being back there — what could have happened, I guess.”

“There’s no use thinking about the past since we can’t change it. Ain’t that what your new shrink said?”

“She said I should let it go,” he corrects. “But I can’t.”

Trevor frowns, tracing circles on Michael’s chest. “Why not? Still sad you missed your opportunity to put me down?

“Knock it off,” Michael grabs his hand, scratching where Trevor was lightly brushing before. “And that ain’t funny, T.”

Trevor rolls his eyes but decides not to push it. “Look, sugar, we all have things we regret. But we’re here now, and that’s what matters, right? We’ve got your spoiled kids, Franklin, Lamar, hell, even Lester. We’re good.”

“I know,” Michael says quietly, agreeing. “I really am sorry, though. For a lot shit.”

“Yeah, me too. For a lot of shit.”

Michael leans down and kisses Trevor’s head before pulling the blankets up over them again and going back to sleep.

When they can’t sleep, it’s usually filled with just that — banter, soft comforts, and an insult or two so the other can feel right at home. It’s not always picture perfect, but they wouldn’t trade it for anything else.

#michael de santa #michael townley #trikey #trevor philips #ask response

[lexithwrites]

One shot / headcannon idea to maybe help get you writing for: wolfstar :)

Remus is a total major loser. Like he’s definitely not swag boy Remus he’s just some guy that constantly hangs around with it boys James and Sirius. No one understands why. He gets a little insecure about it sometimes.

(Obviously they always assure him that’s he’s fucking brilliant to them and don’t let him leave because they’re best friends but anyway, he’s just a loser boy, not very attractive, always keeps to himself and just reads all the time, blah blah blah)

And Sirius Black, the boy of Hogwarts. Like all the girls are fawning over him, hoping they catch Sirius’ eye. He’s just drop dead gorgeous you know but he just doesn’t care. Like sure he knows he’s hot and he gets quite cocky about it sometimes and uses it to his advantage to get what he wants and pull of pranks, but generally he just doesn’t give and shit and just wants to spend time with his Friends.

Hot as hell Sirius Black + loser boy not really attractive Remus Lupin = angsty pining.

And I don’t mean this in the way that Remus pins for Sirius and thinks he’ll never get him. NO! What if Remus doesn’t even know he’s gay. What if he just thinks he’s so jealous of everything Sirius is and blah blah blah (classic queer girls thinking they wanna be that cool older girl and then growing up and realising they just had a crush).

And it’s Sirius who’s so pathetically in love with Remus. Like since day one. And it’s all James and even Peter have to hear about but it can NEVER get back to Remus because obviously Remus isn’t gay and obviously he’ll reject Sirius because obviously anyone will reject him once they learn about all of Sirius’ scars and dark parts.

And so it’s Sirius just being so in love with this major loser boy Remus and not knowing what to do with it. And then Remus finding out and just being (1) confused as hell. (2) going into gay crisis. (3) wondering how the hell someone like Sirius would ever want Remus

I think that would be funny. Because we usually see it the other way around ya know?

Anyway, no pressure to write obviously, I just thought I’d leave this here anyway. I know the struggle of needing motivation to write lol. Happy writing and happy weekend!

(you're amazing for all the mesages btw)

remus being a fucking loser is my favourite thing, like he's so quiet and weird and just sits in cafes and reads books for hours—he's me, i am remus—and hates talking to people but works in like a damn cafe so he has to and then there's sirius who probably loves talking to customers and everyone on earth and he can talk about anything for hours and make people feel welcome and remus just doesn't get what sirius sees in him but sirius is lowkey like THIS GUY IS SO HOT AND QUIET AND MYSTERIOUS I WANNA CLIMB HIM LIKE A TREE—

#the marauders #sirius black #remus lupin #wolfstar #wolfstar headcanon #wolfstar hc #remus x sirius #sirius x remus #remus lupin x sirius black #sirius black x remus lupin

[dellalyra]

omg imagine gojo with a welsh or irish gf - another irish girl

Gojo would thrive with one of us Irish women

Because let’s face it: we’re mostly all firebrands, strong, fiery passionate women.

That strong sense of loyalty and family (blood or found) oriented attitude? He relishes it, a feeling of belonging - of being truly loved and respected by someone? Amazing. The fiery nature of our blood lends itself a protective nature. The higher ups are giving him shit? Not a chance.

“Eh? Excuse you, you wrinkly sack of shite? What your last skivvy die of? Hush your gob or I’ll shut it for you. Fucking scarlet for ya’, absolute state of ya.”

Sometimes when you’re angry your accent becomes thicker or if you’re a gaeilgeoir you might slip into your teanga nádúrtha and I stg gojo has never gotten a hard on quicker in his life than seeing you spitting fire at that typical angry Irish girl speed of light.

None of his arrogance or occasional push-too-far would float either. None of us have the energy.

“Satoru, for the love of God, if you keep going on about not wanting to do the washing up because you’re the strongest, I’m going to crack up. I don’t have the energy for your shite right now. Now get up off your arse and clean the pan.”

Probably takes him a while to get used to how casually we curse and drink too, like you’re going to see your friends?

“I’m meeting the gang for a few jars tonight, coming?”

“The fuck are you doing with jars?”

The vernacular gets him too.

“SATORU!” Comes a shout from across the house.

“Yes, gremlin?”

“Grab me a few tea cloths from the hot press will you? Good chap.”

“Hot press? Is that a sex position?”

“Oh, Jesus Mary and Joseph.”

If you guys have kids - they’re brought up with the value that the mammy is the centre of the family and nothing goes on without her say so.

Like imagine a little mini version of Satoru running around and sprinting to his dad.

“Daddy, can I have the sweets on the table?” Shiny blue eyes mirror each other.

“Ask your mother, kiddo, it’s her dairy milk.”

The patter of feet is followed by a:

“MAAAAAAA! Can I have your selection box?”

“You can in your hat!”

Satoru sick? Why do you keep giving him flat 7up or cream crackers? Suguru got wounded on a mission, why do you insist on putting sudocream on it?

Christmas rolls around and for some reason in late November it’s a very big deal one Friday night. You have cornered him, Suguru and Shoko and forced them all into Christmas pyjamas and made hot chocolates for everyone and switched the telly on.

“What is going on? It’s not even Christmas.” Suguru asks, completely lost.

“Wha? Sure it’s the last Friday in November.”

The three just sit in silence.

“You three, thick as a plank, the lot of ye. I told ye last week that it’s the Toy Show tonight!”

“The what show?”

“The Toy Show!”

“It’s a show… about toys?”

“Yeah! A load of kids showing off their toys and showing how they work and all. Fierce funny. Robbie Keane usually ends up on it too somehow.”

If ever there’s an issue where some arsehole is annoying you about stereotypes, it’s always an entertaining show for Satoru.

“Can you do a Riverdance?” The stranger asks.

“Jaysus, sure I haven’t done any Irish dancing since I was in 3rd class and my nanny forced me to.”

Introducing him to Irish delicacies?

No I don’t mean coddle, or stew.

I mean real delicacies.

Like a chicken fillet roll or a spice bag. Your Nana’s apple tart. Soda bread or a bottle of Lilt. Bag of tayto (cheese and onion, obviously) or purple snack bars? A curly wurly? Red lemonade or a mikado biscuit? (Fuck, we love sweets I’m realising as I write this) or a decent cup of tea (Barry’s or Lyon’s, I won’t start that debate here).

Most of all, I think Satoru would thrive in the warmth of an Irish woman. We might be temperamental, battleaxes sometimes, and always a bit mad but one thing I know is we love wholeheartedly and fiercely, with every fibre of who we are. That belonging, the nurturing, the warmth and sheer sense of home that we all somehow tend to exude would made Satoru an incredibly happy man.

#gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo fluff

[les-pompiers118]

The road home

9-1-1 ficlet | 2x03 coda | 1.3K words | rated Teen

I'm back with my little asphalt truck full of words to fill in the cracks between episodes, for @911hiatus' Week 4 prompt, "refuge." We were truly robbed (robbed!) of seeing the scene when Buck meets Chris for the first time. So here ya go: the first ever Buckley-Diaz Family Moment.

“So, you made it through your first natural disaster,” Buck says to break the silence in the car. The radio’s off, the road is practically empty by L.A. standards, and the power’s still out on a lot of blocks. Staying quiet just makes the night feel that much eerier.

Eddie huffs. “You say that like there’s going to be a lot more of them.”

Buck steers them smoothly around the curve of an offramp. Okay, maybe now isn’t the best time to suggest that disasters are going to be a regular thing, while they’re on their way to pick up Eddie’s son at his school after a big earthquake. Even though he knows Christopher is safe, Eddie’s not going to be alright until he lays eyes on his kid. Buck gets that.

“I just meant that it was an intense day for someone who’s only been on the job for a few weeks. You okay?”

“Not my first rodeo, Buck. Warzones, remember?”

Eddie’s smiling in the dark beside him, Buck can tell, which means he’s not offended. “Yeah, but earthquakes are a different kind of warzone. The only enemy here was, uh—”

“Gravity?” Eddie finishes for him.

“I was gonna say tectonic plates, but yeah, gravity was definitely working against us today.”

“That elevator, man. Crazy.”

“Pfft, yeah,” Buck agrees.

“How many disasters have you worked, exactly? You’ve only been doing this for, what, a year?”

Buck tilts his head in acknowledgement. “This would be my second. There was that plane crash last winter, the one that went down right off the beach by LAX. Not a natural disaster, obviously, but a major incident.”

“Oh, wow. That must have been something.”

“It was… pretty bad.”

Eddie doesn’t say more, and Buck thinks he’s done with this particular subject, but then he asks tentatively, “What did you do afterwards? I mean, after your shift ended? How did you deal with it?”

Buck shivers, remembering the cold water and the smell of jet fuel that clung to them all on the ride back to the station. He remembers Bobby’s uncharacteristic silence and how his own thoughts kept going back to Abby and that call she took from a passenger on the plane. She was the last person that guy talked to, a faceless voice coming through his phone, and there was nothing she could do to help him.

“I, uh, took a long, hot shower and got myself cleaned up,” Buck answers after a long pause. “And then I went home and watched TV for a few hours, I think. Sitcoms, reality shows, dumb stuff like that. Anything but the fucking news.”

“So you just try to put it out of your head as quickly as possible?” Eddie asks, sounding skeptical.

“And sleep. That helps too.” Buck grins over at him in the light of some oncoming headlights. “Isn’t that what you guys did in an actual warzone, when shit went down?”

Eddie chuckles. “Sort of. It was a little bit harder to take off the uniform and drive away from it all at the end of the day, though. And the sleeping part wasn’t always as easy, depending on where we were.”

“I bet. Hey, we’re almost there,” Buck says, bending closer to his phone to look at the GPS map. “Should I park in the lot?”

“No, just pull up to the front doors. They said they’d be waiting for me right inside.”

Buck has barely put the car in park before Eddie’s out and running towards the school. Leaning across the passenger seat, he watches Eddie’s silhouette against the brightly lit hallway beyond the glass doors, his impatient little shuffle while he waits to be buzzed in. And then he’s through and down on his knees to hug a kid who looks impossibly small next to the teacher standing there.

Buck’s throat suddenly gets tight and he blinks hard. He can almost feel the relief in that hug, the fierce love. God.

Eddie talks with the teacher for a minute, then scoops Christopher up and carries him out. Through the open window of the Jeep, Buck can hear Eddie’s voice, reassuring and cheerful, as they approach.

“Where’s your truck?” Christopher asks as his dad opens the back door and sets him into the booster seat.

“Some bricks fell off the back of the firehouse during the earthquake and broke the windshield,” Eddie explains. “I’ll have someone come fix it tomorrow, but tonight we get a chauffeur. This is Buck. He’s a firefighter, too. Buck, meet Christopher.”

Buck twists around to see into the back seat better. Christopher smiles right back at him under the dome light, all baby teeth and brown curls. Something grips the inside of Buck’s chest, both painful and sweet.

“Nice to meet you, Christopher,” he says. “One-way trip to the Diaz residence, coming right up.”

Chris cranes his neck a little to talk to Buck as Eddie gets him buckled in. “You and my dad work together? At the firehouse?”

“Yup.”

“Is he doing a good job so far?”

Eddie bursts out laughing and wraps one hand around Christopher’s head to plant a kiss on top of it. “Are you asking for my report card, kiddo? I don’t think it’s time for me to get one, just yet. And Buck’s not my captain.”

“He’s doing great,” Buck assures Christopher. “He’s taking to it like a duck to water. Just jumped right into the pond with a big splash and started swimming.”

That earns him a giggle from Christopher and a barely-concealed smile from Eddie.

Buck gets their address and they set off again. Thankfully, they don’t have far to go and none of the streets are blocked off. Christopher tells his dad about his extra-long day at school and what they got to do after the earthquake instead of their usual subjects. It sounds like the teachers pulled out all the stops to make sure the kids weren’t scared while they waited to be picked up—movies, games, and music in the gymnasium.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t come get you sooner,” Eddie says over his shoulder. “There were a lot of calls coming in today.”

“It’s okay, Dad. You were helping people. And I got to make a volcano with the science teacher!”

“See?” Buck says to Eddie across the front seat. “Another natural disaster already.”

“Two in one day. I’m gonna need a few extra sitcoms tonight, I guess.”

Buck glances into the rearview mirror, where he can just see Christopher’s face in the booster seat, and tells Eddie quietly, “I think you have something better than TV to help you put the day behind you.”

“Yeah, I think you’re right.”

Buck can tell he’s smiling again.

It’s almost 9:00 PM when they pull into Eddie’s driveway. Buck expects to reverse right back out again and make his way to Abby’s apartment, but Eddie turns to him after he shuts off the engine.

“I know it’s kind of late, but do you want to come in for a bit? I can make us something to eat after I get Chris to bed. It’s just frozen pizza, but you’d be welcome to it.”

Eddie sounds tentative, Buck thinks, maybe because he’s a little embarrassed about the pizza (which Buck would gladly devour right now), or because they don’t really know each other all that well yet. Until this morning, Buck didn’t even know he had a kid. And now here he is at the end of the same day, parked in front of Eddie’s tiny Spanish-style stucco house and being offered dinner.

“Come on,” Eddie coaxes. “It’s the least we can do to thank you for the ride.”

“Yeah, come inside,” Christopher chimes in eagerly.

Buck looks out at the house again. This is Eddie’s home and refuge, the center of his life outside the firehouse. He and Christopher are inviting Buck into their little world tonight, if only for frozen pizza. There’s a cricket singing somewhere in the bushes, and the porchlight casts a cozy, golden glow over the lawn, beckoning him.

“All right,” Buck says at last. “I will.”

#911 #911 fic #911hiatus2023 #evan buckley #eddie diaz #christopher diaz #my writing

[prozac-shaped-urn]

I’m goddamn serious when I say I socked that Leocadia audio away and used it for hot tub on the mesa because lemme tell you what just happened.

Breathy grunts n shit allow me to hypothesize sex positions, which then allows me to hypothesize sex scene dialogue, which then allows me to hypothesize specific motives for both characters, which then allows me to apply motive to other places in the story, which then gives me a better insight into what these characters want and need.

I just unlocked Stella’s place in this puzzle. She’s Beth’s daughter, 25, a recovering addict and a fashion photographer. She’s the undercurrent of logic in this story and it’s ironic that it’s her who’s the “brains” so to speak. Beth comes to her when she’s getting really self-conscious about her body, and Stella’s the one who reminds her “it’s called self-worth for a reason. Only you can determine your self-worth because it comes from you and you alone.” Which is like……. SO wise.

But also!!! There’s a thing I do where I find something that’s mine and nobody else’s on my body. Like my stretch marks. They’re mine. They’re a tattoo in my skin and cannot be replicated on anyone else. They’re my calligraphy fingerprints and no one else has them. My only child ass LOVES doing this. So that’ll be going in the script.

A third thing!!!! I’ve been playing around with the whole idea of sexuality in women 50+ and how it would no doubt be difficult for a woman of that age to go full steam ahead and throw caution to the wind and whatnot, on film and IRL. So hearing a 30-something Donna be… idk I guess open is the right word here… in delivering a performance with a sexual aspect in it gives me something to point to and go “OKAY! So obviously she was younger then but that woman is still alive inside her right now. Is there something I can gain from this? Can I translate this into a language which would play well on film? Can I headcanon my way into a 3D character with all the qualities needed for a full backstory, arc, motive, lesson to learn, etc? And if I can’t, then at least I tried.”

And ya know what? It helped. It helped so much. Because now I’m looking at Felicity going “…honey child, you’re about to carry all of my insecurities about my stomach and you’ll carry them better than I ever will.” And that’s a beautiful discovery.

(No I didn’t mix the names up. Liss has the body insecurities and Beth is self-conscious about literally everything thanks to social media. Body image issues are only a small % of Beth’s insecurities. Liss p much worked thru her shit except for her belly. Which like,,, same sis.)

#irl post #writing #hot tub on the mesa #being a feral fangirl comes in handy sometimes

[singaporesainz]

Multiple hot takes in this one:

I think people who keep up with wags are weird especially those who make fan pages and defend them like they know them especially for the wags who literally never interact with people so you don’t even know their personalities. I think it’s also weird when you see a photo of a driver with their partner ie Oscar and lily and people go oh she’s Barbie and he’s there I guess like you can compliment her but putting down a person to compliment another is crazy to me. It’s just icky because if someone said that to my partner or about them I’d be upset. It’s just weird 😰 obviously there are exceptions for if they’re in their own field and you genuinely like their work then that’s okay. Like Alex’s gf lily who’s a pro golfer, but only liking their stuff when it’s attached to said driver and them being a wag is the weird bit.

Speaking of Oscar, this is more Charles fans, I love Charles a lot but those Charles fans who come out of the woodwork to use Oscar to put lando down is insane. Lando will have a bad stop and Oscar will do a good thing and I just see all these Charles fans saying Oscar finally showing lando he’s washed or I bet landos pissed Oscar won before him, which has been proven wrong on many occasions he’s proud of Oscar and does everything to bring it up knowing Oscar won’t really brag about it . Like you guys should be more worried about what war Ferrari is brewing over there instead of trying to make it seem like lando and Oscar hate eachother.

Which brings me to my third take, I love c2 content it’s great but people who are deluding themselves into thinking they’re besties is crazy. It’s okay they can just be teammates no one’s gonna die. I feel like people use the excuse oh well would you laugh with someone you hated? Uh yes especially if I have to work with them, you can also have good times with someone you don’t like. Plus they get paid for this so obviously theyre gonna laugh and do whatever to secure their seats. I’m not saying they hate eachother either I’m just saying they’re coworkers atleast and at most friends but those type of friends you make in certain classes so it makes time go faster ya know.

Also Carlos needs to muzzle his mother because lord I would not let my family members have twter accounts or social media accounts. The way you could literally lose your seat over something a family member likes is crazy. Like why was she beefing with Ferraris long standing driver you’d think she’d want her son to keep his chair especially since Carlos’ sponsor backing is leaving the team. I’d be all up on twter liking c2 content and even some Charles posts congratulating him on doing good like cmon. Shit talking your competitor isn’t gonna work with Carlos like it did his dad in rallying but that’s neither here nor there

One last thing which might be so controversial but like I gotta say it. Checo hate is ridiculous, Yes he made the woman should be in the kitchen statement but you have to understand that was a long time ago and after that incident he apologized profusely and he even has an organization to help young women in motorsports and always mentions the women who work in motorsports. Yes he shouldn’t have said it in the first place but he has learned and grown and showed that he grew from that. It’s a lot more than some of the current drivers who have said or laughed at jokes at women’s expenses and never apologize. hate him for cheating, like honestly there’s a few drivers I don’t like because of cheating that’s just a moral thing on my end but I think the unnecessary hate is unneeded.

This just came to me while rereading this but also those people who compared Bianca being ableist to lando moaning in stream are mad weird. So obsessed too like yall are missing the whole point of why everyone’s upset just so you can whine about how you don’t like lando like he’s not a 25 year old man who can do what he wants. Lando being silly and horny on stream is not the same as using autism as a derogatory word towards another driver who is doing your dream job ((finishing 27th in your championship while your teammates all finished 1-2-3 is embarrassing) (don’t even get me started on her exploiting her brother))

Anyways just wanted to get that off my chests sorry for the essay 🤞😺

girlie pop this is an ESSAY, and im glad you decided to get it off your chest on my blog fr. though i will say that i do not have it in me to respond to every point to great detail so, sorry.

keeping up with wags -> i've been saying this and i agree. wag obsessed people are fucking weird i could go into heavy detail and i have.

oscar -> i didn't think charles fans were doing that thought it was just people who had a general distaste for lando. i've seen the discourse about how lando is probably hurt/salty/angry but people like to make something out of nothing. theyre bored.

c2 -> my personal take is theyre strictly work friends. like neither of them would go out of their way to try and hangout beyond the track, but they get along fine when they need to. i dont think there are any ill feelings there btjm

carlos's mom -> yeah don't know what to say about this except she's a mom being a mom, and not realizing that her likes are public. can't speak to reyes and her ways, as i've said before i try not to pay too much attention to watch goes on outside of carlos really.

checo hate -> i know it exists but i havent come across it to get into detail. but wild loud hate on any driver i think is fucking ridiculous. like the haters who are loud and proud and harassing the driver?? theyre gross and pathetic.

bianca discourse -> didn't know people were comparing??? girlie idk what side of social media you're on but it sounds like a weird and scary place. and people who are doing that are just trying to find a way to diminish her and validate their burning desire to just hate on her.

#hot take hotline #wag discourse #oscar piastri #c2 #carlos sainz #checo perez #bianca busamante

[yeehawbvby]

Falling Away With You | Ch. 18

Sebastian x F!Reader and M. Rasmodius x F!Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Chapter Summary: The wizard is finally here, and he is hot.

Author’s Note: Here’s the portrait mod I use for Rasmodius, which is how he’s intended to be pictured in this work! 

And here’s a visual reference, for those who don’t mod:

Enjoy and take care x

Edit: Almost forgot to add, the tower interior is loosely based off how it looks in SVE. It’s much livelier than the vanilla version :’)

Table of Contents + Work Summary

Check it out on ao3!

Prev | Next

I’ve spent the past few days cleaning up a bit, and convinced Robin — with promises of tons of wood and fresh peaches, whenever the fruit saplings have fully grown in — to help me clear out the majority of the trees around my farm. With the exception of a bunch of rocks, which I still need a stronger pick for, the land is pretty much cleared out!

Cannoli has the zoomies, and there’s plenty of new space here for him to play, so he’s having a blast. I take a mental note to toss some ice cubes in his water bowl later — with the wretched sun beating down on us like this, he’s bound to need ‘em. 

While I bury a small handful of blueberry seeds in the freshly hoed dirt, I fantasize about setting up a small play space for him, maybe inside the small cave on my land. Could hang some string lights, put a few blankets and pillows in there, some catnip toys maybe… that shit would look cute. I’d just have to figure out a way to get him to coexist with all the fruit bats hidden in there.

The emo man sitting on my stoop speaks up over the soft lofi hip-hop playing from my phone’s speaker, breaking me from my thoughts.

“So… Sebby, huh?”

“What?” I look up, confused, as he puts out his cigarette in the ashtray.

It’s just a plain one I ordered online from Joja (blegh), but I want to commission Clint and/or Emily for a custom and cooler one. If they’re up for it. I know I don’t, like, have to give him anything in return for my sick bouquet, but the idea always pops into my mind.

“You called me Sebby unironically last week. I forgot to ask about that.” 

God, I’d forgotten about that. Not, like… the fucking part. Obviously. I mean the ~Sebby~ part. I was having the time of my life, the absolute last thing on my mind was how to address him. I blush, recalling that day. 

“Yeahhh, sorry. I didn’t really mean to.”

“You could call me that if you want, you know…”

Having just finished a row of seeds, I flip around to face the next one. “That’s a high honor,” I tease, “You sure I’m worthy of it?”

“You could call me anything with a moan like that, (y/n).”

I roll my eyes and snort at his horny remark and try to come up with something witty, ignoring how secretly proud I feel. “What if I were to call you… I dunno. Shitballs?” 

Perfect. Yes. 10/10 idea, (y/n). You’re so smart!

“Then I’d take back everything I just said.”

“Booooo,” I heckle, laughing at his absolutely fed up expression. “What about Bash?”

“Bash?”

“Yeah, like Se-Bash-tian, ya know?”

He hums in thought. “Honestly, I don’t hate it.”

“…What if I pull a 180 and start calling you ‘darling’ and stuff?”

“Don’t push your luck, princess.”

Chills run down my spine. “Mmm.” A low, demonic chuckle emits from Seb at my reaction. A hot one. It’s not helping me simmer down at all. Without looking back to show my annoyance, I respond, “I’d rather finish up the last of this planting than feel things right now, so if you don’t shut the fuck up over ther—“

I’m cut off by a light flick to the back of my head.

“Ack!” I gasp. “Ya creep… your footsteps are so quiet.” I hover my hand over the area that my hat won’t block the sun from, and look up at the culprit.

He doesn’t respond verbally, simply winking at me instead. He kneels down next to me, using his bare hands to work a bowl into the soil. Reaching around to the basket on the opposite side of me, he steals a pack of seeds and gets to work.

“What are you doing?”

“Helping.”

I grin and continue, scooting over to the next spot. “Well yeah, but like, you don’t have to do this. Could just hang out inside or something if you want to. I don’t care.”

“Maybe I want to help.”

I shoot him a quick, cocky grin. “What got you so keen on farming all of the sudden, hm?”

”Don’t worry about it.”

That sounded a little sheepish, almost. His cheeks are looking awfully pink too, but I can’t tell if it’s sunburn or blush. I decide to spare him.

“Fineee.” I sigh, thinking of how the only way that this moment could be better would be if the sun wasn’t so fucking hot today. “Thank you… Bash.”

“Hey, what’d I say about pushing your luck just now? Hm?” Seb scolds while I snicker to myself.

“What?! You literally just said you like that one.” I flick some dirt at him, and he scoffs. 

“I don’t like the way you said it.” 

“Whatever Bastion.”

“I hate you.”

“You don’t, actually.”

He groans while I snicker, moving onto the next and last row. He follows shortly after, but crouches behind me this time instead of helping. I think he’s feeling needy for my attention, which would be more adorable if I didn’t want to work. His fingers trail along my sweaty back, covered only by a black sports bra. 

“Whatcha doin’ back there?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Aren’t I, like, a little icky for this though?”

Not looking back, I notice Seb’s shadow, as he shakes his head above my own. “Somehow you’re still cute, all covered in sweat.” 

“Gross,” I whine as if I’m not a little flustered by the compliment. “Well, I’ve gotta shimmy over a little, so move,” I add, wiggling Seb’s hands off of me.

I scoot. He scoots too and keeps touching me. This time, his hands are brushing my hips… toying with the waistband of my light blue gym shorts… slipping into the waistband. 

“Mmm— You’re awfully distracting…” I breathe out, flustered. 

“Fine, I’ll stop.”

I laugh and shake my head as he steals my straw hat off my noggin. 

He plops down at the end of the row of soon-to-be crops I’m tending to. When I glance up, I’m not expecting to be super attracted to Seb in a straw hat. How foolish of me. How could I forget that he could look hot in literally anything?

He’s leaning back, propped up on his elbows, watching Cannoli explore in the distance. His short sleeved, black, button-down shirt is fully open, showing off his torso as well as the long chain that was hidden underneath the fabric. Looks like thin, silver barbed wire. Both of Seb’s legs are out in front of him, his right crossed over the left, as his rolled up pants expose some of his calves. His bangs are pinned back too, although that’s mostly hidden now thanks to my hat.

He’s way out of my league. Dude looks so frickin’ cool, without even trying…

Catching me looking, Seb tilts his head, smirks and raises a brow. I look away immediately, bashfully admitting, “You look hot…” 

“Didn’t you just shoo me away for ogling?” He squints at my rosy face as I look back down, nodding in defeat. “Back to work, (y/l/n).”

I rush through the last row before literally throwing myself at Seb. I wrap my arms around his neck and straddle his hips, knocking him off his elbows.

“Oh my god you’re so moist.”

I giggle mischievously and respond in the most seductive tone I can manage. “Embrace the sweat, baby. I thought you liked it.” I cut myself off with more laughter.

“You fucking goblin!” Seb growls. He tumbles us over so that he’s on top of me, picks me up with a grunt, and begins to fucking speed-walk towards one of the many ponds in my yard.

“H-hey, easy there buddy!” I try to wiggle from his grasp, eyes wide.

He wouldn’t throw me in, would he?

…Would he? 

“Let’s not noT BE HASTY NO—“

SPLASH

_______________

After Seb and I cleaned ourselves up from gardening and impromptu swimming (amongst other things, heheheh), we invited Sam to hang out. I feel cozier having more than one person over at a time, now that I have the seating for it.

I finally got some actual furniture, meaning the cabin looks more lived in. Still haven’t followed through with getting a kotatsu yet, but as soon as I can find one I like, you can bet your ass it’s going right where this table is.

We’d planned on playing some games, but instead, we’ve just been loafing around with cold, sugary drinks and a bunch of snacks Sam brought over from a subscription box he’s trying out. After a short silence, a frustrated thought comes to my mind. 

“I wanna be friends with Abigail!” I exclaim, slamming a fist on the table.

Seb silently looks at me with wide eyes while Sam clutches his heart, letting out a big huff. 

“That was so aggressive.” Sam sighs.

“Sorry. Got amped.”

“That’s gonna be a lot of work, you know,” Sebastian points out, a matcha flavored Pocky hanging from his lips. “She’s not a fan of most women.”

Sam nudges him. “Especially the ones who take her wittle Sebbykins away from her.”

I wince and mumble, “Gross,” before sipping some lemonade.

While Seb shoves him back, I explain myself. “I know it’ll be tough, but like, I wanna be able to hang out with all of you. Just… you know. Without running the risk of becoming a victim to some weird yandere outrage.”

The two of them nod, Sam adding a shrug and head-tilt of understanding to his. 

My attention is stolen momentarily by Cannoli, yelling for a water refill. Stretching my arms over my head and then behind my back, I leave my chair to oblige.

I shout over the running water in the kitchen, “Got any leads for me?”

“Well, she likes video games and food,” Sam suggests.

“She’s super into the idea of adventuring. Not sure if she’d actually be able to handle the mines or anything, though,” Seb adds on.

“Oh yeah,” Sam nods, “She practices with her wooden sword in the cemetery sometimes. Scared the crud outta me the first few times I found her out there.”

Placing the bowl down, I return to my spot, stealing a taiyaki snack from the box as I sit. “Why the cemetery?“ I ask.

“She has to sneak out to practice at night, and it’s close to her house,” Seb says. “Pierre is traditional. If something isn’t ladylike and Abby takes interest, he shuts it down.” 

I wonder if her aversion to women stems from an embedded defiance towards Pierre. This isn’t the time to psychoanalyze, though.

“Hmm…” I wonder aloud, “I could try and take her on a secret adventure, maybe. I’ve been wondering about that creepy tower in the forest a lot. Do you guys think she’d be into scoping it out?”

Seb nods, “Well… yeah, she’d love that.” Him and Sam look at one another, grimacing slightly. Ugh. There’s gonna be a catch to this.

“Go on,” I deadpan.

“Do you know how to wield a sword or anything?” Sam blurts out. “Nobody knows who or what is in there. What if you two get hurt?” 

“Yes, I know how to use a sword. How else would I be able to visit the mines?” 

“How far down have you gone?” Seb questions.

“I dunno, like…” I think for a moment, “5 or 6 floors maybe?”

“Oh, you sweet summer child.”

“What?! For someone who’s never been mining before moving here, I’d say I rock.”

“Was that pun intended?” Sam whispers meekly, as if he knows the reaction he’s about to get.  

As I groan out a “No, you little…”, Seb rolls a napkin into a ball and proceeds to hurl it Sam’s way. Sam pretends he’s been shot as it impacts, groaning and dramatically sliding from his chair onto the floor.

Without moving, Sam hums inquisitively. “What if some creepy old person lives there?” 

“It’s probably vacant, if the overgrown look is any indication.”

“Nah, definitely lived in,” Seb hastily corrects me. Hm. “There’s a garden just up the steps leading there. It’s really nice, actually.” He shoots me a wink and a shit-eating grin, before adding, “Puts your farm to shame.”

I try to rebut by throwing my taiyaki wrapper at him, but it just floats off to the side, about a foot away from me. Damn it. Hearing Seb snorting at my failure, I opt to lightly kick him instead.

Sam’s head pops into view, his eyes and nose cutely making an appearance above the table. “You’ve gone that close?” Seb nods back. “Isn’t that, like, trespassing?”

Shrugging, Seb answers, “They don’t have any signs telling you not to enter their property.”

“Alright, I have a crazy proposition,” I suggest sarcastically. “Why don’t I just… knock and see if someone answers? Ya know, rather than trying to just go in blindly.” 

“If you have a death wish, sure! Go for it!” 

I squint at Sam, who’s still on the ground. “A death wish— bro, it’s probably just some shy farmer or something!”

“Whyyy don’t I scope it out before you and Abby try to?” Seb offers quietly, although it sounds as if he doesn’t even want to. Makes a gal wonder what he saw there, the last time he went. “That way you’re not risking anything.”

“What? No!” I sit there for a moment, contemplating the situation silently to myself. Ugh. “Y’know what, nevermind. I’ll figure something else out.”

_______________

A few days ago, I had told Sam and Seb that I’d avoid the creepy tower in the woods. 

I didn’t promise anything, though! 

I made sure to change clothes before leaving the house. My third outfit of the day, not counting the pajamas I woke up in… doing laundry will be a pain this week. In my defense, I was paranoid that I’d be caught red handed by a nighttime skateboarder or a wandering basement dweller, so I swapped out my white sundress for black leggings, black boots, and a black tee shirt. 

I am one with the night.

…Or, I just look like I’m about to burglarize someone. 

Whatever. 

The former sounds cooler.

As I inch my way through the trees, the sound of crickets and cicadas are deafening, but in a peaceful sorta way. Maybe I’ll camp out here sometime.

The closer I get to my destination, the more… weird I feel. It’s that same uncomfortable pull I felt at the Flower Dance, towards that creepy hooded person.  If I’m recalling correctly, I felt a similar gravitation during my last endeavors in Cindersap. Like something is controlling me, in an effort to lure me in. Bloodbending me towards the tower. Punishing me with a nasty head and stomach ache if I refuse it.

With the structure now in my sight, my stomach is in knots from nerves. Seb’s reluctant offer to go here before me flashes through my mind, giving me second thoughts. He’s only human, but it’s rare he really seems scared about much of anything. What had him so silently irked about this place?

I take a deep breath, and continue my mission anyway. 

The lights are on, meaning whoever is there is probably awake. At least I know I won’t be ruining any sleep with my intrusion. I pick up my pace to a light jog, wanting to get this over with. 

I hope I can convince Abby to come here, should I not, like, die tonight. And if the resident gives me permission. And if Abby wants to, rather than doing it out of a weird obligation, that would be nice too. Unless… What if she uses the time alone to turn against me? I shake the paranoid thoughts from my head as I approach my destination.

The moment I set foot on one of the rugged, wooden steps, I’m hit with a dizzy spell. After regaining my composure, I take another step, this time feeling a pang in my temples. I lean on the dirt wall next to me for a moment. I don’t like this.

With some courage, I move again. This time, nothing bad happens. Interesting…?

Seeing that as the universe’s permission to continue, I jog up the final few stairs. Still in one piece, I breathe out a sigh of relief. I wonder if that was just my nerves… My gut tells me there was a barrier of sorts trying to keep me out, or maybe even entice me in, but that just feels nonsensical.

Looking out to the woods behind me, I’m met with a beautiful view. I can see the fireflies dancing by the river, the tops of the roofs and street lamps in town, and the cozy glow of the Stardrop as Gus and Emily likely begin their preparations for closing. On my right, the Gem Sea sparkles under the light of the full moon, offering a welcomed calmness to my current endeavor.

I turn back around and see the small crop area that Seb had mentioned. He wasn’t kidding — this shit is impressive. There’s a huge melon to the right, surrounded by several smaller ones. If I wasn’t keeping this whole thing a secret, I’d take a picture to send to the boys. Has big “Don’t talk to me or my sons ever again” energy. 

To the left is a beautiful garden of flowers and some more fruits. A mix of variously colored summer spangles and small, plump, vine-grown berries that I’ve never seen. They’re bright blue, bioluminescent underneath the night sky. 

My heart races as I take another few steps forward. Social anxiety aside, I think the encounter I’m about to have would freak anyone out. It’s not everyday that a person decides to spontaneously scope out some stranger’s home, and somewhat late at night, no less.

I swallow the lump in my throat, lift my hand to grasp the cold metal knocker, and—

“Well, it’s about time.”

A short, high-pitched scream escapes me. I shut myself up with a palm to my mouth, as to not attract the attention of anyone who might be nearby. 

“What the—? W-where are you? Who said that?”

A low, decadent chuckle flows through my head. I look around frantically, but not a single soul is in sight.

“I’ve been awaiting your arrival for quite some time, young one. I apologize for startling you, but I must say, it was fun doing so.” I don’t answer, and they sigh jovially. “Please, enter! It’s in my interest to make your acquaintance.”

Oh… they live here? Then why does it sound like they’re inside of my fucking brain what the fuck–

I shudder before twisting open the golden doorknob. Instantly, various scents waft through my nostrils. Cinnamon, pine, something musky and sharp too — maybe lemongrass. There are various shrubs, flowers, and vines lining the walls of the entryway; and multicolored lights shine above them, mostly of varying shades of purple, green, pink, and blue.

Shyly, I move forward, both admiring the well-kept shrubbery and the cozy decor of the room past the next doorway. From what I can see, it’s warmly lit. There are more plants scattered, a fireplace in the back, and bulbous fairy lights strung along the upper walls.

I hear footsteps getting closer, and my nerves rev back up. I pause in my tracks as the mysterious voice reveals their physical form.

Yoba, I thought Sam was large, but this guy has to be at the absolute least a half of a foot taller. 

The man’s purple hair sprinkles into his vision, slightly in the way of burgundy eyes that sparkle with intrigue. A black leather cord containing a small, corked bottle of something adorns his neck, and his pointed elf-like ears are decorated with a set of red dangling earrings. He is wearing a half-tucked, off-white button down, above black dress pants, and fancy black shoes with pointed silver tips to them.

I feel severely underdressed.

As he leans against the doorway and crosses his arms over his chest, I notice several rings amongst his fingers, each with a different colored gem in the center. Go off, Thanos.

He smiles down at me warmly with a single nod, making my heart skip a beat. Why is everyone in this stupid town so gorgeous? I think to myself. He tilts his head curiously, eyes narrowing with a wider grin, as if he’s reading my inner dialogue.

…Holy shit. I wonder if he can, considering how he was communicating with me before.

“I know you.” I whisper with furrowed brows, pushing my previous thoughts aside.

The moment I noticed the colors of his features — reddish-purple irises, gray skin, almost Abby-colored hair, the black beauty mark below his right eye — I realized this man is the same person I saw lurking around behind the Flower Dance.

“Well, not formally of course, but yes. I was sure you would recognize me.” Thank god he’s no longer speaking directly into my head. As lovely as his voice is, that was intense... “I do my best to keep to the shadows, alas, my hiding spots are sometimes subpar.”

Against my better judgment to just stay quiet, I question him. “Why hide?” 

“It would be unwise to bring fear to the townspeople. Only some know of me, but they fear the unknown presence I carry. Then again, it is possible I simply stick out too much for their liking...” He mumbles the last sentence as he observes the dust-colored skin of his hands. 

“Worry not, as it is something I’ve grown accustomed to over the years. Now, onto the matter at hand,” he announces, “I am Magnus Rasmodius. Seeker of the arcane truths. Mediary between physical and ethereal. Master of the seven elementals. Keeper of the—“

Magnus looks at my face and catches me biting back a giggle. I never expected this guy to be so adorably dorky. He blushes, his eyes fading from their natural (???) maroon into a light pink to match his cheeks. Oh my god, that was so sick?! “Er… you get it.”

“Sorry,” I snort, breaking.

His features revert back to their previous shades as he grins and shakes his head, silently accepting the apology. “Come, have a seat. There’s much to discuss.”

#sebastian x reader #sebastian #sdv sebastian #sdv #sdv rasmodius #sve magnus #magnus rasmodius x reader #stardew valley rasmodius #sdv sebastian x reader #stardew sebastian #sebastian stardew #sebastian headcanons #stardew valley #stardew #sve #sebsatian sdv #sdv wizard #stardew wizard #magnus rasmodius #stardew valley fanfic #stardew valley sebastian x reader #wizard x reader #rasmodius x reader #FAWY

[projectbluearcadia]

Wait, You Like Cuddles Too?

Mammon: Hey, Annie, what’d you say to Lucifer anyway?

Annelie: I didn’t say anything to him, Mammary. 

Mammon: Stop callin’ me that. But’cha obviously said somethin’ to him because he’s not actin’ like he normally does ‘round ya. 

Annelie: I don’t know what you’re talking about.

Asmo: They’re obviously avoiding each other~

Annelie: I’m not avoiding him. He’s avoiding me. 

Asmo: Then why’d you jump into my room when he walked past, hm~?

Annelie: Because you had my nail polish. 

Satan: Which you said he could have. 

Annelie: ...why are you picking on me?

Satan glances up from the book he’s reading.

Satan: Because Lucifer likes you.

Annelie: That’s a terrible reason. 

Satan: I think it’s perfectly valid. 

Annelie: Whatever you say, Mom.

Mammon and Asmo laugh while Satan glares at Annelie as she stands up.

Annelie: I’m taking an early night, so try not to throw a party. 

Satan: Night. 

Mammon: Hah. Lame. 

Asmo: Sweet dreams, cutie pie~

Annelie makes her way to her room, and her hand is on the door when her D.D.D. suddenly rings. She stares at the screen for several moments before she answers. 

Annelie: What’s up? I’m about to go to bed. 

No, resist the urge to mock. Resist. It might actually be important. 

Lucifer: That’s convenient. 

Annelie: Was that sarcasm?

Lucifer: I’ll be back in about 10 minutes; I want you in my room before I get back. 

Annelie: Why? Lucif—that little shit hung up on me. 

Annelie hesitates in front of her door for several moments before before she starts walking in the direction of the stairs. 

Well, he’s talking again, so I’ll indulge him a little and be obedient. 

She enters Lucifer’s room and smiles. She plops onto his bed and stretches, cracking her back. 

It’s funny how comforting this room is. It’d be nice to take a little siesta on his bed again, but he’ll probably make me get up before I have the chance to get to sleep... 

Annelie makes herself at home regardless. 

Eh. He never said anything saying I couldn’t. 

She relaxes and deeply inhales, curling up with one of Lucifer’s pillows as she dozes into the beginning stages of sleep. As expected however, Lucifer opens the door before she can fall unconscious. 

Lucifer: Now why do I feel a sense of deja vu?

Annelie: Mm... Haven’t the foggiest. What did you want me for? I’m drowsy. 

Lucifer: So am I. 

Lucifer takes off his coat, loosens his tie and sits on the bed.

Annelie: Is that supposed to answer my question?

Lucifer: ...I thought I should apologize for my childish behavior. 

Annelie: You? Apologize?

Lucifer: Yes. I thought you’d enjoy sleeping here. You can even assure yourself that I won’t leave in the middle of the night to work. 

Leave in the middle of the night... assure myself... sleeping here... wait. No way. 

Annelie: ...you want to sleep together? And you don’t care that I’ll grab you in my sleep? 

Lucifer: Yes. 

Annelie: I’ve broken him. Diavolo, I’ve broken him. 

Lucifer: Don’t be so dramatic.

Lucifer eventually relaxes onto his back, and Annelie rolls onto her side to look at him. 

Lucifer: What?

Annelie: Is that even comfortable?

Lucifer: Yes. 

Annelie: Don’t you get hot?

Lucifer glances at her. 

Lucifer: I’m not feeling apologetic enough to take my clothes off for you. 

Annelie: Don’t flatter yourself; Beel’s ripped abs tempt me a lot more. 

Lucifer: Oh really?

Annelie: Really. 

Lucifer suddenly steals Annelie’s pillow and wraps his arms around her. 

Annelie: Wow, Luci’s all over me. 

Lucifer: Don’t call me that. 

Annelie: I never would have guessed you were a cuddle bear.

Lucifer: So what if I am?

Annelie: Dunno. Kind of makes me happy. 

Lucifer: Happy?

Annelie: Something we have in common I guess.

Lucifer: Hmph. Do you think that excuses you for trying to make me jealous?

Annelie: Was I trying to make you jealous?

Lucifer: I know what your type is; don’t think you can lie to me. 

Annelie: You’re right; my type is Diavolo. 

Lucifer: If you want me to punish you, there are more straightforward ways to ask. 

Lucifer lets his fingers stray down her back. 

Annelie: Lucifer, move your hand back up, you little shit. 

Lucifer: And what if I said no?

Annelie: Then I’d say you’re a perverted old ma—

Annelie yelps as Lucifer squeezes her buttocks. 

Annelie: Leave my ass alone!

Lucifer: Then stop trying to irritate me and go to sleep. 

Annelie: Maybe I should leave if you’re going to be an immature brat. 

Although I don’t really want to when I was just getting comfortable...

Lucifer: I don’t think so. 

Lucifer squeezes her closer. 

Annelie: Ugh... don’t take the stuffing out of your teddy bear. 

He chuckles. 

Lucifer: Should I start calling you that? Teddy bear?

Annelie makes a face. 

Annelie: ...please just call me Annelie. You don’t have to giggle like that; it’s not that funny. 

Lucifer: Of course it isn’t. 

Lucifer continues laughing regardless as they eventually fall asleep together. 

#obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me shall we date #fanfiction #shameless #self indulgence #cuddle monster #apology #LuciAnne

[the-one-with-the-nails]

chris/justin, motionless in white, t, 800 words

"… leaping into the other’s arms" from the semi-NSFW meme. My first Motionless in White fic 🤘 Thanks for the prompt, anon! :) You can find this one on AO3 too.

The cool thing about going from openly-affectionate-bros to boyfriends is that basically nobody bats an eyelash when the openly affectionate shit keeps going. (Well, that’s not totally true. Ryan gets this sly look behind his vape sometimes, like the facial manifestation of tutting ‘heh, gay.’ Like he wasn’t egging them to hook up from the day Justin got Motionless minted for real. Justin just flips him off, it’s all good.)

When Chris comes loping down the otherwise abandoned terminal like a rescue greyhound chasing some fresh frisbee, Justin just braces his knees and throws out his arms to catch him. Chris is kinda obsessed with being picked up, which Justin totally gets. Once you hit the five foot mark as a dude, it’s kinda game over in the uppies department – unless you find someone bigger than you. And before Justin, Chris was usually the biggest motherfucker in the room.

It’s total hell on Justin’s back… but it does great things for his self-esteem, being able to catch Chris and hike him up on his hips for a wobbly ride down the dank, carpeted corridor. Chris is bare faced like he usually is during downtime, so Justin can see splotches patches of pink high on his cheek bones. Even better, when Chris breathes “hey,” it’s in that low, happy rasp that usually precedes a kiss.

Justin’s hard in his joggers.

“Hey, hot mama,” Justin jokes, still toddling along with Chris’s arms snaked around his neck and his warm, heavy, be’sweatered body draped along Justin’s front. He grins. “Ya miss me that much?”

Chris’s eyes go heavy-lidded. “What do you think, asshole?” he asks, and then they’re kissing. With tongue. Like, kind of way more tongue than should be legal in an airport, even if it’s a fuckin’ ghost town at this hour. Justin groans a little, moves a hand to Chris’s butt for a possessive squeeze.

“Where the fuck is the baggage claim?” Ricky grumbles somewhere to their left. Justin stops sucking Chris’s tongue and sneaks a glance at the guys to make sure that, yeah, they’re all just moseying like normal.

“Downstairs,” Vinny says without looking up from his phone. “Hey, do we have, like, a van waiting, or did you Uber here alone?” he asks Chris.

“Van,” Chris confirms, contentedly tucking his face into Justin’s neck. Which basically melts his heart into bubbly goo. One less solid thing for his spine to have to support, he guesses. “They’re circling outside until we get out there.”

“Cool.”

“I know I’m too heavy, I’m just being a greedy bitch,” Chris says lowly. Ryan and maybe Ricky can probably hear him too – everything echoes a little in this utility carpet purgatory – but nobody says anything. (“You’re not heavy,” Justin lies immediately.) Chris butts his beaky nose against the hinge of Justin’s jaw. “I missed being in your arms.”

“My arms missed you being there,” Justin says conversationally. It’s still so fucking weird, doing the cutesy couple talk shit and it’s legit instead of brohomo. His boots clunk extra heavy on the floor because he’s kinda stomping to make room for the big booty koala in his embrace, but like. He’s a corn-fed American, it’s his god given right to be loud for no reason. “I missed you being there.”

“What else do your arms feel about me?” Chris asks, and okay, that’s a silly thing to say, obviously meant to make Justin laugh, but like. Justin’s arms actually have a lot to say on the subject of Chris. How if they could get away with it, they’d never let him go. They’d keep Chris tucked against him even on stage, Justin’s bass slung over Chris’s backside so he could keep playing while Chris yowled into a mic right by his ear. (Justin likes when Chris yowls right by his ear. Hopefully he will be doing it in a hotel bed in the next hour.)

But, uh, the whole stage cuddles idea might actually be too openly affectionate, actually. Codependent. Clingy.

Chris must sense his line of thought, because he breathes a warm laugh against Justin’s neck. Chris wiggles to drop his long legs down and force Justin to let him walk on his own before they get tangled and fall over. Not that Justin’s dick would mind rolling around on the floor together.

“Someone else missed me too,” Chris points out as he loiters all hot and lanky and fat assed against Justin’s front. Jeeesus Christ, this guy.

“Of course I missed you, buddy,” Vinny deadpans without missing a beat, and Chris laughs all the way to baggage claim. Justin’s right on his heels like he’s the rescue dog now, no frisbee necessary to keep his attention.

He has no reason to hoist Chris up while they wait for their bags to come around the conveyor, but nobody but Justin’s back has shit to say.

#my fic #motionless in white fic #justin morrrow x chris motionless #miw fic #motionless in white rpf #miw rpf

[animunerdery]

Hi guys, thanks for liking my half-assed one piece scribbles!

While I don't reblog on this tumblr (to keep it streamlined), I do follow a TON of insane artists like all of these sick one piece blogs for your viewing pleasure:

@ahou-dori prob the best doffy blog out there. incredible drawings.

@ceceru you all know her highschool AU stuff. everything she does is so full of life

@pepegle omg I love this person’s drawings so much. beautiful, simplified, just insanely good.

@avenoirn jesus christ these are so freaking good. Dem paints, dem lighting hnngg

@fangirl-of-the-end all the trafalgar lawsss. Come quench your thirst!

@8thousand another insanely good person who also reblogs other insanely good stuff.

@toboldlymuppet so intense and so goooood, fantastic shapes and those pops of color are chef’s kissss

@sameconcarne holy shit yessss what are these insane drawsssssssss.

@thebaratie great art and great art recs with the reblogssss

@mygiorni fantastic super clean super good, super cute

@peqchesssss so cute so good so sweet T_T

@cranity hell yessss so stylish and with so much attitude lets gooooo!

@bugslap oh hell yes let’s push them ink drawsssss

@humans-are-tasty hell yesss doffadile contenttttt

@dailyrebranded omg soo cuuuute diabetes inducing goodnessss

@wellfine you know this person’s comics. Gives sanji so much more depthhhhh

@deadbutnostink yes good hot boys thirst content

@sunclown yes good more thirst content for your eyeballsss

@teazingsassy yes more good drawsss

@abdocado god i love these draws so much T_T

@i-bez-togo-toshno fantastic let’s freaking go

@waybomb love these cute draws

@l208p very good very cute, very accurate modern luffy head canon 

@lorillee mostly walls of text but they occasionally also draw stuff and everything they write/draw is GOLD

@a-tsute sick draws let’s goooo. also not as much OP recently but still insanely good anyway!

@feriowind currently doing more Our Flag Means Death but holy shit LOOK AT THEM DRAWS SO GOOOOOD

@zoeychuanart plz check out my girl Zoey’s stufffff. She hasn’t updated in a while but she has the best Sanji and Nami content T_T

@kankalin really cute general stuff

I don’t know how many of these still update but they’re all great:

@doodlepiece :  everything about this dude’s drawings are beautiful, charming and engaging. i love pretty much everything about this person. I love his sanji comic, i love the simplicity of his design and shape. i love the tangibility of his textures. This guy was my all time favorite one piece blog for the longest time T_T

@nobodyanybody0 : obviously amazing minimal shapes, adorable expressions, and one hell of a painter. There is so much to learn from this person! s/he is a blessing to OP fandom.

@wanssan (aka @yongi ) : they kinda abandoned the OP blog, but it’s still awesome. s/he claims that his/her drawings are wonky, but they are far from. simply delicious line quality.

@monstertrio : super cute babies! everything she draws is amazingly cute. those lines are super expressive and the color game is on point.

@luffydraws : omg… whoever the hell this is is a genius. TOTALLY NAILS IT EVERY TIME.

@asknicorobean : I love her style so much, so loose and so warm.

and more good ones: 

@nupp : korean blog. mainly zosan.

@laskapsy : russian blog? mainly dofadile. 

@dumatree : korean blog. mainly ASL. 

@zfedraws : bunch of nice drawings all around, there’s something vaguely 90s manga about her work which is awesome.

@pitiablelaw : mainly trafalguy.

@onepancake : so many cute cartoony drawings! lots of cool western-ish redesigns.

@opdoodless : cool redesigns in a more western style!

@yaboybokuto : look for her art tags, she’s also got a warm cartoony style.

@eyerispez : i love how this person tries experimenting with different looks.

@clover-ya : the great thing about OP is the diversity of the fanbase, this one also has a super expressive western aesthetic. 

@itsamemarshallbanana : completely ridiculous one piece snapchat artist. is probably a genius. Or is an idiot. Maybe both???

There are SO many amazing artists who love one piece (even if their blogs aren’t primarily OP side blogs) which I haven’t listed here but just suffice it to say they are everywhere. for example… @thisismollym MOLLY FUCKING MENDOZA LIKES ONE PIECE Y’ALL

#blogroll #one piece blogroll #nami #one piece #please check out all of these incredible artists #they are all amazing #fanart blogroll