#I’m just really pleased I Fixed Something

[s-4pphics]

a friend in need! (e.w.)

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SYNOPSIS: heartbreak aid during the apocalypse, you ask? 

WORD COUNT: 5k

WARNINGS: bff!ellie who’s sad, kinda perv oc who’s eager to fix that, remixed version of seattle!ellie, dina catching strays for no reason (i love her pls), wound care but erotic, SMUT AGELESS BLOGS/MINORS DNI, dubcon (nasty green), porn watching, mutual/guided masturbation, brief poochie eating, oc in denial ab her little crush, real girlhood <3, slight angst :(

A/N: the bubblegum apocalypse where no one dies or lies. #SCISSORING

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The gates of Jackson open, and relief rushes through your chest. 

Everyone is accounted for. Ellie’s accounted for. 

Weeks—or however the fuck long— of pent-up anxiety finally settles in your limbs as you sprint towards Shimmer while Jesse tends to Dina, greeting the hazel mount with coos and rustles through her fur. Baby needs a bath and a good brushing. 

Your eyes swiftly shift from her to your best friend, “Ellie, I’m so glad— “

“Can you help me down, please?” 

Creases bunch in your forehead at the strain in her tone. And then you’re met with the blood-soaked wrap that's enclosed around her jean-covered thigh. 

“Oh, shit… c’mere.” 

Ellie’s good leg swings over the saddle, and you hold her waist to ease her down into the muddy grass. Joel’s the first one to engulf her. They exchange words that you don’t catch before his reluctant arms drop to guide Shimmer back to the stocks, leaving you two alone. You can’t stop yourself from throwing your arms around her neck next, mindful of her leg. 

“I didn’t know what to think when y’all didn’t come back,” you whisper. 

When the two girls first made their departure to Seattle, the icy remains of winter had just begun to melt into the dirt beneath it, and that alone felt like ages ago. There’s mosquitoes and moths everywhere now, following wherever the sun beams. 

A strong arm wraps around your waist, and you instantly stiffen and detach from her, hands resting on her shoulders. 

Her gaze drops to the ground when you whisper, “What happened, Ellie? You okay?”

She breathes. “Peachy.” 

Your hands drop when she turns in the direction of her home, head jerking when she says, “I’m gonna shower.” 

“Dinners supposed to be really good tonight!” You exclaim with a broken smile when she takes her first hobble, “Eat with me? Consider it a celebration that you made it home safe.” 

Ellie seems to soften at your invitation, head bobbing in approval, and you smile. 

She holds her fist out to you, “See you in 20?” 

You bump your knuckles against hers with strained cheeks, “See you in 20.” 

One small, comforting smile from her, and she’s off, limping back home. 

“What’s up with them?” 

You flinch at the too close whisper from Jesse, and you shrug. “Maybe they broke up.” 

“Doubt it,” He snorts, “Dina told me it was brutal on the way back. The bastards were everywhere, she said. They’re probably still shook up.” 

“Damn… How’s she doing?” 

“Weird as hell. I think she’s sick or something,” Concern is melting off him, “She’s getting checked out now.”

“I’ll check on her later,” You face him, “Coming to dinner?” 

“Probably not. Gotta make sure Dee’s good.” He’s already walking off, trailing after his friend…? Ex? You never know what to call them. 

“See ya.” You wave awkwardly. 

Weird. 

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How do you cheer up a friend that just witnessed three dozen infected tear another small community to shreds? At least, according to Jesse. He was able to get more out of Ellie and Dina than you were, apparently. 

You don’t know how Ellie — or anyone — could experience such barbarous scenes as frequently as they do. You’ve been on patrol twice since you stumbled upon Jackson a few years back, and each venture leaves you less and less eager to see the world beyond its walls. You respect their bravery, not only for being able to dive head first into unknown territory with nothing but bullets and faith, but to also face those walking demons at every corner. 

Your closest friend is often excited to show you scavenged artifacts that she has collected, but… she’s barely spoken to you since you helped her off Shimmer. 

Her silence is uncommon, and therefore, frightening. 

“It’s been a while since we’ve had fish,” you scoff weakly, poking your carrots with your fork, “It’s good, huh?” 

Her focus shifts from the tablecloth to you. 

Silence. 

You drop your utensil, “Fuck, Ellie… dude, what happened out there? Jesse told me… that y'all got caught up— “

“Dina’s pregnant.” 

He didn’t tell you that.

Ellie’s whisper breezes past your ears so fast that you barely catch it. The canteen continues to bustle with hungry, ravaged patrons who returned from their second round of patrol. You assumed Ellie was one of them after her scattered return, but she hasn’t touched anything on her plate. Not even her carrots. Her favorite; A literal goddamn rabbit. 

No wonder she hasn’t eaten… Who could’ve with news like that? Especially considering the high she was riding before the couple left. 

“What.” 

Ellie’s head shakes with gall, and a disappointed grin plumps her cheeks. 

“Yup… Can’t wait to tell Maria.” 

Sharing the news of a new Jackson kiddo sounds like the last thing on her mind. Days before the two took off, she was squealing like a wild hyena in the wee hours of the night, gushing to you about the midnight explorations with her long-term crush. Her retellings of their first night together were vivid: filled with pent up tension and need and unfiltered lust. According to Ellie, they could’ve gotten married in a fortnight with the relationship they’d built over the years, and you believed her. Sadly. 

You were present, observant, during your teenage years. You were there when Cat kissed Ellie, when they broke up, when Ellie had recurring nightmares about Riley and was desperate for comfort from you, when Ellie fell for Dina… 

And now they’re in a pickle. A fat one. 

Hearing about Ellie’s relationship never went how you’d assume. You expected to be happy for your friend whenever she enthused about a topic that brought about such elation, but there was always something about the stories that gave you pause. Something that burned in the pit of your stomach and caused you to, frankly, fake congratulations. You’re unsure why, but hearing about Dina and Ellie’s relationship potentially being tarnished is calming that simmer inside you.

“Just when I thought…” She scoffs quietly. “Whatever. Fuck it.” 

You can’t resist and slip, “… Who’s the daddy?” And she hisses.

“Guess.” 

But you don’t have to... Fuck. 

Dina and Jesse’s relationship was… something. In adolescence, Ellie was either secretly celebrating their multitude of separations or crying to you about them getting back together. Their consistent streak of being on and off clearly got the best of them. There’s a ball of cells growing inside of your friend’s almost-girlfriend. 

“Shit… maybe it was… a misunderstanding? Doesn’t it take a couple weeks to… form in the womb or whatever?” 

You’re not the devil's advocate. Your lips clamp at Ellie’s stern glare.

“There’s no misunderstanding.” 

Your shoulders slump at the distance in her eyes. The indifference she’s exuding can’t disguise the hurt that she’s experiencing internally. Your heart aches for her, despite the excited jitters in your fingers.

“… Sorry, man.” 

“I don’t care.” 

Good, you impulsively want to say. You shove it down into the hardwood beneath your soles. Your brows furrow in annoyance, more so at yourself for not being remorseful. “Fuck off. Yes, you do, and that’s okay. It’s normal.” 

“Can we go?” 

Her request is sudden and cracked, and every inkling of pride deflates in your chest. Poor thing; How could you feel like this when she’s this scattered? Guilt replaces whatever dark fantasy you’ve conjured up in the past five minutes. 

You move to stand without objection. Fuck the carrots, “Yeah. Let’s roll— “

An instant lightbulb above your head… and it’s glowing green. Roll.

Roll!

Mischief shines in your chest and eyes when you glance around the packed space in search for, 

“TOMMY!” 

A flash of brown hair turns to meet your sprinting form. The peach he’s holding looks devine. 

“You seen ‘Gene anywhere?” 

Your grin widens at his disapproving stare.

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“Be careful with those, shit-for-brain! I’m not coming to save your ass like last time!” 

“Got it, boss!” You squeak with a polite smile, shoving the small baggie of rolled joints into your stuffed satchel. It vanishes the second Eugene slams his vault to his dirty ass man cave, “Fucking dicksucker.” You huff.

Ellie snickers from beside you. “C’mon. Be nice.” 

“No. He skimped on me last time. Toke hog.” 

The walk to your place is colder than usual, but it’s beautiful out. The moon shines from behind the dark clouds, illuminating the ivory that shields the incoming spring grass. Gorgeously cinematic; A scenery that gets the heart thumping. Aching. Yearning. 

You lead Ellie onto your porch and into your home. She removes her jacket and kicks off her boots, throwing her armor over the designated rack. Your satchel goes flying across the room until it clatters on your bed. Black tapes spill all over the mattress, and Ellie scolds you disapprovingly. 

“Again? Really?”

You smirk. Eugene’s always too blasted to punish your kleptocracy, “No one has a better porn collection than ‘Ge— “

Her jaw slacks, “Porn?! What the fuck, I thought those were the Jurassic Park— “

“They’re not…” Before pondering, “Although that’d be some crazy role play. RAAAWR— “

“You’re the fucking worst.” 

“C’mon! Look at these titles,” You skip to your bedside to snag a couple tapes, “Smoochie the Coochie… Banging my hot neighbor…” 

A boisterous laugh passes your lips, “Throbbin’ Hood: Prince of Beaves! Tell me that’s not fucking hilarious!” 

Ellie doesn’t laugh. Hasn’t laughed. Just simmers by the front door with red dusting her cheeks. How adorable! 

“Why’re you looking like that?” 

When her eyes travel over the creases between your brows and confused smile, your feet give an awkward stutter. This wasn’t the reaction you were expecting. At the very least, she should’ve cracked a smile by now. Even an insecure one. 

You peer down at the tapes in your hand and back up at her. Her posture shifted: arms wrapped protectively around her waist while she leaned on the balls of her feet, eyes inspecting the dim lights of your space. 

Another lightbulb. Not a green one. 

“Have you ever watched porn?” 

She shrugs with floundering shoulders. You chuckle. 

“It’s just for shits and giggles, Ellie. Don’t be so serious. The acting sucks and you needa good laugh.” 

You cradle the filled baggie like it holds a sacred orb and waltz towards the VCR. Your screen shifts from bright blue to the tape’s introduction screen. Naked men in speedos… Ellie plops down on the couch behind and mindlessly flicks a lighter. You reach into the baggie and toss her the fattest joint available before working the remote. 

A sigh releases… then another flicker… then a long, drawled out exhale. You grin. 

You, remote in hand, plop down next to her, “Is it good?”

“Better than last time, for sure.” You trade the remote for the joint, arm wrapped around your angled legs as you pull. Hits smooth… er. It still dries your throat. 

“Remind me to thank him.” 

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Two joints down. Two tapes completed. Three wide smiles from Ellie from the bad acting. The night’s a win in your book. 

She lazily lights another joint while you switch out the tapes. You purposely saved the best for last: apparently the only lesbian porno in that bastard’s whole cave. When’s the last time you’ve smoochied a coochie?

More importantly, when’s the last time Ellie has? Recently, you assume; She and Dina were too close to only be going on long walks in the woods. The more you smoke, the more your mind wanders where it shouldn’t. 

… Your friend is a lover. Always has been, despite her efforts of convincing you, herself — everyone — that she’s emotionally indifferent. Craves affection, both verbal and physical, like she’s deprived. She raves to you about her desires on a weekly basis, for fucks sake! Someone hug the poor girl! 

“Feeling better?” You squeak when you plant on the cushion. Ellie nods with a soft grin. 

“Thank you.” 

Your hands clap together and her body shakes from the recoil. “The night’s not over yet! I got a surprise for you! Happy Birthday!” 

“It’s not my birthday… I don’t know my birthday— “

Your smile is laced with grating sarcasm, “Wow, you really know how to kill the vibe! Just play along, goddamn!” 

You sigh when her expression flattens. 

“Ellie…”

“Yes?” 

Oh… That crackly tone did a little something. Cheering Clitorous. Alright. Okay. 

“I found a little something in ‘Gene’s special drawer— “

“Aren’t all his drawers special.” 

“Aren’t you supposed to be shutting the fuck up.” 

Her red eyes widen, but she silences. 

“You know what feels really nice after a bad breakup?” 

Her middle finger digs into her dry eye, “Getting high and watching porn with the only other lesbian you know?” 

“Even better,” Your hand claps down on her jean-clad, uninjured thigh. “Getting high and watching lesbian porn with the only other lesbian you know… while getting head. A true fixer-upper.”

More silence, and your tummy gives a nervous tumble. Eugene’s bud gives you enough courage to make eye contact, and, given any other circumstance, you would’ve hollered laughter at how stunned Ellie looks, eyes nearly stretched beyond her lids, but you don’t. You press on when she denies you. 

“You’re lying.” 

“Am I?” Your thumb presses the large button in the middle and the screen displays two, three — six women… all sprawled out on white carpet while lewdness shines through their eyes… And not at all the romantic wives fingering each other next to the fireplace like you envisioned. Plus, the music sucks. Who the fuck plays the accordion while bumping cooters?

Your eyes circle around and… Oh, wow. A lot less tame than you were expecting… Are those chains and a paddle? 

What the fuck, Eugene. 

“Oh, shit.” 

Ellie’s either impressed or about to go on a judgmental rampage. You gauge her expression curiously. Her lashes keep fluttering like butterfly wings. You nearly coo audibly. She always does that when she’s excited! What a cutie! 

Ellie recites the description at the bottom of the screen, “When six girls go off into the woods for an early 4th of July getaway, conversations take a lustful… and explorative turn. Find out what happens during one late, hot evening after a game of… kiss and blow?” 

You snort, “Are you asking me?” 

“Well, yeah… The fuck is kiss and blow?” 

You shrug, “Find out.”

One click of the remote, and the footage begins… More giggles from Ellie, and something flutters in your chest. You’ll have to watch bad acting with her more often. 

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Six minutes into Smoochie the Coochie, and you still don’t know what kiss and blow is. And you don’t care to find out. 

High pitched moans and pleasured squeals that almost sound phony rings in your hazy skull as you stare up at your best friend from between her covered legs. 

This is the quietest she’s been all night: her eyes are locked on the screen behind you, completely entranced with flushed cheeks by what you assume is the sweatiest, raunchiest… scissoring, is what it’s called? On the screen. Maybe. You’re wired and can’t think straight and Ellie’s hot. 

“Are we really doing this right now?” 

She whispers when you caress her thigh over her pants, and you nod approvingly. Desperately, but she can’t tell. “Up to you.” 

You don’t expect a cold hand to come up and tenderly brush against your cheek. You shudder and nuzzle into it. Sober you would be so embarrassed at how you’re reacting to her affections. You’ve never been the needy one. 

“Can we…” 

You pout and burn with embarrassment, but start to pull back, “Stop?” 

“No, no…” Her eyes meet yours and your body locks. A bit nervous. “I dunno…” 

“Tell me.” 

“Later.” She whispers. 

You stare skeptically as she plays with your earlobe. “I promise I’m good. I want this. I’ll tell you later.” 

A pause before you sigh. “Okay. Up.” You pat her thigh and her hips rise. Her unbuttoned jeans are peeled down her legs, gently over her fresh bandage, and tossed beside you. Your body is miles ahead of your brain; before you realize, your lips smack all over her bruised thighs, peppering over the freshly bandaged scars and faded ones. She squirms where she sits, shaky breaths puffing from her lips. 

Your mouth travels higher, and an encouraging hand lands on the back of your head, massaging your scalp. 

“Tell me what’s happening.” You mumble against her, a blind finger pointing back at the screen. 

“I don’t — So much shit is going on. Like… from all directions.”  

You smile against her thigh, “Someone catch your attention?” 

“I…” 

But no explanation is needed. There’s treads of weakness in her growl. Go figure. 

“Lemme guess… She look like her?” 

If she catches the unwarranted agitation in your tone, she doesn’t mention it. Simply digs her nails into the back of your head. No forceful tugs at your hair, but a warning, and your teeth beam. 

“I dunno what the fuck you’re smiling for, but it’s gonna piss me off soon.”

There's a smidge of threat in her voice, so your kisses travel up. A pleasant distraction, given every small twitch of her legs. 

Not too long before you reach the hem of her underwear, and you trap it between your teeth before releasing it. Her tummy jolts when the fabric hits her skin, and you go heart-eyed. 

“Tell me who you’re looking at.” 

“T-The one that brought all that crazy shit to the party.” 

Of course. Handcuffs, she means. The large, wooden paddle, she means. A slow drag of your tongue advances up her v-line and her body wracks against her will. 

“Crazy in a bad way?” You purr against softness, and she exhales a laugh. “Not in this context, I guess.” 

“You like that kinda stuff?” 

“How the fuck would I know?” 

You snort before your eyes fall, trapped by the small patch of wetness that sticks to her panties. Glues the outline of her lips to the fabric. You’re seconds — inches away from going feral. 

Whatever patience you entered with has withered: and with determined hands, Ellie’s underwear gets yanked, pried down her legs and tossed behind you. Your eyes glisten with excitement when they meet the red pearl that twitches in anticipation, walls that leak when the warmth of your breath brushes over the cup of her. 

Her pussy’s perfect. A stunner, for sure. You and Cat were never close, but you’d hit her up to get Ellie tatted. Not even in a discreet place. It’d be somewhere where everyone — Dina — can see. On your forehead, for fucks sake—

S-Stop staring at me. 

It seemed like the moans behind you became louder. You nearly shove three fingers in Ellie’s mouth as punishment for interrupting the moment, but you choke on a breath. Mumble a slur of you’re cute, can’t help it in an attempt to ease her. 

And just when your tongue unravels over your bottom lip, right when Ellie’s taste is millimeters away, right when her breath hitches and her mouth drops open, the loudest crack, very reminiscent of bullets, rings across your small living room. Scares her, scares you enough to steal the attention from the art between her thighs. 

The sight on the screen is new, even for you. 

It’s not every day you see girls being slung across muscly laps and swatted on the ass with wooden tools with their hands bound behind them while they cry and sob and beg for their masters to hit them harder. You probably would’ve laughed at the theatrics if Ellie wasn’t here, as if you weren't about to go to town on her ten seconds ago. Both your breaths shudder and tremble as raunchy sounds of lips smacking and girls touching themselves and fingering each other split your ears in half. 

Your vision tunnels and shifts when a whimper from Ellie rattles through your chest and down your ribcage. She gasps like you’ve caught her doing something bad, but she doesn’t stop whatever she’s doing. Just blushes madly with her hand shoved between her squeezed legs while her eyes flicker between you and the screen. 

Time seems to whir and the room spins. The pace of your breath increases, slobbery wheezes syncing with Ellie’s when her legs cross over one another. 

Your muscles move you closer, hands planted on either side of her waist, back enlengthening until your eyes are level with hers. Her tongue barely dips to wet her bottom lip, eyes swiftly flickering down to your mouth.

A hand raises right when another crack of a paddle against skin ripples through your speakers, and before Ellie can flinch, your palm caresses her cheek, thumb exploring the divets in her face. Over the healed wounds and fiery specks that hypnotize. You don’t expect her to nuzzle into your touch… 

And you definitely don’t expect her arm to start moving, despite its enclosing. 

Her eyelids bat, and green pierces through your chest. Over your neck, your face, your shoulders as her bicep twitches. When her lips part around a gasp, you choke. 

Lemme see. 

Ellie curses under her breath, kisses your palm, and undoes the twining of her legs. Her fingers are gentle where they rest over her pussy, the bones in her hand flexing as her palm digs into her clit, folds smushed around the muscles of her thumb. 

That’s how you do it?

Her teeth sink into her bottom lip, masking a smile as her head shakes. Your heart pinches. 

Show me how. 

Her head falls to the side as her cheeks sizzle. 

You first. 

You shudder, and your brain scolds. This wasn’t the plan. You were supposed to smoke, watch porn, eat pussy, and escort her home safely. 

Not the fucking plan.

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Ellie insisted that you restart Smoochie the Coochie before you undress. For ambiance, she’d said when you stood on two feet, watching as she removed her hoodie. For me? She’d whispered against your cheek, in only a tank top, when you finally positioned yourself on the cushion in front of her. Face to face, pussies almost touching, your knees to the ceiling. 

The volume of the footage has been turned down, but the acting… it’s fucking hilarious. You shouldn’t be smiling. You shouldn’t be giggling, but you are. 

Ellie moves loose strands of hair behind her ear, grin matching yours. 

“Hm?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Hm.”

Ellie, much to your shock, makes the first move. Again. 

Takes your wrist in her hand, brings your limp one up to her mouth to pepper kisses on your knuckles before pressing in between your open thighs. Your fingers are clumsy and your heart pounds against your ribcage, thighs jerking at the sticky contact of your own juices. Ellie's eyes between your legs like a hawk, leant comfortably against the pillows stacked behind her. 

Her attention encourages you. You balance on the hand that rests on the couch, grinning playfully around the fingers that sink into your mouth and glide on your tongue. Ellie shakes her head with a small smile before reaching for the lighter and last joint. Sticks the end of it between her lips, flicks the lighter twice, and ignites it. 

Every slow exhale of smoke gets rewarded with presses on your clit, your index and middle fingers tickling the sensitive area with learned precision. It pulsates under your fingertips whenever you lock eyes; her eyes are fervent with need, uncontrollably so, and it sends vibrations through your spine. 

Slower, Ellie whispers wetly when your touch becomes rushed. Too eager for her liking. She’s always hated when you rush things. Loathes your impatience. 

The moans from the film pick up again: shaky and cracked and high. They match yours when you apply just enough pressure on the spot right above your clit. Your walls constrict and slick gushes from, and Ellie curses.

When your fingers explore elsewhere, she sits up suddenly, her breath hitting your mouth when she mutters, Keep touching right there, with a tight hand around your wrist, trying to guide you back to the spot that makes your thighs quake.

I’m gonna cum if I do. There’s warning in your gasp.

Ellie puffs again before huffing a smoky breath, the scent infiltrating your senses. Your fingers almost sink inside, Wasn’t that the plan? 

Cum w-with me? 

Your voice is pleading, tone almost identical to when you would incessantly pester and follow Ellie around Jackson when you were younger. 

Ellie, watch a movie with me? 

Ellie, do a puzzle with me? 

Ellie, go on a walk with me?

Ellie! Ellie! Ellie! 

What used to be innocent invitations have swiftly shifted into something darker, and Ellie needs more. A shocked squeak leaves you when her free hand curls around the back of your neck to smash your lips together. Your hazy mind hadn’t registered Ellie’s fiery stares at your bruised lips, her head tilting in the opposite direction of yours, her nose brushing against yours whenever your fingers made a gooey noise. 

Your eyes flutter shut when her tongue sloppily glides over your bottom lip, moans quenchless where they hit Ellie’s tongue. She swallows them down until they jolt in her stomach, and shoves her hand between her thighs once more. 

Her fingers are drenched and so are yours; there’s nasty, slicked noises everywhere. From you, from Ellie, from the television that’s been forgotten by both of you. 

Ellie’s movements become desperate in a matter of seconds, no longer able to keep up the pace of your kiss. Your separated lips connect only by a thin line of saliva as Ellie gasps hit the skin of your cheek. 

Can’t wait to feel you on me. 

Your euphoria begs to peak at Ellie’s promise, your fingers massaging all the spots that send you to the stars at a desperate pace, trying to match Ellie’s. 

Cum with me, she growls like you did, Cum with me, cum with me, fuck —

Your friend’s name is a prayer on your tongue, shrouded in lust and a longing you’ve forced down to non-existence. You both succumb to pleasure in unison, the pulsing between your thighs synched with hers as she whimpers out. 

I wanna tie you up like that. Tie you up? Beat your ass raw and bloody? Whatever she's looking at, you want. You'll take without hassle. Anything for her. After one glance at the screen, 

Cumming for you, oh shit—

You wring out your high until there’s nothing left to give her, legs closing around your wrist at the aching sensitivity. Ellie’s head falls onto the arch of your knees, lathering your skin in spit-filled kisses, her soaked hand slowing between her legs. 

“Lay down.” 

“H-Hm?” 

“Lay down,” you croak. 

And she does, eyes filled with carnality. 

The porno is long forgotten when your head shoves between Ellie’s legs, the tape stuck on the starter screen while her cries of pleasure blend with the same bullshit accordion. 

You tongue her with fever, drink down all of her heartbreak that she endured while she was away from the source, mark yourself all over the terrain of her until she shatters with a cry of your name. Drenches your mouth, your tongue, your chin. Pushes you away with a cautious hand when you don’t stop. Flinches with sensitivity. 

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“Hold still.” 

You swipe the disinfecting wipe over Ellie’s wound, fresh blood leaking into the white cotton. She assembles new bandages where she sits above you, unraveling the sterile fabric for you to wrap her in.

“I’m trying!” She whines, “It still hurts.” 

“Shouldn’t have tried to ride my face— “

She flicks your forehead so hard, it thumps like a drum, and you wince before playfully biting her finger. 

She snickers and allows you to collect the last bits of blood with the last tarnished rag in your first-aid kit, snagging the bandages from her grasp. She holds down the new gauze and does as she’s told, lifting her thigh on your command as you bind her messy stitches. 

Why did you kiss them, though? 

It lasted 0.5 seconds. A quick, gentle smack meant to soothe, but your brain doesn’t see it that way. Red alarms glow in every crevice of your cerebrum, urging you to move away from your best friend. You stare at Ellie and Ellie stares back, expression no longer readable and easy-going, and you flinch away from her. 

Inviting her over for some innocent porn-watching is one thing… but kissing her without motive? Without the need to progress into something more? It stuns you more than her. You think.

“Sor — sorry — “

Ellie’s already palming at your shoulders, “It’s okay… it’s not a big deal— “

And it’s not. Why does her confirmation bloom a new ache in your chest? 

Your knees pop when you hurriedly stand, and Ellie follows, hands sliding down your arms to grab your hands. 

“Hey…”

You meet her eyes. 

“We’re good… okay? It’s nothing serious.” 

Don’t cry. You agree with a grin. One you pray she doesn’t notice cracks in its corners. She says nothing. Just caresses your cheek in unsaid thanks. Thanks for tonight. Thanks for the distraction. 

Ellie returns a smile before gathering her clothes off the floor. She dresses in silence as you watch with a sorrowful gleam. Is it selfish to ask her to stay? Would it be too much? Should you? Will you?

It’s when she’s tying her boots up that you say something. 

“I can walk you back!” 

“I got it. I’m not going straight home.” 

Ellie’s denial is calm. Gentle. Not abrasive in the slightest, but your hands quiver and heart swells, bound to burst with dejection. Where is she going? The town is sleeping. 

She leaves before you can ask with a promise of seeing you in the morning for breakfast. Nothing unfamiliar, nothing changed. 

Tears rock you to sleep, and you’re not sure why. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡

#ellie williams smut #ellie williams #ellie williams tlou #ellie x reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie the last of us #lesbian #works 𖧧࣪

[satorusugurugurl]

Idk how you would turn this smutty. But I guess it doesn’t have to be. But how would the jjk boys deal w their girl being depressed or just not really liking herself

JJK Men: When You’re Feeling Depressed/Anxious/Down

Characters: Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Nanami Kento, Ryomen Sukuna (Modern AU),

Word Count: 4,090

Warnings: Mentions of low self-worth, depression, self-negativity, anxiety, fluff!

A/N: A fix for those of us who have those bad days and need a little pick me up.

Gojo Satoru:

Gojo noticed something was wrong from the exasperated sigh from the bedroom. Popping his head in, he watched as you threw a top down on the ground, joining the growing pile of clothes on the floor. Your face was comforting between frustration and anger before you laid down on the bed, face down; your scream muffled into the mattress.

Seeing you like this, distraught and in distress, had Satoru padding across the floor, plopping down on the bed next to you. His large, warm hand gently rubbed up and down your back in soothing strokes. Only stopping when you slowly pulled back to look up at him.

“What's bothering you, sweet pea?”

“I just,” you sighed heavily, “nothing looks good on me. I feel dumpy, and I hate how I look.”

The harshness of your words had Satoru moving as if you had slapped him. “I'm sorry?” His hands cupped your face, squeezing it. “It just sounded like someone was insulting my girlfriend.” you tried pulling away from him, groaning as your hands pushed at him.

“Toru, stop!”

“No, you stop.” His tone left no room for arguments. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen: your face, personality, even this perfect body. Everything about you is perfect.” he was pleased when you didn't argue with him, “You don't like your clothes? You don't like how the clothes look? Come on.” he yanked you up, tossing you one of his shirts.

“Huh? What?”

“I said, come on.”

While wallowing in yourself, pity sounded like a beautiful idea. You knew your boyfriend. He wouldn't stop at nothing until you listened. So you reluctantly got up, dressed in one of his expensive shirts, before he dragged you out of the apartment.

Knowing Satoru, he would take you to some sweets shop and get you whatever you wanted. That was something you expected when it came to him. What you hadn't been expecting was for him to pull you into a boutique, the boutique you'd always fantasized about shopping at.

“W-Why are we here?” you asked, eyes wide as Satoru sat in a plush chair.

“You don't like any of your clothes, so I’m going to buy you a whole new wardrobe.” he leaned back, giving you a dazzling smile. “You shop to your heart's content, sweetheart.”

Your eyes moved around the shop, taking in the clothes you'd dreamt of wearing. “I-I can't, Toru, it's too expensive.” Satoru sighed dramatically, leaning his head back.

“I’m the head of the Gojo clan, a single child, and the strongest sorcerer of the modern age. Money is not a problem. I could buy out the entire store, and that's pocket change.” You twiddle your fingers, still feeling hesitant. “Sweetie,” you lifted your eyes, “have fun, you’ll feel so much better.”

Part of you didn't want to do this, to spend his money. It felt like he was a Sugar-Daddy when he presented you with extravagant gifts, but at the same time, he liked spoiling you. With a pout, you began thumbing through racks and pulling out tops and pants you liked before handing them to an awaiting clerk.

You glanced and grazed, pulling stuff off racks that looked good. Before you knew it, you stood in the dressing room surrounded by what seemed like dozens of articles of clothing. Would any of these even look good? Or would you still feel dumpy? The only way you would know was if you tried them on, which you had been dreading.

You pulled on a pair of jeans, a blouse, and some shoes before walking out. Satoru perked up, jaw-dropping as you stood in front of the mirrors. You looked—amazing. Your face mirrored his. You looked so pretty. The clothes fit you perfectly and complement the curves of your body along with your skin tone. For the first time all day, you felt good about yourself.

“Wow, just wow.” Satoru was a beaming ball of sunshine. “You looked beautiful earlier, but the confidence radiating off you is blinding! Strongest sorcerer in the world and luckiest boyfriend in the world!” You watched him pump his fist in the mirror.

“I feel perfect about this one.” you did a little twirl, looking at your backside.

“Me too! Go on, try on the next outfit! I wanna see everything.”

You felt as though you were in a movie. Going through a montage of outfits, all of which Satoru excited. He proudly announced to one of the attendants that you were his stunning girlfriend and looked terrific in everything. Ultimately, Satoru bought you ten new outfits, six dresses, ten pairs of shoes, and some jewelry.

You walked out in one of your new sun dresses, grabbing onto your white-haired boyfriend's arm. With a glance down at you, Satoru signed contentedly, squeezing your hand. You had a smile that could light up a million stages. His hand gently squeezed yours; your head tilted to stare at him.

“Feel better?” Satoru asked, giving you a wide smile.

“A million times better. Thank you, you didn't have to do that—” Having him spend that money on you left a bad taste in your mouth. Satoru could see how you avoided his gaze, how your hand tightened.

“I know.” The gentleness of his tone had your nerves relaxing. “But you were down, and I wanted to make you feel better. And from that adorable smile. I'd say I did a pretty damn good job.”

“You're so full of yourself.” Satoru swung your conjoined hands back and forth. “But that doesn't mean that you're wrong. You did an excellent job, Satoru; thank you again.”

“Anthrung to brighten your day, sweetheart. Now, let's grab some lunch! I wanna be the guy to take the hottest woman in the world to lunch!”

Geto Suguru:

Suguru could see it in your grin at work. It was a soft smile, one that screamed to others that you were okay. Everything was perfect in your life. But he could see the way that smile fell when everyone looked away. You weren't your perky, bubbly self, and that worried him.

Suguru waited until after the last of the students to leave before he walked up behind you, resting his chin on the top of your head, his arms wrapping around your waist. For a brief moment, he feared that you might pull away, that you needed space. He held a bated breath until you relaxed against his chest, allowing yourself to be engulfed by his larger frame.

He stayed like that, holding you tight for a long moment and not moving until you shifted from one leg to another. It was a signal that told him you wanted to move without outwardly saying it. So he released you, arms falling to his sides, hands sliding into his pockets as you stepped to collect your bag off the desk.

“Are you okay?”

You swallowed hard, nodding your head instead of answering him. You knew if you were to open your mouth to confess that you weren't as okay as you claimed, you would end up crying. You knew Suguru could see you weren't OK, but he wasn't the type to pry. So he just wrapped his arm around you and ushered you out of the classroom to head back home.

When you arrived, you took off your shoes and jacket and began heading to the kitchen to prepare something for dinner. Suguru was faster than you, grabbing your hand and pulling you to the living room, where he forced you to sit on the couch. He was lightning fast, sitting behind you, his hands gently rubbing at your tense shoulders, making you melt.

His fingers rubbed and kneaded the stiff muscles in your shoulders and upper back. His touch back in the classroom had been a comfort, but having him rub out the tension had you moaning as you leaned forward. Your soft mewls had him grinning, his fingers and hands continuing to move over your back.

“So,” he began, “will you tell me what's wrong? Or would you prefer to savor the moment?”

With a soft sigh, your body arched, leaning into his touch. “I just haven't been feeling like myself. I wake up a ball of stress, and I haven't been sleeping well.” A lump began to form in your throat as you struggled to find the words. “Works been a lot; I've been working twelve-hour days, that's not even including missions.” the tears you had been holding back this entire time finally escaped. “And I feel like I could do more for everyone and you. I don’t feel like I’m putting enough effort into everything.” The kneading of Suguru’s hands ceased; they remained still, gently squeezing your shoulders.

He took a moment to process your words, to filter through the pain and the stress that seeped through them. It was painfully clear to him that you were far more stressed than he had imagined. Situations like this called for more than just a back massage.

”I’m sorry that you have so much on your plate right now. If there’s anything I can do to help, please let me know.” The couch shifted as your boyfriend stood up, scooping you into his arms and carrying you toward the bathroom. “I think you might need to take a day off for yourself and stop worrying so much about helping everyone else out.”

Suguru sat you on the bathroom counter before unzipping his uniform jacket. “But I wan—“ He placed his forefinger gently over your lips, silencing the protests and excuses he knew you were going to make.

”I know you want to help. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to help out your co-workers and partner when a lot is going on. But you must also remember to care for the most important person.”

”Whose that?”

”You.” His words left your cheeks burning as you watched him draw a bath. “You want to help, but you can’t do that when you’re grinding yourself to the bone. For tonight, don’t worry about work, me, or what we're going to have for dinner. I want you to focus on you.”

As much as you hated to admit it, Suguru was right, and you had been working yourself to the brink of death. A hiccup was the only sound Suguru needed to hear to know that his words had struck home. Turning his head, bangs flowing, he shut his eyes as he gave you the warmest smile. You sat on the counter, wiping at your tired eyes, sniffling like a child as your boyfriends strode forward, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into a tight hug.

”Let’s take the night to focus on you.”

Suguru ordered dinner, and as you both waited for it to be delivered, you soaked in the bath together. The aroma of your favorite bubble bath mix and candles calmed you down. Your eyes were heavy as you pressed yourself back against Suguru’s bare chest, humming contently as he held you close. For the first time in weeks, you felt yourself slip into a deep slumber in the flickering glow of the candlelight. Your deep breathing and relaxed features left Suguru’s heart feeling light. Taking care of you was one of the greatest pleasures of the world.

Nanami Kento:

Nanami straightened his tie as he looked over himself in the mirror. With a heavy sigh, he stepped out of the bathroom and into your room, where you were nowhere to be found. The bed was unmade, so that you couldn't have gone far.

After grabbing his keys and wallet, Nanami went to the kitchen, where you were. Cocking an eyebrow, he began searching the apartment for you. The living room was empty, as well as the other bathroom. He was getting ready to pull out his phone to call you when a soft sniffle caught his attention.

The sound resonated from the office, where, upon looking inside, he found you sitting on the floor. You were surrounded by a pile of laundry in the basket, a list of groceries you needed to pick up, and you were reading over a report. He was watched for a long moment; tears ran down your cheeks as you sniffled, your eyes darting around items.

It was painfully evident you were in the midst of a depressive episode. When you suffered through these episodes, simple tasks you usually completed with ease were overwhelming to the point you held off on them until you could no longer ignore them. Seeing you so overwhelmed and drowning in your emotions had Nanami’s mind reeling on ways that he could help.

For now, the two of you need to get to work. With a gentle tap of his knuckles against the door, Nanami watched you regain your composure. You were taking several deep breaths, wiping at your eyes before you stood up, grabbing a boom to make it look as if you hadn't just been having an episode.

“Hey, are you ready to go?” Your fiance asked, watching as you hurriedly passed him with your head down. “If we leave now, we’ll have time to stop for coffee.”

“Yeah, I’m ready!” Nanami listened to your voice fade before he stepped inside, grabbing the grocery list off the floor and sliding it into his pocket.

“Alright, let’s head out.”

The day went by too fast for you as you sat in the morgue looking over the folders you still needed to file. All the deaths had been bringing up memories of Haibara and the young lives that had been lost in your line of work. You needed a break to escape the death that constantly seemed to follow you in your work.

On top of all the work that had you drowning in sorrow, you had been neglecting the housework. You had fully intended on doing it before Nanami got home from his latest mission, but to your horror, he got home earlier than you thought. Meaning he saw how neglectful you had been, and that made you feel even worse about yourself.

Before those self-destructive thoughts could overtake you, the door to the morgue opened. What you had assumed was Shoko turned out to be your fiancè. What time was it?! Was he already picking you up? You snatched the clock off your desk and felt your stomach drop into your ass. It was six thirty. Six-fucking-thirty, you still had to go to the store, do laundry, and make dinner on top of everything else.

“I was beginning to wonder if you planned on sleeping here tonight.”

“N-No, sorry, I just—” Nanami tilted his head, “I lost track of time.”

“Right, well come on, let's go.”

On the walk back to the apartment, your mind was jumping back between the unfinished files at work and everything that needed to be done at home. All of it was important, you knew that. All you wanted to do was crawl under the blankets and sleep. This suffocating sadness had its grip around your neck, choking the life out of you and rendering you exhausted beyond all means.

There would be time to cry yourself to sleep once your chores were taken care of. Thinking about the pile of laundry awaiting you had your skin crawling as you entered the apartment. The same apartment that had been messy this morning was now tidy and smelt like the cleaning products you used. Your head darted to the number on the door. Did you walk into the wrong apartment?

The pictures on the walls of you and Nanami confirmed that you were, in fact, inside the correct apartment. Which only confused you more as you stepped further inside, taking off your shoes. You speed walked to the office to finish the laundry. But the basket was gone? Okay, so groceries.

You searched for the list you had made, looking under some books, the desk, and your recliner before Nanami cleared his throat from behind you. “If you’re looking for the list, I took it.” Wooden floorboards creaked under his weight before he held a bouquet of your favorite flowers towards you.

“W-What’a this for?” you questioned, your fingers grazing over his as you took the flowers from him.

“I noticed you were looking down and stressed this morning, so I figured you needed a little pick-me-up.”

The sweet floral smell flooded your senses as you inhaled deeply. “Oh Kento, these are beautiful, thank you.” His large hand cupped your cheek, caressing your skin.

“I also cleaned, finished the laundry, and picked up the groceries. So all you need to do tonight is relax.”

“K-Ken—” Words couldn't describe the relief that washed over you, “you didn't have to do that.”

“I know I didn't have to, but I wanted to.” You were gently pulled in, his lips pressing against your forehead. “You’re my partner, my future wife. There aren't set duties that you solely need to do. We're a team; I can easily help.” Fat tears rolled down your cheeks just as you threw yourself into his arms, bawling into his chest.

Your future husband smiled sadly, wrapping his big, strong arms around you. His hands soothingly rubbed up and down your back in gentle strokes, making you cry even harder. Kento was the best thing that had ever happened to you. Compassionate, loving, and gentle, what more could you ask for a partner?

You cried for what seemed like hours in Kento’s arms. Never once did he get annoyed or urge you to hurry up. Once you felt incapable of crying anymore, you pulled back, hiccuping.

“Feel better?” Kento asked, gently cupping your face in both hands. A nod was all he received back as a response. “Good. Now let's eat dinner, bathe, and relax.” That is precisely what you did, snuggled up next to him, dozing off as he stroked your head. His eyes raked over the page of his newest book. All the worries faded as you drifted to sleep, engulfed in the warmth of his body.

Ryomen Sukuna (Modern AU)

“I-Is it gonna hurt?” The young eighteen-year-old girl asked as Sukuna held her lip with sterile forceps.

“If I said yes, would it make you feel better?” Sukuna snickered, holding up a large needle.

“N-No?”

“Then let me do my job.”

With a stab, yelp, and one ring later, Sukuna watched the girl wiping tears away as she checked out. He was snickering as he sterilized his workstation. There is a fifty-fifty chance she'll keep it or not. But he got to get one hundred percent of the tip regardless. So he couldn't complain.

“Sukuna,” Geto called from outside his room, holding the shop's phone. “It’s for you.”

With a glance at the clock, Sukuna could make a couple of guesses as to who would be calling him at work at two-thirty on a Thursday afternoon. Either one of his little brothers got into a fight, and the school was calling, or it was one of his clients calling to reschedule with him. Hoping for the second possibility, he huffed an annoyed sigh, taking the phone from his co-worker.

”This is Sukuna.” The line was silent, almost too quiet. “Hello?” He asked, tapping his fingers against the client's chair. “Look, I got important stuff to do, so if no one is bleeding or needs my attention, I’m hanging up.”

A whimper stopped him from pressing the red phone icon on the phone. He knew that voice all too well. It belonged to you, his girlfriend of two months. Why the fuck were you crying? Panic settled in his chest as he stood up, his chair rolling away as he held the phone flush against his ear with his shoulder.

”Babe?” He asked, getting another whimper in response. “Hey, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” Geto and the others had all gathered around, exchanging worried glances with each other as Sukuna rushed to grab his jacket and helmet from his locker. “Hey, I need you to tell me what’s happening.”

”I-I’m sorry —“ Soft sobs sounded from the line, “I had a terrible anxiety attack, and work sent me home, and I just feel so out of it. I know you’re at work, but I need you.”

“Do ya’ really think I give a fuck about work when you feel like this?” His voice came out a bit harsher than he wanted. “I’m on my way. Where are you?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry—-“

Fuck, he knew better than to snap when you were in the midst of an attack like this. “No, you’re okay. I need you to tell me where I need to go.” Sukuna held his breath, waiting for you to respond.

”M-My apartment.”

”Unlock the door; I’ll be there in ten.” A soft sob between understanding and goodbye sounded from the other line just as he hung up. “Geto—“

His co-worker was typing on his phone. “I’m texting Satoru now; he’ll pick up Yuuji and Choso. I’ll call and rebook your other appointments. Get out of here.” Sukuna gave him a thumbs up and a sharp ‘thanks’ before he bolted out of the shop.

Just like he had promised you, he made it to your apartment in less than ten minutes, bolting up the stairs and turning a sharp corner before throwing open your door. He locked the door, threw off his shoes, and hurried to the one place he knew you’d be at. Sure enough, he found you under the sheets in bed, curled in a fetal position.

Your body shook with sobs, ones that made Sukuna feel like someone was twisting a knife into his stomach. He truly hated your anxiety attacks just as much as you did. Not because he had to help you through the tremors and tears. But because he hated seeing how much they wrecked you.

You were amid a choked sob when the bed sheets lifted, and your boyfriend's musky amber scent flooded your senses. His smell alone had your grip on the sheets loosening as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. His body was so far, his hands gentle as you buried your face into his side, crying roughly, your tears soaking his shirt.

”Shh, it’s alright, brat, let it out. I got you; you’re going to be just fine.”

The sadness that clutched you tightly began to fade as he continued whispering into your ear. His soft words and gentle praises had you curling closer into him. Your boyfriend was the best at bringing you back into reality. He was your life preserver, holding you afloat in the sea of melancholy that would have drowned you by now.

This was the reason he was the one person you called in situations like this. Where the sadness was too much for you to carry or when your anxiety felt like it had possessed you, Sukuna was there to ground you and bring you back to your senses. Days like these were when you thanked whoever spun the bottle the night you played Seven Minutes in Heaven.

”You good?” Sukuna asked as he felt your trembles die out.

”Yeah, I’m just sorry I called you at work. For something so miniscule over an anxiety attack.”

Sukuna hummed and flicked your forehead with a painful—thump before he pulled your body closer to his own. “I gave you the phone number for the shop for a reason, brat.” His finger ran through your hair, gently massaging your scalp. “I care about you; I want you to call me when you're feeling down or if you need me.” There was a particular hint of shyness to his tone before he cleared his throat. “So what happened?”

“Do I have to talk about it?” You questioned with a sigh. “I just want to lay here and relax with you.”

“Babe,” pulled you tighter against him. “We can do whatever you want. No questions asked.”

You got what you wanted, and that was him by your side, grounding you. He made instances like this easier to deal with. Just his presence alone was enough to make you feel like everything was going to be okay. All because Sukuna was by your side.

#jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk #jjk y/n #jjk reader insert #jjk men #jjk gojo #jjk angst #jjk geto #jjk nanami #jjk sukuna #gojo imagine #geto imagines #nanami imagine #sukuna imagine #sukuna au #jjk gojo x reader #jjk geto x reader #jjk nanami x reader #jjk sukuna x reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader #reader x nanami #sukuna x reader #gojo x reader angst #geto x reader angst #nanami x reader angst #sukuna x reader angst #gojo x reader fluff #geto x reader fluff

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

the girl next door 2

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, chronic illness, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

This lewk but silverfox

You gnaw on your cheek as you read over the letter. Final warning. You really didn't think much of the first five but that word catches your worry; litigation.   

Your mother grunts and clicks her pen, dropping it as she curses under her breath. She tosses the crossword book away from the chair. For all your life, you remember her working on her puzzles. Now, she can hardly hold pen steady enough to put in a single clue.  

"Mom, you want another coke before I head out?" You ask.  

"Where are you 'headed out' to?" She scowls.  

"Just outside. Try to figure out the mower."  

"Piece of shit," she sneers and for a moment, you're not sure if she means the machine or you.  

"So..."  

"Just go," she snips.  

You purse your lips around the cut of her tone. You leave her in her recliner and you go down the hallway to the back door. You shove your feet into your stained vans and let yourself gently outside.  

You come down the steps and cross the overgrown grass to the garage. You prop the door open with an old paint can and drag put the mower. You haul it over to the little patch of pavement by the house as the sunlight raises beads of sweat across your forehead.  

You shade your eyes and squint. You don't get the thing. It's not even motorized, it just started catching. You can't push it hard enough to make it go. It only bounces uselessly across the ground.  

You squat and put it on its side. You examine the blades, nervous to dig between the mulching teeth. You grab a stick and poke around. It breaks and you rip it out.  

"Dang it," you whisper.  

You stand up. It's too hot to think. As much as you miss the sunshine in the grim winters, the heat is less than welcome.   

"Hey, excuse me," a voice startles you. You ignore it, thinking maybe it's just the neighbours on the other side of the fence. "Um, miss?"  

You turn towards the voice and find a man peeking through the loose slat in the fence. You sigh. Yeah,   

that needs to be fixed too.  

You stare dumbly. You recognise the man. It takes a few seconds to remember where you saw him. He was with the realtor. You hadn't see much yet, not that you ventured outside often. The sign changed to sold and that was that.  

"Hi, uh, so this," he touches the plank, swiveling it on the hanging nail.

You nod and go to the edge of the patch of pavement but no further. You nibble your lip and search for something to say. Talking to mom is easy, you know what to expect, but strangers are different.   

"Gonna fix it," you assure him flatly.  

"Yeah, well, I was actually thinking, I'm just doing a few touch ups right now and I could spare a couple nails or two."  

You tilt your head and bring your hands together, mashing your palms anxiously, "it's rotted."  

He wiggles the wood and little slivers fall away. He hums disappointed, "sure is." He smiles as his blue eyes shine in the sunlight, "no problem then. I'm sure I can find something at the hardware store."  

You hesitate. You should mention you can afford even half a plank. Grandma left you the house and enough to cover property taxes, but mom's monthly cheques are already stretched thin. If he doesn't ask, you won't offer.  

"Steve," he stretches his arm through the opening.  

You look at his hand. Your stomach flip flops. You don't want to be rude as much as you don't want to touch this strange man. Well, no use in making another enemy around here.  

You lift your feet as you trudge through the high grass. As you near, the sweat slakes down your back. You gently shake his hand, just for a second, and pull back.  

"And your name? Neighbour?" 

You stare at the collar of his grey tee shirt and eke your name out. 

“Is it just you over here?” He asks. 

You shake your head. You bend your arm to pick at your sleeve. You don’t mind introductions but you’re not much for conversation. You don’t need him prying into things. If anyone really saw inside those walls, they’d only feel bad for you. You’d rather their apathy. 

“Oh, you got kids? A husband?” 

You wince. It’s almost a flattering assumption yet a reminder of everything you don’t have. You’re not old enough to really think about all that anyway. 

You glance back at the side of the house. You should hose that down and get rid of the mildew. Another tick on the endless list. 

“Mom,” you say. 

“Ah, makes sense. You in school?” 

You shake your head again. He’s quiet. You sway listlessly. 

“Anyway...” he says. 

You put your head down and back away. You go back to the mower, bending down to fiddle with it again. You could see if anyone would lend you one but that means asking and as much as the neighbourhood paints itself in friendly smiles, they aren’t genuine. The letter on the kitchen table is proof of that. 

“Not working?” The man, Steve asks. You cringe and stand up. He’s still there. 

You shrug as you look at him. You turn back to the mower and lift it by the handles. You try to ignore the nosy neighbour and line it up with the grass. You push and it doesn’t move easy. You grunt and it rolls over the grass. You think maybe it’s working but as you turn, you notice the grass stands back up, only slightly bent. 

“You know, I got a nice electric one. Isn’t here yet but I can bring it tomorrow on the truck,” he offers, “I wouldn’t mind doing a once over, if you need.” 

You huff and push the mower over. 

“Can’t pay you,” you stomp back towards the house. 

“I didn’t say anything about money,” he chimes. 

You stop by the steps and cross your arms. You look at him, “too much.” 

“Well, if you change your mind, you can just come knock on my door,” he says. 

You nod and spin around again. You climb the steps, fighting to keep your steps even. You want to run inside and hide but you don’t want him to see how desperate you are to get away. 

The screen door snaps shut behind you. You kick off your shoes and go down the hall. Your mother huffs from her recliner. 

“You figure it out?” She asks. 

“No,” you flop onto the couch. 

“Knew ya wouldn’t,” she snorts as she stares out the window. “Man’s back. Musta bought the place.” 

“Uh, yeah,” you lean back, pulling the collar of your shirt over your face to sop up the sweat. “It’s hot.” 

“Nah, you’re just whiny,” she snickers. 

You don’t respond. You know better than that. You let her have her truth. Whatever she thinks of you, you can’t disprove. The world is she says it is. 

🏠

Your bedroom window shines yellow with the noon sun. The heat beams down on the folding table, warming your hands as you scratch charcoal onto thick paper. You still have grass stains on your fingers from another fruitless attempt at fixing the mower. Another day and you expect another letter isn’t far behind. 

As you focus on the lines and curves left by the pencil, your anxiety subsides. Drawing is the only thing that helps you forget. Really forget. You don’t think about the house or the lawn or the HOA or your mom. It’s just you and the pencil. 

You lean your forehead in your hand as you cross hatch the shadows. The chirping birds and the soft breeze deepen your trance. The world around you is distant and dim. You’re only awoken but the sudden and unfamiliar ‘ding dong’. 

You sit up. It takes a moment before you realise what it was. The doorbell? No one ever rings it. No, even Marge from the HOA waits until you come out to get the mail to accost you. 

You put the pencil down and get up. You go out and peek down the hallway. You creep along and stop at the doorway to the front room. You mom sniffs and wipes her eyes. She must have fallen asleep in her chair. 

“Who is it?” She snarls with grogginess in her throat. 

“I don’t know,” you go to the door and pull the curtain away from the long window beside it. You peek out at the figure on the porch and quickly hide behind the fabric. Too late. “It’s... the neighbour. I think he saw me.” 

“Ergh, don’t be stupid, girlie,” your mother barks, “help me up.” 

“Oh, uh, okay.” 

You go to her and offer your hand. You get her to her feet. She slightly hunched and slow but she makes her way to the door. She pauses and turns to the mirror above the little bench against the wall. She tidies her hair and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. 

She leans on the door as she grips the handle. She opens it and the man from next door, Steve, greets her with a grin. 

“Hello?” She sweetens her tone. 

“Hello, miss, sorry to bother you,” he says, “I just moved in next door and I’m getting settled in. I was just about to do some lawn work and I thought maybe I might offer to do yours? It’s no trouble, I just thought I’d offer.” 

“Oh, what a honey you are,” she preens, “of course, that would be lovely of you. My daughter,” she sighs and shakes her head, “I’ve been nagging her for weeks to get it done.” 

“Really, it’s not a bother,” he assures her, “I’m Steve by the way.” 

His smile is just as charming as his introduction. 

“Holly,” your mother returns, “I’ll make you some lemonade for your trouble. It’s a hot one, isn’t it?” 

“Sounds good,” he agrees, “I’ll try not to make too much noise.” 

You peek out from behind your mother. Steve’s eyes meet yours for an instant before she blocks her out, no doubt eager to hide the state of the house from him. You back up as she turns to you.  

“What’re you doing hanging on like a rodent?” She hisses, “go make some lemonade.” 

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #drabble #series #the girl next door #mcu #marvel #captain america #au #silverfox au

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

PLEASE POST THE IZZY PART FOR THE NO NUT NOVEMBER

A/n: Only one more of these to make B). This was going to be much shorter but it felt weird to make one really short when the other's are longer so I just kept going and I like this ending much more than the other one and I hope you agree, Izzy lovers are honestly the best kinds of people.

Warnings: smut, oral sex(f+m receiving), fingering(f receiving), degradation, drugs, if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy :3

Intro

Izzy left the studio with not much care. So long as he wasn’t the first out no one would care, right? Besides, all he really wanted was to stir the pot as per usual, and he did it like a pro. That’s all there was to it. He went on with his business and didn’t think too much about it.

Or so he thought.

He wasn’t doing anything with anyone, staying home more often than not and if he wasn’t he was getting cracked out of his mind at parties where that’s all anyone was doing, no one was getting ready for some action.

His stash was running low so he invited some people over, hoping to fix off of them. When people started showing up and getting loaded he happened to notice someone he’d never seen before.

He asked around and someone eventually gave him something. A friend of a friend of a dealer. Izzy didn’t think too much of it, someone else just trying to get high like him, what’s there to it?

Only, he kept catching her watching him.

At some point he’d gone to the bathroom to snort something alone. He’d just started when you came in and closed the door behind you. He gave you a look. “Sorry, I’m not sharing.” He mumbled.

“I’m not into that stuff.” You responded as he snorted another line. He looked back up at you with a confused expression.

“Then why are you here?” You shrugged and looked up to the fluorescent lighting.

“I’m into other stuff.” Izzy nodded.

“Smack?” He asked, looking at your arm for any track marks. “Heroin?” You took a step closer to him. “Come on, give me a hint, at least.” He asked with a wonky smile. You chewed your cheek and dropped to your knees, looking up at him with innocent starry eyes.

When Izzy saw that he was reminded of the bet. Now, he wasn’t ready to say no to a face like that but he wasn’t ready to forfeit either. Tough decision.

“Sorry, I can’t, my friends and I have this bet-”

“What kind of bet?” You interrupted.

“To see who can last the whole month without, like, doing anything.” He chuckled to himself at how stupid it sounded in his mind.

“Would you be the first one out?” Izzy let out a heavy breath at that and shook his head. All he wanted was to stir the pot and not be the last one out, right now it was just him and Slash. Oh shit, he was in the finals! He hadn’t thought about it that way. “Then what’s the big deal?” Izzy sucked his bottom lip and stared down at you, trying to think through the haze in his mind.

You stayed on your knees, looking up at him and watching for a reaction as you lifted up his shirt. Just enough so you could see his happy trail and press your plush lips to his abdomen. That pretty much killed any thought Izzy had against this.

As you kissed him he undid his jeans and pulled them down along with his boxers, hitting you in the face with his dick. You happily took the tip into your mouth and started swirling your tongue around it while your hand came up to stroke him.

He was already leaning against the counter behind him for stability when you took more of him into your mouth, getting yourself used to him hitting the back of your throat before taking him all in your mouth, gagging slightly on his length.

Izzy’s head was thrown back  in pleasure as your head bobbed up and down on him. You started touching yourself through your clothes, getting off on Izzy’s pleasure. When you started moaning around his member he couldn’t help cum, the vibrations sent him over the edge. He grabbed you by the back of the head  and pulled you down on him as he shot his load down your throat, guttural groans slipping past his lips.

When he was done he let go of you and let you pull away to catch your breath. You wiped your mouth and chin of the drool that had slipped out the corners of your mouth.

Izzy tilted your head up with a finger under your chin. “Did you swallow it all?” He asked with a lazy grin. You smiled up at him and opened your mouth wide to show you had. “Good girl.”

Having lost the bet already there was no point in looking back now. He gestured for you to get up and you did, now standing in front of him. He brought his hand to your waist and guided you to the counter where he could bend you over, lifting your skirt over your ass to give him a perfect view of you.

You were wearing a thin pair of panties and fishnet stockings. Izzy admired you for a moment before gripping the fishnets and snapping the weak threads holding them together, making a bigger opening for him. He pinned your panties to the side and thrust into you, your cunt already soaked.

He waited a moment, taking in how hot you felt wrapped around him, the face he could see you making in the mirror. He started moving, watching your face for a reaction he liked and when he saw one he knew to keep hitting that spot.

Of course it had your mind running miles a minute. The way his tip kissed that perfect spot inside you that had you seeing stars over and over again. His hold on your hips was tight, sure to leave bruises for you to look back on with fond memories.

Your favourite were the soft grunts and groans you’d hear in your ear. Heavy breaths mixed with the occasional moan. He was watching you in the mirror but you were also watching him as his head rolled back, you’d catch glimpses of his eyes crossing before he shut them tight.

Izzy took a hand off your hip to turn your face towards him so he could kiss you. His tongue slipped past your lips with ease. Your moans fell onto his lips as you came hard around him, slick dripping down between your thighs. The way you clenched around him was the last straw for him and he came again inside of you, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you impossibly closer to him.

“Fuck.” Izzy breathed, kissing you one last time before pulling away and watching his cum ooze out of you. He dropped to his knees and started lapping at your folds.

“Fuck!” You squeaked and tried to push his head away but he didn’t budge. “Izzy! Izzy, s’too much.” You whined. He responded with a harsh slap on your ass, leaving a pink mark. He continued eating you out like his life depended on it, sucking every ounce of your dignity you had as you watched yourself in the mirror. Your face contorting in pleasure, your hips bucking back to meet his face.

He pushed a skilled finger into you, making you cum with only a few pumps as he hit that same special spot every time and sent you over the edge.

“You’re such a bitch, you know that?” He mumbled as he stood up again behind you, now holding you and resting his head on your shoulder. “Sneaking into my house, getting me into the bathroom, sucking me off when I told you I couldn’t...” He had this smirk as he spoke, it was tired but carried a very needed amount of teasing.

“You could’ve stopped me if you wanted to.” You replied in an equally tired manner, leaning back on him slightly.

“I didn’t want to.” He said firmly, giving your neck a soft kiss.

#guns n roses #guns n roses fanfic #guns n roses x reader #guns n roses smut #guns n roses imagine #izzy stradlin #izzy stradlin x reader #izzy stradlin gnr #izzy stradlin smut #izzy gnr #gnr #gnr fic #gnr smut #gnr x reader #gnr fanfiction

[multifandomfanficss]

A Pretty Damn Good Solution

Egon Spengler x Reader

Prompt: When Egon finds out you’ve been having nightmares all week, he decides to find a way to help you by conducting a sleep study.

Warnings: Nightmares, panic attacks, sleep deprivation, and insomnia.

A/N: This is GN!Reader with no pronouns specified. The Egon brainrot is so real so please enjoy this incredibly self-indulgent fic I wrote to the cope with my work stress induced nightmares. Crossposted on my AO3 adriansglasses.

You woke up breathing heavy, in a cold sweat. You hear quick, clumsy footsteps running through the hallway of the firehouse. At first you’re confused. You’re still out of it and you’re scared. Suddenly Egon is busting through your doorway. His glasses are crooked, his pj shirt is buttoned incorrectly, the buttons not matching the holes. He has a proton pack slung over his back. He must have been in a hurry to get to you.

“Are you okay?! I heard you scream.” He looks at you with confusion. “I thought one of the ghosts had breached the containment unit.”

“I’m sorry. I just had a nightmare.” You apologize, still trying to collect yourself. You’re shaking like a leaf.

“Oh.” He looks at you sadly, taking off his proton pack. He sits on the bed, straightening out his glasses. The bed dips, shifting you towards him.

“I apologize for my appearance and demeanor. I was under the impression you were in danger.” He looks down at his shirt, fixing his buttons.

“I’m sorry I worried you.” You say, sheepishly.

“No, don’t be.” He draws out the o on the no, speaking softly, inflecting his tone upwards to try to bring you comfort. He gives you a soft smile, to match his tone.

You sit in silence for a few minutes. Egon isn’t quite sure what to say, but you don’t mind. Despite his awkwardness, he was still deeply comforting.

“I forgot to ask. Are you okay?” He breaks the silence.

“Not really. I’ve been having nightmares all week.” You begin to fidget with a string on your blanket.

“(Y/N), why didn’t you say something?” He asks.

“I didn’t wanna bother anyone.” You shrug your shoulders.

“You’re living in a building with several scientists who care about your well being. I assure you that you wouldn’t be bothering us. We could have helped you. You should have at the very least spoken to Peter. His concentration is psychology.” Egon tried not to lecture you, but he was confused as to why you were suffering alone instead of asking for help. He didn’t like to see you in pain.

“I guess I thought I should be able to deal with it on my own.” You avoid eye contact. Egon finally puts the pieces together. It wasn’t always easy for him to read social que’s, but he could read his friends easily enough.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed. Everyone has nightmares. They could be caused by a number of reasons. Typically mine are caused by stress, but I’ve since figured out how to get a handle on them through scientific means. Where they used to be constant, they’re now more rare for me.” He sympathizes.

“I didn’t know you had nightmares like that. I’m sorry.” You respond.

“They’re handled.” He pauses for a moment, thinking. “I believe it would be beneficial for me to conduct a sleep study on you starting tomorrow night, with your consent of course.”

“Do you really think it’ll help?” You look at him, desperate for an answer to your problem.

“Yes. I’ll have everything ready tomorrow night, but do you need anything before I go?” He asks.

“Can I please have a hug?” You request. Usually you’d be embarrassed, but right now you didn’t care. Egon had been the greatest comfort you’d had in the last several nights.

“Of course.” He smiles, a small blush creeping onto his cheeks. The hug is awkward at first, but you both relax into it. He’s warm and his pajama shirt is soft. While Egon’s presence is always calming, his steady breathing and heartbeat do wonders to bring you back to a more relaxed state. He begins to rub your back. “We’ll get to the bottom of this and just remember you’re not alone.”

————————————————————————

The next night you’d shown up to Egon’s lab as requested. You’re surprised to see he’s set up a cot with your favorite blankets and pillows. He was nothing if not observant.

“I gathered some things from your room in an effort to make you more comfortable.” He speaks, walking around the room, pressing buttons and moving things around.

“Thank you.” You smile. You sit down on the bed and Egon begins to fit wires to your forhead.

“May I?” He asks, gesturing to your chest.

“Um yes- yeah uh that’s okay.” You blush. Egon moves your shirt over and attaches wires over your heart. “I really appreciate you doing this.”

“Of course. It’s no problem, really. Do you need anything before you go to sleep? Can I get you a glass of water?” He asks.

“No, but can you explain how it’s gonna work again?” You lay down, attempting to get comfortable.

“While you’re asleep I should be able to see any changes in heart rate, breathing patterns, or brainwave activity. I can collect all the data I need and all you have to do is sleep.” He explains.

“Seems simple enough.” You give him a smile, despite your nerves.

Egon leaves the observation area and the lights dim. You close your eyes and fall asleep.

About 2 hours into the study Egon starts to notice a rapid elevation in heart rate and your breathing becomes heavier and inconsistent. He scribbled down notes, watching your brainwave patterns until you shoot up gasping. You start to pull at the wires attached to you, not remembering why they’re there. Egon enters the room with his journal and pen in hand. He approaches your bed.

“You’re okay. You’re in my lab, remember? I have to say that was quite interesting. How long did it feel like you were stuck in that nightmare?” He asks.

“Uh I- I don’t know, like hours?” You debate, trying to catch your breath.

“You were asleep for about 2 hours, but you only entered REM state about 15 minutes ago, which is when you started dreaming.” He takes down more notes.

“Only 15 minutes?” You ask, your voice and body shakey. Egon pulls a chair up to sit next to you. He lays his journal on your bed and takes your hand in his. He begins to feel your pulse. You instantly start to calm by his touch. He’s observant of this. He decides to keep holding your hand even after he’s done checking your pulse in an effort to keep you calm. He writes with one hand and holds your hand with the other.

“Can you tell me a bit about the dream?” He asks.

“I was alone in the firehouse and the containment unit broke and I was being chased by a demon. I woke myself up before it caught me.” He gives you a look. On one hand he feels bad that you were so scared, but on the other hand he’s intrigued.

“How did you wake yourself up?” He asks.

“I have like this thing I do if I need to escape a dream. I feel like I’m pushing and pulling and clawing my way out of reality, like I’m trying to swim through molasses until I wake up.” You tell him.

“That’s amazing. From my end your adrenaline spiked enormously. I didn’t realize you were doing that on purpose.” He scribbles down some more notes.

“Yeah. I guess that’s a thing I do.” You say awkwardly. “Did you get anything useful?” You ask.

“Yes, but I’ll have to run more tests throughout the week.” He closes his journal, turning to you. He realizes he’s still holding your hand. He doesn’t let go. He was so excited by the scientific aspects of the experiment he forgot why he was doing this in the first place. “We’re going to figure this out, but until then I’m here.” He smiles at you, giving you a look of sympathy.

————————————————————————

The next two nights went similarly to the first one. You would have nightmare and Egon would remind you everything was okay before sitting down next to you to take notes as you recounted the dream. Your dreams were often about being chased or not being able to save someone. You would usually use your emergency escape out of your dreams. Talking about your dreams helped. It gave you an outlet and it aided Egon’s studies. The two of you had fallen into a routine and it was starting to help.

Tonight was different. Egon watched as your heart rate spiked and your breathing patterns began to change. Your brain activity was off the charts. He knew you’d be up soon. He watched as you tried and failed to pull the emergency break. You begin to thrash in bed. He wonders why you haven’t woken up. He enters the room just in time for you to shoot up screaming and covered in sweat. You begin to hyperventilate, crying out. “Egon!” You cry for him. Tears start to stream down your face. He runs to your bed.

“It was just a dream. You’re okay. You’re safe. I’m here. Everything is okay, (Y/N).” Egon tries to keep his voice calm, but he speaks with urgency. He places his hands on your shoulders, trying to ground you. You can’t get your breathing under control.

“I- I couldn’t get out! I couldn’t get out! I was stuck and I couldn’t get out!” You’re speaking a mile a minute.

“(Y/N), look at me. You’re awake now. You’re safe. I won’t let anything hurt you. I need you to try to breathe with me. (Y/N), what’s three things that you can see?” He asks, trying to bring your focus back to reality.

“I can’t” You sob, unable to focus.

“Yes, you can. What’s three things you can see?” He repeats.

“I see your journal. It’s in the chair.” You try.

“Good that’s two things.” He smiles.

“Your pen is on the floor.” You continue.

“I dropped it when I rushed in to check on you. What’s two things you can hear?” He asks.

“The clock is ticking really loudly and- and I can hear… the heater is on.” You tell him, listening closely.

“Good. What’s one thing you can touch?” He asks.

“Can I touch you?” You ask, hesitantly.

“Yes, thank you for asking.” He smiles. You grab his hand, beginning to trace all the lines and wrinkles on it. You learn every detail of his fingerprints. Tracing the indents and following the patterns comforts you.

“Are you feeling a bit better?” He asks.

“Yeah. I’m sorry. I’m just having one of those moments where it’s hard to tell what’s real and what‘s fake. I woke up from a nightmare, but it was just another nightmare. I don’t know if I’ve ever had a dream inside of a dream before. I thought that was just in movies.” You keep tracing his hand.

“No, it’s real unfortunately, but so am I and so are you. This is real.” He gestures between you. Part of himself means that the two of you are real and your interaction is real, but another part of him meant something different. The care you have for each other is real too, very real.

“I hate that I’m still tired. I don’t wanna go back to sleep, but I know I have to.” You sigh.

“Would it make you feel better if I stayed in here with you?” He asks. While he’d usually be too awkward to ask this, his solution is based in science. All of his research points to his presence being a comfort. This gave him more confidence.

“Are you sure you don’t mind?” You hope you’re not being an inconvenience.

“If I minded I wouldn’t have offered. I want you to feel like you’re not alone.” He gives your hand a squeeze.

“I think that would help me a lot actually.” You start to shift, laying back down in bed. Egon gets up to turn the light back off, kicking off his shoes and lab coat before getting back into bed with you.

“I figured it might.” He smiles. He always loved when his scientific theories were proven right, especially one that benefited both of you so much. It brought both of you comfort to be in each other’s arms. Egon’s presence was enough for you to sleep soundly for the rest of the night and he was happy to know that you felt safe and calm. Even if it was only a temporary solution to your problems, it was still a pretty damn good solution.

“Goodnight, Egon.”

“Goodnight, (Y/N).”

#egon spengler oneshot #egon spengler fanfiction #egon spengler imagines #egon spengler fanfic #egon spengler x reader #egon spengler #harold ramis #Harold Ramis fanfiction #Harold Ramis fanfic #ghostbusters #ghostbusters oneshot #ghostbusters x reader #ghostbusters imagine #ghostbusters fanfic #ghostbusters fanfiction

[nereidprinc3ss]

ok LOVED the ask about dybmn!spence headcanons … to add on to that (& please correct me if i’m wrong!!! i don’t mind at all if your opinion is diff than mine hehe) but i wonder if/feel like spence would get sort of condescending? like as reader gets more comfortable with herself you know? & never in an awful way but i think just leaning a little more into the power dynamics? like back in part 1 where he asks if it’s too much she says no and he goes “no of course it isn’t. you’ll just take whatever i give you won’t you” or smth like that and that part had me kicking my feet LOL like he’s not being inappropriate or playing on her insecurities but it’s just something i think fits! also in a couple of your other fics even if they don’t belong in this universe but like in relax (which is my favorite thing you’ve written btw ily) she says it’s too much and he goes “no it’s not” and essentially you can take it and. SQUEALS like it’s not in a gross way but it’s like deliciously condescending #toME idk maybe this is purely self indulgent but i do think that it’s something he would be into. like the “you can take it” OR OMG when he makes her use her words. DIES omg this is so long and all over the place i hope this made sense LOL but either way again i loved you expanding on the headcanons so much … love to hear what’s going on inside the perfect brain that brings us all these fics LOL kisses babe

i love you anon god bless the asteroid that killed the dinosaurs who turned into the fossils that created the oil that became the gas that fueled the car that drove your mother to the hospital on the day you were born

more 18+ ramblings

i’ve always thought that spencer has a mean side. and i don’t mean that as in classic degradation but as you said condescension. i think in the dybmn universe he’s been holding himself in check a lot, much more than we realize, because he doesn’t wanna overwhelm the reader or accidentally make her feel bad about herself because he knows she’s still fragile at this point. but it definitely sneaks into the way he speaks to her sometimes, like as you said in part one, and it’s definitely pretty clear in his thoughts in part three. and it’s like this weird dissonant motivation where on the one hand he wants her to know it’s okay to not think so fucking hard all the time and to just let him take care of her and on the other he genuinely wants to cultivate her ability to stand up for herself during sex and tell him what she wants. like when he says he wants her words he really wants her words, he wants to make sure she’s engaged and present and she doesn’t have to be eloquent but he does expect a response of some sort.

and then some of it is just because he likes seeing how desperate she gets for him like….. use your words or ask for what you want or whatever are all said with the same unspoken messages which are you’re a grown up so act like it or remember how smart you were five minutes ago or it’s so cute when i let you talk back to me and we pretend like i can’t fix your attitude the second i decide im sick of it

like he just really gets off on the implicit control he has over her, not because he has to forcibly take it but because she hands it to him and she trusts him with it and he LOVES being trusted, he wants to make sure she knows he’ll never break her trust and he’ll always take care of her even if he’s sometimes a little mean😁 he just loves reader BAD

but ya at the root of all the condescension is just a lot of genuine adoration probably because he’s sooooo whipped it’s sickening truly

#asks #ramblings #actually i might be IN love with you

[papercranepoets]

Hermione paced the library after hours needing time to clear her head after a row with Ron.

“Well, well, well… what do we have here?”

Hermione’s eyes snapped towards the uppity, sharp sounding voice.

“Shut up, Malfoy. Let’s not pretend you don’t know why I’m here.”

Malfoy smirked, looking her up and down slowly. Then he was crowding her space, grabbing her arms and pushing her against the table.

“Weasel couldn’t get you there??” He sneered grabbing her chin.

“I’m not here to talk.” Hermione stared into his icy eyes trying not to think about his other hand digging into her hip.

“Not here to talk. Is that right, Granger?” He hoisted her onto the table and stepped between her. Leaning into her neck, Granger fluttered her eyes closed. Now it was time for some relief.

Malfoy chuckled breathing onto her neck and swiping her mane away. No kiss came. “What if I wanted to talk?” He breathed into her.

Grabbing his shirt and pulling him closer, Hermione tried to shut him up. For gods sake, why was he not just kissing her already!?

He nuzzled his nose into her neck and chuckled again before pushing away.

“What the hell!?” Hermione was enraged. From Ron to Malfoy and his snooty, rich, asshole, strikingly handsome self, men were really pissing her off tonight.

She met his eyes, red painting her cheeks in embarrassment. Malfoy was already staring at her, eyes dark and predatory.

“First you want to talk and now you’re barely even breathing. Gods, you’re so fucking moody and weird sometimes?”

His nostrils flared as he looked at Hermione sprawled on the table. He looked like he could avara her on the spot. Her eyes widened as she straightened up.

“Stop using me every time you have a little fight with your boyfriend.” His jaw ticked. Was he actually pissed off? “Better, yet. Stop talking to me altogether until you’ve fixed that situation.”

Hermione’s brows stitched together, “fixed the situation? What…”

“Oh, please, don’t play fucking dumb. You’re much brighter than this.” Malfoy scoffed, “maybe we can resume this and move our little library rendezvous to something more comfortable. Dump your little weasel and we’ll talk.”

“I…” Hermione was completely bewildered.

“No.” He breathed sharply, “Send me a note when you decide what to do.”

And with that he was half way down the aisle.

Hermione didn’t realize she was holding her breath… so much for clearing her mind.

#harry potter fanfiction #my fanfiction #dramione art #draco malfoy #dramione #dramione fanfic #dramione fandom #draco x hermione #short fiction

[starz0rstuff]

“Take a good look around you, Rhys… this is what success looks like. You’ll see… after a while you start to measure it by the size of the pile of destruction around you.”

(The BIG ONE and a small doodle I did to figure out how to draw this silly fellow)

#rhys strongfork #borderlands #borderlands 3 #tales from the borderlands #I finally managed to play some of the borderlands games and his cringe fail personality captivated me #I was also captivated by the decay of his character in the newer games #I love when they do my favorite character incredibly dirty as much as the next guy #but in his case there’s a delusional part of me that is still convinced they could fix him with just a sprinkle of angst #just a sprinkle #a little one #(please gearbox I’m on my knees here) #on a side note it’s really funny how every time I come back here I post something completely different #i think it’s neat #starz artsy stuff

[bloobydabloob]

Is there a reason ur drawings kinda look like someone stretched them in some direction. Not in a mean way. It's very silly imo /pos

Thank you, I’m glad you like it. I take inspiration from artists like @tostyart (twt) @robert_valley (insta) jasonlupas (twt) and several other artists, who do the same thing. I think it looks great. There’s no deeper reason sadly… just think it looks cool.

#third ask in a row about the skew. Hahaha #I get why some people might not like it #I love it though. I think it’s sooo sick #I deleted yesterday’s ask because I didn’t want to clog my page with asks but I’ll reiterate #I don’t think that imperfect art should be fixed or corrected #I struggle more specifically with rigidity in my art #I have a tendency to overwork the shapes in my art to the point where it’s just… stiff as hell #So I think also the skew helps disguise that a little. Maybe I’m a cheater #But anyways #I really like skewiff or quote unquote wonky looking art. #I love art and I love beginner artists and I love shakey lines and imperfections #I think it’s soo awesome. #I dig all art to be honest. Really honestly I just like art. I’m rambling here haha #but no… Some of the people listed get insecure about the asymmetry or whatever in their art. #I don’t think anyone should be ashamed of their art as long as they are doing something they enjoy and improving #without wonky art and without weird looking stuff #we wouldn’t improve. That’s what really sucks #But I guess that’s not why I do it. I wish I could do the skew on accident dude. #Please check out @tostyart by the way #genuinely probably one of my favorite artists of all time #I think you will enjoy their stuff. It’s so different to everything else and their characters are wonderful #they have such wonderful line work and are so great at working with composition and perspective. #Everything I aspire to be #Sorry for tag rambling. I did this exact thing yesterday too #don’t give me the opportunity to talk about art. I’ll never shut up. #still not on topic though #TLDR : I think it looks cool

[onedirecton]

Day 3! Give it up for day 3 of crying over something!

#today something was wrong with my toilet at like 6:30am 😭 please give me a break I’m begging #I video called my parents while I was crying because I needed help and I didn’t know what to do #anyway landlord has been texted because I genuinely don’t know how to fix a toilet tank that constantly runs and doesn’t fill up! #I’ll be so embarrassed if he just turns the valve on again and it’s fine 😭 #I didn’t have time to try that myself skdjsjdn I feel really stupid and incompetent #and I feel like I’m bothering my landlord so much with these smoking complaints and the hallway light issue :( #anyway while I was crying my dad was very sweet with his unhelpful encouragement and he said something like you should pray more because #God listens to children more than adults he answers their prayers more quickly #and I was like I’m #not a child anymore? and my dad was like true but you’re MY child and you always will be #and that made me cry even more 😭😭😭 it was very sweet

[lilgynt]

still sobbing my eyes so never having a weed free night again

#personal #my door got caught on my laundry basket and crutches and i crashed against the walker i got my dad #and i want to yell at my brother how awful he is - which? either of them but mainly the broken door one #but i’ve done that and it doesn’t change anything let alone how i feel #and i wish my mom understood but she just hates me #and she can say she doesn’t and she buys me gifts but then hangs it over my head bc we’re broke #but it’s like i’m in the wrong for my brother violently breaking my door and then is upset i’m upset he still hasn’t fixed it #and this only came up bc she bought me a door accessory. BUT WOULDNT LET ME BUY A DOOR WHEN IT Orginally broke #like life is fine and all till i’m sober and remember my family is actually doesn’t like me and is super mean to me #and i feel like i’m so burnt out from everything i can’t even think about moving out #even tho i said fuck it that one time a few months ago #and i can’t move in with either of my brothers bc they’ve deeply hurt me and i can’t trust them like that #like do i think i would be safe with them and they would house me yes without question #do i think i would sooner kill myself over the pride issue of them constantly treating me like shit i can’t imagine living with #or being thankful to them while still feeling like #i don’t even know what i feel other than not liked or respected by my family #i know it’s lack of weed period and then just also generally living a bad life and having bad family relations but oh my god #gun to the back of my head rn please. please. #but in all seriousness first night i’ve been like huh. i could definitely buy a gun. really bad since the whole dad situation #like other night i punched a mirror when i got charged from my dentist from something two years ago with no warning. no notice #like 200 bucks. so. i already dealt with that it’s some insurance shit im seeing if i can do payments or whatever but never fucking working #with them again. didn’t even answer my question on why i wasn’t given any notices when i had them send me the bill and insurance claims

[unhinged-nymph]

.

#i told myself I wasn’t going to do posts like this anymore but here we are #please ignore #i truly don’t understand what I’m supposed to be living for #I’m tired and sad and so so broke and I have no energy or motivation or inspiration to do ANYthing #I’m trying really hard to convince myself that this is all worth it but like?? #the math ain’t mathin #i don’t get to experience love or intimacy #I’m in a job that I’m so sick of but I don’t have the energy to try to find a new one #especially because I don’t even want to work to begin with #i can’t get myself to focus long enough to read or write #i literally come home from work and just stare at the ceiling #or I’m running myself ragged doing colorguard bullshit #i don’t want to do any of this anymore it’s so boring and overwhelming at the same time #and like the world is literally falling to shit around us? #and there’s nothing I can do about it #i just don’t know if I’ll ever find something that makes life worth living #gosh everything seems so pointless and hopeless #I’m not even sad really just so fucking disappointed in myself and this dumb little life #and now what? how am I supposed to fix this? what can I even do? #i have no money no support no back up plan nowhere to go nothing to do #I’m just stuck here with no way out because I’m so alone and mentally I’ll and honestly just so discouraged #i keep thinking that I’ve found my new rock bottom and then someone throws down a shovel and tells me to start digging #i have no idea where to go from here #i keep trying to just take it a day at a time but days just keep coming and going and things get worse not better #and I fall further and further behind #and I’m simply just not strong enough to do anything about anything #I’m OVER this

[girlvinland]

I’ve been feeling bad about my art lately. Idk I just feel like when I hear or see a friend make fun of it even teasingly it ends up really hurting my feelings? I don’t really care what strangers say or whatever but when it’s someone close to me it always hurts more, especially when they don’t give any advice on how to fix something or don’t make it clear it is a joke. It kind of puts me in the mood to just. Not.

#by bug #minor vent idk #please don’t think this is a cry for sympathy or anything it’s just me being annoyed #but anyway #it makes me feel so ashamed to ever show people things #or even draw at all I guess #idk why I’m so sensitive about that stuff #I’m fine with criticism and advice but just being mean for no reason gets under my skin #obviously I don’t want you to blow smoke up my ass but #it’s just a pet peeve #like you make fun of me and tell me something is wrong #at least give me ideas on how to fix it too #also like me making fun of my own art isn’t really an invitation to make fun of it too even if we are close #ughhhhh I just feel discouraged rn #i try not to let outside opinions on things get to me but being teased/made fun of does get to me sometimes #the lasting affects of being bullied I guess

[goldkirk]

NO NEED TO READ. I’m just venting 👍

Tw: suicide mentions and stuff

So I can’t give details bc protecting privacy of minors and my family who doesn’t know I have a tumblr or anything etc etc but I was right in suspecting that the adults back home don’t tell me anything non-great going on and G is having a way worse time than I was made aware of and as usual no one is doing ENOUGH and what’s being done is late and I’m like I just—I was TRYING to tell adults for FOUR YEARS and especially the last two of them and no one LISTENED until it was unavoidable and I STILL didn’t get anyone listening to my advice about things and I don’t have any way to make a difference but I swear to god if this goes on for another year or four the kid is going to kill himself. Like they are giving him NOTHING to live for, he has like 10% good and 90% misery and at least if I moved back home for a year or two I could be close enough to do something in an emergency. They don’t give their kids any way to talk to me and they wouldn’t let me around the kids to babysit or anything since I’m gay and a corrupting influence and believe in science and not fundamentalism but I’m telling you I had an extra 5-10% that this kid doesn’t have and I almost killed myself anyway and I didn’t have the massive health problems this kid has at that age either. They wouldn’t let me help him if I moved back but he has LITERALLY no one not in that worldview or viewing kids as not having rights etc etc and like. Of COURSE he can’t improve his emotions and behavior when he’s NEVER IN A SITUATION THAT LETS HIM HAVE ENOUGH LACK OF STRESS TO HEAL AND ENOUGH EXAMPLES OF ADULTS BEING HEALTHY EMOTIONALLY. WHAT DO YOU EXPECT

it just SUCKS and my mom is doing as much as she personally can to help in terms of getting him school accommodations and stuff but they all assured me so much while I was in the apartment 20 minutes away that things were SO much better and none of the old stuff was happening with him running away or needing to get dropped off to spend the night or whatever and I just you’re telling me they’ve been locking up food and you get calls at night on random days asking if they can drop him off at your house and the kid doesn’t have school accommodations and is failing some classes and has no motivation and has ongoing behavior issues and I just WHY DO YOU SAY THESE THINGS LIKE IT’S JUST A SHAME AND HE’S THE ONE CAUSING ALL OF THEM, and they didn’t take it seriously or see the problem when the kid scratched his own face bloody etc etc TWO YEARS AGO my god you people he doesn’t even tell you anything, what, do you think what you see on the surface is the extent of it?????

I’ve had conversations and I’ve cried at them and I’ve educated them and I’ve exhorted them at one am and I’ve tried to share my own experience and I’ve tried to give them science and I’ve tried to be a mediator and I ruined Christmas Eve begging them to be safer for these kids than they were for me because once I left the kids would have no other option bc they have no other trusted adults and they don’t GET it. If my parents and siblings ignore risks and one of my nephews or nieces ends up dead, I’m never going to forgive them for the rest of my life.

#please don’t suggest contacting DFS I already tried that last year and I was outed by my mom and everyone was REALLY mad and both the kids #and I got a lot of blame #and it wrecked my sister AND my mom and was expensive and didn’t help anything anyway #and there’s no evidence I can give and it’s everyone else against the crazy one (me) soooo #and also the foster system is terrible back home #i just needed to vent because this is everything I was afraid of happening back when I was like 14 and realizing if anyone ever knew #who I was and what I thought I’d be an evil influence from Satan and #never allowed access to the kids ever again and never trusted and kept informed about things #they spent years asking why the kids respond well to me #and asking if I can help with these situations #and I always did and I told them the same things every time and they never listened and I don’t want to be a PERSON I am so sick of being #a PERSON #why can’t you just fucking be KIND to each other and put in the work to face painful facts and GET BETTER BECAUSE OF IT #i did it on my own as a teenager you’re all at LEAST 16 years older than me I HATE you you just keep HURTING us kids and you don’t believe #you do because your worldview is the only right one and you can’t allow any other possibility!!! #well one of these days one of us is going to do more than wait 8 years to finally go to a hospital #and someone’s going to do something that can’t be bandaided or fixed #and you’re STILL not going to understand why #and I’m never going to know what to DO WITH YOU ABOUT THIS #oh thank FUCK #finally!!!!!!! an emotion!!!!!!!! oh my god it’s been over a month since I felt a feeling #this is great #excuse me I’ll be back in a while #I’m going to go feed the baby flame of this anger and try to keep it around for a bit so I remember what existing is like #I’m genuinely so happy right now hang on #thanks to anyone who read all the way through this ily and please make sure you have any water meds rest and food you need!!!!!! #shh katie #family #i love them all so much it eats me inside #i just want everyone to be GOOD like I know they’ve been able to be when I was little

[mightyoctopus]

Blind Tumblr users: don’t get the latest iOS app update!

I just updated my tablet to the newest version of the tumblr app for iOS and it completely broke screen reader access for both VoiceOver and Spoken Content. This has happened in the past already, so I will file a support ticket and copy-paste my text from last time, but this really sucks. I sincerely hope this doesn’t affect all screen reader users, but I’m unsure how they could program this bug in a way it only affects me. If you rely on a screen reader to use the tumblr app, I’d advice to not get the latest update to be on the safe side.

When I say “completely broke access”, what I mean is that no posts on my dash or on individual blogs get read or recognized at all. No plain text, alt text, tags, etc. Note count and buttons still work though.

If you also run into this bug, here’s my advice. If anyone has something more useful, please tell me

File a support ticket and report this bug

Use the browser web version, which still works for me

Interestingly, if you save a post to your drafts and click on “edit” the post text seems to get read correctly. This might be a work-around for some people.

If you have the latest version but your screen reader didn’t break, also please tell me! I would be fascinated to know if this bug is only affecting some people

TL;DR: The latest tumblr app update for iOS made it so screen readers no longer work in the app

Please boost!

Edit: This issue is now fixed as of November 10th 2023. However, since this is a recurring issue, it’s possible that a future update will break it again. See notes for more details.

#blind #blindness #screen reader #visually impaired #actually disabled #accessibility #I'm the OP

[look-at-the-stars-tonight]

Everyone should get back into whatever they were in love with as a ten year old just as a little treat

#obsessing about these books is one of the main things keeping me afloat rn < 3 #u know when there’s. five million things going on all the time #and they all just pile up and up and up and up! and then u just gotta take a deep breath and get through it cause the alternative is dying #so there’s not Really an alternative u just gotta distract urself from the horrors of being alive #anyways my mom is having surgery today #being so normal about it #my aunt is on vacation so I texted work yesterday and was like hi <333 I know I have a plane ticket back literally in a few hours but <3333 #give me another week please and thanks #and I love my managers they immediately did #and I’m working remote but I can’t FOCUS #I’m. gonna do yoga or something maybe that’ll fix me