#fruit punch be way too sweet sometimes

[lesbianangeldust]

Luck of the Draw

Chapter 1 ♤

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Pairing: Husk × Angel Dust (HuskerDust)

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: Being drugged, mentions of sexual and physical assault

In the early hours of the morning, the Hazbin Hotel bar is still open, albeit empty, except for the bartender himself. Angel Dust isn't back from work yet, and Husk finds this troubling. He's learned that it's a game of luck predicting which version of Angel will walk through that door - Angel Dust the porn star, or the real Angel. The one he respects, yet can't help holding at arms length. However, when Angel finally shows up, Husk quickly learns that luck is something that people like Angel never get a taste of.

4:28am.

Husk looked down from the gaudy parlour clock to the freshly polished bar with a grimace. Angel should have been back from work by now. Not that he was waiting for him, fuck no. He wasn’t no goddamn baby sitter. He had better things to do than sit around waiting for the kid to waltz in and talk his ear off, demanding some sickly sweet cocktail that took way too much effort to mix for what amounted to booze and fruit juice, and taunt him with his sleazy porno pick-up lines (which, admittedly, he’d been cooling off on lately). Besides, it wasn’t like Husk needed a drinking buddy – he’d drank alone his whole life and all that came after, and he’d be double damned if the flames of Hell were hot enough to melt the thick, icy shell that encased his heart.

He had to admit, though, he had been getting used to the company. It had become an unspoken routine: Angel Dust usually flounced into the hotel sometime after midnight, and the two demons would share a few rounds to see off the day. But a gambling man like Husk never discredits the influence of luck on a situation – not least when fondness has sweetened the pot – and he’d come to realise it was all down to chance which version of Angel Dust would walk through that door. Most nights he’d burst in all toothy smiles and suggestive remarks, his carefully crafted mask barely faltering no matter how many times Husk brushed off the sexual comments. As irritating as he found them, he quickly learned that after a couple of drinks, Angel would mellow out and the mask would slip just enough for the two of them to have a real ass conversation, to just shoot the shit and reminisce, like old friends – real friends. The kind you make in life. Husk even found himself at times wondering if it would really be so terrible for his cold heart to warm a little, if the burn of the whisky and the spark of a newly kindled friendship could thaw him enough to feel the closest thing to affection he was still capable of. This thought was never given the opportunity to bloom into anything more substantial before Husk would stamp it from his mind with vigour, assuring himself it was nothing more than a liquor-fuelled fantasy, tantalising him with the fickle temptress of hope.

The other Angel was a different story. Husk couldn’t help but dread those nights: the nights where Angel would skulk through the door with his head hung low, bruised and bloody, torn clothing just barely clinging to his battered body; the nights where the mask Angel clung to fell to the floor, shattered, useless up against the black eyes and smearing makeup. As openly as Husk despised Angel’s bullshit persona, and although he valued authenticity above all else, seeing behind the curtain like this could be a little too rich for his blood. The sheer stench of shame was overwhelming, and Husk had to hold in his feelings with an iron grip. Angel didn’t need to know how much of a useless idiot he felt, or the anger that burnt him from the inside out every time he thought about the evil bastard that treated Angel like his prize fucking punching bag. Husk was well aware that he didn’t know the half of the abuse that Valentino inflicted upon Angel, and, as shameful as it felt to admit, he’d prefer to keep it that way. His old, decrepit heart didn’t know what to do with the emotions that swelled within him when he dared to wonder how much Angel was forced to put up with, and he was certain no amount of booze could placate him enough to keep his cool if he were ever to find out.

But, all that aside, Husk was a bartender. He was no stranger to pouring drinks for down-on-their-luck losers looking to drown their sorrows. So, when Angel came home looking worse for wear, he would simply do what he did best and pour him his favourite drink, and the two would stew in the heavy silence until Angel loosened up and their usual conversation would trickle into balance, feigning some semblance of normality.

His thoughts were promptly interrupted by the sound of the front door swinging open with an almighty shove, followed by the clumsy scuffle of heels on hardwood and hissy, murmured curses. Husk had been a bartender long enough to recognise the graceless sounds of a drunk bastard, and his eyes narrowed as Angel’s silhouette stumbled up to the bar, seemingly unaware of Husk stood behind it. Sure, he’d seen the kid in all kinds of states. Drunk? Sure. High? As a kite. Sober? You gotta be kidding. But fucked up enough to be tripping over his own feet, mumbling incoherent nonsense? This was new. Even in the depths of whatever he was high on, Angel Dust was sharp as a tack, quick-witted and oh so irritatingly fake. Eternal damnation plus addiction equals one hell of a tolerance, Husk supposed. Of course, his “supposing” was arbitrary – he knew this first fucking hand. So, to see this display from Angel filled him with a sense of unease.

As if on cue, Husk’s ears pricked up as a high pitched yelp, punctuated by a sudden smack to the floor, rang through the empty halls. Peering over the bar, he was greeted with a pitiful sight – Angel sat crumpled in a tangled heap of limbs, massaging the part of his head that had made contact with the floor and clutching a bottle of clear booze to his chest that he appeared to have been protecting during his ungainly fall. His blazer was mostly open, and the few buttons that were done up seemed to be in the wrong places. As he swore under his breath and began dusting off his sleeves, Husk couldn’t help but notice his expression. Irritated, sorrowful. Tired. The performance was nowhere to be found, and as had been the case since the real, raw Angel had started making himself known, Husk was gripped by a familiar, palpable tension. But there was a thread of something different about it, some kind of vulnerability that came with witnessing this particular scene.

That’s when he realised what – who – he was seeing: Angel Dust when no one was watching. When he thought no one was watching. Husk was struck by something akin to wonder, a glimmer of awe at the rarity of what he was witnessing, that was snuffed out instantaneously by the nakedness of it. Angel Dust, the porn star who’s entire afterlife consisted of working the cameras; the demon who, for once, truly believed he was not being watched; and Husk, the unwitting voyeur, the pair of eyes from the darkness that promised the safety of being alone.

“Need a hand?” Husk broke the painful silence. The idea of watching any longer than he already had was nauseating.

Angel’s head snapped up at the shock of realising he wasn’t alone, and his face momentarily flushed from embarrassment of being witnessed in his predicament. Quickly as the embarrassment came, it was gone, replaced by that familiar cockiness Husk knew all too well. He never thought he’d be relieved to see that fake bullshit, but it was a hell of a lot more comfortable than whatever the fuck that was.

“Nah. I got plenty,” Angel Dust flashed Husk a flirtatious grin as his third set of arms made an appearance to steady him against the floor, one arm still clutching the bottle tightly to his chest. He pushed himself up onto his feet with great unsteadiness, swaying dangerously before he flopped dramatically down onto a stool and planted the bottle on the bar beside him with a careless clunk. Husk whisked it behind the bar in less than a second – there was no way he was letting this kid drink anything else, and besides, Angel was too out of it to even register that the bottle had gone.

“It’s late, y’know. Even for you,” Husk immediately cringed at the domesticity of the words that just came out of his mouth, like a pent-up housewife chastising her deadbeat husband for leaving her home alone all day.

Even with his usual sharpness dulled by the intoxication, Angel was quick to sense Husk’s insecurity. He pounced in his usual manner.

“Aw, don’t tell me you’ve been waitin’ up for me, Husky,” he teased, his usual sultry tone sullied by slurred words. “I woulda come home sooner – ya only had to ask, babycakes.”

Angel’s flirtation bounced straight off Husk as though he’d barely noticed. He didn’t even look up from the glass he had taken to polishing to distract himself – to give himself something to look at that wasn’t Angel.

“What the hell did you take, Angel? You look-”

“Devastatingly handsome?”

This time Husk looked up from the glass, one eyebrow raised. That stupid, sleazy, shit-eating grin again. God, even in the state he was in, he managed to be the same annoying fuck he always was. The relief of the mask going back up was quickly losing it’s charm.

“You look like shit,” Husk growled. It was true. Angel was slumped over the bar, propped up on one elbow as if it were the only thing keeping him from tumbling right back onto the floor. His eyes were half-lidded and bloodshot, unable to stay focused on Husk even as he’d been shooting him those ridiculous looks, and his face was swollen, puffy and flushed crimson. This wasn’t just alcohol, and it sure as hell wasn’t coke or any of Angel’s usual uppers. The nagging, biting feeling in Husk’s gut grew the longer he went without certainty. Fuck, why the hell did he even care? This was Angel, the kid could handle himself, and Husk would be a damn fool to criticise a sinner for getting high. And yet here he was. Pissed off, unsettled and worst of all: worried about him.

Angel opened his mouth, ready to spout whatever bullshit he had ready to defend himself from the insult, but Husk held up a hand to silence him. Fuck it, if he was going to care about this stupid kid, he wasn’t going to half-ass it. “Don’t try your shit with me. It ain’t gonna fly this time.” He crossed him arms firmly, meeting Angel’s hazy eyes with a steady, piercing stare. “I’ve seen you fucked up every which way, kid, but I ain’t seen you this far gone. So let’s try this again- the fuck did you take?”

“I ain’t took nothin’, Husk,” Angel sighed. There was a softness to his voice, something almost believable. He dropped his head into two of his hands, covering his face as the other set sprawled out across the bar. His voice was slow and thick. “Well, nothin’ I ain’t used to. I went out drinkin’ after work. It was a long shoot, okay?” The softness gave way to irritation, like a child receiving a scolding as he looked up from his hands with a scowl. “What, I need your permission or somethin’? There’s other bars in Hell, ya know.”

“Not ones you get to drink for free at.” Husk retorted, and Angel let out a sharp, cold laugh.

“Oh, please. That’s cute, Husk, but in case ya forgot, I’m kinduva big deal round these parts. You think THE Angel Dust pays for his own drinks?” Angel jabbed a finger at his chest and gestured towards his body with his other arms, threatening to lose his balance and come face to face with the floor for the second time that night.

“So, you’re tellin’ me you got in this mess from boozin’ with lowlifes?” Husk scoffed. “I ain’t tryna insult you, legs, but ain’t that your idea of havin’ a quiet one?”

Angel’s eyes narrowed as he steadied himself on the bar, fingers curling against the hardwood. “Yeah, Husk, and I’ll thank ya to quit it with the third fuckin’ degree already. What, ya jealous I ain’t drinkin’ with you? I’m here now, so pour me one already.”

Husk let out a quiet humph that could almost be considered a laugh, amused at the idea that Angel thought there was any way in Hell he’d give him more alcohol, but pulled a glass out from under the bar all the same. “Kid, I’m just lookin’ out for you,” he said matter-of-factly, refusing to be affected by Angel’s irritation. “Like I said, you look fuckin’ terrible.” He pushed the now-filled glass towards Angel, who scoffed at this remark.

“Please! Ain’t no way, kitty. Besides, you don’t know me. What makes you think-” he stopped dead, raising an eyebrow at the glass in front of him before fixing Husk with a withering glare.

“What the shit is this?”

“Water. Drink it.”

As though a switch had flicked, Angel’s annoyance mutated into his usual choreographed flirtation.

“Aww, Husky! You’re taking care of me!” he crooned, reaching a hand across the bar to heavy-handedly caress one of Husk’s wings, his intoxicated state blunting his usual suaveness when it came to flirting. “Well, how about we take this to your bedroom, baby? Maybe you can... take care of me some more in there.”

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Husk couldn’t hold in the flurry of rage at being groped by the idiot he was trying to help. He had limited tolerance for Angel’s bullshit on a good day, and this pushed him over the edge. “Even in the fucking mess you’re in, you still won’t give it up?!”

Angel’s eyes were wide but unreadable. Husk steadied himself with a deep breath, fighting the surge of anger that wanted him to tell Angel to drop the fucking act, that he was embarrassing himself with this ridiculous charade. Did that incoherent shithead really think he was the type of guy to take someone this wasted to bed? The anger simmered down as he thought about the types of guys Angel was used to being with, and he let out a deep sigh through still-gritted teeth.

“Let me get one thing clear: I ain’t one of your scumbag drinking buddies who wanna get you all nice and lathered up to do god knows what to ya. And even if I was dumb enough to play into your goddamn games – you’re plastered, kid. I ain’t going nowhere near you.”

Angel rolled his eyes, as if the concern for his wellbeing was boring him. “Husk, you think I ever fucked sober?” he said dryly. “Not in Hell or Earth, sunshine. You don’t do the work I do without somethin’ to take the edge off,” he paused, a flicker of something real gracing his expression as he broke Husk’s gaze. “And hey, some jag off puts a little extra somethin’ in my drink, I ain’t sayin’ no. Free drugs, ain’t it?” His laugh had a shaky edge, less believable.

Husk looked at Angel, dumbfounded. For a moment, he said absolutely nothing, processing this information before blurting out densely, “What, you got spiked?”

Angel scoffed, throwing his hands up in a mocking cheer. “Aaaand he hits the jackpot!” he slurred. “Guess the wise old bartender ain’t so wised up after all. Yes, dumbass, I got spiked.”

“And what, you knew? And drank it anyway?” The hair raised on the back of Husk’s neck.

“Husk, I’ve been in the game a long time,” Angel said flatly. “I can handle it. That shit barely makes a dent anymore. Sonuvabitch knew it to, the way he kept ‘em comin’.” The laugh that followed was jarring, like silk sheets on a spent mattress.

Husk could not fathom a response, but Angel kept going.

“Y’know, he probably paid top dolla for whatever the fuck he was usin’ too,” he laughed idly. “Spent it all on little ol’ me. I’d be flattered if the handsy bastard wasn’t such a goddamn bore. I’ve had better conversations with a brick wall, I’m telling ya.” He spoke about it so casually, as though recalling a funny anecdote. “Probably thought I’d pass out after the first one. Sorry, baby, but I’m a pro. You shoulda prepared more conversation than “hey, you’re the guy from “Three Dicks, One Hole”, can you really do that with your-”

“Angel, are you okay?”

Husk felt his stomach tighten as Angel’s nonchalant facade was shaken by his remark of genuine, honest concern. He couldn’t help it, he couldn’t bear to listen to this. He hated how pathetic he felt in these moments, when the weight of Angel’s chains felt almost as heavy as his own.

Angel’s gaze dropped to the glass of water he’d yet to touch, as though shielding himself from the bartender’s penetrating eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that Husk.”

“Like what? Like I’m worried about you?”

“Like ya feel sorry for me. I can handle myself, okay? This is my scene, these are my people. I do what I gotta do.” The grit had returned to his voice, warning Husk to back off.

Husk ignored his instincts and walked out from behind the bar and took the bar stool next to Angel. He wasn’t going to let this slide.

“If that guy hurt you-”

“Christ, Husk! You’re the one that keeps tellin’ me I’m a wreck! My head’s in pieces, I don’t need this right now.” The sharp, warning tone in Angel’s voice finally cracked with a defeated sigh, and he looked down at the bar. He looked so small in this moment, so... not Angel Dust. It was like Husk was seeing a completely different person. Angel didn’t look up from the bar as he spoke.

“If that guy got a piece a’ me, he’d be the latest in a long fuckin’ line of ‘em. Not like I remember anyway.”

He gave Husk a wry smile. “Hey, whatcha don’t know can’t hurt ya, right?”

Jesus. Husk took a deep breath and prepared himself for the usual sick avoidance he felt when Angel was at his most real and raw, but something within him forced a new kind of steadiness. The pain written across Angel’s face was taste Husk usually found all too sour, but this time the bitter flavour was his own. Was he really such a fucking coward? He was a goddamn bartender, he listened to people bitch and moan all day long but being there for a friend was all too much? This kid needed someone, and despite it all, despite everything Husk thought he knew about himself, he cared. And as much as that scared the ever loving shit out of him, he wasn’t going to turn away this time. He was going to follow Angel into that darkness if it meant he would have someone there with him.

Finally, Husk let out a sigh and stood up. “Alright kid, let’s get you to bed.”

“Thought you’d never ask, Husky,” Angel drawled, following suit and standing, only to tumble forward face-first into Husk, who caught him with an air of expectancy. Angel caught Husk’s shoulders as he leaned against the shorter demon, who’s hands were now holding Angel up by the waist in an attempt to steady him. Husk peered up at the sudden look of surprise on the demon’s face. There was that vulnerability, that gleam of something real that darted out from the shadows before Angel inevitably caught on and stuffed it right back down inside. For the first time, Husk decided to savour it, knowing he only had a fraction of a second before The Angel Dust Show resumed.

Only it didn’t.

Angel’s eyes were wide with unexpected emotion. It was hard to describe what Husk was seeing – was it tenderness? Fragility? Fear? He only had a moment to contemplate this cocktail of emotion before Angel’s face was buried into his shoulder, two sets of arms clutching him fiercely in a hug that felt hungry and longing. Despite Husk’s efforts to keep the lanky demon upright, Angel dropped to his knees, his impressive height allowing for him to pull Husk parallel against him in this position while his head remained fixed to the crook of Husk’s neck. Angel clung to Husk like a child to their mother, as though the desperation for soft and gentle affection was suddenly too much for him to bear. Tentative at first, Husk allowed himself to pull Angel a little closer, one hand cradling the back of the demon’s head, thumb brushing against his tangled hair. The frenzied tension of Angel’s grasp and the automatic rigidity that came over Husk when faced with affection both began to subside, and the moment morphed from a frantic, unexpected plea for something tender, into equally unexpected tenderness itself. The lull was thick and heavy, as though draped in velvet, and a sudden awareness of just how close the two demons were gave Husk a hesitant, heady thrill. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d held someone like this.

Angel was the one to finally peel back from their embrace, and as he did, Husk felt the cold breeze brush over a wet patch of fur on his shoulder. His stomach twisted in knots as he realised Angel had been crying. The spider demon furiously dragged a gloved forearm across his face, trying fruitlessly to hide the obvious. Husk looked away sheepishly.

“C’mon. Let’s go.”

With that, Husk scooped Angel up into his arms bridal-style and began carrying him towards the stairs. “Christ, you ain’t as dainty as you look, legs.”

Angel let out a yelp of surprise. “Husk, what the hell are ya doing?”

“Getting you to bed. What, you think you can take on the stairs? That’s real funny, kid. You can’t even stand.” Husk’s tone was mocking, but warm.

Angel’s initial shock dissipated. He felt the exhaustion of the day begin to catch up with him as his aching body savoured the blessing of being whisked off his feet. His arms wound around Husk’s neck as he sank his head into his chest. “Alright, alright. Just don’t fuckin’ drop me, dickbag.”

Husk could tell he was trying to sound annoyed, but the slur of the poison and the softness of incoming sleep blunted the sharp edges of his usual tough talk. A smile toyed with the edge of Husk’s lips.

“I ain’t gonna drop ya,” he smirked. “Make no mistake though, you ain’t no small feat. You might be all legs and arms, but you’re still an 8 foot sack a’ potatoes.”

“Fuck you, whiskers,” Angel managed to mumble, followed by a string of incoherent nonsense that his sleep-addled mind mistook for a killer comeback.

Husk smiled, trudging up the stairs with Angel. “Yeah, yeah. I know,” he replied mindlessly. It would be almost cute, the way Angel was falling asleep in his arms, if it weren’t a result of the heavy dose of sedatives finally kicking in. Yeah, that was it, Husk reminded himself. Got nothing to do with the gentle moment they shared, or perhaps a sense of safety he felt in Husk’s arms. It was just the drugs. That was all.

Angel was almost fully passed out by the time Husk reached his door, and he felt himself wince as he watched Angel drifting into unconsciousness and wondered if this perhaps wasn’t the first time he’d passed out tonight. It wasn’t like Husk wasn’t used to the cruel nuances of Hell: he’d seen things – done things – that would stay burned into his mind for as long as he existed down here. But the innocence of the demon sleeping in his arms, the innocence that was taken from him over and over again until he simply signed it away... that cut deep. It made him feel sick. He knew the pain of being a victim of circumstance, of being someone’s unwilling pet. It was a fucking horror show.

“It’s your stop, kid,” Husk spoke softly, rousing the spider demon from his slumber as he stood outside Angel’s door. It was adorned with neon pink lights and cheerful photographs with friends.

Angel looked up, bleary-eyed. “Huh? Oh. Hey, Husky,” he looked around, realising where he was, and began to shuffle in Husk’s arms in an attempt to get down. Husk gave him a stern look.

“Sure you can stand?”

“Oh, yeah. Not that I don’t love ya big strong arms around me, whiskers, but think I can manage the couple steps between the door and the bed, capisce?”

Unconvinced, Husk kept Angel’s arm fastened around his shoulder as he stumbled towards the bed, where Fat Nuggets lay curled up in one of Angel’s fluffy pieces of clothing, unbothered by the kerfuffle.

“There ya go,” Husk groaned, half-launching Angel towards the bed, where he collapsed inelegantly in a heap next to his sleeping pet, who was abruptly awoken by the disturbance and squealed happily at the sight of his mama. Angel chuckled softly as the pig settled into his lap, a sound Husk had never heard him make before, followed by soft cooing as he showered the pig in affection.

“Who’s mama’s special boy? That’s right, you are! Yes, you’re my special lil’ guy, aren’t you Nuggsie? Aren’t you my special lil’ guy?”

It was almost sickeningly cute, Husk thought, although this was promptly interrupted by a flush of embarrassment as he noticed Angel start to fiddle with the buttons of his shirt. He looked away hotly. Should he go now? He’d done his part, there was no need for him to be here when he-

“Hey, give me a hand here, will ya?”

Fuck.

Angel was fumbling uselessly with the last button of his blazer, clearly unable to get it to cooperate. After a moment of hesitation that felt far longer than it actually was, Husk sighed and sat down on the bed. His eyes fixed on the button and the button alone with exaggerated intensity, made all the more comical by his flushed cheeks, and with one swift movement the blazer fell open. Husk’s eyes found a spot on the bed to focus on intently and his blush grew darker. Angel cackled.

“Husk, their ain’t a sinner in Hell that hasn’t seen me take my clothes off. Now, quit bein’ a gentleman and grab me that nightshirt, ya prude,” he gave Husk a playful shove as he pointed out his pyjamas.

With a grumble, Husk swung his legs over the bed and leaned to grab the purple oversized shirt hanging off the spider’s vanity. Still averting his gaze, he handed it to Angel, who shrugged off his blazer and pulled the nightshirt over himself clumsily, before shimmying off his miniskirt.

“You need help with the boots?” Husk stuttered out. God, this was awkward. The way that Angel seemed to be lapping up his discomfort like the cat who got the cream made it 10 times worse.

“Nah. I got it. Who woulda known you were such a Prince Charming, Husky? Ain’t ya just my knight in shining armour.” Angel was still slurring but his voice was sweet and sing-songy, drinking in the effect he was having on Husk. Their eyes met for a fraction of a second as Angel started to roll down his boots, and a sudden flicker of bashfulness tinted Angel’s expression.

“Uh, do ya mind? I kinda got a thing about my feet.”

Husk couldn’t even stifle his laugh as he turned away diligently. “You’re kidding. The whole of Hell’s seen every inch of you in every position you could dream of but you’re shy about your feet?”

“Hey. Everyone’s got their hang ups, don’t they?” Angel said huffily, kicking his boots off the rest of the way and pulling the duvet around him. “You can look now. I’m decent.”

“If I turn around and you’re naked, I’m telling Charlie to give us another one of those sexual harassment lectures you love so much.” Husk muttered, relieved as he turned to see Angel cocooned in his duvet, Fat Nuggets wedged contentedly under his chin. His eyes were fluttering, looking ready to pass out. Husk smiled involuntarily, taking one long, last glance at Angel Dust before turning to leave him. “Goodnight, kid.”

Just as Husk reached for the door handle, a hushed voice stopped him dead.

“Husk?”

It was spoken like a question, with a strangled urgency that made Husk spin back around with dizzying intensity. Angel was propped up on his elbows, jump-started awake by a sharp jolt of obvious fear.

“Stay.”

Husk opened his mouth uselessly, having no inkling of a response in mind, but he was swiftly unburdened of this responsibility as Angel spoke again.

“Not... not like that.”

Husk cringed that Angel even felt the need to make that distinction: it was obvious from the demon’s distress that – for once – it wasn’t sex that he was propositioning. He sat forward rigidly, hugging his knees to his chest, eyes fixed downward.

“Just... stay. Please, Husk.” His voice was heart-wrenchingly small as he choked out his final confession.

“I don’t wanna be alone.”

Swallowing down the visceral pain in his gut at yet another unforgiving glimpse of reality and chasing it with a heavy sigh, Husk trudged back over to the demon’s bed and sat down beside him. He spoke gently, but firmly, “I’m not going anywhere.”

He could practically feel Angel relax at this affirmation. His eyes closed once more as he slid down against the pillow, nestling into a comfortable position. “Thanks, Husky.” His voice was thick with sleep, a smile just barely teasing the corner of his mouth. To Husk’s surprise, a hand slipped out from beneath the covers and his fingers were interlocked with Angel’s before he could say anything. A shiver of defensiveness ran up his spine at the tenderness of the situation. It was sweet, it was intoxicating, it was inviting. It was unlike anything he’d felt in life or death. Was it worth the risk, allowing himself to acknowledge this softness? To look this sentiment square in the face, knowing it meant he could get chewed up and spat out in more ways than he could imagine? He held his cards close to his chest, he always had, but what good was that if not even he knew what he was holding?

He glanced at the demon next to him and his mind immediately muted, the sight of Angel fast asleep, hand still in his, turning down the volume on his deafening thoughts. He didn’t have to know what this was, what it meant. This was all it had to be for now. This was all that mattered. He gave Angel’s hand a reassuring squeeze as he let himself sink back into the pillows, smiling a little at the sight of his friend sleeping peacefully beside him.

“Goodnight, Angel.”

A/N: This is the first fanfic I've written since I was literally a teenager so I hope this holds up! Hazbin and HuskerDust in particular has me in a chokehold, so naturally I spent more time and effort writing this than I did on any of my uni work this year. There are going to be more chapters of this (god willing) so stay tuned! I'm not on ao3 unfortunately so keep an eye out on here if you're wanting more, I'm a slow writer though so don't expect anything for a while. Hope you enjoyed! 🪩

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[kenphobia]

may I ask some frank x eddie but if you don't write about character x character can make poly relationship headcanon with male reader?

happy late or early b-day btw 👍

A CARD OF LOVERS!

"Alex play butterfly by smile.dk."

summary. it wasn't a secret that frank and eddie are the fruitest fruits in town, but what if we add another one in that bowl? (headcanons. read author's note at the end)

contents. absolute fluff, possibly ooc, separated headcanons (one for chr x chr, one for chr x reader x chr), polyamorous relationship, easter eggs from other welcome home fics

FRANK X EDDIE!

✦ Frank and Eddie, two completely opposites in personality and even so, they make a strangely good and iconic duo. They'd say that they never see them becoming lovers but that would be a terrible lie. They were the most fruitest— pardon my french —motherfuckers in the neighborhood.

✦ Now, Frank and Eddie are both independent and secretive people. Having to live on their own for a long time caused them to become a bit recluse and prefer to do things on their own rather than trusting people to help them. It was a bit rocky at first, having to navigate the simplest things like who gets to cook for dinner and which chores would the other do, but they managed in the end.

✦ The two of them even made a timetable for what chores they'll do each day and made a promise not to get in each other's way when the other is busy.

✦ Now, Eddie was sweet, a bit too sweet for Frank's own liking. It took a while for the monotonous puppet to get used to getting random hugs and kisses throughout the day, even the short love letters stuck on the fridge with the heart magnets on them became a normal occurence for him.

As Frank put another pancake down on his lover plate, He felt a pair of large, soft arms suddenly wrapping around his waist. He shivered at the hot breath caressing his cheeks as Eddie leaned against his slender form, hiding his face in the crook of Frank's neck.

Frank sighed, smiling softly. "Good morning, Eddie." He patted his lover's hand, signalling him to let go. Eddie didn't follow and only hugged him tighter, mumbling something under his breath.

"I love you too, Eddie. But can I get my waist back?" Frank patted his hand again.

"Mm... No."

✦ Frank was never the one for physical touch. Not that he didn't like it, no, but he was too stiff, too awkward to even initiate the simplest hand-holding, so he opts for the alternative: quality time and gift-giving. Little handcrafted butterfly pins and accessories aligned Eddie's bag strap and hat; matching custom-made rings on both of their hands; and countless papers of written down date ideas filled Frank's binders— that was Frank's idea of affection and Eddie loved it.

✦ Whenever Eddie comes across someone, he'd flex all of the wonderful handmade crafts Frank made for him, flaunting the ring in front of any neighbors that tried flirting with him. It made Frank's plush heart swell, nearly punching air when Eddie refers to him as his husband.

✦ Both of Eddie and Frank are incredible fans of nature, so their dates consist of walks in the woods, picnics and such. They're always rarring to go and be one with nature just for a while, but they try not to stray too far from the town because, well, there isn't much that lies beyond their little circle.

✦ Although, when the days are getting colder or when it's almost impossible to go outside, they'd huddle up on the couch and Eddie would narrate one of Frank's or his favorite books. Sometimes, they'd watch TV but there isn't anything worth watching on it.

✦ Even though they have seperate cooking days, one of them is bound to assisting the other in cooking. Eddie would turn on the radio and have Frank indulge in a little dance break while the cookies bake in the oven.

"You look quite divine tonight," Eddie sang along the tune of the radio, holding Frank's hand in his own as he twirled him around the kitchen isle. "Here among these vibrant lights!"

Frank yelped, eyes widening for a second as Eddie dipped him, his grip on the monotonous puppet's waist was firm but gentle. Frank took a breath, smelling the vanilla and jasmine scent on Eddie's shirt as the latter pulled him up. "How charming." Frank commented, rolling his eyes.

Eddie smiled, pecking a tender kiss on the corner of Frank's lips. "I know I am." He boasted, his collars was tugged and his lips crashed on Frank's, he could taste the bittersweet chocolate he had given to his husband (Although they weren't actually married, but gays will be gays).

As they pulled away, both of them had blazing red faces, warmth seeping to their fingertips and cheeks. Frank lets go, slapping his palms on his face. "Gosh, that was so embarrassing." He groaned into his hands.

It took some time for Eddie to snap out of the kiss before wrapping his arms around Frank, grinning and swooning like a teenage girl who just had her first kiss. "Aww, I didn't know you had that in you, Frankie!!"

"Eddie, please—"

✦ Random, unprecedented thought: Eddie would definitely call Frank 'My little butterfly' and sing that song we all used to hear from our plastic barbie filp phones whenever Eddie's in a fun, little mood. The reason is, as always, up to the reader's interpretations <3

FRANK X READER X EDDIE!

✦ Eddie and Frank are new to relationships, having little to no exprience in such things and you might as well be the same. If you have some experience— especially in polyamorous relationships —then, you can bet the two of them will mostly likely turn to you when situations regarding it arise.

✦ Like any relationship, communication is key, and Eddie and Frank are more than just willing to try polyamorous a try. There isn't exactly a reason why they were drawn to you, perhaps it's because of your personality, your skills or whatee, but you caught their eye and there is no way in Satan's living quarters you're escaping them.

✦ But of course, if you aren't sure with the whole situation, they'll give you some space and time to think about it. No matter what your choice is, they'll understand you and respect your decisions. Strange since literal puppets have more decency than most humans, but oh well.

✦ They'll also walk you through their schedule. Frank does more of the talking while Eddie sometimes comments and adds a few things that Frank forgot to mention. In the end, the schedule didn't matter much since all of you put equal work and often assist each other in their chores.

✦ Sleepovers aren't uncommon, in fact it happens almost every day of the week! You guys stay at either Frank's or your house, huddled up on a bed that's conveniently large enough for all three of you. Sometimes, you guys chose to set up a cute pillow fort and sleep there in peace until one of you kicks the supporting pillow and it all crashes down on you.

✦ Frank is surprisingly a messy sleeper.

✦ You guys get to have individual dates, of course! But the guilt of leaving one of you behind consumes you just a minute before your date, so it ends up with just all three.

✦ Frank loves to flaunt off his collection to you, feeling a sense of pride swelling in his chest whenever you compliment the crafted butterflies he carefully painted and organized for many straining hours or appreciate his intensive knowledge on insects. Sometimes, you two just spend bouncing mindless information you have consumed on hours without end until something or somwone interrupts your little session.

"And this one!" Frank pointed to a page on his book, more specifically an picture of a butterfly with bright orange wings and black vein-like patterns. "This one is a monarch butterfly. Scientists calls them Danaus plexippus, which in Greek literally means "sleepy transformation." It references the species' ability to hibernate and metamorphize. It's not exactly my favorite species of butterfly, but they are interesting."

"I suppose so, yeah." You nodded, having your head supported by your hands as you leaned closer to get a better view at the image. You, then, thought deeply and nugged Frank's arm for his attention. "Say, why don't we go out to the forest and search for some? I heard from a little star that there's a hotspot for colorful butterflies."

Frank raised a brow, his interest piqued. "Hm, I suppose we can go only if we invite Eddie. He has a better sense of direction than I am so..."

You rolled your eyes playfully, knowing full well that he wanted to bring the sweet mailman along was because he feels guilty of leaving him behind. "Whatever you say, my little butterfly."

"(Name), please. Not you too."

✦ On the other hand, Eddie enjoys taking you on walks, especially on days where you're stressed and need some relaxation. He also enjoys talking with you over some good lunch, sharing his experiences with you as a mailman. Eddie is a touchy person, so he also likes to spend his time with you cuddling. He's the big spoon most of the time but he loves being little spoon, he wouldn't admit it though.

"Wait, wait, wait!" You paused Eddie's little tangent, your brain processing the story he ahd told you before he went on about the history of mailboxes. "They managed to pull out Julie's mailbox and dragged it all the way to the pond?"

Eddie chuckled, pulling you closer to his figure. You can feel vibrations coming from his chest as he laughed. "Yeah! It sounds unreal but if you take a look at the dirt near Julie's place, it looks like something was dugged up and then buried again."

"Dear lord, what kind of food are they eating?" You shivered at your own visual interpretation of the scenario. Must be distraughting for Julie and her poor mailbox.

"A dozen of eggs, at least." Eddie shrugged, his entire being melting into the sofa. At this point, you can consider him a part of it from how soft and warm his arms feel.

A moment of silence pass before you finally spoke up to break it. "Anyways, wanna be little spoon and continue your story?"

"Yes please!"

author's note. hi hii!!! tysm for requesting, i hope this is okay <33 i'm not well versed with Eddie's character but I do know a bit of Frank since weirdly enough, i kin him. but ty for the birthday greeting!! my birthday was actually 2 months ago (feb 3) but even so, i appreciate it :DD

i also have another frank x reader x eddie coming up but yandere 👀 so be on a look for that!! anyways— likes, reblogs, etc are appreciated! my inbox is always open, so feel free to request or just drop by <33

#writing log! #welcome home x reader #welcome home #frank frankly x reader #eddie dear x reader

[st311ar]

Protective Redson x GN! Reader

Genre: Fluff

CW: Creepers (of the human verity)

summary?: Redson is getting car-parts while you stop for food at a grocery store.

Of course, out of any night, it was Friday Redson was shopping for replacement car parts, and you were stuck grocery shopping late at night without him. You didn’t blame him, of course. The poor guy had a stained windshield that stunk like chicken broth every time it got over 80° outside. Not to mention he had to melt two full car windshields to fit his “blood fire”, as he named his prized car.

but none the less, you couldn’t not help him. Yes he was a bit of a brat here and there, but when he gets all sappy when you two were alone, it makes up for his “asshole-ness”. You can’t blame him though. Sometimes some things just get on your nerves and well…they get on his much harder.

Just as you headed into the drinks section though, you noticed a quite drunk looking individual spot you. Must be from one of the clubs down south… you think to yourself. The person dosen’t seem too drunk, but just enough you can tell they had a bit too much. You grab you Sunny’s fruit punch Gatorade and make your way out of the isle…but then the individual follows you. You think nothing of it at first, since they were drunk and all, they could just be aimlessly wondering, and coincidentally followed you…

right?

just in case, your body sends shivers down your spine, making you jitter a bit as you went to get Redson’s spicy Doritos that he really wanted.

The person proceeded to follow you again.

okay, now was the time to get nervous. You picked out Sunny’s chips, and set them In the basket, pulling out your phone to text him.

“Sunny”

“love somebody is following me”

is all you could type before you felt a hand on your shoulder, and the sickening smell of alcohol enter your lungs. You almost gagged at how strong it was.

“Scuse me, but you seem lost~” the following individual spoke In a husky tone. Oh this was not good. Now despite years of being told how to deal with such an encounter like this one, your fear has you frozen, and basically unable to do anything the second they aproached you. “Well, I’m not, thank you…” you managed to say. The drunken individual scoffed, giving a small laugh, “You sure about that sweet-cheeks?”

you internally cringed so hard it would’ve been physical In a normal setting. You figured you could try to walk away, since that was the easiest option here. But as you tried, they grabbed your shoulder again, more forcefully. “Ah-Ah-ah, where do you think you’re going sweetheart~?”

this was it. You had had it with this stupid drunk dude, and you debated punching them, right when the intercom kicked on.

sounds of fighting and arguing we’re heard, before your favorite voice kicked on over the com,

“If somebody could PLEASE get that ugly peasant off of MY girlfriend?” Redson sounded esteemdly annoyed, right as the intercom turned off, and you instantly heard running stomps from the other side of the store.

The person stopped to glare at you, and just as their fist was riled up, “YOU.” Oh sunny was fuming. You could feel the heat of his fire from over here, and that wasn’t a thing that could happen every day.

“Get your hands off of them before I come over there and burn them off for you.” He growled. The individual promptly did as followed, and stumbled over as Redson shoved them aside into the racks. He cupped your face In his hands, checking for injury “oh- Love! Love- did they hurt you?!” Well that was one hell of a mood swing. “no…” you murmured, a bit embarrassed by Sunny’s pampering.

“Come on, love. We can get groceries later…” Redson gave one last death stare to your attacker, and gently linked your arm with his.

Slowly, you both made your way to the parking garage that his truck was In. He helped you In, and shut his door behind him, letting out a dramatic sigh. “I’m so sorry love…i shouldn’t have just left you there when you could be hurt…” Redson looked oddly guilty. But then again, around you, he did soften up a bit.

“Love- no…It’s fine- it happens…” You try to reassure him, but oddly enough, her looks like he’s about to cry.

“Love if my phone wasn’t charged you’d be left alone with that- that creep!” He appeared to be trying his damndest not to cry, but it just wasn’t working, so instead, you wrapped your arms around him.

“it’s okay…love, my phone was charged…i could’ve easily called the police…” this information seemed to let sunny relax a bit, but he didn’t finish crying until about a whole five minutes later. He pulled up with a sniffle, and sighed. “Right…” he murmured. He looked out his stained windsheild, and sighed. “Well…let’s get home…aaaand I can make you some s’mores…how’s about that?” He turned to you with a slightly exited smile.

You smiled back, and turned to him, giving him a small kiss. “That sounds wonderful.”

#redson #lmk redson #lmk #redson x reader #redsonlmk #gn! reader #writing #fanfiction #character x reader

[cookinguptales]

time to shill for Big Salt!!!

Okay, so like I said in my last post, I recently became a ~Vitassium Ambassador~, which is a fancy way of saying that I shilled for this company for free for so long that now they're paying me to do it.

In salt. Much like a deer.

Anyway.

Vitassium is SaltStick's line of products specifically for POTS, EDS, Cystic Fibrosis, Vasovagal Syncope, and other forms of autonomic dysfunction. Essentially speaking, SaltStick has been making electrolyte products for years, and when they realized that a lot of their patients buying them were doing it for medical reasons, they started doing research into creating products specifically for that purpose. And that's how the Vitassium line was born.

Vitassium generally has more salt and less magnesium/calcium/potassium than SaltStick's other electrolyte products, which is good if you need a lot of salt and you don't want to take too high a dose of the rest. Personally, I tend to use a mixture of both of their lines so I can get a little calcium/magnesium boost sometimes but more salt other times. (The amount of potassium is fairly similar in both lines, with a little more in the SaltStick line.)

Either way, it has a lot less sugar than Liquid IV, which I get sick off of due to sugar sensitivities. Like... *googles* 11g of sugar in Liquid IV vs. 2g of sugar in Vitassium, with the same amount of salt in each serving. I have to be pretty careful about my sugar intake, and I suppose I can't speak for everyone, but my stomach handles Vitassium a lot better than most of the other alternatives on the market.

So I've been using it for several years now and I'm really happy with their products! Like -- I may now officially be a shill for Big Salt, but I don't plan on lying or exaggerating anything here. I use their products every day, and sometimes that's the only way I can manage to take a shower.

(My fellow POTS/EDS-sufferers know, the shower struggle is real. lmao)

Anyway, they just sent me one of everything in their Vitassium line. They didn't actually ask me to show it off, but I'm doing it anyway because this is my blog and I cannot be stopped.

From left to right, we have a bottle of their electrolyte capsules (these are sugar-free extended-release salt pills with a bit of potassium added), both flavors of their electrolyte fastchews (chewable electrolyte candies that provide quick relief... think salty sweettarts), a cute bottle full of packets of their electrolyte drink mix, sample packs of the fastchews, and some stickers.

Personally, I mostly use the fastchews. I've tried salt capsules in the past and had some stomach upset, but now that they sent these to me for free, I guess I'll try them out again. The fastchews are basically sour candy full of salt lmao. (They also have about 2g of sugar per serving, just like the drink mix.) They really are effective, though, so I tend to take them as needed throughout the day.

I usually just keep a bottle of them in my purse, but the sample size bags are resealable and fit well in pockets, bags, etc. I'm happy that they sent me some little sample bags because now I can refill them, haha.

I used to just buy the normal SaltStick fastchews, and my go-to flavors in that line are orange, wild berry, and lemon-lime! I haven't tried the mango because I'm allergic, the peach is okay if very sour, the coconut pineapple is a nice piña colada taste but a little sweet for me, and I really hate the watermelon ones!

(Look, I promised to be honest with you. lmao)

The Vitassium fastchews are newer, and they only come in two flavors so far. I always buy the fruit punch because I despise artificial grape flavor. They just gave me a bunch of grape ones, so I tried them. Good for what they are, but I still hate grape.

(Do any of my chronically ill followers want these? lmk)

The drink mix is the newest Vitassium product! I like it quite a bit; the relief is quicker when you drink it vs. eat it, and speaking as someone who generally hates drink mixes, the flavor is pretty good.

I've tried both the fruit punch and the pink lemonade, and I think I prefer the pink lemonade. The flavor suits the salt a little better, imo, and I think weirdly it mixes a little better?

I usually buy the drink mix in the canisters because it's cheaper that way and produces less waste (the canister pictured there is one I already had) but the packets are very handy to keep in your bag. They're easy to tear open and even when you tear off the whole top, the opening is small enough that it pours smoothly into small-necked bottles. I like to put some ice in mine and shake it up.

(Side note: Vitassium has specifically designed all their packaging to be as easy to open and use as possible because they know that so many of their customers have arthritis, EDS, and other connective tissue disorders. Which, as someone with EDS, I truly appreciate.)

Finally, one thing I genuinely like about Vitassium is that they try to make their products as accessible as possible for their customers who use them for medical reasons. They have something called the Vitassium Club, which allows registered users who have a medical condition to get 25% off all their electrolyte products. You don't have to get a doctor's note or anything like that, just send in a quick online form and wait for them to change the status of your account.

That brings the cost of the product down considerably for the people who need it most, which is good because honestly? Electrolyte boosters add up fast when you need to consume that much salt every day.

Uhhhh, I think that's everything for now! If you have any questions, lmk! I'm fairly passionate about this kind of thing because when I was first diagnosed with POTS/EDS like... god, 15 years ago now, they didn't have anything like this. I remember struggling to develop a diet that worked for me with no one to teach me and honestly? That fucking sucked. I don't want anyone to be in that position.

So now here in 2023, I'm happy to pass on any chronic illness-related tips I have. Like drink Vitassium! And add salt while you're cooking, not at the end! The flavor will be less strong that way! And a packet of sugar-free hot cocoa mix will often have as much sodium in it as a bag of chips!

Stay salty, friends. 🧂💜😎

#they asked me what would make me a good shill for Big Salt #and I told them that I know a lot about the use of salt in apotropaic magic #and somehow they still put me in the program #so... there's that. lmao #vitassium #pots #postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome #vasovagal syncope #ehlers danlos syndrome #cystic fibrosis #long post

[smokeahontas7]

Botany

pairing: (pre-ellie)!Joel Miller x OFC!Juliette Dacre

summary: Joel meets Juliette and finds small moments of restitution and peace for himself through helping her tend to a secret community garden that helps people from starving in the QZ.

a/n: i'm gonna place this as pre ellie, a few weeks before Tommy leaves the Boston QZ. i don't know much about the video game but i did my research don't come for me. tess is involved but not painted in bad light, mostly added for razzle dazzle. i use ofc because writing 'you' pov is hard for me. juliette in my head is native american/mexican, bc i'm native american/mexican lol but there isn't any super body descriptions of her. this will be a pre/post outbreak short series it's kinda romantic kinda smutty definitely self indulgent

warnings: MINORS DO NOT ENAGE: slow burn, there will be smut i promise, age gap (ofc is in her late 20's), implied mentions of sex work, poisoning, brief details of death/murder/drowning, not quite smut at the end but still a warning for heavy make outs anyway, not like a warning but an fyi for those who don't know, gruñon is spanish for grumpy which is like her nickname for Joel, that is all lol

botany ch. 2 here!

"You gonna keep draggin' ass or can we get home sometime soon ? Gonna get dark."

"Just wait a minute."

Tommy stood at the front of the abandoned hardware store, impatiently awaiting his brother who seemed to be dragging them out of their way lately. Joel disregarded him entirely and continued his search, reaching the back of the dusty store and finally finding a single box of latex gloves. He shoved the crumbled box in his pack and hurriedly joined his brother outside the store where the sun was just about setting, both Tess and Tommy giving him looks of irritation, but he didn't seem to mind as they headed back to the Boston QZ.

"You're kinda' sweet on that girl, don'tcha' think?" Tommy said after a awhile of walking, loving to twist the knife when it came to teasing his brother.

"Shut up." Joel insisted through his teeth, delivering a swift punch to his arm.

"You do go out of your way for that princess a lot." Tess added, he silently cursed Tommy with his eyes.

"I don't go out of my way... She keeps that secret garden. She feeds people,"

"She makes medicine, she helps the community," Tess mockingly completed a sentence he had used in his defense before, catching eyes with him before his darted down to his boots.

"But you are sweet on her. That's why you go out of your way." Tommy teased again.

"I told Ben I'd look out for her.. and you guys did too. That's what I'm doin'."

The mention of their former friend Ben seemed to quiet everyone up, not much said afterwards as they sat with the truth. Ben Dacre and his daughter Juliette helped sustain hundreds of people in the QZ with their homemade fish traps in the river just outside the walls, and their secret garden that grew all different varieties of natural herbs, fruits, and vegetables. Ben had started trading with the group, food and natural medicine in exchange for their protection. If it was ever to be tipped off to FEDRA about what they were doing, Ben requested they get Juliette somewhere safe and let him take the hanging, for his daughter would have all the means and intelligence to start a new garden over again on her own if she continued to have a trading connection in them. The man passed away just as he predicted, and it was Joel who got Juliette to a small apartment with access to a wooded area nearby. Over time he had helped her restore and tend to over half the garden to its originally glory, it was something they had grown close over, as Tommy and Tess were more about finding seeds and seeking gardening supplies for them.

Juliette was fairly good at sustaining herself and mostly stayed out of trouble. She was as charismatic as she was lovely, easily 20 years younger than him, and often catching the eye of young FEDRA agents and other men who lingered too long, came on too strong, in Joel's opinion. She was helpful to him in ways too, checking his traps for him and habitually delivering the catches perfectly cleaned, cut, and gutted. She gave him all the clothes and boots and other manly essentials her father didn't need after he passed. Sometimes she'd invite the brothers over and make them dinner. Everyone knew her as a very sweet girl who kept to herself, it wasn't hard for him to develop a small crush.

"You guys go. I'm gonna drop these seeds off and grab some food, I'll be back in an hour." He caught an awkward glance from Tess but nothing more, it made him inwardly frustrated that she just didn't understand. They all would sometimes see Juliette in town being friendly with a guard, or being escorted somewhere with a smile. Joel especially took notice. He knew his crush would never be anything more. Maybe she was flirty with him at times, but maybe she was that way with everyone. Joel knocked on the door with special code, so she'd know it was safe for her to answer. He listened to the many locks being undone, counting them in his head to make sure she wasn't half assing it and only doing 1 or 2 when there were 6 for a reason.

"You did all the locks this time, good girl." He praised when she opened the door, catching a blush on her cheeks and a sincerely happy to see him grin.

"You spent half an hour pulling weeds with me AND lecturing me on lock safety. I learned my lesson." She said in joking defeat, wrapping her arms around him and squeezing tight as he stood still, as usual. He tried his best to be appropriate with his affections, reserved where she was free, but she didn't mind. She knew that was just Joel.

"Speakin' of weeds," Joel sat on the couch and dug into his pack, fishing out the box of latex gloves. "These aren't gonna save your hands, they'll shred." He handed them to her and found blissful disbelief on her face. She didn't say anything for a moment, looking between him and the box. He could tell she had something on her mind, the way her brow creased in thought and she seemed to go somewhere else.

"Hey, everything ok ?" He asked, she hesitated.

"... I need to ask you something serious." Brown meet brown when they catch each other's eye, Juliette trying her best to read him, but he remains in his stone demeanor.

"Joel, I need a really big favor... but I need to ask first, can I trust you ?" It's subtle, but something in his gaze changes then, a dilating of his pupils just a bit when he nods.

"With your life." Juliette takes a long pause, pacing the small studio apartment with nervous steps. She knows he means it.

"There's a plant that grows along the abandoned highways near where you do your trade runs. I need you to take these jars, and collect any berries, blooms, and leaves you can find from this plant." Juliette takes a book from off her table and sits beside him, laying it in his lap and pointing at a diagram of a green plant with purple flowers and deep blue berries.

atropa belladonna: deadly nightshade - WARNING! HIGHLY TOXIC

"The entire belladonna plant from roots to leaves is poisonous, and you'd need to wear the gloves to protect your skin." She bends over to briefly dig under the couch, finding a shoe box and removing the lid to reveal it to be filled to the brim with ration cards, and an almost full bottle of real pre-outbreak whiskey.

"I know it'll be dangerous, I've been doing some saving and trading.. I would go myself, but my dad never let me go past the river, I don't know the area... and you won't take me yourself."

"No, I wont. Something happens to you out there, who's gonna help the people in here ?" She remained quiet, he made a fair point. She hadn't yet picked someone to pass her knowledge down to, and Joel was the only other person who knew some, but not all, that it took into raising a healthy garden. Joel took the bottle of whiskey from the shoe box and pushed the ration cards back to her.

"Joel, no-- you,"

"No, you, listen up. I'll do this for you on one condition. You gotta tell me what need you have for poison plants.. and you gotta promise to put those cards towards yourself. Gonna start gettin' cold again, get some winter clothes... can't romp around in sun dresses all seasons." His dry humor was poking fun at her, but he noticed a swift change in her mood, leg beginning to bounce in a nervous shake right beside his. Joel gently placed his hand over her knee, trying to read her face and finding a mix of sadness, and possibly shame.

"I'm just jokin' with you, honey, I didn't mean anything by it,"

"No-- it's not that... I just.. don't think I can tell you. I don't want you to think different of me.." Juliette said softly, different than her usually confident and chipper way of being.

"You're actin' like you're planning on poisoning someone, what's goin' on with you ?" The silence that fell over the room was heavy, all she could do was stare.

"Shit, Jules.. are you poisoning people??" He asks a little louder than intended, she shushes him, placing her hands over his mouth and climbing in his lap a bit with pleading eyes.

"Shut the hell up!! These walls are stupid thin, you know that. You need to let me explain.. will you let me explain?" Joel nods his head, unbothered by the unsolicited contact from her. She smells fragrantly sweet up close, and her knee digging into his thigh felt painfully good. She climbs off of him and takes a deep breath, fidgeting with her hands on the couch in silence for a moment. He's never seen her so wound up before, he can tell she's scared.

"Whatever it is-- and I mean whatever-- We'll deal with it together. Ok?" She meets his eyes one more time, and she knows he is a man of his word. Joel Miller is not one to just say things.

"Have you ever heard of Jane Doe's ?" Her question catches him off guard, it takes him a moment to process what it means. She can see it in his eyes when it clicks.

"Heard its a myth.. FEDRA wouldn't run shit like that. They'd abolish it." Joel seemed confident in his words, but the sad looking smile on her face at his naivety made something in his stomach drop.

"When girls are of age to get assignments, some of us get the choice to be Jane Doe's... FEDRA officers request us, we go to their homes, draw them bathes, make them tea... We wait til they're done. We do whats requested.. They pay us our ration cards, we leave." Clearly distraught, things started connecting in Joel's mind as he ran a hand through his greying hair. The many "boyfriends" he thought she had. Wondering how she always had so many ration cards to offer him. The bruising he'd sometimes see on her arms and legs she'd claim were from gardening.

"A few months ago, I went to jane doe for a guard that was known to be aggressive with the girls.. He kept me for 3 days and did.... the craziest shit, Joel." He noticed how her body trembled, her eyes pleaded with him to see her point of view, to believe her, rather than crying about the abuse she suffered.

"FEDRA doesn't give a fuck what happens to us. jane doe's are disposable, replaceable... It's all underground. So nothing happened to the guard... My dad and I used to harvest the belladonna that grew near the river, and I remembered there was a patch next to where we have the fish traps.. so I got the berries together, and I made a tea. When that guard requested me again, I went to his house and did what I normally do. I might've used more than I needed.. his body responded almost immediately, then it was pretty much easy from there. I waited til I could hear him choking, then I went into the bathroom and held him underwater til he passed.." Joel rarely showed reaction at all, but he could hardly believe that sweet, quiet, Juliette was telling him the story of how she poisoned and drowned a man in his own bath tub. He felt pride in her for having the ability and intelligence to keep herself alive, but mutual rage at the men who've been hurting her, and disappointment in himself for not seeing the situation sooner.

"Fuck, Jules.. I'm sorry, I should've known, I," She cut him off, shaking her head and taking his hands in hers. She recognized the coldness pouring over his eyes as he beat himself up. She wouldn't let him take responsibility for it.

"Hey, I'm fine, right? I'm right here, aren't I ?" She flatted his hands on the hem of her dress, bringing a bit of warmth back to his brown irises as he met her sight.

"You couldn't have known.. I wouldn't let you. This isn't something I'm proud of.. I would've died with this secret if I wasn't in this position." He's reminded of the matter at hand, the collecting of the plant, and her reasoning.

"Tell me who you're going to use the poison on, I'll take care of it right now. Give me a name." She observes how the thought of her being in danger puts fire in his heart, and shares a genuine smile for the first time of the night since she opened the door.

"I'm not in any danger, Gruñon, calm down.. Seriously, I promise." Juliette extends her pinky and offers it in promise, he begrudgingly links his with hers and interlocks it tight, but takes it as trust she is telling the truth.

"I make the tea for other jane doe's.. We take turns taking out guards. When one jane has a body, we all go to where she's at and help wrap the guy up like the infected, and toss them in the burn piles at night.. I've used all the nightshade within my reach, but I know more grows along where you do your trade runs." She allows him a moment to process and sit with everything she's said, fearing in the back of her mind that he thinks she's barbaric, inhumane. She has no idea of the things he's done to survive as well, he could never judge her. He maybe even admires her more.

"I'll get what you need, I understand it's important. Don't worry about it." Joel assures her, telling her he'll be going back on another run in a few days. She thanks him endlessly, throwing her arms around him again, but this time, he opens his for her and wraps her in a tight hug. He cannot imagine the horrors she's witnessed and suffered from being a jane to abusers, it's important to him that she know he's safe, he's here for her. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath of her scent in the lingering hug they both needed, comforted by hints of jasmine flowers in her hair and coconut oil on her skin. She holds his neck a little tighter and he does the same with his arm around her waist, playing a game of follow the leader her body finds its way on top of his lap and he leans back on the couch to give her more room, now closer than they've ever been. She gently kissed him, her lips soft and moisturized with some sort of homemade balm that tasted like honey where his were chapped and hardly used to the affections of kissing. His body reacted before the thread of his moral compass could, chasing the sweetness of her lips and slowly initiating the next steps of tasting her mouth with his tongue. She ran her fingers through his untamed mess of greying waves, nails gently raking across the back of his neck and making his heart pound in his chest.

"Jules.." He sighed when she started to grind on his lap, moving his kisses roughly under her chin and down her throat, facial hair scratching against the delicate skin of her chest as she began pulling her dress down for him.

"Please, Joel ? Please, please, please," She begs, snaking her hand between them to begin pulling at his belt. Joel groans, pulling her hand away and holding it at her side, both panting for air as the heated make out abruptly stops.

"I.. I can't tonight.." Something in his gut drops again as he internally kicks himself. He wants this just as badly as she does, but he has to go.

"I told Tommy I'd be an hour.. I won't have enough time. Any longer, he'll come lookin' for me." Juliette nods. She's understanding, but he can tell she seems discouraged.

"Hey," Joel holds her chin in his hand gently. "I'll be back in a few days... Just.. be good for me. Stay out of trouble." He doesn't know what else to say, but it's better than pulling her hair back and going for her mouth again. He kisses her a final time before he goes, savoring the taste of sugar and honey.

"Come back to me safely."

Like a spell spoken over a willing fool, Joel found himself wanting to do exactly that from the moment he left her apartment.

#TLOU #The last of us show #hbo the last of us #joel miller #pedro pascal #joel miller x ofc #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller one shot #joel miller series #tlou fandom #tlou fanfiction

[hauntedpearl]

hope chest

Gen, Dean studies, sweet fluffy things.

@angelcasendgame mwah mwah mwah thank you so much for being my cheerleader!!! 💕💕💕

There's this bowl in his kitchen.

It's a cheap little thing — cost him barely a buck and some change — he'd found tossed in the back of a thrift store in Ohio. And it's ugly, too. Got this ridiculous, colourful, loopy pattern on it almost as if someone gave a preeschooler free reign of a paintbrush and left them to it. A chip in the rim, like the last owner had chucked it at the wall when the fruit punch inside wasn't quite to his taste.

It's — Well. You get the idea.

Dean didn't make a habit of browsing thrift stores for kitchenware, and he made even less of a habit of buying that shit from them.

But. Well.

There was the bunker, then. New, and solid. Some place to go back to.

There was a room. A bed to call his own.

A kitchen.

So, sue him for looking.

The hunts took them all over, and sometimes, amidst all that adrenaline and the blood and the damn footwork, there were these long stretches where all you'd have to do was put your feet up and wait. For the coroner to get on with it. For the families to realize that the two dudes in cheap monkey suits would believe their outlandish stories. Sometimes, for the monsters to drop the next bodies. (Those really were the worst ones).

Dean had a routine most of the time. Hit up the local diners, the bars. Flirt with a waiter or two. Pick up a copy of some hinky sounding science fiction novel from the dollar bin at whatever run-down grocery store sat on Main Street.

But, then. The Bunker.

Right.

So. The thrift stores.

He'd begun picking up a tchotchke or two. He'd found a hand-painted wooden model of a car, once. A Ford, nice and smooth and yellow. Soft, blue sheets he'd washed thrice before he put them on the mattress in one of the spare bedrooms. Plates and mugs and odd little spoons with engraved handles that always amused him when he'd seen them on TV.

And, then. There was that bowl.

Stupid looking and too oddly proportioned for anything a respectable household might need a bowl for.

Dean wouldn't know, gun to his head, why he'd thought it would be perfect. It just — It seemed so right.

He'd been holding a worn copy of an old-as-balls edition of Cat's Cradle that was chock full of notes in the margins and doodles like the ones he made in his own copies. He remembers that, for some reason. That book. The cheeky cashier who'd sneered at Dean's purchases — a book in shitty condition plopped at the bottom of a bowl that looked shittier. The way he'd felt a little like his entire body was just itching when he'd forked over the cash, wrapped that bowl in newspaper and thrown it in the pile of old jackets and torn jeans in his trunk he never quite got around to throwing out. (He still hasn't.)

And well, it's here now.

All this while later.

In his kitchen.

A kitchen that's wood and tile, not cold, grey concrete. Yellow wallpaper smudged with handprints. Green and Blue and Purple and Orange.

It's not what Dean was expecting when Cas said he'd wanted to brighten up the space a little, Dean.

Well. It is what it is.

There's some meaning to the madness of Cas' little home ec project, he's sure, but he doesn't think he's ever gonna actually get it. It looks a little like shit, all things considered. But, damn, if it doesn't make him happy. Like his chest is filled with fireworks that keep going off.

Because —

Well.

It looks like home. Feels like it.

So, there's the bowl, in his kitchen that's home in a way nothing's ever been.

It's a cheap little thing. Ugly as shit, too. A chip on the rim like someone's taken a shot at breaking it in half...because who'd want it, really?

It fits, though.

In here.

In the kitchen with ugly, hand-painted walls.

They set it on the counter, next to the nicer clay bowl that Cas fills with fruit from his garden. And one of Jack's ceramic plates that turned out a little wonky and holds Dean's keys.

Dean fills it with packets of sugar and salt and ketchup that make their way into his pockets, even now. A few sets of plastic cutlery that accidentally come along when they get takeout. Fancy napkins he'd gotten into the habit of hoarding, because you didn't get to have hand towels when you were on the road, and toddler brothers were messy little shits who got chocolate all over your clothes when you were trying to be nice.

It's a mess of paper on most days, really.

And sometimes Jack sneaks a handful of ketchup packets out and empties them in his mouth, just like that, because he's a goddamn menace.

Dean thinks it's funny. (He does the same with the sugar and salt, sometimes. Old habits and all that. It's not like he can actually say anything to the kid. What? He's not a complete hypocrite.)

But Cas doesn't.

"You're going to have a stomach ache," he'll say, and more often than not, it's true.

They do it anyway, because they're stubborn assholes who eat weird shit. (Dean's proud of his kid, what's there to say.)

"God, the two of you! You're going to be the death of me!" Cas will say, when he sees them racing to choke down packets of hot sauce.

They'll stop, then, but he won't realise that he's gone and punched them in the gut until he notes the way Dean's face crumples. He'll apologize — of course, he will, even though there's nothing he needs to be sorry for — petty fight forgotten. Dean tells him it's fine.

Reassures him with a touch.

A kiss.

But — Alright.

(That one hurts, still.)

Alright.

(Dean hopes not. Dean hopes never again.)

Alright.

The bowl.

It serves no real purpose in their little house, to be honest. Dean can't bring himself to throw it out, though. He couldn't tell you why, gun to his head.

So, it sits there. The bowl that was tossed in the back of a thrift store in Ohio. In his wood and tile kitchen, accumulating packaged condiments.

He thinks it's ugly as shit.

But, Well.

Damn if it doesn't feel a little like home, too.

#doe's writing #spn fanfic #fanfic #destiel established but it's just mentioned for a second #dean studies #IMAGINE YOU'RE A BOWL #HAFSHSJD SORRY KIDDINGGG #i didn't really have an intent here i just started writing as an exercise and this sort of happened. not my usual style or pov of choice #but it hope this tickles your fancy #I'll add the taglist in the notes do lmk if you want on/off! #spn ficlet #spn creators

[sweetiecutie]

Some random headcanons I have about Regulus Arcturus Black:

•Since early childhood Regulus had struggled with anxiety. It’s mostly because of his parents and their “progressive” methods of upbringing their children, that included pretty harsh punishments for every smallest mistake

•Regulus truly has what’s called hands of a pianist. His fingers are long and flexible, green and blue veins run up his hands and to his arms under his thin pale skin. A sight for sore eye, isn’t it? BUT, because of said anxiety black-haired has a habit of picking on his cuticles, biting the nails and skin around them. Same with his lips and the insides of his cheeks, which are always swollen from fresh little wounds

•Sirius is known for his playful and cheeky demeanor and he used to pick up fake fight with Regulus, just for the fun of pissing his grumpy younger brother off. Needless to say that almost all of those fake-fights ended up as real slaughter with both Black boys viciously pummeling each other, leaving dark bruises and deep scratches in their wake. Once Sirius even broke Regulus’ nose, unintentionally of course, he really didn’t mean to put that much force into the punch

•Regulus is very attached to Sirius. His older brother was the only protection and support he had throughout all his life and he might not show it but he truly and deeply loves his sibling. And when Sirius left Regulus was utterly… broken. He felt so betrayed and lonely and angry and sad but mostly just terrified. He no longer had any support, Sirius was his only safe place in that damned house. And now he was gone. Regulus spent four days locked up in his room, hidden underneath his blankets, refusing to talk or eat, barely drinking any water just because Kreacher begged him to do so

•Definitely a cat person. Probably wants to get one but can’t because of Walburga. Basically, Regulus likes everything fluffy and cuddly, be it cats, rabbits etc. But wouldn’t want a dog because they’re too active

•Regulus is way better at French than Sirius

•Favorite sleeping position is on his tummy with face fully buried in his pillow. It’s really a mistery how he manages to breathe like that

•And while we’re on this topic, Regulus is a light sleeper, any slightest noise can wake him up easily - squeaking of the floor, fluttering of owl’s wings, clock that ticks bit too loud for liking. But he also falls back asleep fairly quickly after making sure that it’s still safe in the place

•Regulus’ handwriting is so neat! You know this pretty cursive, with little loops and whorls in the right places? Yes - it’s all about Regulus. His school notes look more like a work of art rather than senior’s abstract

•Handles heat horribly. Regulus hates summer because of its high temperature - all he want to do during warm season is to lock himself up in refrigerator. Constant heat makes him dizzy and nauseous, his whole body covered in sheen of sweat, lungs refuse to function properly. To put it simple - Regulus is definitely not a summer person

•Sadly, he’s very self-conscious. He’s been told hundreds of times just how beautiful and smart and amazing he is, but it’s actually hard to believe all those things growing up in a family like his. In Regulus’ eyes he’s all about imperfection - body too lanky, skin is too pale, hair way too curly for liking, face too thin to be beautiful. He envies his brother sometimes - how can Sirius be so confident in his looks all the time?

•Doesn’t really like sweets. Maybe dark chocolate or ice cream that’s not overly sugary, but overall is more of a fresh fruit lover

Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated, they inspire me on creating even more content for you💖

#regulus black #regulus #sirius black #harry potter #harry potter writing #marauders #marauders era #noble house of black #marauders writing #harry potter fanfiction

[myymi]

Hi!!

I don't know if this has been asked before but I couldn't find it on your blog, so here I go

(Also if it has been already asked or for any reason, feel free to not answer this, lol)

A few knuckles & tails hcs you'd like to share? Because I am reading your knuckles n tails fics and... Reading them is not enough I need these in my blood...

They're.... brothers... *crying* they are brothers your honor

Oh and, thank you so much for blessing us with your latest fic, I was screaming about protective knuckles!! (this is a compliment)

Anyway, as I said, feel free to ignore this, and I hope you have a great day!!

-💛

heyy!!

nope, no one’s asked for just knuckles&tails hcs, but i’m more than happy to share the ones i have!

they’re both really big history nerds, so they’ll tell each other different stuff they know. knuckles abt the ancient echidnas and tails about anything he can dig up

tails will come drop off books at least every other week for knuckles to read (sometimes they’ll read together, but usually that’s only if it’s a subject tails REALLY likes)

if it’s a cloudless night and they’re both free, tails will fly up to angel island so they can stargaze together :]

knuckles taught tails how to punch properly n other shit. while he doesn’t want tails to have to do that, he understands anything can happen and he wants his baby brother to be safe <3

they explore together !! they’re the perfect duo for it, they can reach any crevice they wish to (also helps tails practice with carrying knuckles around, he learns the best way to hold him and other smart stuff idk)

they both get SO stressed when they’re out with sonic bc his dumbass is convinced he can’t take fall damage (‘make sure to keep an eye on the idiot who can’t fly’ ‘can’t i just build him shoes to make him fly?’ ‘If he’ll take them, go for it’)

tails gave knuckles a ton of pointers on how to land better when having to drop from higher points to avoid causing too much pain

tails is one of the few people knuckles trusts to be alone with the master emerald

knuckles just.. picks tails up whenever he feels like it. no warnings either, he’s just snatched up fr

they both like napping in sunbeams :] there have been many instances where sonic’s found them snoozing next to the master emerald, tails curled up on knuckles’ chest and them both snoring away

knuckles usually just lives off of whatever fruit he picks, but he does make an effort to cook for tails when he visits <3

tails makes a lot of reinforced technology for knuckles so he doesn’t have to worry about accidentally breaking anything (he did once and he felt SO bad)

during infinite’s attack, before tails ran off, he went to knuckles for comfort <3 knuckles was also the main person who looked after/checked on him

knuckles actually adores tails, because he’s such a sweet kind, not to mention incredibly smart AND he’s strong enough to carry him and sonic like oanrowineg he’s so impressed with this kid and he makes sure tails understands that (which, bless his heart, he’s so confused as to why the guardian of the master emerald likes him so much)

whenever knuckles learned of tails’s past, he literally almost went to west side to beat up tails’s bullies because how DARE they put this child through all of that

when they were younger, and tails was still a little insecure abt his extra tail, knuckles would go out his way to make positive comments abt it oiebfowbe (‘that is a wonderful advantage you have. truly a gift’ ‘i would love to have an ability such as yours. you’re a blessing to this world’)

tails taught knuckles how to spindash

when tails got tired after aa long adventure, knuckles would carry him so he could sleep as they made their way back home

knuckles had tails tell him EVERYTHING about the fake chaos emerald he made because that’s so?? how did you manage that tiny child, tell me

they both have pretty severe abandonment issues :( but they help each other get through it <3

that’s all i have off the top of my head! but of course, you can always ask for more!! 💛✨🌼

#they’re brothers your honor #angry giant+shy lil guy supremacy #their dynamic is everything to me #miles tails prower #tails the fox #sonic the hedgehog #sth #knuckles the echidna #sonic

[enchanted-blade]

Do you ever just stop to think about wee tiny Arthur who's got no mother and an emotionally unavailable father, and just how touch-starved and lonely he would have been? Despite all the people around him in the castle, all the staff and servants? Did anyone ever stop and give that little boy a hug ?

Anyway.

Arthur doesn’t know how many people have touched him over the years. Being king, he doesn’t often get much say in the matter. It’s his duty by birthright to care for the land and its people, and in turn, the people of the land care for him, for his body.

There were wet nurses as a young boy, who fed him and bathed him and clothed him as was required by their mourning king. He’s fairly certain there were three of them, maybe more – a small motherless prince takes a lot of looking after – and although sometimes distant and perfunctory, they were never cruel. They hugged him when he fell and spoiled him perhaps, giving him sweet fruits and pastries whenever he wanted them. He remembers their lilting chatter to each other as he splashed contentedly in his bath of warm water, their busy hands scrubbing soap up and down his arms and combing through his soft, golden hair. The whole of him was soft in those days. Round cheeks and plump baby arms, ripe for squeezing and tickling and especially for those pecking chicken-kisses that made him giggle and squirm in their arms.

When he was old enough to swing a wooden sword, there were his father’s knights, and Arthur their page. The scrapes and blows his fellow students dealt him were all in good fun, good practice, and he but another little boy scampering around the training grounds learning the knight’s way. When he wasn’t receiving his instruction, the calloused hands of tutors correcting stance and grip, then he was playing rough and tumble with the other pages and squires, who taught him the law of the headlock and the subtle language of a punch. He was smaller than most, a puppy-dog to them no doubt, tagging at heels and attentive when they called his name. His heart near bursts to think of those early years, all sun-soaked and grassy-kneed: the smooth heat of the other boys’ skin as they tangled together on the field, the clack of teeth as they fell, his jaw slammed swiftly shut, and a knee or an elbow in his gut, the pierce of their laughter right up in his ear. Oh, he would ache afterwards, but it was the sweetest ache. He loved them so. He thinks they liked him too. 

(Read the rest below!)

#bbc merlin #arthur pendragon #the first few paragraphs of this fic have languished in my tumblr drafts for MONTHS #seized by the feverish vision of that lonely boy #but i finally finished it #merlin #fic

[upon-a-starry-night]

Soda Tabs and Sweetness

Paring: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Main Masterlist       Wanda Masterlist

Word Count: 1.1k

Summary: “you know the meaning behind giving someone a soda tab don’t you?”

---

You made your way through the crowd of tipsy college students as you continued your journey to the kitchen, you weren’t a big fan of these kinds of parties where there were too many horny college jocks and too few fucks to give about any of them.

But still, here you found yourself, you weren’t dragged here by any of your friends, although you could spot a few of them in the crowd- Nat dancing with her girlfriend Maria and Tony playing beer pong with Sam- No, you’d come here of your own accord because as much as you despised the possibility of getting beer poured on your shirt- again- your life was dreadfully dull and you truthfully had nothing better to do anyway.

You opened the fridge to see if there was anything other than cheap beer and spiked punch, much to your surprise there were cans of soda and fruit nectar, although you didn’t know if they were meant for the guests you weren’t going to go searching for the host of the party- if they were even still here- to ask for permission.

Instead, you grabbed a can of peach nectar and leaned against the counter popping it open. It was at that moment the most beautiful girl you’d ever seen decided to walk into the kitchen and you nearly choked on your drink, she glanced at you and gave you a brief smile before opening the fridge and grabbing a can of mango nectar. Instead of leaving like you’d expected her to she walked over to you, a small smile on her face as she leaned on the island across from you 

“You look like you’re having a good time” she inquired as she observed you, as if she could sense your disdain for parties like this

You rolled your eyes playfully “Oh yeah, I love drunk handsy college students and getting beer spilled down my shirt” She let her eyes wander down to where there was still a light dampness to your shirt, it was stupid of you to wear white and now she could probably see your red bra underneath, she seemed to reluctantly pull her eyes away from your chest and look back up at you with a smile

“Is it even a real party without those things?” she questioned

“I’ve been to better ones” you countered, challenging her

“Perhaps you’ll have to show me sometime” You shivered, excited at the fact that she was hinting she wanted to see you again

You both took sips of your drinks and you listened to the sounds around you, music playing in the living room, and various groups of laughter coming from all around, though surprisingly you two remained the only ones in the kitchen.

She extended the hand not holding her drink out to you as she introduced herself

“Wanda Maximoff”

Wanda, it was a beautiful name, one you could see yourself calling out every day, a smile on your face and a pep in your step as you greeted the girl. You tried not to get ahead of yourself, shaking the thought out of your head and clasping your hand in hers, reveling in the warmth it brought you

“Y/n, Y/n Y/l/n” She tilted her head at your introduction, analyzing if the name fits you

“Y/n” She tested the name on her tongue and you nearly melted, the soft slight rasp of her voice saying your name was something that would potentially lead to you needing a cold shower later tonight. She nodded her head after a moment, coming to an internal conclusion “I like it”

“I’m glad I have your stamp of approval” you teased and she rolled her eyes, fiddling with her can

The actions brought your attention down to her ring-clad fingers, something you found immensely attractive. The only thing snapping you out of your trance was the sound of metal breaking from metal and your eyes shot up to Wanda's curiously, her own now filled with delight. She fiddled with something in her hands as she spoke

“Do you know the meanings behind different soda tabs Y/n?” you nodded slightly, it was a conversation you briefly remember having with Nat when you’d seen her give one to Maria.

To pull off a soda tab without the empty circle in the middle and give it to someone meant they owed you a hug, to pull off a tab with the empty circle in the middle meant they owed you a kiss, and to pull off a tab with the metal still in the middle of the circle- well, let’s just say that outcome is not very child friendly. 

You took in Wanda’s sudden nervousness and your eyes were once again drawn to her fiddling hands as they produced a soda tab, your eyes widened slightly. It was a tab with an empty circle in the middle, a kiss.

You blushed as you took the tab from her hands, you swore you were going to frame it when you got home. You pushed yourself off of the counter you were leaning on, placing your hands on either side of the island Wanda was leaning against

“Are you sure?” Wanda huffed at your question, she was the one who gave you the tab, after all, she simply nodded her head letting her eyes drop down to your lips before coming back up to meet your eyes

You leaned in closer, reveling in the way it made her breath hitch, one of your hands coming up to cup her cheek before you finally closed the space. Wanda immediately kissed you back, pressing into you and smiling into the kiss, you nipped at her bottom lip asking for an invitation but you could feel the smirk as she nipped yours back. God this girl would be the death of you.

You moved your other hand off of the counter onto her waist, rubbing circles into it before pinching it softly. The action caused Wanda to gasp and you quickly took advantage of her open mouth, slipping your tongue in to brush against hers you moaned at how sweet she tasted from the nectar. 

Wanda reluctantly pulled away needing air, her emerald eyes significantly darker than they were before. You smiled at her, pulling her in for another- much shorter kiss before releasing her again, both of you panting slightly

“You know…” Wanda started “I think I have a spare shirt in my car if you need one?”

You smirked “My my Wanda, trying to get somewhere more private how scandalous of you” She lightly slapped your shoulder before burying her face in your neck and shyly mumbling “Shut up” You chuckled, slipping your hand into hers once again and causing her to look up at you

“Well come on then” You tugged her in the direction of the door, both of you headed to her car with a twinkle in your eyes and the promise of something more

~

a/n: Should I do a part two with smut? I've never written it before as my fics tend to fall on the sweeter side of things but i’m not opposed to writing it.

#wanda #wanda maximoff #wanda marvel #wanda fanfic #wanda mcu #wanda x y/n #marvel #marvel fanfic #MARVEL FANDOM #mcu #mcu fluff #wanda x reader #wanda x you #wandaxreader #FemaleReader #fluff #Fluff Fic #FLUFF FANFICTION #wanda fluff #soda tab #fanfiction #fanfic #reader x wanda #high school au #college au #college party #cute #meet-cute #gay #lesbian

[dairy-farmer]

Heyy i hope you’re having a good weekend,

Have you read this fic yet??

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28008021

Its really fluffy and I was thinking what if it was the rest of the batfam relying too much on tim kind of like a mother, like in the fic, that made bruce notice that he would be a good mommy and he starts thinking of how tim would make such a good mommy to his own kids and that leads bruce to kinda be like, i want more kids actually and starts basically courting tim or something (sorry its not as coherent lol its like 2am rn)

-C

yes i have!!!!!! i love the concept of everyone just unanimously agreeing that tim was the head of the family!!!!!!!!!

the way that bruce in the end joined alongside them too. not yet calling tim mom but very much recognizing how tim, as a whole, is a figure that is very reliable.

he notices how all his children quickly run to tim for assistance or backup or to have him fulfill their needs. and bruce, in a way, also indulges into those same actions because tim is just...like that.

tim has always been a very steadying, reassuring type of person. he was the type of person who if you spotted them in the middle of a disaster you’d just know that everything was going to be okay.

bruce’s other children agreed and liked to keep tim busy, all vying for his attention or tuffing him into different directions. when they misbehaved bruce didn’t even have to lift a finger or say a word unless invited to by tim who took the discipline of bruce’s children into his own hands.

jason was stuck scrubbing dishes for two weeks when he accidentally left his edibles in an open container in his room, allowing damian to accidentally consume them when he went in looking for a pencil.

bruce hadn’t noticed it before but there was a noticeable...lightness to his older children. dick had always borne a lot of responsibility on his shoulders but lately, he’d been laughing louder and playing more. he was the one who got his ears lugged on the most by tim who scolded him about playing too roughly with his brothers and to know to ask about whether they wanted to play.

damian was always a bit of a proud child and it got him in trouble at school sometimes. bruce knew he struggled with making friends but was happily surprised to return home to the sight of damian and a little blonde boy systematically photographing and recording the various insects that populated the vegetable and flower garden. bruce recognized the camera hanging around damian’s neck as the one that usually sat on the shelf in tim’s room.

“they look like they’re having fun huh?”

bruce turned, work briefcase still in hand, to the sight of tim in some sneakers, trousers and a loose-fitting shirt.

“he’s ives’ half-brother, he told me while we were on a call a few days ago that his baby brother was having  a hard time making friends and i could understand him given i had my own little brother to worry about.”

there was a small smile tugging at the corner of tim’s lips. he was holding a small tray with two glasses of what seemed to be fruit punch and a lemon curd cookies.

tim looked every bit like an after-school mother entertaining their son and his new friend. before he continued forward to bring the boys their snacks bruce tried to sneak one of the little cookies and was quickly smacked away by tim who scolded him and ordered him inside where he could enjoy the ones on the cookie sheets.

they’re not alfred’s recipe. that much bruce can tell. but the cookie is buttery and sweet paired with a nicely tart fruit curd.

sometimes bruce will walk past the sight of alfred and tim folding laundry together and going over each person’s schedule for the week.

other times he’ll walk past the open door of the library and spot jason curled up on the sunny spot, his head nestled in tim’s lap as he quietly reads to him.

sometimes it’ll be jason. othertimes it’ll be a sweetly curled up damian or a relaxed cass.

it’s such a...fitting sight.

motherhood is becoming on tim. it’s such a natural look on him.

the thought strikes bruce one fairly normal evening.

both he and tim are at the office. they stop at tim’s corner office to get a few forms bruce needs and he spots the gift wrapped bow in the center.

it’s an office shower gift. teresa smalls, one of their PR workers is having a baby and they’re throwing her a small shower before she goes on maternity leave.

tim eases the top of the gift off, moving the card aside and ruffling through the tissue paper to show bruce the cutest little baby onesie he’s ever seen. little blue birds and intertwining branches cover it and tim coos as he holds it to his front.

and something in bruce...something just ‘clicks’ at the sight.

there’s something so right about tim as a mother, taking care of and loving bruce’s children.

despite his full household bruce has yet to actually have a baby.

it’s a daunting thought. one that is almost always soured because the women he’s been with weren’t...mothers. and bruce himself wasn’t exactly a shining paragon of paternal love.

but tim.

if tim were there to...help him...to guide his hand then bruce...could do it. he could do it. he already was. he was filling in the gaps where bruce couldn’t be there for his children, he was helping keep bruce’s family happy and together.

sometimes bruce will think back to that encounter in tim’s office. of his holding up that tiny little onesie to his body and marveling at it.

tim was already small, he was the smallest of bruce’s household.

and bruce well...bruce had been born a pretty big baby.

tim’s arms would be so full and overflowing with their child.

he’d coo over them the way he had in that office. he’d tenderly stroke their hair as they napped in his arms, he’d kiss their cheeks and play with them until they were bubbling with giggles.

bruce knew he would.

so if bruce starts standing a bit closer to tim no one ever mentions it. if he leans in closer when discussing a case, if he lowers his voice and whispers in tim’s ear, well that’s no one’s business.

tim grows used to bruce’s touch. the graze of a hand on his waist, his lower back, his cheek.

when one of bruce’s children run to him, eager to tattle on each other bruce offers them a simple ‘go tell your mother’ and the light in their eyes absolutely glow with mischief.

bruce starts sprinkling it in more, your mother this, your mother that. your mother told you to clean your room. your mother wants you to know there’s pastries from that bakery you like in the kitchen.

bruce couldn’t refer to tim as ‘mom’. even though every bit of him told him it was an appropriate title. so he settles for something else.

bruce starts calling tim his wife.

he says it for the first time at dinner and it gets him all sorts of looks from aorund the table and bruce stares back.

“what?” he asks. “if tim is your mother that must make him my wife shouldn’t it?”

tim blushes hotly to the tips of his ears and stutters which garners small snickers from around the table.

bruce sneaks up behind tim on occasion, gripping his hips while he’s doing a load of laundry and whispering ‘my wife’ in his ears until tim shivers.

tim gets introduced as bruce’s wife at events, the newspapers no longer refer to bruce as an eternal bachelor. bruce and tim never have an official wedding or sign any papers but it’s an acknowledged fact that they’re married and married couples spend time together.

they hold hands, they kiss, and they share a bed.

tim is such a sweet and tender little fuck. gasping wetly and letting out high-pitched gasps as bruce sunk into him and stretched out his little pussy with his cock.

bruce is tim’s husband, his love, his partner and there’s nothing between them. no barriers. nothing.

nothing that stops the hot flow of cum that bruce pumps into tim’s young womb.

tim parts his thighs further apart, whining as bruce presses in as deep as he can, mashing his cockhead to his cervix and groaning as he deposits over bit of himself into that welcoming entrance.

bruce stays plugged inside tim the whole night, holding him as he softly rocks on his cock, holding back moans so as to not wake up their children whose bedrooms are just down the hall.

there’s nothing more humiliating than hearing your parents have sex after all.

bruce holds tim the entire night, occasionally thrusting in as his cock gets hard again until tim is moaning and shivering around him. bruce may be getting up there in age but he’s still just a virile.

something that’s proved true when tim discovers he’s pregnant the next month. bruce kisses him full on the mouth when he learns, humming into that tender mouth and already imaging the sight of tim growing bigger with their child, tim being the wonderful little mommy to their child that bruce knows he is.

bruce is so happy.

“my sweet wife,” he whispers lowly, squeezing tim, “you’re going to be the mother to all of my children aren’t you?”

because there’s going to be more. at least a few. enough until that itch inside bruce is soothed by the sight of tim carrying his children and loving them with all the care and grace he always had.

a few. just a handful.

perhaps just two or even three.

yes. three would be perfect, a final tribute to his beloved wife, his third robin.

how perfect.

#anonymous #asks #answered asks

[themeatpit37]

New Pokémon SV Oc game; what foods does your character eat from each restaurant/stand? (Based on the meals/snacks in the game’s eateries)

Asher naturally has a large appetite, so the amount of food he chooses tends to be large. Usually two meals plus a dessert unless the selection isn’t that huge or there’s not much variety in portion sizes/types of food. He isn’t quite picky, so he tends to order a pretty wide variety of foods.

He tends to eat these large meals when he’s eating by himself, as they do get pretty expensive at times… If he were with others, he’d probably have only one portion and pretend to be full halfway only to finish it at home immediately.

These large meals are usually rare as he tends to eat whatever food he already has or whatever Arven gives him (Arven likes to experiment and gives extra portions to Asher)

Restaurants

Every Wich Way: Avocado sandwich and sometimes a jam sandwich

Go-For-Broke Grill: Paella de Paldea, fruit punch, and potato tortilla.

Seafood Fresco: Seafood pasta, Seafood pinchos, and Arroz con Leche

Sushi High Roller: Miso soup, four piece sushi (bird set), and four piece sushi (wind set)

Sushi High Roller SP: Consommé, Exclusive four-piece sushi (Sleet set), and Exclusive Four-Piece Sushi (Graupel Set)

Jade Palace Garden: Ramen, pepper steak, and Annin tofu

Gastronome En Famille: Doesn’t go here because the portions are too small and expensive to satisfy him.

Barato’s: Caesar salad, Salisbury steak/dry curry, and chocolate-vanilla fruit parfait

Seabreeze Café: Coffee and Alfajores

Uva Academy Cafeteria: Egg sandwich or potato salad sandwich sometimes with a peanut butter sandwich

Treasure Eatery: Soba noodle soup, mustard rice balls, bitter melon stir fry, and sweet adzuki bean soup

Kofu Lounge: Hot and sour soup, Dandan noodles, and tofu pudding

Blueberry Academy Cafeteria: Academy pizza, Academy fries, and an academy milkshake or Academy Special with an academy milkshake

——

Food stands with choices

Smoochurro: Cinnamon sugar

Kanto Crepes: Strawberry whipped cream crepe

Sugar-N-Ice: Fizzy-pop ice cream, teriyaki ice cream, or every flavor on one cone

Ice Cream Stand: Flower ice cream cone

Shaved Ice Stand: Alolah Blue shaved ice or Melon shaved ice

Candy Fruit Stand: Green candy apple, candy apple, or candy leppa berry.

#pokemon sv #pokemon scarlet and violet #pokemon scarvi #pokemon scarvio #Pokemon oc #pokemon sv oc #trainersona #pokemon trainersona

[mikurulucky]

~~ Some Johan headcanons ~~

He's 19 years old as of The Master of Roucybeuf. He was knighted at the age of 18 for his efforts during a battle. During the story, The Punishment of Basenhau, Johan had just turned 14 and was on his way to experiencing a growth spurt.

He's pansexual. He just has little to no time for romance, sex, or anything like that. Might've had a puppy love crush on his mentor, Count Tremaine at some point in his teenhood, but mostly admired from afar in that sense.

Like mentioned before, Count Tremaine was his mentor throughout his time as a page and a squire. His first story was basically the first time he adventured on his own. The two fought alongside each other in the aforementioned battle that ended in Johan being knighted.

He always likes a fresh sweet apple sometimes, but his favorite sweet food is blackberries and just about anything made with blackberries. He always liked more tart fruit whenever they were in season.

In a modern setting, Johan would not want to say fuck. But if you push him far enough, he will say it (and it takes a LOT to push him THAT far, even for Peewit. So when Johan says fuck, you KNOW you done fucked up and made him beyond furious).

He's an introvert. As courteous to others as he is, too much socialization and too much time in big crowds will eventually burn him out. A nice solitary round of archery or reading is often enough to recharge his batteries.

In the modern era, he went to college and earned a criminal justice degree. He was a detective working for a local police department for a few years but he witnessed the corruption of the police system over time. Eventually, he left out of sheer frustration and disgust. He then went back to school and earned a bachelors degree in psychology.

He prefers tart over sugary sweetness (so he'd prefer fruit over cake if given the choice, but he doesn't really dislike cakes), and savory over sweet overall. In the modern era, his snack of choice would likely be buttery and salty popcorn.

He has turquoise eyes. They look green sometimes and blue other times depending on the lighting and what he's wearing (they certainly look blue when he's wearing his yellow tunic and red tights. In bright afternoon sunlight though, you can tell they're a blueish green.

I saw a headcanon that his kicks are stronger than his punches and honestly, yeah. I agree. His legs are strong and fairly muscular. He could knock you out with a kick or a knee to the face.

If you were to be really close to him, he'd smell like sage and lavender, his baths are often scented with those plants. In the modern era, herbal almost floral scents are his favorite in cologne. When he's out and about adventuring, chances are he bathed in a nearby stream and his scent would reflect that, being less floral and more fresh from the water.

He doesn't get sunburnt too easily and you can tell when he's been out in the sun for a long time from him getting somewhat more tan. But he HAS gotten sunburnt several times before during his adventures.

He has a beautiful singing voice, but he's pretty shy about singing in front of others. You'll sometimes see him singing or humming a little song to himself when he's alone, even if there's a dog or cat around. He'd probably sing to a pet cat if he wanted to. In the modern era, he's the type to sing in the shower (Peewit as well, but we all know how horrid Peewit's singing is lol).

And that's about all I got for now. ^_^

#johan et pirlouit #johan and peewit #the smurfs #peyo #bande dessinée #headcanon #sir johan

[thegoosewiththemost]

Haunting - Part 16

Summary: BJ’s first day at the apprenticeship and dining out. Lawrence most definitely convinced his boss to pay him in cash by the day because he has no banking details.

Read Part 15 here

Read Part 17 here

It was probably for the best that Betelgeuse was occupied when you were at work. As much as you would have liked to spend time with him, life and work and bills got in the way. You had suggested at first that he let the opportunity slide for now, but in reality there wasn’t much else for him to do around the house unsupervised and he wasn’t qualified to drive himself wherever he wanted (or pay for anything he needed for that matter).

“It’ll be funnn! Don’t worry ‘bout it, ol BJ has got it in the bag. Maybe I’ll even get a new suit out of it!”

“Come on, let’s dance!”

Briefly you decided to hold off on your skepticism at his suitability for the job as you drove him to work. He had improved by leaps and bounds since becoming human, but sometimes he could be an absolute feral creature.

It’s by some kind of miracle that he comes out of his shift looking more put together than he did going in and with a massive grin plastered across his face to boot. A very pleased shopkeeper waves out of the window at you from behind him.

Betelgeuse, as it turns out is unsurprisingly better at front of house sales than resigning to work in silence on the actual tailoring of garments, much to the annoyed dismay of the owner who gives up on teaching him the trade and instead changes his station to salesman altogether. It’s an easy enough job for an ex-conman and somehow despite his scruffy appearances suggesting otherwise, he brings in decent money - enough to keep everyone’s mouth shut. Somehow, he even becomes a bit of a zebra striped icon for the store which does wonders for their marketing despite how horrendous it looks. No one complains.

It’s an achievement worth celebrating and so you let him pick a restaurant to dine out at. I’m barely any time at all you’re there with him, at a candlelit table that makes it feels more like a date than you’d expect.

“Did you know that fruit starts rotting once you pick it off the plant?”

“Yes? And did you know that when you die, your corpse starts to rot too?” You hit back.

“So really you’re eating dead plant babies right now. Skinning them and then cutting them up into itty bitty pieces, you’re cruel, how could you do that to the plants?” Beej wailed dramatically.

“I know right, almost as bad as you deciding to ruin my sanity and life by stalking me since day one.” popping a piece of pear into your mouth, you fix him with a deadpan stare.

“At least I have standards.” He huffed. “I may not be above punching babies but at least I don’t eat them.”

“The plants don’t know that. It checks out though, explains the gum disease.”

“I have great gums!”

“Yeah they’re working miracles for you, I’m surprised you still have teeth.”

“The rot gives off a sweet taste, trust me, I know,” he winks flirtatiously. “Maybe you’d like a little taste test?”

“Oh I’m sure they do. You know, I’m deeply honoured that you’ve given me this opportunity. I’ll even make an honourable mention of it on my resume, but I regret to inform you that I sincerely decline.”

“Your loss, baby. But in case you change your mind, you know where to find me. Francis Bacon can vouch for me: beauty itself is but a sensible image of the infinite. And since life and death are infinite and I have been both.... that automatically makes me the most beautiful person ever to exist!”

“You missed your calling as a philosopher.”

“Oh I am a philosopher. You just don’t get my vibe.”

“What would your vibe be? Blackmail and hedonism? A literal vibrator?”

“Hey, go easy on the blackmail! It was one time! One time.”

“Uh huh, so this was just one incident made up of a billion separate other incidents that drove me insane huh? You’re really selling yourself to me right now.”

“I’m here for a good time, not a long time, can you really blame me? A couple hundred years on the bench all alone would get you desperate too. Heck, maybe I’ll get to rock your world before I disappear again.” His caterpillar eyebrows wiggle suggestively as he nudges his knee against yours before he dives into his food again, but you don’t miss that wishful look in his eyes before they drop from yours.

There’s a quiet as the conversation lulls. Your cheeks burn; that last idea isn’t something that you want to dwell on.

“I didn’t know you were so interested in Francis Bacon.”

“Oh I’m interested in everything and philosophers are just sooo sexy. They know how to really party it up and they’re the most likely to summon a hot demon.” He says, preening. “All the best ones are the freaks, especially in the sheets,” he says dreamily and you wonder for a moment if he was seriously going to divulge you with information about his hookups which you’d rather not know. “Like that one time Plato…”

“I’d really rather not know!” You wanted to know, because inconveniently, the demon you’ve been saddled with has been occupying your mind for an unsavoury amount of time and lately, not all of those thoughts have been safe-for-work per-say.

“Are you sure you really don’t want to know or are you just scared of what you might like if you listen?”

There’s an unspoken tension in the air that you feel, something that you don’t want to acknowledge.

With a look that appears way too innocent, he occupies himself by sucking obscenely on his straw. You can’t help but stare as he takes his time to lap his long tongue along the side. And the curl of his lip…

He’s smirking.

The damn bastard is smirking. You hope that he’s oblivious to the thoughts running through your mind right then and there. You break out of your stare and blurt out an instant denial.

“No!” You throw the word out a little too quickly and the smug grin on his face grows into a leer.

“Ok.” He stops almost immediately, but the mischievous glint in his eye begs to say otherwise.

Wisely, you leave that particular topic alone for the rest of the dinner.

By the time the waitress comes back with the bill, you’re completely relaxed by the warm air of the restaurant and a full stomach.

Betelgeuse snatches the cheque swiftly off the tabletop before you can even reach it and quickly, counting up the amount, slips it into the book and hands it back to the server.

“Lawrence!”

“Now what kind of gentleman would I be if I let my beautiful partner pay for dinner?” It’s an unexpectedly kind gesture and you smile bashfully.

“If you insist.”

His words play in your head even as you head out into the cold air outside, walking so close to him that your hands sometimes brush.

You like the idea of being his partner and the touch of his skin against yours burns into your mind in the night when you nestle against him once again.

Tag list: @honeycovered-bandaids

#beetlejuice #beetlejuice musical #beetlejuice x reader #musicaljuice x reader #musicaljuice #brightjuice #blumjuice #koberjuice

[sexy-sallie-may]

🎄 — favorite holiday(s)? 🍝 — favorite food(s)? 🍦 — favorite ice cream flavor(s)? 🍰 — favorite sweet(s)/dessert(s)?

"Howdy cutie!~ I'm assuming you're talking to me, Sallie May."

🎄"I like Christmas and Halloween, because I like getting free shit. Even if it is, well.... shit. I like Christmas because I actually get stuff I can use most of the time, and if I know the person well, they'll probably get me shit I'll actually like. I like Halloween because I get to dress up as whoever, or whatever, the fuck I want. Plus I've got a vicious sweet tooth sometimes, so free candy is always nice."

🍝 "Mmm I do love food. Honestly I'll try anything once, but the shit that really grows on me is stuff that combines a lot of stuff I already like well and creatively, like Pizza, Burgers, or Sushi. I also like pastas or grains, creamy flavors, so Alfredo is nice. More on that later though. I'm not super hard to impress really, the easiest way to make a dish appealing to me is to involve well-prepared flavored noodles, meat, or seafood. I'm honestly kinda a slut for those three. Anyways, as for earth regions that have food I enjoy, I'd have to say French food tastes like fucking sex, Italian food uses a lot of good herbs, tomato, cheese/creamy flavors, and pasta, so they're pretty fucking dope, and I have yet to try a dish from anywhere in Asia I truly dislike, and a lot of them are probably my favorites. Also being deep fried makes pretty much anything better."

🍦"Honestly? I love creative flavors, but anything involving chocolate, caramel, nuts/nut butters and the like, such as brownie batter, moose tracks, rocky road, etc. Are probably my favorites. If you wanna go with simpler flavors, you can never go wrong with chocolate obviously, but I'm a diehard strawberry fan. I also like more unconventional flavors like pistachio, buttered popcorn, pumpkin spice, or peanut butter. I would kill for a good tub of coffee flavored ice cream. If possible, I love toppings too, gummy bears, sprinkles, syrups, hot fudge, whipped cream, banana split, cherry on top, you name it. However for true simplicity, nothing can beat a good creamy vanilla ice cream sandwich or dreamsicle."

🍰 "As I mentioned before, I do have a wicked sweet tooth. If you're talking about candy, I love fruity and/or sour shit. I also believe I rather extensively covered my taste in frozen treats, but I do love cherry, fruit punch, or grape popsicles too. And as for baked goods? A lovely steaming vanilla custard pie with sugar cookie crust or sinfully chocolatey brownie are my go-tos."

"If y'all wanna know more about any of us, don't be afraid to ask~"

#the demon responds #hellsmayflower #muse: sallie may #ask memes #ask meme

[nobully]

There's no way in Hell she could possibly handle doing this face-to-face. Gift giving for reasons other than manipulation is an entirely unfamiliar act! Having received his gift early that morning, she had laughed at the sneaking suspicion that they were handmade after spotting a few errors... and then promptly freaked out when it suddenly hit her how much the thought of that, meant.

By that afternoon, a sleek, white box featuring the gold lettering of an expensive brand etched across the top was left in front of Wang Yi's door along with a note tucked under the red ribbon wrapped perfectly around it. Inside are an array of colorful alcoholic bonbons of varying shapes and designs.

The note reads: ❛ It's not handmade, because I'm not a magician, but I hope you like them anyway. I know you said you weren't drinking anymore, but we both know that's total bullshit. Anyway, happy love day or whatever ♥ ❜ and strangely, sprawled at the corner of the card as if added last minute, ❛ P.S. Thanks for the strawberries. They're delicious. ❜

'That—seriously, even after I told her I'd stop!'

Sigh.

'...they do look pretty good though.'

He'd returned from his trip around the wards and a lunch break to see a beautiful box sitting gorgeously outside his room. Internal yelling aside, Wang Yi had snatched it up and ran inside before anyone else came down the hallway, feeling unsurprised but no less anxious when he saw that she was the sender.

'Is, is she saying I'm a magician for dipping some fruit in chocolate? Wait, how'd she find out in the first place...?! Did they taste off or something?'

He frets over her note, but of course it gives no clues. It doesn't seem to be a bad thing since she'd called the strawberries "delicious" as well, but Wang Yi can't help but wonder.

He's been...wondering a lot about her these days, actually.

Sometimes it feels like walking on a tightrope; other times like they're two peas in a pod. He thinks he can guess her perfectly, but then she'll suddenly switch gears and he's lying on the dirt wincing from her latest verbal punch in the gut.

His eyes trail over to the open box of chocolates, their fun shapes and packaging perfectly concealing their true natures. Bonbon bombs in ball dresses, his brain suggests, and if that didn't describe Nicolette to a T. A sweet and pretty exterior, but hiding potent liquid within. Red wine, he thinks, but it's so easy to confuse that with blood and well, both taste intense...

His vision swims. Shit.

'What am I feeling right now?'

'What do...I want?'

Is it because they're both not normal? Even that isn't the right word.

He means "boring," probably. Or predictable. Same. Safe.

Nicolette has never been any of those things. Even when she was carting him away from certain death, there was always the cold, hard uncertainty of whether they'd make it past the next wave, or sand dune, or copse of trees. Her moods could be a crapshoot on a regular day too—his gauge for measuring others always seemed to backfire for her. In the end she was a drop of ink in his blank, white heart, dyeing it in all the darker colors he'd tried to mute in his head.

The night that swallows the moon. The rain that drenches the sun. The kiss that—no, that one doesn't count, because there were no feelings behind it.

It'd been exciting sure, but it was never physical contact that tempted him and to his relief, they'd left it at that. Whatever his body experienced didn't really translate into long-term emotions. Rather, it was watching the reactions of others and seeing them feel what he couldn't that drew him in.

Prodding them. Provoking them. Making them subm—

Wang Yi bangs his shins against the table as he straightens his legs with a start.

'...fuck.'

The pain clears his thoughts, but his face is still turning scarlet as he turns to look at the chocolates. Suddenly they seem way too vibrant, as if the colors themselves are laughing at him for not realizing it sooner.

'I'm...not a weirdo. I'm not...'

But all he can see is that red, red wine, and the amethyst of Nicolette's eyes and hair, scarlet and purple mixing together so smoothly, so seamlessly, to create an incredible hue all their own.

Like ink.

#nicawlette #some suggestive cw #wow nicolette! #always helping wang yi discover new things about himself i see!! #or well. rediscovering old habits #oops this was supposed to be about valentine's #wangyico #ɴɪᴄᴏʟᴇᴛᴛᴇ ❥ serpent beneath the flowers // death on the bud of a rose