#let me just add him to my trash pile

[ren-re-mx]

Y'all I've fallen hard back down the Detroit Become Human rabbit hole so if anyone wants to chat about all these good good blorbos hmu. Please.

#ive also become a reed900 shipper so theres that #and just a firm believer in gavin reed redemption #oh? a good chunk of the fandom has decided the trash man is trans AND capable of bettering himself while still being an asshole? #let me just add him to my trash pile #detroit become human #dbh #shouting into the void

[athenamikaelson]

hii i was wondering if you could do a imagine where the reader is klaus daughter and she is a tribrid like hope and her boyfriend died or something like that (you can change it idc) and she turns her humanity off and she is all badass and he tries to turn it back on also i love your blog

Klaus Mikaelson x Daughter!Reader

Summary- Reader is Klaus’ daughter and also a tribrid, her boyfriend gets killed which results in her flipping the switch. Klaus is there to get her to turn her humanity back on. Also, I didn’t know whether to add Hayley as her biological mother so I’m going to leave that up to you guys and just write the character as someone who had a mother-daughter LIKE relationship. Hayley is also still dead, RIP Queen. 

Word Count- 1.6k

A/N- Thank you for the request! And thank you for the compliment!!! <3

Warnings- Blood, Reader has no filter and no cares, mentions of death and killing, body parts, alcohol, swearing, Klaus and the reader have unresolved issues, Reader digs on Hope. (I love you Hope, no one can make me hate you.)

Blood drips down my lips as I throw the body of some rando onto the floor of the dusty-ass bar I’m in. I bring my hand up, wiping the stray crimson liquid off my chin, and bring it back to my lips. I sigh escapes my lips at the taste. Feeling a moment of euphoria; well technically as much euphoria as someone with no emotions can experience.  

I catch the sound of the bar door opening from behind me and turn prepared to kill whomever decides to walk in. Unfortunately, the biggest earsore decided to grace my presence. If I could feel annoyance at this moment, I would. I let out a sigh of annoyance as I stared at my father. He stands at the entrance of the bar and casts a glance at the piles of bar patrons, or more truly the bar patrons' body parts, that are scattered across the floor. 

“Well, it appears you’ve been busy.” He says with a smirk and slight tilt of his head. He kneels and picks up the head of a man by his hair and glances at me with a raised eyebrow. 

“You’ve been hanging out with your Uncle too much appears,” he says as he tosses the head back down as if it’s trash. 

I just raise a shoulder as I walk behind the bar and pour myself a glass of bourbon. 

“Says the man with the nickname, Klaus the Mad.” I shoot back as I down the brown liquor. 

“Touche, Little Moon. I do have to say your,” My father pauses as he glances at the bodies around the bar, “habits, definitely come from my side of the family.” He appears to smirk in fatherly approval and then quickly covers it up with a shake of his head. 

“Your Uncle Elijah wouldn’t approve of this you know?” He says as he reaches for the bourbon bottle. I watch as he pours himself a drink but before he can grab the glass I speed to grab it. I stare at him as I down the drink and then give him a thoughtful look, “Well why doesn’t he tell me that himself?” My father’s smirk drops and we stare at each other for a moment before I lean back onto the counter and raise my hand in a matter-of-fact movement, “Oh, right. He can’t. Because he’s like dead.” My father just rolls his eyes.

“You done?” He asks me with a look of disapproval only a father could master. I stare at him for a moment, tapping my chin and pretending to be in deep thought.

“Well I mean there’s like countless other dead relatives I could bring up,” I bring my right hand up and start counting on my fingers, “Josh, Hayley, Cami, Jackson.” I ponder some more thinking of all the other people that have died because of my family. 

“Your boyfriend. Don’t forget to add him to the list.” I freeze for a split second as I hear my father’s words. I look at him and he’s staring at me with a knowing look. It takes me only another fraction of a second before I let out a laugh. 

“I’m not turning it back on,” I tell him as I cross my arms and lean back against the counter. He stares back at me and taps his chin in the same way I had done moments before. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, turn what back on, Little Moon?” He says with a tone that makes me want to stick a white oak stake into his heart. 

“Let me guess, Hope calls you crying to Daddy that her sister is going off the rails and hurting and killing people and needs to be stopped. Even though like a month ago she was going around telling everyone, “I’m the big scary tribrid I can’t be killed” and then goes and kills our friends?” I say in a matter-of-fact tone at my sister’s hypocrisy. 

My father lets out a sigh as he goes to walk behind the bar next to me, he comes to stand next to me and I subconsciously take a step away resulting in my father stopping and staring at me. 

“Y/N, Hope regrets everything she did and only wants you to know that turning your switch off is only a temporary fix.” I pretend to put a small smile on myself before dropping it and laughing in my father’s face.

“God Dad, you’d do a killing at a TED talk, maybe next you can tell a group of teenagers with anxiety to just “chill out”  and that it’s all in their heads. Also, why the fuck did Hope get you to do her dirty work, why can't the big bad tribrid come and face me herself?” 

“OK first, I have no idea what the bloody hell a TED talk is. And second, your sister called me worried and we both thought it would be a better decision that I come and talk to you. We both know that you have the emotional capacity of a Mikaelson. Just like your father.” He says with a small smile on his face. 

“I remember once when you were 11 Kol told you that he wouldn’t teach you a certain spell because he said it was too advanced for you at that age. In retaliation, you went behind his back, stole the spell, and tried your hardest to do it. But as much as I hate to give your Uncle Kol any praise and I deny this if you ever tell him, Kol knows too much about spells and witch stuff so he was right about the spell being for a higher age level.”

I stand there remembering the exact story he’s retelling. 

“No, it wasn’t.” I deny. He stares at me and raises his eyebrow.

“You caught your hair on fire, all of it burned off and Hayley had to buy you a wig. The wig was also an atrocious purple color.” 

I just stare at him for a second and then nod remembering that the purple wig really was a horrible decision. For a split moment, I felt a light feeling in my chest at the memory but as quickly as I felt it I pushed it away. 

“Let that feeling in, Little Moon,” he tells me as he reaches his hand out to touch my arm, but in a split moment, I grab his arm and push it back to a breaking point and push him away speeding to the edge of the room away from him. 

“Don’t even try it, Dad, giving me a funny childhood story isn’t going to make me instantly turn it back on. One funny story doesn’t amount to all the other shit that went on,” I look at him in anger, “Do you remember why Hayley had to be the one to buy me the wig and not you?” My father’s face falls and goes to say something but I stop him. 

“Hayley had to do it because you weren’t there. You. Weren’t. There. You had to hear this story from Hayley’s letters to you. Letters you never responded to. Just like the phone calls you never responded to me. Waiting by the phone every birthday, waiting for my father to call me, or watching the other girls go to the Daddy daughter dances while my father is across the world killing innocent people. So don’t for a second try to doting father act. I have every right to want a break for one second in my fucking life. Y/B/N dying was just the cherry on top of the fucked up ice cream that is my life.” I finish yelling at him as he stares at me with noticeable regret and heartbreak in his eyes. I watch as he picks up his hand and goes to reach out to me but drops it once I flash my tribrid eyes at him in warning. 

“I know I wasn’t there for most of your childhood and I will always regret that,” My dad looks down at his hands and for the first time in my life I see the most feared man in the world look as little and humane as a mortal man, “but I’m here now Y/N. And I’m not going anywhere. You can flash your eyes at me, bite, and yell at me, even threaten me but I’m not going anywhere. I’ve lived a long time and have seen many people go through what you’re going through Little Moon. And I know you’re hurting and I know I’ve left you before and I will spend forever making up for that. And right now you need your family and, I’ll follow and annoy you until you’re ready to flip that switch. Always and forever, My Little Moon.”

When my father is done with his monologue I place another solemn look on my face and walk over to him and give him a small smile. My father seems to lighten up at my approach and goes to meet me but as he comes to pull me into a hug I speed behind him and snap his neck dropping his dead body onto the ground. His body blends with all the other dead people that are already scattered around the bar. 

“You can take your Always and Forever and shove it down your throat,” I say to his dead body as I walk out of the bar.

#author #athenamikaelson #klaus mikealson x reader #klaus mikaleson imagine #klaus x reader #tvd klaus #klaus mikaelson #elijah mikaelson x reader #elena gilbert #elijah mikaelson #elijah mikaelson imagine #hope mikaelson #hope mikealson imagine #legacies #legacies x reader #the vampire diares imagine #thecwshows #thevampirediaries #the originals #the vampire diaries #kol mikaelson x daughter!reader #kol mikaelson x reader #klaus mikealson fanfiction #klaus mikaelson x daughter!reader

[tallymonster]

Careless Whisper ❤️ AO3 link ❤️‍🔥

Summary: Zesstra is a stripper and she just got off work. She turns on her computer and watches a very steamy streamer.

THIS IS PURE SMUT TRASH, IT IS NOT SERIOUS. If you come to my asks being an asshole, your ass will get BLOCKED.

A/N: there's a lot of emojis and out of character speak going on here. Do not take anything written here seriously, this was done for fun. Consider this a love letter to my friends on the Astarion Brainrot discord and to the ones who let me use their Tavs in this wild idea I had one day when I got too stoned and started to write on Google docs. Might be a one off, might be a thing, who knows?? Either way, enjoy! Happy Valentine's Day 😘💕

@cursedhaglette who let me use Halia (goldengalhal)

@tragedybunny who let me use Sera (SeraQueen)

@micropoe10 who let me use Colette (EcoGirl)

@just-a-refrigerator who let me use Elora (slutty_songstress)

And @bhaalbaaby who let me use Penelope

Thanks guys, I love love love you all 💕

Zesstra flops onto her bed with her laptop and a giant glass of wine in her hand. Another shitty day at work, but what's new? Being a dancer at the Fae Cabaret wasn't the ideal thing, but fuck, if the money wasn't worth getting her ass slapped for 10$ extra dollars in her tip pile.

Today though, was the last straw. The creepy rich dude who comes by every once in a while came by tonight, and did his same bullshit. She could practically recite his opening line “Hey gorgeous, why the sour face?” followed by a stupid smarmy laugh.

Zesstra smiled, put on the fake giggle, and slapped his shoulder. Next, he buys her the cheapest mixed drink, and of course, he gets himself an expensive glass of whiskey he never finishes.

She tries her hardest not to roll her eyes after he makes some degrading comment about her coworker, grimacing while he rants about some meeting with important people she doesn't give two fucks about.

Whatever, that's all in the past now. Tonight was about Zesstra, of course. It's her blessed time off and she was going to spend it the only way she could truly enjoy it.

Zesstra turned on her computer and went through her socials. The public one for family and close friends, some messages from the girls at work, nothing too exciting.

Then she flips to the slutty socials, the ones where she can post pictures from work. She answers some messages on her pay per post site, adds more lewd photos from her various shopping sprees, and scrolls for a few minutes. Messages pour in offering her the world for a few seconds of her attention, but there's really only one place she wishes to be.

Zesstra thinks back on the one bright spot in her nights. A regular she only knows as “The Lawyer”. He's a good looking elf, perfect silver hair, gorgeous face, dazzling red eyes that lock onto her as she walks the floor of the club.

He usually doesn't say much, but when he does Zesstra swears she’s heard that silky voice somewhere before. She put that thought to the back of her mind. Tonight was about seeking her own pleasure.

Clicking through the streaming sites she visits on nights when the images of him won't leave, she finds that her favorite creator, an asmr streamer called ProfaneDelight, just began his stream. Zesstra clicks on his name and pops her headphones on. She drinks more of the wine, and closes her eyes as his voice begins to fill her ears.

“Good evening, darlings.” She watches as he enters the frame of the video, his tight red shirt and black pants hug his body. The camera is at the most unfortunate angle, since it won't allow her to see his whole face which she assumes matches the delicious sound of his voice.

“Have you been waiting all day for me?” He huffs softly, a small laugh follows, “What a good audience you are…” His breathy tone sends shivers down her spine.

Zesstra kept her eyes on the screen as his hands come up to the desk he stands behind. She notices the black leather gloves with red piping along the edges that cover his hands.

“You know I can't stand to be away from you.”, his voice drips, seductively. “I bet you think of me while you do the most boring things.”

Zesstra can't help keeping her eyes locked on his hands, she tries not to, but her mind starts to imagine The Lawyer’s hands there instead.

“Do you get excited when you see time passing by as I get closer to coming back to you?”

His right hand comes up to the top of his shirt, slowly undoing a couple of buttons. A breathy sigh followed his hand as it lowered itself down his torso. Zesstra bites her lip in anticipation, taking another slow sip from her wine.

Her eyes follow his hand as it comes to a stop at the waistline of his pants. The heat rises to her cheeks when she sees the outline of his cock as the gloved hand cups it.

A strained groan escapes his lips, she can already feel the effects of his seduction working on her body. Her cheeks are heating up just by watching these slow teases.

Zesstra swallows more wine, watching as he opens his shirt more. The pale skin of his core seemed to shine in what appears to be candlelight. The soft yellows of the light bathe his body, the shadows cast highlight the muscles that are slowly exposed.

“Ah ah aaahh” he teases, “if you want more…you know what to do, darlings.”

Zesstra smirks mischievously, the money she earned tonight would be put to great use right now. She types a quick message and before she could type it she hears the ping of a donation from someone called goldengalhal.

goldengalhal sent 20$ “Starting off right, love. There's more where that came from 😘”

Zesstra rolls her eyes and sends her 25$ donation, 5 more than whomever that is. Back on the screen she sees her name and message pop up.

TestyZesty sent 25$ “couldn't wait to come home, looks like I got here just in time…”

He laughs and begins to slide one of the gloves off near the microphone. The soft scratching sound of the fabric rubbing against his pale hand sent more shivers through Zesstra’s skin.

As the glove comes completely off his hand, he taps on the mic, Zesstra sighs contentedly and licks the wine off her lip. She notices his fingers, and does a double take. They look familiar? She pours the last bit of this bottle into her glass and leans back to watch more before jumping to conclusions.

“Looks like we have someone who came by at the right time…little TestyZesty…my dear, what are you so testy about? Anything I can help with?” His lips curl into a little smirk, “I hear I give wonderful stress relief…”

Zesstra shoots up on her bed, her wine swivels in the glass and almost spills due to her abrupt reaction. “No fuckin’ way.” her jaw drops and she begins to type her response. Suddenly, another donation pings, this time from a SeraQueen.

SeraQueen sent 50$ “I had a bad day at work, can I get a little love too 🥺”

“Of course, dear. Hope your day can improve now that you're here, my Queen.” he responds with all the sweet words they all love.

Zesstra scoffs, “Biiiiitttttch, please.” she giggles and sends her message. As soon as it pops up on screen, she hears his melodic voice begin to read it.

“Work, irl shit. Life sucks, then you die. You make it better though.” she sees a small smirk on his lips, Gods, she would kill to suck on those lips. “Oh, don't be so nice to me, Zesty…you make me want to be nice back..” He draws out the last bit of that sentence, making the hairs on her arms stand on end.

The second hand comes up and begins the same languid dance of slipping the matching glove off. Bit by bit he takes the glove off each finger, a soft moan flows out of those pretty pink lips when he finally releases his hand from the offending accessory.

He strokes the microphone with his fingers as more soft, breathy moans leave his lips. “You're all so eager to get me exposed aren't you? All these adorable messages just for me?”

“You have no idea…” Zesstra grabs the second bottle of wine that sat on her nightstand, she unscrews the top and drinks straight from the bottle. More images of her Lawyer pop into her head, but her mind decides to think of the way he ran his hands all over her when she took him into the private rooms at the back of the club a couple of nights ago.

No matter how many times she's been told not to let people touch her, she can't help letting him do it every time they're alone. He was paying for the whole experience, of course, but sometimes she wonders what they would get away with if she were the one paying him.

She snaps out of it the moment she hears another donation ping from an EcoGirl.

EcoGirl sent 150$ “do you like to garden? Because I have a hedge that needs tending 😏”

“Oh no, little love. I can't mess up these immaculate hands…then how would I be able to make these streams?” He giggles a bit and stands to remove his belt. It's like a little game of back and forth comments and donations from different people.

Among the many she notices a comment from a slutty_songstress “how do I get you to sing for me? bet you make wonderful sounds 👀”. He apparently noticed that one as well, he reads it out and huffs into the microphone.

“I don't usually do private performances…most of the time I’m the one getting the dance done for me…” A skewed smirk grows on his face, as if he's trying to play coy.

Zesstra’s mind begins to fire off with unhinged horny thoughts. She would do anything to give this man a dance he would never forget. People do love her aloof drow attitude, who’s to say he wouldn't?

Before she could stop herself, she drops another donation.

TestyZesty sent 100$ “what kind of dancing? Are you going to the ballet or stopping by the Cabaret? maybe I'll see you there? 😘”

Another cheeky comment, sure to get his attention. He laughs again, and bites his lip. “Well, I do enjoy both, but I do hold a special place in my heart for the girls at the Fae…have a few in mind actually.”

Within seconds the chat is flooded with questions on who the girls could be. Zesstra sees a few of her coworker’s names flash up on the screen, most notably, Penelope, the pink tiefling with a huge fan base, and Nym the other drow girl who worked part time at the strip club.

Some even mentioned Nym’s brother Sorm, but he had given up the cabaret after finding himself a job as a model after one of his regulars hit it big during Faerun Fashion Week.

Penelope and Nym are Zesstra’s friends and friendly competition. Most nights where the three of them work, they'll place bets on which one of them will get hit on first (Penelope), which one will get a four figure tip (Nym), and who can get the client the most drunk within 30 minutes (Zesstra).

She giggles as the comments keep flying, eventually, one commenter names her!

“Have you seen Zesstra?? She's kind of a bitch but total dommy mommy energy 🥵”

Zesstra cackles like a banshee, “That's right, babes, fear me!” She takes a long drink from the bottle, amused that someone out there thought of her.

Back on stream, the delightful treat in front of her sucks his lip and releases it with a pop, “Darlings, I will never kiss and tell, but I do know one of my little friends is here right now.”

Zesstra sputters into her wine glass, she cannot believe what she just heard! Is he trying to imply that he's a possible client of the Fae??? There's no way, he's probably talking about the ballet that her cousin Octavia is a part of. But then again, how many of those girls sit in their room after a performance and flick their bean to this shit?

She chuckles the thought out of her head, and focuses her attention on the screen. She starts to type a message when a donation pops up.

goldengalhal sent 200$ “I do ballet, maybe you’ve seen one of our performances? I'm the prima ballerina at the Gate’s Performance Hall.”

“Good for you, goldengal. I do appreciate the arts, and I do love dressing up for the occasion, but….there's just something about the girls at the Fae that gets me going…”

Zesstra’s brain short-circuits. “OH MY FUCKING GODS.” Could he be one of her regulars????

Another donation. EcoGirl sent 50$ “CAN WE GET BACK TO THE MATTERS AT HAND?? our boyfriend is still wearing a shirt. 👀”

Zesstra laughs and sends her donation, TestyZesty sent 69$ “i agree with EcoGirl, can we get back to these pressing matters? In particular, the rest of those buttons 😏” An amused chuckle comes out of his lips, he stands and Zesstra could see him lean in closer to the microphone.

His hand slides down his chest, following along the line of buttons at the front of his shirt. The almost hushed sounds flowed from his lips. A strained groan here and a breathy moan there. Zesstra’s skin prickles under his teases.

His hands linger on the buttons that hold his shirt closed, one by one he begins to slide his fingers over the closures, his pale skin becoming more visible by the second. More soft whines and moans fill Zesstra’s ears, the vibrations pooling down in her core.

He leans over and speaks directly into the camera “I hope you all are pleased with yourselves, I don't usually let you all have this much power over me, but I figured with it being Lover’s Night, I would give my little pets a treat.”

He blows a kiss to the camera and begins running his hand down his neck, slowly trailing his hand down his now exposed chest. A low groan, almost a growly noise flutters out of his throat as he pulls the rest of his shirt open. The red silky looking fabric hung off his shoulders as his hand lingered on his waistband.

“Shall I keep going, lovelies? What do you think?”

The messages fly on the left hand side of Zesstra’s laptop screen. One after the other they compete for his attention until another high donation drops.

Slutty_songstress sent 200$ “off with the shirt, please (respectfully)”

“Well, my songstress, since you asked so politely…” The last word is drawn out, he lets his shirt drop from his shoulders, his hand throws it off and palms his cock again. He sucks his lip into his mouth, Zesstra could see what looked like a fang pop out the right side.

More breathy moans fill her ears as she begins to remember earlier in her night, when her bright spot waltzed into the club. She watched as the Lawyer walked up to the bar, he leaned on the counter and began to text furiously. Zesstra didn't usually feel so flustered because of a client, but the way he looked at her was not usual of the other patrons.

When she walked up to him he looked straight at her eyes and smiled. “Hello, beautiful.” She smiles back and leans over the bar, letting her shoulders drop, pressing her upper arms together to puff out her chest. The little game of playing it cool failed under his gaze.

They talk for a while before she hears her name being called, at the same time he checks his watch and notices the time. “I’m late to a very important meeting. Looks like we have to part ways, gorgeous. Maybe next time, we can have some time together? Perhaps away from these prying eyes?”

Zesstra could never properly hear him, no thanks to the loud ass music Alfira played behind the DJ booth, but she was pretty good at reading lips by now.

He slips her a note and winks as she bends down seductively to shove the little scrap of paper inside her platform boot. The moment ruined by Nym, who comes to pull her up on stage. Soon after she finishes her set, she pulls the little note out and reads it.

Zesstra’s jaw drops and sees that it's a business card for one of the most elite law firms in Faerun. It was a plain white card with his name, Astarion, and number written on it. On the back there was a note that read “I helped you once before, don't hesitate to ask again.”

She had given him her landlord’s number when they were trying to pull some shady shit and not fix her leaky shower. One call from “her lawyer” and it was done.

Seems like this was her chance, and given the amount of alcohol she's drunk so far, Zesstra decides to text the number.

“Hey, Astarion. It's Zesstra. Pretty bold of you to give me a business card.” She hits send and throws her phone on the nightstand. She'll check it later, he was probably busy at that meeting he mentioned.

Back in her room, she snaps back to reality yet again when she hears the sound of hundreds of messages scrolling past. Apparently in the time that she was in her daydream, her streamer had already undone his pants! She scoffs and types out a message.

TestyZesty sent 123$ “Holy shit, I looked away for five seconds and you sluts got his pants open??”

Zesstra hears the sultry voice reading her message out loud with a little wince at the end, “I guess if you were paying attention, you wouldn't be surprised.”

Her throat feels dry, she clenches and swallows. “You're all so sweet, letting me ramble like this…I wish I could see your face when you let me do whatever I want to you.”

Zesstra was already extremely turned on from seeing her crush earlier and the way she could feel his eyes studying her reactions.

“Touch yourself. I know you want to.”

As if she was being compelled to, her hand begins to trail down her center, slipping into her tiny shorts. She feels her wetness coating her fingers, her body opening up under his commands.

“Be good for me, I could be really good for you…” he slips his pants down, and she hears them hit the ground. His hand moves up to his waist, pulling at the fabric of his skin tight boxers, his cock very clearly hardened by this point.

“Oh fuck…” she slips her shorts completely off, spreading her legs on both sides of the laptop sitting on her bed. Her left hand goes back to work herself open while the right is tugging her bra up to play with her nipple.

“Give me what I want and I'll give you what you want, darlings.”

Another flood of donations and messages ring out, Zesstra wishes they would all just shut up and enjoy the show, but it's all part of the game.

EcoGirl sent 100$ “pleeease, I need to see this man cuuuuummmmmmm 🥵”

“As you wish, dear. Any particular way? Or is it the dealer's choice?” his voice drops as a sharp exhale escapes with a pout, his muscles tense and release as he runs his hand over his cock.

“Tell me how you want me to.” a sigh, and a moan, “I really wanna come for you all, you've been so good to me tonight..”

Two donations come in at the same time, each opposes the other.

SeraQueen sent 350$ “love the teasing, keep going, we love anything you give us”

goldengalhal sent 420$ “fuck your hand. Let us see your cock leak.”

“Ooh, the war begins…So direct, goldengal, and sooo generous…thank you, love. I do like what SeraQueen adds though, maybe I can give both of my generous beauties a compromise?’

He runs his left hand down the front of his boxers more, his breath hitches and stutters. His fingers teasing the length of his cock. He pulls the camera and the microphone down a bit and flops into the chair behind him.

TestyZesty sent 422$ “you look comfy, just how I imagined when I think of riding you when I touch myself.”

Zesstra had to take her hand off her tit to type that, but she could tell it had an effect on him. As a stripper, she could pretty much tell when any of the patrons got too excited by the dance. This guy clearly loved the attention he got doing these streams in more ways than one.

He begins to pull his boxers down, teasing them all with how slowly he was inching the fabric off. As soon as his cock is freed, it bounces back, bobbing with a twitch. “Is this what you think about, Zesty?”

TestyZesty sent 100$ “ fuck yes. I want to milk you, you drive me crazy.”

A pleased hum that turns into a moan follows as he runs his hands up his thighs, digging his nails into his skin. Zesstra can see the red scratch marks grow bright against his pale skin. Gods, she would love to bite down and see how pretty he would look bruised with little love bites all over.

He wraps one hand around his cock, the other continues to work his way up his toned chest, tweaking a nipple as he begins to lazily stroke his cock.

TestyZesty sent 100$ “get yourself nice and hard, I wanna have a good image of you underneath me.”

“Let me give you a better image then, darling Zesty…”

Zesstra is rewarded with a louder moan, he strokes himself a little more, grabbing a bottle off camera with his other hand. He flips the top and drizzles what looks like lube all over his cock.

EcoGirl sent 50$ “yesyesyesyes get it nice and slick, daddy. I would suck you all day if you let me.”

SeraQueen sent 240$ “you have the prettiest cock, so thick too”

“Oh EcoGirl, you like it when daddy fucks his hand? Would you like it to be your cunt instead? Maybe you and Sera can share?”

Zesstra clenches around nothing, she can't take it anymore and reaches down to fully indulge in herself. She begins to circle her clit, stroking slowly, trying to imitate the movements of his hand on screen.

His hand now coated in a combination of lube and precum slides up and down his hardened length, the muscles on his thighs flex and he lets out more breathy moans. “Let's see who can get me to come all over their beautiful tits, I do love it when they're covered with my come, bouncing in my face.”

Zesstra strokes down her pussy, her slick entrance is so desperate to be filled by him, to be the only one bringing him pleasure. She lets herself wander to the place in her mind where Astarion is the one making her mewl underneath him.

goldengalhal sent 300$ “faster, I love it when you can tell how desperate you are to come.”

He huffs and does as he's told, his hands find their places on his cock and on his balls, both working in tandem to ruin him for the audience. With one hand he strokes himself more, building up speed. His other cups his balls as his fingers spread, moving down towards his frenulum. He arches his back, thrusting into his hand more desperately.

Zesstra wants him to cry out for her like this, she wants to be the one to make him feel as good as he does for her, all she can bare to think of is his cock sliding inside her, splitting her open and taking what he wanted.

Waves of pleasure crash into Zesstra as she watches him stroking his cock faster, she can see how everyone's words affect him. The way his chest stutters as he's getting closer to his own high. His hips thrust up into his soaked hand, seeking release, his breaths growing more ragged and strained.

Zesstra's fingering herself in time with his thrusts, she lets the images of Astarion flood back into her head, his hands all over her as she grinds herself onto him during her dances. She rubs the heel of her palm into her clit faster as she feels herself getting closer, the moans and breaths in her ears pushing her closer to the edge.

“That's right, come for me…let me fill you with my come, get you nice and full for me. Have my seed drip down your legs as you go about your day…” a stutter followed by a strained groan “fuck yourself faster, I want to feel you come for me.”

Zesstra feels herself winding up more, the tension ready to snap at any moment, when she hears his moans grow louder and more primal. He's desperate to come and she would do anything to get that to happen. She keeps her eyes locked into his hands.

With her free hand she sends the last donation she thinks she can type before the lust fully takes her.

TestyZesty sent 69$ “come for me, gorgeous. Let me see you come and coat your beautiful skin.”

“Yes darling… gods, I'm so close… are you gonna come too, Zesty? Come with me, sweet girl.”

As if on command, Zesstra can feel herself crossing over the precipice, her body writhes and clenches as her cunt squeezes down on her fingers. She rides her orgasm out as she hears him panting and whining.

“Yes yes fuck you're so tight and wet, I can't take it anymore, fuuuuck…” he twists his hand on the rise of his hand, giving the head a bit of a squeeze. He thrusts into his hand with little shallow movements, his fingers from his other hand grip on his balls as he fucks his hand.

His body is clenching, tensing up more and more as he pushes himself over the edge, his cock twitches as he comes. The thick liquid coats his hand as it drips down. His body shudders as he keeps fucking his hand through his climax.

His moans stutter and his hips tremble. His waist and stomach are coated with his come, an obscene display for such a composed subject.

“Looks like I gotta clean up here, darlings.” he pants with a small laugh, his breath shallow and chest heaving. “For my little messenger, I hope you liked it. Expect a response from me soon, pet. Good night, loves.”

The stream ends, Zesstra thinks that little sign off was strange, but everyone has their thing. As she's coming down from one of the best orgasms she's had, she hears her phone ring and notices that Astarion has actually texted back! His meeting must've just ended, perfect timing.

When she opens the message, she nearly dropped her phone from the whiplash from throwing her head back. As plain as her own red eyes could see, was a short text. “You were pretty bold tonight, yourself, testyzesty…” Zesstra gasps, her eyes are as wide as dinner plates. “OH MY FUCKING GODS?!?!”

She immediately feels her hands trembling wildly. All she could think about was him, and it turns out that it was. Zesstra’s brain immediately blanks out when her phone rings again. “Did you mean what you said? Do you really want me like that?”

She quickly types a response and sent it back “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Come now, dear. Don't play coy.” his response reads, “Pretty easy to figure out it was you, not many girls mention seeing me at the Cabaret. Thought you were trying to drop a hint? Figured you recognized my voice from earlier?

Zesstra didn't even think about it, the club is so fucking loud, her mind races at the fact that now she knows that he definitely got off to her watching him. “Did you always know?”

“No.” he replies.

“So then…you meant to give me your phone number tonight?”

“Yes. Let's just say, you intrigued me. Besides, you're not the only one who has a public and private life. I was hoping to let you in on my little secret eventually, but it seems life had other plans for us.”

Zesstra cannot believe what's going on right now, her mind is racing through the hundreds of times he's come through the club. The sudden departures and strange late night meetings, it all makes sense now. There were never any meetings…well, not with other lawyers at least.

“So….what happens now? I know who you are, you know who I am…do we keep going down this path or do we split ways?”

“I think you're a rather curious little kitten, why don't we see how far down the rabbit hole we can go? I'll send you my address. Let me know what you decide on.”

Zesstra bolts out of bed, she puts on the skimpy dress that hangs on the bathroom door. She slips it on and gathers some things before running to the door. As she makes her way down the stairwell of her building, she gets his address. She bites her lip and replies “I’m on my way, see you soon.”

#bg3 #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion ancunin #bg3 astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion smut #everyone is out of character #it is what it is #happy valentine's day

[yorshie]

So I’m happy I found you on Tumblr because I read Burnt Out a couple of days ago and LOVED IT. I wanted to see if maybe you can do a little spin-off or continuation of it with Mikey and Donnie because I’d love to see how they feel about romance and how they’d handle being in a relationship with a human.

Much love 🤎

Hi There! I'm guessing you read Burnt Out on AO3, I'm glad you found my Tumblr! Welcome to the Trash Pile! (affectionate term for my silly little blog)

I wanted to go ahead and answer this since I kinda have an answer to it, but I also don't lol. I'm sorry that's confusing, let me just explain-

I plan to do a story for each of the four turtles where they find romance, but the stories are not exactly connected together. So there will be stories for Donnie and Mikey (and Raph) but they don't necessarily fall in line with Burnt Out.

That being said, I did add two snippets under the line here. One focuses on tying up some loose ends with Leo, and the second one is focused more on what Raph got up to after leaving Reader in Burnt Out - again sorry that neither actually feature the turtle you've asked about, but rest assured they are in the planning!

SFW, but there's a lot of talk of body parts, make out scene in one, sleepy cuddles in the other

(Sorry I don't wanna tag a lot of people for an ask but @friggysblog i heard your 'chimp noises' over wanting to know what Raph got up to, and @tmnt-tychou cuz Leo cuddles)

LEO

The numbers on the alarm clock next to your bed said it was three in the morning, and at first you couldn’t understand what it was that woke you up. Your heart was pounding, breath high in your chest. You tried to raise an arm up to press against your face when a warmth caught your attention and you realized you weren’t alone in the bed.

Leo was curled up against your back, the crown of his head tucked against the back of yours, his breath slow and even against the nape of your neck. One large arm curled across your waist, inadvertently trapping your own underneath it. His thighs were sleep warm under the covers, hooked up against your own, the silky material of his pants doing little to block transferred body heat between the two of you. 

He mumbled, the low low and rumbly, when you peeled your arms out from under his and stretched in the little space afforded. When you rolled slowly onto your back, he opened one sleepy eye, blue glitteringly reflecting the little light in your bedroom, the enlarged pupil enhancing the gleam when his eye swiveled to the side and the light bounced off it. 

“S’…” He grunted when your knee knocked into the inside of his thigh. “Back t’ sleep.” He grumbled adorably, burying his nose back into the space where your neck dipped in to meet your shoulder. You shivered at the warm huff of his breath, and Leo answered with another of those calming rumbles.

“Leo?” You asked quietly, the whisper a huff of air released into the dark.

He grunted softly, and your lips tilted up, knowing he was closer to sleep than anything remotely capable of cognitive reasoning. 

“What was with the growling, earlier?” You tapped along his arm, smoothed your palm against the muscles twitching under his skin.

“Danger.” He finally whispered. “Didn’t like- you in danger.” His answer was more sleepy insistence than anything guarded, and you realized he wouldn’t remember this, these questions, later in the morning.

You hummed to him, curious and a little mischievous. “...what did you talk to your dad about?”

Leo grumbled, as if he knew what you were doing. “S’ not… fair.”

You cooed, fighting not to smile, following the tug of his large hand when he rolled you further over to face him, his arm pressed against the bed sliding forward to curl up under your pillow. 

He breathed in deep, arm across your waist thumbing up over your hip, your spine, tracing the bones in the dark, before he answered:

“S’don’t wanna talk bout that.” He whispered. “‘Nough that he told me… pull my head-“ He took a deep breath, his plastron pushing against your chest, your stomach- “out my ass. Now.” His eyes opened again, not as sleepy, regarding you with equal parts amusement and gentle censure. “Can we please go back t’ sleep?” 

The last part was whispered lowly against your skin, one eye ridge raising in question before he pressed his lips to the spot, and your pulse jumped to meet the soft scrub. 

It caused another low rumble, this one deeper in Leo’s chest, that accompanying thunk thunk thunk letting you know he caught the reaction. 

“Sleep.” He reiterated, and you would have huffed a laugh, not knowing if the grumbled tone was directed towards you or himself, when he shifted closer, pulling you tighter against him. One leg hooked between yours, and the sigh he gave at the sensation of you against his chest was bone deep. 

You melted against him, tucked your cheek against the curve of his bicep, and closed your eyes, trying to sync your breathing to his as he tipped back over into dreamland.

RAPH

Raph cocked his head, stood up from your living room couch and paced to the window. You watched as he peered out the curtain, arms tensed, before he checked the latch was locked and tugged the curtain closed fully. 

“Everything ok?” You asked, watching him with concern, and he startled, head whipping around quickly like he had forgotten you were there.

“Yeah… sorry baby. Ninja senses acting up.”

“Well they’re pretty spot on.” You leaned your head against the back of the couch, watching him with a small smile. You loved to watch him move, the sway of his shoulders, somehow completely silent when he wanted to be. “If they say something’s up, I believe them.”

He sighed, the sound rough, and you blinked, not expecting that reaction to your praise.

“Nah, it’s nothing bad. Just wasn’t ready for it.”

“Ready for what?” You asked, not overly concerned because he was still loose. Even when he turned to give the window one last look before returning to the couch, you believed him when he said it wasn’t anything bad. Trusted him enough to only scoot closer when he sank onto the cushion next to you.

He caught your hand, grip gentle despite the calluses lining his palms, and you tipped one over without thinking, ran your thumb across the pad at the base of his fingers. 

Raph didn’t pull away like the first couple of times you had done this, and you shifted to lay against him when he pushed a heavy arm between you and the couch and hauled you closer. He watched over your shoulder, free hand swiping over the muscle right above your elbow as you explored his other hand and traced the raised veins up his wrist. His head dipped to press his lips against the warm skin at the edge of your collar, breathed a puff of hot air that dampened the fabric of your sleep shirt.

“S’ my brother.” He finally rumbled, the sound thick and deep in his chest, and you involuntarily shivered at the vibration against your back. “Skulkin’ round. Only surprised he hasn’t done it before now.”

“Your brother?” You asked, and he hushed you, snout dipping closer to press a kiss to the skin behind your ear, before continuing. “Yeah, m’ brother. He can read lips though, so let me do the talkin’.”

You snorted, the laugh jostling you against him. “You gonna try and tell me you’re using that as an excuse to press kisses against me?”

“Do I need an excuse to kiss my girl?” He asked against your skin, and you felt the pang of butterflies in your sternum at that easy claim.

“No.” You replied firmly, hating yourself for the blush that worked its way across your cheeks and down your throat, to where he could certainly see even if your gaze was kept firmly on his big hand.

Raph rumbled behind you, and you weren’t sure if it was a laugh or just happiness at your reaction, but you raised your knees, pressing further against him. 

After a long moment, some unseen tension in his frame relaxed, and he released a shaky breath onto your shoulder, his open mouth sending a ghost of warmth down your back. You knew from that alone that his brother had moved on, left the two of you to cuddle without interference.

“You’re so soft.” He murmured finally, pressing another kiss to your shoulder. “Blows my mind how soft you are sometimes.”

You raised his hand at the compliment, brought his palm to your face and kissed it before tucking your cheek against it and scrubbing fondly. He turned the movement on its head with a hook of one finger, tipping your chin to the side and nudging your face closer to his for a kiss.

You sighed into it, careful with how you moved, aware he was larger, acknowledged the effort it took for him to keep it sweet and not end up kissing half your face. You wanted him to have good experiences kissing you, not fall back into the panic of the first time you’d dared to peck him and you both found out his instincts equated it to ‘shove my whole tongue in my partner’s mouth’. 

Raph was worth the learning curve though, and that deepening rumble was especially sweet. You shifted, turned, rose up on your knees to face him, and he took advantage to slide his hand across the small of your back, hauled you closer. His hand tucked around the back of your neck, cupping the back, thumb sliding into your hair to hold you in place.

His lips were soft, the touch of the scar across his upper one sending a jolt through you with every brush against your own mouth. You cupped his jaw and scrubbed your thumbs across his cheeks, the growing warmth under his skin letting you know he particularly enjoyed that additional contact, and you smiled against him. 

He pulled back minutely to transition into lingering pecks, causing your smile to grow. 

“Wanna ask you something.” He spoke between kisses, and you hummed a question, shifting to wind your arms around his neck, pressing your chest against his plastron. The vibration there turned into a fast paced thunk thunk thunk, and your smile turned cat-like when you noticed how muddled the skin of his face was turning.

His hands slid to your waist, tightened to hold you against him. “Come-“ You kissed him again, and he grunted into it, huffing out a sharp chuckle as you repeated the action “-come meet my family.”

You paused, leaned back a little, and considered him. Took in the way he didn’t shrink from your gaze, green eyes glittering and pupil blown wide, before nodding, rubbing your fingers against the ticklish muscles between his neck and carapace. 

“I’d love to.” You told him firmly, and his mouth curved into that full blown, soft smile that turned his expression puppy sweet. Not the bedroom smirk you saw most often when he was trying to get out of trouble, but the one you coveted and held each instance you saw it close to your heart.

#my writing snippets #ask away! #ask me about my dum dum writing #tmnt bayverse #tmnt leonardo #tmnt raphael #bayverse leonardo #bayverse raphael #bayverse leo x reader #bayverse raph x reader

[fieldofdaisiies]

Strokes of Fate | pt. 1

paring: Feyre x Rhysand | type: angst | words: 3,4k words | warnings: none | masterlist

"You see what the painting looks like, right?" Rhys huffs loudly, flashing his best friends an incredulous look over his shoulder. The CEO's stands in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, his hands in the pockets of his pants, shoulders slightly slouched, expression incredulous. 

Rain drops cascade down the glass, the coming storm mirroring the whirlwind brewing inside of him. The painting was a present, but—

"It reminds me of a pile of trash," Cassian, his best friend, hollers and tilts his head to the side to examine the painting again. His eyes narrow and he brings up a hand, folding three fingers over his mouth. 

"It could also be two plastic bags…filled with trash," Azriel adds, fighting the urge to laugh. 

Rhysand flips both of them off when he finally fully turns to them. "Idiots," he grumbles but when his eyes land upon the painting he has to agree with their descriptions. The figures on the painting could truly be mistaken for trash. He has absolutely no idea what the three objects should even display, but he truly hopes his friend didn't try to paint him, Az and Cass and rather aimed for something abstract. 

Cassian lounges comfortably on the plush couch, legs crossed at the ankles, Azriel next to him in an armchair, both chuckling at the awfulness that graces the wall behind Rhysand's desk. 

"You know, I truly appreciate all kind of art, " Rhysand says, turning slightly to look at the painting once again, then back to his friends. His voice carries a tone of bemusement, tinged with a hint of annoyance. "But this... piece of art looks like someone let loose a child with a crayon and then called it a masterpiece."

Cassian chuckles, the sound a welcome relief in the otherwise gloomy atmosphere. "Well, she isn't the tallest…one could sometimes mistake her for a child. I am sure her pants are child-sized."

Azriel cackles, but the CEO only rolls his eyes at his two idiotic friends. 

"What do I do now?" Rhysand turns away from them again, looking at the rain-covered window once more. "How do I get rid of it? And how do I get a good painting for my office instead?"

"What? You don't like the painting Amren made for you?" Morrigan, his cousin, appears on the threshold, red heels eliciting a clicking sound with every step she takes into the office. "I warned you about her artistic talent, but you wouldn't listen." 

If someone looked close enough they would have seen that Azriel's breath caught for a small second, a flicker of a moment, but the man quickly turns his attention back to Rhys, waiting for him to answer.

The blond female tosses a pile of papers onto her cousin's desk and grins at him. "It truly looks like a tornado broke loose and whooshed all over the canvas."

"That's also a great description," Cassian quips, air-high-fiving Morrigan who winks at him. 

"You need to give her more work to do. She has too much free time and gets bored easily. I am scared she picks up knitting —or worse sewing— next and makes clothes for all of us."

Rhysand throws his cousin a look over his shoulder that speaks volumes. "She has enough work to do…but I assume she gets bored when she is done working, Maybe you should spend more time with her." A gleeful smile graces his handsome face and now Morrigan is the one to flip him off. 

"I live with her, Rhys, I already spend all my time with her." Lifting one hand, the female brushes a strand of blond hair over her shoulder, braces her other hand on her hip and then turns to the other two men. She gives them a once over, thinking, and then turns back to Rhys. "I might know someone who could help you."

But Rhysand doesn't deign her a look anymore, eyes focused on a distant point outside. His gaze wanders beyond the droplets, into the city itself. Not much can be seen from up here, but movement still catches his eye.

"She's wonderful, just finished her degree, aiming to become a big artist. She is not new to the branch and has lot of talent, her pieces are wonderful, almost outstanding, and—"

"I doubt she can create a painting for my office. She's probably a street artist doing portraits of people who pass by. I need a real artist. A good one."

"Like Amren," Azriel throws in and earns himself a round of laughter. Not from Rhys. He isn't laughing, his face stays stern, annoyed. "Very funny," he comments. 

"You are impossible!" Mor huffs dramatically. "She is amazing, Rhys," she insists, "not a street artist, well she might be now, but she will be great and well-known in a few years. She has a certain way with the brush, creating magnificent pieces of—"

"Alright, invite her here and we will see about it." Rhys leans forward, eyes furrowed, transfixed on a female figure rushing through the rain towards a narrow alley. It's a deadlock and someone—

"She can't be worse than Amren, can she?" he mumbles, suddenly very unfocused on the conversation. 

Someone is following the female figure outside. The rain distorts his sight, his office, elevated and the city below shrouded in darkness, adds to the difficulty of seeing the scene properly. And even though, he doesn't know the figure outside a feeling of unease fills his entire being. It's like an unfamiliar sensation he can't shake off, a pit of unease forming in his stomach. 

"You are rude, Rhys," his cousin comments, but he ignores her.

 All his attention is on the rushing female outside. And the men following her. 

She darts into the alley, disappearing momentarily from view. Rhys's mind races, assessing the situation, the potential risks. His heartbeat quickens, and he himself is surprised about this reaction. 

The city outside his window is drenched in rain, no people are around who can help her. 

His gaze moves to the watch on his wrist - 7:07. It is already dark outside, one of the wonders of autumn. 

He hesitates for a moment, torn between staying in the warm confines of his office and the prospect of later climbing into his car, now parked in the carpark of his company, and then safely and soundly driving home, or— 

Something about the situation gnaws at him, urging him to take action, urging him to move. 

He turns from the window, quickly, and with a swift movement, grabs his coat. "One second," he tells his best friends, his cousin, not giving them room to ask for where he is going. 

He dashes out of his office, ditching the elevator that would take too long to arrive, taking the stairs instead, two steps at a time.

Outside, the rain pours down on him, soaking through his clothes within seconds. But he covers his face with his hand, shielding his vision from the rain. Rhys hurdles towards the alleyway, his heart pounding in his chest, rapidly. 

───── ⋆⋅☆·⋆ ─────

"You know how he is." Feyre slumps against the door with a loud and terribly annoyed sigh. "He won't ever let go. He is so persistent and he can't accept that I moved on."

"Classic Tamlin, I would say," Ressian chuckles and tosses her damp brush, the one she had just washed out and cleaned of colour, at Feyre. "I never understood why you got with him in the first place. He always seemed a little…strange." Ressina presses her lips in a thin line, watching Feyre closely. 

Feyre shrugs a shoulder, after having casually dodged the brush that came flying at her. "He was nice at the beginning," she says matter-of-factly. 

Ressian fights the urge to roll her eyes because she never liked Tamlin that much. 

Feyre shrugs again. "Whatever, I'll juts turn my phone off until tomorrow morning…maybe he'll get the memo. "Grabbing her bag, Feyre swings it over her shoulder, then shoves her phone into the outer pocket and grabs her pencil case (the one that does not fit into the bag) and a few spare sketch books (that also don't fit into her bag). 

But Ressina stops her, holding up a hand. "Don't you dare turn off your phone until you are home! It's dark outside already. New York City is dangerous, baby."

"Danger means nothing to me," Feyre says with a chuckle, but there is gratitude in her eyes. 

Ressina cares about her, and the young artist knows this. She will keep her phone on, and also close to her so in case of an emergency she can reach for it. But she doubts she will need it. She has walked the way home to her flat many times - also at night. 

A frown appears on her friend's face and she lifts her hand, to show Feyre a vulgar gesture for so bluntly ignoring her worry. 

"I will be safe, Sina. Thank you for caring and worrying about me." Feyre smiles. And reluctantly, Ressian returns the smile. "That's what friends are for, right?" She grabs her own coat of the hanger. "Text me when you get home, so I can sleep in peace."

Feyre bows her head and with her heart warming at the wonderful friend she has found leaves the studio.

The art gallery's doors close behind her with a creak, and the young artist is immediately enveloped in the damp, and cool evening air of New York City. Cars honk everywhere, streetlights draw shadows across the large building and despite the smell of fuel in the air, Feyre draws in a deep inhale. 

The rain leaves a soft sheen of water on the streets and Feyre groans audibly - she is wearing her new Converse after all and they are not made for wet streets. The weather forecast didn't tell her about rain, but then…she hadn't checked it so she couldn't have known.

 It is just bad luck, she concludes. Just like her failed relationship with Tamlin, heir to the Springer company and now her ex-boyfriend. That was also a whole lot of bad luck. 

Feyre, holding her sketchbooks as tightly and closely as possible, hoping to shield them from the drizzle, takes one small step after the other, her feet still somehow walking fast. 

Her hair is dampened by the rain, and she clutches the sketchbooks even tighter when a car drives past her. She hurries through the dimly lit alleys, her shoes sounding against the wet pavement. 

She just wants to get home. As quick as possible. And…only to go out again. 

She has to go out again later. She needs to get groceries. For her ill father. And probably also Elain, her older sister, who looks after their father. With Nesta at the dance academy four hours away, the two of them are left with dealing with their ill father. Feyre is incredibly happy that Elain does all the taking care of him, and she only has to go shopping for their food, but right now she just wants to fall into bed and zone out for the day. The day has been stressful enough. 

"No way," Feyre huffs under her breath when she feels how the rain intensifies, tiny droplets falling onto her head and running down her face. She pulls her coat tighter, over her sketchbooks, her breath forming small clouds in the chilly air. 

The sounds of shuffling from other pedestrians heading to their homes or wherever they are going, is only interrupted by her ragged breaths and the occasional honk of a car. Soon, Feyre thinks. Soon I am in my home. And soon I will leave it again…What a mess.

She doesn't allow herself to think further about it. To think about leaving her cosy home again. 

The rain-slicked streets of New York reflect the glow of the city and under different circumstances Feyre would marvel at them, try to remember them so she could paint them later. Not today. Not when the sky is emptying itself on top of her. She hurries along, her steps quickening with every passing block. Her arms strain under the weight of all her stuff, hoping not too much water will get on it. But since the raindrops already soak through her coat, her hope that her sketches will be safe is slowly fading. 

Out of the blue, Feyre catches movement in the corner of her eye. It is different to the other people passing by (the few who also have no other choice than walking in the rain) or the cars driving by. 

A prickling sensation skitters down her spine, her instincts suddenly on high alert. Something is amiss. 

Brave as she is, Feyre casts a glance over her shoulder, squinting through the watery veil that restricts her vision. Her breath catches in her throat - amidst the raindrops she makes out three shadowy figures. They are too close and don't look like they mean well. 

Her heart beats faster, the rush of blood pounding in her ears louder than the drumming rain. But her vision doesn't fool her. She can see what is behind her: three men. And they are coming her way.

Panic surges within her, and she forces herself to move faster, the urgency to escape propelling her over the sidewalk, away from the danger. She quickens her pace, the echoes of her steps ricocheting off the walls of the looming buildings. 

But the men stay behind her, close to her. They’re gaining on her. She doesn't even allow herself to think about what they could possibly want from her. 

Everything about this situation is unnerving. These men following her. And running in the rain - she has to be careful, she can't be too fast, it could be dangerous. She doesn't see quite well with the sheet of rain covering her vision. She might collide with something which would not be beneficial for her escape either. 

And then. "Fuck!" Feyre shudders. The alleyway ahead is a dead end. 

She halts, her chest heaving, her eyes wide with terror as the footsteps behind her draw nearer. Her thoughts race, heart beating in her throat. She clutches her things tightly, fighting the urge to scream. It would be useless anyway. No one would hear her. And even if someone did, she doubts anyone would help. That's how people are, she has come to learn. 

Three figures emerge from the mist, bodies and faces drenched in rain. 

"Stay away from me!" Feyre snaps, her voice not half as steady and strong as she hoped it would be. 

They ignore her. “If you have any money on you, hand it over,” one of them demands. 

She trembles, her breath hitching. She would give them all her money only for them to leave her alone. With trembling hands, she moves her stuff under her arm, trying to open her bag and fish for her purse. 

The rain continues to fall, getting stronger by the minute, drowning out all the other noises. She occasionally lifts her gaze, making sure they don't move closer. 

"Faster!" one man shouts. "Or should we make you?" He looks almost nervous. 

Feyre's heart is racing. She can't find her purse. She simply can't find. Did she forget it in the studio? It wouldn't be the first time. They ordered food and— 

Panic gnaws on her, terror making the contents of her stomach sour. She has no idea what these men are capable of. How much they need the money. To what lengths they would go to get it. The damn purse must be somewhere, Feyre thinks, but it—

"There you are. I've been looking for you." The sudden, deep, sensual male voice startles her. She whips her head up, blinking her eyes rapidly against the rain wetting her face. 

A tall man, drenched in rain, steps out of the shadows of the entry to the alley, having surprised not only Feyre but also the three men. "I hope these men are not causing you any trouble, my darling?"

He casually moves past the men, the downpour of rain drenching him, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He slips a casual arm around her shoulders and even through the rain Feyre can see how the three men pale. 

"I was waiting for you at the car." He turns his attention to the men then. "Thank you for finding her for me," her saviour says to them, smooth and polished. "I mean, that is what you have been doing right?" His voice is so terribly calm. "You may leave now, unless there's anything you want to say."

There is enough of a bite in his last words that the men stiffen. 

Silent threats, Feyre thinks, the worst kind of threats. But the men are foolish, don't leave straight away and suddenly the anger is not so silent anymore.

"Get out of here! Now. And if one of you ever dares to follow and scare my wife ever again, I will personally send you to hell."

Without further comment, they scuttle back into the rain, outside the alley. 

Feyre, her heart pounding against her ribcage, steps out of the shelter of her saviour's arm and turns to thank him, but she stops dead in her tracks. 

Standing before her the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. "Are you alright?" he asks, voice much softer now. Gentler. 

He brushes his broad hand over his head, smoothing his wet strands of hair out of his face. 

Feyre is too stunned to speak. Too shocked about the situation. Too careful to yet fully trust the man. Her saviour.

"I—I." Feyre struggles to find her voice. Normally men don’t evoke this sort of reaction in her, but his presence, what he has done for her, and his scent of sea salt and citrus that even reaches her through the rain, render her speechless.

"I—"

She is about to open her mouth to thank him when he beats her to it. "You're welcome," he says. "For saving you."

Saviour or not, she bristles at his arrogance and retreats another step. Tendrils of breath are visible in front of her face when she clears her throat. "I was about to thank you."

The man inclines his head, a small smile on his in raindrops-covered face. "Allow me to give you a ride home."

"Thank you but no." Feyre grabs her things tighter and makes to move past him. She wants to go home now. She only wants to fall into her bed. This days has been too much. He saved her, and she is grateful, but their ways are parting here. 

"Please, allow me to take you home. Just a ride, I don’t expect anything—"

"Oh, I will hope so. I should have known that you are just like every men. Pretty face, old money clothes, and—whatever." If she had a free hand she would wave him off. Her words don't even make sense, but probably he just like any other man. Now offering to take her home and when they arrive at her place he expects her to take him upstairs and thank him for saving her.

She shoves past him. "Thank you, really, but I am a big girl, I can take care of myself. Good night, stranger."

It’s not in her nature to be mean, but the day has drained her. She is not in the mood to talk to him any longer. Yes, he saved her and with his violet eyes and the dark hair, he is very easy on the eyes. But Feyre is not in the mood. To talk. To have him drive her home. To spend time with a man. She is tired of men. Especially after her last relationship. 

She wants to sleep and that is it. And that is the only thing she wants to do this evening. No talking. No thinking. No being in a stranger's car. She only wants to be in her bed, warm and cosy. 

She doesn’t even give the stranger a chance to ask her again, the last please muffled due to the heavy rain, the next one not audible any more because she is already out of ear-shot, heart still racing inside her chest. 

tags: @girlinglass999 @autumndreaming7 @a-frog-with-a-laptop@honeysuckle-daydreams13 @thelovelymadone

#feysand #rhysand #feyre archeron #acotar #acosf #feysand au

[antennaed-shidou]

A Cheat

❆ Eita Otoya x f! reader

❆ Warning: not prof-read,

❆ Misc: Word Count: 900+ 12 days of Christmas special with the Blue Lock Boys. 6/12 days with he needs more screen time Eita Otoya. Hope you enjoy it.

❆ In which you caught your boyfriend cheating.

“What do you mean he's cheating?” Crystal asked {Y/n} as she took another sip of her coffee. 

“I have this gut feeling. I don’t know what it is. But something feels wrong with him,” She responds with a heavy sigh at the end. 

“Yeah whatever you say, girl. Just know he does love you even if he doesn’t say it much. Otoya would never cheat on you.” She shook her head putting down the cup of coffee.

{Y/n} rolled her eyes, “Really, Crystal? Why are you on his side anyway?”

“Because I know he loves you,” She replies plain and simple

“Sure, but he's probably said that to every woman he's dated. I'm most likely just another one.” {Y/n} couldn’t believe any word her friend was saying. She knew about all of Otoya ex’s and how he treated them. All the cheating and half-assed relationships he’s been in. Along with the woman way more beautiful than her. 

{Y/n} was just another one to add to the pile of average exes and past relationships he would forget in the long run. “I’m going home, Crystal.” The [h/c[-haired female got up throwing away her trash “It was nice to see you again. Bye.” She waved at her friend before she left the cafe. 

Crystal sat there letting out a long breathy sigh. She knew what {Y/n} was trying to do. But she couldn’t stop her so what was the point in trying? Might as well enjoy the coffee and desserts.

{Y/n} got a ride home. When she arrived she found that the door was locked even though Otoya was home. Lucky for her she had the extra pair of keys to get in. 

She carefully and quietly walked into the house trying to find anything suspicious. In the end, though she had found nothing. The female still had speculations about her boyfriend cheating, she knew he could be good at hiding it. 

Otoya was sitting in the living room watching some TV. although most of his attention was on his phone. He was scrolling through Instagram looking at who knows what. His girlfriend didn’t care all too much what he did and what was looking at. The only rule he has is not to cheat on her and if he didn’t love her then he should just break up. But he did love her so why would he want to cheat and break up with her?

“I would never cheat in you, {Y/n}. I love you. I love you like no other,” Otoya pleaded, but he wasn’t lying. Everything he was saying and was going to say is true and from the heart.

“Sure you are. You’ve probably said that to every other woman you’ve ever dated. I’m no special.” {Y/n} huffed and shouted. But all this was coming out of her mouth because she was afraid. 

“You are special that’s what you don’t understand. I truly love you {Y/n}. I only promised to marry you no one else.”

“Oh, please. Don’t sugar me with lies. It’s sickening.”

“I’m not lying. I don’t have to guts to tell a lie to you. I’ve only said that to you. I’ve only said I’ll marry you.” He begged and begged for her to listen. 

She crossed her arms, “So what about it? Why are you bringing such things up?”

“I’ve only promised to ever marry you. No one else would satisfy my needs.” He reached into his back pocket. “Even ask Crystal. She’s been helping me with everything.” Otoya slowly got down on one knee, “Even picking out the ring.” He opened the small box showing a nice size gold ring, “So will you marry me?” Finally, he popped the question he’s been waiting to ask for so long. 

{Y/n} was rather shocked, to say the least. “Really but all this makes no sense.” Otoya was confused by her question. “You’ve been avoiding me. Hanging around more women don’t think I didn’t notice. And even Crystal thought you both didn’t like each other.”

Otoya was still on one knee as he was explaining everything to calm her suspicions. “I wanted Crystal’s advice on the ring and what you would like. The reason I’ve been avoiding you is so I don’t spill the secret.”

“Ok,” {Y/n} spoke, “But that doesn't explain the extra women in your story.”

“They were for extra help on planning, it was their job and I paid them. I promise. I did all that and spent all that money because I do love only you {Y/n}.” Otoya said every word was true not one single fault.

“Then get up off your knees and kiss me, Otoya,” {Y/n} says pulling him up by his collar lifting him from the ground, and interlocking a kiss with her new and only fiance. 

Otoya was quite surprised when she did that. I mean she was bold, but that was bold. He broke the kiss putting the ring on her finger. The two touched their forehead as she looked at the gold engagement ring. “By the way, this is one of your Christmas presents.”

“Then what’s the rest, big boy.” She spoke softly putting arms around his neck pulling for another kiss. 

“Why not go to the bedroom and I can show you a few more.” Oyota gave her another kiss then carried his fiancee into the bedroom dropping her off on the bed. Showing her a few more gifts for the night.

a/n: whoa love sure makes you do crazy things. Crazy enough to make you marry someone. Follow my other account, Wattpad: Antennaed_Shidou

#fanfic #blue lock #bllk #blue lock manga #blue lock x reader #mk. oneshots #mk. blue lock #otoya eita #otoya x reader #bllk otoya #bllk x reader #bllk scenarios #bllk x you #christmas special

[the-au-thor]

Babysitting Mun | Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Fem!reader

Note: So, a lot of you asked me for more parts to the little thing I wrote for rockstar!Eddie and you know you should ask and I'll deliver. If you like this I'll add more parts into this "series" cause I kinda like the dynamic between Assistant!Reader and Rockstar!Eddie.

Part 1

W/C: 3.2k

T/W: Read here!

As you walked through Eddie's property in Hollywood Hills, you saw him opening the door in his black velvet robe with his old D&D club emblem printed on the back. He had a worried expression on his face, and his legs were nervously fidgeting.

"It's my day off, Munson," you greeted as you reached his door.

He said your least favorite six words.

"Fey, I'm in a big trouble," he announced, opening the door and letting you into the huge foyer of his house.

It was a huge mess; underwear scattered on the floor, candy wrappers, empty bottles, and frankly, you didn't want to dig through the scattered blankets that left a trail upstairs. You looked at him impatiently, trying not to scream at him because that mess wasn't your home, and he could do whatever he wanted with it.

"This looks like a quiet Friday night, Munson, like any citizen of this beautiful city would have," you mentioned ironically.

Living a few blocks away was Marilyn Manson, Eddie could really recognize your tone.

"I met this girl: Baby," he said.

You blinked slowly.

"Cute name, I think my gynecologist also uses that stage name."

Eddie ignored your sardonic comment as he walked through the trash on the floor.

"She spent the night here, and it was amazing; sexy girl, beautiful blonde with... really long legs..."

You wanted to vomit.

"Munson. I'm not just another guy in your circle of friends, that's information I don't need to know," you reminded him with a churned stomach. "Why am I even here after receiving a call from you with a catastrophe voice?" you asked as he led you to his kitchen. Before entering, he looked at you with concern. You hadn't even seen him like this when he trashed the Marriott room, and photos of that night were leaked on a very famous morning show next day "Tell me she's not floating dead from an overdose in your pool because I'm telling you right now that I quit," you announced seriously.

He pressed his lips and stretched his arm toward the kitchen door; his robe opened, and you managed to see a bit of his chest full of tattoos covering the scars he never wanted to talk about.

"Worse," he announced before opening the door.

His huge kitchen greeted you. Everything seemed in order except for the dishwasher, which had a pile of dirty dishes. You scanned it, moving your gaze across the countertop and appliances until you reached the end of the marble table adorning the center of his kitchen, where a little boy with a curious knitted hat was sitting, concentrating on drawing something on a notebook with markers.

You closed the door to shout at Eddie without scaring the child.

"There's a kid in your kitchen," you pointed out, shocked with a muffled squeal. "What's a kid doing in your house, for God's sake. This is not a place for a child; this is not even a place for me."

"I don't know!" he whispered back, ignoring your offensive comment. That's when you knew he was really worried. "I went down this morning to make myself a smoothie, and I found him in the same spot. Little brat doesn't hear anything I say."

"Yeah? Well, sometimes I wish I didn't hear all the things you say," you frowned, opening the kitchen door again and walking toward the kid.

The little one had reddish strands peeking out from the edges of his hat and seemed clean and calm despite being alone in a huge house with a stranger who couldn't take care of himself properly. Unfazed, the kid continued coloring a drawing in his notebook, and you noticed a Animaniacs backpack behind him.

"Hey," you greeted him, then saw him coloring a dark-skinned man in what seemed to be a family portrait. You introduced yourself as you sat next to him. "What's your name?"

"I shouldn't talk to strangers," the child finally muttered, revealing a sweet and calm voice.

You smiled, almost proud that an unknown child could take care of himself despite, what? Being about 5 or 6 years old?

"That's okay," you nodded. "But you shouldn't be in a stranger's house either," you murmured, trying to reason with the child.

Eddie lost patience, after pinching the bridge of his nose, he put his palms on the island's surface, making the child stop coloring and look at him, scared.

"Where's your mother?" he asked.

"Munson!" you scolded him, but he didn't seem to regret his little outburst, especially since he at least got a reaction from the kid.

"For crying out loud, Fey, I've tried asking him a hell numerous times about his mother, and he still won't answer," Eddie explained, pointing his finger at the child.

"She said she'd come for me; I don't know if she mentioned anything else while she was with you," the kid spoke seriously, and you noticed that Eddie wasn't very well-liked.

Eddie pressed his lips and pointed his index finger at him.

"Look, you little sh..."

"Oh, okay!" you stood up to intervene, taking Eddie by the shoulders. "You know, superstar? I think I can handle it from here. You go..." you looked at him closely; he was wearing mismatched socks, and his hair was a mess "go brush your teeth and... wash yourself" you started pushing him out of the kitchen.

"I need you to fix this, Fey."

You frowned and lowered your voice.

"I should let you fix it yourself, you know?" you asked. "But that kid isn't to blame if his mother prefers a man over his own safety," you spat angrily and laughed sardonically, "you sure know how to pick 'em," you murmured almost disdainfully.

 You had never criticized his flings, even when the most terrible girls had done the walk of shame right in front of you, you had kept your opinions to yourself. Moreover, you also acknowledged a severe emotional problem in Eddie, something about fear of commitment, yet seeking love as long as he was safe from getting hurt. Still, you hadn't opened your mouth to comment on it. This was the limit.

"I'll find out about his parents and try to contact her," you assured him before closing the kitchen door in his face without letting him defend himself and turning to look at the child who watched the exchange you and Eddie had had.

"I hate mom's boyfriends," the child finally admitted before returning to his coloring.

You sighed somewhat sadly for him; it was clear he was more than used to being in strange houses with people he didn't know.

"I know, but the good thing is that the grumpy one over there is not her boyfriend, so don't hate him too much, okay?" you asked, although you really didn't owe Eddie anything. You sat back down next to him. "Did your mommy give you any instructions before she left?"

The boy shrugged.

"She said to be a good boy, not to bother, and that she would come to get me before the day ended."

You nodded uncertain about what the hell that could mean to that woman "before the day ended."

"Okay," you picked up your cell phone and called Florence, the housekeeper, to start cleaning up the mess Eddie left in the main room and probably in his bedroom as well. You didn't want to find out, to be honest

"I clean too, you know…when my mom is too tired to do anything," the kid said when you finished the call.

You looked at the child and squinted thoughtfully.

"How old are you?"

"I'm turning eight next month."

You raised your eyebrows.

"Great, have someone ever told you that you're very mature for a seven-year-old? It's good that you take care of your mom."

The boy looked up from his notebook and glanced at you for a few seconds.

"My name is Tobias, they call me Toby."

You smiled.

"Nice to meet you, Tobias, I already told you my name, right?"

"But he called you Fey."

You chuckled when you saw that he was referring to Eddie.

"Yeah, he kind of plays by his own rules, so don't worry, Toby," you leaned on the island and smiled at him. "Toby, this is not a place for a child, and if I take you with me, it will be difficult for your mother to find you. Is there any way I can contact someone else from your family?" you asked, hoping the kid had at least one functional adult who could help him.

The child seemed pensive.

"I have my emergency information in my backpack," he recalled, and you smiled relieved, jumping away from the island and going for his backpack.

"All right, Toby, did you eat anything?"

"Mom gave me cereal before she left," he changed markers and continued drawing carefully.

"Cereal doesn't sound enough, do you want me to make you some toast with eggs and bacon? Honestly, I'm famished and could use something to eat," you announced as you prepared the food for Toby.

When Eddie and the band weren't on tour, you made sure to fill Eddie's fridge and pantry with things that weren't preheated and frozen food. When you were hired as his assistant over a year ago, this wasn't part of your duties, but you couldn't see him get intoxicated with poorly frozen pizza again. It was easier to keep track of his diet when you were on tour with them; they spent most of their time together, and that's when he behaved the best. It was during breaks like these when he lost a bit of control and got into trouble he couldn't handle alone.

You and Toby ate, and you saved some for Eddie whenever he wanted to came down from his room, already bathed and dressed in something more than just underwear and a robe. Florence went to the kitchen to clean up the mess Eddie had left there, and you went to the living room where the housekeeper made magic. When Eddie came down from his room, he was wearing an old black-sleeved shirt and worn-out jeans. His feet, however, were bare, showing the tattoos he had gotten a few weeks ago.

"Finally," you stood up with your phone when you saw Eddie starting to walk to the sofa and looking at Toby with despair. He looked at you somewhat impatiently.

"And he's still here," he rolled his eyes slightly resigned and sighed.

"I'm sorting that out now; I need you to stay with Toby for a few minutes. His mother hasn't shown any signs of life, but I have his father's contact," you asked him with a low voice so that Toby, sitting on the sofa while trying to solve some math problems from his algebra class, wouldn't hear.

"Oh, so the little Boggle has a name," he said sarcastically.

"Behave!" you asked him with a frown and approached him to wipe shaving foam from his chin as he obediently stood still. "We left French toast and egg with bacon for you," you announced, while going to the kitchen to prepare Toby's food.

Eddie rolled his eyes slightly resigned and sighed.

"Great: he stays in my house, eats my food, and now I have to be his babysitter."

"Yeah, Munson," you nodded, "it's good for you to occasionally taste your own medicine."

"You better find that kid's father, Fey; it's been a while since I dealt with kids, and I wasn't very good at it either," he admitted.

"Yeah, yeah," you started dialing Toby's father's number and walked to the backyard so as not to have an awkward conversation in front of the kid. "Do me a favor and don't create emotional permanent scars on him, okay?"

He made a face, sticking his tongue out and hissing like a snake, earning Toby's curious look.

"What?" Eddie asked. "Have you never been a kid in your life?"

Toby settled on the sofa somewhat tense.

"Sometimes I stick my tongue out at mom when she doesn't see me," he admitted.

Eddie watched him; he was a little goblin with round glasses and somewhat chubby. Not only was he lost, but he seemed lost, and suddenly for a brief moment, Eddie saw himself in a corner of the cafeteria where his mom worked, drawing magical creatures in an old notebook while waiting for it to be midnight so his mom's shift would end and he could go home. His mom would never have left him alone in a stranger's house, of course. The kid's mother was hot, but stupid, totally stupid.

"Okay, Pip, what are you doing?" Eddie saw his notebook and closed it even to the little protest of the child. "You're not going to be doing this on a Saturday in my house; you're what? Four?"

"I'm turning eight," he said through gritted teeth.

"You and I are going to listen to music, okay? Have you ever heard music before?"

"I'm seven, not an alien," he replied, almost offended.

Eddie went to pick a record from his vinyl collection and gave you a knowing smile.

"Let's educate you, Pip."

"My name isn't Pip," the kid said tiredly, remembering what you had told him about Eddie playing by his own rules.

Eddie then put the record on his record player, and the music started playing.

Tobias's father was leaving his job at the mechanic downtown to go pick him up from Eddie's house. Having a conversation with him wasn't difficult, and he seemed genuinely concerned about his son, so at least you were getting back inside Eddie's house with the relief of returning the kid to someone who actually cared. You heard the music before stepping inside the house, Toby's laughter mixing with Eddie's and Kevin Rowland's voice. When you passed by the living room, Eddie had managed to get the kid to leave the notebook aside and had taken off his shoes to dance to the music, mimicking Eddie in his delirious spiral as he tried to play air guitar following the notes of Geno.

You watched them; Eddie's still wet hair bouncing around his face as he encouraged Toby to follow the music and listen to the bass because that's where the beat is or something like that. You leaned against the wall to watch their act for the rest of the song. Your stomach did that again; every time Eddie showed some substance beneath that tough shell of indifference.

You disappeared from there and only returned to announce that Toby's father had arrived to pick him up, finding Eddie trying to teach him a cooler way to tie his shoelaces. You smiled at the kid and guided him to his father who was waiting outside with his well-maintained Volkswagen. Toby ran to his father, and he hugged him lovingly; there was no trace of neglect.

"I really appreciate you taking care of him; I don't know how to repay you," he thanked you, still holding the boy in his arms. The man had somewhat dark skin and curly hair, like Toby's. "My ex-wife is a bit careless and thinks everyone can take care of him. I'll talk to her; I know this looks bad."

"It's not your fault," you began to deny, but Eddie took over the conversation.

"Tell her she's a very S-H-I-T-T-Y mother, and I hope she appreciates the son she has," he mentioned bluntly in a low voice so that Toby wouldn't hear.

You slightly chuckled because Eddie had at least meant well by insulting Toby's mother without him noticing.

"Eddie, I'm seven, I already know how to spell," the boy wriggled out of his father's embrace to give Eddie a furrowed brow.

Well, at least he had the intention. It didn't work, but it's the thought that counts.

"I'm Nelson, by the way," he introduced himself, shaking Eddie's hand. "I'm sorry you had to be my son's babysitter."

"I'm sorry I slept with your ex," Eddie mentioned bluntly, without mincing words, and close to the guy's ear so that Toby wouldn't hear.

"No problem," he even seemed amused by it. "Lilian is free to do what she wants."

So she has a name…

Eddie gave you a sidelong glance, and you just smiled back at Nelson because you wouldn't throw one of your witty sarcastic comments.

Finally, Toby said goodbye to Eddie, and you could see a sad gleam in his eyes, seeming like a huge difference from the way the kid had looked at him annoyed that morning in the kitchen. Eddie Munson, of course, would manage to win over the kid whose mother had put aside for a brief fling with a rocker who you were sure would end up being just a forgettable event. You hugged Toby, trying not to lose your composure, reminding yourself that the kid wasn't your responsibility, and bid them both farewell with a smile.

You and Eddie watched the car disappear behind the large fortified gates of his mansion, and then you heard him chuckle.

"She was sexier when she was Baby, not Lilian," he murmured humorously.

You raised a slight smile and laughed, crossing your arms to look at him sideways.

"And when she was just a girl with long legs and not a  S-H-I-T-T-Y mother, huh?" Eddie rolled his eyes but didn't refute your comment. "You'd be a very B-A-D-A-S-S father by the way."

He frowned quickly, incredulous.

"What the hell are you talking about, Fey?"

You turned to him, trying to hide your smile.

"About you with Toby; you won him over, Mun. I think when you decide to settle down and stop doing stupid shits that I have to save you from, you'll be a very good father."

He blinked rapidly, incredulous.

"Did you find the jewelry box in my underwear drawer and smoke whatever was inside?"

You frowned.

"a) I would never go through your underwear drawer by  my own will, and b) thanks for telling me where you hide your crap," you replied quickly. "I'm not joking, Munson, I mean it from the heart."

He seemed to hate that idea, although something in his gaze seemed somewhat moved, but he quickly made it disappear with a look of disgust.

"Not gonna discuss that with you, Fey. I won't be a good father 'cause I'm never gonna be a father in first place"

You frowned ready to argue about that

"But, Munson..."

"Feywild, I pay you to be my assistant, not my motivational coach; assist me."

"Fine, I already assisted you on my day off, so I think this is my cue to leave," you went for your bag into his Foyer, and when you came out, Eddie was waiting for you in the same place, in the opulent entrance of his home next to the marble pillars holding the front facade. "I hope I don't have to come because you adopted another one of your girl's babies, okay?" you asked, but you weren't really blaming him for anything.

Eddie noticed it from the way you looked at him, and you decided to do that small servile bow that, unwittingly, you always did when you said goodbye to him or accepted one of his complicated tasks. He saw you start walking out, where you surely parked your car.

"Feywild," he called you, and you turned to him. You had strands of your hair on your face, and he saw your slightly worn-out converse sneakers, which you always wore even though you had money to replace them but for some reason were emotionally attached to them.

He could tease you about it, but he wouldn't. He understood without you explaining it because there was a reason he kept his old van in his garage with the same scraped paint.

"What's up, Munson, already missing me?"

He smiled. "Thanks for saving my ass today."

You pressed your lips into a smile. "Always, Mun."

#eddie munson x female reader #rockstar!eddie x reader #rockstar!eddie munson x assistant!reader #rockstar eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson frenemies to lovers #corroded coffin #eddie munson #stranger things fanfic #stranger things au #edie munson au

[shiny-jr]

Hnnnnn, okay now I really want to just talk about the Coraline TWST thing.

1-Grim probably would also have a button counterpart.

2-instead of eyes, I think Yuu could play something like finding in each dorm where their real friends were captured, like Hearts is a set of cards, Savana is a collar of 3 different type of teeth, etc.

3- Sam knows about it but it’s actually scared of intervening, so instead, he gives hints as to try to make Yuu not enter. And his friends from the other side give Yuu something in secret, so they can help.

4-Who replaces the cat is none other than Lucius, who talks like a pampered noble that knows something. But if you wanna remove the role of the cat ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

5- The more Yuu goes through the Other Twisted, the more spiders appears, dust piles on more quickly than they can clean and they feel constantly watched.

6-Instead of a full on doll that resembles Yuu, I was thinking of a charm, a cute spider like charm that has a cute bell in the shape of a heart. Oddly enough, their friends can’t hear the bell ring.

I didn't think anyone would actually be interested in that random idea. You seeing this, @wolken-himmel?

Let me try to formulate my thoughts on this again. So, there's that cat in the movie that can go back and forth between worlds and eventually helps Coraline live. I think that could be either Grim or Lucius. If you want a story without Grim, then just go with Lucius and make him more mysterious and stuff. If you want Grim in the story, then just put him in the role and give them more moments together.

I liked this idea. Not sure about the collars because that's a little strange. Maybe other objects though, but that would be a lot of pieces to collect for each dorm.

I really like the Sam idea?? Basically he'd kinda know what was up, but doesn't do too much besides give mc warnings. So his friends on the other side would kinda almost be like the equivalent of the good mice. It would add in to the creepy factor, if the mc is just seeing shadows around their place and doesn't know what they are at first.

Look at 1.

Not too sure about this one. In the movie, the actual house remains the same. But in the other realm, it appears way more lively and vibrant and the only reason it starts appearing worse overtime is because that's when Coraline starts to realize things are wrong and begins to take away the Other Mother's powers that help sustain the realm. Unless that's what you meant?

The bell idea is interesting, but not convinced on the spider. Would the MC feel more interest/creeped out by a doll that strangely looks like them or by a random charm they assume was just trash in storage?

#shiny speaks

[snowe-zolynn-rogers]

Pairings: None

Word Count: 1,624 Words

Summary: Jigsaw is not happy the twins are alive. He does something about that to someone he

Warnings: Kidnapping, Eye Trauma, Trauma, Injury, Torture (mentioned), Caps, Cursing, Death (mentioned only), Permanent Injury, Partial Amnesia/Suppressed Memories, Assault (mentioned only, implied/referenced), Vomiting (non-graphic), Abuse (mentioned only), let me know if I should add anything else.

This Is Your New Home: Chapter 2

KC blew out a sigh from his vents. His fire had gone out again. Wonderful. The damned rain had made everything far too wet to keep it lit for long. KC moved and grabbed the lighter and drier wood, sitting the old wood that hadn’t been fully burned yet to the pile of wool to dry and be reused if he could.

Upon tossing in the lit firestarter, which was cotton and old newspaper doused with lighter fluid, the flame burst back up again. Thankfully, the rain had died down now. But, the second he lit the flame again, he saw a person vaguely like Sun. Perhaps Sun had gotten a new model?

“Ah, you visit me again?” KC asked Sun.

“Aw, you think I’m your Sun?” A different voice sprouted up. This wasn’t Sun, it sounded…off. He looked up to see it was a broken and ruined model frame of yes, Sun, but also Moon. Who in the hell was this?

“Who are you? How do you know Sun?” KC asked.

“Oh, you’ll find out.” The person told him. KC expected him to sit, explain he was a dimensional traveler Sun and Moon had saved from a horrible situation as he’d heard they’d done recently.

But the animatronic did no such thing. KC only felt a sharp pain in the back of his head and blacked out. KC woke up strapped to a table, what was this?

“Oh, you woke up! Wonderful! Amazing! My name is Jigsaw and your name is Paradox!” The same bot that had been there before he blacked out cooed at him. ‘Paradox’? Like hell was his name Paradox. His chosen name was Crescent, though he had yet to tell it to anyone but his children.

“Where am I?” KC growled.

“Oh, just getting one procedure done.” Jigsaw told him.

“I do not require a procedure!” KC snapped.

“Oh but you dooooo. You require one big procedure. You’re not functioning properly.” Jigsaw giggled and KC growled feeling pain.

“Don’t touch me!” KC snapped at him.

“Awww, you’re not behaving either.” Jigsaw cooed like he was simply a child, which only festered his rage.

“Let me out!” KC snapped.

“I have one little requirement to let you out.” Jigsaw chuckled.

“What!?” KC snapped.

“Beg.” Jigsaw simply said and KC gave a scream feeling his optic ripped from its socket.

KC powered on, oh thank god, he powered on. He couldn’t navigate, why couldn’t he navigate? Where was he? He felt his face and felt his optic sockets empty and ruined wires hanging from them. Right, he was ruined.

He felt cold flooring under him but it was rather soft. He felt the divots of the padding, the daycare? The padded daycare floor. He had passed out sometime after he had his spine broken in half and finally begging to be released. He’d given into that sociopath, dammit!

KC felt the floor and tried to find something familiar, where was he in the daycare? Not the ball pit, nor the garden-like area of the floor. He felt the security desk to his left.

He had been left on his brothers’ doorstep like trash. He was pathetic. A pathetic father, a pathetic brother, a pathetic existence. He used the security desk as a guide and pulled a chair to his liking, using it to hit the objects on the desk itself.

It created a successful toppling effect on the desk and, thankfully, one of the objects toppled had managed to hit the keyboard as he’d wanted and turned on the emergency alert system.

“WHO IS THAT!?” Moon yelled down.

“Me! KC!” KC called back.

“Why the emergency alert?” Moon called closer-by. He was using his fly wire down maybe? But Moon was in the daycare with him.

“Do you know someone named Jigsaw?” KC asked.

“Yes, why?” Moon’s voice got frustrated.

“He hasssszzzz aaaa…he haaaaa-hasssss a message.” His voice box began fizzling from the mixture of battery acid and bleach. Great.

“What!?” Moon asked closer.

“I kn-kn-know you hhhhhhave themmmmm.” KC growled silently as his voice box finally fizzled out.

“Oh my fucking god!” Moon exclaimed rounding the desk and KC took a few breaths. He couldn’t explain further, this couldn’t get worse.

“Jesus Christ, what the fuck did he do to you!?” Moon roared, dropping down near him and getting him up into his arms, something rather easy for him given KC was smaller than him still in this body. He patted his throat to motion for his voice box being damaged.

“Fuck, I gotta fix you.” Moon growled with rage, pure unadulterated rage. He didn’t think he’d ever heard this Moon so angry.

“That demented fucker stole our little brother and tortured him.” He heard Moon tell someone. Sun maybe? Sun was the only other sibling he was younger than. Lunar was younger than him, Earth was hunter too. And his children…weren’t around.

KC blacked out again from the agony that was his spine prior to Jigsaw snapping it in two. He woke up still blind, he supposed Jigsaw had been telling the truth that he’d disable the feature in him permanently to sight.

He felt around and realized he was in Moon’s bed. With the lack of plushies or cats or excessive pillows, it had to be Moon’s bed of all his siblings.

“You’re awake. Thank fuck.” He heard Moon sigh with relief.

“We had been looking for you for a month, KC. You lost GPS signal a month ago.” Moon told him as he helped him sit up. Moon had thankfully fixed his spine, though the pressure of sitting on the new one hurt and ached.

“It’s been a month?” KC asked softly, holding and squeezing Moon’s hand at the pain in his back.

“You don’t remember?” Moon asked.

KC was about to respond but then it seemed like the dam broke. Yes, it had been a month. His mind had suppressed memories of what had happened to him. He suddenly remembered his pelvis being broken, ribs, knee joints, ankles, hips, all of which had happened before his spine was snapped.

Horror struck him. He’d forgotten? He felt nauseous and lurched forward. Moon’s hands on him quickly left and he had a trash can thrust into his hands just before he threw up, throat burning with bile he choked up.

He remembered why his memory was suppressed from the month. Jigsaw’s favorite method of torture toward him. It made him feel sick and dirty despite being in a repaired and likely spotless body, it even felt like a new body but it still felt dirty and exposed. But he still felt dirty enough he wanted to scratch off his casing.

“You don’t have to say why you threw up, I know. You must’ve suppressed your memories because of it.” Moon told him softly and he nodded in response. “KC, it’s not your fault.” Moon told him and he took in a shuddering breath to his engines, listening.

“You didn’t ask for this. You couldn’t have. What Jigsaw did to you isn’t your fault. You’re not anything he told you you are, you didn’t deserve this, you are not a mistake.” KC sniffled a little at Moon’s words.

“I…Thank you.” KC simply agreed. It wasn’t his fault, he’d only trusted Jigsaw thinking he was a traveler sent by Moon.

“I have something that could perk you up a little. It’s not like, therapy or anything, but it might make you a little happier. Or cry. Probably cry.” Moon rambled mostly to himself.

“What is it?” KC asked.

“Let me lead you? I’ll bet you’re still not used to walking around blind.” Moon asked.

“I’m not. You can.” KC agreed and Moon gently helped him to his feet, setting the trash bin back where it was likely to be cleaned later. Moon led him what he thought was the main balcony room, given he got led through a tunnel.

“Zodiac, Horoscope, this is KC. The one I told you about.” Moon introduced. “KC, this is Zodiac and Horoscope. Your sons.” KC looked toward Moon with disbelief. Moon made him two kids?

“Dad!” KC’s new but still unseeing eyes went wide. That was Blood Moon’s voice. Moon remade Blood Moon? KC suddenly got hugged by a smaller bot, a foot shorter than him. And it felt so nice to be hugged by who he assumed was his Blood Moon.

“That one’s Zodiac, the other is Horoscope.”

“Dad?” Harvest Moon’s voice. Horoscope. His name was Horoscope now. KC felt tears building up.

“You remade them?” KC asked, voice nearly breaking with his tears as Horoscope came to hug him as well with his twin.

“I didn’t. Jigsaw made them. It’s hard to say, but he made them, abused them, and then sent them here for me to kill. But I couldn’t do it. They’re my nephews and they didn’t deserve me to kill them when they were beaten and abused. I couldn’t do that. Lunar helped rename them. So the older twin is Zodiac and the younger is Horoscope.” Moon proudly told him.

KC immediately descended into tears, hugging his twins close, his babies.

“Oh, and this one. Solar, he can’t see you, say something.” Moon told someone.

“Parade me around like a show dog, why don’t you?” ‘Solar’ scoffed. Eclipse! His oldest son’s voice.

“Go hug your damn dad!” Moon seemingly pushed Solar because Solar ended up stumbling into KC’s arms. He had his three sons.

Not the originals, he couldn’t have them back, they existed in his memories now. But he had these three, these wonderful new sons and he choked back a sob as he hugged them as close as he possibly could, fearing they’d disappear if he didn’t.

#five nights at freddy's #fnaf #sun and moon show #sams #kill code moon #fnaf jigsaw eclipse #fnaf solstice #fnaf sun #fnaf moon #fnaf bloodmoon #fnaf zodiac #fnaf horoscope #fnaf good eclipse #fnaf solar #snoweywrites #tw kidnapping mention #tw eye trauma mention #tw injury mention #tw trauma mention #tw torture mention #tw caps #tw cursing #tw assault mention #tw vomit mention #tw abuse mention

[runningfrom2am]

achilles heel - V: red jetta

summary:

Grace is the very opposite of her brother in every way. when she finally moves onto campus at UNC Chapel Hill, she feels like she gets to be her own person, make her own friends, and hopefully start a promising career in the museum industry, and maybe, one day, get married to her high school sweetheart and live the American dream for herself. Rafe Cameron however, upon their very first meeting, throws a wrench in her very perfect plan.

tags/warnings:

rafe cameron x fem!oc, rafe is giving very much homewrecker, fanon!rafe (kinda), college!au, friends to lovers, slow-burn (maybe?), minimal oc description, drug and alcohol use, mostly unedited, (these tags are not exhaustive, lmk if i should add anything!)

wc: 1.8k

my master list

series masterlist

requests

January 25th, 2019

Grace dropped off the face of the earth for the two weeks that followed. Rotting away in her room, keeping up with readings as best as she could, but she truly struggled to even get out of bed. Her roommates would bring her food from the caf, and despite her not being extremely close with them they were so supportive. They'd all been through it before in a way that Grace never had. 

Ben had tried reaching out, and so did Rafe, a couple of times, but Grace would quickly delete them out of embarrassment that they even had to find out. That Rafe had to see her like that- he witnessed the whole thing, and she cringes at the idea of even having to look at him again. He was so sweet, though; he helped her get home, listened to her, and let her cry on his shoulder for what must have been hours. She ruined that party for him.

But enough is enough, and she has to get back into her classes. She can't sacrifice her GPA over Nate, and on some level she knows it will be healing for her if she does well despite him believing that he is so much smarter. She can rub a spot on the Dean's List in his face from a distance, if she must.

She'll go to class the next day. It's settled. She's making an effort to clean the mess that her room became, so unlike herself, when her roommate knocks on her door. "Grace? Can I come in?"

"Yeah." Grace answers, quickly throwing the trash in her hands into the bin next to her desk and facing the door as her friend walks in.

"Hey." She smiles sympathetically. "Woah, it looks great in here!" She says, looking around. 

Grace laughs a little bit, looking at the piles of clothes on the floor she's yet to clean up. "Well, not exactly.. I'm just trying to organize a bit before classes this week."

"Oh, you're going? That's great." She smiles. "Uh, there's some guy here to see you- not Nate." She quickly assures her and Grace furrows her brows, thinking on it for a second. 

"Ben?"

"He didn't tell me his name." She shrugs. "Should I tell them you're busy?'

"No, no. It's fine. Lord knows I need to socialize a little bit. It's just my brother, anyway." Grace chuckles, putting her slippers on to walk out to their shared living room as her friend leaves, laughing with her.

"She's coming." She hears her roommate say before returning to her own room.

Grace takes a deep breath before leaving her room, closing the door, and walking out towards their entryway. She freezes when she sees it's not her brother, but Rafe standing there instead. He looks at her and smiles a little awkwardly. "Hey. Just thought I'd come check on you, it's been a while." 

"Oh, hi." Grace says, returning the smile, her whole body flooding with the rush of embarrassment as she gets flashbacks to what happened weeks before. "Thank you, I'm doing alright." She says, resisting the urge to look down and face the state of her pyjamas that she's been wearing for at least a week consecutively. 

"Want to go for a walk, or something? Get some fresh air?" Rafe asks after a moment. It surprises him how good she looks, not physically, but despite the bags around her eyes, she looks polished. Her hair is brushed, and her skin is still as clear as ever. If he didn't know what had been going on, he wouldn't have guessed.

Grace looks out the window behind her, seeing that it does look like a nice day, and the sun is about to set. With some warm clothes, a walk might be really nice. "Yeah, actually. That sounds nice. I'll just get dressed." She agrees, quickly turning and retreating back to her room. She dug through her closet to find something warm (and clean) to wear, throwing it on with a beanie before rushing back out. "So sorry to keep you waiting, I think I'm good."

"All good." Rafe smiles at her, opening the door for her as they walk out. "So, have you left your dorm at all the last couple weeks?" He asks, raising an eyebrow at her.

"Uh, not really, no." Grace admits, cheeks turning red as she looks down. 

"I don't blame you. Breakups are shit." Rafe says, trying to make her feel comfortable. "Once, after my ex left me, I locked myself in my room for a week. I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep, couldn't do anything but smoke the pain away. Ask Kelce, it was hard to watch."

"Oh, I'm sorry you went through that..." Grace replies honestly. It makes Rafe nauseous, almost, how she's so instantly empathizing with him when she is actively going through the same thing. And having been a first-hand witness to her breakup, he is comfortable in the assumption that she is much worse off than he was. He just wanted her to see she wasn't truly alone.

"It's fine, I'm better for it." Rafe shrugs as they walk out of the building. "That was a couple years ago, so being sixteen, I was probably overreacting anyways, even if that was my first relationship."

"I don't think so." Grace shakes her head as she speaks quietly, Rafe having to lower his head to hear her properly. "It's scary, and sad... and lonely, a little bit."

"I agree, and I'm glad you mention that," Rafe nods, poking her arm gently with a smile. "Because I actually lied to you."

Grace looks up at him, confused now as they walk down the sidewalk. "I have a surprise for you, and we're not actually going on a walk." Rafe admits, smiling smugly at her as they continue walking.

"What is it?" Grace asks.

"You'll see." He smirks, and they continue down towards student parking.

When they get there, Rafe stops her by standing in front of her. "Stay here, I'll be right back." He grins and she nods still thoroughly confused as she watches him run into the bushes behind a few cars, coming back with a couple of plastic grocery bags.

"Now, which car is Nate's?" Rafe grins, holding the bags at his side and looking around the parking lot as he stands directly next to her.

"Uh, why?" Grace asks, leaning over to peek in the bags.

"We're gonna wreck it." Rafe answers proudly, smiling down at her now. "So which car is his?"

Grace thinks on it for a second, unsure if that's a good idea. She's never been one for revenge, but she would be lying to herself if she didn't admit she'd love to know Nate is facing some kind of karma. "Nothing like.. permanent, right?" She asks, just to clarify they can't get in any real trouble.

"No, 'course not." Rafe shakes his head, knowing full well he's got a bag of sugar with its final destination being Nate's gas tank, but he'll wait until Grace goes back inside for that. "Just thought we could vent our frustrations a little, it'll be totally harmless."

"Okay..." Grace agrees hesitantly, looking over to Nate's parking spot. "It's that one. The Jetta."

"Jeez," Rafe laughs, shaking his head. "Driving that ugly thing around is a crime in itself. He deserves this, honestly, he can’t get away with treating you like that. He’s a jerk, and you deserve better." He says, starting to make his way over to it and Grace is following close behind.

They approach the car and Rafe places the bags down, crouching down to dig out all the supplies he bought. Eggs, honey, peanut butter, grease paint, molasses, paint stripper, if Target had it, he bought it. "Pick your poison, Gracie. All you." He smiles, standing up and placing his hands on his hips, looking over at her. 

"Uh..." She looks back at the building they came from, silently assessing the odds that they'll be seen as she blushes from the nickname.

"You want me to go first? I don't mind." Rafe offers and she nods.

"Yeah, yeah sounds good." She whispers, watching him as he grabs the bottle of honey and opens it, squeezing its contents all over the windshield, a smile falling over his lips. She gasps and covers her mouth with her hands, but his smile is contagious, and she ends up giggling as she watches.

"C'mon." Rafe encourages her, nodding his head towards the bags. "It'll feel good."

Grace smiles and grabs a bag of flour, ripping it open and hesitating a bit before throwing a handful overtop of the honey coating the windshield.

"Grace, c'mon. You can do better than that." He insists, chuckling a little at her hesitation. "That asshole deserves worse than that."

Grace nods a little, more determined this time as she grabs more, throwing it all over the honey that Rafe coated the glass with. "He fucking loves this car, it's so ugly. I hate it. I've always hated it!" She's laughing as she continues.

"Yeah! Atta girl, fuck this shitty old car." Rafe laughs, smiling as he watches her loosen up. When he notices she's almost out of flour, he quickly returns to where everything was piled up on the ground, grabbing her the box of eggs. He doesn't want her to lose this momentum she's just picking up. He joins her side, holding the box open for her.

Grace breathes heavily, smiling and looking over her handiwork. "Here, don't stop now." Rafe smiles, and she takes one out of the box, taking a couple of steps back before throwing it at the front of the car. The egg's fragile shell breaks open and sprays its contents over the red paint of the vehicle, making Grace jump up and down a little bit with excitement. She's quick to grab another, and another, and another, effectively coating all sides of the car in raw egg.

By the time they think they're done, both of them are covered in the evidence of their crimes. They stand side by side in front of the mess-covered car, chests heaving with the energy they spent on the task as well as the adrenaline rushing through their veins. Particularly Grace. She's never done anything like this before, something bad. It felt so good. "I think it's missing something, hey?" Rafe asks, tilting his head as he examines the vehicle, now covered mostly in darkness after the sunset.

"What?" Grace asks, turning her head to look up at him. He's got flour and molasses stuck to his face, and she smiles a little to herself. He looks so much more relaxed than the Rafe she's used to, but she first saw this side of him at that party. Suddenly it's not such an embarrassing memory anymore.

"Write something on it." He suggests, his eyes returning to hers as he looks at her expectantly. 

"What do I write?" She giggles, looking between him and the car. Rafe just shrugs, gesturing for her to do it. 

Grace walks up to the car, leaning over to write across the windshield with her finger. When she's done, she steps back and looks up at Rafe for his approval.

"Oh, that'll piss him off. I like it." He laughs, giving her a high five.

'Worlds Dumbest Engineering Student'

this part was SO cute and so fun to write omg

taglist: @newbooksmell777, @tahliac11, @slut4drudy, @madelynie, @angelw33dz, @mutual-mendes, @winterrrnight, @sadfury, @totalswag, @peachprairie (as always reply or message me to be added or removed!)

#rafe cameron #obx fanfic #rafe obx #outer banks #rafe fic #rafe cameron x oc #rafe fanfiction #rafe imagine #rafe cameron fluff #rafe angst #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron imagine #rafe outer banks

[japhan2024]

💛Smoshblr December Asks Final Day💙

We‘ve done it! We’ve finally reached the end of this lil ask game and also the end of 2023! 🥳 Thank you so much for joining in on this, I truly appreciate it so much 🫶! I wish you a wonderful start into the new year and that all your hopes and dreams for 2024 will come true! ✨💞

But, since the year isn’t quite over yet, I thought this might be a nice time to reminisce a little bit. Therefore, the final question of the Smoshblr December Asks Game:

What are your favourite smosh-related memories of 2023? 💖

(no specific amount required for this one; and you can ofc also include older smosh memories, if you want to 🤗)

Stella!! I'm so gonna miss getting your asks every day in my inbox T_T thank you so much for making this month extra special and festive, it was absolutely wonderful waking up knowing there would be a new one waiting!!! <3

My favorite Smosh-related memory? Well, idk, I read a really great fanfic, but it was a bit out there, a bit too sentimental and unrealistic... it goes like this:

Friendship always wins

The sun scorched the suburbs of Sacramento. The neighborhood looked like if a stock photo had a heroine problem. Bored out of their minds, two sixth graders got grouped together for a school project.

"Here, let me draw some turds on the trash pile."

"I'll add flies."

"Hehehe, yeah that looks better."

The two kids, Ian and Anthony, connected through their shared humor, which ranged from Beavis and Butthead to Home Alone to Southpark, and to whatever was on the internet in that godforsaken time pre-2005.

The oldest one, Anthony, came from a broken home. He had to grow up fast and take care of his siblings and mom. The only times he could really be a kid and fuck around, was with his best friend Ian. Feeling nurtured by Ian's mom and dad, and constantly laughing at Ian's jokes, his happiness was there, with Ian. He could get through working hard, as long as he had Ian to go back to and have fun.

Their nerdy friend group were all into internet humor and Anthony came up with the idea of having a forum for them all to shitpost on and share their creations and collaborate.

But then he got sick. Really sick. He couldn't go to school, had to stay home for six months. He felt so isolated, not seeing his friends, most of all Ian. But Ian showed up at his house with a get well soon card. It was signed by everyone from his class. He could cry, he was so happy with this symbol of friendship. It kept him going the rest of the months. He put his time and energy into coding and learning how to do graphic design.

Smosh was born and it took off. First the website was just for them; Ian, Anthony, and their friends. It had stuff like articles, memes and videos. But soon the whole school was frequenting the site. News traveled outside the school even, and before they knew it, Smosh was an internet phenomenon. After they graduated, Ian and Anthony chose to keep the website going. Just for fun. And they got some money from merch they would distribute themselves.

One day, they saw that one of their videos was pirated and hosted on some new platform: YouTube. That gave them an idea: why not host all their videos there? It was free after all. Being at the right place at the right time, with the right kind of humor and the right kind of raw talent, Smosh was propelled to be one of the biggest YouTube channels there were. They even became the biggest one. However, with success also comes vultures, ready to take everything from you...

A company introduced themselves to Ian and Anthony and promised them the world: give Smosh to us, and you will only have to worry about making videos. We will take care of everything else. It sounded too good to be true. And sadly, it was. For even though at first, Ian and Anthony had more fun than ever, coming up with bigger and funnier videos than ever, they soon found out they were not in control anymore.

Anthony, who had always fought to stay in control of things; his family, his health, his whole life... it was very hard to see his creation being contorted and mutilated into something he didn't want it to be. And he grew to hate it. That hate spread everywhere, even towards his best friend, who kept trying to tell him "man, let's take the losses and be happy we have this job, we could have still been in Sacramento with nowhere to go."

But Anthony had had it.

"Ian, come with me, let's start a new channel, just the two of us."

"Anthony... I can't. It doesn't make any sense business wise. I know it's not ideal, but please, Anthony, stay?"

After years and years of putting his all into the company, Anthony couldn't do it anymore. He quit Smosh, and a shockwave went through the entire fandom that had built around it.

Smosh was still going. But you see, money and power got involved, and Ian and Anthony had lost sight of each other... they tried to hold on, you could see it clear as day, but they were ripped apart by the greed of the soulless company, which is a tautology, if you think about it.

Both guys were heartbroken. Still sneaking glances at each other, but not able to speak. Too much had happened between them.

And then the company went bankrupt and Smosh was in mortal danger. Ian, who had fought to keep the brand alive ever since Anthony left, fought as hard as he could to find someone to buy it, who wouldn't just sell it off for parts like an old car. Luckily, a YouTuber duo who knew Smosh from afar, stepped in and saved the day. Thanks to them and to Ian, Smosh survived. But was it really still Smosh? What was Smosh if it wasn't Ian and Anthony?

In the meantime, Anthony had rebooted his personal YouTube channel and through trial and error found success. Nothing like Smosh, of course, but impressive nonetheless.

Apart from each other, Ian and Anthony persevered. But they were still heartbroken and in need of something. That something was each other of course. And finally, years later, they met again. And they were both surprised. They had both healed and grown enough to see each other and talk freely, like adults. And they were surprised to see how well they still clicked.

It was like they were the same friends they had been all those years ago, but eve better. The slogan they had come up with all those years, finally rang true again, more than it had ever done. Friendship always wins.

And as they reconnected more and more, one faithful day, one of them said..

"what if we bought Smosh?"

And at that moment, their family was no longer broken, they were reunited and Anthony suddenly had a lot more 'kids' to take care of. But he was so happy, so happy to be with Ian again. He was finally fulfilled.

#smoshblr december asks #smosh #fanfic #ianthony

[justasparkwritings]

GUTS: Bad Idea, Right?

Pairing: MxM; Min Yoongi x Park Jimin

Genre: Smut – Lovers to Exes

Rating: NC17

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Oral sex, swearing, legal alcohol consumption, safe sex

Song: Bad Idea, Right? 

            “It’s not like you tripped and fell into his bed, again,” Taehyung laughed, lips coolly sipping on his Americano. His eyes were alight with curiosity and humor, brows raised in a jovial expression. He couldn’t help himself, laughing at me for what amounted to yet another “one night stand” with my ex, Yoongi.

            “I did too!” I argued.

            “How?” Jungkook asked, tilting his head in curiosity. “I’m trying to imagine how you tripped into his bed. How did you even get there? Didn’t he move?”

            “I – he kept blowing up my phone.” I shrugged, as if my explanation was believable.  

            “You were with us, and Hoseok, how the hell did we not notice?” Jungkook gaped.

            “It’s because he’s a liar,” Hoseok said as he joined our group, coffee in hand. “He said he was going home to sleep.”

            “But he never said where!” Taehyung laughed.

            I could feel my cheeks flushing, making it blatantly obvious that I’m both embarrassed and dying to tell the details of my evening. I can’t ignore how deeply problematic it all was, sleeping with Yoongi once more. It was always a bad idea, and I know I should’ve probably not, but I couldn’t abstain, not four months ago, or two months ago, or even last night.

            It had all played out like some 90s pop-punk music video: purple and blue lights strewn across the wall and dancing faces, the music a little too loud and the crowd was an over zealous group of people ecstatic Seokjin had returned from his military service. Red solo cups were everywhere, remnants of jello-shots accompanying them in the piles of trash that would inevitably have to be taken out. The host – a friend of Hoseok’s – was nowhere to be found, most likely in the bathroom taking a hit or making out with one of their partners. In the middle of it all, Jungkook was grinding against some curvaceous brunette with a wide grin and bright eyes. Taehyung was trying his hand at pool, and I was in the corner, nursing my vodka soda and staring at the night as it unfolded.

            That was until my phone started to buzz, and I begrudgingly pulled it out of my pocket.

Yoongi: What are you doing?

Jimin: At a party

Yoongi: Whose?

Jimin: Seokjin’s post - military welcome back party

Yoongi: Oh – is it fun?

Jimin: It’s fine – why?

Yoongi: Just wondering what you’re up to

Jimin: Am I sensing some undertone?

Yoongi: That seems like a big word for a drunk you

Jimin: I’m not drunk

Yoongi: Then come over

Jimin: Why do you want me tonight?

Yoongi: I always want you

            I stared at the conversation, knowing full I was going to wreck my plans for him. How could I not? It’s not like I was thrilled with our break up, or like I was patiently waiting for a time to bring up getting back together. We broke up because we were both treading water, drowning in our jobs and not having any time for our relationship. At least, that’s how I felt… Yoongi seems to have different feelings but it’s not like he’s ever going to share them with me. I should add that as a reason we broke up: deeply withholding. But alas, I will not.

And if I’m honest, Yoongi’s gorgeous, a sexy mysterious man with the most luxurious long black hair. And while there are other qualities I loved about Yoongi, like his sensitive stare and how gentle he was with my heart most of the time, I couldn’t help but admit in that moment, with a reckless abandon in my gaze, and Yoongi asking me to come over, that all I wanted was to lay on my back and let Yoongi fuck me. Which would inevitably lead to Yoongi ghosting me for another two months, until he knew I was out with my friends and that I would, without hesitating, blow it all for one more night with him.

            So last night, I found my friends and told them I wasn’t feeling well and was going to head out. The biggest lie I’ve ever told, because I was feeling fine and had been looking forward to this party all week. Hoseok stared at me, concerned, his brows speaking volumes to his displeasure and disbelief that I was in fact going home. Jungkook and Taehyung were too busy and too drunk to think twice about it.

            I hopped in my car, and despite knowing that I was abandoning my plans (drinking, dancing, possibly hooking up, and passing out somewhere in the house only to be woken up at 6AM by birds chirping and no memory of the night before or how he got there), I couldn’t stop. I drove cautiously to Yoongi’s new address, an apartment complex with an inner courtyard. Staring up at the floors, I scanned the second for him. Yoongi stood, sweats and baggie t-shirt on, gaze locking me in.

            “Hey,” he said from the balcony, and that was all it took for me to take off at a brisk pace up the stairs. Whenever I saw Yoongi, my brain went fuzzy. No thoughts could penetrate the deep attraction I felt for him, the hazy blah blah blah of whatever lust-fog overcame me time and time again.

            I hastily closed the gap between us, lips meeting Yoongi’s as I hungrily kissed him. My teeth pulled Yoongi’s bottom lip, hips rocking into his, hands tugging that luxurious mop of black hair.

            “You can’t fuck me on the balcony,” Yoongi growled, a hint of red on his cheeks, a little embarrassed by this depravity.

            “Fine, then show me inside.”

            Yoongi’s last apartment, which he’d lived in for 7 years, was much smaller, a two-bedroom, windowless box he shared with Namjoon. He hadn’t minded the lack of natural light because he was always in the office, working long hours and keeping his nose to the grindstone. But when he’d been promoted, and transitioned to remote work in the pandemic, he needed more light and more space. Namjoon in turn was ready to move in with his lover, and thus Yoongi searched for the perfect place to call home. No apartment had met his needs until a few months ago when he saw this one. With two bedrooms, a view of the courtyard on one side and a view of the creek on the opposite, it was brimming with everything he wanted. As we stepped inside, and Yoongi locked the door, I took in the spacious living room and modern kitchen, still finding remnants of his last home here.

            “Well, this is an upgrade.” I said.

            “Thanks.”

            “Still two bedrooms?”

            “Yeah, bedroom and an office.”

            “Look at you, leveling up,” I teased. I watched Yoongi draw the shades and caught sight of his gentle biceps and the quiet expanse of his back. As the room grew darker, I grew hungrier.

Knowing Yoongi would never give me a grand tour, I took it upon myself to wander the apartment, first checking out the office, before casually meandering to the bedroom.

            “That took less time than I thought,” Yoongi said, leaning against the door frame. He pushed his hair out of his face and licked his lips, eyes raking over me.

            “What?”

            “I didn’t expect you to come here in jeans tighter than sin and a t-shirt that I promise you I can and will tear from your body,” Yoongi smirked. “You also made your way to the bedroom in record time.”

            “Oh, should I go change? Slip into some sweatpants I guarantee I left here? Oh wait,” I dropped my gaze to Yoongi’s lower half, where the navy sweats were cinched and hanging from his hips.

            Yoongi flushed. “I was going to mail these back.”

            I laughed. “Don’t lie to me.”

            “Fine. I was never going to give them back; I was going to keep them.”

            “They were a birthday gift,” I lied.

            “Don’t lie to me.” Yoongi replied.

            “You kept them.”

            “Yeah, and?”

            I wanted to fight him, to get some sort of answer from him on what we were doing. Does he want me the same ways I want him? Does he cancel his plans in case I come through? Last night wasn’t our first song and dance, but I couldn’t bring myself to ask.

            “Are you going to kiss me, or are we going to keep up this repartee until we exhaust the conversation and have to discuss our breakup and subsequent hook ups?” I said instead.

            Yoongi licked his lips, eyes becoming hungry. “I’m going to kiss you, and then I’m going to strip you bare and have my way with you.”

            “Then stop talking and do it already.”

~~~~~

            Yoongi made slow work of stripping me. And why shouldn’t he? He needed to lock this memory in, because how much longer would I engage in this with him? Based on our tristes, and the pure fact that we have slept together at least 3 times in the 6 months since we’ve been broken up, I was beginning to feel like this was unsustainable. If we’re not a couple, is he just leading me on? He knows how deeply I loved him, but had anything in our situations changed enough to get us to where we needed to go? Or was I always going to fall prey to this bad idea, seeing him in the cover of night, sleeping in his sheets without regard to how shitty it made me feel? Or could I treat him as casually as he treated me? The depths of Yoongi’s feelings for me remained unknown, and I had to let them go if this night was going to continue.  

            It was easy to do, when Yoongi’s lips were suckling and kissing every inch of my bare skin. Or as Yoongi trailed his tongue along the lines of my tattoos, fingers gracing the taut skin of my abdomen. He teased me for as long as he could stand it, his cock hardening while he performed his ministrations across my nipples and down the light happy trail leading to my fully hard member. My hands were tangled in his lush hair, pulling and tugging as my want began to take over.

            I always wanted Yoongi, wanted another night with him, wanted the feeling of his embrace and his member and his lips all over me. I craved it regularly, and nearly texted and asked for just this a few weeks ago, but refrained. Before Yoongi, a backslide was not something I did. Once I was done in a relationship, I was done and over it. But how could I ever be done with Yoongi?

            “Yoongi,” I moaned, hips rising to press into Yoongi. “You’re being an asshole on purpose.”      

            “Yes,” Yoongi hummed. “Tell me what you want, baby.”

            I groaned at the endearment, missing how it sounded coming from Yoongi’s baritone voice.

            “I want all of you.”

            The double meaning sat uncomfortably in the air. I hadn’t meant it to be so…. Romantic? So laced with passion and heat in a way that was not appropriate for this evening. I just meant it as…. Fuck it I don’t know what I meant. Not wanting to let the pall of my confession ruin the evening, Yoongi slipped his hands down my sides and gripped the front of my jeans. His lips lowered against the hollow of my ear as he whispered, “Then have me.”

            Feeling emboldened by the directive, I eagerly flipped Yoongi over and slid the sweatpants from his hips. I bit his lips as Yoongi’s member sprung free, hard and thick and dripping. I laid on the bed, head between Yoongi’s thighs and kissed up them, teeth pulling the pale skin and reddening it.

            As I teetered on the brink of taking Yoongi fully between his lips, I had a brief flash of clarity, knowing I either needed to dive right in, or stop completely. There was no going back from this, from my confession or sex with him, no acting like my feelings for him were not real. As I stared up at the glorious man in front of him, who was easily the hottest man I’ve ever had the pleasure of gazing up, I told himself the only thing that would lessen the potential backlash to this night: fuck it, it’s fine. Which I think should be deemed as the new YOLO. But more on that never.

            I lightly traced the vein up Yoongi’s shaft, swirling my tongue over the tip and delighting in the precum that had beaded at the tip. While I’m not a cum-girlie, I have missed how Yoongi tasted, and it caused me to dip low, taking all of him at once. I began to pleasure Yoongi, unaware of my own hips rutting against the mattress, too lost in the dulcet tones of Yoongi’s arousal. He moaned and groaned, hands pulling at the sheets while I swirled my tongue, sucking him down. I could feel the strain of Yoongi wanting to come, to unleash himself into the depths of my throat, but was equally met with a firm restraint, holding him back from release.

            “Stop,” Yoongi growled, the pain of ending this moment written across his brow.

            “Why?” I asked, Cheshire smile on my lips.

            “I need to fuck you.”

            “Fuck my throat,” I offered.

            “No,” Yoongi said.

            “What if I want to fuck you?” I asked.

            “Do you?”

            “No,” I shrugged.

            Yoongi rolled his eyes, the indecision of this libra driving him a little mad, like I always had.

            “Great, doggy or missionary?”

            “I want to look at you,” I answered. Yet another confession I hadn’t meant to share tonight.

            “On your back then.”

            I smiled with pure delight, hoping to lighten the mood. Afterall, I was getting almost everything I wanted.

            Yoongi made quick work of sheathing himself with a condom before he parted my legs.

            He hesitated. “Did you-

            “Prepare for this?”

            “Yeah,” Yoongi confirmed.

            I nodded. “Yeah, didn’t know if I’d get strange dick tonight so I prepared.”

            “I hate that,” Yoongi admitted.

            “What?”

            “Strange dick.”

            I stared at him, the sweat already pressing Yoongi’s hair to his forehead. “Me having strange dick or the concept in general?”

            “You.”

Yoongi realized the corner he’d backed himself into and stared at me pleadingly. Unlike my confessions, which were honest and true and slightly painful, it was clear in his discomfort that he had said it before he realized what the implications would be.

            “Yoongi,” I said softly, my eyes widening with barefaced hope. We should’ve probably stopped, had a conversation, and returned to sex if we were truly emotionally ready for it. But Yoongi wiped his face of anything remotely confessional before I could say anything else.

            “Fuck it, it’s fine.” Yoongi said, and he pressed his tip slowly into my entrance.

~~~~~

            “You’re going to do it again, aren’t you?” Hoseok asked, still nursing his rather large mug of espresso.

        ��   “Probably,” Taehyung said, the jovial light in his eyes replaced with concern.

            “I am not.” I said.

            “You are too,” Jungkook said.

            “Can’t I evolve and change?” I asked them.

            Hoseok stared at me, full judgement in his eyes. “You can, but you won’t.”

            “What makes you so sure?”

            “Oh my god,” Taehyung said beside us, staring at his phone.

            “What?” We all asked, turning to stare at him.

            “Holy shit,” he said, eyes widening further.

            “What?” Jungkook demanded.

            “Did you know about what happened to Seokjin?”

            “What do you mean what happened to Seokjin?” Hoseok asked.

            “What the fuck is going on?” Jungkook demanded, his whine more endearing than alarming.

            “Read this,” Taehyung put his phone between us, and as we collectively sucked in our breath, I read the headline:

            Famed Actor Kim Seokjin Returns from Service to Tell-All from Former Bunk Mate: The Partying, Drugs and Men Revealed Below

#BTS fanfic #min yoongi x park jimin #justasparkwritings #mxm #jiminxyoongi #jimin fanfic #yoongi fanfic #bad idea #right #guts

[fandomn00blr]

Happy Birthentines!! How about a big dumb sweater for either Fenders or I could see Loghain/Stroud being fun for that one? Whichever you prefer! 💖

Oh goodness...why not both?!

(Fenders is in the Dark Sprawl AU...this might actually make it into Linked somehow/someday, so spoilers, I guess?)

The Link’s clothes never seem to fit particularly well, but the sweater he’s taken to wearing under his threadbare parka since it got colder is especially offensive in its ill-fittedness.

“Where did you get that sweater?” Fenris asks him.

“Found it in the trash pile at Lirene’s!” he grins triumphantly. “Isn’t it great? Can’t believe she was gonna toss it!”

“It’s…actually terrible,” Fenris says. But the dejected look on Anders’ face makes him feel bad enough to say, “I’m sorry…?” at least.

“Well, that’s just your opinion,” Anders huffs. “We can’t all pull off head-to-toe black spandex!”

“Oh, well there goes my suggestion for a new team uniform…” Hawke snorts. “I think the sweater looks nice on you, Anders. Really adds another layer to your whole…look.”

Fenris rolls his eyes as Anders beams at her. Her backhanded flattery always seems to work on him.

…

Fenris finds himself in Anders’ apartment. Alone. The Link is still in quarantine at the hospital, and he’s forbidden Fenris from even trying to sneak in and visit him out of ‘concern for his safety’ until Justice can be rebooted somehow. It’s all bullshit. Fenris has fought Sprawlers and signal poachers all by himself, broken through Danarius’ encryptions, and he would much rather take his chances staying at the Link’s side, protecting him from whatever Meredith’s Counselors intend to do to him now that he seems to have lost the protection Justice provided.

But he’s here instead. The closest he can be to Anders because the idiot refuses to let him anywhere near him. The mansion is too empty. Too haunted. Too far away from everyone and everything Fenris has come to care about. Plus, he can still feel the remnants of Danarius’ broken code coursing through him, and the house, with all of its various security protocols, only seems to remind him of the fact that he will never be completely rid of his technology. But here…even without Anders or Justice…he has always felt…free.

He goes to Anders’ bedroom, searching for more of him to hold onto. In a rumpled pile of laundry next to his mattress, he sees that horrible sweater he had insisted on wearing all winter, initially, Fenris suspects, just to spite him. How many nights had he impatiently yanked it off of him or begrudgingly tossed it to him in the morning instead of hiding it or secretly burning it, which is what he would have liked to have done back then?

He’s so glad he didn’t now. He gathers it up and holds it to his face, breathing in whatever trace of Anders he can find here. Thankfully, he hasn’t washed it since the last time he wore it, and it still smells just like him. Like the generic shampoo he uses and soap from the clinic…like his connection…and Justice…and imitation maple syrup and…fuck. He misses him. Misses them both. And he’s scared. What if they transfer him to the Facility ‘for his protection’? What if he ends up like Karl? What if Justice is really gone forever?

Fenris pulls the big dumb itchy sweater on over his head and curls up on Anders’ bed for the night, hoping that in the morning, Merrill will come find him and tell him how they’re going to fix this.

(Spoiler: she will!)

And here's some straight-up Stroghainoff fluff <3

“It gets colder here than in the West,” Stroud says one night, draping an arm over him and snuggling in close behind him as he gently presses his lips to the back of his shoulder.

“I’ve spent the majority of my life in Ferelden,” Loghain grumbles.

“Well, I haven’t.”

Loghain rolls over to face him. “So what? You want me to knit you a sweater or something?”

“No…” Stroud laughs. “Though now that you mention it…”

“I haven’t tried to knit anything since I was a boy.”

“I’d settle for a scarf.” He grins. “Or how about just a cuddle?”

“You’d look absurd in a scarf…”

Stroud shrugs. “So a cuddle, then?”

“Guess so…” Loghain pulls him in against his chest and wraps his arms around him. How Stroud could ever claim to be cold is beyond him. The man is an absolute furnace.

…

Stroud doesn’t say anything when he’s asked to sign the requisition forms the next day and notices a few skeins of yarn have been added in Loghain’s hand at the bottom of the supply list. He resists the urge to follow him when the old man begins to excuse himself early each night from the dining hall. And he tries to announce his arrival through exaggerated grunts and heavy footsteps and give him enough time to scramble and put away whatever he’s been working on before entering their room.

But after a week of this, he finds it difficult not to pry.

“Mac Tir…” he says, setting aside the stack of reports he’s meant to be reading and responding to before bed.

“Hrm?” Loghain looks up from the book he’s been reading.

“I can’t help but notice you’ve been up to something…”

“Up to something?” Loghain looks decidedly guilty, but at least he’s smiling. “You think I’m planning another coup? Or fooling around with your Mistress Woolsey when she’s not in your office barking orders at you from Weisshaupt?”

“No.” Stroud chuckles. “I think you’re up to something far more devious…”

“Yes. Yes…that is me. The Traitor, as they say.”

“I think you’ve been trying to teach yourself to knit.”

“Trying?” Well, now he looks offended. “I told you I already know how to knit. Sister Ailis saw to it that we could knit and mend our own clothes just as well as we could fight.”

“Why are you being so secretive about it, then?”

“Because, you idiot, I’ve been trying to knit something for you…”

“Can I…see it?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because…it’s all wrong.” Loghain sighs. “I’ve had to start over twice already. And will probably have to scrap this one, too!”

“What’s the problem? Maybe I could take a look…”

“The problem is you…you’re all…” He waves his hand up and down and across, motioning toward Stroud’s torso. “I think I have the measurements right, but then it just ends up looking like a big dumb sweater.”

“I wouldn’t mind a big dumb sweater.”

“Well, then…” Loghain huffs. He walks over to his chest of belongings and flings it open, then produces a wonderfully fuzzy-looking sweater in Warden blue, which he tosses across the room to Stroud. “Here.”

Stroud immediately pulls it on over his tunic, beaming at him. “It’s actually perfect.”

“It’s lop-sided…”

“Is not…”

“Yes it is. Right…” Loghain crosses the room and tugs on the right arm of the sweater. “...here. This arm looks longer. But I counted the rows. It shouldn’t be.”

“Well, I think it’s lovely. And I’m going to wear it everyday now that Fereldan winter has arrived.”

“Maker spare me…” Loghain groans. “Just don’t…tell anyone I made it.”

“They all know that we’re together, Mac Tir.”

“I know that! But they don’t know that I’m a terrible knitter. It’s embarrassing!”

Thank you thank you thank you for these prompts! Can't think of a better way to spend my birthday morning than frantically writing angst and fluff and angsty fluff for some of my favorites.

#birthentine's prompts #dragon age #fenris #anders #fenders #stroud #loghain #stroghainoff #big dumb sweaters for everyone!

[munkustance]

"I don´t share."

"They all stood there. Dead silent. Nobody was moving a muscle. Only thing heard was a faint growl. The unconscious body of Mister Mistoffelees was hovering just above the ground right next to The Hidden Paw himself."

Characters: Rum Tum Tugger, Macavity, Munkustrap, Mistoffelees, Alonzo, Cassandra, Victoria, Pouncival, Skimbleshanks, Jennyanydots, Plato, Jellylorum, Tumblebrutus, Asparagus Jr, Mungojerrie & Rumpleteazer.

Warnings: Angst, Violence (like extreme violence, it´s Macavity we´re talking about), Kidnapping. If I missed any please tell me in the tags and I´ll add it!

Summary: Macavity desides to torment the Jellicle Tribe (and his brothers) as revenge for the Jellicle Ball.

(There might be spelling and grammar errors as english is not my first language. But I tried my best to make sure there won´t be any. Reblogs and such are very much welcome)

They all stood there. Dead silent. Nobody was moving a muscle. Only thing heard was a faint growl. The unconscious body of Mister Mistoffelees was hovering just above the ground right next to The Hidden Paw himself.  

In the corner of Tuggers eyes he saw as the other black and white tom sneaked through piles of trash, not making any sounds and in his other corner Tugger saw the same thing again, only it was the sleek queen Cassandra. They were going to attack from behind and they needed a distraction. 

"Let go of him." Macavity’s eyes turned to him. 

 He stifled a laugh. "Watch out little brother, you're going to make me laugh." He grinned wide, showing his sharp teeth. "Though I am proud of you, the last time I was here you were too scared to even show up. Now you're brave enough to speak." 

"I wasn't scared-" 

"No of course not, you were just busy with your little magician." He lifted his hand towards Mistoffelees face. 

"Don't you dare touch him!" It was Victoria who had spoken. But Macavity just grinned wider, he grabbed Mistoffelees chin and scratched his cheek with a singular claw, drawing blood. Tears started flowing down Victoria’s face as Skimbleshanks held her back from launching at the ginger cat. 

"Though I am curious," Ignoring Victoria´s cries he turned his attention back to Tugger. "How you managed to keep this hidden gem from me." He raised one of his eyebrows. The only answer Tugger could give was a growl, he was scared and he knew Macavity could sense it. 

Macavity scoffed. "No response? Honestly brother, you're starting to bore me." 

"Leave him alone Mac." Munkustrap made his way to Tugger, putting a protective arm in front of his brother’s chest. "Leave all of us alone" 

His grin dropped, as did his hand from Mistoffelees face, leaving one claw coloured red with blood. "No." 

That was when Alonzo attacked from behind. Claws out and reaching for his head, fast as lightning but somehow not fast enough. With one single motion Macavity turned and scratched deep into Alonzo’s stomach, making him immediately drop to the ground. Cassandra almost got a hold of Mistoffelees when she suddenly fell unconscious. "NO!" Jennyanydots tried to make her way to them but was stopped by Plato just out of pure reflex. 

"Nice try," Macavity laughed insincerely as he kicked Alonzo in his bleeding wound. "But simply sneaking up on me won't work." Alonzo groaned loudly as another kick opened the wound even more. "Besides," Macavity crouched down to his level. "I don't like to share my new toys."  

"Mistoffelees is not a toy!" Pouncival stood up and glared at Macavity as he slowly turned his head towards the kitten. When their eyes met Pouncival screamed out in pain. 

"Stop it!" Jellylorum clung to her kitten as he fell to his knees, Tumblebrutus took a hold of his cousins’ paws as the screaming stopped. A dark laugh echoed through the quiet Junkyard.  

Macavity lowered his head, his laugh stopping as he stood up and once again looked towards his brothers. Munkustraps usual firm stance was failing as his legs shook slightly, nerves taking the best of him. His eyes starring right back at Macavity despite himself. Tugger couldn't bring himself to look anywhere else other than Mistoffelees. The tom’s face was full of anguish, and although unconscious, it was clear that he was fighting against Macavity’s magic, desperately trying but failing to wake up. 

"As fun as this was, I think I'll take my leave now." Tuggers eyes widened, fear against Macavity leaving his body as he started to launch himself towards his oldest brother. But it was fruitless, he was stopped mid-air, it was now his turn to scream in pain as Macavity twisted his limbs with his magic. 

"Sorry little brother, but I can't let you do that. As I said: I don't share" With one final scream Tugger was sent flying straight backwards, tumbling into the two calico twins. 

"Tugger!" Munkustraps head snapped towards him. Quickly turning back he saw as orange mist slowly started to settle onto the ground, the two magical cats were gone. 

"Out of my way!" Jennyanydots ran towards Alonzo, desperate panic clear in her voice. Cassandra was awake again, understanding the situation she immediately joined Jenny by Alonzo’s side. Tumblebrutus hugged Pouncival hard, refusing to let go even when Asparagus told him that they needed to check for wounds. The calicos were scared to move, scared that if they did Tugger would be even more hurt as he laid still on top of them both. Victoria had already reached the place where her brother had been just seconds ago. Her cries were filling the Junkyard. 

Munkustrap stayed frozen in place. Mind going everywhere and nowhere all at once. The only thing consistent was the question, "How could I've let this happen?" 

#cats the musical #cats musical #cats 1998 #rum tum tugger #macavity #munkustrap #mr mistoffelees #alonzo cats #alonzo #cassandra cats #cats cassandra #victoria cats #victoria the white cat #pouncival #skimbleshanks #jennyanydots #plato cats #jellylorum #tumblebrutus #asparagus jr #mungojerrie #rumpleteazer #fanfiction #fanfiction on tumblr #my post #tuggoffelees #doesnt have to be tuggoffelees #but thats how i wrote it #because then it hurts more #also Alonzo Victoria and Misto are siblings in this

[generalkenobi22]

Fic: it's weird, but it's ours (Being Human US) - Chapter 1

SUMMARY: A ghost, a werewolf, and a vampire walk into a house, and—have you heard this one before? They walk into a house—well, no, technically, they walk into a very close, very enabling, borderline co-dependent, group dynamic. Otherwise known as a family. But you know what they say about family: can't live with 'em, can't kill 'em because there aren't any readily accessible iron pokers, silver bullets, or wooden stakes on hand. Which is a good thing because the last thing they need on their hands is suspicion of murder when the neighbors already think the werewolf and the vampire are a couple. But the werewolf and the ghost? They're not sure what their dynamic is. They just know that it absolutely, 100% does not involve Feelings of any kind. ... Probably.

In typical fashion, I finally got around to watching Being Human (US) only a decade-ish after it aired and loved it. My toxic trait, though, is that if a dynamic is contentious, with even a hint of perceivable flirt-to-roast ratio, I will ship it. Which is how this Josh/Sally monstrosity came to be. I am nothing if not Fake Dating/Enemies to Lovers/Found Family trope trash.

Can also be found on AO3.

—————

It only takes about a week after they've moved into their house (Sally's house? They really haven't landed on that one yet) before the full neighborhood welcoming committee arrives on their stoop.

Josh isn't actually home to witness this. No, he finds out when he walks in the door after pulling two doubles and sees their living room filled with people. He barely has a moment to stash his backpack, let alone change out of his scrubs, before an older woman with a perm and a bad dye job corners him and starts talking his ear off.

The extra guests come bearing food, which is the only reason Josh doesn't kill (stake?) Aidan for not texting him a heads up. He uses his height to his advantage to scan the room until he finds Aidan... talking with two attractive girls (because of course he is). Josh tries to subtly signal to him, but Aidan either doesn't see him or is straight up ignoring him—honestly, either option seems in character at this point.

"You know," Perm/Bad Dye Job says to him, her voice filled with pride, "my grandson is gay."

"Uh-huh." Josh, admittedly, isn't listening. He's too busy trying to figure out how to get past the throng of people blocking him from where all the food is. Subsisting on NutriGrain bars and Red Bulls for the last few days has him ravenously hungry.

He politely excuses himself and fights his way over to the table. Just as he finishes piling a plate high with buffalo chicken dip and some kind of vegan chocolate chip cookies (among other things), the older woman is back at his side.

"He's Jewish, too," she tells him. Off his confused look, she adds, "My grandson."

"Ah." Josh isn't really sure what to do with this information, so he shovels some food into his mouth.

"He brought home a nice boy for Seder last year," she continues, oblivious. "He's a third-year law student at BU. And so handsome!"

She winks at him after this proclamation, and now Josh really has no clue what to do with this incredibly weird info dump. Like, good for him—Josh is obviously supportive—but he (Josh, not the grandson) doesn't know why he's being looped in on any of it.

He settles for giving Perm/Bad Dye Job what he hopes is a normal smile (but is likely the one Emily has said makes him look completely unhinged) and a nervous laugh.

Thankfully, he's saved from further embarrassment when Aidan (finally) approaches them, a young but otherwise unremarkable man and woman in tow. He glances at Josh briefly before directing his attention (and full charm offensive) to Perm/Bad Dye Job. "Excuse me, Mrs. Rosenberg—"

She tsks at him playfully. "Now, Aidan, what did I tell you?"

Aidan looks at the ground bashfully, then flashes her a bright (not completely unhinged) smile. "Aw, gee. You're right," he says. Like, he actually says 'gee,' as if he's straight out of an episode of Lassie. "Martha. Sorry. I'll get it next time. Promise."

Perm/Bad Dye Job—sorry, Martha—giggles. Giggles. Josh thinks it demonstrates phenomenal self-restraint that he doesn't roll his eyes (so hard they fall out of his head) at both of them.

"Now, if you'll excuse me a moment, Martha—" He makes a point of emphasizing her name, which she predictably eats right up before he turns back to Josh. Aidan slings an arm around his shoulders, which is... well, it's a little out of left field because Aidan's not a super touchy guy to begin with.

Josh idly wonders if he's drunk—he once had a roommate in college who got kind of handsy with everyone when he drank too much—before it occurs to him that he doesn't actually know if Aidan can get drunk. He's seen him drink, but... has he ever been drunk? Can vampires get drunk?

"Josh," Aidan's decidedly not drunk voice pulls him back to the present, "I want you to meet the Hendersons. This is Nate and his wife, Amanda. They're in the brownstone at the end of the block."

They exchange greetings and make small talk. Josh learns that they're both originally from Pennsylvania, but met at BC (her sophomore, his junior year) before moving to Boston permanently just after their wedding.

After some time, Nate shakes Josh's hand. "It's nice meeting you, Josh. And good seeing you, Martha. So sorry to interrupt."

"Oh, you didn't," Josh insists at the same time Martha informs them, "I was just telling him about Elijah."

Elijah? It takes Josh a minute to realize Elijah must be her gay, Jewish grandson.

"Uh, yeah," he stutters, desperate to somehow convey he wants no part in getting roped into talking with her, "but we—"

"Oh, right!" Amanda reaches out and touches his arm in a familiar, almost intimate way. Panicked, Josh eyes Nate, but Nate doesn't seem to think anything is out of line. "I think you both will like it here. The neighborhood is very accepting. Of everyone."

Josh is about to—who knows? Puff his chest out, establish his dominance? Something to prove to Nate that he's definitely—well, n-not an actual, but at least a potential—romantic threat. Except that Aidan pulls him closer to his side and resolutely refuses to meet his gaze.

"Aidan, what—?"

"Plus, it's great having another young couple on the block," Nate adds, to enthusiastic nods from Amanda.

Josh freezes. Suddenly, everything clicks: Martha's grandson info dump, the neighborhood being "accepting," Aidan's arm around his shoulder.

"Will you—will you excuse us?" Josh blurts, contorting out from under Aidan's grasp. "I have to talk to my roo... my, uh—Aidan. I have to talk to Aidan. Alone. In the kitchen."

Aidan's smile falters only slightly. "Greg, Amanda. Martha. Nice talking with y—"

"Aidan."

The moment the three of them disperse to mingle elsewhere, Josh wastes no time making his escape, Aidan close on his (metaphorical) tail.

"Listen, Josh—"

Josh turns on him as soon as they both step into the kitchen. "Why do—" He stops short, aware of a few guests standing too close for comfort. He grabs Aidan's arm and yanks him over to the corner, near the microwave. "Why do they think we're a couple?"

For some reason, Aidan looks visibly relieved by Josh's reaction rather than literally any other emotion that should be there. "I didn't say anything. Everyone just... assumed? Danny must have talked to a few of 'em."

"And you didn't think to correct them?"

"I was going to," Aidan concedes, "but listen—Listen! This could be a good thing."

Josh wants to scream. "Good for who?" He pauses, angrily considering. "Whom—? Never mind, I don't give a shit—good for who exactly, Aidan?"

"Good for us," he insists. Off Josh's incredulous look, he presses, "Think about—Josh, just think about it for a second. Two straight, single guys who live together, spend a lot of time together? That begs a lotta questions. But if we're a couple? No one bats an eye."

Josh opens his mouth to respond, then shuts it. Aidan's... not wrong. God, he hates that Aidan's not wrong. Still— "You... have a point. But why not just tell them we're brothers?"

Sally materializes right next to them, making herself comfortable on what little counter space they have. Josh jumps, still not used to her living (dying-then-residing-in-another-plane-of-existence... ing?) in the house yet.

She snorts. "Please." She gestures at Aidan, Vanna White-ing him. "Look at him! His face is all chiseled, like Mount Rushmore, or... or Handsome Squidward—"

Aidan frowns. "Handsome... what?"

"—No one's gonna believe he's related to you."

You meaning Josh, who apparently is so hideously deformed, he couldn't possibly live up to the god-like, Edward Cullen plane of physical beauty on which Aidan exists. (Though he will—grudgingly— give her points for Handsome Squidward because... now he can't unsee it).

He fixes what he hopes is his most pissed off look at Sally. "Oh, but they'll believe we're dating?"

She shrugs. "Sure. People date down all the time."

Josh can feel his face flush, equal parts humiliated and angry. Aidan cuts him off before he can say anything and comes to stand between both of them. "Hey, c'mon now."

The same two attractive girls from earlier are glancing curiously in their direction. Aidan takes hold of his (Josh's) hand and waves with his other one. For good measure, he flashes the girls the kind of smile Josh is sure belongs to someone who never had a two-year sex drought in over two centuries.

"If-If anything, I would be dating up," Aidan assures Sally, absent any sarcasm but still tonally a mix between hostage negotiator and children's TV show host. "I mean, Josh is a doctor—"

"Didn't go to med school." Why is Josh correcting him?

"—Right, uh, Josh could have been a doctor—"

From over Aidan's shoulder, Josh sees the attractive girls exchange an 'awww!' before they waggle their fingers and head back into the living room.

"—He's great with his sister, he... owns more than one sweater vest, and—And!" Aidan continues, clearly scrambling toward the end. "He's seen every episode of Nova."

"Yeah, okay—" When the coast is clear, Josh wrenches his hand out of Aidan's. "Stop patronizing me. Let's say we do this. What happens when I want to bring a girl back to the house—" Even in his periphery, he can see Sally grin, a retort clearly at the ready. He jabs a finger in her direction. "Don't. Aidan, what happens when one of us wants to bring a girl back, huh? What then?"

Aidan thinks about that for a moment... then shrugs. Josh groans. "I—Look, I don't know. We'll cross that bridge when we get to it," Aidan assures him. He looks over at Sally, who nods in agreement even though she's definitely not a part of this whole thing.

Josh takes a moment to think about it, to imagine any outlying repercussions they're not considering. Or, at least, to decide if the symptoms are worth taking the prescribed medication (so to speak). When he comes up blank, he blurts, "Fine. But I'm—we're not kissing."

"I—" Aidan breaks off, starts laughing. "I wasn't planning on it. Figured we'd stick to holding hands, or—Wait, were you?"

"No!" This is truly the weirdest conversation Josh has ever had. He pinches the bridge of his nose. "Look, if anyone asks—"

"Eww," Sally contributes, completely ignoring him. "Why would they? Do you normally ask couples why they're not all over each other in public?"

"—If anyone gets suspicious," Josh amends, "we'll just..."

"Tell 'em we're not big into PDA," Aidan finishes.

Josh snaps his fingers. "Yes, exactly—that we, uh... we like to keep our private life private. At home."

"Hot." Sally fans herself. "Aidan and Josh sitting in a tree, keeping their private life private. K-I—"

"—L-L-I-N-G Sally again if she doesn't stop talking," Josh says through gritted teeth.

"Dude," Aidan bites out reproachfully at the same time Sally lets out a surprised gasp. 

Josh feels his neck grow warm, like he's ten-years-old, back in Ithaca at JDS, and the instructor just caught him copying somebody else's work. Only, a lot worse.

"Yup, heard it as soon as I said it. Sally, I'm sorry." To his surprise, he actually means it. Even more surprising, when she gives him a small nod in acknowledgment, he feels... relieved. 

Aidan considers both of them before looking out at the rest of the party. They've attracted a greater number of curious bystanders, none of whom are being very subtle."So," Aidan directs to Josh somewhat urgently, "what d'ya think? Are you in?"

"Yeah, seriously. You guys have been over here so long, everyone's going to think you're being super rude," Sally admonishes. She considers. "Or that you left to go hook up."

Josh can't take it anymore. He may regret this, but— "Okay, okay. Fine. Yes. I'm in."

Aidan claps him on the back and grins. He's a really good friend, Josh thinks. He's hard pressed to think of any other friend who would agree to move in with him and then fake date him in order to keep his werewolf transformations a secret. Before he can continue that train of thought, something occurs to him.

"Wait a minute," he protests as Aidan guides him back into the fray of the party. "Can we go back to the part where, apparently, one of my only three endearing qualities is that I own two sweater vests?"

Sally cackles behind them.

—

Three days exactly after Tony the sleazy 80s glam rock ghost—the one who taught Sally how to move from room to room just by thinking about it? Yeah, three days exactly after that guy (ghost?) walks through his door and disappears forever, there's an... incident.

Or, at least, that's what Aidan is calling it. But whatever. He wasn't there at the time of the... incident (ughhh), so he really shouldn't get to have a say. In Josh's completely unbiased opinion.

Anyway, it happens like this:

After three back-to-back Ripley's Believe It or Not reruns, Sally calls it. She's officially bored. Bored! With a capital "B."

Unwittingly, her thoughts drift to Danny (as they always do), and she feels—well, not really feels, since she can't feel anything anymore—the familiar ache in her chest. The one that spurs on desolate thoughts of what they had, what they could have been, and how her death was an unfairly finite end to all of it.

So, she tries (really, she does) to focus on something—literally anything—else. It works for a little while. She recalls almost turning the page in one of Aidan's massive, dusty books yesterday. (It was literally filled with old Red Sox rosters and various batting lineup statistics from the 1920s, as well as an excruciatingly dull analysis of how those were affected in 1912 when the team moved from the Huntington Avenue Grounds to Fenway).

Anyway, she knows for a fact that the book page fluttered. But maybe... she realizes it was probably the breeze coming in from the kitchen window. The one Josh forgot to close earlier.

Thinking about all of this reminds her that not only is she dead, but also that she's kind of sucking at this whole ghost thing. Two incredibly depressing thoughts to have, honestly. So, she switches gears and tries to recall how Tony taught her to move from room to room. It was supposed to work just like apparating in Harry Potter, right? Just visualize where you want to go, and poof, you're there?

She closes her eyes and pictures the kitchen, with the table and the sink full of dishes (seriously, only one of them eats—how are there so many?) and one of Aidan's used blood bags—wait, now she's just making a cleaning-to-do list. She starts at the beginning, clearing her mind, only thinking about Tony's instructions.

Let's see, he first appeared in their shower, and—ugh, she remembers thinking about how majestically gross his mullet was. Plus, with the way the light reflected off the porcelain tub, it looked like he had a halo, and—

"Oh, my God—Sally?!"

She startles, eyes flashing open, only to find herself practically face to face with Josh, who's standing under a torrent of shower spray, and, oh yeah—is completely naked.

"What are you doing in here?" he demands, horrified.

Sally is frozen to the spot. She tries to jam her eyes shut, just as he abruptly covers himself, but it's too late. She's literally seen too much. "I wasn't—I didn't come in here on purpose!"

"Well, could you get out of here on purpose?"

"Yeah. I-I mean, yes, I'm trying, but it's not—" She keeps trying to picture the wide, open space of the living room, but all she can think on repeat is Josh is naked, Josh is in the shower, and he is naked. So, naturally, she starts rambling. "—it's not an exact science! But, hey! On the plus side, I barely saw anything. I-I can't even fully verify that you're circumcised—"

"Oh, my God," Josh says again, accompanied by some kind of strangled noise. "Get. Out."

He reaches through her and shuts off the water. Or, so she assumes. Her eyes are still jammed shut. But when she hears the shower rings grate against the rod and the curtain whoosh, her suspicions are confirmed.

"Okay, but this—" She peeps to see if the coast is clear but is met by Josh's backside instead. He hastily wraps a towel around his waist just as she jams her eyes shut again. "It could be so much worse, Josh—"

"How?" he demands, voice cracking. He clears his throat. "How could this possibly be worse?"

She's not prepared for his response, especially because her efforts to physically remove herself from the room keep getting derailed by the thought that he's kind of shredded for a super nerd. So, naturally, she's absolutely not thinking when she blurts, "Well, that shower is not big, so good thing I'm transparent. 'Cuz otherwise... awkward—"

"ROOMMATE MEETING. NOW!" he bellows before she hears him storm down the hall.

—————

The living room is still blissfully empty when Sally arrives (the normal way, not telepathically because of course it wouldn't work on command when she really, really needed it to). She takes a moment to prepare herself, or to brace for whatever Josh will say to—well, let's be real here, yell at—them at this meeting.

Aidan comes down the stairs, yawning. He's mid-stomach scratch when she looks over at him, but her eyes are drawn to the sliver of skin above the waistband of his scrubs, now visible thanks to the whole scratching thing.

"Hey," he says when he sees her. He takes a seat on the couch next to her. "Any idea what this is about?"

Up close, she can see his scrubs are rumpled and his hair is sticking up at a lot of weird angles, like he just woke up from a nap. Which he probably did (she overheard him and Josh last week talking about there being a staff shortage at the hospital, probably because of all the vampire turnings, but whatever—they didn't ask her). Rather than looking disheveled, though, Aidan just looks hot... ter.

Before Danny came into the picture (she'll remember to feel guilty later for even considering such a scenario later), this would have been the ideal scenario: living with two hot guys—well, one hot guy and one passably good-looking guy—going out to bars, having parties, etc. But rather than being able to enjoy any of the possible benefits that could come from such an arrangement, here she was, stuck being dead.

Aidan is looking at her strangely until she realizes he's waiting for her to respond.

"Oh," she says, trying to shake off that line of thought (because she should absolutely clarify that in this scenario, she's not talking about benefits benefits, especially—God, no, especially not with Josh). "Uh—"

"I'll tell you what this is about," Josh says suddenly, almost as if she summoned him (she didn't... oh, God, did she?). He thunders down the stairs, two at a time, before coming to stand in front of both of them.

He's still not wearing anything—actually, super important correction: he still has his towel wrapped around his waist, he's just not wearing any clothing. But he's definitely avoiding looking at her directly. Which is fine with her because, honestly? Same.

"I believe it was John Locke who first coined the term 'social contract,'" Josh begins.

"Actually," Aidan chimes in, "it was Rousseau. I met the guy once. Such a pompous windbag, but—"

"Whatever. My point is that whenever people—individuals—agree to come together and form a society, they sacrifice certain... entitlements in order to coexist peacefully," Josh further explains. "This—our house—is a type of society. And we live under a social contract that entails respecting each other. Primarily, respecting each other's personal boundaries."

Aidan looks lost. "Um... Okay. Sure." He tries to hide a smirk. "You, uh, you think respecting boundaries might involve wearing pants in the common areas, bud?"

The light coming in from the bay window highlights some interesting contours on Josh's person, including the admittedly decent musculature on his otherwise lean frame. Once again, Sally finds herself involuntarily impressed.

(Seriously, though, she's witnessed him watch a TNG marathon on SyFy for fourteen episodes straight without getting up off the couch once. On multiple occasions. Sooo... how? Was it a werewolf thing? Like, was his metabolism just supernaturally fast? Or did he have a membership to a CrossFit gym that she and Aidan were just totally oblivious to?).

"Josh." Aidan's voice pulls her back to the present. "What the hell is—?"

"I accidentally transported into the shower while Josh was using it," Sally confesses at the same time Josh blurts, "Sally walked in on me while I was in the shower."

She rolls her eyes at him. "I did not walk in on you."

"No, you just materialized in on me," he insists. "Oh, thank—thank you, Sally! That distinction really helps with all—" He frantically gestures in a circle. "—this."

"How many times do I have to tell you?" she demands because honestly? He's being such a drama queen. "I didn't do it on purpose!"

If he wasn't awake before, Aidan is now. He opens his mouth, then snaps it shut before he leans forward and looks at Sally. "Wait, you did it?" he asks her, grinning in a way that makes him look much younger. "You traveled to another room?"

"Not the takeaway!" Josh fumes.

She ignores him and says to Aidan, "I'm still trying to figure it out fully—I couldn't materialize away from the bathroom—but yeah." His enthusiasm is infectious because she can feel a huge smile break out on her face. "I really did it."

"Sally, that's amazing!"

"No. Nuh-uh. Not amazing!"

She turns on Josh. "You're unbelievable! Wasn't the whole point of this—the whole reason you guys brought that sleemo over here—was so I could learn how to leave the house—?"

"—Aidan, this is not amazing!"

"God," Sally says, drawing out the syllable to three, "you are such a killjoy, Josh!"

"W-Wait—Hold on a second." Aidan hops off the couch and comes to stand between both of them. He faces her. "Didn't you tell me Tony said you had to focus on your destination—like really think about it—in order to make it work?"

All three of them fall silent, and it's only then that Sally realizes how close she's standing to Josh. She must have gravitated toward him while they were arguing. But they sure aren't arguing now. No, siree. They're just sort of... standing there, close enough that she swears she can feel his body heat (even though, she can't emphasize this enough: she can't actually feel anything), and looking at each other. But, like, in an intense, sort of charged kind of way? The really cheesy, mostly poorly written romance books Bridgette always swore she never read (but totally did) would have described it as heated. But that right there is exactly the problem.

They both seem to realize what's happening at the same time (more so the implication of Aidan's comment than the whole heated look thing, thank God) because Sally jumps back just as Josh shoves an accusatory finger in her direction.

"You were thinking about me in the shower?"

"What? No! I was thinking about the bathroom—"

"—which I was occupying—!"

"Yeah, but I wasn't—I didn't know you were in there." Then, because it suddenly feels important to defend herself beyond any reasonable doubt, she adds, "Obviously!"

From the corner of her eye, she can see Aidan's mouth gape uselessly as he pieces everything together. She does a double take—yes, an actual double take—when he tries to (poorly) cover the How the Grinch Stole Christmas-level, shit-eating grin that's regrettably taking up residence on his dumb, attractive face.

"Aidan, no."

He throws his hands up. "I didn't say anything," he insists innocently. "But... 'personal boundaries?' Y'know it—well, this all makes sense now."

"No, it doesn't!" Josh tears his gaze from Sally to look at Aidan pleadingly. "Aidan, this should make no sense. I think we should just throw a line of salt—as a precaution—at the entrance to the bathroom—"

Sally throws her hands on her hips. "Oh, real nice, Josh. Let's just imprison the ghost in her own home! Which it is, by the way. This is my home—"

"Was," he says, not exactly in a kind tone. "This was your home, Sally. But now it's ours." He gestures between Aidan and himself. "And we really need you to not be some, some... Peeping Tom, or—"

"Wow, okay, so—'Peeping Tom.' Really? I'm not some deviant! But even if I was—"

"If?"

"Yeah, if, Josh. Even if I was, why would I waste my time trying to catch a glimpse of you hanging dong, or whatever—"

"I—that's not—"

"Okay, okay!" Aidan once again steps in between them. "Look, we're all mature, rational adults—"

He's doing a terrible job of trying not to laugh, though, which is why Josh gives an exasperated, "Dude!" and proceeds to ball tap him. Aidan wheezes, suddenly hunching over against any additional attacks.

Sally rolls her eyes. "Way to be neither of those things, Josh."

"Sally, so help me—"

Aidan holds up his hand against Josh. "New plan," he croaks, voice cracking. Tentatively, he stands to full height, then clears his throat. "If we announce when we're about to take a shower—"

Josh frowns. "So, what? Just yell into the void 'I'm about to get in the shower, so please don't walk in on me—sorry, materialize—in on me?"

"I'd... probably fine tune that one, but yeah, that's the general idea," Aidan says before Sally can snap back at Josh. He addresses her directly when he asks, "If we give you some kind of heads up, can you promise to give the bathroom a wide berth?"

Sally sinks back onto the couch and huffs. "Yes—"

"See?" Aidan nudges Josh. "Look at that, problem solved."

"Yeah, I'll believe it when I see it," Josh grumbles. "Or, I guess don't see Sally—"

"—But I would like the record to show that I did not materialize into the shower while Josh was using it on purpose," Sally makes sure to add. "Somehow, I don't think that point is getting across as clearly as I would like."

"Oh, no," Aidan smirks. He yawns and purposefully makes his way around the couch and up the stairs. "It's very clear. I just... well, I just wonder how the neighbors would react to Josh showering with someone who is definitely not his loyal boyfriend of... two and a half months?"

"Aidan!"

Josh hurdles over the couch, losing his towel in the process, but Aidan is already at the top of the steps. Sally rushes to cover her eyes, but once again does so far too late.

"Oh, my God!" she screeches at the same time Aidan hollers, "Now, I've got a shift in a few hours. Next person who wakes me up, I will not hesitate to bleed dry."

His door resolutely slams shut, leaving Josh and her in its suddenly way too quiet wake. This time, Sally doesn't risk opening her eyes.

#don't get me wrong #I am absolutely here for aidan x sally #but josh x sally is just a lot of fun #as per usual it is up to me to write the rare pair fic I want to see in the world #being human us #being human us fic #josh x sally #josh levison #sally malik #aidan waite #back on my sam witwer nonsense tbh #my writing #my fic

[loominggaia]

Also why did Ivy marry Dorito Dusk?

You know, that's actually a damn good question. Why would someone marry a sentient pile of rat feces? It boggles the mind...

In all seriousness, I'm sure it all came down to money and power. Ivy was a criminal before she married Dario (I mean, she was a criminal after she married him too, but she was no longer a broke criminal!). She always dreamed of power, riches, and beauty. Dario was a convenient vehicle for her to obtain all that, and she wasn't above degrading herself to achieve her goals, considering she was a prostitute/killer/thief in the first place.

Marrying Dario wasn't even her ultimate goal, it was just one of the steps along the way. In "Ghoul Beneath the Guise", it's implied that she'd been waiting for the opportunity to usurp him as clan master for a long time. This piece of dialogue is our first hint:

     Breathlessly, [Lily] told her, “You look just like a princess! Are you a real princess, lady? Like in the storybooks?”

     [Ivy] cocked her head, a tiny crease forming between her brows. Then she laughed, high and bright as a bell. “No, dear girl, I regret to say I am not! Although my husband does own a castle, so perhaps that makes me some sort of queen. Queen Ivy…I like the sound of that!”

Ivy wants to be a queen. She wants ultimate power over her makeshift "kingdom". Although Dario believed he was the smartest person in the Dusk clan, several scenes prove that Ivy was a hell of a lot smarter than him. She had him fooled, and she would often influence the clan by manipulating him, using him as a puppet without him even realizing she was pulling his strings.

This is never explicitly stated in the series, but you have to wonder if the whole situation with Lilian was a setup on Ivy's part. She'd been married to Dario for centuries before that; she knew exactly what made him tick. She had to have known he wouldn't be able to control himself around Lilian. Early in the story when she's trying to convince Dario to let them keep her, she even emphasizes the girl's beauty and purity.

Ivy wasn't stupid; she knew what a vile piece of shit her husband was before she even married him. If there was anything beautiful and pure around him, he couldn't help but defile it, and she was well aware of that. Ivy never loved him, she just tolerated his abuse in exchange for immortality and a wealthy lifestyle.

Personally I think she took Lilian in because she knew Dario would attack her eventually, and then Ivy would finally have the blackmail she needed to usurp his power. She was playing the long game. A few years is nothing to a centuries-old immortal vampire.

Also I want to add that Dario didn't treat Ivy nearly as bad as he treated Lilian. Don't get me wrong, he was abusive to Ivy, but Ivy had more agency and control over her situation than Lilian ever did. Ivy was clever and strong enough to stop being his victim at any time, she just chose to stick around and endure it because the benefits were worth it to her. Dario saw Ivy as a potential threat and knew he couldn't get away with treating her the way he treated Lilian.

This is the main thing that motivated him to kill Ivy and marry Lilian instead. Ivy became too much of a threat to his ego as well as his power. He realized he'd been underestimating her until the day she blackmailed him, then I think he finally realized just how conniving she really was and it scared the shit out of him. He'd been plotting her death since that very moment.

TL;DR: Ivy married Diarrhea Doodoo Man because he had a fat wallet and the "gift" of eternal life. She didn't care that he treated her like trash because she was planning to kill him and take his throne someday anyway.

NOW I AIN'T SAYIN SHE'S A GOLD DIGGER...but, well, you know the rest.

*

Questions/Comments?

Lore Masterpost

#ask #askliterature #askivy #askdario #asklilian