#like jesus fuck i get into hobbies for the love of it! for the joy and the accomplishment and the community

[qt-kt]

I'm not even joking nothing makes me want to fully drop a hobby faster than someone else telling me "oh you should sell that" when I share what I've made

#its show and tell not show and sell #maybe im drawing/crocheting/making things for the love of crafting and i dont want to taint the intrinsic value i attain #through the sheer joy of creation #for the stress and burden of creation for the sake of monetization #and FUCK maybe im making things for my damn self and my friends because i want to share love #maybe i wanna make myself a treat for ME!!! #like maybe if i get the urge I'll set up a shop or do some commissions but that is not my end goal for trying to hone a craft #and that shouldnt be what people jump to when i spend hours on something that brings me joy #like jesus fuck i get into hobbies for the love of it! for the joy and the accomplishment and the community #i am not and never have been here to just get money and im FUCKING SICK OF IT MAN #i am fully vaguing my whole family rn btw this has nothing to do with anything anyone on here has said or anything #im just tired of trying new things and immediately being told by everyone surrounding me i should open an etsy shop #also have they even CONSIDERED how much extra energy it would take to sell shit?? id have to go to the post office and do all sorts of shit #w the downtime i barely have already bc i work fulltime w a long ass commute and im in school and doing side projects like! no thanks #ugh #negative #kaite's adventures

[babygirlharrington]

Steddie Fic Rec #3

One Last Class - DragonsFlight

Summary: Dustin enlists Steve to help tutor Eddie so he can graduate.

Explicit, WIP. No triggers, as far as I know. Dustin has a scheme and Steve is, as in canon, a shitty tutor.

standing up the dead - heartofwinterfell @nancywheeeler

Summary: Max and Eddie in the astral plane.

Teen, WIP. Eddie and Max trauma-bond while they try to get back to REAL Hawkins. Max misses (real) Lucas and Eddie doesn’t realise he misses (real) Steve so much? right where i belong - Macellarius

Summary: “You’re a fucking virgin?” Steve blurts out excitedly. Or, a weekend of firsts with Steve and Eddie, who are navigating life and love in the aftermath. (Or, the Varsity Sweater fic.) 

Explicit, Complete. This is part of the author’s series, slowly learning that life is okay, which part I is also very worth reading.  You Just Keep Me Hanging On - DiscoSuperFly

Summary: Hobbies have taken over Fireman Steve's life, he's taking a slow path to find his joy, selling his honey and beeswax products at a local Farmers Market he runs into someone from his past and they're pulled into each other's orbit.

Explicit, Complete. Just two farmer’s market boys living out their little farmer’s market dreams. Very fucking cute. If you want to walk out of hell - RedCytosine @redcytosine

Summary: Eddie makes a miraculous escape from the Upside Down, only to find that while he may have returned to the Shire, Mordor is not finished with him yet. Or, Eddie, found family, a slow romance, and how to save the world.

Mature, WIP. This fic has lots of chapters (and hopefully will have lots more!) and is a very interesting twist on the Kas theory. luckiest man in the world - ghosttotheparty @ghosttotheparty

“Jesus. Imagine that. I’m twenty-one, wanted for murder, thought to be dead, never graduated high school. And I still get to be the luckiest man in the world.”

Mature, Complete. TW for PTSD. Healthy communication between two horny and traumatized lads. Skindeep- HolographicBunny

Summary: Steve just wanted to help Robin sit through her first tattoo. He didn't plan for a certain metal head to come stumbling into his life. Not that he is complaining. Okay, maybe he is complaining a little bit because that’s what he does.

Explicit, WIP. Steve is supposed to be Robin’s hand to hold while she gets her first tattoo. Steve ends up being the one needing his hand held by the end of the appointment. cuddles and cat naps - murdertrashbabyrat @murdertrashbabyrat

Summary: Steve is so relieved that he's getting a few hours of nightmare-free rest for once, that he doesn't notice he's neck deep in a sexuality crisis and that it's all Eddie Munson's fault. Thank god Steve has people like Robin to pull his head out of his ass.

Explicit, WIP. Eddie and his adopted kitten tag-team to make sure Steve gets some goddamn sleep. Lifes For The Living - Cherrycolatree @raspberrycolapop

Summary: Eddie Munson survives but ends up in a coma. Steve Harrington visits him everyday and slowly falls in love with someone who’s barely part of the living world anymore.

Explicit, Complete. Steve realizes he’d been in love with Eddie before, during, and now after his coma.  Mallrat - ozwrites @babygirlharrington

Summary: Eddie takes Mike, Dustin, and Lucas to the nerd store. On the way back to the lot, they pass The Gap, Zales, Jazzercise, and-

“Jesus Christ, dude is that Steve?!”

Explicit, Complete. Steve in his lil’ Scoops outfit. Yes, another act of shameless self-advocacy for this one before I drop a new fic.

#steve harrington #stranger things #BI STEVE #steddie #steveddie #eddie munson #steddie fic #steve x eddie #bi steve harrington #steve stranger things #eddie x steve #steddie fic rec #steddie stranger things #gay eddie munson #yeah so this one is all over the place im fighting for my life in the ao3 tags #but these are all certified bangers! promise! #I wish i could made recommending fics easier but the ao3 feed is so active fics just get buried #im tryin im tryin #gonna do a completely sfw rec soon i know i said that last time #caspar certified post

[cordycepsfem]

Jesus christ, nearly every single post on your blog is about trans people & obsessively "bedunking" the existence of trans people. Get a fucking hobby. This is wildly unhealthy.

Might I suggest kite-flying? Or anything that *isn't* obsessively hating a minority?

I have lots of wonderful hobbies. As a kid, kite-flying was actually one of them! I used to do it with my dad. Now I’m into paper crafting, writing, sewing, reading, video games… but thank you for the kind suggestion. Between you and the nice person earlier who somehow wanted me to “be better” in a life that’s full of joy and health and love (to be better would… I don’t know, mean I was in heaven!), I am so touched by all of the kind messages I’m receiving here lately.

In the spirit of giving, let me pass along my own message to you: men are not a minority. Even men who “feel like” “live like” or “dress like” women, whatever that means. They’re still men.

And despite all these kind messages I’m receiving, I’m still going to talk about men (all men). I’m going to talk about women, too, and what it’s like to be a lesbian, and review books and post dumb memes and speak out against things that are harmful to my community. I’m not going to go anywhere. So maybe there’s actually someone here that needs a hobby, but it isn’t me.

Have a gracious end to your year, and thanks for the positive note! What a great reminder to take time for myself.

[ceilingfan5]

7 (How do you choose which POV to write from?), 19 )What is the most-used tag on your ao3?), 23 (Best writing advice for other writers?), 24 (Worst writing advice anyone ever gave you?), 42 (What’s the last fic you read? Do you recommend it?), 52 (Do you respond to comments, why or why not?), 53 (How do you spend your time when it comes to fanfiction? Are you primarily a fic reader, writer, or a perfect 50/50 split of both?), and 54 (What’s your favorite part about the fanfiction writing process?)

i wanna ask more but we'll be here all day sldkfsdf

thank u !! -ise

first of all ise let it be said that you are doing incredible work by pasting the questions so i dont have to. tumblrs text editor leaves lots to be desired.

7 (How do you choose which POV to write from?)

okay mostly it is vibes and funsies. sometimes an au just hands you a guy. i love switching povs when i do long taakitz fics bc i love both these idiots so much and i love how same and different their internal narration can be, and also i fucking live for the dramatic irony the regular pov switch allows. ("taako looks at him some type of way kravitz can't possibly begin to understand" sort of thing) but also like. sometimes a given scenario screams a certain guy? it's what's fun. mostly.

19 )What is the most-used tag on your ao3?)

if we are talking taz fics only. kissing (12) guess i need to write more fics with tentacles (4)

23 (Best writing advice for other writers?)

you have to roll around in it and you have to find the joy it is imperative

24 (Worst writing advice anyone ever gave you?)

fuck any perception of writing as #content or anything focused on numbers. also fuck pretentious assholes who don't appreciate fanfic. also fuck the idea that fanfic is a stepping stone to "real writing"

42 (What’s the last fic you read? Do you recommend it?)

mine & hell yeah

but uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh jesus christ the last fic i read on ao3 was noodyl's blupjeans week fic I PhDo which was loads of fun. man i haven't read much lately. stares at my folded hands

52 (Do you respond to comments, why or why not?)

almost never and not bc im mean or Above It or whatever, unelss i am directly responding to a question/item of note mostly i don't know what to say and i become a shaking shaving foam facsimile of a small and unwell dog trying to say anything besides Thank You For Your Attention. you??? like????? the words?????????? good job you are A+ liker and i will carry your soul up the ladder to heaven in my teeth

53 (How do you spend your time when it comes to fanfiction? Are you primarily a fic reader, writer, or a perfect 50/50 split of both?)

it's........................up there. i mostly write em. and i reread my own fics bc they were written for me and have all the tropes i like. and finding new fics frustrates me. i want to be handed them already selected and trustworthy like deific kibble

noodyl's stuff rules tho

54 (What’s your favorite part about the fanfiction writing process?)

the part where you get so possessed your eyes go white and the power flows right through you

or the fucking around and throwing spaghetti stage. or the comments

it's a good hobby actually

#thank youuuuu #i hope i don't sound full of myself. im truly just some guy

[system-of-a-feather]

It is really wild how heavily my feelings towards possibly having a semi-normal semi-low stress semi-free life soon swings WILDLY between the normal and expected joy and excitement, and sheer depression and anxiety. It's part of the motions itself and it's the trauma speaking, but the idea of not having my childhood trauma placing strict psychological walls and limits of what I can and can't do just... in a weird way it seems almost miserably boring right now. Like literally 3 hours ago I was excited and relieved but now Im dreading it - and I'm pretty sure I'm still me, maybe I'm still fused with Data as well and its just me swinging between two dominant sides, I can't tell but good god the swings from relief, excitement, joy and just an existential crisis and sense that without the chronic stress and pressure and extremely rigid walls I've been living in if I would even still be me

Which is an anxiety thing, because obviously Ill still be me and obviously life will still suck and be stressful in its own ways, but man is the idea of being relatively free came out of left field and I've only had a month to really realize how close we are to it.

I'm honestly... kind of scared to be happy. I don't think I'm ready for it XD

Like straight up, I'm terrified of being happy and healing now that I'm at a huge threshold point in healing probably. Im just like

Wait wait

Wait no wait

Hold up slow down

I haven't thought about this decision genuinely beyond a theoretical haha thatd be nice but would never happen

And its at my front door

What do you mean Ill have OPTIONS in life other than survive

Im not ready for OPTIONS in life

God someone hide me I'm not ready to live and thrive jesus christ

Most graduating college students I feel have this anxiety around graduating because they have to live on their own, take on independence, and have to adult permanently on their own and that stress I'm good I love that I'm ready for that

But god damn does the freedom of not having to prepare for the next test every 3-4 weeks, the grind to do more and more, and then returning home and not having my own place - that shit, THAT shit scares the fuck out of me

Make me survive on $5 for food a day, fine I can make that work I'm used to and good at struggling and suffering. Give me a home and money that I make myself and let me live with my supportive and loving fiance and engage in my hobbies when I get the chance because I succeeded at immense cost at preparing for the work force?????????

Relaxing?! ENJOYING LIFE?! terrifying.

Like Im writing this satirically but its unironically the thing thats had me dysregulated for a fucking month. It's getting better and more manageable than before but good GOD have I never more understood the thing my therapist tried to get me to understand that "I have grown comfortable in my misery"

Like I don't want to stay in my current life style god no its not sustainable, but to get BETTER? To have a chance at something nice? Somehow right now that sounds scarier than the current life cause man, I know my misery. Even when my brain genuinely doesn't see this as a "waiting for second shoe to drop" the level of which I am so unfamiliar with existing in anything but a chronic trauma response state and the possibility that I might not be in a chronic trauma response state TERRIFIES me.

And Im really here going "Don't worry we still live in a dystopian capitalist society and life will still suck its okay" to ease my anxiety and good god

I fucking god PTSD man. Someone without PTSD aint like this man

-Riku

#alter: riku #vent #vent tw #feel free to reblog and discuss on this tho #im within my coping range but good god #there is this huge dissonance in what I think and know I should feel and what I do feel #of course thankfully I also understand how this is and this is also “how I should feel” and so I am fine giving it space to air #but good god is it a weird conflict of logical and emotional brain #PTSD #C-PTSD #recovery #healing

[i-am-totally-human]

I volunteered at Silicone Valley Pride today and it was so much fun. I love being fruity and proud and celebrating that with my pals. Also my mom was big part of planning the parade <333

And the sky looked like the crack in Amy’s wall from Doctor Who at about 8 in the morning.

We drove on a golf cart with 7 ppl and a bunch of stuff at the end and I stood waved a free rainbow flag I got with only arm and foot on the cart and that was our cool volunteer float. I told everyone I saw with i Bowie shirt on that I loved their shirts.

The couple ppl I saw with their sign saying “Jesus will save you from hell” are losers tho and need to find better use of their time. (Seriously tho like get an unproblematic hobby)

There was a giant inflatable Jesus with a Pride flag and thousands of happy gorgeous ppl and bubbles and floats with rainbows, free rad Pride stickers, fans, flags, and cool booths and food, and performances from different groups like the theater company I do theater with, and many different beautifully diverse groups and their joy there and it was rad as fuck

#random #I’m fruit #queer pride #pride #bisexual #nonbinary #gay #queer #:)))) #sorry for the long random post😭

[cupidmanic]

anyways, i've been really into perfecting my sandwiches recently. it's been bringing me a lot of joy i'm not even gonna lie. and i've found a new way to fuse my love 4 graphic design again and i'm happy i've been finding more time/forcing my discipline to enjoy other things routinely and not sporadically. soon, once school ends, i'll have a wider gap of time that i'm not used to having (supposedly). i don't want to fall into the miserable trap of just working. i still want to be enriched in learning, and i want to get in the habit of staying consistent with my hobbies and i really have been. i'm taking my senior pics this week. i really can't believe i'll be done ("done") with school but jesus fucking christ i'm glad i saw it through. i'm so grateful for every single thing i experienced. i'm so grateful for my job, and the career(s) i've chosen to go into. and i'm so proud for coming this far man. shit has not been easy, it still isn't, but i'm so glad i didn't give up on myself. all those times i felt like i was nothing, feel more and more distant as i grow. i deserve to be happy. i deserve to be treated well, even more than that. i could honestly use some affection too but i'm tryna be patient i'm tryin lmao. i'm excited for the next chapter, i'm excited for everything happening this summer, i'm excited to move, and i'm mostly excited to make another salmon sandwich. i am so grateful for all that this life has shown me, and there truly is only better to come, in all aspects. i am growing into the woman i always wanted to be. this period of life is for refining myself and pouring into myself in new ways, not only for myself, but so that my loved ones can continue to receive the best version of me and more importantly so i can attract the right people in my life too. thank you to the past versions of me that got me to this point. i am relieved, and so blessed with the joy of seeing another day, and being able to start over again and again as needed. i won't let anything, not even myself, get in the way of this beautiful life i am building. i'm proud of you, briana raye. you're a smart girl, and you know exactly what you want. don't settle for a thing

[teaboot]

As the oldest child I have done everything I can to impart my wisdom onto my younger siblings, and now out of general boredom I shall share this knowledge with you:

1. The scary adult business place is just as scared of you as you are of it, just stay calm

2. There is always someone stupider than you and they've probably already done the stupidest thing you're scared of doing, don't worry about it

3. If you're playing, play fair. If you're fighting, fight dirty- don't mix that shit up.

4. Don't stick your dick in crazy

5. Highschool doesn't matter and everyone around you is a dumb child. Get what you need to graduate, use all the free shit, and have fun.

6. Don't worry about acing the class- just pass the class. Just passing is good enough.

7. Adults don't know what the fuck they're doing half the time, but they're scared of you finding out so don't call them on it or they'll double down

8. Eat all the garbage food you want NOW because when you get to Puberty: The Final Chapter you'll start tasting the weird chemical shit and it won't feel as good

9. The vast majority of your government couldn't find it's ass with both hands, they fuck up all the time and at some point they'll fuck up with you. Just roll with it.

10. When in doubt, go with your gut. People who go with their gut survive. The ones that don't survive don't talk about not surviving because they're dead. It's actually kind of 50/50

11. Get punched at least once so you know if you can handle it

12. If you know something is going to make you sick, don't do it.

13. Fear is your friend and they want you to be safe, but sometimes your friend is controlling and overbearing and you need to enforce your fucking boundaries. Jesus Christ, I'm not going to die at the grocery store

14. What doesn't kill you makes for a good story to tell at parties

15. As an extension of 14, sometimes when multiple choices lay ahead, you have to go with the one that makes the better story.

16. Don't do anything when you're angry. Wait ten minutes and then do something. Maybe even take a nap first.

17. Most things aren't such a big deal after a nap, a shower, a snack, or a glass of water.

18. If someone you love were to die tomorrow, what's the one thing you'd want them to know? Tell them that. More than once, if necessary. Whenever the impulse strikes.

19. Do Not Buy Dollar Store Peanut Butter. I Cannot Stress This Enough. Do Not Buy Dollar Store Peanut Butter.

20. Don't cheap out on garbage bags.

21. There is a quiet, noble dignity in humble work. Respect that.

22. Respect is not a thing that can be demanded, dignity is not a thing you can bottle, and all the knowledge and talent in the world can't buy joy if you're an asshole.

23. The ultimate punishment that comes to all unrepentantly mean and cruel people is that they are doomed to waste their life being a mean and cruel person.

24. Everything weird you loved as a kid is still awesome and there's nothing stopping you from going back.

25. Wash your plate as soon as you're done with it.

26. You can use the toddler's brand bubblegum toothpaste if you think the mint shit is nasty

27. This isn't advice it's a threat but if you piss all over the communal toilet seat and don't clean up after yourself I'm going to hunt you down John Wick style and snap your legs like pretzel sticks

28. Find an entertaining physical hobby, it'll do wonders for your mental health.

29. Anger is a positive emotion, just don't let it control you.

30. Glitter isn't annoying it's beautiful and it belongs everywhere

31. Sometimes people aren't misunderstood, they're just unpleasant

32. If something new isn't willing to meet you halfway, you don't need them.

33. Never paint a room lavender, it always ends up looking grey after a while and it's depressing as shit yo

34. Again I cannot stress this enough if I walk into a bathroom and find piss all over the toilet seat I'm not even going to bother asking you to take care of it I'm just going to nuke the house from orbit and take us both out at once, don't fucking leave piss all over the fucking seat

35. Buy gold

#Threats #violence #death tw #teaboot

[miserablemercury]

wide eyed girl

pairing: wilbur x fem!reader

summary: he breaks ur heart:/

warnings: break up, heartbreak, drinking, smoking, cheating, swearing, angst

word count: 1.1k

a/n: inspired by space song by beach house. the relating lyrics are in typewriter text.

"hello, darling." your boyfriend slouches over you, lovingly nuzzling his nose in your neck. he lazily wraps his arms around your torso; his warm chest presses comfortingly into your back.

"you're distracting me wil," you smile softly, turning to face him but staying in his arms. you were in the middle of making popcorn when he decided to bear hug you for some attention.

it's become a friday night routine for the two of you to stay in together and watch a movie. although you didn't always mind going out, you much preferred to quietly watch something alone, falling asleep in his arms each time.

"why don't we..." he takes the bowl from your hands and sets it aside, "go out tonight?"

you loop your arms around his neck and play with his hair a bit as you decide. biting your lip and looking into his pleading brown eyes, you curse him for how hard he makes it for you to say no to him.

"i mean, where would we go? it's pretty late," you say, hoping he would change his mind. not to sound jealous, but you like having him all to yourself. he tends to get caught up in the social scene and leave you behind a bit quickly, and although unintentional, it still hurts.

"one of my friends is having a party. we don't even have to stay for long, alright? as soon as you wanna leave, we'll go. i just thought it would be a nice change. plus, you would like them." after a moment of silent contemplation from your end, he mutters a soft "please?".

it will take a while; to make you smile

you're hesitant, but it seems like this is something he really wants, so you sigh and agree. and with the way he grins and kisses you afterwards, it makes it all worth it.

the way he gently grips your thigh and nods his head to the songs on the radio on the way there washes away most of the doubts you have, replacing them with adoration. i mean, he did promise that you could leave early if you wanted, right?

the vast number of cars on the front lawn and carpark does nothing to soothe your blooming anxiety.

the colored lights and bass from inside the house contrast harshly with the comfort of you and wilbur alone; they melt together and blur your senses as your legs take you to the front door. he snakes an arm around your waist and excitedly nudges you inside.

the music clears and hurts your ears with a rush as if you've been pulled from underwater. you try to get a sense of your surroundings, although impossibly overwhelmed, when a boy you've never seen before stumbles his way over to you and your scattered boyfriend.

"soot! what's up? did you just get here? come get a drink!" the stranger recklessly loops an arm around his neck, starting to walk towards the kitchen. as he's pulled farther away from you, wil's grasp on your waist loosens, and you miss his warm touch even before he goes completely. he looks at you as he clumsily stumbles a bit, eyes asking for permission to go.

somewhere in these eyes; i'm on your side

you only nod slightly, his relieved smile like a dagger in your chest.

you sigh and decide to at least try to enjoy yourself while you're here; the music travels from the floor up into your shoes as you push through the crowd of sweaty strangers, making your way to the kitchen. grabbing a red plastic cup, you glance at the extensive array of alcohol bottles and opt for tap instead; you can't trust anyone else to look after wilbur, and you would never forgive yourself if something happened to him while you were too drunk to stand.

colored lights flash red, purple, blue, green, pink, on a cycle in time with the music as you walk into the living room. your nerves heighten a bit when you don't spot wil anywhere.

fuck, fuck, fuck, you internally curse yourself for leaving him alone with a bunch of drunk strangers, hastening into the main hall to try and find him.

a quiet sigh of relief leaves your mouth as you see him stagger out of a bathroom, a joint in one hand. but this feeling doesn't last long when you see his arm slung across a girl's shoulders.

your brows furrow as you consider how this might be another friend you haven't met, but then he takes a drag, and pulls her closer to shotgun the smoke into her mouth, and gives her a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss, and keeps her close with his hand on the small of her back like he does to you, and oh, god you feel sick, and the music sounds muffled now, and he looks over and sees you, his hypnotic half-lidded eyes piercing your heart, and you turn and run out the door, and you might vomit, or cry, or both.

you wide-eyed girls; you get it right

you can't process him rushing out behind you, spinning you to face him by the forearm. tears blur your vision as you search for any sense of remorse in his face, coming up short; all there is to find is regret for getting caught.

"jesus, wil, you're fucking drunk. don't- just get back inside."

you can't seem to make out what he's uselessly shouting at you as you leave, and it doesn't seem to matter, anyway.

tender is the night for a broken heart

oh, how the months following felt like a million lifetimes.

necessary daily tasks suddenly seem unimportant, and things that used to spark joy and excitement now bore you.

on and off you cry for weeks or more on end, dreaming of him every night; sometimes of the way he kissed you, sometimes of the way he kissed that someone else.

but all you can mull over is how he's feeling. is he broken as well? is he worth a second chance?

who will dry your eyes when it falls apart?

do those questions even matter?

what makes this fragile world go round? were you ever lost? was she ever found?

one day, though, you find yourself smiling at a favorite show, and picking an old hobby back up, and having your own movie night.

but even through everything he's done, you know that a part of you still loves him.

like a moth to a light, or some poetic, sappy shit like that, you think.

somewhere in these eyes, fall back into place...

#wilbur soot #wilbur #wilbur imagine #wilbur x reader #wilbur x you #wilbur x y/n #mcyt #mcyt wilbur #mcyt ff #mcyt angst #mcyt imagine #mcyt x you #mcyt x reader #mcyt x y/n #mcyt fic #dsmp #dsmp wilbur #dsmp angst #dsmp imagine #dsmp x you #dsmp x reader #dsmp x y/n #dsmp fic

[strawberrylemonz]

Innit an Adventure

An addition to the AU, lol. Instead of chat being in his head, like Techno’s, Tommy’s chat are ghosts that follow him around :)

This one is dedicated to @ivorylin for being very supportive of my first post regarding this au. This is also dedicated to @petrichormeraki for being poggers and enjoying the first part of this series, as well as inspiring it.

Part 1

Part 2 [CURRENT]

Part 3

--------

“Brother!!! Pog!!!”

“Big brother returns!”

“HE CALLED HIM STARCHILD, I’M GONNA SOB”

“I just woke up, what’s happening?”

“GOODBYE SBI, HELLO HERMIT GRIAN”

”HERMIT HOMIES HOURS”

“HOLY SHIT, HE’S OUR BROTHER”

“I was getting a snack, what’s up?”

“DJLFKNGON I’M GOANNA   CRYSLK”

“BEST BROTHER EVER”

“I’m on the toilet, pog”

“I have tacos :)”

“BRGB SOBBING”

“GRIAN POGGGG”

“This makes me happy you didn’t do a double flip”

“ADIOS TECHNOBRO AND WILBRO, I ONLY KNOW BIG BRO G!!!”

“Anyone else have dust in their eyes?”

“CHAOS DUO RELATED POG”

Tommy let out a shaky breath as he rubbed his eyes. Chat was going crazy at the new news and, to be honest, he couldn’t blame them. If he was in their position, he’d be freaking out alongside them. Wanting to end both the silence that filled the cavern and the nonsense Chat was saying, Tommy let out a hoarse laugh before speaking.

“Chat really likes you, G.”

A smile formed on the teen’s face as his head bounced with the hefty laugh that came from Grian, whose chest began to rumble alongside the laughter. Finally lifting his head off his brother’s chest, Tommy allowed the remaining tears in his eyes to fall as he looked to Grian’s face. Grian smiled fondly back at Tommy, wiping away the tears from his little brother’s eyes. 

“I suppose I should say hello to all of them. Is Chat similar to Techno’s voices?”

Concern flashed across Grian’s face as Tommy flinched at the mention of Technoblade. It was small, and could have been easily overlooked if Grian wasn’t watching his brother like a hawk. He made a mental note to ask about that later that night, when they were around the campfire.

“Nah, he’s just insane. Psychotic or some shit like that. I’m just really fucking cool and can see spirits and shit.”

Eyebrows from the crowd (shit, they were still there, weren’t they?) and Grian were raised as someone Stress half heartedly scolded Tommy for his language. Tommy just rolled his eyes, knowing that they only scolded him as a joke. They had all grown accustomed to his wording, and were worried when he didn’t slip in a few curses into his sentences.

“Spirits?”

“Yeah, spirits. I call em Chat most of the time, but they have different nicknames, and they all have individual names. Clara explained that it was one of the many side effects to her marking me as a ‘Starchild’ in her name. They are the spirits of the lands, from servers all around, or some shit like that. I can see them all, but they make the choice to stick with me or not.”

This was...news. Grian, who was still processing that he his baby brother was alive, sitting right in front of him, as well as the fact that Clara was real, could only stare. He wasn’t so sure how to feel about his brother being indifferent to all the spirits, but he suppose that it couldn’t be helped. Spending pretty much your entire life seeing spirits would make him indifferent to the spirits as well. 

“So, Chat is...everywhere?”

“Basically, yeah”

Grian hummed as he proceeded to greet Chat, being polite to the beings he couldn’t see. Much to the annoyance of Tommy, Chat seemed to be loving Grian even more. Maybe a bit too much.

“HE’S SO POLITE”

“How thoughtful of him”

“HELOO HI GRI A  N HWAHT’S UP BRO”

“Grian bro supremacy”

“GRIAN BRO SUPREMACY”

“HERMIT HOMIE WOOOOOO”

“BEST BRO POG”

“holY SHIT I’M IN LOV E ADKNVOD”

“THE RACCOON HAS A POG BROTHER WOOO”

“HI GRIAN HI”

“Rodent brothers??? pog?????”

“HELLOHELLOHELLOHENSLO”

“TELL HIM WE SAID HI, CHILD”

“Woah, woah, woah, woah, woah, calm down, calm down, calm down, calm down. Chat says hi, Grian. And, hey, I’m not a child, what the fuck!? I’m a big man!”

Impulse snickered as Mumbo walked over to the two brothers. Smiling down at them, he helped the two back to their feet. Grian smiled as he set a hand on Tommy’s shoulder, squeezing it slightly. Tommy, in turn, beamed with pride at his brother and his friends. 

“Alright, we spent enough time being emotional and shit. Let’s get going, I have more cool shit to show you guys.”

Laughter filled the cavern as Tommy fixed his hair, his booming man child I’m not a child voice being drowned out as he led them back outside. Slightly huffing. He let out a yelp as he was nearly tackled to the ground from behind. Letting out undignified noises of protest, he turned to see the smug smile of Grian, who was ruffling his hair. 

“Alright, big man, show us your land of paradise!”

Barking out a hearty laugh, Tommy ducked out from his brother’s hand before grabbing it, spinning a few times, and pulling him forward. 

“Aw, look at them!”

“Wait, so Grian has two sections now?”

------

The traditional booth games in Tavern Town were fun. From balloon darts to milk bottles, to ladder climb and hoop toss, Tommy thought of it all. Unique designs decorated each booth, all holding an individual and unique look. Everything about the area was impressive.

“Where did buy get these for the games? I don’t think I’ve ever seen them in the main server.”

Tommy peered over to Doc, who was inspecting the prizes neatly strung up on all the booths. There were plushies of different types of mods, some familiar, others not. They came in all types of colors and sizes, and were overall impressive. Walking up beside Doc, Tommy just shrugged his shoulders, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck.

“I didn’t buy them, I made them.”

Scar perked up, before jumping right into the conversation.

“You what? Toms, that’s impressive! I didn’t know you could sew.”

‘Fucking hell,’ Tommy thought to himself. He didn’t expect to get praise for his simple hobbies.

“Yeah, I sew. I’m actually pretty crafty, being resourceful and shit. I also knit and crochet. It’s not much, but it’s really fucking therapeutic and all that jazz.”

Before anyone else could comment, a dinging noise sounded at one of the booths. Turning to look at the cause of the commotion, they saw that Stress and Impulse had won a game together. Giving each other fist bumps, they watched as a screen popped up, giving them prize options to choose from. After receiving their prizes, they hurried over to Tommy with smiles painted on their faces.

“You bet we’re gonna win one of each plush here.”

A high pitched laughter erupted from Tommy, who was starting to enjoy his decision to hand make all the prizes in his park. Wiping away a tear of joy, the teen I’m eighteen, I’m a fucking man! You’re a child, Tommy beamed at his friends, who smiled warmly in return. Tommy’s joy seemed to increase as more booth alarms were set off, many more prizes coming off the shelves. By the time everyone was ready for the next land, they all had at least two plush toys each.

———

“This is delicious! You baked these?!”

The group was currently sitting in the seating area in the Dream SMP section of the park, more specifically, L’manburg. They had gotten pastries from the duplicate bakery that belonged to Niki. According to Tommy, it was an exact replica to the real thing. The pastries sold there were the same ones Niki sold back at L’manburg. Tommy had used the recipes and techniques that Niki had demistrated to both him and Tubbo to create the dishes.

“If you think these are good, you should taste Niki’s. I swear, her pastries were sent down from Heaven by Jesus himself. They taste fucking amazing, godly.”

Grian smiled as he nudged Tommy’s shoulder with his own. Popping another sweet cake in his mouth, Tommy quirked an eyebrow as he faced the older boy.

“You should teach me some of your hobbies, Starchild. We can do a hobby exchange.”

Tommy visibly brightened up as he wiped some frosting from around his mouth. Smiling, he nodded his head happily.

“Hell yeah! That sounds fuckin’ amazing!”

The group ate with content as they looked around their area. They had already seen the rest of the Dream server lands. 

“It’s amazing that you’ve made all of this by yourself. You haven’t even showed us the rest of the park yet! Good job, for a child.”

“Hey! I’m not a fucking child! I’m turning 19 soon!”

“Oh yeah, I forgot you were an Aries.”

“What’s wrong with being an Aries?”

“Nothing is wrong with being an Aries, Tango.”

“Oh shut it, you Librarian.”

“Librarian?”

“Yeah, the worst sign.”

“First of all, kid, I’m a Gemini.”

------

The rides and games in the DSMP were very diverse and unique. Tommy had really put a lot of effort and time into every attraction, no matter how small. From things as small as a scavenger hunt through the Badlands, water themed adventures in El Rapids, to fast paced coasters in L’manburg.

“Scoot over, bandit child, I’m sharing this ride vehicle with you.”

“What the fuck, man?”

“Oh, don’t act surprised. I know you made it to where two people share a seat just so you can spend quality time with your brother.”

“Oh, fuck off, I didn’t even know you were my brother until an hour and a half ago.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

The first ride the group decided to board was dubbed A Home. Entering a little shack, everyone boarded their ride vehicles and waited for the ride to begin. While they waited for the vehicles to move, Tommy explained how he managed to use the latest mods that were added to the server to his advantage. He managed to fit different tracks to different rides in the same builds, as well as add animatronics. Just as he was about to receive yet another wave of praise, the ride began.

“It’s like looking at a younger version of you!”

“That’s kinda the point, genius.”

Grian’s statement, as obvious as it was, was true. As the vehicles left the shack and entered the caravan, and animatronic Tommy, merely 16 years of age, welcomed the riders as they witnessed the beginning of a new home, L’manburg. They kept comments to themselves when they saw, yet again, the replica of Tommy’s old base. The ride track took them through different areas of the DSMP, following the young Tommy as he searched for a home.

“-the citizenship of Wilbur Soot and Tommyinnit!!!”

“What?!”

“What does he mean revoked?!”

Before Tommy could reply, the vehicles lurched backwards, keeping the vehicles facing the stage at all times as the animatronics turned to take aim at the riders. It wasn’t until the red stone to the dirt entrance revealed the entry way to Pogtopia that the vehicles did a 180, moving forward into the entry way before going down the spiral steps into the ravine. Laughter filled the air as the group saw animatronics of Tommy, Wilbur and Techno conversing together, joking around and teasing each other. Suddenly, the ride vehicles fell down to the next part of the track, the prime path. As they raced through the tunnel, they witnessed an animatronic Tommy and Tubbo embracing and conversing, their cheerful voices free from worry. The group could only sit in awe as the scenes continued to change.

“-goodbye, Tommy.”

“What does he mean goodbye?!”

“Oh my fucking god, shut up!”

The vehicles suddenly raced through the Nether, coming out to an island far from DSMP. The sign at the entrance of the area welcomed the group to Logstedshire. There, they could see an unhappy Tommy staring out towards the ocean, listening to Chirp as he mumbled nonsense to Clara. And just as quickly as they came, they raced out of the sunny area and into the snow. They raced around the inside of Techno’s cottage before racing outside, towards an empty area. There, an animatronic Tommy yelled out in shock as an animatronic Technoblade pressed a button, turning around as a secret lair was revealed.

“Welcome home, Theseus!”

For the final time, the scene changed. They entered, backwards, into a portal, coming out to face a replica of the spawn to Hermitcraft. There, in wonderous glory, stood an animatronic Xisuma, welcoming the group to Hermitcraft. Then, the track dropped, leaving the riders back at the entrance to the ride.

“Holy shit.”

“Haha! Holy shit is right!”

———

The group quickly learned that Tommy spared no expense in all his attractions. As they explored the different lands, they really saw the individuality of every land. L’manburg had fun rides, including Nation’s Legacy, Blood’s Ballad, Wither’s Wrath, and Creator’s Cabin. Nation’s Legacy is an underground ride that worked like a turntable to tell the history of L’manburg, ending on a grim and looming hint to the possible destruction of the nation. When asked about the fate of L’manburg, Tommy admitted that he appeared in Hermitcraft before he could witness the possible doomsday, so he wasn’t entirely sure what had occured afterwards.

Blood’s Ballad is an interactive ride that used a special red stone technique. The ride vehicles could seat up eight passengers at a time, each using special gloves that allow them to interact with the special ride elements. The goal is to get the most points out of everyone in the ride vehicle. The ride took the group on a journey with Technoblade, the Blood God. The group racked up points training alongside him, as well as fighting all sorts of mobs. By the end of the ride, Tommy was sulking as Stress managed to gather the most points. Stress was enjoying the victory, smiling happily as “SUBSCRIBE TO TECHNOBLADE” boomed through the speakers. 

Wither’s Wrath was more of a small scale ride to enjoy. There were only three ride vehicles, each shaped like a wither and able to hold three riders. Each rider sat in a wither skull. Grian smiled as he pulled Mumbo and Tommy into a a wither vehicle with him. As they strapped in, they were transported to a virtual world where the rules of the game were shared. The goal was to cause the most destruction in the virtual world than the other vehicles. Each player controlled their own skull, making it easier to gather points. At least, that was the case for-

“Fuck yeah! Team Kickass all the way! Check it Grian, Mumbo, we’re badass!”

Creator’s Cabin was simple enough. It was just a large cabin that held enchanted portraits of everyone who resided in the DSMP. The portraits could move within their frames. They could also interact with each other. When the group walked in, the portraits were chatting away with each other. Sam’s portrait seemed to be listening in on the conversation that the portraits of Tubbo, Tommy and Purpled were having, occasionally joining in when he saw fit. Fundy was chatting away with Eret and Niki, a bright smile on his face. Ranboo was timidly peeking over at the group with Tommy and Tubbo, obviously wanting to join in. The portraits of Quackity, Sapnap and Karl were deep in conversation, while the portrait of George was asleep sitting up.

“Hey, Tommy?”

“Yeah?”

“Why are there two portraits of Wilbur?”

“Oh, right. Grian, about Wilbur-”

“AHOY THERE! WHY DON’CHA BOARD ME SHIP AND CONQUER THE WATERS WITH ME?”

The group, aside from Tommy, jumped at the booming voice. Without hesitation, they all ran out to the water, searching for the source of the voice. There, out on the water, stood a lone animatronic. It was the animatronic of a petite woman, one with red curls dancing around as she swayed and spoke. Once more, her confident, melodic voice filled the air. 

“JOIN ME ON MY QUEST TO RIDE THE WONDROUS WAVES OF THE SEAS”

With that, she raised her right arm, hoisting a sword into the air. On cue, she began to rise as a ship emerged from the sea below her. Once it was no longer submerged, the ship rocked a few times before settling. A banner unraveled and blew in the breeze, the name of the area now visible for all to see. 

Sally de Mon’s Sea Voyage

“You like it? Creating the entrance for this ride was a fucking bastard. Kept me up all night and crap. Almost gave up completely on it.”

“It’s amazing! I was not expecting to see something like that!

“Hey, Tommy? Who’s Sally. I don’t think it was ever explained how you know her?”

“Really? I gotta fix that, then. Sally is my sister-in-law who-”

“I HAVE A SISTER-IN-LAW?!”

“Oh, shit...surprise?”

------

The Badlands was a fun, interactive section of the DSMP area. The various puzzles and mazes made it fun for all the participants. The muffin stand was also a fan favorite to the hermits. 

El Rapids was a water-filled adventure. Because he wanted to play around with the word rapids, Tommy made several water-based rides and activities, his favorite being the log ride. They just seemed to be the perfect addition to the area, adding a way to cool down to balance all the water-free rides. It seemed as if Tommy had thought of every type of ride for every type of biome and scenario.

SMP Earth was another large section of the park. It also held the only other largest ride in the entire park, one that led the riders throughout the Antarctic Empire, as well as its surrounding cities and towns. The area for the empire was beautiful decorated in colors of all kind. Flowers and banners decorated the buildings and streets, brightening up the area. Classic activities, such as the sparing rings and archery, as well as the axe throws and parkour courses were set up. It all felt familiar to Grian, who couldn’t help but smile at his brother. Grabbing one of the fliers, he inspected it before shooting his brother a look of uncertainty.

“You didn’t”

“On the contrary, brother dearest, I did!”

“Did what? What did he do?”

Grian laughed as he showed the group what the flier said. It was decorated in beautiful, hand-drawn flowers. Golden lettering perfectly spelt out the message.

Floral Festival of Spring

Join us in the weeklong celebration of Spring! Enjoy the festivities with friends and family as you explore the traditions held within our grounds. Finally, enjoy the wondrous Floral Gala held on the final night of festivities. Dawn your greatest fabrics as you dance the night away, before enjoy a magnificent firework display.

Signed by his royal highness,

Prince Thomas Theseus Minecraft

“He used his full name and everything!”

“Your middle name is Theseus?”

“Your actual last name is Minecraft?”

“Did you actually write this? It’s worded and written so…formally.”

Huffing a bit, Tommy crossed his arms. Fixing his posture, he stood up, tall and proud, as he puffed out his chest. It took everyone every fiber in their bodies to not laugh at the sight of him.

“I can be very formal, thank you very much. I’m not a fucking idiot, I remember the formality lessons the teachers put me through. And I take the offense to that writing comment! Do you know how many attempts it took for me to be able to recreate the stupid fancy font used back at the empire? And another thing-”

Grian playfully hopped on Tommy’s shoulder, startling the younger brother to his usual stance. Ruffling his hair, he assured his brother with a laugh.

“Calm down, Toms. You know that we’re messing with you. You did amazingly. How many more flyers do you have? We’ll set them up in the Hub to be distributed across the main server. It’s been a while since I’ve attended a royal ball, so let’s make it grand!”

Laughing, Tommy had no choice but to agree with Grian. His smile faltered, however, once realization sunk in. The next activity for the group was the campfire. The secrets of his time at the Dream SMP that he kept for over 2 years would finally be revealed.

‘Better late than never to prepare the waterworks’, thought a very nervous Tommy.

#memories in the stars #memories in the stars au #tommyinnit #hermit!tommy au

[problematicfavesareproblematic]

I See You, I Know You- and I’m Not Going Anywhere

You're All I've Ever Wanted, All I Want to Know, part 2

Warnings: SMUT! THERE IS LOTS OF SMUT AHEAD!, oral (fem receiving), p in v sexy sex, shitty fiance of reader being shitty, slurs against the french (frog/froggy), angst, LOADS of feels, infidelity, gene mooning over reader to potentially OOC levels, tiny bit of innocence kink referenced, reader gets chatty when horny, untranslated french (bc it’s Gene’s POV so he wouldn’t think process and translate french in his head (let me know if you want me to add them)), unprotected sex (let’s just pretend there’s no risk, yes?), guilt, lots of potty words.

(My fancast for Peter Kelly is Pablo Schreiber but feel free to ignore it.)

Title(s) come from Duet by Penny and Sparrow and Only You by Matthew Perryman Jones

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It had been a relatively calm day in Schoonderlogt. The day was sunny- cold, but sunny- and everyone was taking advantage of the well-deserved break from the frontlines.

Gene was drinking some of the best coffee he’d had in months while watching a handful of Airborne and Army soldiers play some vaguely ruled interpretation of basketball, his eyes darting every so often towards the table a few yards away where you and the other nurses were casually sterilizing the linens and strips of fabric. 

You looked beautiful- your hair loose and your smile radiant as you laughed and joked with your friends. It wasn’t often that all of the company’s nurses were at the same place at the same time, so when the stars aligned and you got to see each other it never failed to bring you joy that would last for days afterward.

Your eyes caught his, and Gene couldn’t help but smile when you shot him a wink.

The merriment didn’t last much longer for you.

While Gene had been lighting a cigarette, he was dimly aware of another Jeep-load of Army men arriving at the mouth of the courtyard, not really concerned with the new arrivals.

Until you screamed.

When Gene and the other Easy men whipped their heads over towards the sound, he saw that someone- some man- had wrapped their arms around you from behind and lifted you off of your feet, a broad smile on the man’s face as he spun you around bodily.

“Froggy!”

Gene hadn’t realized he’d already gotten up and begun rushing for you until he saw Liebgott sprinting past him with balled fists and a fixed jaw. His blood was cold in his veins, heart thrumming anxiously as he catches sight of your pale face when the man sets you down, quickly turning in the man’s embrace and staring up at the grinning intruder.

Everyone comes to a halt when the man grips your bottom and pulls you into him for a deep kiss.

“Hey, Y/N!” Liebgott shouts, Gene watching with angry confusion as you quickly pull out of the kiss but don’t continue to shove the man away. “This guy bothering you?”

With your cheeks blazing, you offer a smile that doesn't reach your eyes, eyes still wide and flickering between Easy and this stranger.

“No,” you manage to say before the man wraps an arm around your shoulder and pulls you back into him.

“You gonna introduce me, Froggy-girl?”

Gene doesn’t like the way this man is bodily handling you, but what he really doesn’t like is how you seem to be letting him.

You clear your throat before shyly meeting Gene’s eyes.

“Guys, this is Peter Kelly,” you quickly look away from Gene and look to Joe Liebgott. “My fiance.”

You might as well have yanked Gene’s feet from under him.

~

Peter was everything Gene wasn’t: loud and boisterous and gregarious and extroverted, his jovial attitude initially winning over most of the guys.

That approval dissipates the more Peter drinks that night.

For Gene, he’d hated the man instantly. Not only because he was already half in love with you- although that was certainly a contributing factor.

No, Pete lost any respect from Gene the moment he saw the clear hickies hiding just beneath the collar of the man’s shirt. 

One time, when the two of you had been rolling bandages for restocking the soldier’s med-kits, you’d insinuated that Peter had a wandering eye. You hadn’t elaborated, but there had certainly been a tone of sad acceptance in your voice as you’d said it.

Judging by the way your eyes kept lingering on Peter’s throat, Gene knew that you knew exactly what had caused those marks.

It made Gene furious, but for your sake, he kept his seething to a minimum.

You seemed to shrink in on yourself, as if Peter’s presence made you wither from the inside. The more he spoke about you, it was clear to anyone listening that he didn’t respect you. Several times, Peter had referred to your nursing as ‘endearing’, ignoring your reminder that you weren’t doing this as a hobby with a look of faux apology and an admonishment for ‘upsetting your delicate frog-feelings’.

When Guarno had finally taken the bait and asked what all the frog references were about, you’d frowned and excused yourself with a grimace- a glower staining your face when Peter’s arm shoots out to pull you into his lap.

“Well, just look at her face- Doesn’t she look like the poutiest widdle frog?” 

He said this like a praise, Gene’s blood boiling as he watches you glare at a spot on the ground. With a bit of the fire you normally showed, you detangle yourself from his hold and announce that you’re going to refill your canteen- ignoring his childish whine and yelping when he smacks your ass as you leave.

“Also,” Peter says like a secret while hungrily watching you walk away. “Her mama’s second husband was one of those Frenchie types- so sometimes she acts a little spoiled- and all of us used to tell her to stop bein’ so froggy.”

When Peter shoots a wink Gene’s way, Gene gives him a glare before getting up and going the opposite direction you- not wanting to make your life any more difficult than Peter was clearly making it right now.

A little bit later, after Peter and some of the other Army guys invite Easy to join them at their basecamp, Gene overhears you and Peter arguing behind one of the stone buildings.

“I’m basically your husband, how am I supposed to explain to the guys that my girl doesn’t even want me to spend the night with her?”

“Because I know what ‘spending the night’ entails, and that is certainly not happening—”

Gene hears Peter groan, the beer he’d had earlier making him act more immature than before.

“I’m not getting tested. Why can’t you just trust me—?”

“Because you’re not trustworthy!” your voice is shrill, disgust lurking below the surface. “You clearly have been with someone recently, and I refuse to risk my job- my life- because you want to get off.”

Peter scoffs at that, and Gene creeps closer to hear better.

“You’re a nurse, Y/N. it’s not like you’re a medic—”

“Fuck you.”

Gene retreats quickly upon hearing your footsteps, only stopping when he hears a smacking sound. Before he can rush back, he hears you snarl.

“Don’t think you can ever put your hands on me like that ever again- on anyone. Next time, I won’t go easy on you with a slap. Now go away.”

~

With everyone else gone to the Army’s basecamp, Gene joins you in your temporary quarters, where you’re scribbling inventory reports with an angry grip on your pen.

It’s tense- and Gene wonders if you’d somehow known that he’d overheard your spat with Peter earlier. Your shoulders are up by your shoulders, leg bouncing beneath the table as you sit on the seat’s edge.

Gene knows you’re upset, but selfishly he’s upset too and knows he won’t be able to leave you to fester without at least trying to talk to you.

With obvious frustration, you all but throw your finished report towards the pile of completed paperwork by your feet, clearing your throat a few times as you stare at the wall in front of you.

Suddenly you sigh, your head tilting upward as your shoulders slump in defeat.

“Just go ahead and say it, Eugene.”

Gene frowns, staring at the back of your head. “Say what, Y/N—?”

“Whatever you’re trying so hard not to say, I can feel you ruminating all the way from over here.”

He pauses, feeling as if he may be walking into a trap that could make things infinitely worse. 

Screw it.

“You deserve better.”

You scoff sadly, a bitter sound that makes his chest ache in empathy.

“You sure about that?”

“‘Course I am. You deserve someone who doesn’t talk to you like you’re nuthin’. Someone who is kind and good and wants to make you happy—”

“What makes you think that he isn’t all of those things?”

“He’s a pig, Y/N….he is nuthin’ but mean and cruel and you’ve gotta see that—”

“How do you know that I didn’t used to be like him- just like him?”

Now he’s getting angry too, all of his rage from earlier coming back in full force without his permission.

“Stop bein’ contrary jus’ for the sake of it! Jesus, Y/N, you clearly don’t love him, why’re you still married if—?”

You slam down the pen you’ve been tapping aggressively, whirling around to turn the full force of your scowl upon him.

“What makes you think I haven’t tried to end it?!”

Carelessly nudging the chair out of your path, you storm across the room to stand before him and jab your index finger into the center of his chest.

“I hate to break it to you, Eugene, but some women don’t get to change their minds! Some of us could beg until we’re blue in the face and we’ll still be forced to tie ourselves to men who we hate, just because our parents want to reap the benefits of such arrangements!”

Your lip has begun to quiver, eyes shining with unshed tears as you look up at him.

“Some of us don’t get to be happy, don’t get to marry the people we love!”

Guilt makes his stomach feel sour, especially when you bury your face in his shirtfront and bite back a whimper of heartbreak- your breath hot through the layers of clothing as you choke back more cries.

“Hey,” Gene whispers, the anger he’d been feeling sizzling out like a drenched flame. “‘M sorry, Y/N- please don’t cry….”

You allow him to encourage your face away from his chest, taking your face in his hands and brushing the hair out of your face.

You look so defeated, so goddamn hopeless that it almost makes him want to cry, too. 

Unable to bear the sight of you upset for one more moment, Gene interrupts you mid-sob to catch your lips in a reassuring kiss.

It’s rougher than he intended, his desperation to quell your sorrow causing him to pull you into him a bit too quickly and causing your noses to press together uncomfortably for a moment. To his surprise, you don’t make any move to pull away- your hands coming up to grip at the front of his shirt with an anxiousness he hadn’t seen from you in years.

It reminds him of the first time he touched you.

Your lips are slightly trembling as you lean into him to deepen the kiss, and when Gene’s other hand comes up to cup your face he can feel the stick of drying tears on his palm. Seeing how your fiance had possessively gripped your face in his hand earlier had Gene’s blood boiling earlier- the lack of reverence the man had for you painfully clear in the way he spoke to you, the way he seemed to grope at you as if your flesh solely existed for his pleasure.

As if Gene didn't have enough reasons to hate Peter Kelly, the son of a bitch didn’t even appreciate the gift Gene knew you to be.

You were better than any of them, and he was sure that if he were to ask anyone else in Easy they would say the same. And, if the tension between Peter and the rest of the men were anything to go by, the general consensus was that the man didn’t deserve you. How he’d gotten you in the first place was a marvel that Gene couldn’t even begin to fathom.

Right now, all he knew was you, you, you.  

Your hands fisted in his hair offered the most comforting sting of passion, and Gene would be lying if he said that having you so fervent for him didn’t drive him to the brink of insanity. Heightened emotion was something the both of you seemed to have lost throughout this god-awful war, something you’d both had to relinquish in order to survive. 

Any time you showed these sparks of life, Gene felt a warmth in his chest that envied the most golden sunshine.

It reminded him that you were alive and he was alive and there was still a chance for something good to happen after all of this.

All of his thoughts return to you, feeling guilty for reflecting in a moment that demanded- no, deserved all of his attention and gratitude. He could admire you privately after you fell asleep, in his arms.

Right now, he needed to remind you that you were something worthy of worship.  

You whimper against his mouth when he slides his hands up the planes of your back beneath your sweater, breaking away from your lips momentarily to pull the sweater over your head and toss it to the floor. 

“I need you,” you’re whispering, your hands coming to tear at the buttons of his jacket as if it is personally offending you. “I’m so sorry, but I do….Please, Gene! I fucking need you—!”

Gene is quick to shush you, quickly helping you finish divesting him of his jacket so he can swallow your apologies in another toe-curling kiss. Growing up, he’d been taught that marriage was a life-long commitment, that anyone who broke that promise was ungodly or impure.

Of course, he’d also naively believed that people only got married because they were deeply and wholly in love with one another. It wasn’t until he had met you in Toccoa that he’d realized that love sometimes had nothing to do with it, that those sort of things weren't necessarily as clean-cut as he’d been led to believe.

Taking your face in his hands again, he tilts your face up so he can kiss at the warm skin beneath your jaw, liking the way your moan vibrates in your throat as he walks you back to the table you’d been working at and presses your backside against it.  The sound of your open-mouthed panting had him painfully hard already- it’s almost embarrassing how little you have to do to get him like this.

He hadn’t even realized one of your hands had been working at the fastening of his pants until you’ve begun to scratch your nails softly down the skin of his lower stomach, and when his hips jump in surprise he can feel your breath hitch in your throat with heady amusement. When you do it again, he can hear the smile in your exhale.

“Such a perfect cock,” you nearly coo, your touch light as your fingertips brush over the head of him. “Can’t believe how perfect you are….”

You get like this sometimes when you get turned on, Gene has come to learn.- all lust-drunk and babbly as your words switch from thoughtful to stream of consciousness. It’s endearing, so wildly endearing that Gene would go as far as to call this habit cute. 

Cute was the only term you ever showed resistance to, even in jest. Your reaction to the word was so viscerally negative that it had even surprised him- the person who you had frequently insisted knew you the best.

After meeting your fiance and his degrading attempts at ‘praise’, Gene was now able to understand why. 

Your hand was stroking him in earnest now, having used his precum to coat your hand so your movements were smooth and confident. Despite the fact that he’d managed to get your trousers undone and loose around your thighs, Gene hadn’t been able to actually do anything else other than clutch at your hips and gasp into your neck as you rhythmically ruined him.

Normally, this is as far as you two would get- one of you getting the other off with your hands (and sometimes mouths) before someone or something would interrupt the other’s attempt at reciprocation and you’d both have to dive back into your duties to the Company. It was deeply unsatisfying- particularly for Gene because he wasn’t afraid to admit that making you cum wasn’t one of his favorite things to do. Each and every time he didn’t get to return the favor made him feel terribly guilty- like he had somehow exploited your feelings for him.

It made him feel sick. It didn’t matter how many times you insisted that you didn't see it that way, he always was left feeling as if he’d been inexcusably selfish. 

He hated it.

But tonight was different. For once, the two of you weren’t the only medics available for the dozens of men who seemed to have a near-constant stream of injuries and festering wounds. The Army was there with their fourteen medics and nurses and the majority of Easy company had gone to visit their camp in order to mooch some of their beer and US-funded entertainment.

No one would be interrupting his time with you tonight. 

Not even your fiance, who was no doubt dishonoring his vows of fidelity right now.

It didn’t have to stop. He didn’t want it to stop.

“Wait, Minette,” Gene chokes out, reaching down to stop your sinfully-sweet touch before he lost himself in it. “Jus’ wait a second…..”

You make a sound of disappointment in your throat, and when he pulls back enough to look at you he can see a small pout on your lips- as if he’s deprived you of something. The sight makes him feel lightheaded, the implications almost enough to….

Focus, focus.

“You were so close,” your voice holds an undertone of frustration, your other hand attempting to sneak down and finish what the other had started. When he takes that wrist as well, your eyebrows furrow almost comically. “What are you doing, Eugene—?”

You cut yourself off when he suddenly drops to his knees, hands hooking in the waist of your pants and underwear as he does so and shucking them down to your ankles. Your eyes are wide now, cheeks flushed and eyebrows high in surprise.

Keeping his gaze on you, he leans forward enough to press a kiss to your freshly bared thigh. By the time he moves to give the other the same treatment, he can see that your eyes are becoming soft once more.

“I wanna take your boots off,” Gene says as evenly as he can, electricity crackling in his veins at the smell of you. “Can I do that, Y/N?”

At your hurried nod, Gene kisses a ‘good girl’ to your skin quickly before bowing his head to unlace your boots with shaking fingers. He’s thankful for the time it takes him to do so- it gives him the opportunity to get his thoughts together and regain some semblance of control over himself.

Maybe one day he could be impulsive when it came to you, when neither of you had the threat of death hanging over your heads like a heavy cloud.

But now, with each moment commonly understood as having the potential to be your last, Gene couldn’t afford to leave you as anything other than satisfied…..worshipped.

By the time he has your boots removed and one of your legs freed from your trousers, he wants nothing more than to make you come apart beneath him. Because of him.

Looking back up at you, he can see that you’ve unbuttoned your shirt and thrown it open so he can see your nipples harden beneath your once white t-shirt- the weather was far too cold to consider undressing to complete nudity. Your mouth is pink and swollen, shiny from your tongue having recently darted out to wet them.

For a moment, Gene is stuck- too awed by your beauty to risk moving and missing a moment of it. Your heated whisper of his name is the only thing that shakes him free, and he can’t help but lean into your touch when you card a hand through his hair again.

Bringing his rifle-roughened hands to your knees, he purposefully slides them up your thighs until he can rub his thumbs over your hip bones. When he presses on them lightly, you follow his touch and perch yourself on the edge of the table with a quiet curse. The action parts your lower lips slightly, a movement he is quick to chase with his mouth. 

He wastes no time shouldering his way between your thighs, using his hands to guide them over his shoulders as he starts to lick gently at the seam of your sex.

“Fuck,” you whimper, your other hand coming down to scratch lightly at his scalp. “Fuck, Eugene….you don’t have to—ohh!”

Your unnecessary reassurance is lost in a sigh of arousal the moment his thumbs open you up more for him so he can circle the tip of his tongue around your clit before laving it more purposefully. You always tried to reassure him that using his mouth on you wasn’t necessary, clearly not accustomed to having a partner who enjoyed doing so.

Not that Gene was an expert, not by any means.

But, between having mapped out your sex with his fingers and the limited experience he’d had before the war paired with his- er, considerable knowledge of the human anatomy- he knew enough to take out most of the guesswork.

He hasn’t had many opportunities to go down on you- three on the boat ride to England, five times during your time in Alderbourne, twice since dropping into Normandy. You’d dropped to your knees for him far more than that, and now that he had more perspective on what your relationship with Peter had probably entailed Gene was determined to make up for each and every indulgence you’d offered him.

The tremor of your thighs tells him that you’re getting close, and he can tell by the way the muscles of your stomach clench beneath his greedy palm that you’re starting to have a hard time keeping yourself up as you watched him devour you. He hadn’t realized how vigorously he’d been attending to you, too lost in your taste and smell to hear the interspersing chant of his name being showered upon him as praise spilled from your lips once more.

With a groan, brings you to orgasm, refusing to cease his suckling despite the blooming ache in his jaw. It isn’t until your foot raises to press at his shoulder that he allows you to push him away, and he can tell that he’s exhausted you by the way you fall back and writhe while your release works itself through your bloodstream.

“Oh my God, Gene,” you keep repeating, chest jumping with adrenaline. “Why are you….how are you so good?”

He chuckles at that, his cheeks darkening at the praise. Gene watches as your eyes skate down his body to look at his cock, swallowing audibly before looking into his eyes once more. Before he can assure you that he understands if you don’t want to keep going, you carefully sit up and look up at him bashfully, biting the inside of your lower lip and bringing your hand to his cheek.

The look you’re giving him starts to make him nervous. He’s about to ask you what’s wrong when you clear your throat and tell him.

“I...I don’t know if I’m good at it.”

Gene frowns, searching your face for clarification as to what you’re trying to say.

“What’re you mean, ma cherie? What’s got you so worried?”

Your shoulders nearly slump as you sigh, giving him a weak smile as you clear your throat once more. 

“At sex, Gene. I’m worried—I don’t know how to make it good for you...”

With a shake of his head, he brings his crooked index finger under your chin to stop you from hanging your head in embarrassment. You look so lost right now it breaks his heart.

“Minette, you are the best thing to ever happen to me.”

When you open your mouth to rebuke his statement he’s quick to kiss you, using his free hand to bring yours from his cheek to press against the middle of his chest. It takes you a moment, but you do kiss him back, inhaling sharply as he nips carefully at your bottom lip.

Pulling back, Gene traces his thumb over your lips and gives you a soft smile.

“Never worry about me, ‘cause there isn’t a damn thing you could do that wouldn’t make it ‘good for me’.”

You narrow your eyes at that. “I doubt that’s true—”

Gene snorts and shakes his head admonishingly. “Doubt all you want, darlin’. Don’t make any of what I said change one bit.”

You look at him for a bit, eyes softening again and your hand smoothing down his chest with a hum. He thinks you’re going to require further reassurance until he watches as you purposefully part your mouth enough for his thumb to slip between your lips. The sight of you watching him paired with the drag of your tongue along the pad of his finger goes straight to his cock, reminding him of just how hard he’s become.

When you release him with a gentle nip to his fingertip, Gene stares at you in disbelief.

“Jésus Christ, cherie,” he can’t help but murmur. “Vous ne jouez pas juste…”

You tilt your head slightly, clearly aware of what he’s said but seeming to understand the gist of it.

“Show me what you like,” you whisper, scooting your hips to the very edge of the table and brushing your lips against his. “I’ve wanted you for so long….”

Gene kisses you as he slips inside of you, your gasp of pleasure sweet on his tongue. Unprompted, you bring your legs up to find some purchase around his hips and squeak as you take all of him in at once.

Bon Dieu, tu te sens comme le paradis….

You are clutching at him, your hands dancing for the best place to grip him before settling on one arm hooking around his neck and your other hand bracing at his left bicep. It’s an awkward position- probably because neither of you had ever tried to fuck on a table before- so Gene tries to get past the near blinding pressure building in his loins and wraps one of his arms around your hips to slightly adjust the bend in your spine.

“Shit, I’m sorry—!” you being to apologize before he cuts you off.

“Non, non, non, non Minette….just let me try and—”

You both cry out as he suddenly ruts deep, your nails digging into his flesh through his shirts you gape up at him in surprise.

“Oh, oh!”

“‘S that okay?” he grits out, resisting every fiber in his body that is begging for him to piston his hips and just fuck you already. You nod quickly, rolling your hips experimentally and kissing him quickly when he keens before he can stop himself. Gene grits his teeth at the sweetness you’re showing him. You’re just so good. “I’ll stop if it’s—”

“More than okay….do that again- please don’t stop!”

There’s something so…. overwhelming about the way you’re looking at him, with your eyes wide and lips parted. The whimper that comes from the back of your throat at his next thrust combined with your bewildered expression makes you appear so beautifully innocent that Gene momentarily forgets how to breathe. Maybe innocent is the wrong word. 

Honest. Yes, that was it.

It was your honesty that was overwhelming him, the lack of theater in your reactions to him and his touch so genuine and open that he almost didn’t know what to do with himself. Having you- the most glorious creature he’d ever met, would ever meet- gaze at him as if he’s hung the stars in the sky was just so bewitching and unexpected, particularly because of how highly he regarded you.

Your eyes have a glossy look to them, almost as if you were drunk. Rather than the babble he’d anticipated hearing from you, you’ve gone almost silent aside from the sighs and gasps of pleasure that accompany each piston of his hips into your tight velvet heat. Head lolled back, you watch him from under heavy lids while meeting his thrusts with careful pitches of your own, your eyelashes fluttering in response to his punched-out breath washing over your face.

If he didn’t know any better, Gene would say that you had undersold your experience on purpose. You had to know what you were doing to him.

How devastatingly close you were to unmanning him.

“Is it good, Ma Chatounette?” he can hear himself ask, his head already swimming with the initial signs of orgasm. “Am I making you feel good?”

You nod shallowly, mouth opening to reply but no sound coming out. The hand you’ve braced on his arm now has started to claw, and he can feel you tighten around him. 

You’re close, too.

“Please,” you nearly weep, your hips starting to rut against him. “Please please please please—!”

“D'accord,”’ he nods, taking your words as permission to allow his body to chase that fire that’s been burning him alive for quite some time now. “Je te donnerai ce dont tu as besoin, chérie. Je vais le rendre meilleur….”

Gene moans as you allow him to put a hand on your shoulder and press you back so you’re laying back on the table, your back arching sinfully as you mewl for him. Your legs tighten around his waist, and he feels his jaw go slack at the sight of your rolling hips coming to meet him thrust for thrust. You’ve begun to chant his name again, the sheen of sweat on your skin making you look like some carnal divinity sent to him for the sole purpose of ruining him.

And who was he to deny an angel?

Your arms wrap around him as he hunches over to brace his elbows by your shoulders, pressing your hot cheek against his - nibbling at his earlobe as his rhythm becomes punishing.

“Ma ruine, mon ange, je ne veux jamais être sans toi—”

“Come for me- please, please, I’ve never felt so good—”

It’s the catch of his pelvis against your clit that snaps both of you into oblivion, Gene’s vision going white as he clutches at whatever parts of you he can get his hands on, choking on his own breath as the bite of your fingernails adds the perfect amount of pain to his release. He’s aware of you crying out in release, but it’s swirled into the sound of blood racing in his ears as your tightening walls milk him for all he’s worth.

As his vision returns to him, he laboriously removes his head from the curve of your shoulder to look at you, his heart freezing midbeat when he sees tears streaming down your cheeks.

“Y/N?”

You’re shaking your head, hands finding his cheeks to bring his mouth to yours so you can kiss him syrupy-slow, the action throwing him for a loop.

“I’m happy,” you insist between kisses. “It was so good…. I-I don’t know why I’m crying, I’m sorry—”

Gene calms instantly, kissing you back and sighing into your mouth.

He understood what you were trying to say, knew exactly what you were experiencing. It made him stupidly happy that he wasn’t the only one overwhelmed by this….connection you two had.

He’d never had a lover who had reciprocated his feelings so fully. Then again, he’d never felt this with anyone else before, either.

“Don’t be sorry, Minette….I feel it, too.”

It takes the two of you a while, but you do eventually manage to move to the small mattress in the corner of the room, tangling yourselves together beneath the moderate warmth of the blankets and coats you’d scavenged earlier while avoiding Peter.

You must’ve thought he was asleep, because he has a feeling you wouldn’t have dared to say the words aloud.

“I love you,” you whispered against his shoulder in the darkness. “However terrible that makes me, I’m in love with you Eugene Roe.”

Gene is thankful for the pitch-black surrounding you. That way, he can allow himself to smile without fear of you seeing it.

Je suis amoureux de toi depuis des années, (Y/N).  J'ai hâte de te le dire un jour.

But for now, this was enough.

~ ~ ~

(*hides under covers for the rest of the day* OK THANK YOU FOR YOUR TIME THIS HAS BEEN MY FIC DO WITH IT WHAT YOU WILL)

Taglist: @mrseasycompany​ @itswormtrain @mrsalwayswrite​ @happyveday​ @sunsetmando​ @ricksmorty​ @liebgotttme​

#band of brothers imagines #band of brothers x reader #eugene roe x reader #eugene roe imagines #problematicfavesareproblematic

[prurientpuddlejumper]

You’re a Mean One, Mr. Kneef (Part 2)

<- Part 1 | Part 3 ->

For @thatesqcrush​’s Naughty or Nice Holiday Bingo! Filling the Fake Relationship When Visiting Family square. 

Bryan Kneef x Female Reader

Warnings: Language. Holiday fluff. Bryan being the worst... but also hot? Horrible pet names. Nothing nsfw happens this chapter except Bryan’s mouth. 

2,900 words

The bluish LED headlights of Bryan Kneef’s BMW blinded other drivers as they cut through the dark on the drive to his parents’ suburban house. You ascertained from the hands-free call he was making the family hadn’t started dinner yet. Christmas was close to the winter solstice, so it wasn’t as late as the sky suggested, although you’d heard a hungry child screaming impatiently about having to wait for Uncle Bry.

“Uncle Bry,” you teased as the call ended.

He chuckled. “That would be my brother’s kid, Finn. My brother’s name is Timothy. The CEO of LogicFinance. You will say you’ve ‘heard so much about them.’ Let’s review.”

“Jesus.”

Sitting next to Bryan while his attention wasn’t on you, you lost yourself noticing things. The clean smell of his cologne. How sexy he looked—in a rich douchey way—in his tailored suit and expensive car. His long fingers wrapped around the steering wheel. That beard that made you want to scream, “Daddy!”

You could almost forget he was the asshole who held every paralegal at STR Laurie hostage with busywork unless you pretended to be the woman who dumped him. 

Until he started barking at you to memorize facts about his life.

“First, what do I have to know about this woman I’m supposed to be?”

He stared straight ahead at the road. “Her name is Sydney. So you’re Syd from now on.”

“Oh joy. Being called your ex’s name all night won’t be weird or anything.”

“You were the one who wanted to get out of work.”

“Whatever. I bet you already forgot my real name, anyway.”

He didn’t contradict you. The engine roared to life as he changed lanes before signaling and cut off the SUV he’d been tailgating for the last mile.

Your arms crossed over your chest. “How much did you tell your family about Sydney? I hope you didn’t send them any pictures.”

“Not much, and obviously not. I’m not stupid.”

“Just pathetic.”

He scowled. Before he could think of a searing response to take back control of the conversation, you asked another question that knocked him off balance.

“What made this one so different? We’ve been working together for what, a year? And I’ve never seen you upset over a breakup.”

“The sex was fantastic,” he answered too loudly.

“Uh-huh.”

“Oh yeah. I’ve never had a woman who could keep up with me—”

“Because you finish too quickly?”

“Cute. Keep it up.” He stepped on the gas again and your stomach lurched as he pulled off another aggressive passing maneuver in the right lane. “No one walks away from my bed unsatisfied. You could find out. A little reward for helping me out tonight?”

“Not in a million years,” you clipped, shutting him down, even though your wild, lonely, horny side that noticed his beard and fingers was beating at the inside of your skull. “You are going to keep it decent and chaste. Ground rules: holding hands. Kisses on the cheek. Moderate cuddling as the situation calls for it. That should be plenty to sell that we’re involved.”

“You haven’t seen me around women I’m involved with,” he smirked with a suggestive glint in the side of his eye.

“And I’m sure your parents haven’t seen you with a partner who isn’t just some bimbo you’re screwing, either. Cop a feel, and I end the charade right there.”

That comment, which was more insightful than you knew, silenced him. His suggestive side-glance returned forward to focus on the road. That look was back on his face again—the look when he ran out of swaggering bullshit to spew. Sadness. Genuine human sadness.

“She wasn’t clingy,” he said, voice a soft rumble. “Didn’t expect me to be her fucking boyfriend—she was the one who told me no strings.”

“You loved her because she was distant?”

“No. I don’t know. She did nice things, too—like ask how my day was, and bring me coffee. She remembered the way I like it.”

“That’s just basic human kindness, Bryan.” You sighed. “That’s actually… really sad.”

“Fuck you.”

“I mean it. You call women clingy for wanting to be close to you, and now you’re so starved for connection you think remembering your coffee order is a huge deal. Your secretary knows your coffee order. Hell, I know your damned coffee order you’ve sent me out for it enough times, even though—as I often remind you—that’s not my job. I’m sorry. Really. But maybe this is a lesson? That you actually have a heart and might want to try opening it sometime?”

“How the fuck is that the lesson? I open my heart, I get hurt. From now on, I’m only dating broads who disgust me.” His eyes lingered on you for a dangerously long time until you got the point and gave an annoyed grunt. His eyes returned to the road, corners crinkled in satisfaction.

***

Dinner was already starting when Bryan’s BMW finally pulled into the driveway of a large house on a private cul-de-sac. The porch was glowing with tasteful white lights and a wreath on the door. Silhouettes were moving behind the decorative glass set into the front door, waiting for you to get out of the car. As soon as you approached, the door flew open and you were hit with the smell of roast turkey.

“Bry-Bry! We were worried you wouldn’t make it!” His silver-haired mother threw her arms around Bryan’s neck while he grumbled with reluctant affection, hugging her back.

A rich oaken voice of the man who must have been his father said, “And this must be the famous Sydney. We thought we’d never get to meet you.” He shook your hand warmly.

Both of them were wearing hideous red and green Christmas sweaters straight out of a Hallmark movie.

“I can’t believe this one hasn’t driven you away!” Bryan’s mom teased, pinching his pink cheek as she did so. “We’re so happy you put up with our little monster.” She hugged you.

“Come, come on in. Let me take your coat. We were just starting dinner—you’re right on time.” His dad helped you shrug your winter coat off and hung it up in the entryway closet for you.

This was… bizarre. How the hell did people this friendly churn out a Bryan?

More shocking still was when you felt warm, long fingers twine between yours, and you nearly tore your hand away before remembering you had a “boyfriend” tonight. Bryan smiled at you sweetly, eyes soft and affectionate.

Yep. You’d fallen into some kind of Bizarro World.

Martha, his mother, led you both through the spacious house toward the dining room. “What do you think of our humble home?” she asked, pausing in the living room. “I keep thinking I should move that chair to the other side of the fireplace. What do you think? Would it flow better?”

“Uh, I’m not really—”

“Mom! We’re hungry,” Bryan snapped.

“Oh, come on, honey, let me pick her brain! It’s not every day we have an interior designer in here.”

“Bryan told you I’m an interior designer?” Your mouth smiled pleasantly at Bryan while your eyes stabbed daggers into his stupid handsome face.

“Obviously I forgot I mentioned it,” he smiled back.

You batted your eyes. Now the daggers were on fire.

“Well, what do you think? Chair on the left, or the right?”

“Well,” you said, “the symmetry with the fireplace is… balanced with the rich tones in the leather”—Martha nodded along attentively—“You know, I’ve been working all day, maybe we can talk shop later?”

“Oh! Of course! I’m sorry—Bryan’s mean old mom ambushing you the minute you walk in the door!” She flexed her hand into vampire-claws and playfully attacked your shoulder. “Aw, are the stuffy old adults embarrassing you, peanut?”

Bryan’s cheeks turned the brightest pink you had ever seen them. And this was a man who didn’t blush when telling a roomful of attorneys to go fuck themselves. You let out the first genuine laugh you’d made in his presence. You squeezed his hand.

“Honey-bear, I love your parents!”

***

The table was crowded with Kneef siblings, cousins, and their children and spouses. Finn, you guessed, was the youngest boy. And that would make the silver fox next to him Timothy. His older brother had the same bluntness as Bryan, but none of the cruelty. In fact, his entire family was so… normal.

Bryan’s hard edges were hardly softened in their presence, but unlike in the office where his cranky moods inspired fear, here they were met with boos and hisses and his cousin throwing a bread roll at him. The youngest kids mimicked this exciting behavior, and soon it was raining whole-wheat on Bryan Kneef.

You smiled and patted his hand and called him “dear” and made sure your mouth was full of turkey the moment anyone asked you about yourself.

Over the evening, you learned that Mrs. Martha Kneef put herself through nursing school after having her first child to support the family while her husband piddled around with his low-paying hobby in computers. By the time Bryan was born, his father was programming for a growing company, working his way up the ranks—back in the days when one could do that. By the time Bryan was ten, dad was the Chief Information Officer of one of the largest corporations in the country.

And so Bryan, the youngest, grew up with a silver spoon in his mouth, handed all the things his parents had worked hard for in the hopes that he would have a better life.

“All the child-rearing books at the time said encouragement was important,” said Martha, who was a little drunk on red wine at this point. She let out an exasperated groan. “This is what happens when you encourage too much. We created a monster. Didn’t we?” Her voice went higher as she pinched Bryan’s cheek again.

“Martha and I are so happy to see him finally settling down with someone.”

“Yeah, how’d you manage to find a girl who’ll put up with you?” Tim teased, punching Bryan’s arm.

Bryan stared back. Locked eyes with his brother. He took a deep breath. “How’d you manage to—”

Bryan then asked something too obscene to be repeated, which set the entire table screaming, and parents’ hands clamping over children’s ears (though not before an adorable curly-haired niece asked, “mommy, what’s a prolapsed rectum?”).

You should have been offended, or embarrassed to be attached to the guy wrecking Christmas without even needing to be drunk. But oddly, as hot as your cheeks were, you found yourself laughing. You were dating the most interesting guy at the table. He was so overwhelmingly charismatic—not necessarily in a positive way, but in a way that made him the center of attention in any room he walked into. And he was charming enough for people to keep wanting him around, even when he said things that... were probably going to scar those children for life. Not to mention the adults.

Reaching over, you cupped the opposite side of his cheek and forced him to turn his head to you. “You’re so bad, Bry. How do I put up with you?” You began affectionately scratching his beard like it was something you’d done to him a hundred times. “He’s just so cute, I can’t resist. Settle down now, baby.”

His mom gave a loud, “Aww” and Bryan side-eyed his brother, who snorted.

You were getting into it, mussing up his perfect beard in a way that was sure to annoy him later—but it wasn’t annoying him that was on your mind. It was more the feeling of that coarse but soft hair under your fingertips, the shape of his jawline… the way he was staring back at you, eyelids drooping…

“It’s really the beard I’m dating—if he ever shaves, we’re breaking up,” you joked, suddenly needing to crush the romantic mood. It worked. His family laughed, and Bryan scowled, catching your wrist to make you stop.

***

Bryan wanted to leave right after dinner, but his mother wheedled him to stay.

“We’ve still got your bedroom set up if you want to sleep here. Think of it—we could have Christmas morning together just like when you and Timmy were babies!”

“Ma! I couldn’t impose on Syd. She… has a cat.”

Great. More backstory to remember. You surreptitiously elbowed him in the side.

Bryan got his dominating instincts from somewhere, though. The big ask to stay the night was a tactic to make him give in to the smaller ask of staying for hot cocoa and holiday movies.

Bryan had yet to recover from your crack about breaking up with him and forgot to play the part of the affectionate boyfriend. While her husband was explaining the intricacies of a particular wireless security device to whichever cousins would listen, Martha casually sidled up and whispered, “You don’t have to be shy about PDA in front of us old people. We’ve seen everything.”

“Oh! Uh...” Your mouth gaped, unsure how the fuck to respond to that.

Bryan overheard it and rolled his eyes with a groan. “Ma!”

He looked so grumpy and annoyed, something about it made you kiss him on the cheek. Just to put to rest his mother’s suspicions! That must have been it.

Then Bryan was all fire again, his eyes glittering above a wicked smirk. He grabbed your waist and pulled you roughly against his arousingly solid body, covering your neck with wet, open-mouthed kisses. Oh god, hot. He was definitely only doing this to make his mom uncomfortable, and if you knew Bryan, he wouldn’t stop until she regretted meddling or he was fucking you on the stack of presents under the tree. So why was your skin too hot? Why did it prickle everywhere his hand wandered? Palming your curves, sliding down to your hips, lowering over the swell of—

You leaned close until your lips brushed the shell of his ear. “Watch your hands, or HR is hearing all about this,” you warned, then pulled away smiling.

Bryan smiled back. “Of course, babycakes.”

“You lovebirds! Keep it PG.”

He warned you in the car that no one would buy him keeping things chaste, didn’t he? Well, you weren’t going to be the one to blow your cover.

When you filed into the living room where the kids were already watching A Christmas Story, there was only one spot left on the couch, and an empty armchair. Bryan flopped down on the recliner, and you sat on his lap. His chest vibrated as he gave an encouraging growl, cocking an eyebrow at you.

“You didn’t expect me to sit alone, did you, honey-bear?” you cooed.

His hand moved to support your hip, cradling you close to him. The other hand covered yours, which was resting on your knee. It was just a performance, but god, his hands were so big and warm, and the gesture so remarkably soft. You let yourself recline back against his chest, and turned your head to inspect his profile—the greying at his temple, a strong, square brow that shaded such lively green eyes.

A fire danced in the fireplace, stockings hung up neatly above it. A tree in the opposite corner filled the room with a piny balsam scent. The whole scene felt so domestic. Bryan’s beard scratched the side of your face, the soft cashmere of the sweater he’d thrown on over his dress shirt making him a comfortable cuddle partner. Suddenly you could imagine perfectly well why someone might put up with him.

“So, Sydney, how did you meet Bryan?” his father asked. A few other prying relatives leaned forward, and you began to sweat.

“Oh… I’m sure Bryan’s already told this story,” you deflected, glancing at him for assistance. Bryan frowned.

“It was through a case.” His evasive answer only made everyone more curious.

“What kind of case?”

“A divorce case.”

A bark of laughter leaped from your throat before you could hold it in, and you had to quickly disguise it as the kind of nostalgic laugh you get from an inside joke. “It’s true”—you stroked Bryan’s beard—“I think he only slept with me as part of the victory, you know? Took my ex’s money, took his wife. You know our Bryan,” you giggled. You would bet money that was exactly how it happened, too. “It’s a major rebound for me. But it’s been working out. Bryan has this whole other side to him that people don’t see.”

He looked at you. The clarity of his green eyes caught you off guard, and you felt a burning heat creeping up the side of your neck toward your ears.

“Well, we’re so happy to meet you!”

“You dog, Bry.”

“Want to see baby pictures?”

The last voice was Martha’s.

“No.” Bryan said. “She doesn’t.”

Of your asshole boss? Why yes. Yes, you did.

“He used to be such a sweet little peanut.” His mother always seemed eager to stir trouble for her brat of a son. “Just wait until you see how cute he was in diapers.”

“No!” Bryan groaned, but couldn’t stop you from following Martha to the family photo albums.

He had no power here.

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •

Tagged: @beccabarba​ / @caked-crusader​ / @itsjustmyfantasyroom​ / @thatesqcrush​ / @dianilaws​ / @permanentlydizzy​ / @mrsrafaelbarba​ / @madamsnape921​ / @astrangegirlsmind​ / @neely1177​ / @onerestein​ / @welcometothemadxxhouse​ / @stardust-fray​ / @dreila03​ / @tropes-and-tales​ / @the-baby-bookworm​ / @ireadfanfictionontheweekends​ 

(I also just tagged everyone who commented/reblogged the last chapter even if u didn’t ask so uhhh >_> lmk if you hate that?)

#Bryan Kneef #bryan kneef x reader #Raúl Esparza #raul esparza #thatesqcrush holiday bingo #moodboard #The Good Fight #My writing

[sparrowmoore-archive]

jesus you’ve got better lips than judas ; i could keep your bed warm , otherwise i’m useless .

                 𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐊 𝟎𝟎𝟐 : 𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐑𝐄 .

ORIGINS & FAMILY:

Full Name: Sparrow Nicolette Moore

Reason for name: Like Josiah, their mother chose their names -- ‘Sparrow’ is the symbol of freedom and direction which is what they always hoped for, a biblical symbolism of the worth of God. ��Nicolette’ meaning people of victory. 

Nickname(s): Bird (Marcos), various profanities by Josiah. 

Date of Birth: May 2nd, 1995

Age: 26

Gender + Pronouns: Non-binary + They/Them

Place of birth: Roswell, New Mexico

Parents: Oliver moore & Laurel moore ( née abrams )

Siblings: Josiah Moore, Jade Moore, Rowan Moore & Wyatt Moore. 

Relationship with family: There’s a bitterness towards Sparrow’s siblings that’s perhaps unfounded. They hate that success never found them when it graced some of the others, sickeningly jealous that they were forced back to Roswell against their will. Despite this, Sparrow is closest with their twin brother Josiah and their older sister Jade, with the other two brothers currently in the bad books for ever leaving. 

Pets: None

PHYSICAL:

Height: 5′7″

Build: Slim

Nationality: American

Ethnicity: White

Distinguishing Facial Features: Large, round brown eyes + sharp jawline. 

Hair Color: Bleached blonde + tinted pink. 

Usual Hair Style: Either natural or scraped back into a messy bun; nothing fancy. 

Eye Color: Brown

Complexion: Deathly pale, Sparrow doesn’t enjoy the outside. 

Disabilities: None

What do they consider their best feature?: Their hair; it’s their pride and joy, even if most of the time it resembles scraggly strands of straw. 

Worst they’ve ever been injured: Grazed by a bullet against their right arm running from the gunfight that nearly killed their boyfriend. There’s still a slight scar, but they’d never admit it.

APPEARANCE:

Favorite outfit: Oversized plaid shirt, cropped shorts, fishnet stockings + Doc Marten boots.

Glasses? Contacts?: n/a.

Personal Hygiene: Sparrow showers whenever they can wrestle the bathroom from one of the other Moore’s. 

Jewelry? Tattoos? Piercings?: Multiple ear piercings, nostril piercing. A scattering of tattoos, mostly across their hands, dealt to themselves with a sewing needle and Indian ink. 

What does their voice sound like?: Deep, monotone. 

Style of speech (loud, mumbler, articulate, etc.): Sparrow’s volume is marginally below a shout, loud and articulate, unwavering. 

Accent?: Southern, born from New Mexico and intensified through years in Texas.

Unique mannerisms/physical habits: Sparrow bites their nails incessantly, which is a nasty habit ( although it’s one they’d never dare break ) .

Left handed or right?: Left handed.

Do they work out/exercise?: Not at all. They’d be seen dead before they were seen in workout gear.

BELIEFS & INTELLECT:

Known Languages: English

Zodiac: Taurus

Gifts/talents: Sparrow has a talent for coming up with the rudest, most obscure insults and pet names. They are also an amazing shot when it comes to firearms.

Religious stance: Raised in a religious Jewish/Catholic household; practices neither. 

Political stance: Apathetic. 

Pet peeves: Can I say everything? Sparrow has a very low tolerance for bullshit. 

Optimist or pessimist: Pessimist

Extrovert or introvert: Introvert

INTIMACY & RELATIONSHPS:

Relationship status: It’s complicated

Sexual orientation: Bisexual

Ideal mate/qualities they look for in mate: A protector, someone to keep them safe from the harm of the world. They like to feel like somebody has their back. Physically, they are attracted to the tall, dark and handsome type.

Ever been in love?: Once, and never again. They’ve sworn off love.

What’s their love language?: Sparrow isn’t sure. The only love they ever experienced was the toxic kind. 

Most important person in their life?: Josiah Moore.

VOCATION:

Level of education: High School Diploma ( barely ) .

Profession: Radio Host at Rocket.FM

Past occupations: Waiter at Pizza Planet, Gang Member. 

Dream occupation: Author or an artist; anything creative. 

Passions: Nineties music, writing lyrics, their family, grunge fashion.

Attitude towards current job: Sparrow loves their job, although they wish it could sustain them enough to move out and get their own trailer or, in an ideal world, a real apartment, even if it was in Greystone of all places. 

Spender or Saver? Why?: Spender. Sparrow still isn’t used to not having unlimited funds, and is used to blowing hundreds on new clothes, booze and whatever the hell they want. It’s been quite a steep learning curve, but they’re slowly adjusting. 

Which is more important – money or doing something they love?: Something they love, every time. 

SECRETS:

Phobias: N/A

Life goals: To own a house, with windows and a white picket fence ( and maybe to have somebody to share that with ) . 

Greatest fears: Losing someone they love, anything happening to their siblings. 

Most embarrassing thing ever to happen to him/her: In Kindergarten Josiah pulled down their pants in front of the entire class so all the kids saw their bare butt. Sparrow vowed never to be that humiliated again. 

Something they’ve never told anyone: They wished it was them that was hurt back in Texas, as that would mean they wouldn’t have to come home. 

Biggest regret: Abandoning Marcos. 

Police/Criminal/Legal record: Messy, but they’re across state lines now and hopefully remain anonymous. There are a few petty charges of vandalism, trespassing and being drunk and disorderly, but they were never charged with anything severe. That doesn’t mean they weren’t guilty of it.

Vices: Smoking - Sparrow has a rather nasty nicotine addiction. 

PREFERENCES:

Hobbies: Street art, listening to nineties music, dying their hair. 

Favorite color: Pink

Favorite smell: Wet paint, gasoline, burning. 

Favorite food: Breakfast burritos

Favorite book: The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath

Favorite movie: Pulp Fiction

Favorite song: Smells Like Teen Spirit - Nirvana

Coffee or tea?: Coffee

Favorite type of weather: Grey, overcast, bleak - just like their personality really. 

Most prized possession: A sweater which belonged to Marcos, which still holds a hint of his cologne. 

Most used word or phrase?: Fuck

#roswelltask

[theotheroccassionalfanficwriter]

Most Beloved Demon

Summary: It all started with a simple chat. A mere idle thought you had about one of the human customs in matchmaking that you shared in with the rest of the brothers because you were once again scheming to have another date with Mammon. And then you had to make another group chat without him because God, Jesus, and Mary showed you the way and it was a birthday party extravaganza for Mammon.

Tags: Galaxy Brained Reader, Oblivious Mammon, Idiots in Love, Happy Birthday Mammon, Sweets, Reader is Horny for Mammon, Kissing as a distraction

Rating: Rated E for explicit cock sucking and fucking at a dark alleyway

A/N: A late birthday fic for Mammon because I’ve just finished prelims for law school and boy am I worried

--

It had started, like with all things that shook the House of Lamentation, at a fine peaceful day. You were lounging in your room, feeling slightly neglected that Mammon wasn’t cuddling with you which meant that you couldn’t accidentally brush against his cock while cuddling or send him a signal that you were totally down to be fucked by him anytime anywhere. You’ve exhausted all means of entertainment, you were done doing your Diavolo-sanctioned prank on Lucifer, exhausted  Asmo’s patience on your Mammon-less day, taunted Belphie on his apparent failure to keep you dead, entertained yourself by treating Beel as a food disposal unit and conducting “science experiments”, teaching Satan about human curses, and of course harassed Levi’s in-game character and made him drop 20 levels because he talked shit about your in-game wifey who was Mammon. Not that he knew.

Which meant that you were so bored, and there was no Mammon who could distract you, or you could seduce to a very fun and sexy game of strip billiards. Which ultimately meant you’d either have to trek to the Castle and bother Diavolo to play with you or go over at the Purgatory Hall and rope Solomon into revealing if Merlin is real. In the middle of your contemplation, your phone vibrated and a quick glance at it showed Barbatos’ message which read:

It would be more fruitful if you remained where you are.

You blinked and obediently shelved your plan of bothering Solomon and instead sent a message to the group chat:

🐑 : You know, in the human world in one culture birth dates are a great way of measuring compatibility between two people

You sat back and waited for everyone’s reply. Then the messages came flooding in and you smirked in satisfaction as you saw Mammon take the bait you’ve dangled, you idly watched them bicker, pouring gasoline whenever or dousing it water. Your laptop was ready to calculate and the moment Asmo shared his birthday you brought out the results and gleefully watched the mayhem about to ensue.

🐑 : Amazing! Asmo we have an 88% Compatibility~!

Sure enough, Asmo would never miss out a chance to mess with everyone else and so the two of you were able to successfully get everyone to do the compatibility test with you. The moment Mammon gave you his birthday you had foolishly remained oblivious to the date. Mind still focusing on the compatibility rate.

🐑 : Mammon~ We’ve got the highest compatibility rate~! 91%! 

🐑 : By the way the method I used is the one for calculating marriage compatibility.

And then you glanced back to the calculator and registered the date he had given. 

“September 10?” You mumbled as you glanced at the calendar and then back to Mammon’s apparent birthday.

Your eyes widened in realization just as the door to your room slammed open and your very cute and most beloved demon came in with a wild blush on his face. You blinked at his winter outfit and then decided that Devildom was much to cold for your delicate human body. Mammon, who was attuned to the ebb and flow of your libido made quick work of his and your clothes and the two of you wrestled under the sheets.

After 10 rounds of you alternating between begging Mammon to cum inside you and asking to suck his dick, you were giving him sweet and lazy kisses on his neck, giving him hickeys all the while engaging in your shared favorite hobby cock warming. Mammon had been flustered, at the start, with how into his kinks you were up until he realized that you were really just into him and made him melt.

Now he was used and utterly spoiled with your clingy disposition after sex. He would give you sweet kisses or alternate with teasing you a little bit and letting you decide if you wanted to go for another round. Right now though, his mind was preoccupied with the words that you had said. Mammon might have just been dating you for less than a year but even so he already knew you like the back of his hand.

So he definitely knew that you had some sort of ulterior motive for bringing that part with the marriage. And Mammon wasn’t sure if he wanted you to be like that to him. He knew himself and he knew that if you were really willing to enter into marriage with him...that there was no way he’d let you get away and neither would you let him. Mammon had already seen the depths of your love for him, had come to accept that you would always hold him above all.

And the best and worst of it was that he was the same.

“What are you thinking about?” You asked him voice soft and hoarse.

Mammon smirked as he remembered how you looked utterly bliss out after having your mouth fucked. He shifts and you moan as you end up beneath him. You feel his cum drip from your pussy and looked at him in anticipation.

“Ya really are a slut for me” Mammon teased you, thrusting into you a little bit.

“It’s because I love you...” You encircled your arms on his neck and tug him down for a sweet kiss. You smile as Mammon begins another round of sex, he fucks you languidly, enjoying this moment where the two of you simple enjoyed existing. Whispering sweet words of love and the knowledge that both of you had found each other.

When all is said and done, you spooned him, holding him tight and close to your chest and he holds you equally tight and tells you,

“...I want to spend my birthday with you...”

“As you wish” You kissed him good night.

-

In extreme contrast with your passionate and gentle night of slumber with Mammon was the birthday plan meeting you were currently holding secretly. You had, in very character of you, used one of the favors Barbatos owed you to have him send Mammon on an errand that would last long enough for all of you to plan his birthday.

Lucifer had shot down all your suggestions of gifting Mammon a Casino, a Mansion and Villa in the human realm, buying him a gold mine, and gifting him a civil registry that listed him as your husband in devildom and the human realm.

Satan had, in a rare moment of cooperation with Lucifer, also shot down all your party suggestions of champagne towers, booking the entire Ristorante Six, Booking the entire Fall, and giving Mammon a surprise wedding.

All of you had eventually decided to just give Mammon a sentimental and heartfelt gift of experience. With a strict order from Lucifer to not let you pick a stationary set that was used for weddings.

Which meant that you had made plans with them to buy it two days later, when you knew that Mammon had a photo shoot and thus you had no date with him scheduled that day. And because your Father-in-Law was still holding a grudge over that time you beat him up at the Mcdonald’s back parking lot, Mammon’s shoot got rescheduled and you ended up bumping to him just when you, Asmo, and Satan had bought the supplies.

“...Why?” He asked looking hurt and dejected that you had turned him down to spend time with Asmo and Satan.

“It’s now what you think!” You hurriedly replied.

“Hey, don’t sound like a husband that just got caught” Satan frowned as he stealthily hid the paper bag that held the stationary set and golden wax seal the three of you had bought.

“Satan’s right you know?” Asmo chimed, “The three of us were just window shopping.”

Asmo signaled you to distract Mammon and you nodded. So in a moment of sheer brilliance you led Mammon to a darkened and secluded alleyway. Pushed him in the wall and kissed him deeply before he could protest. All of his anger and hurt melted away as you fervently kissed him, one of your hand palming on his cock as you twined your tongue with his. 

You stop and let Mammon see the sloppy evidence of the make out session you had just initiated. Far more filthy and intense than your accidentally on purpose mistake of fumbling the seduction spell during the exam.

“I’m not going to forgive you so easily!”

You said nothing to that and instead dropped to your knees as your finger traced the seam of his zipper. Mammon cursed and muttered an invisibility and warding spell. You unzipped his pants with your teeth, kissing his hardened cock through the fabric of his brief. You glanced at him and smiled at him devilishly before you took his cock into your mouth and began giving him the best blow job of his entire demonic and angelic life combined.

You, who was always horny on main for your demon boyfriend, was giving it your all in sucking his dick putting into good use all the techniques your succubi and incubi friends had given you. Your alternated between deep throating yourself with his thick and long cock and giving him a hand job as your tongue licked his balls and then his cock. You enjoyed the thick veins on Mammon’s dick along with the undeniable blunt ridges that you had grown familiar with. 

“Fuck!” Mammon cursed as he decided he had enough of your teasing and fucked your mouth, dirty talk falling easily out of his mouth as he praised you, “You’re always such a slut for my dick aren’t ya? look at you turning your mouth into a pussy for me to use any time I want.”

You tried to convey your pleasure with your eyes, agreeing with everything Mammon said and that had only served to increase his pleasure. He took great joy at seeing you on your knees and begging him with your eyes as you lost your self to heat and lust. Hands gripping on Mammon’s clothes, your mouth and his cock making lewd noises as your saliva dripped on the corners of your mouth.

Mammon took out his cock from your mouth and you whined at the lost, his hand still gripping your hair and you were looking at him with a betrayed look while his free hand was pumping his dick.

“Mammon~”

“You really want me to make you swallow or do you want me to fuck you here in this alley for as long as I want?”

You blinked and looked at him with a dazed look, Mammon’s smirk growing wide as he let your hair go and watched you unzip your mini shorts, letting it drop to the ground and presenting your enticing hole to Mammon.

“What a good slut” Mammon praised you as he used his wet dick and spit as lube before teasing your opening. 

“Ma-nnn..darling! I want your dick in me already!” You cried softly as Mammon teased you while you could only look longingly at his erect dick and let your mouth water.

“Then say the magic words” He teased you as he bit you on your neck.

“Please breed this good and obedient slut with your thick and lovely seed!” You begged him in between moans and shudders of pleasure that went through your body. Mammon stuttered for a moment before he regained his wits and did as you asked.

His cock entered you easily, “Your hole really was meant to take my cock” he let you get used to the feeling before he began moving slowly, watching the soft jiggling of your chest with each thrust he made. His hands were holding both of your wrists you could only moan as Mammon ruthlessly grazed your spot with his hard dick.

“If anyone could see you right now they’d think you were getting paid for this,” Mammon grinned darkly, “But then again, you were only ever a slut for me aren’t you? Opening your legs for me anytime I ask, easily taking my cock into your mouth.”

“I-it’s becau-! I love you!” You panted as you felt Mammon hit your spot.

Mammon knew you loved him but it really was different hearing how you were only like this because you loved him. He smiled at you and sweetly kissed you on your mouth as he carried you in his arms. 

“Ma--” You cut off by his dick thrusting in you deeper. You were vaguely aware that your shorts had already slipped off your leg and your underwear was already ruined.

“I love you too” Mammon said as he vigorously fucked your hole and you could only hold on tightly on his shoulders as you stopped bothering to lower your voice. 

The sounds of wet flesh slapping, along with your lustful moans filled the darkened alley. You weren’t aware of the passage of time, nor did you care about the fact that there were often footsteps that would stop at the mouth of the alley. All you cared about was the feeling of Mammon fucking you and the undeniable smell of his come covering your body.

All your clothes had ended up on the ground, you were naked while Mammon still had his clothes on, not that you mind since there was something erotic about the picture it presented to any voyeur that was brave enough to risk Mammon’s ire. Your legs had grown weak after the 15th round and you were only dazedly looking at air as Mammon fucked you from behind, his previous comes dripping down your hole and between your legs. Some had formed a puddle directly on the ground beneath your hole.

Your neck and shoulders were filled with love bites, and most of your skin was sticky with dried cum. You felt Mammon slow down on his thrust and then the familiar wet heat of his cum filled your inside.

You looked at him in question, watching him observe his masterful lewd work that was you.

“Already?” You asked him slightly frowning.

Mammon only looked at you helplessly fond and doting before he began to dress you up, fingers teasing your overstimulated nerves but keeping it at that, “We still need to go home in time for the curfew.”

You pouted but nonetheless let him do as he pleased, though you did squirm a little bit as he zip up your shorts and teasing you once more by rubbing his hand on your crotch through the fabric.

Soaking the crotch are with the mixture of his and your cum. You whined at him, “Can’t we continue at a love hotel?”

Mammon said nothing beyond a teasing smile as he lad you out of the alley, you were limping slightly as you leaned completely on his side and steadfastly ignored the looks the demons were giving you nor did you pay any mind on the undeniable dribble of cum that was between your legs.

What mattered was that Mammon had forgotten about the events earlier and you were getting railed again once both of you got home.

--

The next morning you woke up on Mammon’s arms and experienced the feeling of being a pampered wife who got railed so good. Mammon had sat you on his lap and fed you as you weakly laid on his chest and ignored the judgmental looks Lucifer was giving you. Chances were, he had already found out about the semi-public sex you and Mammon did. 

But you were well-fed and satiated so you put it on the back of your mind as you planned to get things done for Mammon’s surprise. So the time you spent away from Mammon, physically since you were sending him sexy pics and basically having sext with him, was allotted for writing the letters for him. Special ones that would last for years even when you would no longer be alive.

You carefully wrote each letter and made sure that in each and everyone of it had all your overflowing love for him. You wrote him a letter for every conceivable event that you could thought of, until it went from emotions he would feel into situations he would get in until it became for his everyday life.

With each letter you wrote, you couldn’t help but be envious of the people he’d get to meet after you were gone. The selfish part of you that wanted to remain inside his heart for as long as he lived. You could only sigh at your helplessness, there was no guarantee that you would live forever and that you could be with him till he died.

You didn’t know if he would remember you clearly or slowly fade away from his memories. So you decided to give him this indelible words that carried your most fervent wish of being able to stay by his side for eternity.

You wrote and wrote, pouring all of the words that you could never say and to cowardly to speak aloud and instead let it hang on the air. In between the moments when Mammon would catch your eye and you’d look at him and see his love that overflows, in the brief moments of silence where you would hold onto him tightly afraid of him leaving you, in those dark days that you almost lost him and still foolishly unaware that you had come to love him.

The words you kept inside you flowed from your heart and mind and into the tips of your fingers, as you wrote page after page of love letters for Mammon. You let the papers dry and lovingly folded it into the golden envelopes and sealed it with a red wax seal that held your initials.

You placed it inside your jewelry box and hid it. 

The door to your room opened and you turned around, seeing Mammon you couldn’t help but smile widely as you called for his name.

You rushed to hug him and Mammon peppered your face with kisses. You let yourself soak up the warmth of his love and decided to no longer think of the distant future that you feared the most.

--

Mammon had always known that you loved him the most in the entire world. It was hard not to, when you were always out rightly favoring him, always treating him so much better than the others and you would always tell it to him. There was no room for doubt when it came to your love. 

And Mammon loved you as well, your flaws and everything because it was what made you human. You weren’t a saint or a holy mother, he didn’t care about your cruel streak that only ever existed in defense of him and his brothers nor did he mind the days you would stick to him relentlessly as if you were afraid he would be gone. He didn’t mind your moments of jealousy, the instances when you’d cut someone with your words.

You had left a mark on his heart that would never fade away, you had made him yours in the way no one would be able to do so. He smiled at the pieces of memory you had left him, proof of your existence in a world that changed much too fast and much too slow for someone like him.

Your bones had withered and turned into dust, you were no longer by his side, all three realms was co-existing peacefully, you lasted long enough to see Diavolo’s dreams to bear fruit, you stayed long enough to hold your great grand children in your arms but even so it still wasn’t enough for him. His greedy heart that was only ever content with you in his arms. But even so Mammon could still remember your voice, the inflections on the words you spoke, the way your eyes glittered with happiness upon seeing his face.

He looked at the wrinkled and yellowed letter you had left him. The last among the letters you wrote for him since the first birthday you had celebrated with him. -

Dear Mammon,

If you’re reading this letter then that would mean I’m no longer by your side. Somehow even with the centuries I’ve spent with you, the thought that I am no longer by your side still makes me cry. You’ve influenced me too much that I became greedy of you. 

Have you eaten yet? Are you sleeping well? Are you taking care of yourself?

Don’t mope around anymore, by time you reached this letter centuries would have passed since I died. I know I said I can’t accept you having someone else after me and I was happy that you went along with my selfish wish but even so...I don’t want you to miss out on another great love. I’m already happy with all the years you’ve given me even if it was just a fraction of what you lived and you will live.

I’m really scared that you’d forget me easily and I still want to live longer and be by your side I love you so much that I’m afraid what would happen to you once I’m gone. Mammon, my most beloved demon, I’m sorry I had to leave you first. But even so I’m selfishly happy that I would never know what a world without you would be. I’m weak and cowardly even so you loved this part of me that desperately held onto you, you loved me even if you knew that between the two of us I’ve forgotten how to live without you.

I knew you like the back of my hand, so familiar and foreign at the same time. In all the years I’ve spent writing you letters filled with words that I could never say aloud, I’ve come to accept that I only knew of love because of you. It’s a scary thought, knowing that if I hadn’t meet you...I wouldn’t have given love a chance. I would have live my years not knowing the warmth of your embrace or peace that your presence brought to me. 

Thank you for giving me a family that I love and loves me in return, I was so happy when I bore you our third child. Do you remember? I cried that time because he looked so much liked you, he had your eyes and your nose, and then he had your laugh and smile. Our eldest daughter was so happy then, finally having a human passing brother. Number 2 was so pouty that day but even so I was happy with our little family.

There’s a lot of things I want to write to you in this final letter but my hands are already shaking. Our Little Ds of Greed are scampering around right now while I’m writing this. I can’t help but laugh a little bit, my heart feels a bit sour. You’re sleeping soundly right now by my side and I love you so much, that even if my lungs hurt and my body aches so much I want to spend the last moments of my life telling you how much I love you.

I love your smile. I love your laugh. I love the way you’d get into trouble and come to me for help. I love the days you’d let me chase away your nightmares. I love how you patiently waited for me to return to your side. I love how you always tell me you love in the little ways. I love how you never let me wake up in a cold empty bed. I love you. I love you from the moment you ran towards me. I love you until now.

I love you in this life, and if there is a next life for me, I’ll love you there as well. I love you in every world there is that I exist with you. I love you in all infinite possibilities of this universe and the next.

I love you, my Mammon. And I will begone but even if I am no longer by your side I would still love you. I would love you even if my mind and heart forgets because whatever it was that our souls are made of, yours and mine are the same.

So live well and fall in love with the world again, my cherished and inevitable downfall.

Yours in Eden.

#mammon x reader #obey me mammon x reader #mammon x mc #obey me mammon x mc #mammon #obey me

[queenofwerewolves]

Future Hope

chapter one - Where it all began.

We all thought the new decade would be a new fresh start, a new beginning for humanity, we were all so excited for the the arrival of 2020... and it's unknown horrors that we awaited along with it.

it started with just jokes and memes, the virus wasnt affecting us, it didnt seem like a big deal. Then it reached Italy, then the United States. In a span of three months, the entire world changed and was affected by COVID-19. Then it happened.. the attack and sudden uprising of those who had privilege, but didnt know of it's power..

it started with the Black Lives Matter Protests, but it got worst, so unhumaningly worse. People around the country and the world tried to help and stop this evil, but it wasnt enough to stop them. The White Suprimacy.

Death, despair, anguish, loss for hope... What has the world come to?

Even after two years of the incident, in the year of 2022, the same horrors from before was still going on. No one could stop them, those who tried were imprisioned or now buried six feet under, people gave up, they lost hope... Until a new reason for that hope arrived.

It started as a friendship group. Eight people of different kinds, intetrests and hobbies brought together by a common interest, which soon grew into an unbreakable bond, sharing pictures or tagging one another with a funny meme attached to it, simple acts but filled with love.. Until this group almost lost a member.

A fight was happening while she was visiting a store, it was between a simple teen wearing a pride shirt and a middle aged man, bickering and arguing issued, but no one expected the man to pull out a gun and attempt to shoot the kid... Only to miss, and shoot the beloved group friend...

She was texting her friends while it happened, only for them to not hear anything for weeks... But she finally replied, after weeks in the hospital, recovering from the shot. One of the members couldnt have it anymore, and kindly asked for everyone to create a Discord account so they could all see how their wounded friend was doing. Everyone agreed, and surprised her with a call.

Maria was her name, and she couldnt be more delighted about the surprise..

"Yo! Yooo Bitch can you see us?!" Shouted one friend from their call

"For fuck's sake Spike the woman was shot and you have to call her a bitch?!" Rudely replied another friend, who's background was dark and gloomy and had far too many halloween decorations.

Maria laughed softly. "It's OK Spooks.. Wow.. I cant believe Im seeing you all.. Just wished it wasnt at the hospital through a videochat..." She said with a soft smile.

"It is truly a concerning situation we've been dragged into.. but it brings me joy to see you alive and well Maria" Said another friend, looking a little too-well dressed in the call

"Im guessing Griff begged you all to make a Discord huh..?" Maria said, looking at the video box of young man with a concerned yet and embarrassed look.

"Queen... We were so worried..." He answered, slightly choked up. "We thought you were a goner.. When you finally texted back I..I just had to see you..!"

Queen. A nickname she never thought someone would ever call her, hell it was a title that she didnt even deserve. Until she met Griff, which started to call her that, and her other friends jumped along, she always loved that nickname.. Made her feel special...

"Seeing you all together... All for me... It makes me want to cry.. But we dont have time for me getting emocional" Maria answered, suddenly stern

"Why is that Queen? Something going on?" Answered another friend, who was sucking on a lollipop during the call, such the sweet tooth she is.

Maria smiled. "No Muffin.. I simply have a proposal for you all.. And I hope you all are in with me...Because Im getting pretty sick of the way things are in this shit world.."

And so was born a new hope, a group of fighters that are indignified about the way things are, and how they almost took their friend away.

After healing completly at the hospital, they all met in person for the first time. Maria told them that they way they are now wont be enough to make a change to the world, but she knew how to fix that. After a small walk through the woods in the park, they came through a gated area, which Maria crawled under a broken spot of the gate and the others followed, doing the same.

"Long ago" Maria started speaking. "After I moved here, I decided to explore around this park for fun. That's when I found this abandoned gate and went through the same broken piece of wall of the gate we all came through, I believe that's here can help us become better then we already are."

Spike, chewing a piece of gum sneered at her comment. "Oh sure, what is it? A wishing well?"

"Well..." She answered as they came to a stop.

In front of them was a perfectly clean, almost sparkling fountain with clean crystal water still working and flowing out of an angel's vase. The fountain was too bright and shiny, it sure as hell didnt match the rest of the area's gloomy and dark visuals..

"It's a wishing fountain!" Maria spouted out, smiling wide. But the rest werent as.. cheery as she was.

"A fucking... wishing fountain?" Spike answered. "You expect me to believe that's a real wishing fountain? If that's true then why dont you wish for this shit world to become better?"

"I tried!" Maria answered "Apperently it doesnt make big wishes like that, it only makes wishes about yourself or something very small. Like wishing your room to be clean kind of small"

"I mean.. It kinda has that magic aesthetic, I mean, that thing is impeccably clean while the rest is covered in dirt?" Kip answered, glancing at the fountain.

"I know it sounds silly but it really works, I actually did my wish already!" Maria said smiling wide

"Bullshit" Spike answered "You aint a fucking Werewolf, what makes you think we believe you actually wished to be one?"

".. Cause I didnt wished to be a Werewolf..?" Maria answered, dumbfounded. "I always said that I LIKE Werewolves, but I never wanted to be one. I wished to be good at using a scythe and knife throwing, like exceptionally good ya know?" She said excitedly. "And before you answer, YES I do have a scythe, I bought one. Dont ask where."

"So... who goes first?" The smollest of the group, Rook, asked.

"I'll go" Said Griff, pulling out a coin before Maria stopped in this tracks. "This.. Doesnt accept coins" Maria said, seeming a bit worried.

"Then what?" Griff answered back, only to shocked when Maria answered "Blood".

Before Spike could throw a fit, Maria cut him. "Just a drop! Literally! I got a needle here with me, all you gotta do is prick your hand and let the drip fall after you make a wish."

"Let's just get on with it before Spike goes crazy again" Said Blink, the tallest of the group and the one to deal with Spike's bullcrap

Griff took Maria's needle and stood in front of the fountain...And said outloud his wish..

At first he whispered his wish, as if he didnt want anyone to hear it.

"Uh.. It has to be out loud or it wont work Griff." Maria said.

"I-I said.. I wish to be a strong, masculine and really beefy Wererabbit that's really manly and buffed up!!" he shouted with a tone of embarrassment in his voice.

"A Werebunny.. Griffy?" Said Maria in disbelief. "What?! It's co- ow!!" Without looking, he pricked his hand with the needle, and let the drop of blood fall into the fountain's water, mixing along with it. The fountain suddenly shined so brightly that everyone had to cover their eyes for a brief moment before it died out.

Then.. Silence.

"... So.. Now wh-AHCK!!!" Shouted Griff, hit with a sudden shot of pain throughout his body, which made him fall on his knees as everyone backed away from him. They watched in horror as not only he grew almost three times his size, but he got much fuzzier, his ears stretched into rabbit ears, his muscles swelled and bubbled as they grew bigger, his body shifted painfully into a hybrid between man and rabbit. When he finally finished, he just collapsed on the floor, panting exaustedly.

His friends were inicially shocked, until Maria snapped out of it and rushed to his side, placing a hand on his head. "Griffy? You OK..?"

He answered, in a much gruffer, deeper voice.. "Yeah.. Yeah Im good.."

"Jesus.. It worked.. Can you stand?" She asked. Griff nodded as he slowly got up and almost knocked his head on a tree branch from how tall he was now. Everyone was looking up at him, jaws dropped in shock and awe, until..

"HOLY SHIT YOU'RE NAKED!!!" Rook shouted as she covered her eyes, running in place "MY EYES!! THEY BURN!!!"

"We.. better finish these wishes quick and get you some pants." Maria added, Griff simply nodded as he covered himself embarrassed.

One by one they did their wishes. Becoming who they wanted to be to fufill their purpose with Maria.

Spike wished for strong arm strenght, fast stamina and an aluminum bat that never breaks, and can destroy almost anything. Blink asked for a sword, the ability to parkour and jump from building to building like some kind of vigilante. Kip asked to be part cat for the heck of it and that whatever she draws will become a reality. Muffin asked to be a fairy, to bring joy because she isnt a fighter. Togekiss asked for high I.Q, the ability to see simulations of possibilities in the future and telekenisis and teleportation. Spooks asked to be like an Underworld Goddess, with the power to summon shadows and have the darkness on her command, and finally, Rook asked to be part bird and a wizard with elemental nature, and musical spells,to honour her beloved Lammy, she also wished to have a split personality to be like her favorite character, ENA.

And so the team was ready, and soon they would make a change to the world, the revolution has begun, it was time to shine..

For a Future Hope.

#Queen's Story #IT'S HERE #FINALLYYYYY #I HOPE YA'LL LIKE IT

[grey-eyed-menace]

Returning

"Kaitou?" Ikuo called, voice a little hoarse.

Silence, utter silence, that was... unusual, typically, his guardian would have come running ready to vault into his arms the moment he made it known he and Satsuki had made it back from practice, (not that Satsuki would be coming into the bouse anytime soon, to busy needling her boyfriend), unharmed and ready with a few new pieces to practice.

Yet, nothing. No grand exclamations, no tears of joy, or demands for Ikuo bust out the viola and show his family, as small as it was, what he had learned in the two hours he had been gone, (which, mostly, was just a hand over of his next recidal piece, and a new hate for trombone players, seriously, fuck Ryuzaki).

Tomoyo was home, that much was obvious from the shoes lined up at the door, but that also meant Kaitou should be as well, considering both his dress shoes and sneakers were thrown haphazardly in a corner as they always were.

And yet, no Kaitou.

Ikuo poked his head around the corner, eyes narrowed, surveying the interior of the living ropm, "Kaitou? Are you dead?"

All he's met with is Yuuki's favorite tea set, sitting idly, untouched, steam still rising from the filled cups.

[A gift, he had been told, from Kanae and Hitomi, hand-made, mismatched, and with two of the tea-plates floppy and bendable from the resin not setting right.

He had made a half-hearred comment about getting rid of those two plates once, Yuuki had threatened to emasculate him shortly after.

Akio had kept sipping his tea without do much as a second look, saying he would help hide the body.

If there was any doubt about the Kurama twins and their relation to Kanae and Hitomi, Ikuo would hold up a neon sign up to specifically highlight that moment, and ask, rather politely, or, well, as politely as he could, and ask if the person was fucking blind.]

Carefully, because this was the sort of shit that happened in the beginning of a horror movie, Ikuo made his way into the living room, eyes trained on the coffee table, where the tea set rested.

It looked perfectly innocent, set in a pretty little wooden tray Akio had made during one of his many, many, many 'idle' hobby projects. Still hot and ready to be drank, it was sorta strange.

Yuuki was very particular about her tea time, you didn't interrupt it without threat of death by decapitation.

And... this was all kinds of wrong, and freaky, and just downright strange.

And then the portal opened up on the ceiling.

It was right about that time Ikuo began wondering if his life was just some kind of fucked up joke for the Gods, because, you know, normally, when kids got orphaned they weren't immediately adopted by batshit insane ex-Watcher's who thought the appropriate reaction to comforting crying children was to offer up combat lessons for fighting against the Supernatural.

Or you know, thrusting them on the creepy as all fuck Necromancer you apparently had on speed-dial, and hoping against all hope they didn't end up just as fucked up as them in the long run.

[Ikuo loved Tomoyo, he did, truly, but he would be the first to admit his little brother had some seriously fucked up shit going on with him due to Eloisè Katherine and their bullshittery.]

Anyway, back to the matter at hand.

Their was a portal to God knows where in the ceiling of his living room, and, considering that he was the only one present, he was the one who had to deal with it.

Lovely.

And all he had on hand for a weapon was his viola, (which, fuck that, he liked the damn instrument, besides, it was fucking expensive to replace), and a few throw-pillows, and a tea set.

Decision made, he carefully avoided his adopted sisters tea set, and grabbed the largest pillow from the collection atop the couch, dropped his instrument case to the ground, and tried his best to look intimidating.

Seconds later, the hole dumped a pair of brunette haired lumps of human flesh over the back of the loveseat, and it was, also, at that moment, that fucking White Haired Anime Jesus descended down gracefully onto the coffee table, and the eldritch hole to Nyarlathotep's fucking sun room closed with a splutter.

White Haired Anime Jesus smiled at him, tilted his head, and took a calculated step backwards, dropping to the floor with a soft thump.

One of the two brunettes on the other side of the love-seat let out a quiet string of curses as they tried to disentangle themselves from their companion, who proceeded to groan in discomfort and make a quiet insult in a language Ikuo did not care to place.

"I bet you have many questions." Was the first thing out of White Haired Anime Jesus's mouth, lips quirked up in a smirk.

Ikuo did not, actually.

He just wanted this shit to be over with, so, without turning his back to the stranger, he quietly stumbled his over to the love-seat, throw-pillow brought up against his chest in a mockery of a shield, and, very carefully, peaked over the back to see both Akio and Yuuki still untangling themselves from one another.

And dressed like they were ready to see the Emperor himself, silently, he reasoned to question that later.

Right now, though?

"What the fuck did you two do." He hissed at them, eyes narrowed in annoyance as he met Akio's confused stare.

"Oh," White Haired Anime Jesus commented from where he had decided to sit down on the couch, ankles crossed, hands folded, and looking for all the world that he belonged there, "were you not informed of their transfer to the Royal Academy Of Diavolo?"

No, he was not, because a little over ten hours ago, Yuuki and Akio had been, for better or worse, been arguing over whether or not they wanted to apply to Murkowski Institute or Kiseki-Haruno Academy.

"I was not." Ikuo did not break eye contact with his adopted brother, instead he sneered as he spoke.

Akio had the decency to look sheepish, Yuuki, rather pointedly, mept herself focused on rising to her feet despite the obvious nausea she was experiencing.

"Ah, well, I guess you know now," White Haired Anime Jesus Mused, "it was quite the eventful seventeen months, if I do say so myself."

"I've been gone three hours," it was taking everything in Ikuo not to start screaming, and, oh, was it tempting to just give in and strangle one of the twins, "what the fuck did you two do!?"

"Seduced the seven princes of hell, of course." White Haired Anime Jesus supplied readily, smile more than apparent in his point.

Ikuo's face went slack at that, and proceeded to slowly turn towards the stranger sitting on the couch, "What?"

"Kurama Akio and Kurama Yuuki, descendants of the Fallen Angel Lilith, did the unthinkable," his smile somehow grew, showing far to many teeth for Ikuo's comfort, "they seduced the Avatars of the Seven Deadly sins, the Crown Prince of Hell, his loyal advisor and butler, an emissary from Heaven, two of the Ars Goetia, and, of course," he made an odd gesture, as though showcasing himself, "the ancient King and Sorcerer Solomon, oh, and they have the cutest little angel as a surrogate brother."

Ikuo proceeded to drop the pillow in his hands onto the twins, which made Yuuki splutter, turn around, and off the love-seat, to grab the case that held his viola, shouldered it, and made his way back to the entrance to the house.

"I did say it was an eventful seventeen months!" White Haired Anime Jesus, Solomon apparently, called out after him.

"Ikuo-onii-san! Where are you going!?" Yuuki squeaked, just as Ikuo heard Akio vault across the love-seat to likely strangle Whi- Solomon with his bare hands.

"Anywhere but here!" He called over his shoulder.

"I refuse to deal with this bullshit for the foreseeable future, until I've rightfully processed it, I'm going to crash at Yanagi's," he gave a half-hearted wave to no one in particular, "don't call me unless you're dying painfully."

He didn't bother to lock the door as he left.

#Shall We Date?: Obey Me! One Master To Rule Them All #Shall We Date?: Obey Me! #Shall We Date? #Obey Me! #One Master To Rule Them All #Obey Me! MC #Obey Me! OC #Obey Me! MC OC #OC's #My OC's #Obey Me! Kurama Akio #Obey Me! Kurama Yuuki #Obey Me! Nakahara Kaitou #Nakahara Kaitou #Kurama Yuuki #Kurama Akio #Guess who's going to 'Befriend' Belphegor? #I'll give you a hint. #There's gonna be a freakout of epic proportions and only ONE of the twins is capable of exibiting rage outside of Tranquil Fury. #And let me tell you. Tranquil Fury is going to legitimately try and kill Belphie. #Burning Rage isn't going to let the other twin near him to try though. #Ikuo tries to be a good big brother. He does. He really does. #But demons? Angel descendant? Fucking sorcerers!? #Yeah no. He's fine where he is. #He's got his own shit to figure out. #And the twins do NOT inspire a gentle approach. #Obey Me! Solomon Is A Gremlin #Tomoyo is discouraged by sorcery. And is far more intrigued by necromancy. #It's a process. You know. Of making sure Solomon doesn't recruit him. #Spade has been relegated to babysitter. You know. While Diana tries to keep four idiots from summoning Cthulu.