#my little bro swiped my phone and took this pic but

[cozyships]

also! Daisy... 🥺

#blood // #animal death // #he still sees her and I cry #my little bro swiped my phone and took this pic but #in all the chaos he sees her still. one of his reasons for fighting 🥺 #let him hold her again!!!!!!!!!!! #do some Dimension hijinx or something!!! let them be happy🥺🥺🥺 #r: love and care #Daisy tag #cozy speaks #sorry for two emotional posts in a row I’m good I think ssbdjf #but... my insert noticing him spacing out and maybe asking if he’s alright? what he’s seeing? because they can’t see her #not remembering being a ghost and following him on his Journey themself #they really didn’t have to hide her in every level #they didn’t have to hide her theme in eternals opening #they didn’t have to leave a cage and rabbit food for her in DG’s room

[obeymeluv]

QUICK! KISS ME! [Bros x Reader]

A lead-up blurb before I go to bed.

School is killing me. This has been in the drafts far longer than I wanted.

No offense if your name is Bethany. It’s a name I picked at random.

The follow-up piece will have the kiss scenarios.

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Some of Asmo’s friends may have used you to get into a special makeup event, but it’s okay! They bought you a lip gloss as a thank you! The shade ‘Sealed with a Kiss’ was not what you thought it’d be

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Being one of the first humans in the Devildom could be uncomfortable and sometimes down-right dangerous! It also had its perks. To you, that meant being close with the Seven Lords of Hell (and Diavolo). To other lesser demons and classmates, you were kind of a ‘get out of jail’ free card.

Were they late to class? Oh, just helping the human out!

Caught sneaking in food or drink when they weren’t supposed to? It’s to split with the human, of course! They thought you’d love to try it!

Everyone was keen not to overuse it and you’d actually made good friends this way. It was starting to feel less like an excuse and more of a way to be included. You were the friendly, reliable human that had won hearts and saved some asses. As a thank you, one of your closer friends (a repeat offender for lateness), invited you out to an exclusive makeup release. She was a VIP member and had early access an hour before the store opened to the Devildom public. 

The fact that she chose you, a human, over some LITERAL century-old friends caused a bit of tension but she could care less. “I’ve seen them every day for over a hundred years. You get one year, and we’re going to make it awesome!” Bethany breezed through the store at a dizzying pace, picking through concealers and opening a box of mascara to look at the packaging. She moved at a pace only demons could manage; you thought you saw her by the nail polish display but when you looked again she was throwing sheet masks in her basket. Hooking her arm with yours, she picked up some foundation on the way back to the coveted display of lip glosses and lipsticks.

You weren’t totally versed in the differences between Devildom makeup and human world makeup. In all honesty, there didn’t seem to be a difference. Bethany swatched powdery cream lipsticks on her wrist and followed with ribbons of liquid lipstick. Every now and then she dotted them on your arm; she was adamant about finding a shade the both of you could wear as your thing.  

“This one,” she decided, waving the tube at you and booping your nose with it carefully. “This is our color!” she took you by the hand and joined the checkout line. She had two in her hand but refused to let you so much as hold one, wanting to pay for it first. It wasn’t technically breaking the purchase limit rule; if they tried to nag her she’d just say she was holding onto it so another demon didn’t bully you out of it. You didn’t know if it was her VIP status or the fact that her defense made sense, but you were able to check out without a problem.

A few sour faces and mean glares met you outside but Bethany ignored it all, eager to have a Devilgram-worthy celebratory snack break (snack victory? You know, since you got the makeup?) The plan was to eat, hold down a table at the nearby cafe while her other friends shopped, and have group makeovers (or try-ons) before calling it a day. That plan was interrupted three bites into a croissant sandwich when Lucifer summoned you back to the House of Lamentation. He’d gotten wind of all the girls you’d be with and didn’t feel totally comfortable letting you hang out with them,

Had Barbatos seen something? Did Lucifer feel spurned that you weren’t hanging out with the Seven Lords of the Devildom? He gave no answer, simply asking you to stay put while someone came to escort you back to the house. Bethany was put off by the turn of events but few people dared to complain about the Seven Lords due to their connections with Diavolo (she was no exception). “If we can’t get the full makeover, we’re getting the selfie!” she declared, deftly breaking the seal to her Sealed with a Kiss gloss and swiping it on with help from the front-facing camera on her D.D.D

You busied yourself with opening your tube. Before you could ask for her phone (since the camera was already open), she took the tube from you and tilted your chin up. She dabbed the center of your lips playfully before carefully tracing your lips with the color. The heat rose in your cheeks and she smirked. Being part succubus, she could draw energy from emotions like embarrassment and the feeling of being flattered. Her fingertips pulsed under your chin as she drew on that energy. 

Getting energy sucked could feel like a lot of things -- being light-headed, getting a rush of excitement, all prickly and tingly like your whole body was pins and needles. Whatever it was, it usually faded into drowsiness and kittenish contentment. She probably only touched your chin for seconds but the wash of coziness had you melting against your chair, your cheek cradled in her palm. 

Did she take the pic? What was happening? It felt like Asmodeus had materialized out of thin air, helping you stand and making small-talk with Bethany before pulling you away, out of her aura that was trying to suckle the vestiges of happy energy you offered.

“And what shade did you get on those pretty lips, hm?” the cotton fell out of your head and ears, allowing you to really hear Asmo now that the aura effects had worn off.

“Uh,” you fished around in your bag and looked at the packaging. “Sealed with a Kiss.”

Asmodeus stopped so abruptly it’d almost yanked you back to him. The two of you were barely tangled at the pinkies and now he’d completely laced your hands together. He held your hands captive, drawing them up in surprise and basically dragging you into his torso. You were forced to look up into glittering pink eyes and if you didn’t know any better, they looked a little panicked.

“How long ago did you apply it?”

“I don’t know.” you blinked helplessly at him. That energy suck thing had a way of making your brain tune out and turn to pudding. That aside, who knows how long Asmo stood there and talked to Bethany while you were being siphoned?! “Bethany applied it, not me.”

Asmo clicked his tongue, huffed, resigned himself to only holding one hand. and started scrolling on his D.D.D to find that selfie Bethany posted. You were being dragged along like a child as Asmo’s shoes clicked towards the House of Lamentation. It amazed you how well he could navigate his D.D.D with his long, painted nails. 

Whatever he was looking for, he found it.

Asmodeus tucked his D.D.D into his pants pocket, scooped you up in a way that terrified and amazed you (two people being supported by one set of heels?), and flew to the House of Lamentation. He didn’t always use his wings, as he preferred to decorate them and maintain them with oils, but the fact that he was flying made you nervous.

What had he found? What was the deal?

“Asmo--” you started nervously, the flapping of his wings nearly drowning you out as he pushed himself. Flying against the wind didn’t help. Your hair was a mess and the wind was in your face; the Devildom was always a little chilly but now it was enough to make your face tingly.

“She gave you enchanted makeup. There is a reason humans don’t use enchanted makeup.” Asmo’s pretty brows furrowed as he cut a hard angle and glided over a portion of the square. The tell-tale thicket of trees that lined the winding path back to the House of Lamentation were on the edge of the horizon.

“What’s going to happen?” should you ask that? Did you really want to know?

“You’ll feel something in your lips--some people felt tingling, some people felt pulsing, it can be anything, I think--and then they’ll seal shut.”

“SHUT?!” you yelped. It was enough to make Asmo wince. The startle carried over to his wings; they shuddered and locked; the two of you dropped for a heartbeat or two before he corrected himself.

“If I can’t get some makeup remover on it first.” Asmo panted, tucking his wings in and preparing for a quick descent. He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t thought to teleport first--the panic? Trying to one-up Bethany by walking home and being extra cute with hand-holding?--but a quick touch down could roll into a simple skip teleportation and everything should work out!

“But my lips are already tingly!”

“Ugh, Bethany! I can’t believe you! I mean, I can because it’s you, but really, Bethany?”

“Asmo, focus!” you’d already skipped several feet ahead, clearing the front yard in two teleports. The third put you in the foyer. “I don’t want my lips to seal shut!”

The House of Lamentation was huge but when the occupants had supernatural hearing, that exclamation turned heads. 

“What’s this about your lips sealing shut?” Lucifer appeared at the top of his stairs, his head already shaking.

“DID YOU MAKE A PACT WITH A WITCH?!” Mammon screamed down the hall, clearly not far behind.

Asmo scoffed, lowering his D.D.D with a pout. He was halfway up the main stairs, fingers working at lightning speed. “It’s the lip color!” he explained, stomping his foot. Noisy people were just so annoying! If everyone was talking he couldn’t explain! How rude! 

“All this over some makeup?” skeptical Satan peered over the banister, book and arm casually propped up on it.

“If two people apply the color and kiss, they’re locked in a makeout session until it dries down. When one person applies the lip color, they can use it like a cheat sheet to see who secretly wants to kiss them,” his words tapered out from authoritatively informed to quiet and shy. “It’s from their ‘Liquid Love’ collection.” he muttered into the stunned silence of the room.

You were trying to open your lips and ask why. The magic had already taken hold. Asmodeus could see you trying to move your lips and strain your chin. Luckily, demons could read minds. “It’s because Bethany is stupid.” Asmodeus rolled his eyes. “Ambitious, but stupid.”

“Please explain, Asmo.” even when using the dear nickname Lucifer couldn’t hide the demand. His demon aura was creeping up his body and slowly becoming jagged and suffocating.

“Bethany has had a HUGE crush on our little human here, and wanted to seal it with a kiss, so to speak.” Asmo’s cheeks got pinker and pinker as he explained. Mostly because he was mad he didn’t think about it. His heart did something funny at the thought of you kissing someone else. Lucifer also looked like he wanted to murder someone about now, and Asmo had to remind himself that he was being looked through, not looked at.   

“Just grab a napkin and wipe it off.” Mammon shrugged, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

Asmodeus shook his head angrily. “It’s too late now. We need to find someone for them to kiss! Someone’s lips will break the seal on theirs...that’s kind of the point of the enchantment.”

“So they just pick someone to kiss?” Levi’s face was turning tomato red. Would it be him?! It would at least be one of them, right? What if your person wasn’t in the House of Lamentation and you NEVER SPOKE AGAIN?!

“Sort of.” Asmo patted your shoulders with his gentle, smooth hands. He started to rub them like he was trying to warm you up. Partly in encouragement and partly to get your attention because he could feel your brain spiraling down into panic. “They basically follow their mouth.”

“So that lip color is like a crush detector?” Satan abandoned his book at the top of the stairs and was now perusing articles on his D.D.D as he sauntered down the steps. It sounded like he’d found the one that sent Asmo flying to the House of Lamentation.

“Basically.” Asmo sighed. It was the stupidest way to confess to someone, he thought. Demon to demon, it was fine. Demon to human?! NO! The whole thing gave him a headache. The fact that Bethany thought she could just steal your little lips and be greedy with them was the biggest annoyance of it all.

“So,” Satan’s green eyes cut sharply from his phone to you. The corner of his lips curled up in a smart little smirk. He knew it was wrong to find your predicament so funny, but this was a very human thing to get mixed up in. “Who do your lips want? Who do you feel yourself being drawn to?”

#Blurb #Lead-up #Obey me! x reader #Asmodeus x Reader #Lucifer x Reader #Mammon x Reader #Satan x Reader #Beelzebub x Reader #Beel x Reader #Belphegor x Reader #Leviathan x Reader #Levi x Reader

[what-i-call-men]

Sell my soul

Jeff Pfister x fem!reader

Request: "anything with Jeff having a mommy kink"

Warnings: Smut! Some mommy kink (i tried ok), mentions of Michael and selling your soul to Satan

Once again the pic I stole from @copy-of-a-cheeto because they always have amazing pictures

Proof read by @divineruler

Working with Jeff and Mutt could really be challenging at times, especially when they couldn't be bothered to use your help. You hadn't really done much other than help them get their prints down for their robots, then you were demoted to coffee monkey for a few days at a time until one of the men would ask you to interact with one of their robots or help with small useless tasks. Mostly your job consisted of the marketing of their products and the output and delivery of robots they sold.

After Mutt threw a tantrum at you about his coffee order not being right, you finally gave up and walked to your desk that sat in the small room between the lab and Ms. Venable's desk. Pretty much anyone who walked into the lab had to go through your office. Yes it was pretty annoying at times but it was nice sometimes too because that means Jeff had to walk through your office whenever he wanted to go out for any reason. One day particular Ms. Venable let this man into the lab, walking through your office and giving you a kind smile as he walked into the lab.

As he walked past you could feel chills go up your spine and he closed the glass door separating your office and the lab. You stared at him for a moment as he walked up and the men greeted him. You looked at Venable and stood from your desk, walking over to her desk. "Who is that?" You asked and gestured to the glass doors as you sat on the side of her desk. She glared at where you sat but said nothing. "His name is Michael. He's a very powerful man." She said and waved the back of her hand at you. "Now if you'll excuse me I actually have work to get done." She excused you off her desk and you huffed, walking back to your office and clicking around on the website.

You tried to keep your eyes to yourself but you couldn't help but look over at the coconut heads as they talked to this mystery man. More specifically you looked at Jeff. You couldn't tell what it was about him but he seemed so cute and fuckable. You knew you had barely any chance because he could literally make a robot of his ideal woman and have her do whatever he'd like, why would he choose to sleep with someone like you when he could build the perfect woman for himself.

After a few minutes, you were fucking around on your phone before the shades to the lab dropped quickly and then only about a minute later the door to your office opened and Michael walked out with a smile on his face. He looked at you for a moment, stopping in the doorway. You had Jeff's Instagram pulled up on your phone, shamelessly looking at a picture the two of you had taken at some big event for a news website. Michael closed the lab door behind him and looked at your phone where it sat on your desk.

"Do you like him?" He asked and looked down his nose at the phone. You felt the chills run down your spine again. "Yeah... and I just want him to like me back- even better I wish I had the courage to make him like me back." You suddenly found yourself kinda spilling everything to this man without considering it beforehand. "I can help you with that... My father is in a pretty powerful position. We could make a deal and I can get you what you want." He said and walked to where he could place his hands against your desk and lean over it. You swallowed the spit in your mouth and stared at him. You couldn't really say anything but you did nod. Michael grinned and offered his hand to you. "Sell your soul to Satan, like they did, and you can have him wrapped around your pinky plus the courage you need to get him." Michael said and you paused before taking his hand.

He leaned forward and kissed the back of your hand before walking out of the room. You paused for a second and looked down to your desk. You didn't feel any different at first, but then you heard your door to the lab opening. Mutt walked out through the door and nodded at you, saying he was running out to pick up lunch for them, leaving the door wide open behind him. You nodded and spun in your chair for a few moments after Mutt left your office.

That's when you heard Jeff call for you from the lab, so you walked over, already feeling yourself stand a bit taller. "Hey y/n can you help me with this coding? I can't find why I'm getting errors." He said and you walked around his desk looking at his laptop over his shoulder. You glanced over the code realizing really quickly that Jeff didn't fill in parts of the code, just leaving them blank. "You literally didn't fill out the whole code." You said and pointed at the computer screen before looking at Jeff. He was obviously staring at your chest. You smirked a little and played into it. Pushing your hands against the edge of his desk and pushing your breasts together as you leaned forwards to "look at the code".

You pointed to the screen and Jeff didn't look back to the screen from your chest. You stood up and he looked quickly up to your face. "Oh baby if you wanna stare that hard you might as well take a picture." You said and leaned back to sit on his desk. He stammered for a second before spitting out a simple "can you just help me with this?" You shrugged and looked at the computer and he continued to glance between your chest and the screen. After instructing him what to type in, his hands shook as he typed. Eventually you reached forwards and took his hands off his keyboard.

"Jeff, do you want me to help you?" You asked and he nodded a bit. Gently pushing his shoulder back, you moved onto his lap gently, sitting and facing his computer. You typed into the code silently, yet you could feel him adjust against your ass, his very prominent boner pressing against you. You just smiled to yourself as he stammered quietly behind you.

“C-can you help me with something else…” he asked softly, now pushing his blushing face against your shoulder from behind.

“Where do you need my help baby?” You asked, a smirk finding its way across your lips as he pushed against you with his dick. You took that as a sign and stood up, turning around in his lap to straddle him in his desk chair. “You want mommy to take care of your little problem?” You ask, your hand roaming down to gently rub him through his jeans. He nodded and moaned quietly against your shoulder.

Moving yourself up a bit, you unzipped his jeans and moved them down a bit so you could properly rub him through his boxers. God whatever Michael was, he definitely worked a bit of magic to get you to this place. Jeff whimpered under you as you rubbed him through his boxers. “Please…” he whimpered as you moved off of him and back to kneel on the ground between his knees.

As you kneeled down, Jeff hurriedly pushed his jeans down along with his boxers. “Slow down baby, don’t you wanna enjoy this?” You asked in a quiet voice and wrapped your hand around his length. It was harder than you would’ve thought for having just barely riled him up. As soon as you made contact with him his dick jumped and he whined. With that reaction you gripped him a bit harder and began to stroke him slowly, leaning in to lick the precum off his tip and giving small suckles to the tip as his hips bucked against your movements.

As your actions continued, you heard Jeff’s cell phone buzzing against his desk, you two paused to look at it. It was Mutt calling him. “Go on and answer it baby. I’m sure it’s really important.” You whispered and his shaky hand swiped the answer button and put it on speaker.

“Hey bro. They don’t have the sandwich that you usually get. What do you want instead?” Mutt’s voice sounded from the phone. You looked up to Jeff, now fully taking his length in your mouth and sucking on it roughly. He bit back a moan and there his head back against his office chair.

“Dude, h-honestly just get me whatever you got… whatever you got last time. I-It looked good.” He responded and let out a breath as you began to bob your head against him. Mutt paused for a second on the line.

“You said that it smelled like shit and that you hated it. What about that chicken one that you had a few days ago? I can make a stop on the way back if you’d prefer that. I know Y/n likes the soup from that place. Do you know if she brought lunch in today for herself?” Mutt asked and Jeff’s eyes lulled back in his head; both rolling his eyes at Mutt’s questioning but also at you lazily jerking him off as you sucked on his tip.

“Uh, it doesn’t look like it… I’d make the stop and get it just in case.” Jeff responded and as he spoke you doubled down and sucked a bit harder.

“She’s been doing pretty good lately. Can you remind me when I get back that I wanted her to put a new listing on the site? That fleshlight that you designed to look like her will be a top seller bro. And I bet you she’ll be none the wiser that it’s inspired by her.” Man if Jeff’s face wasn’t already beet red by this whole situation it was now.

“Y-yeah dude. I’ll remind you later. I’ll see you when you get back to the shop.” He spit out a quick goodbye and then hung up the phone. You pulled off of Jeff and looked at his face, which now refused to look back at yours. you hummed and stood up from where you knelt. Jeff looked at you quickly, scared you were upset by what Mutt had said over the phone. Instead you leaned against Jeff’s desk, slowly pulling yourself to sit on it. “A-are you mad?” He asked softly, looking up at you embarrassed.

“No, baby. But next time if you want to fuck me so badly…” you said as you undid your jeans in front of him. “Just ask. You don’t need a fleshlight when you can have the real thing.” You said and pushed down your jeans and panties infront of him. Leaning back on the desk, you stared him down. Your own hand came to grab his shaking one, placing it gently against your cunt. “Now how about you go ahead and give mommy a taste.” You said and he was on you in seconds.

You didn’t want to lose your dominance, but the second Jeff’s lips were basically devouring you, you couldn’t help but let out an almost pornographic moan. You’d think the man would be more focused on his own pleasure due to the fact that as his job, but the way he licked and sucked at your cunt told you he might’ve been using that fleshlight for things other than fucking. You reached down and grabbed a handful of his hair as he pushed a finger into you slowly. “Fuck baby. Just like that hun.” You mumbled and threw your head back as he thrust his finger in and out of you in speed with his tongue against your clit.

After not too long you felt your back arch against the cold table and your thighs squeeze around Jeff’s head as you came against his tongue. The moan you let out, you were sure Venable would hear, but honestly you weren’t too concerned about that now. What you were concerned about was Jeff’s face, patchy red and staring up at you from between your thighs. His hair was tousled and his eyes were glossy as he stared at you. “C-can I please fuck you? Please mommy…” He asked as he moved his finger out of you, but instead of fully removing it he moved it to rub your clit slowly.

You nodded at him and he eagerly stood from his chair. Glancing at him you saw a pretty big stain on his shirt and it became obvious very quickly that you were not the only one who came, but he was already hard as a rock again. Smirking silently to yourself, you pulled your shirt off. He looked over your bra clad chest as he adjusted himself between your legs. As he slowly pushed himself into you, you felt him shake a little bit from excitement and nervousness. Pushing in, he leaned over you a bit, silently staring at your breasts as he leaned above you.

“Go ahead baby.” You whispered and almost immediately your bra padding was pulled down and his lips were connected to your nipple, his other hand finding your other breast. He immediately began some small thrusts into you on instinct as he sucked. The thrusts soon became more forceful and purposeful and your moans became a bit more high pitched. You could tell his stamina wasn’t going to let him last long so you would get the most out of this that you can.

Jeff’s eyes were glued to you, hardly able to pull them away for fear that if he did you’d cease to exist. Your moans of his name felt like small blessings from whatever beings were out there and having you wrapped around him was somehow just a pure god send. As you noted his slow in pace, you looked down back to him, gently wrapping your hand around his throat and catching his attention. “Go faster Jeff.” you strained out and squeezed his neck. He obeyed and you leaned up to catch his lips in a kiss as you felt yourself topple over the edge, his own orgasm following only seconds later.

As he slowed, he didn't pull out immediately, instead you wrapped him up in the kiss. You two made out for a moment as you caught your breath. As you slowed and he pulled out, you excused yourself to the small bathroom the men had attached to their lab. After cleaning yourself quickly, you walked out and saw Jeff sitting at his desk again, Mutt walking into the lab almost the same time you were walking out of the bathroom. You smiled at Mutt as he handed you the soup he had mentioned before on the phone. “Thanks Mutt. By the way, it’s bold of you to assume I wouldn’t know what my own pussy looks like. That’s not it…” you pointed at the fleshlight sat at his desk. “Jeff, how about you show him what needs fixing.” You smiled at the men and walked back to your desk, shutting the door behind you.

#jeff pfister x reader #Jeff pfister smut #jeff pfister #ahs apocalypse

[after-witch]

With Friends Like These (Yandere Dazai x Naive!Reader)

Title: With Friends Like These... (Yandere Dazai x Naive!Reader)

Synopsis: One of your friends thinks Dazai is controlling. Dazai doesn’t like that at all. 

Based on: Anonymous said:  I just finished your recent yan dazai hc and now all I can imagine is that he moves forward with a plan to get that person to be all theirs using any method necessary [note: referencing yan dazai with oblivious/nurturing s/o headcanons]

Word count: 1400ish

notes:  yandere, manipulation

Dazai's thumb easily flicked down your phone screen, checking for anything interesting, anything new, anything (or anyone) that conflicted with his view for your life. You were in the shower, blissfully unaware that he'd read every single "private" conversation you'd had over the past few months whenever he got the chance. It was easy. You didn't hesitate giving him your password, once you'd agreed to start dating.

He probably didn't even need to do this privately, he mused; he could convince you that it was something couples did. Still, that came with the calculated risk that you'd offhandedly mention it to someone else, and they would let you know that your boyfriend was being controlling. They’d probably pry out more information that concerned them and before he knew it, you might confront him or god forbid, get up the nerve to take a break. And that might lead to... other measures, measures Dazai didn't want to take, at least not if he could keep you willingly.

So far, however, your messages were unsurprisingly mundane. You sometimes sent photos of him and you--going out to eat, heading to a museum, or simply resting at his apartment--to the few closer friends that he hadn’t yet been able to chase off.

You used to send solo selfies, silly photos of you wearing comfy pajamas or trying out new looks, but he'd put a stop to that; so now it was couples-pics or nothing. A few photos here and there. Check-ins and emojis. The occasional cancellation on your end--his doing, usually, it was far too easy to get you to lessen contact with friends. All he had to do was withdraw until you were upset, then dangle his presence in front of you on the same day as previously made plans. Sometimes Dazai hated how easy it was to manipulate you.

Ah, there is something, Dazai thought. A message from your friend Orion something-or-other. Dazai had pushed you into cancelling your recent planned lunches and movie nights and catching-up-over-drinks evenings with Orion.

He didn't want you hanging out with anyone, really, but Orion was a particularly annoying presence in your life. He'd sent you a long, meaningful and concerned message after your recent cancellation.

Dazai felt his mouth settling into a frown as he read each word. ‘You are my friend and I care about you…’ ‘I don’t want you to be mad…’ ‘I’ve talked to the others about this… ‘ ‘It seems like he’s really controlling…’ ‘Trying to isolate you…’ ‘It’s not normal…’ ‘Let’s meet at our regular place tomorrow to talk, please.’

What a prying bastard, Dazai thought. Trying to put his nose where it didn’t belong--trying to put his nose into something that belonged to Dazai: you.

Worst of all, you’d replied to this heartfelt message: “I know you care about me! I would never be mad at you for sharing concerns. :) I will see you tomorrow and we can both talk, okay? :) :) :)”

Part of Dazai was furious that you didn’t shut down your friend immediately. You should have rushed to his defense, soothing Orion’s concerns and praising Dazai to high heaven. Yet another part of him recognized that it was just another facet of your exceedingly good nature. You didn’t want to hurt Orion’s feelings by shutting him down, so you would hear him out. But was that really it? Or were you having concerns about your relationship that Orion’s message tapped into?

Dazai hated loose ends, and Orion’s place in your life needed to be wrapped up--permanently.

**

Dazai loved it when you looked anxious. You reminded him of a little mouse--and he was the cat, naturally. And it was his favorite type of nervous, soft, submissive expression that you wore as you shifted from one leg to the other in discomfort. You wanted to argue, he could tell. But you could never get up the nerve to be so mean to your boyfriend.

“Osamu… he’s--he’s one of my best friends. I don’t understand.”

Dazai kept a firm, patronizing gaze, the type that typically kept you from arguing too much. “(Y/N). I really don’t want to share the details. They’re too… awful… for someone like you.”

At that, you practically puffed out your cheeks, and Dazai had to bite the inside of his own to keep from smiling. 

“I’m a grown adult! You can tell me things, you know. I’m not--I’m not a helpless baby, you know.”

He said nothing, instead wanting to see where you would take things on your own. It was helpful--it let him know where you tended to drift, when left unguided. And it was fun to reel you back in when you strayed too far from his own plans.

“Fine!” You said, throwing up your hands. “Then I’m going to meet Orion for lunch. Who knows,” you quipped, “Maybe what he has to say will be helpful.”

It was enough to almost piss him off. But he knew that anger was the easy way out, with you. He could yell at you once and you would probably meekly comply. But that was a short-term solution to a long-term problem. 

So instead, Dazai sighed, long and drawn out and filled with an air of I-told-you-so. 

"Okay. I really didn't want to have to show you this. But..." he let the phrase trail as he pulled out his phone and tapped on the messaging app. "Read these. This is why I think you shouldn’t meet with this friend of yours.”

He held the phone out like something dirty, and you tentatively took it into your own hands.  Your eyes slowly looked down at the screen as you noted an unlisted number on top of the screen. It was a number you recognized easily--the messages were from Orion.

Your thumb slowly swiped down as you read message after message, and oh how Dazai wished he could take a photo of the look unfolding on your face. It was beautiful. You were beautiful. Hurt and humiliation and even anger mingled in, a sort of deep-set anger that he had never seen from you before. Part of him was tempted to encourage you to confront your friend, if only to see that anger bubble over. But that was an exceptional risk, so the notion was quickly tossed aside.

The messages you were reading, the messages causing tears to prick your eyes and your cheeks to redden in shame, ranged from “Orion” insulting Dazai for dating you to threatening him into leaving you and finally to insulting you.

She's a dumbass bimbo who would open her mouth for dick with a smile as long as you told her it was candy. Did you know sucked off every guy at her old work? Do you really want your reputation tainted by being with a whore like that? Just trying to warn you bro. Break up with her before it’s too late. 

And the final message, sent that very morning:

After I’m through talking to her today, I’ll be sure to send you a vid of her lips around my cock. I don’t mind an easy lay lol.

It was the last few messages, barbed and hurtful and oh-so-nasty, that did you in. Dazai watched as your pretty face crumpled into a scrunched, ugly mess. You barely had the strength to set his phone down on the table before tears began streaming down your cheeks. You used your free hands to cover your face in shame.

After appreciating the sight for a moment, Dazai took a few steps forward and wrapped his arms around you. You melted easily into him, slotting yourself against his side.

“I’m--I’m--” you said, barely able to get out the words. “I’m so-so sorry!” You sobbed more, shaking your head in disbelief. Dazai felt like he could practically see the years of friendship splintering away in your devastated facial expressions. Feelings of betrayal made you so beautiful. He would tuck that nugget of information away for later use.

“He--he just wanted us to break up so he could... could...” You couldn’t finish the sentence, and instead you rested your tear-streaked face against Dazai’s shoulder.

He hushed you, gentle and protective. “It’s okay, (Y/N). It’s not your fault.” He rubbed your back soothingly. “You’re just too trusting for your own good.”

#yandere dazai #yandere dazai osamu #yandere bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs dazai #yandere x reader #afterwitch writes #me trying to write insults: the movie #idk bro bro idk bro...

[obligatoryidolblog]

I KNOW YOUR REQUESTS ARE PILING UP BUT I DESPERATELY NEED TO SEE (more like read) SEUNGYOUN WITH ONLYFANS PLEASE IM BEGGING YOUDKHDIDMWISHSISSNLSIVMVU

Alrighty. Again, this took me like fifty million years, and it’s not completed. This is a part one of idk how many parts, but writer’s block hit me square in the face. Feedback would be GREATLY appreciated! I have more than this written but idk how much I like it, so I’d love for you guys to let me know what you think and where you want it to go.

Masterlist

“Fuck Yuehua,” Seungyoun mumbled, storming through his bedroom and flinging himself to the bed. 

Pulling out his phone, he once more looked at the offending email. Once more, his company was basically refusing to promote him in any meaningful way. Tossing the phone to the bed beside him, he frowned at the ceiling, fuming. No matter how many songs he wrote, produced, recorded, his shitty company wouldn’t put any weight behind the work he was trying so desperately to share with the world. Poking out his bottom lip, he huffed, lifting a leg and letting it fall to the bed with a petulant thump. 

Wanting to release a full length album shouldn’t be that big an ask. It’s not like he didn't have a backlog of songs ready to release. Hearing his phone vibrate next to his head, he turned to see a text illuminating the screen. Lifting the device, he squinted at the screen. 

[Jamie] how’d it go? 

[Youn] bullshit again. denied. 😡

[Jamie] sorry, youn, wish i could help. 

[Youn] unless you’ve got like a buttload of money to throw to my studio…

[Jamie] lol sorry dude i’m not doing much better. lmao we should just start onlyfans for funding

[Youn] ??

[Jamie] ....dude you don’t know what onlyfans is?

[Youn] should i? is it like naver or vlive?

[Jamie] omg you angel 😂

[Jamie] i mean it’s kind of like vlive fanships? but for nudes?

Seungyoun nearly dropped his phone on his face as this information absorbed and he felt his cheeks flame at the thought. His thinking shifted quickly to the look on his manager’s face if he even suggested the possibility and he snorted as his phone vibrated again.

[Jamie] lmao did i just break your naive little brain, kiddo?

[Youn] no just picturing the look on my manager’s face if i even tried

[Jamie] bro he’d swallow his tongue

[Youn] remember when i posted the topless instagram pic? he’s more likely to just shoot me lmao

[Jamie] omg yes like can’t they let a bitch thirst trap in peace? 

[Youn] apparently not, tho if it paid for my album i might risk it all lol 🤔

[Jamie] sweetie knowing your fans it’d pay for more than that

[Youn] people really make money off of that shit?

[Jamie] oh sweetie…  you innocent angel

[Youn] lol stoppppppp

[Jamie] let’s just say the pay puts fanships, concerts, and album sales to shame 👀👀👀👀

[Youn] ...fuck

[Jamie] i’m just sayin 👀

[Youn] shit. risk versus reward, right?

[Jamie] it’s not like you listen to your company that often anyways, right?

Pausing to consider, Seungyoun debated whether he really could bring himself to that level. It wasn’t like he was shy about showing his body, but that was going to a level that he was not quite sure he was comfortable with. Shaking his head, he sighed, tapping at the screen of his phone once more.

[Youn] yeah yeah. idk, maybe if it wasn’t nudes

[Youn] the world isn’t ready for that 🍆

[Jamie] lmao ok sure 🤥

[Jamie] but jsyk it doesn't like have to be totally nude

[Youn] sounds like you put a lot of thought into this one

[Jamie] you’re not the only one that’s unappreciated lol 👀

Pursing his lips, Seungyoun deliberated, the new information circling. Swiping to the web browser on his phone, he quickly googled onlyfans. Reading quickly, he took a moment to reflect. If Jamie was right, this could possibly fund the album he’d been dreaming of putting out. Hell, more. He’d likely get in deep shit with Yuehua, but at this point he wasn’t sure he cared. Quickly swiping back to his convo with his friend, he typed, chewing at his lower lip.

[Youn] ok. how about this? i’m in if you’re in. i’m not getting my ass in trouble alone lmao

There was a long pause, the typing bubbles popping up and disappearing many times as he chewed at his lip and waited on Jamie’s reply. Finally the phone vibrated in his hand, and his pulse sped as a grin overtook his face.

[Jamie] well fuck. let’s do this.

***

The next day Seungyoun had set up the account, carefully taking and deleting about fifty pictures for his profile before deciding on one. With a shaky breath he prepared to make a post that would change the trajectory of his career. Quickly, before he could lose his nerve, he made a post and copied it across all his social accounts. It was simply a link to his freshly made onlyfans. Setting his phone down, he looked up, swallowing thickly as he watched his friend do the same. She tossed her phone to the couch between them, and their eyes met as she quickly grabbed the bottle of alcohol on the coffee table and downed a deep chug.

“Well. We did it,” she breathed out, wincing at the burn as she handed the soju to Seungyoun. 

Both of their phones immediately illuminated, and their eyes met once more as Seungyoun took a shot of the alcohol in his hand and replied, “And it begins.”

Passing the bottle back, he answered the call as Jamie did the same, and they both tried not to laugh as the booze fired their veins and they each heard tinny screams from the speakers of their phones. They knew it was coming. But more importantly, swiping from the call, ignoring the voice of his manager, Seungyoun watched as his onlyfans blew up before his very eyes. 

“What the fuck are you thinking?” he caught from his manager.

“I think I’m making my fucking album, one way or another,” he replied, grinning at the screen, “and I’m going to do it without showing the world my dick, so calm down.”

There was a pause, then slightly calmer words, but all Seungyoun could hear was the music he was about to create for his fans who were willing to bring his dreams to life themselves. 

***

A fuzz of alcohol blurred his mind as Seungyoun laughed with Jamie on his couch at their pure luck. Neither of them were being fired, neither were being sued. That was a win, sure, but the true luck was that their respective fans had gone all in for this idea. Texts had flooded in from friends in the industry and it looked like they were about to become trendsetters after sharing the amounts of money their fans had already sent their way. They were riding the high of victory, and celebrating with far too much soju. Jamie clinked her shot glass with Seungyoun’s, giggling as her drink sloshed on her hand, then froze, her eyes going wide. 

Downing the burning liquid, Seungyoun asked with a wince, “What?”

“Shit,” she replied, slapping a palm to her forehead, “Shit, shit, shit!”

“What, what, what?” he asked again, setting down the bottle and trying to bring her into focus.

“We have to post now. We have to… shit,” she replied after a moment, her eyes wide.

Seungyoun froze, his own cloudy mind racing as he realized she was right. Their fans had been so generous with them, so eager for this to succeed. Now they had to make good on their end of the bargain. Swallowing, he locked eyes with his friend, then looked down at himself. He was in ragged pajama pants and a stained t-shirt, his hair pushed back by a hairband. This was certainly not how he should be presenting himself to his loyal fans. Jamie wasn’t in much better shape, her clothing mirroring his and a sloppy ponytail currently disintegrating on the back of her head. 

“Fuck,” Seungyoun breathed.

***

Trying to bring his form in the mirror into focus, Seungyoun shook his freshly washed hair from his face, letting it fall in shaggy, dripping spikes around his bare face. The towel slung low on his hips dropped to the floor, and he took a deep breath, studying his reflection to find any visual clues to how utterly smashed he was. Deciding he looked sober enough, he lifted his phone, his heart racing. Leaning forward, placing one fisted hand on the bathroom counter, clenching to pronounce the veins in his arms, Seungyoun opened the camera on his phone, aiming it at the mirror. 

He framed his body, the mirror lightly wreathed in steam from his shower, and made sure that his cock was just hidden by the counter, the v of his hips accentuated by the pistol tattoo visible almost to the base of his dick. Making sure his pose was stable, he raised his eyes, meeting the camera in the mirror and letting his lips fall open slightly. Flexing with all his might, he snapped a few pictures, then quickly picked up the towel and dried himself, scrolling through the pictures to find the best one. After shoving his legs into a fresh pair of sweatpants, he tugged open the bathroom door and called out to Jamie in the kitchen.

“Come help me pick one of these,” he absently said, still studying his phone screen, picking every detail his drunken mind could register apart. 

“Oh my god, Youn, I dunno if I want to see these pics,” Jamie groaned past a mouthful of eggs, “That’s more of you than I want to know about.”

“I’m not naked, come on, I’m too drunk for this,” he replied, dropping to a seat and pushing his phone across the table to his friend.

“That’s why I’m waiting until tomorrow when I’m sober,” she snorted, looking down at the phone he’d shoved at her, swiping through the pictures then shrugging and giving his phone back as she added, “They all look the same. Post any of them and your fans will combust.”

“You don’t seem too affected,” he mumbled poutily, quickly posting one, not letting himself overthink it any longer.

“Oh sweetie,” she chuckled, reaching across the table to pinch his cheek playfully, “You’re not the first idol I’ve seen topless, and you won’t be the last. Plus I’ve seen too much of your idiot side. Sorry, but you’re not my type.”

Gasping and clutching his heart in mock agony, he cried back, “You mean I am not every woman’s type?”

Seungyoun snagged her bowl of food from before her, dragging it across the table to pick at it as she smacked at his hand, shooting back, “You wish, kiddo!”

***

The sun streamed through the curtains over Seungyoun’s bed, glaring into his eyes, boring holes into his pounding head with its brightness. Groaning out a curse, he dropped an arm over his eyes, allowing the heaviness of his hangover to lull him back into sleep until he felt his phone vibrate on the bed next to him. Heaving his body to roll to his side, he lifted an eyelid to peer down at the screen of his phone. A litany of notifications illuminated his screen, and he winced, groaning as he rubbed his eyes and lifted the device. 

Ignoring the texts from his manager, he found mention after mention on social media where fans had gone feral for his new venture, a few even reposting the picture he’d drunkenly posted the night before. He sighed as he studied the picture once more, knowing he should have waited until he was sober, but fearing the loss of his nerve. It wasn’t the greatest picture of him, nor the worst. His face was half covered by his phone, the steamed mirror blurred parts of him, but the fans seemed to be rabid for more nonetheless. 

Pulling up onlyfans, he found message after message praising him, a few chastising him, and many requesting rather specific content that had his cheeks heating. Turning to the PMs, he found much of the same, but then a PM caught his eye. It was from a fellow content creator, and it simply said: Oh honey. You can do better than that. If you need tips, lmk. I’m a fan. 😘

Raising an eyebrow, he clicked to the profile of the person. Immediately he dropped the phone to his face, yelping and scrambling to lift it again. Skin. So much skin. And this was on the free profile page. Stilling his shaking hands, he gathered his wits once more. This wasn’t his first time seeing a naked woman for fuck’s sake. But as he took in the pretty girl who was mostly naked, in the most flattering poses, he felt his already half-hard cock spring to attention. He considered jerking off, but instead went back to the PM sent to him and replied: Ok. Help me out.

#woodz smut #woodz series #cho seungyoun #woodz #my writing #under 50 notes

[ghostmartyr]

how a life can move from the darkness [11/?]

| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 |

Summary: Two drug addicts (Eren and Historia) meet in group and decide to be roommates to make their  living situation slightly less weird. From there we do the slow burn  found family dance mixed in with the struggles and agonies of recovery. Heavy on friendship feels, especially EMA. Eventual yumikuri.

Ymir was going to be part of Eren’s life. He’d known for a while he didn’t have much of a choice in that. There wasn’t anything surprising about her coming to one of Zeke’s games. The surprise would be if she kept it at one. Ymir did what she wanted unless Historia told her not to, and according to Reiner what she wanted was to see Historia in a baseball uniform.

Eren didn’t need to know that, but he was getting used to all of it. He didn’t need Historia asking him five different times if Ymir meeting Armin and Mikasa was something he was okay with. No one had to hold his hand over them anymore. He had two of his own.

ymir’s showing at the game historia’s friend

               Is this the girl from juvie

why do you know that

                               Historia was in juvie??

               She watches Rivaille for me sometimes.                It came up.

                               Why was Historia in juvie??

from when she killed her dad

                               Oh. That makes sense                                Wait, I thought that was self defense sort of

               No.

                               ????

It was all fine, and the worst thing about any of it was still that he was going to one of Zeke’s baseball games. Which wasn’t even so bad with Armin, Mikasa, and Historia all there and whole. Petra had called it a ‘sterling improvement.’ Eren didn’t remind her of all the parts left to work on. Maybe she’d call that an improvement, too.

What wasn’t fine was jolting awake at four in the morning, music Eren didn’t recognize blasting from his phone while his head hit go on lunging out of bed into his nightstand.

Ankle caught in his sheets, Eren held the box of sensory destruction in his hands for full seconds before the ability to turn it off came back to him. Blinding puffs of white clouds parted, and he could swipe the brightness down to numbing without his ears bleeding.

A jumble of words waited on his brain to catch up. Sprouting like weeds.

yo Baseball Boy u have friends coming to this thing right ur ocean instagram hot tub scale bro and catgirl

The corner of his phone agreed. It was four in the morning.

It buzzed enthusiastically in his hand, helpful emoji arrows loading to point at empty image boxes. They were quickly filled by another Eren, kneeling in wet sand and unaware that Armin was expanding the subjects of his Instagram. Five different angles popped up.

who needs this many pics of a sea urchin was he trying to get the seashell ur on top of

Eren’s fingers moved slowly.

               why are you awake

Ymir did not respond with an answer.

how many hours do photoshoots like this take

Another shot loaded under the text, and it could have been the end of the world and Eren still would have recognized the picture from his last beach trip. Mikasa, magically captured in a moment of lifting him and Armin into the air. The unfair, unexpected moment in a day of clouds and uncooperative waves. Armin hadn’t seen it coming any more than Eren had, even though it was his picture. But he was the one beaming into the camera.

Eren hadn’t wanted to go. There was a tournament to prep for. Annie had been helping him. The cut on his cheek from her toe catching his face hadn’t even had a chance to heal. Captured in that one second Mikasa had lifted them up and Armin had thought to hold on to his phone, the mark was bright and red, flexing with his open mouth of outrage.

Mikasa was smiling too. She just wasn’t looking at the phone.

The top of the photo was cut off with a buzz.

u have a face under that hair… unreal […] u’d look prettier if u smiled

Eren untangled his foot from his bedding and flumped back on his pillow with his phone in hand.

               fuck off

do u kiss ur besties with those fingers am I gonna get to watch that @ the game

Irritation didn’t offer the same warmth as his comforter, but the kindling helped take off the morning chill. Eren scrubbed his face with the palm of his hand and scowled at the screen.

               you and historia need to stop asking about that                I’m fine

A minute passed. Long enough for a yawn to dim the adrenaline.

cool

Eren waited for the rest.

He woke up with the sun shining under his blinds, his phone inside his pillowcase, no new messages from Ymir, and one unread apology text from Historia sent at five in the morning. And a baseball game to go to.

----

“You sure you don’t want to play? You have the arms for it.”

Yelena sat in the corner of the dugout. Up straight, even though her hair caught in the splinters hooked in the ceiling. Smiling, because she did that. Giving Eren an entire bench of personal space he hadn’t asked for, because she did that too.

“I’m sure,” he said, taking the batting helmets out of Zeke’s bag and jamming them in their cubbies.

Yelena was the only other person in the dugout. She started better cold. According to her.

Mikasa and Historia were warming up in the outfield, Historia looking out at the bleachers every five seconds. Colt and Zeke were next to them. Throwing like Colt didn’t mind doing nothing else a thousand times over.

One of the helmets hit the shelf instead of its slot. Eren ignored the field and shoved it back into place. Armin was planning to be on time instead of an hour early, so he wasn’t around yet.

Yelena was smiling at Eren.

He didn’t like it.

“Zeke keeps a spare uniform on hand. Your roommate would have found trouble with the fit, but your proportions are more agreeable,” Yelena said. “He’d be happy to give it to you. Playing with his brother again would mean the world and more to him.”

The helmets were cheap plastic past the padding. Eren’s hands could crack them. Easily. Take Zeke’s toys and break them to see if that would make talking to Eren about feelings and what he wanted sound any better.

He’d done that by accident as a kid. It never worked. Whether or not it would now wasn’t a thought that had even settled when a new voice found its way into the shaded dirt. “What’s big brother have against the world?”

Like a grinning gargoyle, mocking and light, Ymir appeared, settling her arms on the dugout’s roof and leaning into Eren’s personal space. His reflection blinked at him from the mirrored rainbow sunglasses perched on her forehead.

It took several seconds before the reflection’s eyes shifted enough to catch the waving figure next to her. Armin, earlier than he ever was to these, because he never got enough sleep and had to catch up somewhere, smiled awkwardly, a good chunk of his body fully accosted by Ymir.

Something heavy and warm was threading into Eren’s chest, and it made it hard to look at either of them. “Aren’t those Reiner’s?” he asked.

“Aren’t you going to say hello?”

He put away the last helmet soundlessly. “You stole his sunglasses?”

“Since my last felony went so well,” Ymir said, hopping down and crushing a sunflower seed under the pointed dress shoes she’d decided to wear to a baseball game. “You should care more that I stole Instagram boy.”

She flipped off the glasses and planted them squarely on Eren’s head, bypassing every physical and verbal protest. Armin, standing out in the sunshine and looking happier than anyone should at one of these things, quietly drew out his phone and Eren rolled his eyes compliantly before the shutter noise sounded.

Yelena interrupted the moment.

“You’re new.”

Armin’s smile stiffened. Ymir’s hands made another knot in Eren’s hair, and she passed Yelena a bored look. “Yeah,” she said, “I suppose I am. You’d be?”

“Yelena,” said Yelena. A hand stuck out by Eren’s hip and hovered there with all the earnest politeness that never felt honest coming from her. She kept at it every time anyway. “It’s a pleasure to meet another one of Eren’s friends.”

“I’ll bet,” Ymir said. “You don’t look like someone who comes by that naturally.” There was a shark in those teeth. Eren hadn’t realized Yelena was bleeding in the water. “Don’t take it too personally; that brother of his doesn’t have apartment privileges either.”

Without another word, she grabbed Eren by his scalp and yanked him up the steps, disregarding his balance and safety and pulling him into the morning sunlight next to a staring Armin. Before she kept the movement going and pressed heavy hands on their backs and shoved them out of the backstop’s limits.

Failing on the rest, and making limited headway forcing Ymir out of his hair, Eren offered,“Good morning.”

Armin, eyes alight and stunned, said, “Good morning.”

Eren jabbed his thumb over his shoulder. “This is Ymir.”

Armin nodded. “We met by the drinking fountain.”

Eren nodded.

Ymir continued pushing them towards the bleachers, scuffing line chalk all over their shoes, with only one telling stumble that set Armin free from her grip. Eren wasn’t so lucky, and it felt on purpose.

The pressure pushing him away from the dugout didn’t let up. Ymir had earned her rock climbing qualifications somewhere and it showed, but her entire head was aimed at the outfield, where Historia missed an easy lob by her head because her glove was down at her waist. Mikasa had to call her name several times before it took, and she jogged back to fetch the ball with a stumble that gave Mikasa time to look over to determine what was so distracting.

She found Eren first. In their oddly connected pile.

He pointed at Ymir.

Mikasa’s eyebrows rose. He shrugged.

Ymir stared, since that’s what she did when Historia was in orbit, and Historia kept moving while she stared back. Crossing near Zeke and Colt in the process. Where every third throw was a risk since Zeke was putting Colt through grounder paces. Colt wasn’t great with grounders. His little brother was. Eren was. That was half of little league.

Armin’s face popped in front of Eren and he almost jumped. “Ymir thought you’d like watching from the stands with us,” he said. “That’s not how she said it, but—do you want to?”

A floater landed softly in Colt’s glove, and Eren pulled his eyes away. “Sure,” he said, focusing on Armin and the warmth coming through Ymir’s hand on his back. On how easy it always was here.

“So Armin,” Ymir said into the quiet morning mist, “what was Eren like before he had hair?”

“Louder, mostly.”

“Hey.”

----

Watching from the bleachers wasn’t that different from watching from the dugout. There were still rooting for the same people. Nothing they did contributed to how it was going. It was still several hours of watching people stand in one spot waiting for a moment that might never come.

There wasn’t anything new to it.

“Cutter.”

“Not with this one. Fastball.”

“Zeke’s more strategic than that. No one else on their team has gotten a hit all day. He won’t risk that happening again in the final inning.”

“No one else getting a piece of him means he has something to prove.”

“Winning proves that better.”

Nothing new at all, except Armin wasn’t sitting with a bunch of people who didn’t care about how their genius pitcher won them the game. He was sitting next to Ymir, a bunch of twigs in the shape of a diamond resting etween them, small gouges in the splintered stands where they’d jabbed in larger sticks to make their points earlier.

“What do you think, Eren?” Ymir’s voice broke into his lazy contentment. “How much of a prideful prick is big brother?”

Eren looked over at the mound, where he hadn’t had to all game with the commentary running by his ears. Where Zeke stood as the king of his domain. Steady and calm to anyone who did think to look. “Fastball.”

Armin objected. “It’s the ninth inning, it doesn’t make any sense to—”

The pitch left Zeke’s hand. Straight as an arrow. Hammering into the catcher’s mitt. In three of the movies that had somehow survived their list purges, this was where the stadium would go silent before the crowd erupted in cheers.

They weren’t in a stadium, and there wasn’t a crowd.

Armin sighed, his careful placement of twigs slipping back down to the ground.

Ymir clucked her tongue. “You hate to see it.”

“They won,” Eren said, unhelpfully. Armin’s heavier sigh made the whole diamond shine brighter. Past tolerable. Put with Ymir’s rolling eyes and Mikasa jogging to the outfield to walk in with Historia, it hit somewhere closer to whatever Zeke saw whenever he stepped up to the mound.

Whatever it was that made showing up worth it. Eren had never understood as a kid, stuck in the bleachers with his grandparents. Finally being let into the dugout didn’t make it any better, even when it should have. Getting a taste when he was back to the bleachers while the teams shook hands wasn’t something he would have thought to look for.

The baseball part was still dumb.

Ymir’s elbow jabbed his ribs and pointed at Mikasa. “That’s the cat friend?”

Eren pushed her back into Armin’s section of bench. “We told you that was her when she got the grand slam.” All four runs on the board were thanks to Mikasa.  Armin had jumped to his feet to cheer for her. The guy walking his dog nearby knew who Mikasa was, and Ymir was paying more attention.

She didn’t snipe back. She dropped Reiner’s sunglasses on his head and kept staring out at the field. Historia had spent most of the game out of range. Every few shook hands she glanced over her shoulder, but Ymir didn’t so much as twitch at the extra attention. She was watching Mikasa. The hand she’d dropped to the bench was digging into the splintered edge.

She’d used that hand to text him at four in the morning.

“You’re nervous,” Eren said abruptly.

Ymir scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Eren looked at Armin for confirmation. Armin’s wide eyes darted between them, Ymir stubbornly staring at the back of Mikasa’s head as she hit the end of the line. After a stalled second that said everything, he shrugged diplomatically.

Eren spun back to Ymir. “You are.”

“Right, because meeting up with your friends really earned its spot on my dayplanner,” Ymir said, unclenching her fist enough to lean back on the next row of bleachers. It didn’t look as casual as she thought it did.

Armin tried to help. “Mikasa’s not that scary once you get to know her,” he said. “She’s amazing at everything, and that can intimidate some people, but—”

“I am not intimidated,” Ymir declared. “From everything you nerds have told me her cat’s scarier than she is.”

“Rivaille’s…” Armin’s defense fell short. “A rescue,” he said at last.

Eren picked his dropped thread back up. “If you’re not intimidated, what are you nervous about?”

“Are your ears broken?” Ymir said. “I’m not nervous.”

“You’re breaking the seats with your hand.”

She stole her sunglasses back and pointed them at him. “All that says is your brother should pick a better park to play at.”

“The league figures that out.”

“They’re walking over,” Armin said.

Eren and Ymir shut up. Ymir’s face had lost the shade of color Historia usually gave her, and maybe there was something wrong with that, but the only other time Eren had seen her in a social situation she wasn’t in control of, she’d started crying. Maybe she was just like this with new people.

Historia didn’t have the extra bounce Ymir usually gave her, either. But anything could take away Historia’s good mood, and Ymir was more like her everything.

Mikasa looked like Mikasa. She wasn’t someone to be nervous over.

“C’mon,” Eren said, wrenching Ymir’s arm out of the splinters. “Get up and say hi.”

Ymir flicked him off and tromped down the stands. Armin was biting back a smile. Eren held out a hand and swung him to his feet, following Ymir without helping her grow any of the cracks in the wood.

Like magnets, Historia fell into Ymir’s orbit instantly, and any of Mikasa’s intimidation factor that Ymir had made up evaporated. Ymir slid Reiner’s sunglasses down over her eyes and looked Historia and her haphazardly dusted uniform up and down.

The color came back, and Ymir coughed into her hand. “Shouldn’t have swung at that ball in the fifth,” she said.

Historia’s whole face twitched in exasperation. “I thought I could reach it.”

Ymir grinned and hooked a finger around one of her sleeves, pulling her close enough for Armin to carefully switch his gaze to Eren’s shoulder. “With these nubs?” she asked. “Has anyone tried to ship you off to little league yet?”

“She throws too hard.”

Mikasa’s quiet insertion drew all eyes to her.

Stable and calm, she wasn’t at all put off by Ymir, or Historia’s cleat digging into Ymir’s shoe. Which she noticed. And smiled at. She’d had worse. For as long as Eren had known her. If the shame didn’t steel out the words, he could have told Ymir that.

Ymir shot Eren a look, a leering smile mocking him. “I’ve heard that.” Then she switched back to Mikasa, and the person who manned an entire household she didn’t live in gleamed under her stolen sunglasses. She stuck out her hand.

“Ymir.”

Mikasa silently looked between Ymir and Historia’s proximity and Eren.

She took Ymir’s hand.

“Eren’s friend,” she said.

Ymir bristled, but next to her, Historia’s eyes did the sunburst thing Armin’s did. Those moments that wiped everything else away, because the world stopped and paid attention when it noticed someone with the brightness to change it was waking up.

They’d lived together for months. He didn’t think he’d ever seen her happy before.

Defensive tension leaked out of Ymir like a beach balloon. She saved the last of it for a pointed scowl in Eren’s direction before dropping out of the handshake and turning away from all of them. Stuttering somewhat when Historia’s hand quietly took up the residence Mikasa’s had been thrown from.

“I guess,” Ymir said shortly. “Your boy’s okay.”

Eren’s ears burned, and he glared at the backstop. Armin’s soft laugh and Mikasa’s audible smile did not make the burning go away. It just went other places and was even harder to ignore.

“Yeah, well. You’re… fine,” he said.

The brutal, heated silence of embarrassment continued. Everyone else didn’t mind. His eyes flicked up and made the mistake of catching Mikasa’s.

Affection spilled out freely from her. Genuine and familiar. Warmer than she’d been with him even before everything fell apart. She made the blood rushing to his head feel like it was allowed to be there, and maybe wasn’t ever going to leave.

Mikasa was fine too.

----

“Are you doing okay with all of that?”

There were questions Eren had learned to put up with. Questions from Reiner had been an early test of that. Strung out and on fire, he could break Reiner’s face open for talking at all, or suck it up and learn how to be human again.

Figuring out answers to the questions wasn’t the same thing.

“Huh?” Eren said.

They were outside Reiner’s house, waiting on Ymir. She’d gotten a text from Historia on her way to pick up her helmet and the world went on pause.

“With that,” Reiner said, pointing over his shoulder at the front door.

The front door stayed a front door.

“With what?” Eren asked blankly.

“With Ymir and Historia being a thing,” Reiner said. Before Eren could add another ‘what,’ the words kept going. Reiner was at his most earnest this morning, and he bridged the gap between their bikes with a creak of metal and sincerity that Eren didn’t want. “Third wheeling can be rough.”

Eren was a morning person. It was too early for this. He said, “I’m fine.”

Reiner’s open sympathy didn’t falter. Under the dark circles and the bunched tendons in his arms that still didn’t know how to relax, there was nothing but plain, unnecessary compassion. “I talked it over with Bert and Marcel, and everyone’s fine with you rooming here.”

Anything Eren could say or wanted to be confused by got lost in syrup and waffles and the inevitable. He unclamped his hands from his bicycle and rubbed away the red indents before they were visible to anyone but him. “I have a room.”

A nice room. With sheets that had made it through two homes he wasn’t going back to. He wasn’t going to volunteer a third. “And they wouldn’t just kick me out,” Eren added, a phantom of Ymir’s hand ruffling his hair.

Reiner held one of his elbows in a way Eren had etched into his head from Historia. “No,” he agreed. “They’re not like that. They’re too used to us to ask. But for guys like us, it’s hard not to help out.” His bike shifted under him. He didn’t lean in any closer, but the world around them closed. “Only guys like us don’t do well on our own.”

Eren stayed quiet. His tongue was fuzzy. The way it had been when he woke up in the hospital. He didn’t know why he’d decided to like that feeling.

“I just wanted you to know you don’t have to go backwards,” Reiner said after a moment or two. “That’s all.”

It wasn’t that cold, but the heat in Eren’s ears still stung more than anything. He stared squarely at the ground, where a pillbug was scrunching down the sidewalk. Petra and months of encouragement didn’t make the improvement feel good. Just necessary enough to be weird.

“Thanks,” he said.

Reiner clapped him on the back hard enough to leave marks on both of them.

[next]

#drug au #fic #mine #long post

[keelywolfe]

Drabble: Having Relations

Summary:  It's never good news when Red wants to have a conversation, no, but Stretch knows funny when he sees it.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationship, Fluff, Domestic, Humor, Red is a Brat and Deserves What He Gets, Chickens!!

Notes: Look, I laughed. That’s all I can say.

part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

Stretch was honestly starting to wonder if spring was ever coming. He understood the science behind the weather reports, but even with all the technology Humans had, they could be irritatingly vague.

At least in the Underground, you had a pretty good idea of what the hell you were getting into. Snowdin equals snow, Waterfall equals wet, Hotland equals horrible terrain where no one should exist. It was nice and straightforward.

Then again, being Aboveground was worth it for the sun.

It was shining down today despite how chilly it was and Stretch might tuck his hands into his hoodie, but he always let the sunshine fall on his skull.

The chickens didn’t give a damn what the weather was. All they wanted was to be out of the coop, pecking around the yard and clucking eagerly for scritches that Stretch was happy to give.

They tended to cluster around his feet. Nugget always had to check and make sure his shoelaces hadn’t become edible since last they’d met and when she discovered yet another day of disappointment, she joined the others hopefully scrounging for any bugs that might have come back early from winter vacation.

Watching them always filled him with a kind of contentment. He leaned back in his chair and lit a cigarette, then called out, “quit watching me like a creeper and come sit down.”

With a muted pop, Red appeared in the chair next to him. “eh, i wasn’t being a…hey!”

He stood up abruptly and made a decent attempt to glare at the chair and Stretch at the same time.

“don’t look at me, if you’d spied on me sooner, you would’ve seen me wipe my chair off.” He tossed the damp cloth over to Red. “what’s up?”

Red gave the chair a cursory swipe then sat back down. His scowl vanished into a toothy grin. “can’t i check in on my bro-in-law without an ulterior motive?”

“you never have before, why start now?”

“fair enough.” Red pulled one of his nasty ass cigars out of his jacket and Stretch handed over his lighter with a sigh. The chickens investigated Red's shoelaces hopefully while he lit it, blowing out a cloud of smoke. “you’re kind of the monster unofficial social media mogul, yeah?”

“dunno if i’d call it that,” Stretch said warily. It was never a good thing when Red started asking questions like that.

Red only nodded. “you ever google yourself?”

“doesn’t everyone? nothing wrong with a little ego surfing, i—" Stretch stopped and gave him a narrow look.

Red gave off an appearance of bland disinterest, which completely meant he was hiding something. His expressions were always twice removed and turned sideways from what he was actually feeling, so Red was either worried or pissed, hell, maybe uncomfortable, what the fuck—

Oh.

“you wanna know if i’ve seen the porn!” Stretch said gleefully. “holy shit, yes! humans have some vivid imaginations, don’t they?”

“vivid,” Red muttered sourly. Normally Red wore a grin of some sort, cocky and all-knowing. To see him looking like he’d swallowed one of his own stanky-ass boots sideways was a rare gift.

“there’s some pretty good likenesses, too, some of those artists have talent.” Stretch propped his chin on a hand. Unlike Red, he was more than happy to show his true emotions, particularly when they took the form of a maniacal grin. Besides, if you got a chance to stick someone, may as well twist the knife. “good thing they like to pair me up with my husband, am i right? although a quick google search could probably find some variety…”

Wow, so that was what incoming murder looked like in Underfell. Good thing Edge would be more than a little annoyed if Red killed him.

“what did you stumble across?” Stretch needled gleefully. “little painting of your bro and i playing pokey pokey? hiding the sausage? riding the magic pogo stick?”

As delightful as the spreading horror over Red’s face was, Stretch figured that was a good place to stop. Probably wouldn’t do to have Red start calling one of those hitmen he had on speed dial.

Red drew hard on his cigar, burning half of it in one inhale, and on the exhale, he grumbled out. “don’t matter.”

“oh, come on, you can’t tell me that and then don’t show me!” Stretch whined. Better to try that first; bribery should always be the third step. “really? that’s just cruel, give me something for the spank bank.”

He really didn’t think Red would, so when he silently handed over his phone, grimacing in disgust, Stretch snatched it gleefully. But he made sure not to swipe, because therein probably lay nightmares that could not be unseen.

Stretch blinked. “oh. uh, wow.”

He turned the phone to the side. Then upside down. Then right side up again. “the scientist in me would like to point out that this isn’t physically possible, especially when you take gravity into account. on the other hand, points for creativity and it’s a hell of a likeness. like looking in a mirror if i ever wanted to get a side job as a pornographic contortionist.”

Red snorted and shook his head. “the likeness of my bro isn’t very good.”

“yeah, but i never post pics of his face. they can only work with what they’ve got. not that it matters, can’t see his face from around my—“

“i can see what it is, thanks,” Red interrupted loudly. He reached down towards the chickens and Stretch didn’t realize he’d tensed until Red only scratched Dumpling gently. His lady cooed and leaned into the scritches, disloyal brat.

“not like you can miss it. they sure give me some credit, don’t they.” He handed the phone back. “send me the link to that?”

“yeah, yeah. fucking pervert. take it so i can go bleach my phone.” He waited while Stretch happily saved it. “gonna show him?”

“oh, yeah,” Stretch drawled, rolling his eye lights. “i’m going to bring up the pornscapades of our artistic doppelgängers right about never.” He ticked off on each finger, scattering ash from his cigarette, “he’ll either ignore it, silently hate it, or burn the internet down to get rid of it and i’m not about to let him start a technological apocalypse just because some dirty-minded humans have ideas about how skeletons get busy.”

“get busy? you always seemed more like the lay-there-and-take-it type, but what do i know.”

“probably too much as it is,” Stretch raised a brow bone curiously. “you gonna bring it up to him?”

“not before i get to watch the new season of game of thrones.”

The sliding glass door opened, and Edge stuck his head out. The chickens made a beeline to him instantly, even as he called out, “If you two are finished discussing your nefarious deeds, lunch is ready.”

He shut the sliding door before the chickens could run inside.

Red and Stretch shared a silent look, and when Red extended a challenging pinkie, Stretch hooked it with his own and shook.

No telling Edge about the porn. Deal.

-finis-

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #by any other name #underfell sans #my emotional support skellies #chickens!!

[zephfair]

Grimmjow, accidental beauty blogger?

Inspired by my own stupid post and @the8thsphynx priceless comment. I was hit by the crack fairy after I realized that I had no idea how Pinterest actually works, so I made this up as I went. And thanks to my friend @dreamywritingdragon I even figured out my Pinterest name! xD I’m dumb.

The vibration of his phone woke Grimmjow with a snort. He opened one gummy eye just enough to squint as he fished under his pillow for the phone. For fuck’s sake, who the hell messaged him at the crack of 1 p.m. on a Sunday?

His head throbbed from the weekend’s parties as he finally held the phone, but peeling his other eye open didn’t help the messages make sense.

Yuzulemon: HI! I really love your stuff, your hair is so pretty! The color is beautiful and it looks so soft! I just wondered if you have any advice for keeping it long? Like, I’m trying to convince my brother to grow his out but he says it would be too much trouble?

Yuzulemon: Also you’re really cute trying out the makeup. You go, boy! That green really suits you!

Both messages were sprinkled with emojis, but Grimmjow still couldn’t understand. They were sent to his personal Jmail account, but he’d never heard of the chick. So he ignored it and rolled over, but the phone vibrated again.

Yuzulemon: Sorry to keep bothering you, but how long did it take to get your hair that long? I think if I can get my brother past the first stage so he can pull it up, he’ll be OK. Did you do ponytails a lot? Or man-buns? It looks nice the way you have it now too!

Grimmjow had enough.

BigBadGrimm: STFU I don’t know who the fuck you are but leave me alone.

He’d just dozed back off when the phone vibrated in his hand. Groaning, he swiped the message open but this time it was from another account.

Oneberry: Hey asshole, that’s my sister you upset. Don’t be a dick and stop posting shit of yourself if you don’t want comments on it.

Posting shit? What? Grimmjow managed to sit up against the bed’s headboard and swallow a few times to fend off the nausea. He’d had a good weekend, a big party Friday night at a sorority and another huge party Saturday, first at a bar and then finishing at the house he shared with friends. They didn’t join a fraternity, but they nicknamed the house Hueco Mundo and they definitely knew how to party.

Grimmjow vaguely remembered getting into a fight with Nnoitra and Szayelaporro about something, but that wasn’t unusual. They were usually pissing each other off over anything from who ate what food to putting the moves on the wrong person someone else had called dibs on.

He definitely didn’t have any recollection of posting anything online last night.

He thumbed out a reply: Fuck you. And your sister.

Since he was awake and cranky, Grimmjow swept through the rest of his Jmail account and saw a series of mails from Wintrest. Wasn’t that the site that suburban moms used to look at pictures of food and house shit? Grimmjow had certainly never even glanced at the site, let alone signed up for an account.

Only he had. Or someone had. There was a welcome email and a verify-the-account email, both of which were marked read. Grimmjow scowled at the screen as he saw recommended lists for him to check and then, to his growing horror, several reactions to “his” posts.

“Oh shit,” he grumbled as he opened one. Then his messenger vibrated with a message.

Oneberry: You don’t get to say that. That’s my sister, you despicable sack of shit. Hdu. You’re an asshole and I’ll post this so everyone can see your asshole ways.

BigBadGrimm: Go ahead, what do I care

The first post Grimmjow opened made him swear loudly. The picture had been taken his first year at university, when he’d still had the super-long hair that he always loudly claimed gave him the most energy and power. His friends had mocked him ruthlessly so he’d cut it off eventually, but he remembered doing that pose one night, looking back over his shoulder, smirking for the camera, all his luscious, wavy hair flowing down his back. It was that bitch-ass Szayel who’d taken it.

To his extreme amazement and annoyance, the picture had already been liked seven times. Under it, with the badly misspelled mess characteristic to Nnoitra, was something about washing his hair only in seltzer water because the bubbles gave it body.

He snarled and went to the next one and the next. Most of them were his long hair in various stages, when it seemed like it had a mind of its own. Each had some asinine “advice” like only washing it when the moon was full or dipping it in beer in between so it could drink and be bouncy.

Then he saw one that he knew Ulquiorra had taken in their dorm bathroom freshman year. Grimmjow had his hair pulled back off his face with a thick headband and the rest tied up sloppily on his head as he leaned over the sink brushing his teeth, his eyes gazing into the mirror.

Under that were some suggestions on maintaining the whitest teeth with frequent brushing and even more applications of liquor. Grimmjow gnashed his teeth as if he imagined them biting into a certain someone’s tender white throat.

His traitorous phone vibrated twice.

Oneberry: You’re at Karakura right? I’ll find your ass and make you sorry. Dick. My sister was just trying to be nice.

Oneberry: You don’t even look good. Who the fuck grows their hair into a mullet that long?

Grimmjow pinched his nose. The last few pics were more recent. They were from gatherings all over campus, with him in various stages of undress, showing his current hair and trademark grin, although he noticed his “friends” had been carefully cropped out of each shot. The last one from Halloween was a video and he steeled himself to press the play arrow.

It was only a few seconds of when he’d been beside Szayel at a mirror, sarcastically narrating the process as he applied the makeup for his costume. He winced at his affected voice as he swiped green eyeshadow in exaggerated swirls all around his eyes and pouted for the camera that he knew was being held by Nnoitra.

There was only one thing to do.

Those bastards were dead.

Of course they had just used his phone to log in to Jmail, so they didn’t even have to make up new accounts. If Grimmjow hadn’t been so hungover and so angry, he might have admired that they’d actually taken that much time and trouble to fuck him over. But he didn’t care about that; he just wanted to wring their necks.

Then he realized that there were a couple comments under most of the pictures, and every single one of them was positive. Even the one that some dickwad posing as him—it had Nnoitra all over it—claimed he used jizz to keep his hair in its current coiffed position. The Yuzulemon girl had given it heart-eyes and a laugh then a thumbs-up.

Well, didn’t Grimmjow feel like a dick now.

He slowly and carefully composed a message to Yuzulemon, carefully watching the autocorrect.

Hey, sorry I didn’t know about the pics on Wintrest. I didn’t post them. Some guys did it as a joke. I just woke up and found out. I’m sorry I yelled at you.

He hit send and then quickly opened another message. Thank you for the nice things you said. If you really do have questions about hair, I could try and answer. I let mine grow all through high school. I cut it off last year.

He waited a moment in silence then even more slowly typed, erased and retyped a message to Oneberry.

Hey, sorry about before. My friends made that account to fuck me over. I didn’t know. I apologized to your sister. I shouldn’t have been such an asshat to her.

While he chewed at his thumbnail and waited for a reply, he re-read what Oneberry had sent him more closely.

WTF how do you know I’m at Karakura? You go here too?

There were no replies and Grimmjow was forced to answer the call of nature and retreat to the bathroom. He didn’t run into any of his housemates so he took a long shower before heading back to his room. He was getting dressed and debating what he wanted to try eating when his phone finally buzzed.

Maybe Yuzulemon and Oneberry had needed time to talk to each other. Maybe they were reporting him to someone. Maybe their family had a weird obsession with fruit.

Grimmjow snatched the phone quickly to see a message from Oneberry.

You’re a sick fucker and your friends are worse. Too bad all that hair must have smothered your good manners.

Well, it looked like his very sincere apology wasn’t going to be accepted. He sent back a single character—the middle finger emoji.

He’d just pulled on his shirt when his phone went off. This time he sat down to read the message from Yuzulemon.

That sucks! Your friends are mean! But you could have explained that before you went off on me.

He answered immediately. I know. I’m sorry. Your messages woke me up and I didn’t know what was going on.

Yuzulemon: Well next time you should think before you hit send.

Grimmjow grimaced at the string of emojis, but he had to admit the kid was right.

Yeah, ok, he wrote back.

Yuzulemon answered quickly. Sorry that my brother went after you. He was sitting here when I got your reply and he’s kinda Big Brother sometimes. He goes to Karakura too.

Grimmjow just had to ask. How do you know where I go to school?

Yuzulemon: *series of laughing emojis* We live in Karakura and your pics showed campus in the background.

Yuzulemon: Oops, not your pics but the pics you were in. My bro is a freshman.

Well, at least that explained that. He felt a little better that they hadn’t actually stalked him or anything.

Nice. I’m a junior.

Yuzulemon: Do you have a gf? Bf?

Grimmjow stared at his phone and didn’t know how to answer. He was definitely not into high school or younger girls, which she must be if her “big” brother was only a freshman.

Then his phone vibrated in a fury.

Oneberry: YUZU WTF

Oneberry: WHAT ARE YOU DOING QUIT TALKING TO HIM

And Grimmjow realized Yuzulemon had been copying Oneberry in on their latest conversation. Shit.

Yuzulemon: It’s OK! He’s nice!

Grimmjow quickly typed I only date guys. There, that should get the brother off his back before he blew his top again.

Yuzulemon: Cool, you should get together with Ichi and talk him into letting his hair grow. I think he would look SO GOOD with long hair like yours.

Oneberry: YUZU IM NOT KIDDING IM BREAKING INTO YOUR ROOM STOP IT

Grimmjow couldn’t help a laugh. I don’t think your brother would like that.

Yuzulemon: Why not? You could at least tell him what a tattoo feels like. He’s always threatening Dad that he’s going to get one but Dad won’t let him.

How do you know about my tattoos?

Yuzulemon: I could see them peeking out from under your hair in the shirtless pics!

Oneberry: YUZU IM TELLING DAD IF YOU DONT OPEN THIS DOOR RIGHT NOW

Grimmjow felt weirdly exposed.

Yuzulemon: Here’s a pic I took of Ichigo last week.

Grimmjow felt something totally different when the picture loaded.

Oneberry: NEVERMIND IM CLIMBING THE TREE AND BUSTING THE WINDOW IF I HAVE TO STOP TALKING TO THIS FREAK

This Ichigo had a killer six-pack and was holding up the bottom of his T-shirt to show it off. His mouth was open in a scowl as if he were telling the picture taker not to do it. The picture cut off at his nose, but Grimmjow liked what he saw.

Yuzulemon: Why don’t you two meet up for coffee tonight? He’s usually only in class or at the gym but I think he needs more friends.

Yuzulemon: He won’t admit it, but I think he likes your hair too. *series of winky and kissy faces*

Grimmjow rubbed his hand over his face. This was the strangest and most bizarre way he’d ever been set up in his life, but damn if he didn’t almost want to meet the guy.

I don’t think we have much in common. Thanks anyway.

Yuzulemon: Don’t say that! He likes reading and music and mixed martial arts and all kinds of fun stuff!

Oneberry: SO HELP ME YUZU IF I FALL OUT THIS TREE

Yuzulemon: Here’s his number. Text him directly. I have to go see if he really fell. Maybe you could visit him in the hospital!

Grimmjow let out a long breath and barked another laugh.

But he saved the number. Just in case.

And he clicked on the link Yuzu provided to go to her Wintrest page. After a few minutes of looking through the recipes and desserts she’d apparently tried and succeeded at, he followed her. Since his “friends” had been so kind to make him an account, he might as well not let it go to waste.

He stripped his shirt back off, pulled his jeans down low on his hips and with some twisting and fumbling, managed to take a good picture of one of his back tattoos with his own smirk visible in the mirror. It didn’t take long for him to figure out how to upload it to Wintrest with a special comment.

Don’t have much to say about hair or makeup, but I do like tattoos and working out. And I could give advice to any dumbass trying to climb a tree—DON’T.

He didn’t even have to wait a minute before Yuzulemon liked his post and gave it about a hundred heart eyes.

Ego properly stoked, Grimmjow pocketed his phone when he heard the shouting and slamming doors that indicated some of his housemates returning from wherever. After he dealt them a righteous retribution of asskicking, he might just text Ichigo. He couldn’t be as bad as Grimmjow’s own friends, could he?

#my fic #crack fic #i'm sorry #i just had this mental picture and i couldn't help myself #my apologies to the8thsphynx #i'm sorry i couldn't write you anything better

[thedexdays]

Snapchat Scandals

Day One of NurseyDex week! I’m so happy to be participating in this week. Thank you to the lovely people for organizing this. :D

I also took inspiration from this post. I hope I did the prompt justice :)

Day One: Getting Together

---

If it hadn’t been for the new Snapchat update, Will might have never found out.

Tristan had said that he had to go to San Diego for work, some sort of client meeting, which was why it had to be on a weekend. Will had kissed him goodbye Friday morning and watched him drive off, leaning against the doorframe of his house, spatula in hand.

Later that night, Will was half watching one of the Die Hard movies and snap chatting Chris, a work colleague who he had played hockey against during college.

Did u c the new snap update? Chris sent, a pic of the Sharks game in the background.

Will sent back a pic of his feet up on his coffee table. Nope, what is it?

After a moment, Chris sent a screenshot of a map, Bitmoji characters scattered across the screen. His was circled. I c u bro.

Will laughed, taking a quick selfie. Stalker. (How did u do that tho??)

He sent back a demonstration video, with a chirp at the bottom. Damn an engineer couldn’t figure out the newest snap update. #imposter

Will sent back a pic of the laughing/crying emoji over his entire face. Whoops, I’ve been made.

He swiped across the screen like Chris showed him and found Chris’s bitmoji character. He was about to take a screenshot and send it back to him before he saw Tristan’s character. It wasn’t at the airport, or anywhere close to the airport. He zoomed in.

According to the Snapchat map, Tristan was at the Keg Restaurant downtown, which didn’t make any sense. He was supposed to be on a flight to San Diego right now. It left, Will checked his watch, two hours ago. He didn’t have any texts from Tristan saying that his flight was delayed. What was going on?

He closed Snapchat and reopened it, but Tristan’s little Bitmoji icon was still there.

Maybe the update was so new that there were bugs in it?

He narrowed his eyes and grunted, frustrated. No, no way it would be that wrong.

He took a screenshot and texted Chris.

Will: *sent a photo*

Will: any chance snap could get T’s location that wrong??

Chris: Uh where is he supposed to be?

Will: On his way to San Diego

Will watched the little bubble at the bottom of the screen with baited breath. It popped up and disappeared in quick succession a few times. Chris seemed to be having trouble coming up with something to say. Will’s heart sank; he could guess what his friend was thinking.

Chris: No. It wouldn't be that wrong.

Will sighed, slumping forward on the couch so that his elbows were resting on his thighs. His phone buzzed.

Chris: I’m getting in my car now. B at your house in 10. We’re going to find him.

Will’s eyebrows shot up.

Will: Wait C what?

Will: Is that necessary?

Will: What if it’s nothing??

If they went and tried to find him, then it wasn’t nothing. It meant that Chris didn’t think that it was nothing. Will stared at his phone. Did he think it was nothing?

“No. No this isn’t nothing,” he said to his empty house. He looked up and out his living room window at the dark summer night sky. “It’s not nothing…”

He ran a hand through his hair and took a steadying breath, getting up off the couch. He grabbed his keys and wallet before opening, and locking, his front door. He sat down on the stoop to wait for Chris.

He turned his phone over in his hand. He couldn’t come up with a logical excuse as to why Tristan would have lied about the flight, and probably the whole meeting, that didn’t make his heart hurt or spike his anger.

Has he done this before?

Tristan had gone away last month for a five day trip over a weekend as well, and he and Will didn’t see each other every day. They were both busy people. Will bit his lip. Could Tristan be cheating on him regularly?

Will gasped, shoving the traitorous thought away. No . There was no way Tristan would be cheating on him.

He wasn’t that type of guy. Tristan was sweet and kind and had an adorable dog who he adored. He called Will to wish him good night, and when Will had been pulling his hair out with anxiety during the engineering firm’s expansion, he had been a solid rock even though they had only been dating three months. He had met Will’s family and they all seemed to like him… Will paused. His grandmother, who was the best judge of character Will knew, hadn’t liked him though.

Will made a noise of frustration. He leaned his elbows on his knees and put his head in his hands, breathing slowly. There was no need to panic yet. No fucking need.

Headbeems swept over him on the steps and he looked up. Chris waved from the front seat of his truck and Will stood.

“C,” Will started, getting into the passenger seat. “I don’t- I have no idea what to expect. But I’m- I’m starting to expect the worst.”

Chris shot him a sympathetic look, backing out of Will’s driveway. “Look, Will, Tristan’s at a fancy restaurant on a night where he was supposed to be flying out to San Diego.” He hesitated, before continuing. “It could be a misunderstanding, but you… might have to prepare yourself for something- something worse.”

Will clutched the armrests and looked at Chris. “Do you think…” He trailed off, he couldn’t say it. Chris seemed to understand what he was asking though.

He sighed and nodded. “It’ll take us like 20 minutes to get to the restaurant. Why don’t you put some music on, any station you want, and take a minute to breathe. Whatever happens tonight, Will, you’re not alone.”

20 minutes later, they pulled into the Keg’s parking lot. It was a Friday night, so it was pretty packed. By this point, Will was teetering on the edge of fear and anger. Fear, because he thought that he might love Tristan and he wasn’t sure if he could handle seeing him with someone else, and anger that Tristan had the audacity to do this to him, to lie to him and probably be cheating on him, and for the possibility of breaking his heart.

He wasn’t that angry kid that he used to be in high school or college, but he could feel his temper now. Tonight it would probably make an appearance.

Chris killed the engine. “What’s the Snapchat map say?”

Will checked quickly, stomach sinking at what he saw. “He’s still here.”

Chris nodded and opened his door. Will did as well. He felt sort of like he was walking through water as he followed Chris to the Keg’s door. He heard Chris talking to the harried hostess and then saw her give him a pitying look. His stomach rolled, and he looked away.

Chris touched his arm and inclined his head towards the restaurant. “Melissa said that she’ll give us a quick look. She thinks that she saw him, but Will if you don’t want to anymore we can go. Or we can just look and then go back and you can bring it up on Monday. I’ll support you no matter what. I promise.”

His eyes were hard, but his voice was soft, and Will was so so happy to have him here at that moment. He was so thankful for his friend.

He cleared his throat. “No. No, I need to know tonight. I just need to know…”

Chris nodded and then he turned to Melissa. “Lead the way.”

She led them through the bar area and the main dining space, and up the stairs to a second level with fewer tables and more privacy. Will felt the breath leave him; Tristan had taken him here before for one of their first dates. They’d sat by the window right over… His mind stopped thinking. They were sitting at the exact same table that Tristan had taken him to a few months ago. They were holding hands, gazing into each other's eyes. Tristan said something and the other man laughed.

Will saw red.

He felt Chris’s hand on his arm, and he thought that he might be saying something to him, but he didn’t listen. He marched right over to their table and growled out, “You asshole .”

Tristan and the other man looked up at him. Tristan paled, the other man looked confused.

“You absolute fucking asshole. What the fuck? How could you?” Will heard his voice rising, and knew that other tables were looking over at them, but he didn’t care.

Tristan held up a hand, seemingly unsure of what to do. “I- Will- How did you-”

Will cut him off. “You told me that you were going on a business trip to San Diego this weekend. This doesn’t look like any business trip I’ve ever seen,” he hissed, gesturing to the other man.

“I’m not business, I’m his boyfriend. Who the fuck are you?” the other man asked, starting to look angry.

“William Poindexter. I’ve been dating his asshole for five months, but this is officially the end of our relationship.”  He picked up Tristan’s wine glass, and the other man’s glass of water and then dumped both on their heads, slamming the glasses down with a bang.

Chris gasped behind him, Tristan spluttered out a few curse words and the other man stared at him in shock.

“Have a good fucking night,” Will growled, and then he turned on his heel and left.

Will saw Chris talking to Melissa, and a small part of him felt that he should apologize for the mess he made but the rest of him wanted to leave quickly. He was so fucking done with this shitfest. Tonight had been awful.

After he thundered down the stairs, Chris fell into step beside him.

Neither of them spoke before they got back to the car. Chris started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot. Will stared out the side window. He felt numb; all the fight had died in him. He felt empty, and like he needed to sleep for a month.

“Do you want to crash at my house tonight?” Chris asked quietly.

Will looked at him. His face was set in a tiny frown, face creased in concern.

“Yeah, please.” And then he started to cry.

---

Some days were harder than others.

Some days Will would throw himself into his work and curse Tristan all he wanted and swear he was better off without him. Those days he actually felt like he meant it. He’d go out with friends and laugh and actually forget about him for a while.

Some days, Will couldn’t do any of that. It was those days where he would watch sad movies and try not to cry and feel so so sad and hurt. He couldn’t understand how Tristan could do this to him. Or why he had done this to him. Those were the days where he would facetime his sisters or Mom and let them comfort him, because he needed it.

Slowly, he started having more good days than bad, and he slowly forgot more and more about Tristan and their relationship. It helped that work kept him busy, and that Chris was more than happy to hang out with him, and the fact that the gym by his house was open at 5:30am everyday and didn’t close until 10pm. He learned to distract himself, and keep himself busy, until suddenly he found that he didn’t need to anymore. He didn’t need the constant distraction. It still hurt, thinking about Tristan, but it was a dull ache, like someone poking at a scar, instead of the searing pain it once used to be.

He didn’t think the dull ache was going away anytime soon, but Will could live with it. He was learning to live with it.

Four months after the Incident, as Will had taken to calling it, he went out to a bar with Chris and a few work friends.

He was having a good day, a really good day. They had just finished a major project at work and his boss was over the moon, and Will thought, thinking about giving everyone bonuses.

And he had joined a community hockey league with Chris, and fallen in love with hockey all over again. It wasn’t as competitive as the NCAA team he had played for during college, but holy shit it felt good to have the ice under his feet again. And Chris was such a good goalie.

So yeah, he was having a really good day, and he sort of wanted to find someone to take home. He was ready to finally move on and close the door on Tristan and their relationship.

He was at a corner table with his bros, everyone laughing at a story that Andy was telling about a missing pool noodle and the hottest girl he had ever seen, but Will wasn’t really paying attention. He was half watching the Habs vs Pens game on the TV above the bar, absentmindedly sipping his beer, lost in thought.

He felt Chris nudge his foot and tilt his chin over to two girls at a tall table in the middle of the bar. They were looking at their table, and when Will met their eyes they blushed and looked away.

He turned back to Chris. “You want to go talk to them?”

He shrugged, smile on his lips. “I mean, I wouldn’t say no? I think that the girl farthest from us is actually wearing a Shark’s t-shirt?”

Will laughed, setting his mostly empty glass down and getting out of the booth. “Come on, C. Get up.”

The other guys closest to them laughed, throwing some suggestions their way, and Chris gave them the middle finger good naturedly, before he and Will crossed the floor to the bar where the girls were.

Sure enough, the girl who Chris thought was sporting Shark merch was, and he grinned at her, offering her his hand.

“Hey, my name’s Chris and you have a very good taste in hockey teams. Can I buy you a drink?”

She grinned, shaking his hand. “I knew it! Oh- um,” she blushed and Chris smiled wider.  “Hi, my name’s Caitlin.” She hopped off the stool she was sitting on and nodded towards the bar. “And I’d love a drink.”

Will tried not to smile too wide as the two of them walked off towards the bar.

He turned back to the other girl, who was watching Chris and Cailin with a smile. She was gorgeous, all warm brown skin, shiny dark hair, and bright hazel eyes.

“Hey, I’m Will.”

“Naimah. And I’m sorry, you’re very handsome but,” she held up her left hand and he saw a wedding band on her ring finger. “I’m already taken.”

He laughed. “Congratulations. And well, I prefer men myself anyways.”

Her eyebrows rose ever so slightly, and she grinned. “Well, then I’ll introduce you to my brother, Derek. He went to the bathroom but he should be- oh, there he is. Derek!”

She waved to someone behind Will and he turned.

“Holy shit.”

He couldn’t believe it.

Derek, Will finally had a name for him, lost his smile as he stopped at their table. They stared at each other for a minute. Will was totally speechless.

“William Poindexter. This is a surprise,” Derek said, recovering first.

“I- Well-” Will spluttered, running a hand through his hair.

“Derek, what’s going on?” Naimah asked, eyes flicking between the two men.

“Give us a second Naimah, will you?” he asked, not taking his eyes off of Will.

She didn’t move until Derek looked at her and nodded. She pursed her lips together and got up, heading over to the bar.

“Umm,” Derek hesitated. “I guess- do you want to sit? We probably owe each other a discussion…” He trailed off.

Will nodded, pulling out a chair. He was still shocked, of all the bars in New York they really had to end up at the same one.

Derek laughed quietly, “Yeah, what are the odds right?”

“Oh, did I say that out loud?” Will asked, flushing.

“Yeah bro, you did.”

Neither said anything after that, and an awkward silence formed between them.

“I um- I’m sorry I dumped that drink on you,” Will blurted, ears turning red.

He silently groaned. Jesus Will, pull yourself together!

“Oh, no hard feelings. It um- Well, I understand why you did it.”

“Can I ask,” Will cleared his throat. This was an awkward question, but he wanted to know. “Ah, how long were you and him…” he trailed off.

Derek looked at him silently.

He started to panic. “I mean, you don’t ha-”

Derek interrupted him. “That was our third date. So it was still really new. I uh, didn’t stay long enough to let him explain anything though. I was too angry.”

Will nodded after a minute, he understood that feeling perfectly. His anger was gone now though, as well as most of the sadness. Will was ready to move on and this was good closure.

His eyes drifted down and he spotted the crest of a hockey association on Derek’s t-shirt. He squinted. Yeah, Will was pretty sure that he had played against that team recently.

“You play hockey?” Will heard himself asking.

Derek looked surprised, and glanced down at his t-shirt. “Oh, yeah I play defense for the Venom.”

Will smiled hesitantly. He had no idea what he was doing. “We played you guys like, three weeks ago? I play for Atomic.”

Derek’s eyes lit up with recognition. “Holy shit! I remember you guys! Your goalie was so fucking good bro. You sure he’s never gone pro?”

Will laughed, nodding towards the bar where Chris and Caitlin were talking. “Nope, he works with me. He played NCAA in college though, for Samwell. They won the championship under his captaincy in 2018.”

“I remember you too. D-man. Number 24. You blocked all of my fucking shots that night. And let me guess, you had to have played NCAA at some point too, right?”

“And you blocked all of mine! But yeah, I played for Boston.”

Derek laughed, “Shit, BU wow .”

Will rolled his eyes, grin firmly in place. “Who’d you play for, hmm?”

“Ah, well I played for Michigan.”

Will’s eyes widened, “No way! Your team was full of goons!”

“Well yeah, and enough actual skilled players, like yours truly, to win in 2016 and 2017. How many championships has BU won again?”

“Jesus. Chirp chirp chirp.”

They grinned at each other.

Will sat back. Derek was actually pretty great.

“Why don’t we start over,” Derek said, clearing his throat. He held out his hand. “Derek Nurse, nice to meet you.”

Will smiled, shaking his hand. “William Poindexter. Can I, um, can I buy you a drink?”

Derek smiled. “Yeah, I’d love one.”

---

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