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quiet-onset · 2 months

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seeking refuge

pairing: carmen berzatto x reader

wc: 1.5k

summary: carmy is having a day, and you want him to get lost in you.

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact!!!, unprotected sex, overstimulation (character and reader)

a/n: is this realistic? probably not. but that's why it's fanfiction! i truly do not remember writing most of this, but i was looking through my wips to find something work on and came across this already finished fic from last year lol. enjoy!

He had the look in his eye. That look had him curling in on himself, shoulders slumped as his mind ran wild. Every once in a while, he’d get lost in his own thoughts, a complete mashup of all the anxiety-inducing shit he’d ever encountered. Money, renovations, Michael, don’t miss NA meeting, walk-in door handle, Ma, menu, run menu ideas by Sydney, Sugar, and oh shit, Sugar’s baby, right, I’m an uncle—

“Carm?”

Like some sort of psuedo-siren, your voice called him back to stable ground, away from troubled waters. Still, he was merely wading when his eyes focused on you. His lips pulled up in an anxious smile, the best he could give you at the moment. “Hey, sorry, hey. I’m here.” He said, nodding his head. Then, his brow furrowed, and he shook away the confusion. “Wait, what are you doin’ here?”

“Richie called, said you might need the rest of the day off.”

Carm rolled his eyes and stood from the office chair, stepping past you to yell at Richie from the doorway. “Cousin!”

“Uh-uh, you are not fuckin’ up my flow today, cousin. I’m in the zone. Take that anxiety bullshit elsewhere, heard?” Richie dismissed him before he could make his defense.

“Hey, fuck you.”

“Yeah, yeah, fuck you, too. See ya tomorrow.” Richie replied. “I need hands, chefs!”

You chuckled behind Carm, wrapping your arms around his waist. You pressed your cheek against his back and immediately felt some of the tension there roll away. “That training did a number on him.” You commented.

“Too smart for his own good now.” Carmen added.

You leaned up to press a soft kiss against his ear. “Come home, bear.”

It was only a matter of time after that. He’d explained the issue on the way home, or at least tried to. “I dunno, there’s just too many thoughts and not enough time or space. Feel like my brain’s gonna fuckin’ explode, just get lost in my goddamn mind.”

He almost pulled over and dragged you into the backseat at your reply. “Get lost in me instead.”

And he did. He managed to keep himself contained long enough to get home, but once there, he wasted no time. A mere fifteen minutes later, and he had you on your back, legs spread about his waist as his thick, hard cock stretched you open. You held on for dear life as your pussy clenched around him, wet and sticky with your arousal.

“Fuck, you feel good, baby. ‘S exactly what I needed.” He panted. “So fuckin’ wet.”

You could barely form the words to respond, hips canting up with each thrust, chasing the pleasure. Not that it mattered to Carmen, he was content with the sweet moans and whimpers that fell without pause from your lips. He adored the sounds you made and strove to pull them out of you as he pounded you into the mattress. He stopped for a brief moment when he felt your walls tighten, groaning deep in his chest. One hand gripped at the back of your thigh and pushed, spreading you wider. The other slid forward until his elbow was pressed against the mattress next to your head, and he buried his face in your neck.

“Gonna make me come ‘f you keep squeezin’ like that, baby.” His lips brushed against your ear as he spoke, his breath hot and wet against your skin.

“Can’t he-help it.” You whined prettily. “Feels good. Please don’t stop, gonna come.”

“Yeah? Gonna come on this dick?” His hand reached down to toy with your clit, eyes rolling to the back of his head when you cried out his name.

All you could do is nod, your moans getting louder as your orgasm approached. And then, pleasure so good, tears pricked at your eyes. Your back arched, your breasts pressed into his chest, you moaned his name. That white-hot bliss pulsed in every part of you, almost like it was being torn from you. Your cunt clamped around him, and you’re sure if you looked down, a ring of your arousal would coat the base of his cock.

Like all he needed was your pleasure, his finish hit him like a truck seconds later. An unending string of fuck, fuck, fuck as he pumped his come into you, the white, warm streams of him coating your walls. His balls pulsed hard as he gave you long, slow strokes, the head of his cock nearly kissing your cervix with one particularly deep thrust.

And even though his pace had slowed, his hips didn’t stop. The overstimulation was starting to set in, your stomach flipping deliciously at the continuous pleasure. Still, he was strangely quiet, so you wanted to make sure he was okay.

“C-Carmy,” You whimpered out. “You still with me, bear?”

You expected a pause, a wait, but the answer was immediate. “‘F course I am. Nowhere else I’d rather be. Goddamnit.”

“Carmen?”

“Gotta have you again.”

You didn’t have time to process his words before he was pulling out of you and flipping you over. He hastily grabbed a pillow and lifted your hips to slide it under. Even in the orgasmic-haze that fogged his brain, he wanted to make sure you were comfortable. Still-hard cock in hand, he stroked himself firmly as he kneeled behind you. His free hand gripped at the fullness of your ass, pulling lightly until he could see the mess he’d made of your pussy, a mixture of yours and his come dripping out of you. It might've drenched the pillowcase, but the thought hadn’t even passed Carmen’s mind. He just leaned over you until his nose was buried in your hair, pressing himself into your sweet cunt once more. You let out a loud moan of his name, your tight walls still fluttering post-orgasm.

“Didn’t want your legs to get sore.” He mumbled as he started fucking you again, slow and deep. “Shit, I need to keep goin'. Need to fill you up again.”

“‘S too good, oh my god.” You cried out. At this angle, the tip of his cock brushed against your g-spot with every thrust.

“Gonna let me keep goin’, right? Let me keep fuckin’ my cock into you, fillin’ your sweet little cunt with my come? Gonna let me get lost in you, pretty girl?”

On one hand, you weren’t sure where this Carmen came from. It wasn’t like he was silent during sex, but he never talked this much. Never this filthy. It was like his pleasure controlled him, the overstimulation working double-time to control his body and mind at once. With every word, his pace got faster, his thrusts deeper, inhibiting your ability to speak.

It wasn’t made better when Carmen wrapped his arm around your neck, his bicep pressing lightly against your throat. A ragged gasp passed through your lips as he gave an experimental squeeze, timed perfectly with a deep thrust of his cock. He pressed his cheek against yours as you nodded eagerly, hoping the response would suffice.

“That’s it, baby, that’s fuckin’ it. So good to me all the goddamn time.” He groaned, hips bouncing off your ass with every thrust. “Pullin’ me out my head, makin’ me feel good. Perfect girl for me. Perfect girl with a perfect fuckin’ cunt, shit.”

He kept going and going and going, only relishing in a short rest each time. A setting sun and four orgasms later — five, for him — he was still burying his overstimulated cock in your overstimulated pussy. You were on your side now, facing him with your leg thrown over his hip. Each slow thrust of his dick and every pulse of your puffy cunt was laced with pain, but the pleasure was still there, too, making it hard to think. But for Carm, his mind was clear, the only thing left a vision of your sweaty face contorted with mind-numbing pleasure-pain.

One hand pulled you closer by your ass, the other brushing your hair off your sweaty forehead. “So pretty like this, baby. Could do this all fuckin’ day.”

“Carm, ‘s too much.” You gasped, eyes wide as you looked up at him. “Feels too good.”

He wiped a tear from your cheek, feeling his balls throb hard, almost painfully, as he plunged his cock deeper into you. “I know, I know. Just need another one, need to keep going till I’m fuckin’ empty. You can do that, right? You can take it.”

And sure, the overstimulation may have been clouding your judgment. But one look at his blue eyes, glazed over and needy, and you wanted to keep going. You wanted to lay there and let him take what he needed until he was spent, till all the anxious thoughts he ever had faded from memory. Your pussy tightened at the thought as you wondered how long it would take before he fucked his mind completely empty.

And just like that, he was coming again. Your sticky walls coaxed it out of him, pulsing around him until his hips stuttered. With the number of loads he’d already pumped into you, you couldn’t even feel the new warmth of his come. You only knew it was there when his cock pushed back inside, and come dribbled out of you and down your thigh.

And not a moment later, you were on your back again, and he was fucking you headfirst into your sixth orgasm. You and Carmen had a long night ahead of you.

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmy x reader #carmen berzatto fanfiction #the bear x reader #the bear fanfiction #the bear fx fanfiction #carmy berzatto smut #carmen berzatto smut #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto fanfiction

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penvisions · 9 days

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zest {chapter 1}

Pairing: Chef! Joel Miller x Professor! Reader (formally known as Bartender! Reader)

Summary: Changes are sudden, lifestyles are altered, and important questions bubble up but through it all, you have Joel by your side.

Word Count: 6.5k

Warnings: canon typical language, c'mon reader and joel have potty mouths, age gap (joel is mid 40’s / reader is late 20’s -early 30’s, protective joel, reader is canonically midsize, pregnant reader, surprise pregnancy, reader goes through nicotine withdrawal, smoking, cigarettes, nicotine use, lots of feelings, lots of emotions, complicated family dynamic, reader has family issues, death of a loved one, mention of life-threatening cancer, reader has religious guilt, restaurant lingo, triggers associated with the food industry, reader canonically has an eating disorder, mentions of therapy, references to time apart from each other, adult content, smut, piv, unprotected piv be safe y'all!), talk of marriage, adult conversations, joel and reader are down bad for each other.

REMINDER: this is a sequel series, the previous series can be found here {garnish}

A/N: THEY'RE BACK, BABY! ♡♡

ao3 link || series masterlist || masterlist || ko-fi

It’s the perfect spring day: sun shining in a warm but not hot brightness, a gentle breeze rustling the trees as you zip past them, an iced coffee, and the singing figure of Ellie in the passenger seat all make the first half of the day melt away. The amber of your sunglasses allows for everything to be swathed in the honeyed hue and you smile to yourself as you recall a rather heated comment from Joel ‘that every goddamn show feels so creative ‘n artsy when they slap the same tones over Mexico’ and then a softer set of words as he had cuddled closer to you on the couch ‘it’s not really like that, I’ve been there, darlin’, trust me’.

“What’re you all gooey lookin’ for, Sabrosa?” Ellie pauses to catch her breath between songs from the newest pop punk album from a band you first enjoyed in your teenage years. Unable to resist the temptation of adding it to your already laden down basket at the bookstore last week when you and the young girl had ditched Joel to run errands. “Ew, gross, don’t think about my dad while I’m sitting right next to you.”

“Oh hush,” You stuck your tongue out at her. Getting a kick out of how casually she sounded. It hadn’t ever been awkward between you two, or her and Sarah despite the six or so years between your birthdays. But then again, Sarah had let you into the secret of the older guy she had started seeing in her graduate program the last time she had been in town visiting… “It’s nothing dirty, just one of his many rants about my choice in television.”

“Lemme guess….oh! The washed-out way they show Mexico, huh? Cause you were watching…oh fuck, what’s that show called…”

“Breaking Bad.” Was the supplied answer from your lips as you turned on the turn signal and began to slow down to turn into the parking lot for the restaurant. It wasn’t operating hours quite yet, too early yet for the dinner crowd Joel preferred to cater to. But Ellie had a shift, and you were dropping her off after classes. She wasn’t in either of the ones you teach, having completed the two semester course you had started off with. But you both had a class that ended around the same time, living so close to the university, she liked being able to walk but then catch a ride with you. Tradition, the word rang in your head. Routine, followed it and you smiled wider at the way your life had fleshed out.

“That’s the one!” She exclaimed as she unbuckled the seatbelt and leaned back in her chair. “Man, I really don’t have the energy for work today, but the old man said we have a full reservation list and then open seating at the bar.”

“Gonna be that way for a while, the article about him came out only two months ago. Everyone’s clamoring for a chance to try the ‘bursting flavors’ and ‘exciting combinations’ of the renowned Chef Joel Miller.”

“Yeah, yeah. He’s hot shit right now, at least the restaurant is.” Reaching for her coffee in an imitation of you, she sipped at the whip cream, caramel whatever it is she had gotten. Coffee wasn’t her favorite, so she always got the espresso taken out, a glorified milkshake Joel had teased her once. “Proud of him, though. The restaurant was in shambles when he bought it from the previous owners, some shitty Italian place that never cleaned anything.”

“He’s done good.” You quietly agree, sipping from your own overly complicated drink. That was another tradition of yours and hers, to make your way through the menu at the coffee shops on campus, always pausing to get the special of the month. Joel claimed he didn’t understand the need for so much stuff mixed in with coffee, but you caught him stealing sips of yours if he were to come across it unattended around the house or when you were out and about with him and treated yourself.

“There’s my girls.” Joel chimes as you input your code into the gate for the employee parking and round the side of the building. His voice filtering in through the open windows as you pull into a spot and cut the engine. He’s leaned against the back of the building, cigarette in hand. “Was wondering what took you so long.”

“Accident on the main road, had to detour.” You appease as he approaches to open the door for you and pressed a greeting kiss to your cheek as you roll up the windows. He does the same for Ellie as she sidles up beside him for a side hug before trotting off to the door and disappearing through it. He let’s you pluck the lit cigarette from his fingers as you shoulder your bag and close the door. His hand goes around your waist to walk alongside you toward the building.

“As long as you two are safe, that’s all that matters. Today’s special is spaghetti all nerano, wanna do some grading here and try a plate?” He takes the smoking roll back from your offered hand and takes the last drag before tossing it into the pale beside the door. Opening it and leading you through it with a hand hovering over your lower back.

“That sounds yummy, I’m starving.” You toss him a smile over your shoulder before greeting everyone with a wave.

It’s well into the third hour of service and you never got the chance to leave once the doors opened. The bar had been struggling, Millie having taken over as manager and Mary trying to appease the picky impatient customers who all want a taste of the raved over menu and a glimpse at the alluring Chef Miller.

Picking up a shaker and twisting a bottle of vodka in your grip, you glance at the ticket that just printed and adjust the amount you free pour into it. Mary had been looked so guilty as she approached you’re the table where you do your work on a regular basis, the question of if you were willing to help out getting drinks started for those waiting on tables barely out of her mouth before you were nodding and cleaning up your stuff. It was now safely tucked away in the office and you were moving at a fast pace behind the bar to keep up with everything. Millie stepped down to let you take the reigns, knowing she would only get in your way. Ellie could be seen picking up and dropping off glasses at the well as often as Millie as she acted as barback.

The restaurant was buzzing, excited conversation and pleasant atmosphere making you remember the tingling high of getting off from a busy shift with a wad of cash tucked into your pocket. Just as you place a strainer over the shaker and begin to pour the contents over six shot glasses the door to the kitchen swings open and Joel walks through. You’re too busy, so you shift the chilled shots to the mat over the well and place the corresponding tickets beside them. Moving onto the next drink, you rinse out the shaker with the star sink in place.

His eyes catch yours through the crowd of people when you look up as Ellie comes up to take the shots and then watching as she delivers them, the sound of the shaker loud in your ear as you hold it over your head. His steps don’t falter as he approaches the table, he was delivering the plate to, but you could see something flash over his face. He’s back behind the door as you move to lodge the shaker open.

The night goes by quickly, taking orders for those lucky enough to snag a spot at the bar but hadn’t been able to make a reservation. Shoving each cash tip into a pint glass for the girls and even taking a few business cards from people interested in hosting parties in the space. You’ll be sure to pass those along to Mary, even if some of them requested you as the bartender. You didn’t mind, missing the atmosphere and good moments you had experienced in the setting. Ellie is taking back the remaining dishes from the last few tables, Millie is out back smoking after helping to clean up the bar top when Joel ambles from the kitchen once again.

He's got his chef’s coat unbuttoned and loose around the shirt underneath, the glint of his belt buckle catching the fairy lights around the bar. His steel curls are slicked back, but you could see the frizz and fluffiness where they rested over the back of his neck. He had been saying he needed a haircut, but you had made a sound in the back of your throat that made him put it off.

His eyes are trained on you as you move the trash cans full of empty bottles to line up beside the drink pick up area. You’re about to return behind the bar with a wink thrown over your shoulder when he snakes his hands around your waist and pulls you to him. He smells amazing, the perfect mix of savory spices, smoke, and Joel.

“Playin’ restaurant, huh? Thought you went home and passed out.” He leans down to kiss your jawline.

“Nah, Mary asked for my help when Millie got swamped.” You breath out, hands coming up to rest on his chest and push should he get a little too enthusiastic in you still being here.

“Not your responsibility.” His eyes hold no real heat or command, you know it’s born from a place of worry, of not wanting you to stretch yourself too thin.

“It’s okay, baby. I don’t mind.” You cradle his cheek in one hand and play with the collar of his open coat with the other. His eyes glance down, the glitter from your lotion catching the light on your neck and chest.

“Hmm, you looked good. Dress looks good on you, shakin’ those drinks and-“

“Dad, holy crap, it was so busy tonight. Some dude tipped me like fifty percent because he was trying to impress his date!” Ellie plops down on a stool with her server’s book. She doesn’t even look up from where she begins to go over the receipts. “Wait until everyone leaves to start doing that or better yet, wait until you’re home to do that.”

“One day you’re gonna meet someone and it’s gonna be hard to keep your hands to yourself.” You only giggle at the typical parent response from Joel. Ellie wasn’t a touchy-feely person, but you were sure she would be with the right person, you’d seen her flirty interactions with girls while out with you and your friends, tagging along for the free drinks and to have safe company. She was pretty smooth if she didn’t get into her head too much, soft touches to shoulders and waists, though she steadfastly refused to dance. With anyone, no matter the setting.

“Gross,” She begins to fill out the printed shift report before organizing the receipts in order and then asks you for the stapler. Detangling yourself from the man, you do make it back behind the bar. That’s when she notices the pint glass. “Holy shit! You made all that?”

“Huh? Oh, no. The restaurant did. Here.” You hand the wad of bills over to Joel. With your own shift report and stapled receipts. He uses two nimble fingers to extract the shift report but leaves the cash in your hand. Frowning, you track the report as it’s tucked into his back pocket along with Ellie’s. Her own cash tips secure in her booklet.

“Also gonna see about getting some of the petty cash from the safe for the hours you worked.” He begins to take the full bags from the trash cans, tying the ends together tight.

“Joel.”

“You worked, you get paid.” He doesn’t look up as he reaches into the bottom for the rolls sitting inside and begins to place new ones over the lips of the plastic.

“I’m your girlfriend. Who used to work here. I was just helping out.”

“Nope, not gonna fly, darlin’. It’s yours.” He slides the empties cans back around the bar for you to put back in their designated places.

“If you don’t want it, I’ll take it.” Ellie reaches for it and you let her swipe it from your hand. Only for Joel to set her with a look. “Oooor not.” She says as she puts it down atop the clean bar top.

“Joel!”

“Can’t hear you, Sabrosa, gotta make sure the kitchen duties were done.”

“Seriously, I’ll take it if you don’t want it.” You quirk an eyebrow at the younger girl, but Millie bounces up and says everyone was going out for a bite at the taco truck parked a few blocks down. They have a spot in a lot that has picnic tables and offer late night service. Ellie takes off, ensuring you she’ll text either you or Joel when she’s back at the townhouse afterwards. She’d been staying the second bedroom there more and more, as you found yourself splitting your time pretty evenly between it and Joel’s. He would join you sometimes, but certain nights either you needed you own space or he did and that was okay.

Sighing, you lock the patron door behind her and turn the sign from open to closed.

As you’re double checking everything is shut down properly, you open the washer to let the last load of glasses air dry, the steam billowing out. Turning when you hear the swing of the kitchen door again, Joel has his chef’s coat tossed over his shoulder and his backpack over the other. His eyes zone in on the cash and then a smirk takes over his face. You turn your attention back to the washer and ensure it’s off before you round the bar top and makes sure it was swept underneath the stools. You’re about to ask him which car you were gonna take home when you spot a crumpled napkin you must’ve missed.

As you bend down to pick it up, you feel thick fingers sneak beneath the skirt of your dress. You don’t think anything of it until you feel Joel tuck a bill from the stack into the band of your panties. Knuckles grazing against your slit as he moves to the other hip and does the same. You shoot up, the napkin forgotten as you try to turn around.

“Nu-uh,” His palms come to rest on your lower back and shoulders, bending you over one of the stools as the heat of his body looms close. He whispers something about having to scrub the video cameras set up around the dining room before you hear the clink of his belt being undone and feel him move your panties to the side. You throb at the feel of the cooler air circulating around the room, a gasp leaving your lips as he gently runs the head of his cock over your folds, arousal from you both making it such a smooth motion.

As he reaches over your back for something, he fills you up, the stretch of his girth feeling like a reward for the hectic shift completed. But you know the night would’ve ended like this either way.

A moan rips from your chest as he grabs a hold of whatever he had been trying to get, hips flush with yours. He chuckles, pleased with himself before his hands sneak around to cup your breasts as they threaten to spill out from your dress at the prone position. His fingers tuck more bills into your underwear, beneath the straps over your shoulders, into the already full cups to peak out over the swell of your chest. He even tucks one into the mess of your hair thrown up into a clip at the back of your head before his hands secure around your waist and he begins to thrust.

That’s the last memory you have of both smoking and drinking, only a few days before you had anxiously waited for a piece of plastic to tell you your fate. It was now a month since finding out, Joel making sure to go with you to get confirming bloodwork and a full physical. The headaches from missing both finally having abated. Joel on the other hand, he was sneaking cigarettes, you could smell the lingering smoke on him when would come home and you were still up. It didn’t really bother you, knowing he indulged for far longer than you had in the bad habit. But you missed the social aspect of the act, of seeking out the designated spots around campus and chatting, of sitting out on the back patio with Tommy as he enjoyed one on the evenings he stopped by with his own little family for dinner.

But it was all worth it, you mused as you poured yourself a cup of steaming water into what was once your coffee mug. Tea was something you indulged in now, the cupboard filled with the different types you were trying to work your way through to see what would help with the onslaught of nausea and also appealed to your tastebuds. You preferred the fruity ones, just like you did with your cocktails, hence the nickname Ellie had graced you with that stuck.

Jingling keys and heavy footsteps signaled you to Joel’s return, the sun still shining on the calm afternoon. He had been gone when you showed up at his house, a cookout planned for the day. Tommy and Maria had been here an hour, the grill just about ready for the first of many things to be cooked and the pool was sparkling as it awaited the arrival of Sarah and Ellie. You had spent the morning cleaning it of debris and adding a few treatment drops. The whole family getting together. It was good, it was a good feeling being surrounded by them all. You and Maria hitting it off even more over the news of what was to come. Her own child now nearing two, she had given birth while you and Joel were split. But you had sent a care package and visited her in the hospital with her favorite takeout.

It was so domestic, so full a life…it made you wonder why you hadn’t been able to experience it as a child yourself.

“Missed ya, darlin’.” Joel steps up behind you and embraces you. Kissing your temple, you feel the frown mar his lips as you don’t respond. “Everythin’ alright?”

“Yeah,” You mumble, turning in his hold and wrapping your arms around his chest. He smells like cinnamon and the grill brick he used while closing up the restaurant after a brunch shift and you breathe him in as you press your face into his broad chest.

“Gotta shower, wanna join me?’

“The girls will be here soon.” You hold him tighter, missing your own family even if it had never been the same as his own. Dinner once a month with your own father, no visits offered or initiated, grandparents raising you since you were young. A mother who had passed early due to complications from cancer she hadn’t known she had until she was pregnant with you herself. “Wanna make sure everything is ready for them.”

He peppers kisses into your hair before pulling away and disappearing upstairs.

The afternoon continues, the smell of grilling meat and roasting vegetables lilting into the air alongside ruckus laughter and bad jokes. Everyone is comfortable around the patio and the in the pool, food served and consumed. Just a few bites left of everything, Joel ensuring you that he would heed your cravings and what you felt like you could stomach, not worried about leftovers lately.

“So when do we get to meet the rest of the Sabrosa clan?” Tommy askes around the lip of his beer bottle. He’s across from you at the table, Joel off by the grill as he messes with something he hadn’t let you sneak a peak at.

“Oh, um…you don’t?” Caught off guard, the bite of food falls from your plastic fork frozen halfway to your mouth.

“No siblings or nothin?”

“Um, well-“ Clearing your throat you take the bite and chew it contemplatively. Honesty or the thinly veiled truth? Your mind is working hard, something Maria must hear in her seat beside you at the patio table. She shoots Tommy a look you catch out of the corner of your eye, trying to keep calm so the child in dozing in her arms doesn’t stir. “I’ve got two half-siblings, but we don’t keep in contact much.”

“They gonna be at the wedding?”

“What wedding?” “Oh my god, dad! You proposed and didn’t tell us!” Ellie and Sarah holler from where they’re in the pool, one of them resting on a floating device and the other is practicing her laps to get more comfortable in the water. Joel turns from where he was ensuring the grill was off and brings over the s’mores dip he had just let melt to perfection. Your stomach rumbles at the sight of the gooey swirl of marshmallow and dark chocolate, of the rye biscuits he must’ve whipped up at work steaming beside it in a single use tin. Set up with a divider in the middle.

“Haven’t proposed to ‘er yet, quit it.” He sits it down atop a trivet, but no one makes a move to reach for it until he gives the go ahead. But he doesn’t until he’s got one of the dark biscuits covered in the dip and set in front of you. Then it was fair game as the girls begin to swim across the length of the pool, or well Sarah tries to glide her floaty across while Ellie does. Tommy readies one for Maria before making his own, quirking an eyebrow at you as he watches the pull of the dip.

“But your dad is gonna walk you down the aisle, right?” Tommy presses on, not catching onto the awkward way you were shifting in your seat or how you had placed your fork down to rest on the edge of your paper plate. The dessert untouched. But you don’t get to think of an answer before one is flying from your emotionless face.

“Can’t, he’s dead.”

Silence falls over the once happy and jovial backyard, the splash of Sarah slipping from her floating longue echoing.

“Tommy.” Joel’s voice is firm as he pins his brother with a mild glare. Maria is equally unpleased with her husband’s penchant for talking without thinking, not reading the room. He yelps as she kicks his shin underneath the table.

“It’s okay, wasn’t much of a father when he was alive anyway.” You reach for the mocktail you had made a pitcher of for you and the girls to enjoy. No one says anything as you pour yourself another and take a sip from it. Not liking the tension that had crept into the atmosphere, you gather up your nearly empty plate and stack it atop Maria’s to take inside, making more room for the messy dessert. Slinking away, you feel Maria reach out a hand to trail down your arm, comforting you before you’re gone back into the house.

“You dumbfuck.” Ellie mutters under her breath, earning a glare from Joel over his shoulder for her language. But he doesn’t disagree. You do, but it wasn’t his fault. How was Tommy supposed to know he had picked the one subject you had nothing good to say about?

“Shit, I- holy shit.” Tommy’s voice follows you before he yelps a second time as Joel brandishes the still warm tongs from serving biscuits.

“Way to shove your foot in your mouth, we were havin’ a good time.”

“I didn’t know! I thought she was just quiet about her family not that she didn’t have any.”

“Tommy, you’re the father of my child and my husband but you are seriously so stupid sometimes.”

“Dad, she-she doesn’t have any family?” Sarah is tearing up, affected by the sudden realization of why you never brought anyone around except for a friend every once in a while. She could understand not having a mother, as her own was so distant, only showing up when she needed something or felt lonely in the life she created for herself. But to not have a dad? That was all she knew and she couldn’t fathom how her life would have been without him in it;.

“She’s got us, baby girl.” Joel goes to run a hand over her shoulder and press a kiss to the fluff of her kinky curls as she stands beside the pool set into the ground outside the patio. He wraps the towel she brought out around her and rubs it across her shoulders before lifting his hands. “We’re her family, pretty good deal, huh?”

“Dad….”

“She’ll be okay, I promise.”

The laid back vibe from the afternoon returns once everyone piles into the living room to watch the season finale of an admittedly awful reality tv show. But everyone was hooked and harmless bets were made on who would cause the most drama and how things would end. You’re a little subdued, but you make comments along with everyone else and laugh at the absurdity of what happens on the screen.

Stepping out of the bath you had decided to soak in, you startle when you see Joel sat on the small bench in the master bathroom across from the vanity as you pull back the shower curtain. He’s already changed into his sleep pants, his freckled and bronzed chest on display through the steam.

“Darlin’, why didn’t you tell me your dad was passed?”

“Because it doesn’t matter.” You stand in front of him, taking in the way he watches you through the mirror as you press a bead of toothpaste onto your toothbrush and wet it before popping it into your mouth. A heavy silence fills the room, tangling with the rose scented steam from the bubble bar you had used. The pink water swirling down the sink a near silent hum.

“It-uh, kinda does. Makes me feel…like a whole wedding would be…”

“You don’t have to ask me. We don’t have to get married if it’s going to be a problem.” Shoving down the worries and residual guilt of being raised in a certain religious culture at the thought of having a child out of wedlock, having a child as a single woman you catch the man’s gaze through the mirror. The burn of embarrassment simmers beneath your skin, shame for feeling such embarrassment sparkling behind it, creating a swirl of emotions you hadn’t wanted to feel this close to bed with an early class. You want to marry him, to experience that with him, to live life together as husband and wife, but it feels perfunctory when you didn’t even believe in the reasoning behind why you felt that way. He’s frowning, his brows knit close together, something off in the depths of his brown eyes.

“It’s not a problem…right?” You see the worry flickering through him, in the way his eyes shift and the way he clenches his fists in his lap. “I just…you know you’re a part of the Millers. Have been since the moment you caught my attention, but baby…I don’t want you to feel lonely if it’s my family and your friends.”

“Are you insinuating because I don’t have a family of my own, I’m somehow missing something?” Anger flared hot and sticky in you, washing out the embarrassment. The heat from your bath making it so much worse and you cross the room to pull the door open. Back at the vanity, you ignore his gaze and rinse out your mouth before moving on to clean and moisturize your face. He’s quiet behind you, knowing he phrased his sentiment wrong and this…this communication was new for you both. Still hard sometimes as you both realize how deep some things run and how different you could be.

“You know I’m not.” The gaze he has trained on you reminds you of the way he would watch you through the kitchen, tensions high as you both couldn’t seem to get your heads out of the dirt and just be honest with each other. A time that had passed, allowing for the present to bloom.

“Then a wedding wouldn’t be a problem. But it’s kind of moot, you haven’t proposed.” You don’t anticipate the slight edge to the words as they leave your lips, but they slice through the air. You feel shame overtake the waning anger, making your face hot underneath your massaging hands. The burn of tears threaten to ruin the routine you just completed and you hiccup as your hands flatten atop the vanity, head hanging between your shoulders. You do not like this, but you have no idea where it’s coming from. It really doesn’t bother you that he hasn’t asked. You know he has the intention to, the agreement of a visit to town hall and then a small party to celebrate. Nothing fancy, nothing crazy, simple.

“Hey,” He whispers as he comes up behind you, hands resting over the quick beating of your heart, his naked chest pressed to your back, the damp towel the only thing separating you. But you can feel his own heart between your shoulder blades, strong and sturdy. Grounding you in the way you had explained you preferred when overwhelmed. “I promise I wasn’t trying to upset you, just want you to be comfortable, to have everything you deserve.”

You let him help you to dry off the rest of your body, lotion lovingly applied to your body by his hands before you slip into a nightgown and slip between the sheets beside him. You kiss an apology to his lips, needing him to know that it was just initial panic and not the real way you thought or felt. He accepts it and offers one of his own, lips pressed to your chest, right over your heart before sleep takes ahold of you both.

“I said don’t.” You warned, no humor in your voice. You had tried and failed to put on every one of your pairs of pants, jeans, leggings, and none of them were comfortable. None of them zipped, buttoned, or stretched enough underneath the slight bump that had seemingly blossomed overnight. Joel was sprawled on the bed, working his way to getting up at the late hour. He had been at the restaurant late, later than usual as they had a party stay well after service hours. He had let the staff go on time, ensuring they would get the tip out but not wanting them to have to stay once all the cleaning and side work was done. One of the many things you adored about the man, his willingness to heed situations like that in favor of his staff even if he was gruff and to the point most of the day.

“Didn’t say nothin’, darlin’.” He rumbled from beneath the sheets, tan skin looking deliciously golden paired with the pale pink set you had insisted changing from the white that had previously been curled around the mattress. You had woken up with bad cramps last month, terrified something had happened as you pulled back the covers to find blood spotting the pristine fabric. A quick trip the emergency room as he shared in your panic, albeit in a more controlled way, assured you that spotting was normal during the early months of pregnancy.

“Dress...” You muttered to yourself, hand cradling around the small bump. Joel only hummed, stretching out to alleviate his sore body, thick legs appeared from beneath the fabric. Your eyes traced the long lines of his body through the mirror atop the dresser, drinking in the sight of him and your body began to thrum with arousal. When your eyes roved up the expanse of his broad chest dusted with dark hair to his face, he was smirking at you with an eyebrow arched in a silent question of how long you would ignore his deliberate departure from the bed.

You had all but jumped him when he got home last night, papers you were grading scattered all around you on the couch and coffee table, a Josh Gates show on the television for moral encouragement. He had teased you once about your affinity for the man but you had clapped back with his borderline obsession with Anthony Bourdain, to which he simply said ‘can’t help it darlin’, the man knew his shit’.

The dinner he had brought home had been tossed to the entry way table, as you knelt down to help remove him from his shoes and pants. Mouthing at the line of him through his boxer briefs before he could even get his keys hooked on the mirror over the table. He had been prepared to find you fast asleep, a different kind of tired taking hold of you more and more, almost demanding naps during the day when you got home from campus and right before dinner if you hadn’t worked. But you had sprung up from your spot and welcomed him home, the food forgotten in favor of getting your fill of the man that had been consuming your thoughts. The thought makes his cock fill, twitching underneath the sheets as he recalls your enthusiasm.

He sees the way your eyes dilate at the movement, the hush of his hand skimming down to grip himself.

Suddenly, you’re no longer debating over the clothing flowing from the draws inside the closet or those of the dresser. You peeled the pants you had been fruitlessly trying to zip up and nearly threw yourself at him. He greedily accepts your frantic kisses, starting from his shins and all the way up neck to finally connect with his own. He groans at the taste of coffee you had allowed yourself this morning, his own cup still steaming on the bedside table. His glasses beside it, his cellphone lighting up only to be ignored.

“Does mama need some attention?” He breathes into your open mouth, large palms caressing the exposed skin of your hips. His hands graze your middle, and you shy away from him, self-conscious of the extra jiggle, the stretchmarks from rapid weight fluctuation of your years now accommodating the swell of the beginning signs of the life you two had created together. “Hey, no, c’mere.”

You’re sure he sees the flicker of emotions across your face before you school it into a cool arch of your brow, the playful smirk of your lips. Falling back on bravado that wanes far too quickly these days as your hormones ping pong all over the place. You were just as apt to burst into silent tears as you were to jump him, confusing for you and devasting for him as he tries to read your moods as well as he can. He was hoping to dislodge the habit of you seeking refuge in the townhouse you had gifted Ellie, her own budding relationship prompting her to ask for her own space just as the new stage of your life became known to them. Equal parts of respect for the more tender and tense moments sure to happen and yearning for her own space again.

“Mama needs some new clothes, wanna spoil me?” Your voice is a confident hush, hands reaching forward to urge him to shift closer, both of you on your sides and facing each other.

“Do anythin’ for you, darlin’, you know that.” His teeth sunk into the curve of your neck, tugging you back to him. That seemed to get you to forget your insecurities as he felt you pull him closer, your smaller hands so soft on his chest as they caressed his skin.

“I think I wanna go to that fancy mall, maybe get some pretty underwear that won’t make me feel like a total loser.”

“I’ll take ya anywhere you want, maybe even that big shopping center in Dallas? It’ll be just like the trip we took to Arizona. Could get a hotel, see the sights and just relax. Hear they have a mac and cheese restaurant in the arts district.” He rolls to pin you down, and you move to allow him space between your legs instinctually. Body hovering over yours as he kisses down your neck, your chest, he lets his words sink in. The bralette you had put on doing nothing to hide the perk of your nipples. He laps at them through the thin fabric, delighting in the way it makes you arch up into him. You were so sensitive to his touch lately, your body on high alert as your hormones fluctuate erratically.

“That’s a lot, Joel. Shouldn’t we-“ Your hesitant words are cut off by a searing kiss, the press of his skin against yours making it hard to keep your train of thought.

“We should do what we want, darlin’. Wanna get everything sorted to go this weekend?”

Tears are suddenly pitter pattering over the sheets, darkening the fabric where they land after rolling down the sides of your face. He pushes his weight from where it pressed you to the bed, back on your sides and you let him, unable to stem the tears.

“Oh hey, hey it’s okay,” Joel crowds close, the thin fabric separating your bodies as you bury your face in his neck and curl your legs up, knees pressing into his stomach. Hiccups startle you both as you find it suddenly hard to breath through the onslaught of emotions spiking. “Hey now, darlin’, it’s alright.”

“I’m sorry,” You mumble into his skin, embarrassment flaring up hot in your cheeks and chest. You feel so silly, pulled in too many directions in so quick a succession. “I just…you’re so hot and I’m all bloated and my skin feels all tight and I really want some ice cream.”

Twenty minutes later, you’re happily spooning a sundae into your mouth with a red plastic spoon in the passenger seat of his truck. All the tears and frustration gone from you as you held tight to the treat in your hands with far too many flimsy napkins. He’s got a cigarette dangling from the hand he rests on the inside of the door, trying to keep as much smoke from wafting back into the cab as possible. Errands, today was an errand day and you smiled over at him. Pairs of sunglasses meeting, eyes hidden beneath them. He just leans over to press a kiss to your temple, not wanting to disrupt your enjoyment of the ice cream you literally cried over.

next chapter

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unfortunately-a-miraculous-fan · 25 days

Text

Every goddamn day, I think about how Chameleon was a very stupid episode, but for the exact opposite reason that I initially thought it was.

I always thought it was because the entire class was acting unreasonably stupid, but they were actually pretty reasonable, all things considered.

It was Marinette's writing that was the issue.

You're not gonna complain about your assigned seat being moved around to accommodate a disabled new student, nor demand proof of her disability, that would just be a dick move. (It doesn't make sense for the ENTIRE CLASS to be moved around, but I'll ignore that point because it's just kind of a nitpick.)

Many members of the class have personally met at least one celebrity, with a few classmates even being celebrities themselves. Lila's stories are certainly out there, even by this class' standards. But it's her first day, and again, most regular people don't hound others for proof on claims like this, even the ridiculous claims. (It doesn't make sense for the class to be so enthralled by her stories, but I would just chalk that up to them being nice to the new kid. The show does get kind of ridiculous with how much the class trusts her later on though.)

Lila could've absolutely caught that napkin on instinct. It would've hurt, but she wouldn't be thinking about her injury because that's how instincts work. Lila actually almost drew unnecessary attention to herself by making up that "explanation" on the spot, as protecting herself with her injured wrist needed no defending in the first place.

The only reason Marinette knew about Lila's lies to Adrien is because she stalked the two of them, which Alya and Nino are rightfully distrustful of. (It's still completely stupid for them to ignore her story entirely though. That's potential evidence of Lila lying to someone. At the very least, they should've verified the story with Adrien. But they just completely blew it off, and that point is never brought up again.)

From the class' perspective, Marinette complained about accommodations made for the new girl's disability because she wasn't allowed to sit close to her crush anymore, demanded hard evidence of the new girl's claims despite having some ridiculous celebrity stories herself, threw a napkin at her, potentially making her wrist injury even worse when she protected herself out of pure instinct, and then stormed off when that didn't work out in her favor.

I don't like this episode, not because of the way the class was acting, but because they took the girl who is supposed to be the smartest character in the show, and had her make probably the worst possible decision in every single situation. There are fatal flaws that cause characters to make understandable mistakes, and then there are characters just ignoring the obvious right answers because that would make far too cohesive of a plot, I guess.

They could've literally had some Spy vs Spy esque shenanigans between Lila and Marinette where neither can openly admit what they both know the other knows and have to skirt around social barriers in order to make the other look bad while saving face themselves. That would not only write itself, but would make more sense given their respective characterizations and would allow for much more interesting drama and character dynamics across multiple seasons.

#miraculous ladybug #ml #miraculous #lila rossi #marinette dupain cheng #ml analysis #ml critical #ml salt

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celaenaeiln · 7 months

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Based on the posts I've been reading, the Titans rlly dislike Bruce xD

Do you have a list of stuff of the Titans clowning/making fun/hating Bruce? 👀

If there's too many (omg is it??), maybe just your faves or those that rlly impacted you

They do!!

I had the post mostly done in my drafts when I saw your ask and decided this was the perfect opportunity to finish it!

BUT I DEFINITELY HAVE MORE!

The tug-of-war between the two groups comes from the fact that Bruce canonically has codependency issues with Dick. He honestly needs his son at all times for everything.

The source of Bruce and Dick's relationship problems all sum up to this:

Nightwing (2016) Issue #7

"I wanted to give him the freedom to make his own choices. To do things his way, even if that meant making mistakes. And then...well, then I blamed him for how difficult it was for me to let him go."

He's so, so proud of Dick but he refuses to release him to be free. When Dick manages to get away Bruce hisses and shrieks in rage and fury and hurt that Dick left. Even those long stints where Dick was ignoring Bruce after being fired or after Jason's death, Bruce never ignored Dick. Sometimes going as far as stalking him like at the circus.

This one is post-Jason, pre-Tim era.

The New Titans (1988) Issue #61

Ignoring the self-realization backtrack, it's applaudable that Bruce was even able to get those words out at all. Usually it's just heavily implied.

So the reason why Bruce hates the Titans so much is because they're his biggest threat. They have the possibility of taking Dick away from him forever and he's terrified of such a future.

It wasn't originally like this though. In the beginning when Dick said, I'm gonna hang out with the Titans, Bruce'd be like "Sure, Chum, have fun!"

Teen Titans: The Silver Age Issue #1

But as Dick grew older, there was increasing animosity between the Titans and Bruce. It got so bad that Bruce gave Dick an ultimatum: Me or the Titans. Choose.

Nightwing (1996) Issue #101

"I know, I know...I'm late. Titans Business. We just shut down Brother Blood for...good.."

"Save it."

"Look, I don't know how many hundreds of people we rescued from Blood's cult, but it was a pretty important mission."

"I said save it."

Nightwing (1996) Issue #101

But here's where it gets worse. Bruce and Dick are too busy fighting that they both missed Clayface recovering, obviously in the end they defeat him but neither of them are happy for the oversight which leads to the final scene.

Nightwing (1996) Issue #101

Bruce literally fired Dick because he couldn't stand him staying with the Titans.

"Robin is my second...my lieutenant. Anything less that total devotion to this cause is simply wasting my time."

Devotion to the cause or to you, Bruce? He's freaking Batman. He's done solo runs and Dicks done solo runs as Robin just fine but for some reason whenever the Titans are involved, he loses his goddamn mind.

But hey. Bruce isn't the only one who gives Dick an ultimatum.

Titans (1999) Issue #15

Damn, Roy.

He came out swinging with a chainsaw.

Both sides want Dick for themselves. About 80% of the Titans problems with Dick lie in the fact that they want him to have nothing to do with Bruce.

Batman (2016) Issue #19

Titans (1999) Issue #15

They just want Dick's priority and loyalty to be to them, undivided. Unfortunately, Bruce expects the very same-only it's for himself.

The Titans get so angry at Dick for going back to Bruce and Bruce gets so mad at Dick for favoring the Titans. But Dick loves both of them so there's literally no winning for him. The successful periods for Dick are when both sides comprise for him.

They're willing to work together to protect him though.

Titans (2008) Issue #1

Outsiders (2003) Issue #50

The instant de-escalation at protecting the reputation of Nightwing and her girlfriend. Not to mention how it was Batman who wanted to keep the dirt off Dick.

But the issue is, like Victor said,

Titans East Special

Titans are family.

But Bruce can't bear for Dick to have a family of his own that's not him.

#dick grayson #nightwing #bruce wayne #batman #alfred pennyworth #roy harper #arsenal #victor stone #cyborg #dc titans #titans as family #cl anon asks #thanks for the ask!

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weebsinstash · 8 months

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Babe! A new Helluva Boss episode just dropped! And Ozzie and Fizz are just so goddamn cute! 😍😭 and Ozzie is such a sweetheart! (I hope he’s genuinely such a softie and not playing an act, we need more softie demons).

Can we please talk about Yandere! Ozzie again? Pretty please with a shit ton of sprinkles on top? 🥺

Bestie thank youuuu I watched that shit immediately and I have so many thoughts

This episode actually shows a big reason why I haven't really published a lot for like, Ozzie or Valentino in terms of actual fics because, my take on Ozzie's personality based purely off his debut appearance would've been a lot more different and now we see that, bro he's, suave yeah, but also, a huge green flag lovable cinnamon roll dork??? Valentino, we only have seen so much of. To be honest the way he's been presented seems to sway from "scary as fuck during gangster business stuff" to "he's kind of a ratchet ho, actually" and I'm not, entirely super confident writing stuff for him because like, I'm more of, assuming? I can't, analyze his character like I can for other characters with more material out for them.

For real though, my current stance on this matter is: Asmodeus, you could go to him and ask for his knowledge and advice on like genuine issues or things you're curious or concerned about like, legit you could sit down and have STD talks with this man ("h-hey Ozzie is it normal to have xyz on my you know what" "oh honey yes that's just like a blood blister from friction you're fine" "oh my god ok good because I was worried it was cancer" "HONEY NO 😩") meanwhile fucking Valentino over here would be like "bitch why you got cellulite" and like make backhanded comments like, oh maybe he could reward you with a boob job instead of your next paycheck (as in like, cosmetic surgery 💀 you know I've thought about that? Yan Valentino who's crazy for ya but, not crazy enough to not make certain, tweaks to your actual body. Maybe he dyes your hair or has it styled a specific way and basically refuses to let you do whatever you want with it. Gets your boobs or ass done. Makes you get fillers/botox for any wrinkles/static lines. Controlling your wardrobe is a must. You're like his little.... pursedog)

(That being said though. I'd still let him hit 😩 reader who gets drunk and fucks around and finds out--)

Anyways though, over here in our corner we believe in unapologetic self indulgence and I still believe a Reader who has magical abilities or powers and whatnot and can travel the rings through whatever convoluted means is a fun time. So. We're gonna do that! I mean. Asmodeus honestly seems chill enough that even if you like, somehow crashed into his club, as long as you were polite and respectful, he'd be chill with letting your hang around, maybe even getting a kick out of teasing you (but never pushing anything too far unless you show interest, and if you show any discomfort or trauma he backs off to re-strategize). I imagine his club would actually be pretty fun? Drinks, live music, although, kind of makes me wonder, how openly horny is this place? Probably not like "coochie in your face" like working for Valentino, so, Reader could even be all "honestly this is such a much more safe welcoming environment to engage in like sexuality" and Ozzie hears this and its like, dude. You might as well have just struck him through the heart with cupids own arrow, but, also, he's curious, what other places have you been?

I'm kind of convinced that if a little imp cunt like Crimson thinks he has the balls to stand up against Ozzie, hostage or not, I kinda feel like. Valentino would probably openly treat Asmodeus like shit. He'd probably be a catty fucking bitch to him. He probably looks at Ozzie as like, a diet coke version of himself, a version who has so much power but doesn't go far enough, and probably scoffs at Asmodeus' romantic attachment (even though Val has some weird on-off thing with Vox himself). Valentino doesn't give two fucks about consent and would probably openly mock Ozzie'e values

Or. They could be big business partners because, maybe there's some sort of inter-Ring porn trafficking pipeline or something, smuggling the good shit up from Lust and trading it with stuff from Sinners, who have more visual variety besides other perks etc

But just picture, Asmodeus and Fizz are, minding their own biz, at the club, chilling, listening to music, eating food vaguely shaped like clocks, and Ozzie's cell rings, and they're both like "aw I bet Reader's calling to say they're having fun at that party or whatever" but they answer it and you're like, hiding in the bathroom or a closet or something, crying, whispering under your breath "d-do you still have a place for me to stay like you said before 🥺 Valentino is really, REALLY drunk tonight and he's really scaring me, he grabbed me and--"

They're both at your exact location in like less than 5 minutes and maybe have to play it off, Ozzie distracting Val while Fizz steals you away, or, juicier, like. Imagine Val snatching your phone from your hand, going through your messages, "who the fuck have you been talking to?" And he pulls like the classic abusive boyfriend move and when he sees you're in frequent contact with someone named "Ozzie" he calls him from your phone and as soon as a male voice picks up, they're both going at it "bitch who the fuck are you?" "Bitch who the fuck are YOU?" "Why you got my baby's number?" "Why do YOU have MY baby's PHONE???" "I'm about to HAVE my foot up your ass, you--" like, you know what I mean? Asmodeus is rolling up and these two are all but butting heads with each other as you have to awkwardly explain how you know both of them and of course, suddenly there's a not quite comfortable conversation about which one of them you... "belong to", neither of them wanting to leave you with the other (although I imagine in a physical fight Asmodeus would win but Valentino would have homefield advantage involving his security dudes)

Either way like.... oh my god watching them lounge in that nice big bed together. Fizz being on Ozzie's chest, like. Give me that 😩😩😩 "oh Reader, baby, so glad you took up our offer for a place to crash, but, since it was so short notice it'll have to be with us tonight" type shit and like you're fine with that but then bedtime comes and. There's Literally Only One Bed. And you're like ok you know what I'm not really in a position to be ungrateful, Valentino could have actually fucking hurt me or trafficked me or whatever, but, you're still small enough that Asmodeus could hypotheticallyyyy just, reach an arm over and scoop up you into his chest for a cuddle, or just have you in the crook of his arm like a cat or a teddy bear. Ozzie definitely sees an immediate perk on Fizz not being so much of a troll as to give you the airhorn treatment your first morning there, so, obviously, they have, multiple motivations to, keep urging you to stay 👀 after all, Val is going to be looking for you in the Pride Ring, and you don't have any other friends, so, you're kind of stuck with their whims aren't you? Unless you try to run off on your own, and I mean. Really. They can just hire someone to bring you back lmao. Or get you themselves. Could you imagine feeling way you uncomfortable around them and slipping away and suddenly you find a little white demon dog on wheels happily rolling up to you out of nowhere and it's. Fucking tracking you for Fizzarolli and Asmodeus, like. Damn, can't even trust the dogs in Hell. Demon dogs in Ohio be like

Anyways idk I just like the idea of like. Combining several ideas, you do the whole "accidentally did the whole Death Fall From The Sky and crash into Vals sunroof, he keeps you in servitude because you have to repay him, eventually you Fall into Lust and you start basically doing double jobs at both clubs and prefer Ozzie and he eventually has to rescue you". Also like Valentino "canonically" humiliates his partners on social media so I can imagine he's just publicly belittling and negging you all the time. One second you're happy at Ozzie's listening to music and eating unholy amounts of onion rings with your quirky well intentioned clown friend, the next week Asmodeus sees a Sinstagram post where Valentino is just like "cutie was whining she couldn't get any tips so I helped her out 😜🤭🍈🍈" and its just. A photo of you in your work uniform where he clearly just reached forward and tore open the front of your blouse and he is just. Full on deadass without any hint of irony making you basically work in your bra and he's just without any remorse posting photos of your running mascara and you're clearly crying but what can you do?

Val posting a photo of him literally shoving a tip INTO your bra, his FINGERS in there, and other like little clips and snippets of him demeaning you while you're like actually fucking blubbering "and make sure to get me extra ice!" "*sobbing noises*" "I didn't hear a REPLY! Do I need to take some of those nice tips I'm helping you make?" "N n noOo I'm sorry" "sorry WHAT?" "M sorry mister Valentino, I'm sorry, I'll get your drink right away mister Valentino" and Val is just slapping your ass HARD as you turn to leave like and just laughing like this is the most fun he's ever had

like I feel like Asmodeus realistically would only be able to do so much IN Pride itself (because would You show up in your boss' turf doing your own shit? Big risk) BUT, I mean. You go down to Lust and you're basically fair game. You show up to your next shift after The Boob Incident and Ozzie's like "giiiiiiiirl imma keep it real with you, I know you wanna try and be independent but I got some concerns--" and he's barely even halfway through it before you're just, TEAR EXPLOSION, "i hate working for him, I HATE IT, I wanna work HERE full time, but I don't have a place to staAaaAaay" and just. Some UGLY crying because you're at wits end

Zero hesitation here's Asmodeus "Sweetie what kind of apartment do you want??? You want a penthouse? I can get you a penthouse?? You want some shopping money?? Tell Big O whatever you need." and the next thing you know Valentino is scrolling through Sinastagram and has to do a double take as your account starts posting all kinds of photos of you looking cute and having fun and, poolside in a bathing suit and you're becoming more comfortable with your body and your sexuality and, he's thirsty absolutely, goes to try and tease you or make fun of you and you're just like "you wanna fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid" and just ignore him as Val is forced to watch you pal around with Asmodeus (either as just friends or total fuck buddies like, deadass catch me out here "hey so, there's this position I've always wanted to try--")

#yandere x reader #yandere hazbin hotel #yandere stuff #sinprompts #yandere helluva boss #idk do i even. tag this series. idk.#you can tell this shits been in my drafts

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dissociacrip · 8 months

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an aspect of autism i never really see discussed much is having a hard time comprehending "basic" things or just not being able to comprehend them at all and how people treat you like you're lesser for it or either see you as being lazy or just not trying hard enough. not just with social rules but practical things. iADLs and bADLs but also more than that. lower support needs autistic people typically don't have many issues with the latter but i imagine i'm not the only autistic person who is "book smart" and can understand what the theory of structural dissociation is (which, don't get me wrong, doesn't make me better than autistic people who aren't "book smart" or who are intellectually disabled) but i'll still make decisions about practical things that in hindsight don't make any logical goddamn sense or i'll otherwise fuck up "basic" stuff that seems to come to other people so easily. it's to the point where i don't need a carer and can technically live independently but don't feel like i should be because my brain just like. does not work well in this respect. and then other people who are on the receiving end of it think of me as stupid or lazy or immature or god forbid spoiled in some way (and newsflash to those people - autism is a developmental disorder. wild! and someone not having the same intellectual capacities as you do doesn't make them subhuman.)

like. idk what point i'm really trying to make here i think i'm just burnt out on allistic and abled society in general. autistic and intellectually disabled people and other developmentally disabled people are gonna struggle with "basic" shit and "basic" logic and "basic" functioning and "illogical" thinking/behavior and not "acting our age" (lol) and some of us need support in our day to day lives with these things in order to get by. fucking get over it. we don't need to change for you and most of us cannot. have compassion and patience with us and be supportive of us or leave us the hell alone. and people within the community need to have more respect for those with higher support needs or needs different from theirs. i am going to start biting people.

#ableism #actually autistic #actuallyautistic #autism spectrum disorder #neuropunk #j #brain log

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reasonsforhope · 1 year

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One of the things that I really appreciate about this blog is that now, every now and then, when I hear about some new awful thing in the world, it will be in the context of "and this is what people are doing to fight it". That's so much less paralyzing.

(If you have any sources to recommend for experiencing more of that, me and my mental health would be further indebted.)

Ahhh, I forgot about this message, sorry! Been a hectic couple of months.

I absolutely have more sources!

One of the biggest is the media collaboration The Solutions Journalism Network, which focuses on just that: closing the massive gap between people reporting on problems and people reporting solutions.

I have a giant bookmark list of sources for this blog, for good news stories and hope, so here's a bunch of links! Roughly in order of how good I think they are (in terms of size of stories, previously uncovered stories, good editorial standards, accuracy, detail, number of stories, etc. etc.)

We're gonna start with the ones that do good news ONLY, because sometimes you fucking need that, and then below I'll link some excellent sources that have a higher than average number of quality pieces on good news, even though they also publish other stuff too.

Good and hopeful news sources:

Future Crunch - If you only read one of these sites, read this one!!! It's a MASSIVE biweekly roundup of international good news stories with really high quality reporting--a lot of UN and WHO and major NGO reports as their sources. I cry from hope at LEAST 30% of the times I read this, and tbh it used to be like 100%, about a year ago when I started realizing that hope for the planet and for humanity was something that was REASONABLE TO HAVE.

Reasons to Be Cheerful - Fewer stories, but FANTASTIC quality of reporting, especially on fantastic local stories, many of them in international communities, that you've definitely never heard of before

Positive.News - Good coverage and especially roundups, mostly Europe-focused.

Good News Network - This one is awesome for the high number and approachability of its stories, but unfortunately also includes more "That's not news that's just a heartwarming anecdote" and "That's not good news it's actually dystopian" pieces than I'd like.

Jane Goodall's Good For All News - Really awesome focus on international issues, a lot of news from Africa, a lot of news about youth organizers and youth-led projects, and a lot of focus on how helping the environment and helping communities are inextricably connected. Yall Jane Goodall is doing SO MUCH amazing work out there even at her age, and most people also have no idea.

Good Black News - Mostly posts on music and entertainment, and doesn't post all that often, but they're great.

Good Good Good

The Good News Hub

Only Good News Daily

( ) for Tomorrow - Directory of grassroots solutions to all types of issues and "proof that no solution is too small to have an impact"

A Plus - Dedicated to uplifting stories in video form. I'm sure they're awesome, I just don't rly use them bc videos can set off my sensory issues

The Happy Broadcast - Illustrated good news tidbits! I haven't been using them much but it looks like they've (recently?) added more text and sources to each image, so I might change that. Illustrations are pretty cute tbh

Sources that publish a lot of good news, but also other not good stuff:

Euronews.Green - Environmental section of European news org

Yes! Magazine - Excellent solutions-focused journalism, excellent focus on BIPOC content and underrepresented communities

TheMayor.EU - EU-focused, discusses a lot of good projects and cool local developments/programs

Grist - Solutions journalism, fantastic corage especially on environmental issues

Mongabay - Billed as "News & Inspiration from Nature's Frontline," they are amazing and have some of the best goddamn reporting I've ever seen. They mean "frontline" very literally: there's a TON of pieces about and by and interviewing communities on the front lines of environmental conflict, especially developing nations and Indigenous communities world wide. That said there's also a lot of bad news on nature's frontline still, while they report a lot of amazing and powerful good news, make sure you're in a resilient mood when you visit this site, because some of the stories are also pretty upsetting.

Indian Country Today and Native News Online - two of the leading news orgs for Indigenous communities in the United States. Kind of like Mongabay in that they have a lot of good news stories from Indigenous communities that often no one else is reporting on, but also plenty of coverage of things that are definitely not good, so better to read when you're in a resilient mood.

If you have any good news sites/sources you'd like to add, please drop them in the replies or comments! I'm always looking for new good news sources (though I def don't always have time to use all of them, rip!). Plus, let's support these sites by giving them some traffic!

We could all use more ways to get some more good news.

#ask #good news #hope #conservation news #environmental news #human rights #activism

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lovelykhaleesiii · 1 year

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hmmm... Whatabout modern!chubby!aegon learning that the reader has issues with eating? I feel like that could be an interesting little story. Like nothing all that serious, just that the reader often skips meals to get to work earlier, or they cook Aegon dinner but don't leave much for themselves, because they want to make sure our precious babyboi is well-fed but don't care too much about themselves.

Aegon would notice this after a while, and lemme tell you he is NOT having it. Aegon grew up very spoiled, he's never been pressed for time when it comes to eating, nor has he ever dealt with food insecurity in terms of wealth (i.e. he's always had enough money to have 3 meals a day).

So Aegon decides he's gonna learn how to cook, so that he can wake up earlier than you and make you breakfast n things like that :)) you notice, and 1. It's the sweetest goddamn thing ever and you just wanna squish his chubby cheeks and give him kisses for it (cuteness aggression is a real thing, people), and 2. Seeing him in the kitchen with his stupid little apron, puttering around like a housewife kind of drives you CRAZY.

Maybe the reader literally pins him onto the kitchen counter and takes him like that, apron and all, while he's covered with sugar IDK

Aegon also becomes a bit of a hobby-chef because of this, which I think suits him so well. Little babyboi making a bunch of different dishes, asking the reader to try them out with a worried look on his face (he really values your opinion! 🥺). You always tell him his food is amazing though. You might hate seafood beyond belief, but when this boy makes you salmon the reader will eat the whole damn thing and tell him its michelin-star quality.

I can imagine he also puts on a bit more weight because of this. He's always been fluffy, but he maybe starts becoming a little insecure of himself? Like he doesn't quite know if you mind him being a little chubbier. That worry doesn't last long, cuz within 5 seconds, you're back home and squishing his cheeks and belly and laying your head on his soft thighs, and he realizes he really doesn't have to worry about it (with maybe some sweet reassurance from the reader?? Idk I love that shit istg 👀👀)

sorry this was so long! I just love hobby-chef chubby!aegon so I figured I'd spread the idea like a virus lmao 💚

GRRRRR bestie this is everything, some fluff for our fluffy boy <3 the detail in this was everything, I hope I give you justice!!!!

Seconds, Please?

PAIRING: Modern!chubby!Aegon ii Targaryen x fem!Reader

WORDS: 3,357.

WARNINGS: mentions of eating disorder, mentions of self-inflicted fatphobia, swearing, dry humping, smut, size difference kink, hint of food play.

A/N - I need this domestic chubby man in my life so bad, please. apologies if I changed or added a few things, it all just came to me in the moment AHAHA <3

Domestic bliss was true, and much to your cause, you were reaping the perks that naturally came with it. Aegon was a loyal, committed partner, a considerate soul, that although many underestimated his capability in a relationship, had proven otherwise...

"Babe, you barely ate your dinner last night, and now you're off to work without having eaten a proper breakfast-" He'd worriedly confessed, remaining seated at the small, circular dining table, his mouth partially full of syrup soaked waffles, as he obediently devoured the last gulp of his breakfast.

"Aeg, baby, I only just managed to whip up something for you. Couldn't leave my big boy to starve now, could I?" You tease, as you hastily gather your belongings in your tote, cutting his soft "but" as you bid him farewell, planting a fast, hard peck on the top of his short, platinum hair.

Aegon, much to his guilt, had only just recently begun to notice how little you ate, in comparison to him. The more it played with his mind, the more sinister the thoughts would become.

Had you developed an eating disorder, that he was so blissfully ignorant to all the signs? Allowing for you to endure such a thing...

Or was it, that you had grown ashamed of his overgrown size, that you felt the need to starve yourself?

Mayhaps, the stress of work and having to care for Aegon on top, your appetite had grown weary and lesser? All because he was selfishly indulgent with the affection and attention you spoiled him with...

He stopped midway to lifting the fork into his mouth to devour the final piece, closely gazing at the slice of the delectable waffle on his fork, that you'd so thoughtfully cooked for him, before throwing it back down on the plate shamefully. The intense guilt he felt brewing in the pit of his stomach, made it feel sinful to finish it. How could he, whilst you went about your day hungry? Connecting the dots, like a pieces to a puzzle, he'd noticed how recently fatigued you were, always desperate for a nap or an early night, often having finished work late from the law firm. These past few weeks, you'd been worked to the bone. The more he dwelled on your frail appearance, he'd come to realise just how weary and thinner you'd grown [not losing an abundant amount, although enough to see how loose your clothes had grown], along with the difference in size between yourself and him, was quite noticeable.

What would others think? That he was the culprit for his girlfriend's malnourishment? Him a 'greedy hog', binging and consuming everything and anything edible on sight, of course, there'd be none left for you to eat. Many of your excuses ranged from not feeling hungry at all [your mind too preoccupied with endless amounts of deadlines], or that you were too tiresome. And in the moments that you'd spared to eat, your appetite was shortcoming, and often you'd plea for Aegon to finish off your leftovers. Now he felt even more woeful, unlike before, the guilt would devour him inside out.

In conclusion... You were too good for him, he did not deserve you. Something needed to change, he did.

"No more fucking around, Aegon, fuck-" He brutally thought to himself, as he arduously heaved himself up: belly sated and full, a pudgy, sticky hand instinctively patted over his belly, as the other grabbed the dishes, placing it in the sink. He was intent on changing his outdated habits.

He could not do much to change his appearance overnight let alone in a few hours, nor was he keen to, if he was being frank. He knew you were quite fond of his new-found softness, having not complained thus far, he was not overly big. Your affections towards him would prove just how desirous you felt, on your behalf: the way his plush body would smother and pin against you when either of you felt a little frisky. And during the cold, winter nights, the way his extra padding and natural body heat would radiate, acting like insulation, as he held you tightly in his thick arms. You felt so incredibly secure. It was a feeling unlike any other, and he refused to take that away from you.

It was time he took charge...

****

"Aeg, I'm home!" You tiresomely call out, breathless as you walk in with your brimful bag and more paper work clutched desperately in your hands, more than what you had initially left home with.

Yet, no response in return.

You slowly linger through the hallway, as you remove your heels, adjusting the papers in your hand, before walking down.

"Aegon-" You worringly repeat once more.

Aegon was often at home most days of the week, for his family owned a wealthy, accounting business. Growing up rich and dependent, it seemed that Aegon grew accustomed to this comfortable lifestyle, and you truly couldn't blame him, he had no part. Although, his parents financially supported him even till now, and provided maids to attend to his needs during his youth, his parents remained absent: often he'd express his discontent with them, and rightfully so. However, he'd just messed up a huge investment opportunity, and was temporarily suspended, thus, he was at home for most of the time. Sitting around, finding solace in snacking to get by the long, lonesome hours, as he eagerly awaited for your return from work. Nonetheless, you had a soft spot for him, and tried to go above and beyond for him, to prove he did not need them anymore...

"In the kitchen-" He loudly yelled, followed by thunderous clangs of metal pots/plates. Your nerves began to set in, was the meals you often prepared for lunch and left in the fridge, not enough? Perhaps, this time they were not tasteful enough for him?

"Hey, baby-" He warmly coos, as he walks over towards you, planting a soft kiss on your flustered cheek.

"Sorry, I've made a bit of a mess, not used to where everything is. I promise, I'll clean it up once I'm done-" He pleas, as he walks back towards the oven where, what appears to be a freshly made pizza is brewing.

In silence, you gradually examine the surrounding and Aegon, himself. Although the kitchen was a rightful mess, used plates, sauce, chopped vegetables, pepperoni slices, and shredded mozzarella strands spread all over the counter, like some deconstructed art piece. And Aegon, donned in a white apron that was now completely soiled, with a smidge of what seemed to be flour across his cheek, your heart was full. Placing your bag just before the entrance to the kitchen, and the papers on a clear, clean spot of the dining table, you walk towards Aegon slowly, still focused on the sight before you.

"Aeg, W-What's the meaning of all this? Did you get hungry again? Was the lunch I made not enough?"

"No, no, Y/N. You've done plenty... In fact, more than enough, it's just-" Having wiped his hands clean with a dishcloth, his hands had reached over securely gripping you by the sides. Guiding you over towards a seat by the dining table, you sit down, as he plops himself on the seat beside you, as he pulls your chair closer towards him with ease.

"Y/N, I've noticed how little you've been eating these past few days. And if I'm being honest, it's worrying me, my love-" His soft, fleshy hands reach over to grip yours, firmly holding your small hands in his, as his thumb strokes your skin.

"I-Is there something I should be concerned about, because you know you can tell me anything, right? I-I just want to help you." His low voice breaks, stuttering with concern, as his troubled eyes remain fixated on you.

You can't help although smile, as you now return the gesture, giving a reassuring squeeze of Aegon's soft hand.

"Aeg, please, I am fine, truly. You have nothing to stress about. It-It's just work, I feel like I have no time to waste doing anything really. And I guess, I've been more focused on making sure you've been fed and tended to, than myself before work takes a hold of me... I just didn't want you to think I'd neglected you. Forgive me."

"Fuck, Y/N, what are you to be sorry for? I should be the one apologising... I've been such a hog, so blind to everything you've done-"

"Aeg, please-"

"Seriously, baby... You are just-[sighs], you're just a little too good to me, but I'm willing to change. That's why I did this, trynna' learn to cook for us, princess, so I can be the one taking care of you for a change..."

Nonetheless, Aegon remained true to his word. The home-made pizza he'd so lovingly yet chaotically made that night was a complete success.You teased whether he'd cunningly ordered out and acted as though he'd actually made it.

"Aeg, this- this is seriously so good. It's fucking delicious-" You excitedly exclaim in between each mouthful, as he anxiously awaits for your response by your side. At first, he was in denial, exclaiming that it was just out of niceties, or his beginner's luck in the kitchen. Although, pleading your case, like the competent solicitor that you are, your compliments earn an immediate, genuine smile from Aegon. Beaming across his plump face, his cheeks blushing a subtle tinge of pink, as this was a first for him, and rightfully so, it was an ultimate success.

****

In the months coming, Aegon had grown a hearty passion for cooking, especially because it meant he could provide for you. In his spare time, he'd been searching for various popular recipes/dishes he'd heard of. Other times, he'd ask for your preferences, finding out your favourite childhood meals, eager to reminisce your youth over dinner.

Eventually, he grew more confident with his skills and even began taking risks. Daring to cook meals with ingredients, he knew you were not typically a fan favourite of, and would avoid at all costs. He often always joked about how your eating habits resembled to that of a toddler.

As he was grown spoilt and with a cultured taste, he was acquired to most things, having dined in various, fancy restaurants and fed a range of diverse cuisines. Whereas, yourself, you were not so indulgent with different delicacies and palates. He was eager to change your mind, for he was not a picky eater at all.

You'd awake to your alarm that you'd set for your daily morning walks, blaring at your ear-side from the wooden bedside table, only to stretch and be met with a cold, empty bedside and Aegon missing. Although, the faint ruckus that followed, opening the bedroom door, to a distant bright, yellow light beaming from down the hallway from the kitchen, you'd follow, only to find Aegon hard at work in the kitchen.

"Sorry, princess, did I wake you up? I just was about to cook you something for breakfast and lunch on the go. I was just thinking to make you some salmon tonight for dinner, baby. I know, I know! It's not your favourite but I found this recipe, I'm really eager to try, and I thought you'd might like to... You know, helped to expand your horizons a little."

Although it took you much convincing, Aegon noticed the disdain look on your face, unpleased by his plans, you still caved in. Those puppy eyes with those cheeks, were irresistible, you could never deny him. And yet, Aegon's cooking never ceased to disappoint you thus far, so why turn away now? As much as you had been dreading the dinner, feeling your appetite growing weaker throughout the gruelling day at work, Aegon's salmon dish was shockingly delectable. The richness and zest of the salmon infused with the spices, combined so tastefully and the texture was just right, you could've sworn you'd moan, a visceral reaction from how good it was.

"Aeg, baby, what sorcery is this? How am I enjoying this, you know how much I hate seafood...And yet, this could so be worthy of a Michelin Star!" The bewilderment set in stone in your voice, as you politely cover your mouth with your hand. Aegon always made a habit of waiting for you to eat first, before tucking in himself. He was always anxious for your approval, only to be met with countless compliments, you felt like a broken record.

"Really, baby? You mean that?" He persists, as he picks up his own cutlery, keen to unveil the taste.

"Trust me, Aeg... If I didn't like it, you'd know for sure!"

****

Eventually, Aegon took the reins of cooking, which much to your relief, meant one less thing to worry about, even if it took you a while to get accustomed to. Aegon insisted that you should continue to focus on work than having to feed him regularly.

"I'm not a little child anymore, Y/N, let me show you how well I can take care of the both of us now."

Although granted on your days off, after you'd have a decent, well-earned sleep in, you enjoyed helping him around the kitchen... It was a hard habit to break of Aegon's when it came to the cleaning aspect, he was a tad lazy and slow, so often, if given the chance, you'd help around washing, drying and packing away dishes and ingredients. Cleaning up his mess along the way, as you closely watched him from the sidelines, a true professional in their mastery.

It was only in these intimate moments, that you'd notice Aegon had grown a little rounder, more softer around his edges. The subtle double chin beneath his jaw was more prominent, and his jaw line now fading with mounted with flesh, his cheeks looked slightly more plump [the urge to kiss and nibble at them became exponential], and the apron he'd worn so often, how tightly snugged, barely able to tie from behind, as his stomach had protruded even more beneath. His figure could not be hidden, and yet, it made you fall for him even harder.

Aegon immediately noticed you openly eyeing him out, too deeply distracted by his figure, as your eyes fluttered over every inch of him.

"Y/N, what's wrong? What is it?"

Hastily snapping back out of your lustful thoughts, you felt flustered, being put on the spot like so. You hadn't even realised that Aegon had caught you, perhaps as you fell into silence, observing him strongly kneading the dough, preparing to trial out his attempt of focaccia.

"N-Nothing, Aeg, I-I just noticed, maybe you need a new apron... That one looks a little worn-out, and slightly uncomfortable."

Your meek attempt at subtleness was poor and Aegon knew exactly what you'd meant. He knew he had grown, putting on a few extra pounds since exercising his new found hobby, although he was foolish to think you would not notice. You should be disgusted by him, even in his efforts to tend to you, he was selfishly gorging himself. Had he no self-control?

"I get what you're saying, Y/N. I feel ashamed too, for the way I've become, I-I'll try to get out s'more and maybe I can go on those morning walks with you?" He bashfully looks back down at the dough he'd stopped kneading, trying to talk firmly with you.

"Aeg, please! That's not what I meant at all!" You urge, as you hastily leap off the chair, bounding towards Aegon as you instinctively wrap your arms around his thick waist, your small arms just barely interlinking.

"Don't you ever, ever think I could be ashamed of you, Aeg! Do you think that low of me? I love you, and if I'm being quite honest, I think I've actually fallen for you harder..."

You playfully look up at him, your head resting just below his broad shoulder, as you perk your eyebrows up and down teasingly, gesturing for something more.

"And what exactly, do you mean by that?" He questioned, as he finally covered the kneaded dough in bowel, waiting for it to rise, before turning to face you.

"Well, I mean your as soft as that dough, your cheeks, I could just squeeze, and those lips- Gods, your lips, Aeg-"

You tug him by the apron, gesturing him to lean down, as you plant a soft, long kiss, your tongues entwined as your share a passionate moment. Just as you'd expected, his lips felt so soft and moist, you had the sudden urge to gently bite down at his lower lip, and helplessly you did, tugging at it. Earning a cocky smile streaming across his face, you let go, aimlessly gazing up at one another with desire.

"Hmm, tell me more, princess."

"And this belly-" You grab a firm hold of his flesh, slightly jiggling against your rapid motions, as you eye his physique below and back up towards him, his attention following you.

"It's just calling for me to straddle you, I can't help but imagine how good it would feel to ride the fuck out of you, and these thighs- You've been so busy in the kitchen, stuffing your roasts and gorging yourself, you've forgotten about little, old me. You don't miss filling me up, big boy?"

Immediately, in such a swift motion, Aegon turns to steadily pin you against the counter instead. His full undivided attention, solely on you, licking his lips as though you were some type of dessert he'd just feasted his lilac eyes upon, as he presses his solid mass against you, feeling yourself helplessly squirm beneath his tender pressure. Adjusting himself in the right position, it didn't take a genius to realise, someone had grown a little excited by the realness of your words, and in sync, you felt a throbbing, familiar ache coursing from deep within your inner thighs.

"Look at what you're doing to me. Do you think that low of me, that I would forget my little princess, hmm? Your needs come first, always."

He plunges his soft face deep within the crook of your neck as he sucks on your floral fragranced skin, with each kiss he felt eager to devour you, you were certain by his harshness that he'd left a trail of fresh marks. His hands snaked down your waist, below to your ass, sensually massaging at your cheeks, as he pushed your body deeper into his, specifically your lower abdomen region, where you felt his bulge poking through his seems, desperate to be inside of you.

You felt your body slowly pacing up and down against Aegon's stocky frame, one of his thighs, found their way in between your legs, parting your entrance. You began to mimic the movements as you would if straddling him from atop, as he kept you supported, rocking yourself backwards and forwards against his clothed, chunky thigh. The friction beneath and Aegon's groans so close against your ear, was unnerving. You could sense the trickles of wetness beginning to ooze out of your eager cunt, soaking your sheer panties beneath.

"Aeg-Bedroom-" Moans in between your breathless words, you felt too feeble to form coherent words, as you felt his swollen gut, pressing deep against your breasts, flashing them upwards. One of your hands remained firmly tugging and pulling at his short, platinum locks, whilst the other dug nails deep into his meaty flesh, leaving a trail of marks behind.

"Bedroom-now."

Without hesitation or thought, Aegon picked you up with such ease, carrying you over his thick shoulder, you felt puny against his strength. Earning a small, light giggle from you, he felt invincible. Oblivious for what was to come, it seemed Aegon was keen to show you...

Just before he'd rush to make a beeline for the bedroom, he stopped by the fridge, opening the freezer door, and instantly grabbing the frozen tub of his favourite chocolate ice-cream.

"Better not waste this, we can definitely put it to some good use."

GENERAL TAGLIST - @evenstaris @chompchompluke

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hexiewrites · 2 years

Text

It’s not the first time Steve has to call an ambulance that does it.

The first time he’s fucking terrified, coming home from a long shift at the new Blockbuster down the street and dinner after with a coworker only to find his boyfriend, passed out on the floor of their shared apartment. He panics, at first, because what the fuck is he supposed to do, and then he gets it together and calls 911. The paramedics won’t let him in the ambulance so he follows behind in the beamer, white knuckles the steering wheel, all the way to the hospital. They won’t let him go all the way in and he paces for hours in the waiting room, drinking shitty hospital cafeteria coffee, before the nurse finally tells him where to go.

And the thing is. The thing is it makes sense. Eddie’s been struggling since the Upside Down. So has Steve, to be honest. They’ve both been crashing, different vices, different issues. So the first time he has to call the ambulance, he gets it. It makes sense, even though it hurts. Sometimes things happen, and Steve can’t fault Eddie for one night of too many goddamn whiskeys. Hell, he’s come pretty close to that point himself, more times than he can count lately. He makes a promise to himself to be better, to be there when Eddie needs him.

To be enough.

It’s not the second time he calls the ambulance that does it either, because as much as that one hurts, it still makes sense. Eddie on the ground gives his brain Eddie in the Upside Down, broken and bleeding and almost fucking dead and Steve calls the ambulance but he chugs a beer back before he follows in the beamer. And fuck, they’ve been through it, haven’t they? Eddie’s been trying but of course it’s going to be hard. People make mistakes and god knows Steve’s made his own, so who is he to do anything but try. Try harder to make Eddie see he doesn’t need this shit. To make him see that Steve loves him so much, loves him enough for both of them, loves him enough to get them through it. So that’s what he does.

He tries, even though he’s failing too. There’s beer in the house and he gets it, now. How much it helps to keep the noise down.

They’ve been fighting about it, even though they don’t have much else they fight about.

So of course he gets it.

The third time he has to call hurts even more. Of course it does, it screams Eddie’s failing and you’re failing and why can’t you be good enough, why can’t you love him enough to fix it. But the hurt is washed over by anger because how can he keep doing this after everything they’ve been through? Hours of meetings together. Weeks of Eddie off in rehab. Whispered promises that it’s done, it’s over. You can’t beat addiction but you can control it. They can focus on them. Maybe start that family they keep talking about. It’s behind them now. It was supposed to be behind them.

But it’s not even the third time, because the third time when Eddie wakes up he looks devastated but he still manages a smile. Still manages to say, voice rough because of the intubation, third time’s the charm, right baby? And- the average addict relapses four times, but I’ve always been below average, huh? I can feel it. This is gonna be my year.

And Steve’s not perfect either. He’s doing better, yeah, he’s putting in the work, but he’s not perfect. He’s better though. He’s been better because he’s been trying. He’s still trying because he keeps picturing Eddie, baby on his hip, cooing and giggling. Picturing them curled up at forty, at fifty, at eighty. Looking back and saying wow, we were fucked up then but we had each other. We got through it together like we always did. So the third time hurts. It pisses him off. But he’s still holding that picture in his mind, despite it fraying at the edges just a bit.

But the fourth time, when it should all be behind them because it had been better, they’d been better, when he comes home and finds Eddie on the floor, broken bottle next to him, needle still in his arm…

Well. Fourth time’s the fucking charm for him.

He calls the ambulance, watches Eddie get loaded in, feels the tears drying onto his cheeks. One of the paramedics knows him from the last time and gives him this sad smile. Says “we got him soon enough, think he’s gonna be okay. He’s lucky, your boy, but even cats only get nine lives.” Steve shuts the ambulance door and doesn’t get in his car to follow. He heads back up the stairs, cleans up the vomit, and starts to pack.

He puts his most important things in the beamer, leaves the rest. Doesn’t leave a note because he doesn’t know what to say. Calls the hospital before he goes because he has to know—Eddie’s awake and asking for him.

He drives to a liquor store instead. Drives until he can’t anymore and checks into a motel halfway between Chicago and Hawkins.

Thinks about his blue two year chip (sitting on his nightstand in the apartment, one of the things not precious enough to bring) as he twists open the bottle, and finally finally finally lets the sweet relief of whiskey burn through his throat.

He’ll regret it tomorrow, but tonight? It’s the only thing he has left.

Steve doesn’t go back to Chicago for nearly four years. He thought about it. Thinks about it. Constantly. He knows that Eddie’s alive because Dustin kept in touch, will give him a little knowing nod every time they see each other (rare, these days, as Steve barrels towards thirty and the kids finish university, get jobs across the country, try to make it home for Christmas and don’t always succeed). He never asks for more because it’s too hard to hear. Dustin tells him, one day, that Eddie’s doing really well now. Steve doesn’t know if he can believe it. He doesn’t want to believe it, because if Eddie’s doing well now without him it means he’s the problem he’s the reason he—he calls his therapist and puts in the fucking work.

He stays in Hawkins. Faces his demons, mostly metaphorical now. Spends a lot of time with Hopper, who gets it more than almost anyone but still wants better for him. Spends hours on the phone with Robin, who begs him to go back into the real world but he can’t, because it hurts too much. Takes enough correspondence classes to get an associate’s degree. Starts driving to the community college a few towns over for classes and upgrades to a Bachelors of Psychology, and starts to understand himself and Eddie and trauma, and things start to hurt a little less. He doesn't drink anymore, goes to meetings with as much regularity as he can, and when he’s finally got a new two year chip in his hands he thinks he might be ready. It hurts like an old wound, twinging in the rain but mostly fine, and he thinks he could maybe handle Chicago again.

He still doesn’t go.

At the end of the day, it’s the acceptance letter into the Masters of Educational Counselling program at the University of Illinois that does it. He honestly hadn’t been expecting to get in, it’s a competitive program and Steve Harrington who barely graduated high school doesn’t exactly scream school counsellor material. But his essay was good, he knows it was. And he knows he’s going to be good at this.

So he packs up the beamer, again. Pulls over to sleep in a tent on the side of the road and calls Hopper from a payphone, sobbing because he can’t do it.

He does it anyway.

He gets to Chicago and his apartment’s on the opposite side of town now but the first time he drives past the hospital again he has a breakdown so bad he almost goes home. But he’s been putting in the work, and he’s doing more than trying now. He’s solid, he’s stable, and he pulls himself together. He calls Hopper and Robin, he goes to meetings, he’s doing well.

He’s studying in a coffee shop, down the street from his apartment, when the open mic starts.

“Hi everyone,” says a voice that Steve would recognize from a hundred miles away. He forces himself to look and Eddie’s on the little stage, an acoustic guitar in hand. "Thanks for being here with me today. I've got some new stuff for y'all that I think you're going to like."

And then he plays. Steve gives up on his work, leans back in the chair, and watches. Eddie looks... he looks good. Better than he had when Steve was around. His hair's still long but it's curly and bouncy, and his skin is bright and alive in the way an addict's never is. His fingers skip, sure and strong, over the frets and his voice is that same melody Steve has never let himself forget, with this almost bluegrass twang that makes Steve's heart ache. He’s playing different music, and he’s shining like he’s made of gold in the late afternoon sun.

There's something about it, about watching Eddie, that feels a bit like healing. Eddie had always loved to play, but the music scene he was in had broken him before, not fixed him. He'd always wanted to make more of his own music, and here it is and it's good. The songs are catchy, straddling his blues/folk upbringing and his rock/metal lifestyle.

And then Eddie finishes a song, maybe his sixth, and his eyes scan the crowd and Steve feels when they land on him. He feels the way the whole room runs out of air, all at once, and Eddie is totally frozen for a full minute. Steve's heart is beating a million miles an hour-he wants to get up, he wants to run, but he's frozen to the seat. Pinned by Eddie's gaze.

And he knows he's been doing better, he has, but nothing was ever as good as it could have been because this is what he was missing.

"I've got," Eddie finally says, and has to stop and clear his throat. "I've got one more song for you." He's talking to the audience, but he never looks away from Steve, and the room has narrowed so much it might as well only be only the two of them there. "This one's about the one I chased away."

Steve pays attention to the lyrics and his heart breaks half a dozen times. Eddie sings about hating himself, about Steve hating him, about how the thing that tore them apart is the thing Eddie will never touch again, how the hatred is what drove him to be better. He sings about forgiveness and healing and when he finishes the coffee shop claps, Eddie waves, and the spotlight cuts.

It isn't even a conscious decision, but Steve finds himself walking up to the stage. Eddie turns away from where he's put the guitar away, their eyes meet again and it feels like coming home.

"I don't hate you," Steve whispers, because he's forgotten how to speak. "I never could."

"I'd understand if you would," Eddie says, and he's stepping closer. They're a foot apart now, eyes locked, and Steve's hands are shaking.

"I've been, uh, working really hard on myself." Steve admits, and he can't help himself. He lifts a hand and tucks a curl behind one of Eddie's ears. "I... I think about you all the time."

Eddie grins, and leans into his touch. "Me too," he murmurs, and drags his thumb over Steve's cheekbone. "I've been putting in the fuckin' work, Steve. And it's not easy, and I'm not perfect. I can't ever promise you perfect. But I'm three years sober, and I think I'm worth it, now. I think you're worth my love and I think I'm worth yours."

"I put in the fuckin work too," Steve mumbles, and he tips his head forwards so their foreheads hit.

When they're forty, they look back on this moment and grin at how little they knew. How much they believed their love would be enough, because the first time it wasn't. But this time, now that they've grown, that they've put in the fucking work?

This time, it's enough.

Eddie looks good with babies on his hips. Steve loves him more every day. They look back at forty, at fifty, at eighty, and they know their love could only have existed because they broke it, and learned by themselves how to fix it. It still hurts sometimes, aches like an old wound, but all Steve needs to do is to squeeze Eddie's hand, to feel his heart beating, and he knows:

He wouldn't trade what they have for the world.

(click here to read Eddie’s version, by the incredibly talented @riality-check !)

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rederiswrites · 10 days

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So ME/CFS (myalgic encephalomyelitis/Chronic Fatigue Syndrome) and fibromyalgia are two syndromes (collections of symptoms often found together, with unknown causative mechanisms) with largely overlapping symptoms. They're currently classified as different diagnoses, but there are plenty of people who aren't convinced that they're actually different things. The biggest diagnostic difference seems to be whether the pain or the fatigue is the biggest problem.

I'm sure there are plenty of people who, like me, couldn't possibly say which of those is ruining my life more. I, like many, fulfill all the diagnostic criteria for both. I have the specific patterns of pain and inflammation characteristic of fibro, but I also have the postural orthostatic problems (Stand Up Feel Real Bad disorder) and extreme fatigue of ME/CFS. There's no test; diagnosis is an inherently subjective thing.

This is just gonna keep being about medical problems, so have a cut.

I also have problems that may be related or may be separate or may be part of the constellation of physical issues associated with ADHD, like loose tendons that lead to terrible core strength and janky joints. So while generally the pain spots for fibromyalgia are considered to have no actual material cause, I am pretty sure that my right hip and shoulder are in fact fucked up, and fibro is just making it experientially worse. I've also got a rib that spends more than half its time in just slightly the wrong goddamn place. I have multiple friends who have hypermobility problems that make mine look like a papercut, but combining them with fibro isn't a lot of fun.

A few months back, at my bestie's prompting and with his help, I started eating keto, which is essentially just restricting carbohydrates so harshly that they represent less than 20% (or less than 10%, this seems to be bioindividual) of your diet, at which point your body begins building energy transport molecules out of fat (ketones) instead of glucose. This has a history of treating several conditions (originally, seizures, but now also diabetes and inflammatory conditions), well before it became popular for weight loss.

It was an experiment. Believe me, I have mixed feelings about the fact that it worked. At first, it worked really, really well. I went from mostly bedbound to up and working full days outside. I've started to hit diminishing returns and having to nap more often, but it's still a radical improvement. I just forget how bad it was too fast. I hate how fast we forget how far we've come.

I haven't talking about it though, because I am so conflicted about restrictive diets as a thing. This started as an experiment, and as an experiment I could sell myself on no apples no potatoes no rice no crackers no no no no etc for a few weeks. After a few weeks I could decide whether it was worth it. And now here we are and it works.

But I've gone through So Much food restriction, starting when Phantom was two and we discovered that gluten fucks us both up. Then the Boy was sensitive to so many things as a baby that I cut out the entire Top Eight allergens (let's see, can I remember? Milk, eggs, peanuts, gluten, corn, soy, uhh....others...) for a year while he was nursing. Once you've cut wheat AND eggs AND corn out there is almost no commercial product you can eat and you have to prepare everything from scratch. With a toddler and a baby. I was literally starving. I used a calorie tracker for a while and found that I was nearly a thousand calories short per day, on average. I could barely think.

It's become a huge depression trigger for me. I tell people that my last major depressive episode was triggered by not being able to eat dairy, and I'm not kidding. I'm struggling with it now, too. Most of the time I'm good, but still, despite medication, I get very low and I just want to be able to fucking eat something tasty and comforting and EASY. I just want...cheese and crackers. A whole piece of fruit. A baked potato. Rice with my stir fry. But then I eat too much fucking watermelon and I can tell the difference in my wellbeing the next day.

Food becomes a minefield. Every meal becomes a struggle. You question every bite, every symptom. At least once a day the whole thing is just too annoying and I decide to just not eat, because fuck it. I dunno if it reaches eating disorder levels, but it's certainly maladaptive. I hate that I've gotten here because what you eat actually DOES matter. it's like the question of how you talk yourself out of anxiety when the world is objectively falling apart.

But I can do the things I love. I owe all this garden progress to not having had a glass of juice or a bowl of pasta in four months. Not to mention the abrupt cessation of all my dermatitis problems, frequent "silent" heartburn, a ton of digestive problems, migraines, most headaches, and more. "Nothing is worth risking depression" but is it though?

I'm holding on to the hope that these changes will allow me to heal. That I'll be able to make long-term progress, as many people say they have, and reintroduce restricted foods gradually. That I'll be able to cement the opportunity diet gave me with regular movement and conditioning and slowly claw my way up the spiral.

But on days when I feel like shit anyway, and I can't have some fucking chips about it....yeah. It's not great.

#medical

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slocumjoe · 1 year

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Hi! I love the quality of You’re work, it’s so good!

Can you do companions react to overhearing sole and someone else talking, and all sole is talking about is how freaking amazing said companion is and how much they love them and about five minutes into the rant sole just pauses and is like “oh God I actually love them”

could you do gage too if you write for him

I studied for this one, y'know, just to do Gage right for once

Anyway, this got so long, i had to use multiple paragraphs per some companions. Whoops.

Companions react to Sole talking themselves into realizing their feelings for them

We're going to assume the feelings are mutual. Featuring non-romancable companions too, because i love yall and want you to eat good 💕

Cait; the C in Cait stands for Crisis. Panics and runs away, doesn't want to hear anymore. Sole being all sweet about her platonically about ripped her in half as is, but...holy shit. She has a chance with them. Cait didn't think this far.

The A in Cait stands for Assessment. She starts doing mental gymnastics. Okay, Sole's previous partner was like this. Cait is/isn't like that. Are they viable? Does she even know how to have a relationship? She and Sole get along very well, already. They're in- ew, no. They want to smang. Yes, that is it. No one wants her for long.

The I in Cait stands for Insecure. Cait has so many goddamn issues, man. After enough thinking, she talks herself out of it. What if she's wrong, what if she hurts them, what if they hurt her? She shouldn't try it. She'll fuck it up, right?

The T in Cait stands for Take the shot, bitch. Mentally, she decides to not pursue anything. This will fly out of the window the moment Sole flirts with her or gives her any opportunity. Cait is impulsive, man. Insecurity doesn't last long around Sole.

Curie; Curie lacks tact. Might be the most likely to just...walk in and confess her feelings too. Regardless. But she might also give them more time to ponder it, seeing as they just figured it out. The weird stuff happening in her chest (joy, confusion, bashfulness, she's learned) might also nerf her for the moment.

In the time it takes for Sole to confess properly to Curie, she'll give them lots of space, so that they can think of it without her influence. Will be painfully obvious to anyone else that she's over the moon, though. Listens to love songs and stares dreamily at the sky. Draws hearts in her notebook. Gets terrifyingly excited whenever Sole talks to her, thinking it'll be the moment. If they take too long though, WILL approach them on her own.

Danse; I'm gonna be honest, second most likely to hit the legs the moment Sole starts talking about him. Danse is not built for praise. Danse isn't even built for people being neutral towards him. And he isn't the type to eavesdrop. So, we have to assume that he gets there, like, right before Sole says it. At which point, most likely to stumble and fall on his ass. Sole hears the commotion and comes to check, only to see Danse hopping a fence, or sprinting down a hallway. So, jig is already up, Sole knows he heard.

But, Danse is 1 letter away from being a different word. What is that word, class? Yes, it's "dense." Will do mental gymnastics to come to conclusion he misheard, or misunderstood, or that Sole was talking about an entirely different person.

However long it takes Sole to approach him about it, will dig himself a hole full of self-loathing, loneliness, and yearning. The longer it goes, the deeper the hole. Sole really needs to just run after him screaming "COME BACK I LOVE YOU" or this is gonna be exhausting for Person C, who had to watch this play out as an outside observer.

Deacon; Flips a coin to decide his next move; run away screaming, or walk in strutting? If he walks in, will loudly start chatting up whoever Sole is talking to about how cool Sole is, and does it in a way that gives off the vibes of "I totally feel the same way but I'm pretending I don't know you feel that way at all". Person C wants to die seeing this.

Will also talk himself out of it like Cait. Deacon doesn't even know who he is, how could Sole? And things with Barbara didn't end too well, because he was an asshole who dragged her into his shit. He's still an asshole, dragging Sole into his shit. But because of who Sole has to be to get this close with Deacon, they're likely to nip this in the bud and approach him ASAP.

Deacon has maybe ten minutes of freaking out before Sole finds him alone and confesses. And he knows this. If Sole wants to confess, they better recognize him through a disguise. He wants to be swept off his feet, and nothing turns him on like Sole seeing through his shitty wigs.

Gage; HITS THE BRICKS. He sticks around for praise because shit, who doesn't like hearing how badass they are? And from the Overboss, no less! The intelligent, tough, sexy Overboss, who makes him melt with just a look. He could listen to them brag about him all day. Hell yeah, tell them how smart he is, how strong he is, how...big his muscles are...? Uh, thanks...but talk about how good his aim is, despite the one—wait, what's this about him being...charming...? ...Handsome? Boss, what are you—WHAT? WHAT? WHAT THE FUCK?! THIS WASNT THE PLAN! RETREAT, RETREAT, RETREAT.

Gage put all of those nasty little feelings into a jar and threw them into the ocean like a civilized person the moment they reared their ugly little heads. And now, Sole just...fucking said that. Not a care in the world, no hesitatation. They—they can't. They just can't do anything there. Inappropriate workplace relationship, it wouldn't be right. And with him? Dirty, old, banged up Gage, fucked up in more ways then he has teeth? When Sole is...Sole? Nah, nah, that...nah. Best not go there. Gets a bad case of the Yearning that makes him cringe.

Talks a big game to himself about how he's not going to do anything about it, fuck that, fuck love, who needs it, but to be honest? All Sole would have to do is invite him in a shower or something and he's dropping the literal and metaphorical pants. A smart raider doesn't turn his nose up at a good thing dropping right in his lap. That...might also be literal, in this case.

Hancock; Unlike Deacon or Curie, who consider barging in, Hancock does it. He's so shocked, touched, scared, etc, that he puts on the persona and follows its lead. He walks in, chats like normal, teases, makes no indication that he knows. Everything is normal. It didn't happen. If it did, they didn't mean it.

Whenever he remembers it later, immediately distracts himself. Cuts back on chems because he keeps thinking about it on them. Lets his mind wander. Sole is too good for him, Sole deserves better, and Sole can do better. In this state, Hancock's walls are so high up and reinforced, Sole is gonna need a real bulldozer of a confession to knock them down. I recommend a moonlit dinner with music. Something to let him know that they mean business.

MacCready; It takes a good, long time for him to realize what he heard. In the moment, his brain (likely in a bid for self-preservation) locks up. He shrugs and wanders off, forgets about it. It'll be, like, a week later, and he and Sole will be talking, and it'll come rushing back to him. The shutdown happens again, and this repeats until MacCready thinks about it for a moment.

When he realizes what they said, screams into the nearest pillow, mostly because he's been an idiot for...way too long. Has a crisis. What about Lucy? What about Duncan? What about Shaun? What about Sole? Much like Danse, Sole needs to come get their man quickly, before he spooks himself out of getting some. He wants to, but is it time for that? He'll come around once Sole figures themselves out and goes to him.

Nick; The only one who will go out of his way to approach Sole later and confess himself. He's an adult with functional interpersonal skills. He's not going to kick the door down and drop his pants, and he's not going to run away and fake his death just to avoid talking about it.

Nick gets his thoughts in order, waits for Sole to not be busy, and goes for it. If Sole would be embarrassed, doesn't mention that he heard. Nick probably starts real traditional, gets flowers and candy or something. A little courting gift, as is gentlemanly. Nick knows the importance of skipping the tomfoolery and getting down to business, but he's a sentimental man. And besides, Sole deserves to be pampered, and treated right, if they're going to do this.

Also, Nick is Person C with the other companions. And he fucking knows they sit there and eavesdrop, wants to die when Sole confesses their feelings when the object of them is right there. But also, kinda lives for it. His name is Valentine, of course he's a romantic.

Piper; Piper has a taste for the theatrical, and right now, she's thinking of what she would want as Person C. And She, in C's position, would lose her mind if the Person B walked in and loudly proclaimed their feelings for Sole. Also, it's the first thing she thinks to do, too shocked to stop and think. So Piper does it, God bless.

Well, kind of. She charges in, only to cough and awkwardly tell Sole they should talk, red as her coat. Person C (Nick) appreciates this greatly, even if she stumbled on the landing.

Anyway, there's no wistful wondering. They get this shit figured out ASAP. Piper is also impulsive, and thank God for that. Sole is also red as her coat and they go back and forth teasing each other relentlessly. Lots of squealing and incoherent noises.

Preston; Much like Nick, goes for it...but not for a while. He takes time to think it over. After all, Sole is his general, they have a lot going on, he himself has a lot going on...he has logistics to work through. Likely to make a corkboard planning it out. Will he be able to provide the needed emotional labor? Goes to Nick/Person C and ask their opinion. Nick takes one look at the corkboard and tells him Sole is his friend, not a damn supply route.

Heeding Nick's advice, also approaches it traditionally. He invites Sole to a personal, off-the-record meeting late at night. Sole finds their favorite dish, music, and Preston in a tux that Nick would have advised against if he knew about it. But Preston talks about his feelings, confesses, wants to try if Sole is willing. Obviously they are.

X6-88; Decides No. Simply No. He vanishes and refuses to think about it. Sole is his Director. He is a synth, a courser, a machine. He shouldn't have these feelings anyway, but to act on them? To have them reciprocated? Oh no. No, no, no, that won't do. It goes against everything he believes.

He doesn't think about it at all. If Sole brings it up, he will initially reject them out of shock, because he genuinely is not ready to even consider it, let alone agree. Forget matters of compatibility, there is so much red tape around this, and if he trips over it, he risks his life, his position, even Sole, if the other Board Members take enough umbrage.

Sole has to do so much heavy lifting to get him to feel safe enough to think about the possibility. Not even if he wants to, if its possible. After that...X6-88 is not meant for such things. He's never done it before. Sole will expect and need things he can't provide. What if they want sex? He most certainly doesn't. What if they want comfort? His brain isn't built for that. What if they want him to change, better himself? He's not supposed to change, he wouldn't be a courser if he could.

This relationship would take so many baby steps. But he won't forget that Sole, for some reason he can't parse, feels the same way. For something they shouldn't see as a person, but do. And...they like the person they see. It...Sole is going to be dealing with a crisis, down the line.

#fo4 #fallout 4 #paladin danse #preston garvey #piper wright #nick valentine #x6-88 #robert joseph maccready #companions react #hancock #GAGE STANS COME AND GET ME I TOOK NOTES ON THIS FUCKER #HE IS A COWARD MAN WHO STINKS #THE BITCH FLEES THE SCENE I KNOW I'M RIGHT I WENT THROUGH ALL OF HIS DIALOGUE #porter gage

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