#they just exist so well together that people named them together like FUCK

[eganeyes]

indulgent domestic modern!au clegan headcanons for the soul:

they're both really good in the kitchen!! i see them both as well functioning adults ngl so they both do the cooking, cleaning, laundry, etc working together like a well oiled machine.

bucky's more of the savory cook out of the two of them—I've been so into tinned fish talk on tiktok lately and been busy imagining this man just doing easy recipes for dinner and lunches. he likes making donburi, the air-fryer is his best friend, a risotto recipe he stole from benny's mom, wine marinated steaks, etc. he's the type to have to be in action to be calm so it's pretty common to see him running around the kitchen doing like six things at once.

buck's more of a baker, he has a sourdough starter on the counter and in the refrigerator bucky stays far, far away from. he makes the bread bucky uses for avocado toast breakfasts, cupcakes he shares liberally, dog friendly peanut butter cookies he made specifically for meatball, etc. rolling and smacking thick dough is like a stress reliever for him, so nearing the anniversary of him finally leaving his childhood house, the oven is on near 24/7 and the entire house smells like a bakery. everyone pops by now and then to take home some of the overload of baked goods and offer distraction in the form of chaos—at first by bucky's invitation but nowadays it's like an unwritten yearly calendar thing.

buck's usually in charge of breakfast. he makes fluffy pancakes more often than not, scrambled eggs on toast, always has two coffee pots ready for each of them because they go through it like its water. brady has made some very pointed suggestions on their kidneys, especially bucky's, but gets called out right back on the actual tobacco pipe he still smokes with in this day and age. if bucky wakes up earlier, he makes them avocado toast because he tried it at this hipster cafe as a joke but it's really not a joke anymore now.

they're both morning people it's revolting. when curt stays over he makes it very clear he won't be up before 9 the earliest and fuck them both if they try anything to actually wake him up. they wake him up. there's a guest room that may as well be curt's and his clothes are folded neatly in the dresser.

buck likes cantaloupe, so bucky regularly cuts up the fruit and packs them into lunch boxes for him.

brady shares the same birthday as meatball. so every year without fail, aside from his actual cake, bucky gets an extra plain cake with meatball printed on it with the words happy birthday meatball!! in large letters and a tiny (and brady) under it.

two of the shelves displayed in their house is just full of tchotchkes from all over the world from their adventures. yes there is concerning amount of unicorn statues. buck always looks moderately pained when someone asks about it. among them is a rock that tripped bucky up one random hike and somehow caused him to fall of cliff and get stuck in an outcropping of rocks. air rescue had to be called and he was an absolute nightmare of a broken ankle patient. again, buck always looks moderately pained when somebody asks about it.

they're hemming and hawing over getting a dog which the others find absolutely bewildering and when asked about it they both say its like cheating on meatball, which makes zero sense because the dog is benny's do not even think of stealing him cleven i swear—

they do get a dog from the shelter though!! they get a beagle. no really the dog is literally the bane of their existence they just had to choose the most exuberant 5yo dog with a powdered sugar face that's literally the antithesis of meatball. they name him tomato. benny despairs on how his dog isn't even really just his.

obsessed with the thought of them building their house by themselves like grey's anatomy's derek no hear me out architect!blakely helping them design the house and they have an open plan design which i kind of hate but the image of buck cooking in the kitchen yelling at bucky who's got his feet up on the coffee table oh

they go on these planned little adventures for dates and one of said plans is doing a pilates class together. hear me out: they both suck at it 😭. an hour in and bucky is literally stuck on the machine terrified of moving, he has cramps in muscles he didn't even know could get cramps. he looks to the left and buck is flat on the ground unmoving. they sign up for another class but bring curt into it thinking it'd be hilarious but no curt becomes the instructor's favorite within minutes. they sign up for another class in protest and bring brady and nearly kill the guy from sheer anger. their competitive asses work overtime and somehow end up getting instructor certificates just to prove they could.

the day they discover kahoot is honestly a mistake because when they host get togethers they do little presentations on what they've been doing since they last met and do full on kahoot quizzes and several expensive glasses are sacrificed for the worser worse. 'what was the shirt color of the lady photobombing us in that beach selfie?' and dougie straight up lobs his phone at bucky's face.

some extra casually possessive clegan hcs:

passenger princess buck with bucky's hand always casually draped over buck's closest thigh, absentmindedly playing with the inseam of his pants when they hit a red light

or: buck laying a hand on bucky's thigh to calm him down when some asshole cuts them off, or when bucky starts going past the speed limit, or just for comfort during a long drive

sitting thigh to thigh during breakfast/lunch/in the bar, sometimes even overlapping, buck's arm always around the back of bucky's chair

when they're sitting on high stools, bucky's leg is always propped up on buck's footrest

buck sitting on the only high stool available, bucky leaning by his side with an arm tucked around his hip

this pose of dua/callum insanity. squinting down on a tourist map of madrid for a random trip together, bucky's arms around buck with their heads bent trying to read tiny spanish lettering under the overbearing sun, buck tucking his hand into bucky's backpocket and tugging him closer like that'll help them find their hotel easier

some vacation fun: actually from this post I've added a few to and had brainworms on

the buckies go on a 7 day trip to somewhere with beaches and resorts and spa days and fruity little drinks with tiny little umbrellas and tell literally 0 people. they get ambushed on day 4 anyway.

in every beach outing thing, there has got to be a scene where they do each others' sunscreen. doing buck's, bucky purposefully leaves some parts of his skin unsuncreened on his back spelling out 'I SUCK' with an arrow pointing down to his ass. thankfully buck's blessed with perfect golden skin so he doesnt sunburn like at all.

buck brings a whole rack of books to read while sun tanning, a cute little folded table, cooler, bright towels for mats, and a rented umbrella setting up his downtime perfectly.

bucky leaves him to it for the first two hours because he loves the man: he goes to play beach volleyball with some random people he charms within minutes, saves a kid's sandcastle from being eaten by the waves and somehow ropes the kid and 4 other random children to build a giant fortress with a moat, accidentally step on a few crabs, takes hundreds of pics with other random tourists for some strange reason (they think he's a movie star and he does nothing to dissuade that), does karaoke near the beach bar with several equally enthusiastic drunk people, and pets every dog in his vicinity. he acquires exactly 9 numbers despite telling people he's very much taken, several insider local attractions added to his knowledge, and finds out the dirty sordid underground clubs in the area. all within 2 hours.

he comes trotting back to buck without a single hit to his stamina, and finally starts lobbying for a jet ski race.

in the two hours he was gone, bucky had flirted heavily with the jet ski rental managers, and rented 2 jet skis with a discount he refused and without an actual boating license but he's like really persuasive guys you don't get it. they do know how to ride it though because they're the kind of couple with a terrifying amount of qualifications in their CVs.

buck pretending not to be as competitive as his partner and hemming and hawing about going on the jet ski but the minute the race is on their trash talking gets so loud beach security has to stop by to calm them down.

buck leaves bucky with their kit to get some ice cream and comes back to bucky lounging on the mat. without pause, he kicks up sand directly on top of bucky and buries the man within minutes without giving the man the chance to defend himself from buck's onslaught.

buck sends the 100bg gc a pic of bucky buried under the sand with a coke right beside his head and a straw poking out straight to his mouth for easy access and it becomes the gcs new pfp.

the boys trace their location within days and on day 4 of their vacation they get ambushed in their hotel room and it turns into a big outing. jack scoffs at the buckies' itinerary and types out a new one for their entire group.

#a no pain day <3 #gathered all my eggs in one post so i could be done with them #mota #masters of the air #buck cleven #bucky egan #clegan #buck x bucky #mota headcanons #mota hcs #mota modern!au #just indulgence honestly #curt biddick #benny demarco #john brady #james douglass #jack kidd #this is literally just for me im sorry 😭 #eganeyes

[starker-raving-mads]

For You: Part IX

im so sorry this took so long but everyone can thank @madeforstarker for kicking me in the ass to get it done. Thank you, princess <3

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX

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Peter didn't see Tony for three days.

This was partially his fault. His initial reaction to The Bedroom Incident, as he was calling it, was to flee the entire building, his feet scurrying him to May's apartment early the following morning. He spent a good few hours with his aunt - something he didn't actually regret, though the reason for the new time together soured it a little for him - and when she left for work he left for patrol. It was probably his longest patrol yet, capping off at 6 hours, and while it felt good to stretch his muscles and help the people of Queens, his mind constantly drifted back to The Bedroom Incident.

He couldn't face Tony after that.

And yet he couldn't not.

After weeks of living in the penthouse, it felt like home. It was the only place he felt well and truly free and comfortable, and Tony being there just made it even better. Even with the - awkwardness that now surrounded them, surely they could get over that right? It's not like he'd said Tony's name. Out loud, at least.

So, exhausted and starving, he swung by a 24/7 deli and grabbed two sandwiches. They wouldn't be as good as Mr. Delmar's but Peter was starving so he'd take what he could get. He ate one of them on the walk home in his street wear, taking his time by taking a circuitous route back to Stark Tower. It was just delaying the inevitable but Peter couldn't bring himself to speed up the awkward conversation he was no doubt gonna have once he got home.

And yet, once the elevator doors opened and revealed the penthouse, no one was there.

"Fri?" he called.

"Yes, mom?"

"Where's, uh - where's Tony at?"

"Boss has been dematerialized and operating within the bounds of his cognitive digital space, which I am unable to access. Would you like me to get him for you?" she asked, tone colored with curiosity. Peter had to wonder what she thought of the situation, but also did not want to know. He could only imagine the leaps in logic she would make that would hit too close to home.

He dawdled around the living room for a little while before heading down to the labs, half expecting Tony to be there, blue and glowing and insubstantial but present and, for lack of better words, alive.

This was not the case.

Tony was nowhere in the confines of the lab. Peter sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, slowly making his way toward the elevator. He stopped before he entered it and turned around, speaking aloud, "I, uh, I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I - yeah. I'll be around." He felt like an idiot speaking to an empty room but he wasn't sure what else to do.

He spent the rest of the night in the penthouse doing his online course work in silence. When he went to bed, he had Friday tell Tony just in case he wanted to know where Peter was, and then fell into a very tense and restless sleep.

The following two days were much like the first. Peter woke up, had Friday tell Tony what he was doing or where he was, visited his friends or May, patrolled, and did his online coursework. He'd come home, have Friday update Tony - not that she ever got an affirmative response - and he went to bed. He slept like shit, he felt like shit, and it was really starting to drain him.

On the fourth day, when he'd about lost his patience and his nerve, Tony finally popped into existence in the middle of the living room. It scared the hell out of him but he didn't do much more than look at the older man, dumbfounded and slightly stupefied.

"Tony?"

"Yeah, uh," the simulation ran a hand through his hair, messing it up in an impossibly cute way, "hi."

"Hi," Peter replied, lame as fuck.

They stared at each other in silence, brown eyes meeting blue ones, before Tony finally broke the tension.

"I'msorryforintrudingandseeingyoucum."

It was only Peter's enhanced senses that made the jumble of words make sense and he blushed immediately, grimacing and trying to hide it.

"It - uh, it's okay."

"It's really not, this is your place and I should give you privacy and I didn't and - " Tony paused, looking at Peter again. " - and I really should not know you have a daddy kink, kid."

"Oh god," Peter groaned, grabbing a pillow and shoving it over his face. "You heard that?"

Tony chuckled and it somehow broke the tension in the room despite the topic. "Kinda hard not to when you're all breathy and moaning. Plus," he shrugged, still grinning, "I have this kickass new memory since it all gets stored and fragmented and saved now."

"Please, please let's change topics before I pass out from blood loss," Peter begged. And, suddenly, everything felt right with the world again. This was their thing. Teasing and being teased, having fun and making jokes between all the serious stuff. It felt good, like a breath of fresh air after three very long, very lonely days.

Peter tried not to analyze what that meant for the future of his sex life.

Long and lonely, he sighed.

But, they moved topics like Peter had wanted, only to something he had not really expected.

"You what?" he asked, perplexed.

"I sent Pepper a Cease & Desist," Tony said as if it made any sense at all.

"How? Did you tell her you were - "

"Oh no, no way," the older man shook his head. "I figured neither of us were ready to pop open that can of worms. I sent it through Friday on your behalf - which," he grimaced, "I probably should've asked first, but what's done is done."

"It's fine, I guess, just - why?" That was what Peter couldn't understand. Why would Tony be sending C&Ds to his wife of all people? And on Peter's behalf no less.

"Listen, kid, I fucked up when I made my will - and before you start thinking it was about your part, it wasn't that," he cut Peter off when he saw the protest in his eyes. With a firm glare, he continued, "She had no right doing a lot of the things she did and is still doing. I had plenty of time in the last three days to think about it, analyze data, check on sources - it's amazing what having all that extra time I'd normally be sleeping can do - and I'm very unhappy with her, Pete."

"Just, why?" Peter asked again, feeling like a parrot or an NPC who had no other dialogue.

"She shouldn't have taken your blanket," the older man glared. "And she shouldn't have said what she did in that meeting room, or any of the tactics she's employed since. I know Pepper, kid, like I know the back of my hand," he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand. "That means all the good and the bad. I know that I loved her, or something like that - I must have, to have gotten married and had a kid and everything," he waved his hand like this was not a tremendous thing to be admitting. Might have loved his wife. Oh boy. "But she's taking my decisions out on you and it's not right and it's not fair."

"I don't - "

"If you say you don't mind, kid, I'm gonna figure out a way to kick your ass," Tony swore. "You matter, your persona matters to the public and the shareholders, your favorite things matter even when they're just blankets, and you matter enough to me to be able to see your own god daughter."

"I - thank you," Peter replied softly, curling into the couch with a not-as-cozy blanket draped over him. "I don't know what to say to that."

"Just accept it."

Peter chuckled. "I can do that."

A sweet smile was spread across the space between them, warm and something. After a moment, Peter asked, "So what exactly did your C&D say?"

"The majority of it was just getting her to stop her public and private attacks on you," Tony started. He sat on one of the couch cushions and it was weird seeing it not sink in with his weight. "There was a second petition as well, to get visiting hours with Morgan. I hope, uh," he looked truly nervous here. "I hope you don't mind. I really think you'll love her, Pete." His eyes were earnest as he said this, not really looking for acceptance to an apology that wasn't given. Tony wanted Peter to know his daughter and Peter wanted that too.

"Of course I will," Peter smiled. "She's part you, remember?"

#starker #ironspider #peter parker #tony stark #tony stark x peter parker #peter parker x tony stark #peter parker/tony stark #tony x peter #for you fic

[lundenloves]

dad!simon masterlist | taglist | masterlist | request info

dad!simon who will near fall asleep on the sofa, sat upright with wide legs and his arms crossed, only opening one eye to pretend he’s listening while one of his daughters rambles about school drama.

dad!simon who scoffs when another monthly subscription or amazon payment goes through his card, brows knitted together after asking just why the house has to be subscribed to four separate streaming services.

dad!simon who never remembers his kids’ friends names. it could be his daughters best friend of seven years and he still wouldn’t remember.

dad!simon who visually could not care less about the gossip his daughter waffles about, mumbling “mhm” every so often to appear engaged though shrugging when called out on his evident boredom.

dad!simon who tsks at all the parcels that come through the door day-to-day. living with three daughters and a wife, it’s constant. he detests being the only one home and having to sign for something — will actively ignore a knock on the door when there’s other people in the house.

dad!simon who (when drunk) is the height of amusement for his eldest. many snapchats exist of him being handed the phone already recording and goofily grinning into it while looking up at her “what am i supposed to be looking at?”

dad!simon who sticks post-it notes in bold handwriting to the fridge whenever anyone has an appointment due the following day. “don’t forget.” complete with a fullstop and a harsh underline of the time in military digits.

dad!simon who replies sarcastically to almost every obvious question with his natural glare, something each of his kids had genetically taken: “don’t ask stupid questions and you won’t get stupid answers.” he loves them really.

dad!simon who silenced the family groupchat as soon as he had figured out how to, only replying every other day with a thumbs up reaction or more likely a thumbs down.

dad!simon who side eyes his kids. he doesn’t mean it, yet it happens. watching throw away tv? side eye. talking too loud on the phone? side eye. wearing a questionable outfit? side eye.

dad!simon who has a firm routine. he fucking detests being interrupted, and or spoken to from the hours of five till seven in the morning. he’ll get up, have food and go to the gym all in this time frame before anyone can dent his peace.

dad!simon who sighs avidly. a long and painful sigh after any merely simple question is asked or he’s to pick up one of his kids from a night out. “fucking well told ‘er not to expect me past twelve.” while accidentally slamming the door behind him, keys jingling around his finger.

dad!simon who struggles to show affection in any other way than a short pat of the shoulder or a one armed hug, pulling his kids into his chest for mere seconds before stepping back.

dad!simon who groans whenever anything gets moved in the house. his military mind in favour of keeping things in one position, untouched and moved for preferably ever unless he was told. though, having kids didn’t quite work like that.

dad!simon who: “do i ‘av to do fucking everything in this house? eh?”

simon ‘ghost’ riley taglist: @vamppxncess @crowbird @tallrock35 @fluffmonster @islanderr @blueoorchid @lea3773 @coldflapjack @rayhawk05 @han11dh @liishook @melovetitties @fallonx @rvjaa @fuckmelifesucks @bhayatsara @takeomisbitch @local-spidey @konigsblog @penutjuice @babychoi03 @sheluvzeren @sparklingtragedy @maviee @wiserebelpartypie @daddylorianisastateofmind @bhayatsara @mistydeyes @writingmysanity @johfaam0 @idkbbyx3 @gressseyy @fwibblefwobble @shibble @maladaptivedaydreamingbum @airghostlyfox @hotgirlsshareaccounts @simpxinnie @dilfdotgov @cliosunshine @bloobewy @lazybutsmexy @maki-z @yyiikes @tieflingteatime @cosmoscoffeee @lilvampirina @cinnabeanz @bubbyblob

˗ˏˋ university is still kicking my arse into next week. i joined the football team too, fuck knows why i’m making myself busier than i have to be. alas here we are, and i’m feeding the pigeons! aka sprinkling dad headcannons until i get traction again. pls love me, pls follow me, pls reblog, pls validate me.

the reason i tag this as ‘x reader’ as it’s ur fuckin family with him. no one bite my head off man i can’t be bothered tonight.

#simon ghost riley #cod mwii #cod mw2 #cod mw fanfiction #simon riley #ghost mw2 #cod mw2 x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley fanfic #simon riley x f!reader #simon riley x female reader #simon riley headcanons #dad!simon #cod ghost #ghost cod #ghost x reader #ghost call of duty #simon ghost riley headcanons

[atrwriting]

kisses and other sweet things (part 2) -- billy the kid x cowgirl!reader

hey party people :) posting this when I should be studying HAHA

send good vibes for my civil procedure final tomorrow many thx <3

I watched the scene where billy and ollinger fight and this very much inspired it lol enjoy

as always, warnings: smuuuut, p in v, unprotected sex (WRAP IT), dom!billy, brat!reader, violence, blood, pussy slapping, overstimulation

thank you all for reading!!! I love you all so much!!!!

ANYWAYS... part two:

neither one of you told… but it didn’t take long for the others to sniff the air and have an inkling for how the wind changed overnight.

in all honesty, it was billy’s fault.

the man found every way to remain close enough to be considered by your side since that night.

he would sit by you at dinner. he wouldn’t touch another woman. he always looked at you when he told a joke. he always looked at you when someone else said something funny. that joyful twinkle in his eye was reserved for you, and only you, and everyone had picked up on it. not to mention — he’d not only check his horse — but yours as well.

everyone knew what was up. everyone. absolutely everyone.

billy made it abundantly clear without even uttering a word that you two had participated in something similar to carnal relationship.

…but, in all honesty, you didn’t mind.

you would’ve preferred to talk about it, sure. what prevented you from bringing that up to billy was that you didn’t have to pry respect and loyalty out of him — the man just did it, and because he wanted to. it was… okay, fuck it — you have to admit it to yourself: it was nice. billy the kid showing you slightly more than common decency and general enjoyment of your company was nice. you were worried about bringing it up to him at the idea of losing the potential staple of someone having your back, and them trusting you enough to have theirs.

you were fucked. totally fucked. absolutely fucked. no way around it.

the man was a mysterious fuck, as well — looked at you like you were an angel, but has fucked you like even the devil would avert its eyes from the debauchery. respected in the streets, and disrespected in the sheets — every woman’s dreams.

the one unfortunate aspect was… the others. you can usually ignore everyone, and anything — only way to get through life. however, the severity of the teasing had begun to worry you.

it first began with a curt up-down look of when billy always found his way to dismount from his horse and walk next to you. it wasn’t like he was guarding you, no… neither was he following you like a puppy. it was like there was a new form of respect there — and given the fact that most of the men still looked at you like you were just a silly girl, they noticed it. for a split second, in your stupid mind, you thought it would maybe make the rest of the men treat you better — but how could you ever think that? you rolled with these guys because their very existence was about disrespect and taking for themselves.

billy had made you bot outsiders — more than you already were.

like… maybe you weren’t together… but you had each other. you weren’t sure if you could count on him yet — but his actions were… well, they confused you. and you weren’t sure if it was a good or bad confusion yet.

there had been very few moments of privacy, so you were not able to catch him alone and speak about what happened. at first, you figured you both would go about your lives as usual… not wanting to expect too much from a man who appeared to live as he wanted when he wanted to. however… you didn’t expect that how he wanted to live his life was, well — apparently by your side.

unfortunately, thinking things over was not a freedom given to you without obstacles. many of them began giving you and him looks — and then the teasing started. instead of being known by name or a nickname, the men could be heard calling you “billy’s girl” in hushed tones.

you feared the day they finally bucked up the jewels and called you his whore. you knew it was coming — you didn't want it to happen, but you knew it was. you couldn't afford to be naive.

if anyone else called you his girl — you might’ve blushed. you almost relished in it. however, when men who barely respected women called you that and you both worked with them — you knew they didn’t mean it fondly. it annoyed you, especially when you hadn’t been able to even talk about it with billy.

were you his girl? were you a fling? would billy fuck another woman if given the chance? and honestly, did he tell anyone?

questions ran through your head with very few conclusions approaching. you thought their teasing would be the worst of the worst — until it wasn’t.

no… the worst was when billy had fought one of them.

a few days after the teasing had begun to get bad, you had finally stopped at another boarding house and bar with the other boys. you figured you would retire early and let them have their fun — but that would not be the case.

when you eventually had drank your share of booze and went upstairs when the girls came around, that was when ollinger had opened his big, fat mouth.

“when billy’s done, can i get a turn?”

you froze in your tracks.

this was your worst fear — losing their respect. you had worked tirelessly to earn it, and there had been times where you felt like you never did. you may never have had their actually respect, the kind they give to men — but they never did something like that. and when all of them laughed, and began to hoot and holler — that’s when you knew where you stood with them.

fucking billy.

but that wouldn't stop you, no. they brought you on because you were a pretty thing with claws — and that's what they were going to get.

“known you longer than i’ve known him. can’t say you’ve ever peaked my interest,” you spat as you turned around to face him from a few feet away. “don’t know if you’re man enough.”

he stood then, eyes wild. he held the neck of a bottle in one hand and immediately took a swig, appearing to ignite the fire in his eyes and the aggression in his steps toward you.

“you want me to show you a real man, sweetheart?”

you took a step forward, afraid to back down. you narrowed your eyes at him. “you want me to show you how i’m a better shot than you, sweetheart?”

he stepped closer to you then. you didn’t budge — you weren’t sure if that was out of pride or fear. when he stepped closer, the stench of liquor leaked from his mouth like smoke from a wildfire. a smirk was plastered on his face, and staying still and silent was the only thing you could do to hold your ground.

“you know what that makes you, right?” he spat in a low tone. “makes you billy’s whore.”

you couldn't help it — your face twisted with shame and anger. your vision was going almost as red as ollinger's, and you weren't sure if both of you would survive the next action that came from you. before you could process the impact of his words, let alone respond — billy spoke up.

“shut your mouth, ollinger.”

your eyes flickered over to where billy stood with his hands balled at his sides.

ollinger took another swig of his bottle before he turned and stalked over to billy. billy didn’t flinch, but simply watched a drunk ollinger try to keep his cool. the entire group watched — and waited.

“you don’t tell me what to do, boy,” ollinger sneered, clutching his bottle. “you ain’t special. i ain’t never seen anything special about you.”

billy reached for his gun, but did not pull it out. billy’s hands were shaky, and that’s when you realized it — he was drunk too. “alright then — let’s fight it out.”

“i ain’t fightin’ you with a gun.” ollinger brushed off billy’s comment with another careless swig of his drink. “you ain’t that important.”

“then let’s fight with our fuckin’ fists.” billy discarded his gun and the belt it was usually kept in. “like men.”

ollinger’s eyes showed a peak of interest.

your eyes… well, they showed terror.

ollinger walked towards billy with a dip of his chin that suggested he would enjoy the aspect of hurting billy more than winning anything over billy. ollinger already thought he was better than billy, he didn’t need to win anything — but that look in his eye? when predator was threatened by another?

without his gun, you were worried for billy. frankly, billy should’ve shown it — or at least you thought he would. ollinger had at least a decade of years, strength, and experience on billy. not to mention — ollinger has also had a vendetta against billy since they met.

ollinger immediately threw of his belt. “i’ll beat your ass any day.”

as ollinger drained the rest of the bottle, you could hear the hollering of the other men around you as they drew closer. ollinger threw the bottle to the ground and stalked towards billy.

as billy was about to start pulling off his vest, you stepped up to intervene.

you’d at least like to talk to him before he died.

however, jesse stepped in front of you. “can’t get in the way of two men fighting, doll.”

you raised your eyebrow at jesse. “ill cut your cock off.”

jesse only laughed, but kept his arm outstretched in front of you.

with years of experience… you thought ollinger would fight fair — but he caught billy with a jab before billy could get his vest off. you lunged for the pair, but jesse and some of the others held you back.

you didn’t know what to do. sure, you believed in billy — but the man had a tendency of getting his shit rocked in hand to hand combat.

ollinger let out an excited battle cry — and your hate sank into your stomach. billy struggled to get up as you fought against jesse.

“come on, billy!” ollinger baited. “come on, billy!”

you watched the look in billy’s eyes then — assessing the threat. billy immediately dodged a punch over his head, came back up, and started slamming ollinger’s head against a wooden post.

the excitement of the men around you slightly died as they realized that billy didn’t fight like other men — he had no interest in punching, or relishing in getting a lick in. he went straight for a possible kill shot, grunting as he hoped to subdue ollinger.

there would be no stopping either of them. you relented against jesse’s arm, staring at the two men. your mouth parted in horror, and your stomach dropped at the sight.

billy eventually threw him over the picnic table like he was nothing more than a sack of flour. his grunts were predatory — powerful and fucking masculine. fighting was fun for ollinger — but this? this? for billy? this was necessity. he didn’t care about asserting dominance — he cared about being left the fuck alone. he needed to make sure ollinger never fucked about him again. dominance was worth nothing if you didn't have survival.

billy, still intoxicated, stumbled over to where he had thrown ollinger — but ollinger was too quick. he grabbed billy by the boot and threw him back. billy landed on his ass, and you watched in fear as ollinger stomped toward him. his eyes were wild and his mouth was curled into a bloody snarl. you wanted to get involved, you knew you should’ve — but what could you do? this was what happened when you rolled with men like this — they had to fight this out themselves, or they would become everyone’s problem. you hated it — every fucking minute of it — because this problem started with ollinger’s disrespect for you and how you could cut his jewels off before he could even get a kiss in. poor billy…

but not poor billy.

no, not poor billy — because when ollinger stood over billy, billy kicked him so far backwards that ollinger then stumbled and fell on his ass.

billy was up in an instant, stumbling, and smacked the absolute shit out of ollinger with an open palm. ollinger flew backwards for a second time that night, and suddenly the men grew more excited watching the fight. all you could do was trail behind them — worried.

billy walked up to the porch and stood above ollinger, but ollinger’s wounded pride had gotten the better of him. he took billy by the cloth of his shoulders, and slammed him repeatedly against the wooden wall of the outside of the house. jesse and his friends were cheering on billy, but all you could hear was his pained grunts. and then, just then — the moonlight had caught billy’s face just right. his eyes were screwed shut as the pain registered from the blow — and blood was pouring down from his nose and into his mouth. billy fell against ollinger in exhaustion, and that was when pat garett started cheering louder and louder.

“please,” you whispered, helpless.

in an instant, billy had gotten his elbows up and clutched the shoulders of ollinger’s shirt. with (basically) a battle cry, he willed himself to push ollinger off of him, in front of him, and then in through the doors of where all of the other men were with their women.

you followed jesse, pat, and the others.

billy and ollinger immediately crashed into the floor of the house with grunts and screams. the men once getting blown or ridden were now cheering on the fight, and the women above them or at their feet were stunned and confused — worried about getting hit.

this time — billy had gotten up before ollinger. ollinger may have had years of experience on billy, but years were years: ollinger was old, and exhausted. billy stood up and began laying overhead punch after overhead punch onto ollinger.

“get up, ollinger!” he yelled, eyes black. “get the fuck up!”

immediately, billy pulled back. like you had thought — he didn’t need the kill shot, but he needed the threat subdued. billy was breathing heavy, he was bleeding… you were so worried for him. jesse pushed past you and grabbed billy’s arm, raising it above his head.

“boys, we got a winner!” jesse cheered before everyone followed in suit.

billy fell back against the nearest bed and sat down. it just so happened that was a bed that your oldest friend was sharing with a woman. stunned, the woman grabbed billy by the shoulders to steady him. she wiped some of the blood off of his face with his shirt. you were thankful — but then her smile turned big when she realized how handsome he was.

your blood boiled.

you watched at his big eyes darted up to her face as he tried to regain his composure. he took one look at her face, your friend, and got up.

he spat once on the floor, cleaning his mouth of any excess blood. over his shoulder, he threw, “no hard feelings, ollinger.”

and started straight towards you.

you stood there, in the back behind everyone, frozen in place. billy was in front of you in as little as five strides. thankfully she had wiped his face — because he only tasted vaguely like blood when he grabbed you by the face and pressed your lips to his.

he cupped your face with one hand, but it held you in place like he was the only thing that mattered in the world. with his finger stroking your cheek, you kissed him with every bit of fear, frustration, and excitement you had in you. your lips folded together like you two were the only ones in the room — and like everyone in the room wasn’t cheering for the clear winner of the fight, and the kiss with the girl the fight was started over.

billy had stood up for you. the one man who had actually ever done that.

against your lips, he whispered. “i know you could handle himself yourself — but you shouldn’t have had to.”

you giggled against his lips, yours stretching into a wide grin. he pecked your lips a couple of times, unable to get enough of being the only one to be able to do this. he replied, “never had much taste for these girls — had a different one in mind.”

“you gonna take her somewhere private, cowboy, or what?” you asked.

billy’s eyes twinkled with mischief before he bent low, and hauled you over his shoulder. your feet kicked in front of him as you struggled to hold your hat in place and keep your balance. you were shouting at him, but nothing could be heard over your giggles or everyone else’s whistling. with one firm arm circling your hips, keeping your ass in place with his massive hand, he kicked open the doors and brought you upstairs.

“billy, if you don’t put me down —“ you laughed, breathlessly. threats were futile. “i swear —“

“shhh, sweetheart — you know i’ll take care of you,” he responded.

billy found an empty bedroom and immediately went to work. he sat you down on a low dresser and immediately started going for your riding pants and shirt. you kicked off your boots and shimmied out of the fabric as billy stood over you.

with one hand pressed to your cheek, he kissed you once more. you pulled away to smile at him. you spoke, “thank you… for what you did.”

“ollinger needs to know when to shut his mouth,” he spoke, engulfing you in a kiss once more. “should’ve made a move if he was jealous. now i’m the only one who gets to have my face between these pretty thighs.”

he pulled you by the hips so you were almost hanging off the edge, your feet flat against the wood of the dresser. you were breathless as your head began to swim. billy got down on his knees, parted your thighs, and dove for your slit.

your head immediately hit the wall. you wanted to arch your back — keen towards him — but you had limited mobility. you were at the mercy of the man before you who was lapping at your clit like nothing else existed. you should've been worried about his injuries, the dried blood on your face... but you couldn't. you didn't. billy was satisfying every bit of desperation you had felt since that night and you were too strung out to fight him. strained moans left your lips as your hips began to buck into his face.

“billy, stop…” you whined. “i want you inside me…”

he didn’t listen. the man kept his tongue drawing all kinds of messy, wet circles around your sensitive bud that pulled every dirty whine out of you. in an instant, billy pushed two fingers into you and immediately started pumping them. you lost your breath — and your ability to speak coherent sentences as well. he was tapping against your upper wall, pining for that sweet spot that was gonna make you sing for him.

“fuck, fuck, fuck…” you cried. one of your hands found his tangled mess of curls and fisted your fingers through them. billy’s tongue was thick, hot, and the roof of it was rough as he shook his head against your center, increasing the friction. your hips and legs were spasming uncontrollably as a warm feeling spread from your abdomen. “jesus christ — you’re so mean.”

the air seemed to shift in that moment, but you were so lost you couldn’t comprehend. billy wrapped his cracked lips around your clit, and pulled at it and sucked. hard.

your eyes screwed shut as a cry vibrated through your chest and into your throat. it hurt, god it hurt, but in the most bittersweet way you could imagine. it was like pain and comfort all in one, delivered by the same hand, driving you into submission. every blood vessel was throbbing, throbbing, throbbing for billy’s movements and you couldn’t regain control — and you weren't sure you wanted to.

he suddenly pulled away. “you think i’m mean, sweetheart?”

his blue eyes pierced into yours when he picked up his head to face you. his eyes were raised in a manner that suggested he expected a response, but you were still in your daze. your eyes were glossy, your lips were puffy and parted, hoping he'd answer his question for you.

billy didn’t like that. with his free hand, he slapped your clit.

your body jolted, surprised at the sensation. it made your breath catch in your throat as all of your senses were on red alert... but it only made your pussy throb harder.

“billy…” you whispered, tears coming to your eyes. “you’re teasing me.”

his dry thumb began to rub circles around your sensitive clit, and the mixture of your slick and the rough skin of his dumb drew you into his control. in that moment — in that raw, vulnerable moment — you couldn’t think of anything else besides billy, and getting him to make you cum.

“mean, that it, sweetheart?” another slap to your clit. “you want me to show you mean?”

even in your haze, you were a brat at heart. with a smirk, yet shaking from how sensitive you were, you smirked at him. “don’t think you can.”

in an instant, he was on his feet. you struggled to ring out your tense muscles and stand with him, but billy wasn’t having it. he flipped you around so you were on your stomach on the dresser, legs hanging over the edge. billy pulled your hips up for you to stand on your toes, forcing your ass into the perfect position for him.

“slut for only me, huh?” he asked, kneading the skin of your ass in his hands. he slapped it once, twice, thrice — ripping little squeals from your petal pink lips. his thumb found its way into the outer folds of your pussy, barely entering. “won’t throw even a pity glance at anyone down there — but something about me just gets you this wet.”

he pushed his thumb into your sopping wet hole, and you squealed. you held onto the dresser to give yourself leverage to push yourself into his hand, but one of his hands held down your lower back.

“more, please…” you whispered.

“that smirk made me think you don’t deserve it,” he spat, still playing with your pretty pussy.

“billy —!” you screamed with exasperation. “please!”

with his thumb still in your pussy, billy leant down and wrapped an arm around your throat. with your neck in the crook of his elbow, he pulled your back to arch up towards him. billy placed his lips right by your ear, and spoke, “is that who’s got you this worked up, baby? huh? me? be sweet, and maybe i’ll kiss those pretty tears away.”

you hadn’t even noticed it — but he was right. your cheeks were stained with tear streaks that made them damp. with broken breaths, you spoke, “please — i promise.”

he began to pump his thumb into your pussy, while his other fingers worked light circles around your clit. “promise what?”

“that i’m — that i —“ you couldn’t get the words out. you were a struggling mess — clinging to the dresser with the little strength in your hands you could muster, and completely at the mercy of billy’s hold. his breath was hot against your face as heat rose throughout your body. “i —“

“fucked so dumb you can't use your words?”

“fuck —“ you cried, already almost succumbing to the feather light touches on your clit. “you’re the only one, billy — only one — please, just let me cum.”

“yeah?” he grunted. “gonna take what i give you?”

“anything, billy —“ you gasped. “please — just want you.”

billy kept his promise. he pressed his lips against your cheek, pushing your head slightly to the side. every muscle in your body was taut with trying to remain balanced and stay perked for every one of billy’s moments. his fingers in your clit began working faster and harder, and your body began to shake. you were so sensitive to everything around you — his kisses, his chokehold, his heat on your back, his fingers buried deep in your folds. you bucked his hips back into his hand, and everything exploded.

without billy’s hold, you would’ve collapse into the dresser. your knuckles were white as they bent, causing your nails to rip at the wood of the dresser. you back was arched completely towards the ceiling as you tried to remain in position. billy was whispering nasty, nasty, nasty things in your ear that coupled with your delicious moans.

“that’s it, baby, just keep cumming for me,” he rasped, groaning in your ear. “can be such a brat — but she’s got the prettiest pussy. i know what makes my girl tick.“

“yeah, yeah, yes —“ you cried, falling against billy’s shoulder. the world melted before you. your eyes were drifting open and closed. the haze had consumed your brain, and each of billy’s movements made a whine well up behind your closed lips. “fuck, billy, i can’t —“

his fingers didn’t stop, and you felt like you were about to collapse. “oh, sweetheart, too much for you?”

you were practically fucking sobbing at this point. “n-no-no—“

“greedy, baby,” he said, licking at your cheek. “thought you were gonna take everything i gave you?”

“your cock, billy — please —“

“naw, sweetheart,” he said stroking your cheek. “think you’re in over your pretty little head. can’t take anymore.”

“no, no, billy — i want your cock so bad —“ your whines were music to his fucking ears.

“yeah, baby?” he asked, shimmying off his pants. “you want my cock? think you can handle it?”

“i can, i can, i can —“ you chanted, your head swimming. you felt billy’s hands spread your ass, kneading the flesh in his hands. his cock slipped in through your folds until he bottomed out, pressing his hips firmly against your back side.

with billy’s mouth still so close to your ear, he rasped, “sucked my cock into you, doll. couldn’t help yourself, huh?”

you arched your backside into his hips, eagerly hoping to meet every thrust. billy had once hand holding your hips down, and the other was clutching the soft, supple skin of your throat. you could hear every labored breath of his, mixing with your own. this position was unlike any other: from the back was usually reserved for women of the night, but holding you? in such an intimate manner? with his lips dragging across the skin of your cheek? waiting for how you reacted to his touch?

you were a mess. mud in his hands — dirty and messy and everywhere —needing him to keep you together.

“nothin’ feels better than you inside me, billy,” you whined.

“i know, darlin’, i’ll always take care of you,” he groaned, lips pulling at your ear lobe which sent your nerve endings on fire. “don’t know how you do it t’me. y’let me, and i'll always be back in between these pretty thighs.”

the groan you let out was hoarse in the most feminine way. your hair was splayed out all around you, cascading down your back. with every thrust, your nipples, taut, hit the cool wood of the dresser and mirrored the smallest bit of pain you needed to leave reality. your skin was flushed and tainted with every touch and caress from billy he gave you. when he saw the blush on your cheeks, and the tears staining your long lashes — he could’ve come right then.

his girl. his pure, fucked out, sweet and scary girl. all his. a force to be reckoned with, but the prettiest sight to see. and you were all his.

however, he wasn’t through with you yet.

no. he was so mean, and he knew it — but he didn't care.

not when he had finally had you after so long.

it was right then that billy promised himself he would never neglect you for so long ever again. he knew that no one had ever touched, fucked, or loved you like he did. he knew that you never let anyone even get as close to him as you let him that night, and he would never forget that — nor would he be so careless as being ungrateful.

his girl — flushed, pink, and finally being able to know what it means to be so vulnerable with a man that she would never know an orgasm like this. he would set the fires of hell on anyone around you if it meant that you could feel this free, so wild, so yourself for the rest of your life. he knew what he had to do next.

he pulled out, and flipped you over so you were back against the wall and sitting up. he immediately stepped in between you and pushed your thighs and legs up so your calves would rest on his shoulders.

“need to feel how deep that pussy can squeeze me,” he grunted, pressing his cock into your folds.

you moaned at his words and movements, practically sand at this point. your body was numb and on fire and in water all at the same time — leaving you completely out of control. all you needed, no — craved was billy sending you over the edge. over the edge, please, over, over, over, need it billy, a pathetic mess you were, but neither of you would change it for the world.

billy began pistoning his hips into yours and you immediately leaned forward to grab onto his bulging biceps. you felt every hot breath hit your face with every thrust. the room was so hot, stuffy, humid, and yet you didn’t want it to end. all you could feel was your tight, soft walls squeezing the living hell out of billy and his beautiful cock.

“‘m gonna cum, billy,” you cried, squeezing your eyes shut.

“yeah, ‘cause you’re a good girl f’me, huh?” he bit. “always takin’ everything i give her. takes my cock so well.”

“only for you, baby,” you cried again, throwing your head back against the wall.

“oh — i don’t think so, sweetheart.” his thumb immediately went to your clit, drawing rough circles on the overstimulated rosebud. "i get to see those pretty eyes when you cum."

your body immediately went taut, sitting up. the slight shake of your limbs was apparent to both of you, and you let out little gasps because of how far you were driven from reality. his cock was pounding against that one sweet spot that made your knuckles white and your teeth bury themselves into the plump of your bottom lip.

“can’t,” you cried, tears beginning to flow once more. "oh, baby — i can't, i can't..."

“i know this pussy can handle it,” he bit. “what happened to being sweet, sugar? huh? goin’ back on your promise?”

his words were the last thing you heard before your body fell mercy to uncontrollable ecstasy. your mind, numb, was thrown back and forth between the throws of passion and the pull and push of billy’s hands bruising the flesh of your hips. you pressed your forehead to billy’s, sobbing through your gritted teeth. tears were pushing through your shut, wrinkled eyelids, and all you could hear was billy begging — coaxing that last orgasm out of you.

billy had won the fight, and he had earned every fucking orgasm he had given you that night. he needed it, he earned it, and he would not be denied it. testosterone was mixing with his blood, making his veins pound, and all he could think about how the scary and sweet girl he won a fight for was weak and needy for his touch.

desperate for a comfort that she hd only allowed him to give her.

he detached your foreheads so your faces were almost pressed together, sides of your noses touching. his lips were brushing against yours — but they weren't kissing you, no. instead, they were reminding you of exactly who you belonged to.

“sweetest fuckin’ girl i know.”

"luckiest guy in this whole thing — you get that? all fuckin' jealous of me."

“knows exactly what to do to fuckin’ please me.”

“pussy just won’t stop cumming, sugar? bet you hate me so much, huh?”

with one final pull of pleasure in your muscles, you screamed his name with a sob. a fucking sob. you were drenched in sweat, your own slick, and tears. fucking tears. they were everywhere — down your cheeks, your neck, and all over billy. your hands found the hair at the back of his neck, and you weaved your fingers through the tendrils for stability.

that was when billy’s orgasm hit him: when you were so weak you could do nothing but cling to him and cry for his touch.

the throaty groan that rumbled through his chest was unlike anything you ever heard. it was animalistic — a primal need was satisfied and everything in his body was singing at the release. he clutched your body to his and your skin warmed at the embrace. he delivered three final pumps into your puffy, pink pussy, and you couldn’t do anything besides take it. you didn't want to do anything else besides take it. the sound of his moans sent every hair on your body standing at attention and your fingers were stroking his soft skin for comfort.

“that’s it, baby,” you whispered, cockdrunk. “love when you're the only one that gets to use me like this.”

at that, he knew you'd be the death of him. he accepted it, and he was okay with it. — happy, even.

you were peppering kisses all over the side of his face as he was coming down from his high. a sleepy haze settled over his eyes, but instead he captured your lips into one final embrace.

“this is the second time this evening i’ve had my shit rocked tonight, darlin’, all because of you,” he whispered. “no dull moment with you, huh?”

“never, baby,” you whispered, letting your eyes fluttered closed as you leaned against him.

“good thing you’re mine,” he quipped, pressing a long and hard kiss to your cheek. “never could share a sweet thing like you.”

----

im buzzing after that

love u guys hehe

-L oxoxox

#william bonney #billy the kid #William h bonney #kid antrim #william h bonney x reader #william bonney smut #billy the kid 2022 #billy the kid smut #billy the kid x reader #billy x reader #billy smut #billy the kid imagine #billy imagine #William h bonney smut #tom Blyth #coriolanus x you #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow

[secondbeatsongs]

with twitter imploding, people are talking about how much it'll suck to have celebrities and brands on here, but...I think celebrities can exist on tumblr in a healthy way.

because I've already seen it happen.

I don't know if you guys remember, but there used to be a decent number of celebrities on here! I mean, the white house had an official tumblr! so did my local library for some reason! everyone thought tumblr was the place to be!

we had George Takei, Taylor Swift, Lady Gaga, Hayley Williams, Ariana Grande, Dylan Marron, Dante Basco, Rebecca Sugar, John Green, Hannah Hart, Jacksfilms, Daniel Howell, and Ashens to name a few, as well as brand accounts for Doctor Who, Sherlock, Denny's, and so many others.

(Cole Sprouse was even on here, and it was fine. don't act like it wasn't. it was really not a big deal! it was fine!)

there were plenty of celebrities and brands on tumblr a decade ago - and it worked fine when people knew to stay in their lane!

did Obama's official account give a shit when people posted Obamney slash? absolutely not!

did we pay attention to whatever the brand accounts were posting? we did not!

and so we existed pretty well together on this site - because, after all, we don't have to look at anything we don't want to. we can block people. and they can block us. and we can keep posting what we want, no matter what any celebs or brands have to say about it, just like it's always been.

the only thing I think needs to change is, well...hey...remember how I mentioned John Green and Rebecca Sugar up there?

yeah the reason we don't see them on here anymore isn't because tumblr isn't a place they'd thrive - it's because a bunch of assholes harassed them until they left.

and that's not fucking okay.

so look, if you see celebs/brands on here, follow them, or don't! block them and ignore them, or don't!

but if you send threats and harassment to anyone on here, whether it be a celebrity, brand, or average tumblr user, you are the asshole. full stop. sending threats to other people is never okay. never.

and yes, this goes for the corporate accounts too! those are still run by people!

it's somebody's job to run those accounts, and guess what! that poor, probably-underpaid person doesn't deserve to get sent gore and death threats because their job is running a corporate tumblr account!

just, whatever happens when twitter explodes and dies a horrible death, it's gonna be okay. but please be kind. above everything else, please, I am fucking begging you, be kind.

it's really the most important part of thriving here

#that and knowing when to ignore the discourse #tumblr #personal #this is a bit much #but like #look #I don't really care about celebrities and brands being on here #if they stay out of fandom tags and don't break the fourth wall #(the wall between fandom and creators) #and don't interact with the fic and ships and such #go for it #go nuts show nuts etc #but the same goes for us #we have to be kind #we have to block and ignore instead of sending threats #otherwise we are worse than the brand accounts and I mean that #oh #william shatner #I forgot #he was on here too #and lucy hale #from pretty little liars #she was here #trying to think of other celeb/brand accounts #hmmm #her interactive (rip) had an official tumblr

[aerithmybbgmypookiemywife]

Genshin SAGAU where they hide in the Fortress Of Meropide in order to live a normal life.

not proofread

Creator! Reader who woke up confused in Fontaine. "What the fuck..." you mumbled as you were trying to piece everything together, why were you here? Is this a dream...?

You soon realized that you died in the real world because of Truck-Kun. Now... You have to adjust into this world...

It took a little bit of time to adjust but with the help of an old fisherman living in the mountains who took you in, it didn't take long before you accepted this life.

Creator! Reader who wants to live their life in peace and don't ever want to be found by the Archons or... Any of the main characters for that matter! It'd be a headache if they found out... You didn't want people being overprotective over you.

You wanted freedom...

Creator! Reader who gets found out by the old fisherman as the Creator by accident. You looked at your bleeding hand in horror as it spew out golden blood. The old fisherman quickly grabbed a cloth and wrapped it around your finger.

The old fisherman seemed to connect the pieces together, "So this is why you don't want to go to the city... And why you just popped out of nowhere in the fields..." the old man mumbled. "I- please... Don't tell anyone...!" you cried out. His eyes widened, "Oh! No! Your Grace I would never! But... You're not safe here... There will come a time that you will be found..." The old fisherman sighed.

Creator! Reader who conducted a plan to fake a robbery. The plan was to make it look like you 'stole' from the old man. The old fisherman would report you and you would be sentenced as a thief and banished to the Fortress of Meropide, living in the shadows... Like a ghost.

When your case was being heard, you saw Furina there, that means the traveller hadn't arrived yet... That'll be a problem for you in the future but you brushed it off, promising yourself you'd avoid the traveller like their the black plague.

When you arrived there, Childe was already gone... This was bad... That means the Traveller is coming soon.

It didn't help that you also saw Wriothesley face to face, his observing stare making you nervous... But with how he let you off easily, you don't think he found anything suspicious about you.

Creator! Reader who can't seem to not help Aether and Paimon along with the three siblings, Lynette, Lyney, and Freminet. Always leaving small clues so that they can advance to the story faster, or making sure they don't get hurt or get into an accident. You already knew what the story of Fontaine was but with your current existence... You were unsure if there were some things that'll change.

Creator! Reader who gets found out by Aether...

Your body flinched as he called your name... He knew your name... "You're... Them right...?" He added, you dared not to turn around, getting ready to run away since he hadn't seen your face yet. "You are them... The creator..." he spoke out again, "Please... Don't run away..." he begged as he walked closer to you. You slowly turned around to face him, "...How did you know it was me...?" you asked.

"That... Warmth... That lingering feeling... I felt it. It lead me towards you... I-I thought you were gone, or that you were upset since I hadn't felt you in so long..." He replied as tears rolled down his cheeks, he eventually hugged you, to which you allowed him to. Rubbing his back to comfort him.

Creator! Reader who tells Aether to never tell anyone about you or your existence to which he obliged. You watched everything unfold, from the start to the aftermath of the flood. Everything went well, and not a single soul other than Aether and the old Fisherman know of your existence.

"Everything went well... Neuvillette made sure Furina had an apartment near Palais Mermonia." Aether reported to you, "That's great news." You smiled at him, "Ah! You need to go, people would probably find it suspicious if they found you talking to a random prisoner for no reason." you added to which he nodded, he was about to leave but you stopped him for a moment and gave him a head pat. He was like a younger brother, he blushed and remained standing there for a few seconds, waiting for you to stop.

You let out a small laugh, "Sorry, I got carried away." he only nodded and quickly left, too flustered to even muster a response. You watched him as he left your prison cell.

You then walked towards your bed, looking for your work clothes as you were planning on working again for tickets. You then hear footsteps, you didn't bother turning around as you assumed it was Aether.

"Aether, did you leave something?" you asked, "Aether? You mean the traveller?" you froze... That voice wasn't from Aether... You slowly turned around to see... Wriothesley. You blood ran cold as you stared at him, your mind scrambling as it tried to find words to say.

"You don't have to say anything." He added, slowly walking towards you. "You know... I thought there was something so weird about you... Something about you kept pulling me in and I didn't know why... At first I thought you were just a Fatui spy but now..." he was only a feet away from you now, "I realized that you're them... The creator."

part 2...???

#genshin impact #self aware genshin #sagau #genshin impact sagau #genshin sagau #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader

[nexusnyx]

moment's silence

#NightSkyChallenge: Prompt 7 — The night I lost a bet. [“You know what this means, don’t you?”] [6.6k]

— Summary: Joel has no idea why Bill gifts him with the book. Had he rambled about you that much? It seemed impossible—to be fair, but surely there were other things besides your name on his tongue. Besides how much you love your books and care for them. Besides how much he's learned since he met you because of them.

Either way, the book means you lost the bet. Joel cares for very little since Outbreak day, but this—oh, this he took it to heart. You'd lost, and he intended on collecting his prize.

— A/n: Canon-divergence; Reader and Tess met Joel at the same time, and all three became a tight-knit unit. | 🏷️ Tags & warnings⚠️: explicit mature content, minors DNI; age gap, mentions of canon-typical violence, confessions, touch starved, dry humping, oral sex (m receiving), slow & deep sex, but also rough sex?, dirty talk, little spoon Joel.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤmasterlist | read on ao3

All he can think about when he sees the bookshelf is your words, even if they were spoken on a whim years ago.

"There's no fucking way you can find a classic in good conditions anymore—not even Joel 'I can find anything' Miller is immune to decay and years of nature taking over. They're all gone, Joel. I just have to accept it. I bet there's not a single one that hasn't been wrecked by either people's ignorance or fucking mold eating every single page."

He remembered those words as clear as the day's first rays of light.

Not because of them, precisely. Because of what came after. He had blurted, "Bet what?" out of sheer instinct, only for you to reply with:

"Anything."

Maybe you were being metaphorical at the time, but Joel took it seriously. He outreached his hand for you to shake. "I'll take that bet."

If he never found a book, nothing would change.

If he won, on the other hand. Well—there's something Joel's been wanting from you for a long, long time.

That's why when he enters Bill's house for the first time, Joel stops dead in his tracks on the corridor leading to the kitchen.

You'd been to the house before with him and Tess.

Just like him, you had stood outside the whole time while Tess and Frank went about their rambles and deals. You, Joel, and Bill were all cut out from the same cloth—death stares etched onto your faces as if you were marble, grumbled conversation that came up here and there between long sips of wine.

Neither you nor Joel had been inside yet.

It's the third time he visits, first one without you, and he sees it—

Bookshelf.

One of Bill's doors is open on the way to the kitchen revealing what used to be an office but now looks more like a symbiosis of an atelier and library. It's — nice, Joel guesses.

It's not his thing.

Books — those are your thing.

Joel has no idea what connects you to the pages, but he knows it runs deeper than just academic pleasure, or snobbiness (an assumption made by many who met you).

It's as if whatever elements existed within paper, inked with words that strung together beautiful stories — it moved you.

Joel was entranced by the way you were able to quote several passages.

Few things remained that were worthy of admiration, or interest. He easily placed your small and precious book collection high above on his list.

That, and your ability to bring those stories to life somehow.

"Are you a reader?" Bill's voice is expected — Joel heard his steps approaching and stopping behind him when he did.

He scanned all the shelves, so he looks back to answer Bill. "Not really. Tess never mentioned who's the little Librarian between us? Our reader's absent today."

"If my, uh... —

If mine... if they brought strangers into our situation... I wouldn't be happy either."

"Oh. Well. They seem to listen to you as well as mine listens to me."

"I hope she feels better soon." Bill says the words and they sound so real. Spoken freely, not through gritted teeth or accompanied by his usual stiff shoulders.

Joel's hands rested on his hips. "Yeah." He hated this part — with Bill and Frank it was harder to not talk about things. He was pretty sure Bill didn't even like him, just like Joel didn't like him that much, but they saw each other. Understood one another. "Yeah, me too."

"The medicine you gave — it helped." That came out through gritted teeth. Joel held back from smiling at the unspoken admission—you sold me real shit. It's saving my partner. Thanks. "Frank's talking about — lavender. Herb garden and all. God."

Joel snickers and they exchange a look. "Good luck with that."

"I'll definitely need it." Bill's hands pat his sides, and Joel recognizes his motion before bolting out of a conversation. "Feel free to look at them," he waves a hand in direction of the shelf before leaving Joel there alone.

He does look.

One by one, Joel checks the titles because if you were here, that's what you'd do, and "when in doubt, always do what you must".

He hated that your words stuck to his brain so easily.

They were sticky like honey, which also resembled your voice. Or maybe that was only the way he heard it — Joel enjoyed listening to you talk.

"When in doubt, always do what you must" came after he left behind some supplies in order to help during a run, and you'd gotten mad at him for the first time.

It was then that Joel noticed how fucking tough you were.

Complete the mission. Help when you can. Do what you must.

If he was here already, he might as well read all the titles. Who knew how long he'd last? If he'd be here again, or if you would?

When his eyes land on Frankenstein, Joel knows he hit the jackpot.

That's when the memory of your bet sparks behind his eyelids, and he's cursed with the way you smiled that day.

Anything.

There was something Joel wanted, badly.

He cut out his own permission to want anything that strayed from finding Tommy again, getting clues to somehow discover a way to find his brother, get him back, but you planted the seed in his subconscious by simply existing — he was powerless to stop it.

One second, you and Tess walked into his life.

The next, he had on one side a best friend who cursed as much as him and on the other a menace who popped into his subconscious state, giving him dreams for the first time in years.

You two brought back a sense of humanity into his day-to-day life.

In return, Joel tried his best to do good for both of you.

Keep you safe however he could. Slip extra ration cards into your stack so you could more.

Small things like that — things that he later realized were only the seeds for the want that blossomed.

Joel wanted you out of the smuggling business.

He wanted you to be safe.

It was fucking ridiculous.

Your hand never missed the trigger timing — if there was anyone around the neighborhoods he lived more skilled in knives than you, he'd eat his own hand, and you were clever.

Quick, sharp, rational.

Despite all of that, he hated the sight of your back whenever a deal had them going outside.

Every time he saw a pistol or any other weapon in your hands, he wanted to throw it away as hard as he could.

And here he was, facing Frankenstein.

Anything.

Fuck. Joel hated how he hesitated.

If it belonged to anyone else, his hands would've already made the book meet the secret parts of his backpack, but he couldn't do this to contacts so good like Frank and Bill.

He couldn't fuck up this one.

Shit.

(Maybe he did like the two men, after all. Just a little.)

Joel has no idea why Bill gifts him the book.

One minute they're sitting alone drinking scotch while Tess and Frank finish up the trade and the next, they're talking about old hobbies they regretted not paying more attention to. Conversing like two normal people. Like Tess and Frank do, only without all the niceness and excitement.

At one point, Bill asks, "Did you see anything you liked?"

It takes a second for Joel to realize he's talking about the room and the shelf. Joel shakes his head. "Wasn't a big fan of readin'." A lie, he thinks. "Even that's a stretch. I — probably should've done it more now that I think about it."

Bill's answer is a hum. "Yeah. Lots of things I wish I should've done. Properly. Piano's one of them."

Joel eyes the item in the room. He recalls you and Tess talking about how Frank was lucky to know an instrument. "Frank's good at it, though?"

"He was rustier when he arrived, but yeah — he's doing good now."

Joel admires that. Some things are probably talent, he figures. "Practice's everything. 's why I feel bad for people whose thing was, like, artsy. Y'know?" He lists you and Frank as examples. "They ain't got means to do what they really love now."

That's when Bill shares that Frank paints. Piano and drawn, painted art — that was nice. Frank probably missed a lot of things.

If what you said was true and artists withered without their art like some plants did without sun or water, then he must be sad nowadays.

The new information sparks up a memory. The abandoned art supply on Canbose with 5th Street — was it possible there were some there?

Joel kept the doubts to himself so as to not spark any hopes of things he'd fail to deliver, but the real surprise is that he and Bill have their first conversation there.

It's a nice one.

Joel loathes that his brain comes up with the knowing looks both you and Tess would give him and Bill if either of you saw the way the two men can converse so easily once the guns are gone.

Bill's — he's okay.

Rough around the edges, sure, but in polished, sturdy ways.

He's also a little box of Pandora.

The last thing Joel could expect was being called aside by Bill before he leaves with Tess, only to find him hiding behind the door waiting for him with a furtive air in his stance, as if there could be any secrets that they'd keep from theirs.

Bill extends the copy of Frankenstein without meeting Joel's eyes. "Here." He all but shoves it into Joel's hands, and then nods. "It's the one you kept touching."

There's no reason to play bargain or pretend this is a gift he's too humble to accept.

He does as he's told, thanks Bill with a long nod, and walks out.

It does beat at his mind on the walk back to the QZ, though—had he rambled about you that much?

It seemed impossible—to be fair, he always managed to keep the conversation away from himself, but surely there were other things besides your name on his tongue. Besides how much you love your books and care for them. Besides how much he's learned since he met you because of them.

Either way, the book means you lost the bet.

Joel cares for very little since Outbreak day, but this—oh, this he took it to heart. You'd lost, and he intended on collecting his prize.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤTWO DAYS LATER

The smell of your apartment envelops him every time.

Everything's open.

You keep plants hung in several places on your wall, and they're all so tall and green. Big, imponent, and your habit of walking through the place and touching one of them, sometimes going as far as plucking a leaf or petal out of them—the air suddenly turned into myrrh, lavender, eucalyptus.

Joel wished he smelled nothing other than here.

"Heard you were feelin' better," Joel says as soon as he has eyes on you.

There's more color on your cheeks. When you smile, Joel sees it reach your eyes even if it remains small in your lips. "Still feel like shit, though."

Tongue sharp as ever, then.

He chuckles and walks in as you move aside in invitation, gaze checking through the apartment as he takes off his shoes.

Joel always pays attention to everything that surrounds you.

While you ask about the trades you missed, he takes note of the spotless state of everything around him. Stainless windows, shiny floor, a sharp citrus scent lingering even around you.

Stress cleaning — check.

"Did you finish the food I gave ya?"

"Of course," you answer. Joel's happy to hear that — you ate very little on the first day you got sick, and he gave you some of his food to make sure you ate.

The two of you take a sit in the kitchen, and as you talk about work, he analyzes you better.

You had your most comfortable clothes on. They came from a box he found not long ago that was your size exactly; the shirt has wet stains on your chest, and your wet hair tells him you felt good enough today for the first time in a while.

Good enough to gather the patience to wash your hair in the sink.

"Don't mind Inoctus, you know he says that shit about the Fireflies all the time. I ain't gonna argue with him again," Joel waves a hand, and then gets to the part he wanted to talk about. "Never mind him, though — did Tess tell you about what Bill and Frank found for us? What Frank fixed?"

"No, not yet."

Excellent. "We've got some good news. Oh — and before I forget. D'you think that art supply on Canbose still has some supplies left?"

"The one that intersects with the 5th?"

"Yeah."

"I don't know. I don't see why it wouldn't have," you shrug your shoulders. "It's close enough to the QZ for it not be completely raided and I don't see who would prioritize stealing art supplies in the middle of everything." It made sense to Joel, and he felt a rare sense of giddiness tingling. "Why?"

He leans back on the chair. "Frank's a painter."

"No way."

Joel grins — you understood him. "Yes, way."

"Fucking hell. Is there anything he doesn't do?"

He laughs. "I know. I felt the same way."

"He plays the piano, he should be obliged by law to stick to that cool thing."

Joel likes it when you're feeling a little petty — the scrunch on your nose is adorable. He wants to pinch it between his fingers, even if he never did. "Anyway..." He shares the other updates about the trip to their house without you, then talks about the people who contacted him — the ones that gave him any trouble are your expertise, and Joel loves the set on your brows when you're listening.

He has no idea how someone who looks so precious can have such a wicked mind.

"She looks so — I don't know. Not this ingenious. Mean. How the fuck does someone who's always hummin' songs under her breath can intimate grown-ass man?"

"You're the only fucker who thinks she looks like an angel, Joel."

"Nah, we both know that's a lie."

"No, you're just delusional. If anyone thinks she looks angelic you better bet they're comparing her to Lucifer."

Was he? Delusional.

Tess always made him feel like he was faced with a Truth Mirror whenever he opened his big mouth around her.

After a couple of hours, you've already cooked some things — with the little help he could offer — for the both of you, taken notes of the people you need to talk to.

Joel realizes that time passes only when you.

Outside of your presence, it's all a snowball. Stale.

"Ah, shit." You get up in a rush.

"What?"

"Almost lost the time for my pills again," you mutter under your breath.

"You really need a watch." From where he sits at your kitchen table he can see your profile — the roll of your eyes. He huffs in disbelief, ignoring the feeling of his mouth tugging in the corners.

After you take your med, you sit on the couch and find his gaze from across the room. "Clean the table for me?"

Joel never says no to you.

Not for lack of want — fucking god must know how many times he's craved saying it, enunciating each letter with gusto. No.

It never came out.

He cleans the table thinking about how much he's delaying it.

The book's inside his duffel bag that remained next to your door all this time, but it weighs on his back somehow.

He did more than just clean the table as he tried pushing down the little mean jabs his mind took at itself.

You can't force her to stay outta business.

She ain't never listened to a soul in her life—who are you to tell her what to do?

Once every while, you would venture into Joel's personal space and place a finger where his brows pinched together. The first time it happened, the effect had been immediate—Joel was so shocked by the act that his whole face relaxed; not his body, though. His body froze, and he had stood there in a perfect portrayal of a statue.

You do that when he sits on the couch.

Your presence is so damn familiar to him that even lost in his own mind, he finds his way through the maze. He sits by your side, leans back, and drops his head on the couch.

When he feels your finger touching his frown, Joel opens his eyes.

"What's bothering you?" Your finger leaves, and he misses it.

Joel turns his head to the side. "Nothin'." He likes the way the color's back to your cheeks. A week on anti-inflammatory meds made you a little gray, and nothing about you was dull.

"You're a shit liar," you say.

He scoffs. "No, I'm not."

"You really are, though," you argue, fighting a smile. "And just so you know, your accent gets thicker the harder you try."

At that, he frowns. "No, it doesn't—" and fuck, he hears it. How the fuck did you notice that? His frown deepens, and you chuckle at him. "You pay attention to the strangest fuckin' things." It's said in the same gruff way he says most things, but there's enough admiration underneath it that you hear it for what it is.

"And thank god for that — it's what's kept me alive. Us alive," you snort, giving yourself the credit you're due for once.

In the end, he blurts it out. "I found it."

"Found what?" you ask, truly confused at the abrupt change.

"Something you told me I couldn't."

"That's... oddly vague," you reply. "I name a lot of things you can't find. You seem to think you have superpowers."

"No powers. Just talent." He shrugs, and gets up to retrieve the book. "What's the one thing you told me there was 'no fucking way' I could find?"

The second it takes for your brain to connect the dots is the time Joel needs to find the copy in his bag.

Joel sees your eyes dropping to it when he turns around. Widening. Freezing that way. Your lips parting only a couple of inches as your jaw slowly drops.

He sits with more satisfaction on your couch than he's sat anywhere in a long time.

The book falls with a soft thud between your bodies.

All the space he puts between you two is replaced by it —

Mary Shelley, Frankenstein.

"You know what this means, don't you?" he asks.

When you look up, Joel's caught off guard.

The moisture in your eyes shines under the light coming from your kitchen. Joel's throat becomes restricted by an invisible force, and his eyes sting in response to the sight.

"What the fuck, Joel?" your hands pick up the book with a reverence that makes his skin tingle. "Where... how —" both times you start, then stop. "My god." He just watches. You turn the book around, eyeing every millimeter. "This is real," you mutter. He's aware you're not even talking to him at this point. "Have you—" you look up at him, and he feels special enough, "have you opened it? Are the pages—it's whole?"

The way you breathe out the word.

A reverence. So sacred.

Joel might as well consider the bet paid if he wasn't so far gone on what he wants.

Kind of.

"It's whole," he confirms.

Joel almost opens up his mouth to make a teasing remark. Ask if you'd like to be left alone with it, maybe. Instead, he lets you examine it to your heart's will, which takes a while.

He's always comfortable in the silence with you.

That's when he started realizing the trouble he was in.

When he came over just to sit at the same table as you. Have dinner in silence while you cleaned your guns. Sometimes, he'd imagine a bottle of scotch would make the two of you end up in whispered conversations under the dim, yellowish lights of your place, but it never happened.

Joel's too much of a coward to let his guard down with you.

He wouldn't be able to do what he did with the others — a sweet release in the dark; an impersonal match of bodies, mingled in sweat and joined in more ways than it should seem possible, but never looking each other in the eye.

You looked him straight into his soul when you spoke to him. Every time.

"This means... you won the bet," you say.

Joel blinks out of his thoughts. "Sure does."

"So." You put the book down gently on your lap, then gaze at him, eyes piercing into his. "What d'you want?"

Tough question. Joel felt the tingle that never left his skin covering him from head to toe. His throat constricts around the words — his body starts to heat up. He shakes his head, and is overwhelmed by how the air seems to charge between you both. He licks his lips, and says.

Like a coward, his eyes fall on Frankenstein before he speaks.

"Can't have what I want." The naked truth. What's the point of lying to you, anyway? You're a shit liar. "So I'll ask for a close second," he adds quickly. Something magnetic pulls at him, and he looks up — a mistake. Fucking mistake—you never looked at him this way. Is that red on your cheeks? "I — uh; I want a voucher. A veto power."

You blink, utterly confused. "What?"

"A veto power over you." It's the closest he could think of on his way here. Some kind of power, since Joel has no right to demand anything from you. "On a decision. I—If you said you're comin' on a mission, for example. I could say 'no. Veto.' and that'd be it. No arguments. I want a veto card over you. Just one."

You stare at him for a few seconds, and Joel can almost see the engines in your brain turning.

Joel sometimes feels you're more than just yourself. The eyes on your head see far beyond what's in front of them, and he feels naked quite often when in front of you.

"Just tell me what you want," you say.

Can't have what I want, he told you. He shakes his head. "Doesn't matter."

"How would you know?"

"I just do," he argues.

"Maybe you're wrong."

"I'm not!" The storm swirls and lifts him from the couch. Joel turns his back to you, overcome by the reality of it all. "I know I'm not. There isn't—what I want is impossible. There's no such thing anymore. It ain't like the books, or finding fucking chocolate or—it ain't. I wanted you safe. How fuckin' stupid is that—" he chokes on air, gasping around the words. "There's no safe anymore." Softer, and lower, it comes out again. "There's no safe."

Most of the time, Joel's control is kept on a tight leash. His hands have a vicious grip around it because if he loosens it, it'll run off.

His hands are shaking now. He should turn back to face you, to see if he's just said too much or fucked it up somehow, but—you get up. He hears the squeaking of the couch and your steps approaching.

Then, as slowly as you approached him when you first met, he feels it:

Your hands slide around his middle. Your palms spread across his back and contour his waist, and you're hugging him—you hug him from behind, and Joel's chest expands with the air that your presence brings.

"Joel." You hug tighter. He can feel your upper body pressed against his back, and his hands come up to rest on top of yours, shaking as they are. He wants to speak up, but you beat him to it. "I thought I was going crazy, Joel."

Crazy? He is going crazy. You're wrapped around him and the world is yet to implode; Joel feels a knot in his throat that wasn't there before. "Why?"

It hits him — the answer.

Before you're able to say it hits him in the chest, because your hands grip him by the ribcages but not with force; all your fingers need to do is apply gentle pressure on him and Joel feels that you want him to move, so he lets you.

You spin him inside your hold, and Joel goes willingly.

When he's turned and facing you, the answer is there, all over your face.

Your hands stay on his back, but your eyes are searching on every inch of his face for any sign, for anything to deter you from what you want to do.

Joel sees it. He is delusional.

"I want the impossible too," you say. It comes out in a soft whisper, and Joel mentally curses all the moments of silence between you two where he felt the air as palpable as you inside his arms right now. When you looked at him, almost through him, and he turned a blind eye to it in fear that it was exactly what he wanted and craved for. "Is it — too much?"

He's incapable of answering.

His hands come up to your face, and he fits his palm on the set of your jar, where his thumb can touch your cheeks.

You melt to the touch, eyes closing along the way.

All those times you two shared a laugh and a look, and the silence hung in the air as your eyes were unable to leave each other — this. It could've been this.

"Tell me to stop and I will," is all he can say before he dives.

Joel meets you underwater.

The same way you're drowning in his hands with all of your weight supported on his body, Joel submerges as his mouth meets your kiss.

It's a waiting game — you were waiting for the moment he'd realize, he thinks.

Joel may be out of touch with reality itself, but some things can pierce through different dimensions.

Raw things never fail to elicit the strongest form of feeling and your desire pulls him under—real, demanding.

Although he remembers being a vocal partner in bed, he has no words or taunting remarks for you—he'd rather kiss.

Your mouth parts so eagerly for him that Joel wants to shut up.

He has you shutting up, moaning in his mouth as his tongue slides on yours. His fingers grip tighter on your hair. Your arms cling to him, then both of them let go to wrap around his shoulders instead, and Joel feels the despair as you climb up higher, as you press your body harder against him.

He understands it. Empathizes, even — he's feeling it on him the same way.

Your desperate, wet kisses rekindle connections long lost in his brain.

Joel remembers the desperate and insane horniness of youth when hormones mix with inexperience and everything feels new and like a raw, open nerve.

This tastes like those moments.

It'd been so long since Joel was touched and your hands start a mapping of his body that start to get him drunk.

It hits him that it's you. He's kissing you, and you're kissing back with so much force that he has no air, there's no air in his lungs—

He pulls back, gasping, and feels your nails digging into his scalp. The moan scratches the back of his throat and Joel only notices his eyes are still closed when your forehead touches his and your breath starts mingling with his.

Opening his eyes is a blessing. And a curse, most likely.

Seeing your mouth swollen and puffy makes him greedy.

Then — "Are you stopping?" you ask. Hoarse voice. Breathless. "I didn't tell you to stop," you add, whining.

Joel picks you up in one motion, and the laughter that bubbles out of your chest reminds him that you're light — you're the ghost that pops up in his dreams shining with the pink hue of sundown and you're the hope of his mornings, the scent of coffee and pages and herbs that make him feel like this earth could still have a sense of home even if he denies that fact, gritting his teeth at the fact the world still goes on.

He pins you against the nearest wall. One without a shelf, or furniture.

With you pressed against the wall, he has better support. He can trace your thighs with his palm, can get his hands underneath your cotton shorts, your blouse.

"Are you trying to kill me?" you ask him. Your head hits the wall behind you, and Joel looks up to see you watching him as he maps you. You visibly swallow when your gazes meet, and Joel wants to say so fucking much, but nothing comes out at first.

All he wants is to make the pink on your lips become permanent.

He wants to rip every item of clothing on you with his hands, and wants to —

"Joel," you lean forward, capturing his lips in a kiss and stealing all the images he had of you pinned on your own wooden floor, cheeks pressed against it as he took you from behind.

When your tongue meets his, Joel feels something snapping.

He growls into the kiss, both of his hands groping your asscheeks as he desperately grinds his hips against your body.

This kiss is even better than the first, even if it kills all of his oxygen faster.

Joel never kissed like this. Not this messy, this wet and sloppy mess of need, and dry humping, and swallowing your moans only to have them be echoed back to you when you grind your hips down in the perfect way—

When he pulls back for air this time, Joel grips your head by the hair, making a fistful at your nape.

"This is not just now, is it?" he asks. His own voice sounds like sandpaper and pure lust, and he's not even beginning.

"No, no," you shake your head. "I need you, Joel."

"Fuckin' hell," he has more to say, but now he needs you naked. "'m gonna take off your clothes. Then I'm gonna eat your pussy 'cause I've thought about it too many fuckin' times." Your jaw falls open at him, and Joel smiles despite himself. "Yeah. You gonna let me, baby? Hm?"

Your only answer is to nod desperately, grinding against him as your eyes close.

Joel's in heaven. "Did I win what I want?" he asks.

"What?"

"My veto," he pulls you away from the wall and starts carrying you to your bedroom. "I still want it. Can't have the impossible but I can have a veto."

You laugh as he kicks your door open. "You want a fucking veto? Joel, all you have to do is hold me by the chin and say 'no' or 'yes' and I'd do it. It's that simple. Always have been. " You grab his face between your hands and pierce him with those All Seeing Eyes. "I'll give you your veto, if that's what you want." You kiss his lips, sighing softly. "'m sorry I can't promise you I'll be safe, but I can promise I'll try."

Joel knows he's about to do something that can't be taken back when he lies you down.

He nods just so you know he understood, but the knot's formed again and if he speaks, Joel will cry — the words wouldn't come out anyway, even if he wants to say them.

Joel's unsure if they haven't been burned out of his tongue.

He takes off your clothes one by one. Ironic for someone who wanted them ripped to pieces not a minute ago, but to have you laid in front of him soothes the desperation somehow.

His plans get interrupted, though, because once you're naked and all of his brain is mushed into nothing but skin skin you you touch touch touch, you stop him from kneeling down at the edge of the bed with a touch and one request, "You too?" your gaze is so open and vulnerable that his hands go to his shirt. "No — lemme. Please."

Joel does, and you do the same to him, taking his clothes off one by one.

When you drop to his knees in front of him, Joel is powerless.

He's too stunned to say or do anything but look.

Even his hands that itch to touch only manage to do so when they're flying for some support so his knees don't buckle and he falls — you grab his cock by the base with one hand, look up until his eyes are locked on yours, and then licks a wet stripe from his balls to the tip.

Then you do it again, and again, until Joel's coated in saliva, and you can suck around the tip, swallowing him down in one go.

He grips your hair for life support, cursing under his breath.

Joel's vocal about how much you're fucking killing him.

You go at it slowly, which is even more torture, but he gets it. He remembers you talking about not being with a person for the longest time. How it made no difference for you to have the physical or not because the attraction wasn't there unless there something underneath it — for someone who's out of practice, you must have the knowledge.

Your tongue runs on the sensitive skin between the dick and his balls, your mouth suctions when it's taking him down and when you start bobbing your head, using your hand to cover the parts your mouth can't reach, Joel has to physically pull you back.

"Stop, stop —" his hand on your hair pulls you back, and Joel curses again when you whine at having to let go. "'m gonna fuck you, baby, it's okay, 's okay," he gets you up by the neck, and is kissing you right after.

That's how he falls in bed with you — with his cock leaking pre-cum, his back already coated in sweat and your mouth tasting like him.

Joel eases the fall with his hand, not wanting to crush you with his weight. He wants to eat you out — Joel wants to bury his face in you, but when he makes a move to go down, your legs clamp around his waist and your head starts shaking.

You pull back from his kiss, "No — later, you can do that later, just — please," you guide your hand between your bodies to hold him and guide his cock to your entrance. "Waited too long, Joel."

I need you, Joel.

"Wait, wait — " it'll be over too fast if he sees you all the time. Joel has an idea. "A position that's better for you first. I wanna see you too, but I want you to feel good. Turn around for me."

"You want me on all fours?"

"No," he shakes his head. "Just turn around."

You obey him, and Joel grabs one of your pillows to push under your waist. You rest your cheek on the one under your head, and he positions himself first before crowding your space with his head on the crook of your neck.

He dips his fingers in first, spreading your wetness all over you before lining up.

It's sinful how good the position is.

He fills you up, bottoming all the way out. Joel's thick, but not too long, and he knows this angle is as good for you as it is for him. "Feels good?" he asks in your ear.

Your only response is his name.

"Is that a yes?" he pulls all the way out, and slams it back in, wanting to feel the drag. Wanting to feel your walls clamping around him. How you open up to accommodate all of him. "'Cause you feel like — fuckin' heaven, baby — louder, say it louder —"

"Feels amazing, Joel," you cry.

He knows it does. Joel hasn't felt anything remotely close to pleasure in a long time, so this might be too much, he might be in danger of growing an addiction, but he's past caring.

He drags it out.

Joel wanted to fuck you senseless a while ago, but now all he wants is to stay buried in the tight and warm haven of your cunt until you're both too spent to move a muscle. "'m gonna stay — all fuckin' night — inside you, baby — hm, whaddaya think?"

"Yes, please—"

"God, I love — that's all you can say to me."

"Don't stop," you cry out louder.

"I won't." He couldn't.

He doesn't want to. He doesn't.

Joel thrusts into you slow, measured and deep, until the heat in his groin is climbing like your nails digging at his sides. He loses count of how many times he sucks on your shoulders, how many bite marks you must have on your neck, of how many single-worded compliments he spills in your ears as he fucks the words out of you.

When you beg to cum, Joel flips you over and hoists your leg higher so he can go in deeper, and he fucks you the way you've been begging him to — crying around his fingers for harder, and faster, Joel, please, please, I'm not gonna break —

He gives it to you like both of you have been dying to receive, and when your legs start shaking around him and his name drops from your lips in a scream, Joel pulls out, coating your stomach in the hot strings of his cum.

He doesn't collapse on top of you, which is a miracle.

He does lay strategically next to you in order to avoid his own mess until he's able to feel his legs again.

Your fingers thread his hair during that time.

The spasms of your legs make him smile, and the little hums that leave you without you even realizing make Joel float on his bliss.

When he comes back to himself, he gets up to get a warm towel. He cleans you both, just enough so sleeping is okay. He pulls up the duvet and puts you underneath it before climbing under as well.

When he lays, Joel expects you to turn around;

Instead, you wrap around him in octopus style, and whisper, "Turn around."

He obeys, and is rewarded by you spooning him.

Joel thinks he might be dreaming.

"Are you gonna be here tomorrow?" you ask after a while.

Your bodies are as tangled as they can be. Your hands caress the hairs on his chest and your breath is on his neck, and still, you are stared he'll leave.

"D'you want scrambled eggs or you prefer the toast?" he replies.

There's a kiss on his neck. Another on his shoulder. He grabs one of your hand to pull it to his lips, and kisses it.

"Scrambled."

"'kay. Where d'you keep your sugar? I can never find it."

"I'll show you tomorrow," you kiss his shoulder, and squeeze his body. "Joel?"

"Yeah, baby?"

He can feel your smile because your lips are on his skin. He's gonna use that more, he thinks. "I might wake up rubbing myself all over you," you whisper.

He laughs. "Fine by me."

🏷️ @sakuralikestars — @mostardentily — @thegreat-annamaria — @leiticia — @polyglot-noodle — @casssiopeia — @earthtocharlene — @levylovegood — @lavenderhhze — @gracie7209 — @waywardwolfbonklight — @shadytalething — @sanzusmile —@yesimwriting — @celestialstar111 💖

⚠️ if anyone being tagged would like to not be, just let me know in my inbox (which you can also use to talk to me about all the appeals of Joel Miller with his hair slicked back, you know... or what you thought of this one.. just saying... &lt;3

#usernexusnyx #joel miller fic #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x you #joel miller drabble #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #joel miller smut #joel miller tlou #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal imagine #nightskychallenge #joel miller fanfiction

[kelppsstuff]

Something makes me wonder how would lute and Adam react if they saw exorcist reader use her thighs to crush a demon because someone managed to take away her spear from her

People who use their legs as weapons have me entranced and hopefully these two are the same

Wow… just wow

Masterlist

Warnings: violence, thoughts of nswf

Taglist: @fandomsbookclub @adamsfavoritesinner @leathesimp @mmichelleszn @sashaphantomhive @ladyninggs @sirenetheblogger @jawline-of-steel

You were a new recruit. Safe to say Adam and Lite heavily underestimated you, Honestly they didn’t even know you existed besides from when they first recruited you.

You tried hard to prove yourself. You wanted to climb the ranks. In life you were a nobody, a push over. You refused to allow your after life to be the same.

So every extermination you’d try your hardest to turn the two angels heads. This extermination was going to be no different.

—

You knocked on Adam’s office door, you had offered to do his paperwork — you can guess the reason — and had just finished.

“Yeah?!”

You cleared your voice and took a breath. “I finished the paperwork sir.” The door opened and for a moment Adam looked you up and down confused “who are you?”

What an asshole.

“Y/N. We spoke like 5 hours ago.”

Recognition crossed his face, “Oh! I remember you, ya you can just hand them over to me and see yourself out.”

Adam had ended up taking complete credit for how well written each document was, he didn’t even ask you how you managed to make an exact replica of his signature on every page.

—

“Best time for flying is Y/N. Y/N? Do we have a Y/N” Lute asked looking around the crowd. Ironically she seemed to know everyone else besides you.

You raised your hand and hid the annoyance on your face. “Here.” Lute gestured for you to walk up and take the medal.

It was honestly the first time you’ve ever had proof of your hard work. It was also the first time Lute remembered your face, not your name.

—

Everyone was lined up. Lute and Adam were giving their usual pep talk while the rest of you were eagerly listening.

“We are going to go down there and fuck them up!” Adam screamed out followed by lute “fuck them up yeah!”

“I don’t want anyone coming back without blood on their hands! Now ladies, strike!!!!”

Your wings spread as did the others around you. You took flight and the bloodbath began. Angels were killing sinners left and right.

A sinner jumped onto your back as you killed one. You hurried to sling them off before absolutely destroy his body with your glowing white spear.

You were pissed off now.

You heard Lute groan and looked over to her. You rushed over to her and pushed the weird looking sinner off.

You pushed the sinner one more time before kicking his knees out and getting behind them, slitting there throat.

Lute eyes widened, your hair was darker and looked wet, while your skin and wings were stained red.

You gave her a glance and walked away. It was like you didn’t even knew her ranked, it made her feel a rush.

—

As the fight dragged on everyone started to leave, but you had one more you decided to kill. One more you refused to let get away. If you killed this last one you’d effectively would have most kills. Adam and Lute would have to recognize you.

Adam and Lute did once last sweep together to make sure all angels had started to return through the portal. It was the they saw you on the ground.

You tackled a sinner and while rolling on the ground they had bit you while also grabbing her spear, thankfully you didn’t bleed. As the started to run your eyes darkened.

You didn’t let them get far, you hurried to use your wings, landing in front of the you wrapped your legs around there head and use your hips to twisted their neck. Snapping it.

You rolled up to your feet and made eye contact with the two angels watching you from above, your gaze filled with red. Blood red.

Adam smirked, his face showed exactly what he was thinking, ‘me next.’ While Lute unexpectedly winked to you, also having the same ‘me next’ look.

However that’s not what they were thinking at least that wasn’t there first thought. Their first thought was “wow… just wow.” Two idiots didn’t realize they said it out loud.

Your blood soaked wings spread out and you took flight. Going back to heaven to clean up.

—

“Most kills belongs to Y/N.” You had expected their confused gaze but instead Adam smirked while Lute pointed to you.

You finally had their attention, and you would never leave their gaze or minds again for your soul weather you knew it or not would belong to them, no matter what.”

Ahhh I hope I satisfy your vision!

#hazbin hotel #hazbin #masterlist #x reader #adam hazbin hotel #adam is actually hilarious #adam x reader #hazbin hotel lute #adam x lute #lute x reader #hazbin lute #lute

[fettuccin-e]

Hard-Pressed

okay gang this fic is dedicated to @fleurfairie because she sent me an ask for virgin!reader with big dick steve and i tried answering it and then i deleted it like fucking dumbass,,, so harmonia, this is for you! so there isn't any actual penetration in this, BUT it is one of the horniest fics i have ever created with HEAVY emphasis on steves gigantic dick,, so please enjoy

Tags: Steve Harrington x Reader, virgin!afab!reader, really light degradation, hung!steve, no actual penetration but talks about it, uhhh humping?? haha

You really should have known that Steve had his reputation in high school as “King Steve” for a reason. Getting together with him had been far too easy for there not to be a catch. Kissing him for the first time had been as easy as breathing, meeting his lips in a chaste embrace in his car after dropping the kids off at the arcade. Going on dates with him, holding his hand, doing all of the things people in relationships do together; it all had come second nature, as if you had both been doing this for years.

The only thing tripping you up, embarrassingly, was actually engaging in one of the so-called “benefits” of a relationship. The… sex part.

When you had told Steve that you’re a virgin, he hadn’t made you feel embarrassed in the slightest, kissing you lovingly with a hand cupping your cheek. “I could show you, if you want, sweetheart. But if you don’t want to, if you don’t ever want to, I am perfectly happy just being with you. I don’t need the other stuff, you know?”

You just shook your head hard, hard enough to make Steve laugh at your vehemence. “No,” you had said, “I want it, Stevie. You have no idea how much I want it, okay? I mean, have you seen yourself? How could I not want you? I think I just, uh, need to practice, I guess. Taking stuff, y’know, uh, inside?” Your face had been burning, but you took comfort in the sight of Steve’s cheeks heating up in a blush as well. He had grinned though, one of his hands trailing down to brush at your hip.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he had murmured. “I would be honored.”

And thus started the process of your training to take Steve’s cock. One night, he had just inched a finger inside, the digit long and calloused inside you, while he licked and sucked at your clit until you gushed all over his face. A week later, he worked two fingers inside, crooking them up into a spot that you didn’t even know existed, while he pressed a thick thumb onto your clit. He had held you while you shook like a leaf, kissing you softly while working you through your orgasm. It was a strange sensation at first, having something inside you like that, but Steve’s talented fingers and pretty mouth made you grateful that you had waited. 

But there still are some nights, like tonight, that you don’t really want one of Steve’s fingers inside you. You don’t really want anything inside, even though Steve’s so warm against you, his big arm wrapped around your shoulders, and the ache between your thighs is impossible to ignore. The sensation of taking things inside is still new, as strange to get used to as it is pleasurable, and tonight you don’t want to have to breathe through your nose as Steve slowly stretches you open. You just want to cum, hard, in the only way you can when you’re with Steve.

Damn, what has this boy done to you?

It’s fairly innocent, the both of you in Steve’s big, empty house, cuddled up together while watching a movie, and it strikes you that Steve has no idea. He has no idea that you’re so wet underneath the pajama pants that he has so graciously lended to you. He has no idea that you’re thinking about his head between your thighs, licking at your clit and telling you how good you are, how pretty you are for him when you cum. He has no idea that you had made yourself cum before he had picked you up from your house to take you to his, rubbing your clit with Steve’s name on your lips.

You glance up to gaze at your boyfriend, only to find his eyes already trained on you, not the movie. He grins boyishly, and your heart skips what feels like three beats at once. It’s hard sometimes, wrapping your head around how handsome Steve is, and that you get to call him yours. You lean up to press a kiss to his lips, unable to help yourself. Steve is already meeting you halfway there.

“Stevie?” you murmur against his mouth.

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Can I try something?” you breathe, trying to tamp down your nerves. “It’s something, y’know, um, something sex- uh, sex-related?”

Steve chokes on a breath, blood suddenly rushing down to his cock. You’re a virgin, inexperienced and pretty nervous when it comes to the things you and Steve do in the bedroom, but Steve thinks you’re the sexiest thing in the damn world. And you don’t even try, which is like, half of Steve’s problem. He doesn’t think he’s had this many poorly-timed hard-ons since he was fifteen, but being with you just makes it happen. And you have no idea.

“Yeah, baby,” he chokes out, breaking himself out of his thoughts. “Anything you want.”

“What if I wanna see your cock?” you blurt out, and Steve’s eyes widen at your language, shocked at your confidence, before he remembers himself. He wants you to be confident, wants you to tell him what you want.

“Okay, sweetheart,” he says, “but if you wanna, y’know, tak-” he starts, but you cut him off.

“I’m not gonna try to, uh, get it inside me. But, I just, I wanna, y’know, I wanna get, I just, shit, uh- oh fuck it,” you growl, frustrated at the fact that you can’t even find the words to tell him what you want. “Just, Stevie, can you take your pants off?”

You don’t have to tell him twice, evidently. Steve takes his arm from around your shoulders to shove his sweatpants down his thighs, letting his achingly hard cock to slap up against his stomach, and holy shit. Holy shit. 

He was “King Steve” for a very good reason. You obviously don’t have a lot of experience, but anyone could see how huge Steve Harrington is, especially with his cock hard and sticky and curved against his stomach, veins pulsing and aching for your touch.

This is the catch. Everything has been easy, so easy with Steve. But handling that? Shit, that’s going to be hard. In, uh, more ways than one.

There’s a brief feeling of panic that sinks into your stomach, a thought of ‘how is that ever going to fit’ ricocheting around your brain. But that thought isn’t important tonight, and even if it was, you know that Steve would never, ever take the chance of hurting you, no matter how desperate you are. 

You eye the fucking monster between Steve’s legs as you stand, hoping that you look at least somewhat sexy as you slide Steve’s pajama pants down your legs, taking your panties with them. The cool air of the room meets your exposed cunt, making you throb desperately as you glance at Steve’s face. You want to giggle at his wide eyed expression, his gaze trained on your needy, dripping pussy.

You stalk forward, slowly, pushing lightly at his shoulder until he twists, laying down on the couch, his cock thick and throbbing against his stomach. You try to take a subtle, calming breath through your nose before you swing a leg over your boyfriend’s lap, straddling him just over his cock. You hear his breath hitch, just barely.

“Is this okay?” you whisper, wanting to make sure that Steve wants it just as much as you do.

“Yeah,” he breathes, “so much. Want it so much, baby. You just, you gotta be careful, okay?”

“Okay, Steve,” you smile, before sinking your hips down and resting the dripping heat of your pussy on Steve’s thick cock. He’s thick enough that he spreads the lips of your cunt apart, and you can feel how wide he is against your tight entrance. 

You relish in Steve’s choked up moan, before rocking your hips, slow and experimental, and fuck. The veins along his length press into your clit as you rock against him, before nudging against the thick head. He’s hot and so hard between your thighs, pressed against the most intimate parts of you, and it’s so, so fucking good.

Steve moans softly as you rock back and forth against him, his fingers digging into your hips. It feels so dirty, his cock spreading your pussy apart, sliding against the tiny, tight little entrance of your cunt. You’re so wet, soaking his cock and getting him so sticky as you rock against him, frantic for it.

“My needy baby,” he mutters, and you whine in response, leaning forward to nudge your head into the crook of Steve’s neck, but not stopping your movements. You grind, desperate and throbbing, against his cock. “So innocent, baby, but you’re so dirty,” Steve continues. “My little virgin baby. Never touched a cock before, but you’re not innocent, are you? No, baby, I know what you are, sweet girl. Do you know what you are?” You shake your head against Steve’s neck, rocking your hips hard against him, your thighs trembling.

“You’re a slut,” he whispers, and you gasp, your cunt clenching hard against Steve, and he feels it. He feels it and moans, his hips twitching up to press himself harder between your legs. “My slut, just for me,” Steve continues, “I’m the only one who gets to see you like this, who has ever seen you like this, right sweet girl? Nobody else knows how needy you are, how much you need someone to make you cum. You wanna cum like this baby? Grinding against my cock like a slut?”

Steve uses the grip he has on your hips to pull you onto him, again and again, the ridges of his cock moving against your sticky, throbbing clit and you whine into his neck. “Yes, yes, need it so fucking bad, Steve, need to cum, please baby,” you whimper, and Steve moans in response. He shifts his hips up as he pulls you against him, and it’s almost like he’s fucking you for real. He’s so close, so close, and you want him to fuck you so bad, so fucking bad. Your hips twitch hard, and Steve grins, doing it again, and again.

“This is how I could fuck you, baby. Could just sink into your tight little cunt, baby, stretch you so wide to take my cock. You want it, baby, I know you do.”

“Yes,” you gasp, unable to help it. “Want you to fuck me so bad, you’d feel so good, so good in me. I’m so empty Stevie, oh god. Wanna be your slut, wanna be yours, I-”

“You are mine, sweet girl, all mine. Next time, next time I’ll fuck you for real, yeah? But right now,” he mutters, his hips desperately thrusting his fat cock against your sopping cunt, “I want you to soak my cock with this pretty pussy.”

It doesn’t take long after that, not when you’re both writhing against each other, minds fuzzy with need. The knot in your stomach is tightening, tightening, pulling taught, until it snaps without warning, sending you spiraling into a desperate orgasm. Your pussy clenches and throbs hard against Steve’s cock as you cry Steve’s name softly into his shoulder. 

“Fuck, so good, baby, doing so good, so sexy for me, fuck baby-” Steve groans and you can feel how his cock pulses, shooting hot cum between you both. You can’t help the daydream of him coming inside you, of it dripping out of your used cunt.

Next time. Next time.

You both breathe together for a moment, Steve’s cock softening slowly beneath you, before you meet his lips in a soft kiss. “Thank you, Steve,” you murmur, and you nearly giggle at how quickly Steve’s eyes shoot open, his hands tightening again on your hips.

“Thank me? No, baby, thank you. Made me feel so good, sweetheart,” Steve says, peppering kisses over your face and grinning at your happy giggles. “Love you, baby,” he whispers, like it’s a secret.

“I love you too, Stevie,” you say, and you don’t think you’ve ever been more confident in anything before.

#steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fic #stranger things x you #stranger things smut #stranger things x reader

[blushweddinggowns]

Prompt number 2 bc I’m praying for more jealous Steve content. Bc Eddie can be so oblivious and Steve can be such a bitch and those things are so important to me

Eddie was a glutton for self-punishment, that was the only reasonable explanation he could come up with on what the fuck he was doing here. Sitting at some random gay bar as he watched the man he loved dance the night away with his bestfriend.

He just had to volunteer to be their designated driver. Maybe it was stupid, but Eddie thought that y'know, a gay bar meant that no he would not have to watch Steve flirt with some randos. But he forgot the small detail that bisexual people existed. And he had seen at least three damn girls slip Steve their number.

Which was just...so fucking cruel. Why did life always have to do him so dirty? Eddie had thought that maybe...if they went to this type of place together Steve's mind would open up a bit. A stupid fucking thought honestly. Based off of nearly nothing. Like, okay sure, Steve was all touchy feely with him sometimes. When he was high or drunk suddenly Eddie became his personal chair. And he would say just...the sweetest shit. Going on and on about how happy he was to have met him, how he's so glad he's alive and well, how funny Eddie was, how nice and sweet and pretty and...and all of it had sent his traitorous brain into a tailspin that had him thinking he actually had a chance with a straight guy.

And the fucked up part was that Eddie had really tried to start doing the right thing. He put a little distance between them when he figured out that he was past a silly crush. No he was head over heels for the guy and he needed to get over it. Fast. And if he could just start saying no when Steve called to get high or have a few beers together he probably would have made some progress by now.

But no, he was still to eager for contact with him to say no. Which made him feel like a creep, always waiting around for Steve to be a little out of his mind just so he could get a hug.

When did he become so pathetic?

The only slight comfort he had tonight was the fact that he wasn't alone. It really wasn't fair to bring a straight guy to a place like this, but at least every guy who had eyes on Steve was going to have to suffer in silence with him.

And some of them were kind of cute. Cute enough for Eddie to try and use one as a distraction. He was sitting next to a preppy looking guy, talking to him a little bit. Maybe he shouldn't have set his eyes on someone that kind of looked like Steve, but fuck it. His name was Andrew, and he was nice, a good flirt. The perfect diversion for when Eddie could tear his eyes away from Steve.

And things were actually getting a little interesting with him. He had his hand on Eddie's arm, leaning in to loudly whisper everything he said in Eddie's ear. He was smiling at him, close enough for Eddie to see the pretty gold flakes in his eyes.

They weren't as pretty as Steve's but they'd do.

Andrew tucked a bit of Eddie's hair back behind his ear, leaning in again. But he didn't go for his ear this time, no, he was zeroing in right to Eddie's lips. Not that he was complaining, he let it happen, a sweet, light kiss that had zero time to escalate to more.

Because suddenly, someone was tugging at his arm, hard enough to force Eddie's whole body back, nearly out of his chair. He blinked, more than a little startled to see Steve coming out of nowhere, clinging onto him with that stupid, gorgeous smile.

"Eddieeee," Steve whined, completely ignoring Andrew's presence, "Robin ditched me to make out with someone in the bathroom."

Eddie couldn't help but smile a little bit, despite the fact that he was definitely interrupting what was probably the first good thing about this night. He glanced over at Andrew, who was staring at them, wide-eyed before saying, "Uh, I didn't know you had a boyfriend."

"I don't-"

"I can't hear you in here," Steve loudly interrupted, looking adorably confused, "Come outside with me?"

If Eddie was smart, he would have gently pried Steve's hands off him before sending him off to find Robin. But...a drunk Steve was also a very cute and cuddly one. So fuck it, Eddie could find a rebound for his non-existent relationship next weekend.

He shrugged at Andrew, mouthing a quick apology at him before Steve started to drag him outside through the back door. Eddie half expected Steve to do his usual routine when he was toasted. Sweetly asking for a piggy back ride that Eddie literally could never refuse before falling asleep on his back. Then he'd get him in the car, wrangle Robin from wherever the hell she was, and they'd be off.

But the second they were stepping outside Steve was straightening up and stepping back, to Eddie's immediate confusion. He leaned against the wall, glaring at Eddie in a way he had never seen. Or at least directed at him.

"So," Steve started, his tone way too close to how he sounded when one of the kids pissed him off, "Who was that guy? You looked pretty cozy in there."

Eddie's brain was still struggling to catch up to the change in atmosphere here. But he tried to answer anyway, "I mean we were but-wait. Why are you not drunk? You were literally just-"

"It's called acting dipshit," Steve mumbled, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Which ow, rude. But his next words hurt even more, "Not like I have a choice, since you only seem to like me when I'm fucked up."

Eddie could feel his heart stop in his chest. He didn't-oh no. Oh god. Steve figured out he was a creep. A creep who was probably moments away from getting his ass handed to him.

Eddie swallowed, at a loss for what to say. But he still tried, "I-look dude it's um, it's not like that. I didn't- I wasn't trying to make you uncomfortable-"

"Then why the fuck would you kiss another guy right in front of me?"

Okay. That was enough of that. Yes, Steve could be mad about him being creepy, but no he couldn't be mad over having to bear witness for a gay kiss at a gay bar, "Well if I had known that you were apparently only okay with seeing girls kiss each other I wouldn't have come out tonight at all! Honestly Steve, how can you even say that? Like that is some real dumbass levels of homophobia, even for you. I thought the King Steve thing had died-"

"Shut the fuck up oh my god," Steve hissed out, "Are you really that damn dense? That's what you think I'm upset about? Are you fucking kidding me? And I'm the dumbass?"

"Then why are you mad?" Eddie half asked, half yelled.

“I’m not mad," Steve seethed, like he didn't look about five seconds away from choking Eddie out, "I...I just think you can choose better people to kiss.”

Maybe he really was drunk after all. Because now he wasn't making any damn sense.

Eddie pinched the bridge of his nose, beyond frustrated, "Who Steve? Like, I'm sorry to break this to you but not all of us can fucking look like you do alright? We're not all charming, golden Adonis basketball players okay? And sometimes you need to take what you can get. And there was nothing wrong with Andrew-"

"You think I look like a golden Adonis?" Steve interrupted, a weird expression on his face. He looked almost...hopeful? But that didn't make any sense.

"That's what you got out of that?" Eddie asked, exasperated, "I-come one dude. You know you're hot. But that's not my point."

"Well it's mine!" Steve groaned. He was biting his lips, a very distracting nervous habit that Eddie had picked up on, "Because what the fuck are we even doing? You think I'm so hot, so charming, so great, and you decide to kiss someone else in front of me? What the fuck is that? Do you like seeing me jealous? Do you get off on me pining? Please explain."

You see, that was the funny thing about Eddie's brain. One second he was lost, staring at Steve's red, bitten lips, and the next he was desperately trying to catch up with what just came out of his mouth. All of it the perfect blend to effectively shut his brain off completely.

Eddie stared at him, his words as dumb as how his face probably looked, "I-what? Huh?"

Steve narrowed his eyes at him, "Are we really doing this? Are you going to pretend like it's all in my head?"

"I-no. I just-please explain," Eddie is pretty damn sure he had never stuttered through a sentence that hard in his life.

"I've been coming on to you for months and you just keep giving me all of these mixed signals and..." Steve sighed, looking away, "I'm so sick of it Eddie. If you don't like me just say that! Stop whatever this is. Because it's mean and you know it. If you want a better option then just take it already and leave me alone."

He-what-that didn't even- Steve was straight, wasn't he? And now the stuttering had invaded his thoughts. Because if he actually understood all of that then...

He was the biggest idiot on the planet.

And his stunned silence was not helping anything.

Steve sighed, pushing himself away from the wall. He turned away, "I'm going to find Robin. We can just...act like this didn't happen I guess. I'm done."

Eddie had to give himself on thing, at least his body was working a lot faster than his brain. Steve barely had time to take a single step away before he was shooting his hand out to grab his wrist, stopping him in his tracks.

"I didn't know you were an option!" Eddie blurted out, his heart hammering in his chest, "I-Stevie I thought all of it was in my head. I-I thought that you were straight and we were just hanging out-"

"You think I sit in the laps of my other guy friends?" Steve asked, completely unimpressed, "While playing with their hair and calling them beautiful? Really, dude?"

Eddie nodded, sure and fast, "Steve, I had to do my senior year three damn times. I'm not always the smartest okay? And in my defense you never mentioned like dudes-"

"Yes I have," Steve interrupted, "When you came out to me, I told you to your face that I understand. That I could relate about hiding things and not talking about it. I literally said we were in the same boat. What else could that mean?"

Eddie remembered that, crystal clear. But..."I thought you were talking about PTSD, not secretly being into dudes."

"One dude," Steve corrected, but he was relaxing a little, thank fuck. Maybe Eddie could still fix this.

He took a deep breath, using his hold on Steve's wrist to pull him closer. His hands were fucking shaking, bad enough for Steve to almost certainly notice when he rested them on his hips.

This was it, he might as well be as clear as humanly possible, "I am so into you. Like a scary amount. Like I'm...borderline in love with you."

He was completely in love with him, but he didn't have the balls to say that bit out loud. He kept going, "And I didn't know you felt the same way. At all. Like I am dangerously close to having a stroke from hearing all of that. You kind of flipped my world upside down there."

Steve huffed out a laugh. Eddie may have fucked up everything leading up to this point, but Steve was eating his little speech right up. He shuffled a little closer, wrapping his arms around Eddie's neck with a small smile, "Keep going."

"I thought that I had no chance. I mean even tonight, people couldn't stop looking at you. And you got those numbers-"

"I threw them away," Steve interrupted, "You missed that part."

He had definitely missed that part, too caught up in his own head. But that didn't stop a smile from breaking out on Eddie's face, "Good. Because if you want me, you have me. I'm all yours, in any way you want me. Understand? Fuck, Stevie if I had known any of this we'd be the ones making out in the bathroom right now. And I'm sorry about..."

For the life of him Eddie couldn't remember his name, not when he had Steve smiling at him in his arms, "The other guy. But it literally means nothing to me. Not if I get to have you. Do...do I get to have you?"

Steve hummed, pretending to think about it while he played with a lock of Eddie's hair, "I guess that depends. Is making out in the bathroom still on the table?"

"Fuck yes it is."

Steve grinned, leaning up to press the sweetest little kiss to the side of Eddie's mouth, "Then I guess you have me then."

#steddie #steddie ficlet #silly steddie #asks #bitch steve #i think this might be helping? #with the inspiration lack? #unsure #but thank you for the prompt <3 #Honestly I really prefer jealous Eddie #but for you anon you'll get jealous Steve! #Robin meanwhile is having the time of her life in that bathroom #let the girl have her hoe phase #poor andrew #lol #im pretty sure this isn't the first time ive fucked over an andrew #one more to go~

[svsss-fanon-exposed]

Exposing SVSSS Fanon: 24/∞

APHRODISIAC-PRODUCING PLANTS ARE AN EVER-PRESENT DANGER IN THE WORLD OF PIDW

Rating: FANON - UNSUPPORTED

One of the most common tropes that I have ever seen all across SVSSS fanfiction is the use of aphrodisiac-releasing plants or "fuck-or-die" plants, as a plot device in order to get two characters together. Surprisingly enough, however, there is not a single mention of such plants existing in PIDW.

I debated on whether to rate this as neutral or unsupported, since typically I will choose neutral when there isn't any kind of evidence for or against something-- however, in this case, I chose unsupported due to the sheer amount of times that SQQ's narration references the sex scenes and plot devices in PIDW, and the fact that not once was any specifically sex-related plant mentioned among them.

We do know that there are all sorts of rare plants used as plot devices in PIDW:

"Do you still remember creating a plant that only appears every thousand years?” Shang Qinghua was speechless. “Your description is way too broad. Bing-ge’s eaten at least eighty, if not a hundred plants like that.” (7 Seas, Ch. 5)

and

...the number of mythical flowers in Proud Immortal Demon Way numbered at least in the hundreds, and every single one was at least a thousand years old, and when you added on all the mythical grasses and mythical trees, who the hell could remember all those names?! (7 Seas, Ch. 3)

Naturally, we also do not know all of these plants, so it cannot be said with certainty what sort of plants are included or excluded from the set. However, the effects of the plants we do know of are as follows:

Thousand-Leaves Snow Petal Lotus

"This flower has grown within the depths of Jue Di Gorge for thousands of years. Its spiritual qi is extraordinary, and furthermore, it is the natural bane of creatures from the Demon Realm. It emits an innate barrier that repels demonic beasts." (7 Seas, Ch. 4)

Additionally, when Luo Binghe absorbed the flower, it increased his abilities, likely due to the spiritual qi contained within it:

Incidentally, he even absorbed the nutrients of the mythical flower the girl had just eaten, and so his martial ability once again made great progress (7 Seas, Ch. 3)

Sun-Moon Dew Mushroom

The Sun-Moon Dew Mushroom was also called the “flesh mushroom,” and this name was entirely literal. Though this mushroom wasn’t especially useful for cultivating, it still grew by collecting spiritual energy from nature along with essence from the sun and moon. If you planted its sprout in soil rich with spiritual energy, nurtured it, meticulously sculpted it, and watered it with blood and qi, once it matured, you could cultivate a living body of flesh. The body could grow just fine, but it was impossible to also create a soul via this method. That was to say, you could only grow a soulless, empty shell. (7 Seas, Ch. 9)

This is by far the most well-known of the mystical plants of SVSSS, considering the fact that it directly contributes to a major plotline. It is also notable that this plant was not used by Luo Binghe in PIDW:

In [SQQ's] defense, this mushroom wasn’t reserved for Luo Binghe. Rather, it was supposed to be for one of his opponents... ...If it were a thing that affected the main plotline, or if it were some mystical flower or herb meant to provide one of Luo Binghe’s power-ups, he wouldn’t have had the guts to try and steal it. (7 Seas, Ch. 5)

Also notable here is the mention of mystical flowers and herbs providing Luo Binghe's power-ups-- this is seemingly the primary purpose of mystical plants in PIDW.

The Ties That Bind

This is the final mystical plant mentioned in SVSSS-- and also the only one with a negative effect:

This plant sowed its seeds in the bodies of living beings, and they were especially attracted to people who gave off energy. Recklessly deploying one’s spiritual or demonic energy attracted these seeds to oneself. That was why Shen Qingqiu had stuck to physical combat as much as possible and avoided using his spiritual energy. When Ties That Bind seeds entered one’s flesh, they didn’t hurt, only faintly itched. But once they sprouted from the flesh that was their soil and burst forth through the skin, every inch of rent flesh from which they grew erupted in violent agony. Furthermore, the more you used your spiritual energy, the faster they grew. If you went as far as to use a spiritual blast, they would sprout like mad, budding in an instant. (7 Seas, Ch. 16)

Now, obviously, since there are only three of these plants mentioned within SVSSS, it is far from the eighty to a hundred mystical flowers, plus the additional trees and grasses, which we know nothing about at all. It wouldn't at all be unlikely for one of these many plants to have an aphrodisiac effect, or to produce a fuck-or-die poison-- but I personally feel that it would be likely for Shen Qingqiu to mention this directly in his narration had it been as common trope in PIDW as many fanworks imply.

Of course, it isn't unreasonable for fandom to come to the conclusion that such plants were present in the PIDW world-- after all, sex pollen is a fairly common trope, and PIDW contained a great variety of sex scenes. However, here it is important to note that Proud Immortal Demon Way WAS NOT purely an erotica, porn, or hentai novel. Fundamentally, it is a power fantasy-- and papapa scenes are just one part of that power fantasy.

In the original text, it is described as "YY", which is a slang term that literally translates to something like "mind masturbation"-- but that doesn't mean purely sexual content, instead it refers to a wish-fulfillment, escapist setting, a non-academic fantasy world, where the primary focus is on the main character becoming more and more powerful, overcoming more obstacles-- in Luo Binghe's case, this includes defeating all of his past enemies and marrying all of the beautiful women he came across. The sex scenes were just one part of the power fantasy-- erotica for erotica's sake was not the goal.

That isn't to say that PIDW didn't feature an abundance of sex scenes-- after all, that was one of if not the most-desired plotlines, and Airplane was made to cut backstory content in favor of them:

"And back then, everyone in the comments section was saying they wanted to see the other plotline, right? The one where Bing-ge bravely conquered a hundred flowers, you understand. A whole hundred holy flower spirits who had from their birth never laid eyes on a man, and all of them virgins. Cucumber-bro, how I suffered while writing the chapter of the hundred flower buds’ first mass-blooming! And still you roast me…” (7 Seas, Ch. 14)

Still, the power-fantasy of PIDW encompassed many different factors-- the battles and revenge against the villains and the ever-increasing power level as stronger and stronger enemies were defeated were just as important as the sex scenes and harem plotlines to the overall effect of the story.

My hypothesis for the origin of the theory that "the world of PIDW is full of fuck-or-die plants" is that it comes from the common sex-pollen trope in erotica and fanfiction, PIDW's reputation as containing quite a lot of erotic material, as well as a few select passages of SVSSS which link plants and flowers with sex-- one of which is the passage above, regarding the hundred flower spirits. I think that the more significant root for this theory, though, is the curing of Without a Cure through sex.

In SVSSS fanfiction, I have found it most common that the sex-inducing plants are specifically of the fuck-or-die variety (therefore, able to be categorized as poison) rather than the pure aphrodisiac variety. This lines up quite well with Qin Wanyue's affliction by Without a Cure in PIDW-- and its subsequent cure:

Then, in the end, how was the poison cured? After the down and dirty scene, the girl’s poison was naturally cured! Was it ridiculous? Cliché? Implausible? …But it was satisfying, right? Ridiculously satisfying, so ridiculously satisfying, ha ha ha ha… Look, Luo Binghe was of both human and demon blood, right? And the demon half of his bloodline came from their number one Saintly Ruler—from the heavenly demons of old! A wee little demonic poison wasn’t even strong enough to get stuck between Luo Binghe’s teeth, and he instantly absorbed and digested it during their you know. (7 Seas, Ch. 3)

However, the poison itself had little to do with either flowers or sex-- it was simply an incurable poison, which just so happened to be cured by dual-cultivation with a half-Heavenly Demon. There's a debate to be had as to whether the sex itself was the cure, or if it was Luo Binghe's bodily fluids in any form (curable by his blood as well), but that is all a topic for another post. Regardless, though this created a fuck-or-die scenario, it had nothing to do with fuck-or-die plants. Even in this scenario, the sex was only coincidentally a cure, with the characters not aware of it until afterwards:

The girl thought, “Since I’m about to die, I must leave behind some memories to ensure that my life won’t have been in vain. I don’t have many days left, after all, so I won’t suppress my feelings anymore.” Then, using her weak and fragile body, she pushed Luo Binghe down. (7 Seas, Ch. 3)

Now, we do know that aphrodisiacs do exist in the world of PIDW, but only one aphrodisiac is actually mentioned, which is produced by succubi:

Even if he was Great Master Liu, being poisoned by the succubi’s natural, innate Mesmerizing Fragrance—or in other words, their aphrodisiac, was profoundly…not good! (7 Seas, Ch. 23)

It's perfectly likely for other aphrodisiacs to exist in the world of PIDW, and for plants with aphrodisiac effects to exist, and it wouldn't be a stretch to say that such plants may have been used in some of the many, many harem plotlines. However, the aphrodisiac here is an ability belonging to a certain type of demon rather than a plant, and this is the only time where it is mentioned that some external cause is meant to induce lust in someone (Xin Mo is a matter for a future post as well). Rather, it seems that harem members are mainly drawn in by Luo Binghe's power, talent, looks, and generally magnetic appeal, rather than being forcibly drawn in through aphrodisiac plants or specifically fuck-or-die poisons.

Everything in PIDW was about bringing satisfaction to the (male) readers-- so, to determine whether fuck-or-die plants would have been a common plot device, we would need to ask would this plot device provide such satisfaction? It could-- but that would also depend on how it is portrayed. In fanfiction, both parties are often rendered helpless by whichever plot-device plant is being used as a means to get the characters together. In PIDW, though, I feel like it might play out a little more differently-- likely, there would be more plotlines in which Bing-ge himself was not affected, but instead generously helped out whichever maiden was currently afflicted and suffering, through which the romantic relationship was established.

Of course, it would still depend a lot on the specific plotline being followed, so this is more of just a suggestion to consider how the mechanics of such a plant would work to provide satisfaction to PIDW's target demographic, and whether to follow or subvert those expectations and tropes. Alternatively, because of the genre shift that occured during SVSSS, it wouldn't be out of place to include tropes more common to danmei, or to fanfiction, in that universe-- where it may be more common to have scenarios where both parties (especially the POV character) are incapacitated and affected. Every writer, of course, has the freedom to explore whichever tropes and plotlines they wish to-- but it could be interesting to look into genre tropes and see how they may or may not apply.

Typically, these arguments would lead to a neutral rating, rather than unsupported, since there is no direct evidence against the existence of such plants-- however, this post is not primarily meant to address the existence, but rather the prevelence. The existence of aphrodisiac or fuck-or-die plants in the world of PIDW would be neutral or even somewhat likely, but the topic being analyzed is the common fanfiction trope that within the world of PIDW, fuck-or-die plants appear frequently and are a well-known, common threat that the cultivation world's inhabitants must be prepared to face at any time.

I think that if that were the case in PIDW, there would have at least been one single mention in Shen Qingqiu's narration of a fuck-or-die or even an aphrodisiac plant-- perhaps as something that he himself would need to prepare for and worry about after transmigrating. However, there is no such mention-- therefore, while they may exist, it is not likely that sex-inducing plants are an overly common sight in the world of PIDW. The mystical plants seen in SVSSS are either poisons, power-ups, or utilities, and it is implied that most of the many other plants in PIDW would also fall into that category.

#fanon exposed #unsupported #svsss

[withacapitalp]

How to Rehabilitate a Jock Pt 20

Part Nineteen Part One Link to ao3

A huge thank you to so many people but it's especially @thefreakandthehair for betaing, being the best, and generally encouraging all of my nuttiness. Also a big shout out to Bowie ( don't remember your Tumblr my lovely!!) for doublechecking some sensititvity reading for me. Y'all rock!!!

Jeff had the decency to wait until Frank was safely in his house before he called Eddie out on his shit. 

“What the fuck are you doing, man?” Jeff sighed the second the door closed behind Frank, leaving only the snow, Eddie’s headlights, and two best friends about to have an incredibly awkward conversation. 

“Driving you dicks home?” Eddie tried, hoping that he could fool Jeff into not having the uncomfortable conversation that was already beginning. He kicked the van into reverse, throwing a hand casually over Jeff’s seat as he turned and began to maneuver his way back to the road. 

“Eddie.”

It wasn’t much. It wasn’t anything really. Just his name, nothing more, nothing less, but it was Jeff’s tone. 

That voice, the voice he always used when he was trying to cut through Gareth and Eddie’s bullshit. Corroded Coffin had lasted all these years because of balance. Frank was their rock, steady and sure; Eddie and Gareth were the stream, bouncing and playing and whirling around in a daze; but Jeff was the earth around them. Jeff was everything, and Eddie might be their leader, but Jeff was the one that held everything together. 

And he was the only one who could get Eddie to drop the act with just one word. 

“Honestly, dude? I have no fucking idea what I’m doing,” Eddie sighed, slightly curling in on himself as he focused on the road. The snow was only mildly awful at the moment, but winter in Indiana could turn on a dime and Eddie wasn’t looking to run his van off the road just because Jeff was grilling him about his stupid little completely non-existent crush. 

“Well, what do you want from him?” Jeff asked, dragging the first word slowly out as he thought about what he wanted to say. Sometimes the other members of Hellfire would do things like that— talk slow or choose words carefully, just to try and avoid Eddie’s sparky temper. 

Unfortunately for him, Eddie was already worked up about this particular topic. 

“Great question!” Eddie snapped, going to throw his hands up before choosing to be wise and hold the wheel steady. A small squall was beginning to form around them, and his visibility was starting to cut to next to none.

“Okay, okay,” Jeff said, placating to Eddie’s need to be a bit of an asshat, “So what happened between you and Steve that’s got Gareth so pressed?”

If it was any other person in the car with him, Eddie might have been able to fake it. Even Frank might have fallen for a lie about Gareth’s hatred of jocks and conformity and how Steve was just a representation of that. 

But it was Jeff. Jeff, who was their Earth, who knew that Gareth’s grudge wouldn’t have lasted this long if it wasn’t motivated by protectiveness. That the only reason Gareth wouldn’t have started to warm up even a little bit was his need to make sure his people were safe. 

Few things in life were assured, but death, taxes, and Gareth Winston’s need to protect his own were all a given.  

“Steve probably doesn’t even remember, so it doesn’t matter,” Eddie muttered, evading the question just as he narrowly evaded a pothole that seemed to appear out of thin air on the road in front of them. The storm was picking back up again, and this was not the conversation to be having right at this moment.  

“Well, do you want him to fuck you?” Jeff asked bluntly, cutting through the fat and straight to the juicy meat of the problem. 

“Jeff!” Eddie blurted out, a nervous burst of laughter escaping along with his name. He took the risk of looking away from the road for a few seconds to give the other boy a wild-eyed look, but Jeff seemed unphased, cool as a cucumber as a lion’s smile began to curl on his face. 

“Do you want to fuck him?” 

Unbidden, a dozen images flashed through Eddie’s head. Steve in his bed. Steve shirtless. Steve underneath him with his hair splayed out on the pillows, wrists trapped in gleaming silver cuffs as he begged so pretty for—

No. 

No no no no no no NO. 

“Dude!” Eddie groaned, turning away from the road again to shout at Jeff. 

And then it happened. 

Jeff’s shit-eating grin disappeared, his eyes growing to the size of dinner plates as he shouted a wordless warning cry and Eddie had less than a second to turn back to the road, slamming his foot on the brake and throwing his arm out to protect Jeff from the inevitable crash. 

There was something on the road in front of them. The snow made it impossible to see beyond the shape, but, whatever it was, it was massive. Huge, and hulking, with a dark shadow that sent a chill down Eddie’s spine, and he was sure his van wouldn’t survive the impact. 

But no impact came. 

His tires skidded, the van turned half a quarter, but no collision, no smashing glass, no pain. Just twin panting from him and Jeff, and an empty road all around them. 

“What was that?” Jeff whispered when he was able to form words again. 

“A deer, I guess,” Eddie murmured back, not really feeling all that sure of his answer. He had never seen a deer like that, but he also hadn’t really seen anything. His wild imagination wanted to run with it, but there was no point. Whatever it was, it was gone, and that’s what mattered. 

He leaned back against his seat, his heart still racing as he patted Jeff’s chest twice, slightly assured when he could feel Jeff’s heart pounding through his shirt as well.

“Sorry.” 

“Shouldn’t’ve distracted you,” Jeff mumbled, lacing his fingers together to hide how badly they were shaking. 

“Hey, not your fault,” Eddie said, knowing how Jeff’s anxiety tended to latch to any blame it could when it got tripped like this. Eddie tested the van, carefully pulling back onto the right side of the road. They stayed quiet as Eddie turned them towards Jeff’s house, driving at a turtle’s pace with both hands on the wheel. 

“I want to help him,” Eddie offered into the silence, eyes firm on the road. “If I can.”

When Jeff didn’t immediately respond, Eddie thought that was the end of the conversation, but as they approached Jeff’s neighborhood, the boy next to him spoke up again. 

“Steve needs the help. Something’s really wrong with him, Eds.”

“You’re turning over to Gareth’s side?” Eddie joked, the words thin and frail and instantly disappearing the second he put them in the air. 

“No,” Jeff replied, no veil of humor over his words. “There’s something wrong with him like there’s something wrong with me.” 

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” Eddie said on instinct, hating the bitter scoff Jeff gave. He pulled up to a stop sign and put the van all the way in park, turning in his seat and giving Jeff his full attention 

“Look at me.” Eddie ordered, waiting until Jeff’s dark eyes met his own in the dim light of the streetlamp before speaking again. 

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Jeff. Nothing.” He said, making sure that there was zero wiggle room in his voice. 

Because there wasn’t, and Eddie hated that his best friend thought there was. There was something wrong with Hawkins, with the country they lived in, with the world. There was something wrong with a species that somehow made color a defining factor in a person’s worth, but there was not, and never would be, anything wrong with who Jeff was.

“Fine, then something wrong happened to both of us,” Jeff amended, a ghost of a smile crossing his face at Eddie’s insistence. “Either way, just be careful with him,” 

“Aren’t you supposed to be giving Steve the shovel talk? Not the other way around?” Eddie joked, putting the van back in gear and turning onto Jeff’s street. 

“When you get him, I’ll give him the talk,” Jeff promised, crossing his heart as he did. 

When, not if. Just one word instead of the other, but a flush of warmth flooded Eddie from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. There wasn’t a chance in hell that Jeff was right to use the word ‘when’, because Eddie’s chances were not even ‘if’, but he loved the positivity. 

“Have a good night, man,” Jeff said as they pulled into his driveway, holding out a hand for a quick shake as he unbuckled his seatbelt.  

“Hey,” Eddie called, grabbing the edge of Jeff’s coat as he stepped out of the van. “Us freaks stick together. Always.”

It was a little reminder, just a hint of a conversation they had over a year ago, but judging by the way Jeff’s eyes softened and his shoulders lowered, he knew exactly what Eddie was reminding him of. 

“Always,” Jeff echoed, squeezing Eddie’s wrist once before he hurried towards his darkened house and slipped inside. Eddie waited till the porch light turned off before sighing heavily, resting his head against the steering wheel for a moment before reversing again. 

Back to the lion’s den. 

The house was dark as Eddie quietly let himself back in, but the glow of the pool and the embers of the fire crackling in the fireplace gave just enough light to see the aftermath of the party. It wasn’t half as bad as some of the messes Eddie had seen from Steve’s previous parties, but it was still pretty messy. There would be a lot of cleanup coming tomorrow, and Eddie’s heart ached when he thought about Steve spending Christmas Eve alone cleaning up his house. 

Damn this boy. Eddie didn’t even celebrate Christmas, and here he was worrying over Steve about being alone for it. 

Maybe Wayne wouldn’t mind having one more person over for dinner. Usually it was just the two of them, but Wayne loved his strays almost as much as Eddie did, and Steve was an easy guy to care about. 

Eddie would ask him tomorrow morning. Call before anyone woke up and see what Wayne said. Then he would offer to help clean and ask Steve when it was just the two of them. After all, no one should be alone on the holidays. 

Eddie was so lost in his thoughts, that he almost missed the sound of an angel singing somewhere up above. 

Are you lonesome tonight?

Do you miss me tonight?

Are you sorry we drifted apart?

But no, there was no missing that voice. Eddie was a connoisseur of music, but he already knew that almost any other song was ruined for him. He was the cat caught by the canary instead of the other way around, lost in the sound of a voice he hadn’t heard in years. It was deeper now, fuller, grown almost into a man from the boy he had been the last time Eddie heard him sing.  

Does your memory stray to a bright summer day

When I kissed you and called you sweetheart?

He climbed the stairs slowly, drawn like a moth to a flame, knowing it would burn, but needing to be close anyway. 

Do the chairs in your parlor seem empty and bare?

Do you gaze at your doorstep and picture me there?

Outside the room now, Eddie could see it all while still staying hidden. Steve was sitting on the floor, his head leaned back against the bed that was filled to the bursting with his sleeping children. 

His entire self was on display for Eddie, not just his body, but his soul and his mind, a gift being given without knowing, and Eddie was too selfish not to take it. 

Is your heart filled with pain?

Shall I come back again?

This was the boy Gareth couldn’t see, but the one Eddie couldn’t stop looking for. A boy who knew their first memory together. Without a doubt. Who had never forgotten, no matter how much Eddie tried to convince himself he had. 

There was no other reason to pick this song. 

Tell me dear, are you lonesome tonight?

And without permission Eddie was thrust into a memory.

Despite it only being his sophomore year, Eddie was more than used to getting detention. In the two years since he had moved to Hawkins, Eddie had earned his ‘problem child’ status at least twice over. This particular afternoon, he was stuck sitting at a graffitied desk in the detention room because he dared to argue when his teacher told him that it was valid to not believe in evolution when it went against your religious beliefs. 

Evolution. The base of all humanity. 

She was wrong, but she was the one with all the power, so Eddie was the one in trouble. 

Still it could’ve been worse. Wayne had given him the van for his fifteenth birthday, so he wasn’t stuck waiting on the steps for a ride home after missing the bus. It wasn’t technically legal, but Hopper tended to look the other way as long as Eddie continued to give him discounts on ‘merchandise’. 

All Eddie had to do was wait out the clock. Mr. Whiter had already fallen asleep at the desk up front and at six, Eddie would be free. Maybe he could even stop at Benny’s. The man always gave him extra fries to bring home to Wayne, and Eddie was making good money now that Rick was in the slammer. He was the last dealer left in town, so things were looking up. 

Well things would be looking up, except the kid next to him refused to stop sniffling. 

Eddie muffled an irritated sigh, sliding his eyes over to take stock of the boy sitting across the way. Clearly a freshman, and obviously his first time in detention. He was looking around the room with wide-eyed horror, slightly terrified of every single thing he saw, and obviously trying to brush tears away from his bruised cheek and busted lip. 

Normally, Eddie would just tell him to shut up. That detention was barely anything to have to deal with in the grand scheme of things, but he had seen the fight that landed the kid in detention, and it had been bad enough to warrant some misery. 

One second he and another boy (obviously a friend given how upset the kid was) were laughing by his locker, and the next second they were exchanging blows. It had been bad, taking three teachers to separate them, and somehow this kid had gotten in trouble for the whole thing!

But Eddie had seen the start, and it was the other twerp that had thrown the first punch. Yet somehow, he was already on the bus home and this schmuck was stuck in detention with the Freak of Hawkins High

The unjustness gnawed at Eddie’s soul, and the longer the kid sat there doing nothing but brush at his already dry cheeks, the harder it was to ignore him. 

Fuck it. There were worse ways to spend an afternoon. 

Eddie grabbed his notebook, slamming it open to a fresh page and dragging his favorite purple pen across the paper, taking a cursory glance at Mr. Whiter’s snoring form before sliding his chair over to the other boy. 

“Hi!” Eddie said, throwing a big smile in the kids direction and hoping that would grease the wheels a little. Eddie knew how intimidating he could look to the rest of the world, and he liked it that way, but it sometimes made it hard to make friends. 

Sure enough, the kid startled the second Eddie spoke, looking at him the way a deer looks at the hunter right before they hear the death shot. He didn’t seem like the type to just outright tell Eddie to fuck off, but he did look massively uncomfortable with Eddie invading his space.  

Oh well, what was the worst that could happen?

“Wanna kill some time?” Eddie offered, holding up his notebook before placing it down on the desk in front of them. A tic tac toe board sat in the middle of the page, and a scorecard was up in the top corner with the word ‘Eddie' on one side and the words ‘Random Kid 'on the other. 

A barely there smile glanced across the kids face as he looked down at the page, and then those big brown eyes were on him. Eddie waited patiently, forcing his body to stay still which was actually a pretty herculean task— not that this kid knew. He had the worm on the hook and the line in the water, and now he was just waiting for the curious fish to bite. 

Whatever the kid was looking for, he must’ve found it because that same soft, shy smile was gifted to Eddie as he leaned down, rooting around in his backpack for his own pen. When he found the one he was looking for, he carefully crossed over Eddie’s purple writing, replacing ‘Random Kid’ with just one word instead. 

“Well, Steve, let’s hope your tic-tac-toe powers are better than your fighting skills,” Eddie joked, pleased when instead of getting mad, Steve’s cheeks darkened in a pretty little blush, and he simply ducked his head with a soft protest and an embarrassed smile. 

They played a few rounds in relative silence, the occasional quiet groan or cheer when one or the other managed to clinch a victory. It was nice, a little boring, but far preferable to what they had been doing before. 

And then Steve’s pen died. 

It was a slow death, long and drawn out with some furious scribbling to try and get one last juice for the squeeze. 

“Here, man, just take mine. I’ve got a spare somewhere,” Eddie offered, not even thinking twice as he gave away his favorite pen, even though he never let anyone borrow that pen. Wayne had gotten it for him on a day trip to Indianapolis for his birthday, just a tiny trinket to commemorate the day, and Eddie loved it to death. 

There was no way Steve could have known that, and yet he was looking at the pen like it was a live snake. 

“Why are you being so nice to me?” Steve asked, his eyes narrowing as he looked down at the clearly treasured object in front of him. 

Eddie looked up at the other boy, furrowing his brow. 

“Why not?” Eddie said with a shrug, going back to his notebook with a plain black pen. He was scratching out another tic-tac-toe board to add to the dozens that were already on the page, but paused when he saw Steve wasn’t picking up his own pen. 

“People aren’t just nice,” Steve insisted, giving Eddie an unexpectedly guarded look. “They always want something…so what do you want from me?” 

“I want to make this afternoon a little less unbearable, I want to fight the system, and I want to make you feel better.” Eddie offered, quirking his head to the side and picking up his favorite purple pen to offer once more to the other boy, “Isn’t that enough?” 

They stared at each other for a long second, until Steve’s face broke into an incredulous smile and he ducked his head down. 

“You’re really weird,” he said with a soft laugh, taking the pen. It was a lovely sound, like birds singing in the morning, or the first soft strum of a guitar as practice began. 

Eddie needed to hear it again.

From there they were off, talking about everything and anything. Eddie shared about all of the  ridiculous reasons he had gotten detention over the years, and Steve explained that the other punk from the fight was Tommy, apparently his best friend for his entire life. They had lived next to each other since Steve had moved to Hawkins as a kid, and had done every single thing together. The reason Tommy had started the fight was Steve had told him he wasn’t sure he wanted to go to basketball try-outs tomorrow. 

“It’s not that I don’t like it, I just want to try some other stuff too you know?” Steve said, looking up from their game to catch Eddie’s eye, “We’re in high school now, so it’s the time to try something new, isn’t it?” 

“Sure it is!” Eddie agreed eagerly, holding himself back from going on a diatribe about the laundry basket devils that ran the school and instead talking about all of the clubs he was in. He couldn’t really see Steve enjoying Marching Band or Creative Writing, but Drama might be a good fit, or maybe Art. 

“You could even join the new club I’m trying to start if you wanted,” Eddie offered, trying to stay casual but practically vibrating at the thought of having someone else to show Higgins that Hellfire was worthy of a place at the table. 

“A new club?” Steve asked. 

“Yea, it’s gonna be great,” Eddie started, taking a deep breath to start his long rant about the joys of dungeons and dragons, “So it’s called—”

“Alright boys,” a nasally voice droned from the front of the room. “Time to pack it up.”

Both boys jumped at Mr. Whiter’s interruption, and Eddie rolled his eyes, frustrated at being stopped right as he had started to get to the good stuff. The geometry teacher either didn’t notice or didn’t care, too eager to get back to his own home to do whatever geometry teachers did when they weren’t at school. 

If Eddie had to guess, it was probably fucking their wives with compasses while reciting geometric formulas as foreplay. That seemed right. 

“And don’t let me catch you in here again, Mr. Harrington. I would hope your parents had taught you better,” Mr. Whiter said as they trudged past him. His blank potato looking face was only showing the barest hints of disappointment, but that was still enough to make Steve cringe away.

“Yes sir,” he whispered, all joy from the last hour they had spent together vanishing in an instant.

“What? No warning for me Mr. Whiter?” Eddie inquired, batting his eyes and trying to take the attention away from Steve. 

“I don’t particularly like wasting my breath on hopeless cases, Mr. Munson,” Whiter droned, half raising one brow, as if shocked that Eddie would even bother to ask for an admonishment. “Try to get your homework done tonight, will you? I’d hate to add another zero to my gradebook,”

Hot shame rushed down Eddie’s spine, replaced quickly by a lightning fury that made his lips loose and his logic take a quick hike. 

“Well, I don’t particularly like making promises I can’t keep, sorry Tighty-Whiteys!” Eddie declared, grabbing Steve’s hand and dragging him away before they could get in any trouble because of Eddie’s big fat mouth. 

“Jesus H Christ, that guys a dick!” Eddie shouted, both boys laughing breathlessly as they burst through the doors of the school. 

“You gonna do the homework?” Steve said through his giggles. 

“Now? Hell no!” Eddie swore, cackling as he did and jumping up onto the low wall next to the school. “Gotta fight the system however you can, Stevie. Trust me. Listen to your elders.”

“Whatever you say,”  Steve said, continuing to laugh at Eddie’s antics. He idly looked around the parking lot, his mood starting to darken as he looked again, searching the parking lot again, but Eddie wasn’t exactly sure what for. 

Then Steve sighed, plopping down on the curb and wrapping his arms around his knees resting his chin on top of them and rapidly blinking. 

“What’re you doin’?” Eddie asked with concern, shocked at Steve’s sudden turn and hopping down from his spot on the wall. 

“My parents aren’t here,” Steve muttered glumly, staring out at the empty lot instead of looking at Eddie as he sat on the curb next to Steve. “The school called after the fight, and they knew when I was getting out, but my dad’s probably going to make me wait ‘till after dinner or something.”

It wasn’t exactly the most damning thing to say in the world, Eddie could think of a dozen things that his dad had done to him that were worse, but the thought of making his own son wait for hours in the cold and dark still made something in his stomach squirm. He could never imagine Wayne doing anything like that to him.

Steve curled up even tighter around himself, completely unaware of Eddie’s internal struggle. 

“God, I bet they’re so pissed.” Steve whispered into his knees. “And now my dad’s going to have to come get me, and he’s going to be even madder about that—”

“Why don’t I give you a ride home?” Eddie offered in an instant, shocking even himself with the boldness of the offer. He had just met the kid only an hour ago, but Steve’s genuine nature touched something in him, and there was a magnetic pull to want to help him that Eddie couldn’t quite explain just yet. “Then at least they won’t be mad at you about needing a ride, right?”

It would make more sense for Steve to say no, to try and play it off, but instead he was giving Eddie a watery smile and a look of gratitude as he nodded, starting to stand. 

Eddie had never really worried about what the van looked like, but as they walked towards where it was, Eddie jogged ahead, trying to throw the multitudes of wrappers and junk into the back where Steve wouldn’t see. Luckily for him, the younger boy seemed enraptured by the simple fact that Eddie had a car at all. 

“I want something cool like a Beemer or a truck, but my mom doesn’t want me to get a car ‘till I’m 18,” Steve said idly, pausing and furrowing his brow as he did, “She’s really weird about me driving for some reason.” 

Hopefully, she wouldn’t feel too weird about a random guy giving her kid a ride home in a kidnapper van. 

“Pick a tape for us to listen to,” Eddie offered as he climbed into the driver's seat, fighting with his seatbelt as Steve perused his choices. Unfortunately, Steve quickly skipped over all of the metal that Eddie had at the front of the pack, but soon familiar notes began to sing, and Eddie’s shoulders relaxed as he recognized the song. 

“Ahhhh, The King. A good choice,” Eddie commented as Elvis’s voice began to croon out into the air between them. 

“Who could hate this song?” Steve asked rhetorically, a wry grin on his face as the tune began to take shape.

“I always loved that nickname,” Steve said off handedly, staring out the window at the rows of corn, “King.” 

“You should steal it then,” Eddie said automatically. Sure, Steve was a kid right now, but Eddie could see it in his eyes. A few years, a couple more inches, and that kid would have the world eating out of his palm. That sweet nature, that funny little humor, ‘King’ wasn’t too hard to imagine when it came to Steve. 

“Maybe,” Steve replied, drawing out the word with a tone that showed that he wasn’t sure about that. He gave Eddie a few more directions, and they got closer and closer to their time being done together. A strange desperation started to make Eddie’s heart race, like he could feel the two of them pulling back into their roles, backing away from whatever they had this afternoon. 

“It’s got a good ring to it. King Steve,” Eddie pushed, pausing and making the turn into Loch Nora before he put his heart on the line. 

“Why don’t you blow off basketball try-outs tomorrow? Come to my club I’m starting instead. You can meet my friends.”

It was a chance, a choice. Steve could make the right one, and be one of them, or he could get sucked into Hawkins and all of it’s hell hole small town bullshit. Eddie was giving him an out. 

“That sounds really fun,” Steve said in a small voice, a secret smile shared between them before it was ruined by a shout from the house in front of them. 

“Steven!”

It was a woman’s voice, and Steve’s entire body stiffened. No more smiles, no more relaxing, Steve was a rod of pure steel, with a blank unaffected face. A man and a woman, Steve’s mother and father presumably, were standing on the porch together, twin faces of disappointed gravity that stole all of the air out of the van. 

“Well, wish me luck,” Steve laughed without humor, his fingers worrying over the straps of his backpack as he started to unbuckle his seatbelt. 

“See you tomorrow?” Eddie asked, already knowing in his stomach that he wouldn’t. 

“Tomorrow,” Steve said, the word so thin and frail now. 

And he was gone. Out of the car, and most definitely out of Eddie’s life. But if he was losing this like he seemed to lose everything, Eddie wanted to at least say a proper goodbye. 

“See you later Alligator!” Eddie shouted through the window. Steve turned back, haloed by the setting sun, looking far too angelic for a gangly fourteen year old. 

“In a while Crocodile,” Steve called back with a slight laugh, just a shadow of his former self, turning and rushing to his waiting parents who gave Eddie one last glare before slamming the door shut. 

Eddie waited a second, staring at the locked door and listening to the song on the radio, wishing that the burning in his eyes would just disappear the way Steve had. 

Do the chairs in your parlor seem empty and care?

Do you gaze at your doorstep and picture me there?

Is your heart filled with pain

Shall I come back again?

Tell me dear, are you lonesome tonight?

Eddie opened his eyes again, back in the present, to find Steve already watching him. 

In another world, things worked out differently, but not in this one. 

In reality, Steve didn’t come to Hellfire the next day. Tommy was at his locker bright and early, there to laugh the whole thing off and drag Steve to try-outs come hell or high water. Eddie had seen the whole thing, and he had known then and there Steve wasn’t one of them. Steve’s cheek was still bruised, but there were finger shapes on his wrist that definitely hadn’t been there the day before during detention. He had glanced at Eddie, but quickly glanced away, agreeing loudly that try-outs were going to be awesome. 

When Steve had caught his eye that day, when he had tried to say he was sorry without words, Eddie hadn’t been in a place to listen. He had a thousand chips of his own weighing on his shoulders, and an inability to see anything but his own opinion as right. 

There was no way to be two things at once, not back then. 

But that bruised beat up kid was in front of him again, big hazel eyes begging for forgiveness again. And this time, Eddie finally felt ready to give it to him. 

“Hi Alligator,” Eddie whispered, the words barely able to get out past the lump in his throat. A small smile graced Steve’s lips as his eyes began to shine in the dark. 

“It’s been a while, Crocodile,” Steve whispered back. 

Tag List: @paopaupaus @zerokrox-blog @surferboyzaza @whatever-is-a-good-name@minjintea @addelyin @5ammi90 @hagbaby420 @shinekocreator @bornonthesavage @starxlark @electrick-marionnett @resident-gay-bitch @ash-a-confused-enby @classicdinosaurdeathpose @valon-whomsttf @rotten-lil-goblin @thereindeerlady @love-ya-kash @kerlypride @sparkle-fiend @thefreakandthehair @flowercrowngods @milf-harrington @sadcanadianwinter @gothbat99 @hotcocoaharrington @henderdads @lightwoodbanethings @colorful565 @h0n3y-dw @craterbbox @sourw0lfs @lesliiieeeee @bidisastersworld @tinynebula @ravnlinn @bonescaro @mexmatch @cottagecoredreams @joruni @hellykelly @maegan1116 @farewell-wanderlvst @desertfern @due-to-the-fact-that-im-a-slut @anythingforourmoonyedits @eerielake @fandemonium-takes-its-toll @sidekick-hero

#Steve joins hellfire au #Steve harrington #Eddie munson #steddie #steddie au #steddie ficlet #st #stranger things #stranger things 2 #stranger things au #post stancy breakup #post s2 #Steve and eddie #st au #stranger things 2 au #steve harrington #Writing(with a capital W) #Jeff stranger things #freak stranger things #Steve has ptsd #Flash back #Flashhhhh backkkkkkk #hehehe

[caelivir]

the little things | rayne ames

— synopsis. rayne loves through actions, but sometimes he loves through words

— pairing. rayne ames x gn!reader

— genre. fluff

— word count. 882

— notes. i love rayne so much

Rayne’s adoration for you spans across the neverending distance of space. It’s a feeling that consumes him whole, but he can never convey that through words. You’ve always known that, and it has never bothered you in the slightest. You always told him that he didn’t have to say it if he wasn’t ready. And that only made him love you more.

That’s why Rayne expresses his love in the way he knows best. Actions. He’s always been a firm believer in the importance of actions. They demonstrate his love when words aren’t able to.

Everyday you come home to a plate of freshly cut fruit sitting for you on the table. There’s always a note sitting directly next to it. Rayne doodles a silly bunny onto the paper because he knows it makes you smile. (Little does he know that you keep them in a box hidden deep in your closet).

Rayne caresses your hands whenever you’re both out with friends. He mindlessly traces patterns on them, and his touch is enough to send you floating above the clouds. He compares your hand size with him just so that he can interlock his fingers with yours, holding it for as long as he can before you can complain about them being sweaty.

He’ll be the first to notice your unlaced shoes and will always be the first to tie them back up for you despite how embarrassing it is. Rayne always watches over you when you’re distracted, moving you away from cracks in the road and protecting you from sharp corners by covering them with his own hand.

Your boyfriend will never fail to pay for your meals despite your multiple protests. He holds your bags whenever you go shopping and will deny you any right to assist him. Rayne gives you his whole attention whenever you’re sharing moments that occurred throughout your day.

People ask if your relationship with Rayne is okay, and it sends a pang through your heart. Seeing your boyfriend misjudged based on his intimidating appearance upsets you, and Rayne will always assure you that it doesn’t bother him in the slightest.

“Well,” He would say, gently tangling his hands with yours. “Do you feel loved by me?”

“Yeah, but-”

“Then that’s all that matters. Everyone else can fuck off.” He offers you a rare grin before taking your cheeks into his hands, pressing a delicate kiss onto your forehead.

And that in itself is all it takes for all your worries to fade away. Other people don’t see the love that Rayne offers to the people he cares fondly about, but that does not mean it doesn’t exist.

Rayne Ames loves you so much that he’s willing to hold you in his arms for hours just as he’s doing now. It’s one of those days when he’s finally free from responsibilities. No meetings, no business trips, no other pending work. He gets to stay home with you and breathe in the scent of lavender that lulls him to sleep. Together, you drift in and out of naps as his arms lay soundly around your waist. It’s a peace he wishes to live in forever.

You face him. A song that Rayne doesn’t know the name of hums from your mouth. With a touch so light it sends chills down his spine, your fingers brush strands of hair away from his eyes. He leans into your touch, longing for it like a necessity. You smile at him, and Rayne believes it’s the most ethereal thing in the world. The stars swirl in your eyes. He finds himself endlessly lost in them.

Rayne loves you. It’s the most undeniable fact of his life, and it’s about time he makes it a stated reality outside of his head. He inhales softly, the words forming on his tongue, and he lets them go before his brain can tell him otherwise.

“I love you.”

He feels your hand freeze, eyes slightly widening in shock. “What?” You whisper, unsure if you heard him correctly.

“I love you,” Rayne repeats, familiarizing himself with the way the words sound out of his mouth, growing comfortable with how they sound. “I love you so much that it is all I think about. I love everything about you, from your perfections to imperfections. You are the best thing the world has to offer, and I love you.”

Your face lights up with brightness to rival the brightest suns. “Say it again.”

Rayne can’t do anything else but comply because he’d do anything to see you this euphoric. “I love you.”

You waste not a single second crashing your lips onto Rayne, molding into each other like you have done so many times in the past. His hand slides from up your waist and onto the familiar softness of your cheek. He kisses you with so much adoration that it makes you dizzy. Between every touch of your lips, he whispers it, repeating the three words like he could never get tired of them. And when you finally pull away, Rayne pulls you in impossibly closer, his heart full of thoughts of you.

Rayne Ames is a firm believer of actions over words, but sometimes, three words are more powerful than all the actions in the world.

#anime #manga #mashle #mashle magic and muscles #rayne ames #rayne x reader #rayne ames x reader #from kor ; ♆

[halcified]

gawd . gonna pop some tags here and expand on them but teru really is like... peak slow-burn horror as a character. hes, like, seven tragedies waltzing around in a colourful trench-coat. i like to think that the people around him put together the pieces eventually because, well, hes not exactly subtle, and even when we meet him there is this blaring feeling that something is wrong. aside from the obvious violence he commits, of course, but it just keeps fucking Building

even after his fight with mob, teru as a character is so focused on his capabilities and independence that even when he realizes hes a normal person he still cant believe hes a normal KID. he has to believe hes more mature or capable in Some Way because otherwise theres no way to rationalize what has been done to him-- which is why i find his pre-mob self so fascinating because he is just. Pure hurt. pure attention seeking in a way that overcompensates for what his parents never gave him. those issues never really get Dealt with, either. they just get compartmentalized differently.

it's so nonchalant, too. teru shares his living situation with two people-- mob, who he, at this point, believes is an unequivocally Good Person who wouldnt share more than he has without being prompted, and dimple who... is a ghost. he could exorcise him easily, but more than that, dimple can only communicate with psychics or those who can see him, which means esper kids (aka mob and ritsu, because those are the only esper kids teru's ever met) and esper adults. and to teru, if theyre an esper adult, that means theyre claw, which means they already know.

its hard to remember in the context of the whole show, but teru didnt even know reigen existed at this point-- regardless of assumed psychic status or not. teru had no reason to believe that any adult, especially not an esper adult, would care. it can be easy to read this as teru being cornered because he needed to bring mob somewhere safe, too, but considering how calculating of a character teru IS, its hard to believe he wouldnt at least be convincing himself of his control over the situation

teru views himself as a commoner who lives in uncommon circumstances and thinks its super normal and just happens to never to tell any adults about it-- except that hes stupidly smart and, for all his absurdity, has a pretty decent concept of, like, strategy, and how not to get fucked over by adults. this kid ( again, stupidly smart, figured out his ENTIRE CITY was being brainwashed before anyone else ) focuses so hard on Not thinking about how fucked his situation is that he convinces other people not to think about it, either.

and the thing is that we keep SEEING how adaptable and strategic he is. need a pyrokinetic? air whips? name the technique and teru is LEARNING it. it doesnt take a genius to note that your life is severely different to other peoples. no WONDER he grows up thinking the world revolves around him, he needs something to make it all make sense, and when he finally views himself as a commoner he cant help but urge everyone to look away from the curtains

#coughs. anyway #dont look at me guys im emotional #teruki hanazawa #mp100 #mob psycho 100 #mp100 meta #text

[mikaela-the-slut-expert]

The God of Song's

Second Ascension

Xie Lian x M!Reader x Hua Cheng

Alright listen y'all. I'm adding a previous part to my first glance series. BECAUSE I really want my timeline to follow the novel's timeline and most of the lines follow the novel as well. I want the story to focus on my OC so obviously it'll be his pov. Be patient with me y'all 😭

The whole point of the part is just to give Y/n some depth? To explain partially my OC's background and abilities. Like I had to put some foundation for the ready bro.

Dúshé means poison laced tongue

Mûguô means bitch or whore

Míngqín means song bird

if you see the name Mei Li, just read it as Y/n I tried replacing them all but I'm blind

_____________________________________________

Y/n is a rarity. An unnatural beauty with white hair. A being who uses his siren like vocals and imitation against others. A majority of heaven officials are wary of him and are diligent on keeping their distance. The reason being, he dips between both realms.

Y/n is a ghost, who ascended and became a god. That's why most people don't like him. He's strange and shouldn't possibly exist. A ghost who became a god? That's an anomaly. What could be worse than that? An anomaly that has power.

He's a god of the upper court and yet he doesn't have his own palace. He rejected it choosing to make his own domain in the mortal realm. Just like a ghost would. His reason being? It's closer to Xie Lian. Y/n having so much power as a god and a ghost, with the ability to wipe out a nation leaves the other officials anxious. They'd prefer if he was banished from the Heavens. Which he was. Even then 6,000 temples stayed up in his favor.

They have many names for him: Y/n, God of Song, dúshé, general, and even the name mûguô was passed around for a while. Only Xie Lian uses the nickname, míngqín.

He used to be a general for XianLe and an imperial guard for Xie Lian. They grew up together, along with Feng Xin and eventually Mu Qing. But everyone knows the stories. Mu Qing stopped following Xie Lian after his banishment and never spoke a good word of him again.

Feng Xin and Y/n however stayed loyal. They grew up together, and were banished together. And yet Feng Xin and Y/n grew apart. Feng Xin and Xie Lian grew apart. Leaving y/n with Xie Lian alone. A banished ghost and a banished prince.

So their wishes came true, but not forever. When the bell in the Heavens starts to toll and shake everyone is expecting to see a newcomer. They must be powerful with how hard the bell rings, surely?

The official's hopes were diminished when they saw the familiar silhouette of Y/n and Xie Lian. He ascended a second time!? And Xie Lian he...he...he fucking ascended a third time?!

Y/n looks much different his face hides behind a veil now. Only his striking blue eyes can be seen. He stands by Xie Lian's side as the other officials whisper. None of them notice the bell fall... Or as someone's golden palace gets ruined.

**********************************************************

Y/n stands next to Xie Lian while Ling Wen talks about his highness getting first place, for once. Of course for nothing good. Something about banishment but at least Xie Lian got 100 merits for it.

Y/n gets lost in thought and starts paying attention to his two birds, Wèizhī. It's supposed to be one, conjoined name but the twin birds liked the name for both of them. Yes Y/n has birds. While other gods have families as swords, or ghosts have butterflies. Y/n has his birds. They're Oriental Magpies and they represent Y/n perfectly. Both of them imitate others, and both of them sing.

Y/n's attention is brought back when Ling Wen points at a 'bell'. He looks over to the civil god with an arched brow. "Ling Wen I know you're tired but there's no bell up there", he says with a shrug

"There was a bell there. When general Li and his highness ascended you both caused quite the turmoil. Causing the bell to fall on a passing by heavenly official" she explains.

She points in another direction, "Do you see that golden palace?" Xie Lian smiles, "Ah yes I can."

"It was put up to replace an official's golden palace that was damaged from your ascension" and Xie Lian's smile falls into a nervous one.

"So we've offended many officials from the moment we arrived?" Xie Lian confirms

"If you can make amends maybe not"Ling Wen

Y/n places a hand on his hip and cocks it to the side, "How do we make amends then?"

"Easy, just pay eight million eight hundred eight thousand merits" Ling Wen adds, "Of course I know you both don't have a tenth of that amount."

Y/n gawks behind his veil. He groans and Xie Lian grins. ,"Please allow us to think about what we should do" he heaves a long sigh.

The two of them walk to the side and Mei Li watches Xie Lian crouch down in distraught. " A-Lian I can pay for it, half of it was my fault after all" you frown patting his head.

"Ah no that's not necessary, I'll find a way. So please don't waste your merits on me, míngqín." Míngqín, a nickname Xie Lian made for you long ago. You love it. Yes you are a songbird, and you're his songbird.

Y/n glances away, he'll pay for it when he gets the chance. Right now he'll stay by Xie Lian's side. "Oh we should probably find the array for the upper court. I don't have the password anymore." Xie Lian brings his fingers to his temple and Y/n does the same.

They search through multiple arrays, some even bet on how long they'll stay this time. When they finally find it someone whispers, "So his highness and his general are back?"

Xie Lian brightens when they finally find the array he's looking for, "Yes I'm back!" Y/n cocks his hip and doesn't answer.

The heavenly official chuckles languidly, "his highness and general /n caused a tremendous force this time, yes?"

Xie Lian rubs the back of his neck, "Ah well it wasn't so bad." Y/n crosses his arms.

Another official cuts in, "It wasn't so bad for his highness, but my luck isn't as good" While Xie Lian looks very sorry, Y/n doesn't.

It seems Xie Lian doesn't know who they're talking to but Y/n knows it's Mu Qing. He cocks his hip and Xie Lian thinks to himself, that one day Y/n might pop his hip out if he keeps up. "This one heard that General Xuan Zhen flicked it and the bell split in half though? Surely it didn't cause the great general much pain?" Y/n hums in fake sympathy and checks his nails.

They're interrupted by another official. Y/n sighs at this.

"Who the fuck knocked down my palace?! SHOW YOURSELF!" Y/n covers his ears as he recognizes Feng Xin.

Feng Xin and Mu Qing start bickering about something, Y/n looks over to Xie Lian. To see if he's doing okay with the familiar faces.

Xie Lian laughs nervously, "it was my fault I apologize, I didn't mean for it to get out of hand"

Mu Qing replies sarcastically, "Oh what a coincidence."

This upsets Y/n, he crosses his arms and sets a glare on Mu Qing. "Are you implying we did it on purpose as an act of revenge? General Xuan Zhen I thought you knew by now the world simply does not revolve around you. I think you want to be a victim." He spits. He refuses to sit here while Mu Qing slanders Xie Lian's name. Off to the side he can other people whisper dúshé.

Mu Qing scoffs, but Xie Lian cuts in, "I will try my best to compensate you, I apologize"

Y/n glares at Mu Qing's spot. The man glares back but he falls silent and invisible.

Xie Lian and Y/n leave the array afterwards.

Y/n frowns and plays with a piece of his long hair. "This one is sorry A-Lian, I just couldn't stay quiet"

Xie Lian waves a hand and smiles, "It's alright no need to apologize."

Ling Wen has invited Xie Lian and Y/n to the great hall so that's where they go. Y/n watches over Xie Lian's shoulder reading the scroll she gave them. Apparently they can earn merits if they solve this "ghost groom" issue.

Y/n hums, "We can do it A-Lian we've experienced worse"

Xie Lian nods, but looks back at Y/n nervously. "Yes but I also can't use any spiritual devices", "Then maybe it's better to get the help of some deputy generals?" Ling Wen adds.

"That's why I'm here, I'll gladly do the work for you-"

"But I don't want you to do all the work for me, I'll feel bad, so for my sake let's get help from some middle officials?" Xie Lian smiles nervously, of course he doesn't want to push Y/n. He does so much for Xie Lian already.

Y/n cocks his hip, and glances to the side "I suppose, but who will really come help?"

Xie Lian laughs, "Ah you're right. Ling Wen I'm afraid no one will willingly come to my aid"

She waves a hand though, "I'll get you some help don't worry". Then she goes into the array, and asks who could send two martial officials to help the emperor.

It probably would have worked too, if Mu Qing hadn't ruined it, "I heard the emperor isn't in the north at the moment. This help must be for his highness right?"

Ling Wen sighs, "You're always in the array these days General Xuan Zhen, congratulations you seem to have plenty of time."

"My hand is wounded, I'm currently nursing the injury." Mu Qing replies coyly

"Oh? You poor thing I didn't know it took a bell to take you out General" Y/n adds smugly.

They all leave the array once it's obvious no one is coming to help.

"It's alright A-Lian I don't mind doing it" Y/n hums softly running his hand over Xie Lian's arm.

"Yes, we're used to being alone so we'll leave it as is" he sighs.

"May heaven Officials give their blessings" Ling Wen says.

"No paths are bound!" Xie Lian replies and leaves in a dashing manner. Y/n follows him with a sigh. He has to make sure Xie Lian doesn't fall out of heaven.

__________________________________________________

Okay guys. So if y'all have read this and the first glance series please tell me if you like it 😭🙏.

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#hualian #hualian x reader #tgcf headcanon #hua cheng x reader #tgcf #tgcf x male reader #tgcf xie lian #xie lian x reader #xie lian #tgcf hualian #tgcf hua cheng #hua cheng #mu qing

[judithhhh]

spanish (one-shot)

jude x gf! reader

summary : in which jude has a girlfriend who can't speak spanish at all, just like him

When Jude told you about his transfer to Real Madrid, you were totally thrilled at the thought of moving to Spain with him. The two of you looked for a nice home to install in and were fully ready to start this new chapter of your lives together. There was one thing that you forgot to think about though ; you and Jude were absolute shit at spanish. No matter how hard you tried to get used to the new language, no progress was made. This meant that the first few months in Madrid were desastrous apart from Jude's incredible debut at the club. Something simple as doing groceries or driving to a new place became a whole challenge for the both of you. Adding to that, there was the fact that the media and his fans found the fact that you were the worse spanish speakers La Liga had seen in a while absolutely hilarious. You couldn't even count how many clips of you two trying to talk with interviewers or with fans ended up on twitter.

Jude had gotten most of the backlash though. Not only his fans but also his teammates loved to make fun of him for his incompetence in the language. You, a much more private person, had not been seen on social media or out in public as much, meaning that the few clips of your disastrous attempts of speaking spanish were with Jude and not alone. You often made fun of Jude, saying that he was the most lost one, using the excuses that you had taken a few spanish classes back in secondary school so you were obviously better than him. This feeling that you could speak better quickly went away though, when an extremely amusing video of you, and only you, found its way on twitter and tiktok.

The video taking place at the Golden Boy awards, you were dressed in a beautiful black dress and was smiling widely at the camera. The interviewer first asked you questions in english about your opinion on Jude's accomplishments and more about the teams you liked ect... The interview took another turn when someone else came and started asking you questions in the unfamiliar language. Basing yourself on some classes that you took a good five years ago, you responded in the same language and, obviously, it was a shit show. Your sentences didn't add up, you used words in english or french and pretended like they were correct by saying them in a spanish accent, or you just said words, that everyone was pretty sure, never existed. At one moment, the camera panned to the spanish interviewer that looked like he was using every inches of his brain to not laugh in your face. That, of course, made Jude's fans laugh even harder.

You were not aware of this video, and of how shit your spanish was, until Jude came home, one day, yelling your name. You ran downstairs, happy to see him after his training but was greeted by the sight of your boyfriend in tears in front of his phone. You took a step closer to him and your worries went away when you realize he was actually crying laughing.

"What's so funny Jude?"

The boy tried to compose himself but could barely form a sentence in between his fits of laughter.

"You haven't seen the video?"

"What video..?"

He turned his phone around, showing you the interview. Mortified, you couldn't talk or move and just stood there flustered.

"Ain't no way... It can't be that bad babe what the fuck."

"Oh yeahhhh, it's that bad" The boy said looking everything but sorry for you. The fucker was enjoying this.

"You regret making fun of me now huh?"

"I don't regret shit Jude, leave me alone"

"Aww come onnn, don't be mad now"

You ignored him, walking up the stairs and sitting down on your shared bed. Jude was quick to follow you sitting against the headboard before putting you on his lap, facing him. His hands around your waist, he squeezed it as he began talking.

"You know it wasn't that horrible. You're English, people understand that you don't know spanish that well..."

"It doesn't matter baby. Did you see that oh my god, I was like a toddler was trying to speak."

"Well, maybe a little bit"

You groaned, burying your head in his shoulder as the boy started laughing histerically again. The two of you stayed there for a while until Jude composed himself. Taking a deep breath, he looked at you in the eyes before smiling softly.

"You know I love you right?"

"Yeah I know, I love you too"

"Even though you're shit at spanish"

"SHUT UP!"

#football #football imagine #jude bellingham #jude bellingham imagine #jude x reader #football x reader #jude bellingham x reader #hey jude :)