#i have no idea what the inside of a proper bar is supposed to look like and did not look it up

[tachyon-omlette]

Mac Receives an Unusual Customer

(weird(?) gift for @thewiglesswonder because I'd been wondering about this scenario; cut because it's 6 images total which my brain classifies as "too long")

#transformers #maccadam #transformers oc #gift art #i would imagine that entrance has been smashed apart by various larger bots in the past. hence the sign #i have no idea what the inside of a proper bar is supposed to look like and did not look it up #how presumptuous is it to draw your oc (or part of him) in gift art for someone else? #hopefully not too presumptuous #wig (if i may call you wig) whenever you get this know that i love mac a lot #she embodies a lot of oc concepts i had as a kid and never embraced because i thought they were 'too op to be legit' #thank you for proving me wrong. mac is awesome /gen #tachyon-art

[forever-rogue]

I saw this one post on Twitter of how this girl’s bf pre-padded her underwear for her when she was in the shower and I thought it would be a cute idea if you wrote something like this for Eddie?

AN | No, but this is so sweet! Eddie would totally be that boyfriend. 💕

Warnings | Language, Reader has period

Pairing | Eddie x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 2.6k

Masterlist | Main, Eddie

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You groaned as you flopped onto your bed, tired and hungry, and feeling like your insides were eating themselves. You laid there for a moment before, wondering if you could kick off your pants and just continue lying there. It was a feeble attempt and didn’t get you very far and it just made things even more uncomfortable. 

“Fuck,” with a heavy sigh, you rolled onto your back and stared at your ceiling, breathing in and out slowly in order to attempt to quell your internal turmoil, “fuck.”

Before you could get up, your phone buzzed next to you. When you grabbed it and saw that there was a new text from Eddie, you immediately felt better. And then remembered that you were supposed to spend the night at his place tonight. Now you weren’t so sure that you should. Not that you were weirded out by having your period in front of Eddie, or that Eddie would be grossed out by it, you were genuinely feeling terrible…and mildly worried about Eddie witnessing you having your period.

But you really wanted to see Eddie. It had been a few days since you’d seen him, both of you busy with work and other fun adult things, and you’d been missing him a lot. You were going to see him, you decided, he was worth dealing with a little pain. 

You texted him back and let him know that you’d be over soon, but also warned him that your period had started. Just in case you got there and fell asleep within minutes after eating a bar of chocolate. 

After you managed to peel yourself off the bed, you packed your overnight bag and headed to Eddie’s apartment. If there was anything that could make you feel better it was Eddie and motrin. You’d consumed the one and were only a short drive away from the other.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Eddie opened the door for you before you even managed to knock, a pretty smile on his face and his big brown eyes alive and bright. 

“Hey baby,” he took your bag from you before wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling in you for a sweet kiss, “missed you so much.”

“I’ve missed you too,” his sweet words always still managed to make your face warm up. You wrapped your arms around him and hugged tightly onto him, causing him to laugh softly. He set down your bag before hugging you back just as fiercely, before taking your face in his hands and peppering your face in gentle kisses.

“There’s my girl,” he whispered as finally managed to put a proper smile on your face, “I’m sorry you’re suffering. But I’m glad you’re here so I can hopefully make you feel better.”

“Just seeing you has made me feel better,” you promised, “besides, it’s not like you made me get my period.”

“No…but I can help you get rid of it,” it took you a moment to catch onto what he was saying - until you saw the smirk and raised eyebrow on his face, “for a while anyway.”

“I…Eddie,” you playfully shoved him as the two of you laughed, your face warm at the idea of getting pregnant by him, “first of all - you’re the worst. And second of all, let’s get back to that discussion in a few years.”

He didn’t say anything but he managed to make a small sound in the back of the throat, that sounded almost strained. He was immediately struggling not to let his mind wander too far in that direction just yet, “yeah - yeah, c’mon. Tell me how to make it better. Have you eaten? Are you hydrated? Need a nap?”

“Yes…ish to both of those,” you offered him a sheepish expression as you walked into the kitchen to get yourself some water. He trailed after you with an incredulous look on his face. He definitely wouldn’t have been able to handle it as well as you, “I’ve been working and dying, Eddie. I haven’t had time to worry about anything!”

“Well, how about you let me make it better? I’m going to make dinner and you’re going to take a nice, hot shower,” he started to usher you towards the bathroom, “I’ve heard that can help. So hopefully it does. I got that body wash and shampoo and conditioner that you like too. You’re here enough anyway, figured it’d be nice for you to have some stuff here.”

“You did that for me?” you turned around and looked at him with wide eyes as he slowly nodded.  Your heart warmed; you had been spending more and more time at his place and it was nice to have things moving in that direction. You did want to move in with him soon - everytime you imagined your future it was always with Eddie. You sighed softly, “that’s so sweet, Eddie. Thank you.”

“Nothing to thank me for,” he insisted, “I just want you to be comfortable and feel better.”

“Do you know one thing that would help even more?” you offered him a coy smile which was answered with a soft laugh.

“You want some of my clothes for pajamas?” he asked as you nodded eagerly, “one step ahead of you. I’ve got a fresh towel and clean clothes for you in the towel warmer.”

Before he met you, he’d never have even considered a towel warmer. Hell, he didn’t even know that people actually owned them. It seemed like such a ridiculous luxury, and maybe it was, but he was willing to listen. You’d insisted that he needed one and that they were totally worth it…the next time you were over at his place, he’d bought a towel warmer. 

“You are amazing, Eddie Munson,” you pulled him in for a kiss and let your lips linger against his. His arms wrapped around you without hesitation as he kissed you a few more times, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” his big brown eyes grew soft as he practically turned to putty in your arms, “now go and get comfy and warm and I’ll make dinner.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Eddie had gone in and turned on the shower, turning it to the perfect temper. You’d shaken your head at him, but before he left you to your own devices, he helped you to gently strip off your clothes. It was such a small, intimate thing, but it meant so much to you. Once you were rid of all your clothing, Eddie held your hand as you stepped into the shower.  He gave you a small kiss before heading back to the kitchen to finish dinner. 

When Eddie had said that he’d purchased a few of your things to keep at his place, he wasn’t kidding. Along with the things he used, where all the things you loved and kept at your own apartment were in the shower. He was always doing things like this, things that he thought were so small and insignificant but that meant so much to you. 

You took your sweet time to get clean, relishing the feel of the hot water on your skin before reluctantly stepping out of the shower. Once you stepped out of the shower and opened the towel warmer, you were greeted by the sight of a big, fluffy towel along with a fresh set of Eddie's clothes. They happened to be some of your favorites that you often stole from him. 

But it was the sight on the countertop that caught your eye and piqued your curiosity. It was clean underwear that happened to have a fresh pad stuck to it. You raised an eyebrow but your heart melted at the gesture. Eddie had this planned all along. 

You dried yourself off and slipped on the clean underwear and clothes before slipping out of the bathroom. You heard Eddie in the kitchen, singing softly to himself as he shuffled around. You loved this man. Truly, fully, so much that it made your heart ache. 

He stopped as soon as he heard you, looking up to catch your eye and offer you a small smile. He looked so pretty with his hair piled on top of his in a bun, sporting a pair of gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt. It was ridiculous the effect the simple clothing had on you.

“Hey baby,” he whispered softly, “feeling better?”

“Much,” you confirmed as you went over to him and pressed a kiss to his cheek, “thank you for everything. The underwear…where did you get that idea? I wasn't expecting it, but it was really nice. No one’s ever done anything like that for me.”

“It wasn’t…a big deal,” his cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink as he tried to play it off, “I, umm, I saw some people mention it on twitter and yeah. It was just an idea. You’re dealing with enough right now, so it just seemed like an easy thing to do.”

“Well, I appreciate it very much,” you promised, gently nudging his hip with yours, “I appreciate you very much, Eddie. Thank you.”

He mumbled something in response as he focused his attention on his pan. He wasn’t one to look for praise and you knew that the attention sometimes made him shy. You made sure he knew just how much you loved and cherished him. 

You grabbed some plates and helped him to finish up dinner. He tried to protest but you ignored him; you wanted to help him. You liked working together, you were a team after all.

When he grabbed plates and piled them with food, you were excited to see that he had made your favorites. He had really gone all out just to make you feel better. 

The two of you took your time eating, before moving to the couch and cuddling up next to each other. You were tucked into Eddie’s side with his arm around you, your favorite place to be, with a big, warm blanket thrown over the two of you. Eddie had let you take your pick of what to watch and you’d settled on a true crime documentary. He never understood why you were able to relax to such things, but he never questioned it. He just enjoyed it along with you. 

You made it about halfway through the first episode of the series before you felt yourself nodding off. You tried to fight it but eventually gave in and let yourself fall asleep. Eddie hadn’t been surprised, but glad you were able to relax. He paused the show and made sure you were as comfortable as possible as he let you sleep for a bit. Before it got too late, he’d wake you up to go to bed. 

Eddie pressed a kiss to the top of your head, making sure you were as comfortable as possible. You were still semi-aware, in that almost asleep but still mildly awake state, and you were almost positive that you heard Eddie singing softly under his breath. It was sweet, warm and rich, and you were pulled into the siren’s call of slumber and fell asleep.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed before you were gently woken by Eddie. You blinked a few times to clear away the bleariness and found him smiling at you. He gently brushed some of your hair out of your face, brushing his knuckles tenderly against your cheek.

“I think it’s time for bed, huh pretty girl?” he whispered as you nodded meekly. Getting into bed and wrapped up with him sounded like almost heaven. You slowly climbed up and off the couch, stretching slowly to wake up your tired bones and muscles. Eddie follow up suit before wrapped his arms around your waist and slowly padding along with you to his bedroom, “wanna know a secret?”

“Tell me,” you murmured as he pressed a big kiss to your cheek, causing you to laugh softly.

“I always sleep better with you,” he confessed softly, almost unsure if he should have admitted it to you, “I can’t wait till we can sleep together every night.”

That was enough to make your heart flutter with excitement and nerves. Eddie was definitely part of your future, but it still made you feel good to know that you were part of his too. 

“Me too, Eddie,” you promised and then you remembered your current predicament, “oh. Are you sure you want me to sleep in your bed?”

“Umm,” he looked at you, brows creasing in confusion, “yes? Why wouldn’t I?”

“What if I….bleed on your sheets or something?” your face warmed up as you tried not to think about the embarrassment you’d feel if that actually happened, “I don’t want to make it gross.”

“Baby,” so soft and tender that it almost made you cry, “I’m not worried about a little blood. It’s not disgusting or gross at all. If it happens, we’ll wash the sheets and call it a day. The only thing I’m worried about is making sure you’re doing okay.”

“I….yeah,” you looked at him with teary eyes and he smiled fondly at you before wiping away the tears that rolled down your cheeks, “I’m doing alright. Because of you - you’ve made me feel a lot better.”

“And to think you were going to cancel on me,” he tutted softly as he ushered you into the bedroom and started to turn down the bed, “you know you never have to hide anything from me.  I want to hear everything, all the good and all the bad.”

“I know,” you admitted softly, “it seems so silly now.”

“Well you are a member of the silly goose society,” he kissed the tip of your nose as you snorted in amusement, “anything else you need before we get in bed?”

“I just have to use the bathroom and then I’ll be good to go,” you started padding towards the bathroom. Eddie trailed after you, already reaching into the cabinet under the sink to grab a fresh pad for you. You reached for it to replace the one you had just tossed into the trash but Eddie didn’t let you take it, instead sticking it into your underwear for you, “thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” he whispered, “it’s not a big deal at all. Need some painkillers or anything?”

“I just need you,” you grinned, washing your hands before letting Eddie pulled back towards the bed.

“You’re in luck,” he slid under the covers, holding them up so you could get in after him, “I’m all yours and I’m ready to cuddle.”

“Sounds perfect,” Eddie immediately pulled you into his arms, tangling his limbs with yours. You relaxed and melted into him, his warm body having a soothing effect on yours, “I love you, Eddie.”

“I love you too, baby,” he wrapped his arm around your waist and pressed a row of kisses to your shoulder, “get some rest. And if you need anything at all, just tell me, okay?”

“I will,” you squeezed his hand, “promise me you’ll always tell me if you need anything too.”

“I promise always,” he said through a yawn that you ended up echoing, “good night, sweetheart.”

“Good night, Eddie.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson one shot #st #joseph quinn

[mrrharper]

Mandatory PE Class

Markus walked through the university campus, his face clearly showing his annoyance at the situation he was going through. His school decided to "promote physical activity among the student body", and by "promote" they meant a mandatory Physical Education class every junior had to go through. And Marcus was not happy about it.

Marcus was an introvert - he didn't particularly enjoy parties, going to bars, or other typical college activities. He spent his time reading, researching and weightlifting. This might seem weird for a "nerd", but whenever Marcus put on his noise-canceling headphones and grabbed the bar with 100 or so pounds on it, he felt like he could finally relax.

But even though Marcus enjoyed going to the gym, he enjoyed it when he was there alone - no one with him, the amount of people in the gym at a minimum. These were the perfect conditions for him. This class would not be it. He would have to deal with God knows how many people, plus most likely some smart ass coach, who thinks he's the next Arnold Schwarzenegger.

The university gave him a choice of what he wanted to do during the class and Marcus chose weight training, hoping he would be left alone and allowed to just follow his usual routine without any interruptions.

Marcus arrived at the athletics department's building and after wandering through its corridors he found his way to Weight Room C09. He knocked and heard a booming voice invite him inside. He opened the door and walked into a smallish locker room, where a few guys were getting ready and another man, clearly older than the others, stood on the side and waited. That was probably the coach.

"Marcus, right?" the supposed coach walked up to Marcus. "I'm Assistant Coach Baker and I'll be leading your group this semester." He extended his hand and Marcus shook it reluctantly. He quickly turned around and began changing into his gym gear.

Once everyone was ready (and there weren't many people in Marcus' group - only 6 guys) the group led by Coach Baker moved to the weight room proper. Marcus wanted to walk up to Baker and ask him if he could just do his own routine, but before he had mustered up the courage to do this Baker began warming up and expected the rest to do the same. Marcus rolled his eyes and sighed, before joining the group.

The next hour passed slowly. Baker had the group do a fairly quick and lite set of exercises, lite for Marcus at least. After the class had ended everyone was getting out of their sweaty shirts in the locker room. Marcus put his gear in his backpack and as the rest of the students began leaving the room, he walked up to Coach Baker.

"Sir, could I make a certain request?" He asked, a bit shy.

"Oh, Marcus, yeah? I also wanna talk with you about something. But go on." He wanted to talk with Marcus about something? That didn't sound great. He stood silent for a moment.

"So..." Baker looked at Marcus, his eyebrow raised.

"Oh yeah. So... I was wondering... I, I go to the gym quite often, and have for a few years now... and so I thought... Would it be a problem if during these PE classes I... I just followed my usual routine and you, you just did what you have planned with the rest?"

Coach smiled as he listened. Marcus wasn't sure if this was a good or a bad thing.

"Well, Marcus, I'm glad you see the importance of exercise. But I don't want no divisions in my group, you understand. I want to work with all of you, show something to everyone. Although, because you asked, I'll be sure to adjust the exercises for your level." Marcus nodded, although he wasn't really happy with Baker's response. "And while we're talking, I wanted to ask you something - would you be interested in trying out for our football team?"

This took Marcus by surprise. The football team? Where did that idea come from? He was not about to join a group of brain dead jocks.

"What?" he simply asked, confused.

"Well, I have noticed your strength during our hour together. And I think you would do great on the gridiron." Baker put his hand on Marcus' shoulder. Marcus did not like that.

"Wel, uhm... thank you for the proposition, but... no, I'm, I don't think I would fit in."

"Are you sure? I could help you fit in just right." Baker grinned again.

"Yeah... I'm sure... Mr. Baker" Marcus stood there and avoided eye contact with the older man.

"Call me Coach" Baker laughed. "If you're sure... well, I ain't gonna force ya. Now go, I'll see you next week."

As Marcus left the building he sighed. This was going to be an exhausting semester.

Reality turned out weirder than he expected.

As the months progressed Marcus attended every PE class, his annoyance with Baker's refusal to just let him do what he wanted not strong enough to risk messing with his attendance. Baker meanwhile stuck to his word, and for the most part Marcus was doing what the rest of the group was doing.

Although... this wasn't the whole truth. Because even though Marcus wasn't allowed to do his own thing, while doing the exercises Baker would come up to him and ask him to change something about the movements, add more weight, do another variant of the exercise. So even though he was working with the group, he did get the chance to do way more challenging things.

Baker himself was weirdly invested, at least that's how it seemed to Marcus. He very much got into that role of the supportive coach, he stood next to Marcus, counted his reps, motivated him to "just push further". Marcus found that strange, but didn't want to get into any kind of argument with the coach, so he just went along with this.

As the semester came to an end Marcus also had to admit he got something out of these classes. The exercises Baker had him do were pushing his limits, and he did adjust his normal gym routine to include stuff he learnt from him As he looked in the mirror, standing in his room on the day of the last class before the end of the semester he had to admit he was bigger than 5 months prior.

The last class came and went pretty uneventfully. Marcus beat his PB on the bench by 10 pounds and after an hour he came back to the locker room sweaty and gross. Baker thanked all the guys for coming, asked them to continue going to the gym and said goodbye.

As Marcus got ready to leave the locker room Baker looked at him and said "See you at practice, 90" and went back to the weight room. Marcus had no idea what that meant, but the class was over so he just shrugged and left.

Marcus entered his dorm room and sat behind his desk. He had some work to do on a paper he wanted to submit next week. He opened his laptop and quickly got to work. After a while he needed something to drink so he stood up and walked up to his mini fridge. There he noticed a mug standing on top of it. It was a cup branded with the logo of the Lions, his university's football team.

This was weird, as Marcus did not recall ever getting any merchandise like that. Maybe someone left it here by mistake, Marcus didn't know. But it seemed it was the only clean mug he had, so he quickly poured soda into it and went back to his laptop.

He got into the flow of writing and research pretty quickly. Then, around half an hour later, he was surprised by a notification from some group chat. 10 unread messages from "jungle kingssss 💪". What the hell was that? Marcus was sure he never joined such a conversation. Maybe it was some new kind of scam.

The notifications just kept coming, and at one point instead of deleting it Marcus clicked on it and a chat window appeared.

nah bruh, ya slayed that bitch well dude - steroidss#96

dude concentrate ffs - big dog jake#7

stfu bros where the fuck is tron where ya need him - mike chief#53

hes jerkin of or meal preppin bro, ya know that - steroidss#96

Marcus looked at the chat, even though he had no idea what he was looking at. It seemed he somehow had access to a group chat of some random meatheads. Although the numbers from their nicknames were tickling something at the back of his head, somehow.

if hes jerkin his fat dick ill kick his fat ass, we have state to fuckin beat - big dog jake#7

State? What does it mean they have to beat-- oh yeah, the Lions' next game is against Ohio State.

Wait.

What does that we mean in "we have state to beat"?

How did he know the Lions' schedule?

Marcus felt his head spin a little. Was he sick? He looked at the screen again and suddenly a new message appeared.

am not fuckin jerkin off you piece of shit, got fuckin dumbass school to take care of you idiots - tron's big dick#90

Marcus looked down. His fingers were still touching the keys. HE WROTE THAT!

And that we... It meant the football team! Marcus was reading the football team's group conversation. How the fuck did this happen?!

dunno why i even bother wit any of your stupid fat asses you fuckin shits - tron's big dick#90

Marcus jumped out of the chair. He did it again! His fingers were betraying him. He shut the laptop down and opened the window. Maybe he had to breathe in some fresh air. Was he hallucinating? Was this some infection? What was happening to him?!

He sat on his bed and breathed in, then out. In and out, in and out. In and out. In and out-- was he drooling!? Marcus wiped the drool from his face. It was getting late and he decided it would be beneficial to go to bed early. He turned around to get to his bed only to notice a sweaty hoodie with badly cut-off sleeves. It had the Lions' logo on the front and the number 90 on the back.

This was not happening.

This was just a dream.

Marcus told himself that repeatedly as he got into his PJs. He checked if his laptop was turned off and laid on his bed. He could swear he could feel a faint smell of sweat and... cum? But this didn't stop him from quickly falling asleep.

Marcus was dragged out of sleep by his alarm clock. He slowly got his body into an upright position, then began going through his usual morning routine.

He made himself a protein shake with added creatine.

He ate the oatmeal and eggs he always had for breakfast.

He put on the sweaty shirt from two days ago. It was fine, no one would notice. And he looked hot in it anyways.

He sent a message on the group chat.

you bitches ready to get dominated n pushed into the grass by my fat dick - tron's big dick#90

He got his gear ready and put his duffel bag on his shoulder.

the faggot of the team has spoken everybody - hall/of/glory#38

Marcus walked through the campus. He let out a dumb chuckle as he read the message. Jalen was the best.

not everyone can slay pussy like tron, bitch - tron's big dick#90

He entered the building and walked towards the locker room-- Marcus suddenly stopped and looked around.

Where was he?

He didn't remember waking up.

He didn't remember dressing up.

He didn't remember coming here.

Where was he?

As he tried to understand what the fuck was going on Assistant Coach Baker appeared, walking through the corridor, coming towards him.

"You know why you're here, Marcus?"

"No!" Marcus shouted, surprising himself, but not Baker.

"As I thought. Follow me" the older man waved at him and Marcus instinctively followed his lead. They walked through the football wing of the athletics department until they reached a door. Locker Room L01.

They both entered - Baker first, Marcus second - and Coach pointed to an open locker. Marcus walked up to it and looked inside.

Jersey. Number 90. Schoeder. His name.

Shoulder pads.

Cleats.

Condoms.

Gym gear.

It all reeked of sweat.

So fuckin' musky.

Huhuhuhuh, a proper jock's smell, bro

bro

bruh

WHAT!?

Coach came up to Marcus and looked him in the eyes.

"Do you know why you're here, 90?"

Marcus opened his mouth and tried to answer. But no words came out.

Coach grinned and took a sweaty Under Armour shirt from his locker. He then put the shirt up to his nostrils.

Marcus automatically inhaled and a fog descended over his mind. He took a few more sniffs. So sweaty, so musky. A fuckin' football jock's smell. A stupid grin appeared on his face, drool began flowing from his mouth. Bruh, that was so fuckin' good bro.

"Sick bro..." Tron drawled and put his arms into a double bicep pose. Coach Baker just smiled and took back the shirt before throwing it into the locker.

"Now, 90, put on the gear. I've trained a new defensive end for 5 months. Let's see it it was worth the hassle." He patted Tron on the back before barking at him. "Main field in 2 minutes or you won't be able to walk for a week, 90!"

"Huhuhuhuh" Tron responded with a dumb chuckle. "Yeah, Coach. No worries, dude."

He then quickly got ready and ran out onto the field.

whos ready for a fuckin beatin - tron's big dick#90

#nerd to jock tf #personality change #football jock #jock tf #jock

[royalwilmon]

this is a prequel of sorts to always on the tip of my tongue! a glimpse into wille and simon's very first taco tuesday. eventually (like, after all of tomt is published, so basically never) this will be one part in a series of mikael pov insights into wilmon's relationship, but i wanted to share this for now! enjoy!! <333

if he likes you, he'll smile

Mikael had been working at Geronimo’s for nearly two months the day that he met Wille and Simon. 

He didn’t even think he’d be in the job that long. He had just been laid off from another corporate bullshit position and had been enjoying a proper midlife crisis when another eviction notice forced him to resort to bartending again. Geronimo’s FGT was decidedly not his kind of place. He hated how touristy the area was, hated the shitty bands the owners constantly had in for live entertainment, and more than anything, hated how monotonous the job started feeling just after a couple of weeks. 

He wanted to quit. He was seriously considering giving his notice. He nearly did several times, but for whatever reason, he kept hesitating. It was good that he had a job for now, but he was already restless. Something was missing. Mikael didn’t know what he would do or where to go next, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was invisible here. Mikael couldn’t even remember the last time he had an honest-to-God conversation with someone. In this town, the idea of him disappearing forever without a soul noticing he was gone was more reality than fear. 

And then, one day, on a Tuesday in autumn just like any other Tuesday, Crown Prince Wilhelm sat at the bar right before him. 

Mikael didn’t give a shit about the royal family. He was surprised he even recognized him. He probably only did because Wilhelm was around the same age as Sanna, his daughter. Mikael remembered the headlines when Erik passed away. It was right after Mikael got into that last big argument with Nea before she packed everything they owned, left, and took Sanna with her. He remembered watching the videos of Erik’s funeral on the news, seeing pictures and closeups of Wilhelm, and just thinking about how young he looked. 

He still looked young now. His hair was shorter, his face more angular, and he didn’t look sad like he always did when he was on the news. Quite the opposite, really. He had another person with him tonight, a shorter boy who looked even younger, whose smile seemed so bright and genuine that Mikael almost felt blinded by it. As the two boys slid into their respective barstools, bright laughter filled the room, and Mikael thought that today would be different. He didn’t know how, and he didn’t know if the change he felt was necessarily a good one, but it was different. 

He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to address the prince in any sort of particular way. For a moment, he thought maybe the prince was trying to be discreet, and he shouldn’t address him at all, but the pair of security staff who followed the duo inside and positioned themselves nearby made it clear that Crown Prince Wilhelm was here. Plus, people around the restaurant noticed him and started staring. All eyes Mikael could see were on Wilhelm. 

If the attention bothered Wilhelm and the boy sitting beside him, they didn’t let it show. Mikael couldn’t imagine that it didn’t. He felt awful for the kids. As the stares turned into whispers turned into audible speculation, Mikael felt the urge to yell at everyone to shut the fuck up and leave them alone. But if he was going to quit this job, he at least wanted to do so on good terms so he could still have references. He did not need to have to explain the fact that he was fired because he lost his temper in front of a prince to his next employers. 

Realizing that he was staring, too, and was maybe now part of the problem, Mikael cleared his throat, leaning forward on the bar and raising his voice so Wilhelm and his friend could hear him. 

“Can I get you boys something to drink?” Mikael asked, trying his best to sound casual and uninterested.

“What do you have with tequila?” Wilhelm asked. His voice was teasing, his smile playful. Mikael was caught off-guard. He hadn’t spent any amount of time thinking about what the Crown Prince might be like, but this young, smiling boy was nothing like what he might have expected. 

Mikael didn’t say anything, just narrowed his eyes a little. He picked up a drink menu and placed it down in front of Wilhelm, dragging his finger around the portion of the menu that listed their cocktails and detailed which tequilas they had on the shelf. 

Mikael watched Wilhelm’s smile twist into an amused smirk before he looked down at where Mikael was pointing. 

“Mmm, I’ll take a ginger beer, please,” Wilhelm’s friend said, reading the drink menu over Wilhelm’s shoulder. Mikael nodded and reached under the bar, opening the cooler and pulling out a glass bottle. He placed it in front of the boy, who smiled at him brightly and thanked him. Exceedingly polite. 

Mikael took a moment to size up the prince’s companion. He certainly didn’t seem royal or even royal adjacent. He looked astoundingly normal. While Wilhelm was outfitted stylishly and professionally in a collared shirt and smart sweater, the other boy came simply dressed in jeans and an old hoodie with the drawstring missing. The two boys looked like they came from two different worlds, but at the same time, there was a sort of familiarity and ease between them that felt… right. 

“How spicy is the spicy margarita?” Wilhelm asked, looking up at Mikael with a glimmer of mischief in his eyes that Mikael didn’t quite know what to do with. 

“No. No, Wille,” the boy cut in before Mikael could even open his mouth to answer. “You can’t keep pretending you like spicy things. You’ll take two sips, spend the rest of dinner complaining about it, and end up wasting the entire drink.”

“You don’t know that,” Wilhelm grumbled, pouting dramatically as he looked back down at the menu. 

Mikael had to bite back a chuckle. It was amusing how comfortable the boys seemed with each other. The boy called the prince Wille and teased him knowingly. It was strange, seeing someone so famous casually sat in front of him, so strikingly human. Mikael felt drawn to the prince and his friend, almost like he was a part of their world. Or, maybe stranger, that they were a part of his. 

“I’ll order the House Margarita if you can tell me what’s in Geronimo’s Secret Margarita Mix,” Wilhelm said, looking at Mikael with that same playful smile that continued to catch him off guard. 

“It’s written in the employee handbook that if we tell someone, we have to kill them,” Mikael said, without thinking. He had a moment of doubt when he thought that maybe threatening violence against a prince might not be the smartest move, but at Wilhelm’s widening smile, he continued. “It also explicitly states that we do not grant exceptions regardless of rank. The only way one can learn the secret of the Margarita Mix is if they have concerns about allergens.” 

Wilhelm’s friend laughed at that, beaming at Mikael with a thousand-watt smile. 

“Oh, I like you already,” he said. The boy looked at Mikael closer now, considering him in the same careful way Mikael had just done with him. After so much thought about how working in this part of Stockholm made him seem invisible, in this moment, he felt almost unnervingly seen. “I’m Simon. Best friend of Wille. Official title. What’s your name?”

Still apprehensive, Mikael just pointed to his chest, where a nametag was pinned to his apron. 

“Mikael,” Wilhelm read, grinning wide.

“Good, he can read,” Mikael muttered to himself before he had a second to think better of it. 

His gaze flickered over to Simon, who looked like a kid at a candy store. Clearly, he was delighted that Mikael was instantly willing to poke fun at Wilhelm. Mikael didn’t know why he was chasing the approval of this… kid. Especially at the expense of the actual Crown Prince of their country. It was something to do with Simon’s smile, Mikael thought. It felt familiar. It reminded him of Sanna. 

Mikael knew his face fell at that realization. He also knew that Simon had caught it, and Mikael watched as his smile faltered, but only for a fraction of a second. 

“Literacy is one of his better qualities,” Simon said to Mikael, glancing over at Wilhelm with a fond roll of his eyes. 

“It’s ‘Gang Up on Wille’ day, huh?” Wilhelm muttered, looking up briefly to glare at Simon. Simon just laughed lightly, looking down at the food menu the hostess had given them when they first sat down. 

Someone in Mikael’s position would have to be blind not to notice the rush of pink on Simon’s cheeks. Mikael remembered what it was like to be that age, no older than nineteen or twenty if Mikael had to guess. He recognized Simon’s exact blush from his early memories of Nea. 

Mikael wasn’t ready to make any assumptions, but he was briefly curious. He thought he would have heard something if the prince was gay. Or bisexual or whatever, Mikael didn’t know. Then again, maybe they were trying to be discreet. But, Mikael thought, there were definitely places more discreet than a busy restaurant in the middle of Gamla stan, just minutes away from the royal palace. 

So, they were probably best friends. Still, Mikael noticed the way Simon looked at Wilhelm, like he had just hung the moon. It wasn’t nothing. 

None of his business, though. 

“I’ll have the House Margarita. Salted rim, please. For now, you can keep your secrets,” Wilhelm said, smiling at Mikael again. “But next time, I’ll find a way to get you to tell me while also sparing my precious life.”  

“Precious,” Mikael scoffed, causing Simon to let out another breath of laughter. 

Mikael opened his mouth to ask to see Wilhelm’s ID before he stopped short. Do members of the royal family even carry identification? Mikael knew Wilhelm was over eighteen, but he was still legally required to ask. Unless there was an exception for princes? He didn’t think there would be, but he also had no reason to know. Would Wilhelm get mad at him for asking? He couldn’t help but glance over to the security guards, who, admittedly, looked terrifying. 

Mikael thought back to how he wanted to quit this job before they fired him. He did not want to have to tell the story of how he was fired for not carding the Crown Prince. 

“Can I see your ID?” Mikael asked, keeping his expression as neutral as possible. 

Wilhelm looked surprised for a moment, but he instantly reached into his pocket to remove his wallet and his ID, which, apparently, he did carry with him. That was good to know. 

“I’ve never seen you get carded before,” Simon said to Wilhelm, beaming ear to ear. “This is the best day of my life. I hope the food is good, Wille. This might finally be our place. It feels right.” 

Mikael glanced down at Wilhelm’s ID (which was weird, so extremely weird. Wilhelm had so many names and probably the nicest picture Mikael had ever seen on an ID) before handing it back to him wordlessly. 

Mikael set to work making Wilhelm’s drink, thinking that their interaction was over for now, but Simon spoke up again, surprising him.

“So, Mikael,” Simon said, his voice curious and friendly. “Have you always lived in Stockholm?” 

The answer to the question was no, but Mikael was a very private guy. He didn’t want strangers asking him personal questions. It was none of their business. Especially not the prince’s. 

Mikael finished pouring the last of the ingredients into his cocktail shaker before answering Simon’s question with a frown and a shrug. It wasn’t a yes or a no—it was just an acknowledgment. Simon seemed to take the hint, and he just smiled at him with a nod. Understanding, gracious, unnervingly kind. 

Simon and Wilhelm were quiet while Mikael finished making the drink. They looked around, admiring the space. For all of its faults, Geronimo’s FGT was fun. Decked out in colorful textiles, weird bird taxidermy, and neon cacti, the place felt like a fever dream interpretation of the American Southwest. Mikael did love it, and so, as it would seem, did Simon and Wilhelm, who each wore small, pleased smiles on their faces as they took in the atmosphere of Geronimo’s. 

Giving the margarita a few good shakes, Mikael poured it into a mason jar with a salted rim and slid the drink over to Wilhelm, who thanked him profusely and wasted no time downing half the drink with one prolonged sip.  

“Nectar of the gods…” Wilhelm mused, putting the jar down with a satisfied sigh. Mikael still didn’t know quite what to make of Wilhelm, but he thought that he liked him. Or, at least, he was pleased that the prince seemed to approve of his bartending skills. 

“Anything to eat?” Mikael asked, using both his hands to point at the pair of menus in front of Wilhelm and Simon. 

“It’s Tuesday, so definitely tacos,” Wilhelm said, with so much enthusiasm. 

“Which tacos would you recommend?” Simon asked, looking up from his menu to Mikael. 

“They’re all fucking great,” Mikael said, truthfully. Since starting here, Mikael had tried and enjoyed pretty much the entire menu. “Birria are good. Fish, too.” 

Mikael watched Simon and Wilhelm exchange a look, wordlessly communicating before Simon nodded and grinned, turning back to Mikael. 

“Perfect, we’ll try those,” Simon said, before glancing back at Wilhelm. “And we’ll split them so we can both try both.” 

“And queso, too. Please. As much as you’re willing to give us,” Wilhelm added, before doing something weird with his eyes. Mikael thought Wilhelm might have been trying to wink, but he wasn’t sure. He might just have something really wrong with his vision. 

Mikael left to put in their food orders, and then, a little reluctantly, went back to work. As much as his curiosity made him want to linger by Wilhelm and Simon, there were other patrons sitting at his bar, and more drink orders coming in for him to work on. Even if he had literal royalty at his bar, Mikael couldn’t afford to give them all of his attention. He was cutting his rent a little too close as is. 

While Mikael was able to busy himself with the Taco Tuesday crowd, he did occasionally try to listen in to Simon and Wilhelm’s conversation, just to get a better idea as to what their deal was. He wanted to know why they were here, of all places.

It sounded like they were catching up on the past week or so of their lives. Simon must have been a student, probably here in Stockholm, as he spent most of his meal talking animatedly to Wilhelm about various classes and professors. Wilhelm was listening intently, nodding along and peppering in questions and comments throughout. 

Mikael realized that their appearance at Geronimo’s was really quite simple. Wilhelm and Simon were two friends, meeting for dinner to catch up on each other’s lives. There was nothing fancy, no royal banquets or expensive wines or anything. Just two friends sat at a bar, eating tacos and talking about their day. 

It was… endearing. 

When it was getting late, and their plates were all but licked clean, Mikael approached Wilhelm and Simon again, leaning against the bar opposite them. He offered them a sort of smile, a slight purse of his lips that was just about as friendly as his face could get. 

“Good?”

“Fucking great,” Wilhelm grinned, repeating Mikael’s praise from earlier. 

Giving the boys a satisfied nod, Mikael placed the bill between Simon and Wilhelm. Simon let out a loud bark of laughter before pushing the bill directly to Wilhelm. 

“Why do I always get stuck paying?” Wilhelm said, teasingly. Still, he didn’t hesitate to immediately take out his wallet and hand Mikael a card, smiling politely all the while. 

“Wilhelm, do not get me started today. You are already on such thin ice,” Simon said, his voice surprisingly serious. Simon must have had plenty of thoughts on the excessive amount of cash Wilhelm surely had at his disposal. It was surprising—in a good way, Mikael thought. Wilhelm seemed to have a friend with a good head on his shoulders. Polite, engaging, and willing to challenge him. 

Mikael really, really liked this Simon kid. 

He also really, really missed Sanna.

Mikael ran Wilhelm’s card and returned it to him. Wilhelm pocketed his wallet, thanked Mikael again, and then started to get up. 

“You’ll be working next week, right Mikael?” Simon asked as he stood. Mikael was surprised at the question and didn’t answer right away. He just stared at Simon for a prolonged moment, raising an eyebrow. “Next Taco Tuesday. We’ll see you here again. Next week?” 

Mikael shrugged and smiled a little. He supposed he would stick around until next week, at least, if that meant seeing Wilhelm and Simon again. He was still curious about them. He wanted to listen to them more and try to understand them better. 

“Next week, then,” Wilhelm smiled. He crinkled his eyes in that weird and awkward way again—probably a wink. Then, with a final wave, they left Geronimo’s, security detail in tow. 

Suddenly, Mikael’s monotonous job felt like the most interesting place in the entire country. Maybe Mikael would quit next week. 

But for now, he’d stay. Make a couple of margaritas. Eat a few more tacos. Have a fucking good time. 

#ally writes #tomt #i wasnt sure if i was gonna publish this anywhere but it turns out im too proud of it to gatekeep #oops #also me naming this after another jimmy song??? classic me #ok bye

[steviesbicrisis]

part 1

[TW: internalized homophobia | compulsory heterosexuality]

Eddie doesn't want to have a problem with Steve.

Steve is great, he's one of his best friends, contrary to all predictions, he enjoys his company, he feels at ease around him, and he knows he can always count on him.

He really doesn't want to have a problem with Steve.

When he had come out to him, a few weeks ago, Steve looked so scared and worried about his reaction. Eddie had reassured him immediately that nothing was going to change and he meant it. He hated the look on Steve's face, the idea that he didn't know if he could trust him.

Of course, Eddie was surprised. Never in a million years he would have thought of Steve as a gay - actually, bisexual - person. But other than surprise, Eddie desperately wanted to be cool with it, to be there for Steve.

It wasn't as easy as he thought.

Slowly, Steve begins to be more open about it - as much as a small town in Indiana could let him: he talks about it with Robin, sometimes with Eddie; he comes out to other people, like Dustin, Nancy and Jonathan; he ventures gay bars outside of Hawkins, he tests the waters until he's comfortable enough to actually make a move on someone.

Eddie feels bad every second of it. For every little milestone in Steve's journey, Eddie has an ugly rancid feeling at the bottom of his stomach. "I kissed a guy last night", Eddie wants to puke.

"There was this hot dude, we got out for a smoke and then-", Eddie stops listening because he knows he's close to snapping.

"I told Dustin, you wouldn't believe how cool he was with it!", Eddie feels bad, wishing he was a better friend.

Eddie tries to overcome these emotions, he really does. But sometimes he would make a face, say the wrong thing, huff or roll his eyes and Steve would notice every time.

The last straw for both of them comes on an ordinary Thursday evening. Steve is beaming and sighing as he looks out of the family video door, until Eddie has to ask what is going on.

«I have a date, a guy asked me out last night. Like, a proper date!»

«Wow Harrington, I didn’t know you gave up on women entirely» it is supposed to be a joke, but comes out bitter.

They fight. Steve can’t take any more of the snarky comments and the bad looks and Eddie knows that he’s right, but also he’s doing his best, he just needs time.

Steve tells him it’s better if they stop hanging out for a while and Eddie protests, but he can’t do more when Steve tells him «if you can look at me in the eyes and tell me you don’t have a problem with me, then I can go past this and pretend it never happened.»

He tries but Eddie can’t do it, he can't lie to him. Steve’s face falls and Eddie gets out of the store being mad at everything but mostly at himself.

—

No one says it, but it looks like a breakup. Their friends pick up sides: Robin refuses to talk to him, Nancy and Jonathan are disappointed in him but still hang out with him when Steve isn't around, Dustin doesn’t know what happened but calls him a dick for good measure.

Eddie doesn’t complain, he knows what he deserves.

The only person who's still happy to talk to him is Chrissy. After their disastrous first date -Eddie will never ask Robin for movie advice ever again, a musical about pirates with reincarnations and lightsabers, what was she thinking?- somehow she was still happy to keep dating Eddie.

Eddie likes her, she’s nice, pretty and she isn’t as clingy as other girls Eddie dated before. They mostly talk and do stuff together, sometimes they make out but nothing more, Eddie likes it better that way.

They’re going back to his van after dinner when Eddie spots Steve in his own car, with a guy. Steve is laughing at something the guy says and then they’re kissing.

Eddie doesn’t know where the rage inside of him comes from, but he needs to leave. He realizes too late that Chrissy saw them as well. The rage turns into fear.

«Chrissy, don’t tell anyone what you saw, please» he pleads, worried about Steve.

She takes a look at Eddie’s face, then back at Steve. A thought crosses her mind.

«Uhm yeah, sure… can we go back to your place?»

Eddie is nervous for the whole ride. Half of him is worried about Chrissy saying something about Steve around, the other fears that she plans to have sex with him tonight.

Eddie opens the door for her and follows her inside, nervously.

She asks for a drink but she doesn’t step any closer to Eddie which makes him relax a little.

Actually, she sits at the opposite end of Eddie’s couch and only after they had a good amount of alcohol in their system, she faces Eddie.

She comes a little closer to him, and he feels nervous again. She seems nervous too so he completely misunderstands the situation.

«I don’t wanna have sex tonight!» he blurts out, surprising the both of them. She stares at him for a second before chuckling.

«Eddie, relax» she smiles reassuringly «this is not about us- I mean, also us but- I wanna talk about Steve.»

Eddie looks at her, completely thrown aback by her request. She knew that they had a fight but she didn't know about what, obviously, so she probably connected the dots after what she saw and his reaction.

He tells her about everything, the words come out easily and she is a great listener, mostly nodding from time to time. By the end of it, she looks determined.

«So, I get you wanna get over these ugly feelings because Steve is your friend, right? I think I can help. Drink more» she lends him another beer from the coffee table «and bare with me, okay?»

«First of all, let's talk about gay people. Does it bother you if you see two guys together?»

«Well no, not really» he answers, after giving it some thought.

«So this is about Steve» she concludes for him «it bothers you thinking of him with a guy?»

He doesn't want to admit it, but he also trusts Chrissy «yeah, it does...»

«And, does it bother you thinking of him with a girl?»

«What does that have to do with-» Chrissy interrupts him «just answer the question. If he got a girlfriend, someone that he really liked, would that bother you?»

Eddie gives it some thought. He had seen Steve dating girls before, but all of his dates turned into a disaster. It was something he expected, he had noticed and made that comment about him dating nerds.

What if he found another girl like Nancy? or someone like Robin who liked him back?

Horrified, Eddie realizes he doesn’t like the sound of that either.

«Oh shit.»

AN: the final part is almost done, I thought it would be better to split it and not make you wait too long after the first part, I hope it’s okay! Thank you for the support on the first part, really! If everything goes well I'm posting the last part tomorrow.

If you’re curious, Robin made Eddie rent The pirate movie, please google it if you have time. It’s so bad. Robin is a great friend to Steve, not so much to Eddie.

Part 3

----

Tag list: @funnymagicman-named-dandy @manda-panda-monium

#it gets worse before it gets better #trust me #steddie #steve harrington #bi steve harrington #gay eddie munson #steve and eddie #eddie munson #stranger things #steve x eddie #internalized homophobia #compulsory heterosexuality #sbc writes #ficlets

[howlingday]

AU idea jaune the street fighter.

Combining elements from street fighter 6 as jaune becomes a well known fighter on the streets. He's no hero or villain. He just doesn't want to be bored.

Jaune: "well now...let's see if you care do something about my boredom..."

You have... NO IDEA how much I've wanted to do something like this. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to finally bring this AU I've had in mind to life. I just wasn't sure how to start it off, so... I'll go for a three-fer on this one. Three short bits to start off this story I've had in my brain for what feels like YEARS. And once again, thank you, for giving me the chance to create... My Bare Knuckle Arc.

-------------------------------------------------------------

"Again!" Jaune came charging across the yard, sprinting as hard as he could, before leaping and kicking the strike pad in his father's hands. As he landed, the pad came back in kind. "Don't slow down!"

Jaune, however, was caught off guard by the sudden rush and fell to on his back. Knowing better than to be stuck to the ground, he clapped his hands against the dirt and rolled to his feet. The pad came swinging at him too fast for him to dodge, so he held his fist up to guard his face.

But it wasn't good enough and his fist crashed into his face, bringing a stinging pain to his eye and nose. Another pad came for the other side of his head, so he brought his fist up proper this time. Learning his lesson, the impact was much less than stunning than the one before.

"Block!"

The pads retreated and a leg curled in front of him. Jaune swung his arm down to block, but it was easily batted away before his chest was struck by the heel of his father's foot. He stumbled back, grunting through the pain, bringing his hands up to block any more blows.

"Jaune!"

In a blink, the match was over, and not just because Mom called his name. No, his father's massive foot close enough to his face that he could smell it, and it was only by the grace of his mother that it didn't bash his face in today. When the foot came down, he looked to her on the porch.

"Yeah, Mom?"

"It's from Beacon!"

-------------------------------------------------------------

Jaune still couldn't believe it. He was here in Vale, waiting for the bullhead to Beacon Academy, one of the four huntsmen academies, all of which were deemed the most prestigious schools in the four kingdoms, and he was so... so...

"Aaaaaah~!" He yawned.

Because he was so bored! I mean, he was excited, too, but there wasn't anything to do in between waiting for the bullhead and actually getting on the bullhead. The gym was closed, so he couldn't work out, and the comic book shop was closed, so he couldn't read anything other than his mom's "Special Little Guy" book in case he got homesick. Not in public, anyways.

Suddenly, he heard a crash coming from inside a dark building. Judging by the pulsing lights, the thrumming music, and the open door, it looked like a night club. Nobody was standing at the door, and his curiosity got the better of him. He peered inside and he couldn't believe what he saw.

There was a fight going on! A real-life bar brawl, just like in his dad's stories! Setting his bag down, he got closer to the scene.

Okay, what was it he was supposed to do? He wanted to get in on the action, but he'd only really done one on one at home. The girl in the center of the dance floor was taking on two other girls at once! Should he wait his turn, or should he help her out?

Well, time to try out the old tried and true.

"Hey, uh, you need any hel-"

Jaune's vision blurred as he was sent into the guard rails. He felt his body slump with an arm hanging over the metal bar. Heck of a sucker punch on the blonde girl, and those two other girls weren't anywhere to be found either. Guess he was supposed to wait for his turn, right? Well now it was his turn.

"What, you still want some?" She asked, snarling with red eyes. She must have hit him really hard because he was still tearing up. Why else was her hair glowing? "I've got enough in me to put you down, too!"

Jaune didn't say anything this time. He learned a long time ago that running your mouth was an invite to running the other person's hands. He put his fists up and approached in a boxer's stance. She put her fists, letting one loose to flip the "C'mere!" at him. He wasn't falling for it. Not this time

She tossed a jab at him, testing the waters. She tapped his knuckles. He flared his nostrils. Tap. Tap. Tap.

She swung with a hook, Jaune moved in and drove an uppercut into her ribs. She backed up a bit, grunting, before she came back with a yell and another hook. Jaune kept his guard up and stepped in again, this time driving a cross into her face. She stumbled a bit, blinking at the face-shot. He was doing pretty good. Not bad for his first-

Was she getting brighter?

-------------------------------------------------------------

Jaune was in hell. He died at that bar fight last night, and he was now in hell. How else would you explain his aching body, his stomach turning, and the mocking chatter around him? The only comfort he had was his bag/pillow under his head. That, and his memory of last night's fight.

Though that last bit was only made all the more awkward by the fact that same girl was standing across from him. His saving grace was her standing with a bunch of people standing between them. Well, that and the smaller girl in her arms. He heard the fighter calling the smaller girl "Sis" which made him a little happy that she had family on the bullhead with her. Kinda made him homesick.

He didn't pull out the book, though. Too many witnesses.

"Hello, and welcome to Beacon." He looked up to see a woman speaking on the screen. "My name is Glynda Goodwitch." Suddenly, there was turbulence and whatever was said next didn't matter to Jaune. He needed a bathroom or a trashcan NOW! He bolted for the front of the bullhead, beating on the bathroom door.

No good, AND he was getting worse! He bolted for the back, the woman on the screen now gone and leaving only the beautiful view of the waters below. He didn't have time to admire the view because he was about to ruin everyone's day all over the floor of the bullhead.

How were both bullhead bathrooms occupied right now?! The statistics will show that Jaune didn't have to consider the odds. He was gonna hurl in three... two...

The bullhead door opened and Jaune bowled over everyone in his way as he rushed out. The nearest trashcan by the door, thank god, was his target. He spilled his guts into the can, making people groan and retch as they passed. So much for good first day.

Wiping his chin, he walked back into the bullhead, hell itself, and grabbed his bag. Thankfully, nobody took it while he left to... relieve himself. Which was good. Stepping out to Beacon, empty belly and sure of himself, he took in the sight of what must have been straight from a fairy tale! Tall, towering, er, towers... towered over- There were towers, okay?

Oh, and students were already walking around with weapons, too! Guess they started handing them out now. Okay, he just had to find out where the armory or the forge or whatever was making their weapons was and he could get started on building his weapons!

Oh wow, they really got some pretty neat weapons, huh? I mean, that kid has a collapsible staff, and she has a fire sword, too! Then he saw one girl whip out her scythe in the middle of the street! And nobody is batting an eye! Okay, time to ask somebody.

"Uh, excuse me?"

"Uh, yeah?" A bald guy replied, a bow strapped to his back.

"Where did you get your weapon?"

"I, uh, built it myself back at Sanctum." He replied. He then looked Jaune up and down and around, then pointing at Jaune's bag. "Is your weapon in your bag?"

"Huh?" He looked down. "Uh, no, that's just my bag. Wait, hang on, where do I get my weapon?"

"You should have had it since you got here." He then checks his watch. "Oh, shish-kabob! I gotta go, but, uh, I'd ask a professor whenever you can!"

He then ran off, leaving Jaune alone. In the street. With his bag. And nothing else. It was at this moment that Jaune knew... he done goofed.

"Fu-"

#rwby #jaune arc #yang xiao long #ruby rose #glynda goodwitch #papa arc #mama arc #rwby au #bare knuckle arc #bare knuckle jaune #no weapons jaune #bare knuckle arc au #bare knuckle jaune au #no weapons jaune au #my answer #my answers

[mischiefmaker615]

A Loki request: Loki telling reader, "Don't be so stubborn".

Spiked

Rating: PG-14

It was only a second right? Perhaps a few? But even in what seemed to be a short amount of time, anything could happen.. but if only he knew it was going to involve his dear, sweet Y/N, he would have never have stepped away for that phone call, that useless yet.. strange phone call that pulled him out of the club to hear better just for a man to be talking nonsense.

Loki being Loki and already having a dislike to most mortals, hung up on the man immediately when it was clear the man was not going to get a single, proper sentence in without stuttering; and yet, he didn’t sense any fear behind the mans voice..

trying to shake it off, he quickly went back inside towards where he left his girlfriend, thinking nothing of it as she seemed to be resting most of her weight onto the bar with her back towards him and her mini skirt almost begging to be ripped off. Refraining.. for now, he leaned on the bar beside her with a smile on his face ‘’miss me darling?’’ he casually said before his smile soon faded.

‘’like oxygen-‘’ Y/N giggled, looking at him with glassy eyes and her balance swayed frequently.

Loki gave a slight smile as she hiccupped every 10 seconds while his eyes glanced at her drink. It was only half full.. although Y/N wasn’t much of a drinker, that amount alone wasn’t enough to get her this drunk..

Loki reached out and placed a balancing hand at the base of her back to steady her, shooting the barkeep a daggered look. Had he put something in her drink? What concoction could these Midgardians have slipped her that would affect her so? His senses went on high alert as he let his gaze flick over the crowd. Was there going to be an attack? Was that why she'd been given something to make her this drunk this fast? Was drawing him away supposed to be a distraction so someone could do this to her? Was she the target or him? Or someone else...

‘’did you have fun on your phone call babe?’’ she smiled, drawing his attention back to her as she straightened herself before she had to fall into him where he was quick to catch, holding her firmly against him in case her knees gave out again. Usually this would be quite a pleasant little flirt to hold her this close that he could feel the curves of her body against his and smell the sweetness of her skin, but under these conditions, it made him both nervous and suspicious. What was going on here?

He kept his face calm so as not to seem suspicious, a smug little smile pulling on his lips as he gently spoke to his lovely little dove.  "Fun isn't the word I'd use, but you..." his voice trailed off as he examined her. It didn't help that she was rather cute when she was giggly and tipsy, "You seem to be having a ball, my dear. Did someone get you another drink while I was away? I'll admit I'd be jealous if someone was trying to woo my girlfriend away from me."

''pfft as if anyone could'' she teased and glanced down by feeling his excitement pressing into her, causing her to giggle as she pressed herself more into him, not as smoothly as it would usually go due to her off balance before she waved to her regarded drink now. ''only put it down for a second, though this man came up and got pretty close while trying to order himself a drink but seemed.. to distracted to concentrate... I turned away to ignore him before I glanced back and he was suddenly gone..’’ she explained, Loki tensing as he tried piecing things together but had a rather good idea of what had gone down.

Reaching into her cleavage though, she pulled out a hotel key ‘’I did manage to snag this, my suspicions are usually never wrong so I figured SHIELD could do a later investigation if someone was trying to harm one of their employees- something they don’t take lightly’’ she laughed, knowing her organization would know what to do in situations like these.

Loki blinked as she pulled the key from her cleavage... now that... that was an excellent place to keep something. He couldn't focus on her cleavage though, because Y/N fumbled her balance. At least she seemed perhaps aware of what happened, yet thrown off to the seriousness of it. He didn't want her to tip her off that something was very wrong here when she was intoxicated like this. It would upset her too much and he was pretty sure she wouldn't be able to keep subtle, so he kept his voice smooth and face flirty and casual as he held his hand out for the key, "Darling, may I see that?’’

Y/N tilted her head a bit before giving him a teasing look ‘’why’s that? Thinking on getting a hotel room?’’

Loki couldn’t help but chuckle as she luckily handed him the key. "Just making sure, love." He assured, though her suggestion had sent his mind elsewhere, stoking the sense of need he'd been holding back, but he couldn't focus on that now with how her legs gave out on her again and the way she clutched at his shoulders. Y/N wasn't alright and that had him more worried than aroused.

"I've got you." He assured her, his grip around her waist sure and steady as he quickly swept her drink away, giving its contents a quick sniff to see if he could scent anything odd about it before placing it on the bar counter again. "Between you and me, Y/N, I truly don't think you'll be able to walk on your own. Let me assist you back to your chambers."

Y/N leaned a little from his touch, her cheeks suddenly red at his suggestion, especially an act around a crowd of people ‘’i-I’m fine- just need to take my time that’s all-‘’

Loki couldn’t help but chuckle as his hold on her remained firm where she couldn’t slip out ‘’don’t be so stubborn darling. Besides, we’ve done much worst things in public’’ his voice got a little husky as he eyed her by the mere joyous memories that flooded his brain between him and his girlfriend. Regardless, she’s always been a shy one no matter how much they did, but her innocence still remained cute in his eyes. And with that, He bent a bit, cradling a hand behind her knees and lifting her fully into his arms.

Y/N immediately placed her hand to help hold herself on his shoulder, even if they both knew she was as light as a feather. Still, regardless of how many times she had been close to her boyfriend.. and then some, shyness had its way of embedding itself in one regardless of repeated actions. ‘’n-no need babe- I’m feeling better already-‘’

He smirked at her words, trying to hold back a chuckle. She’d stumbled twice into him just moments ago, and she thought she could walk? "Your slurring says otherwise." he joked, noting her form tensing against him and under his fingers. He loved the feeling of her weight in his grasp, the curvature of her figure, the warmth she radiated into him. Y/N was decadent, even when she was intoxicated. "I'd rather you not risk you pretty little ankles wobbling in your heels." he searched down her eyes again, "Besides, is it truly so terrible to be in my arms?"

She merely bit her lip and shook her head ‘’..it never is.’’

‘’then relax.’’ He told her gently and carried her carefully out of the building, his eyes searching everywhere with his senses on high alert for whoever did this. That’s why he had asked for the key. True she was apart of SHIELD, but she was his girlfriend, the matter was more personal and thus, he wished to deal with this person himself.

It was in favor of himself that he had master driving before this event could happen because she was in no shape of getting herself back to the apartment herself. Carrying her in, she had grown more quiet by the time he closed the door and her hiccups subsided.

‘’darling, how are you feeling now?’’ he asked, setting her down carefully with a hand on her lower back to help keep her balanced while she rested a hand against the wall.

‘’dizzy, doesn’t feel like the usual hangover..’’

Loki refrained from telling her that it wasn’t her usual over intoxication result so she wouldn’t freak out and perhaps make anything worse for herself. Instead, he nodded and slipped the purse strap from over her shoulder and set it down on couch ‘’I think it’s best if you get some rest darling, let me help you’’ it wasn’t a question.

Leaning most of her weight on him, her eyes found it hard to keep open as he led her to the bedroom and had her sit down on the bed. In slow movements, he kept his eyes on her to monitor her consciousness and well being while his fingertips ran down her legs before gently removing her heels. Standing back up, he took her hands in his and leaned down to better look in her eyes to get her attention ‘’do you think you’ll be alright doing your bathroom routine love?’’ he asked gently, knowing her rituals had always been important to her, pretty much the only privacy she wanted in their relationship and was happy to oblige to make her happy.

‘’yes.. I’ll just go slow and keep my hands on the counter’’ she said as he helped her to her feet.

‘’lucky counters’’ he teased, earning a gentle smile on her lips before he helped her to the bathroom and closed the door behind her, keeping close encase she would need him.

After brushing her teeth, removing light makeup and the use of the facility, she turned the knob and Loki finished opening the door for her before he was at her side again to have her go over to the bed once more. ‘’alright darling, as much as I love to see you in this outfit, it’s best you slip into something more suitable to sleep in.’’ he explained gently, slow so she could understand while she recovered.

Stepping closer so his chest pressed against hers, his hands slipped behind her to latch onto her zipper in the back. His head dipped down to gently press slow kisses against her neck and shoulder while his fingers slowly pulled the zipper down all the way. His kisses only paused a moment to slip the shoulder straps down her arms before resuming while the dress dropped to the floor.

Forcing himself to stop, he took a breath as his cool hands gently cupped her breasts once, closing his eyes as he took a breath of pleasure, as did she before he gently had her sit back down. Retrieving her nightgown, her eyes looking up at him in a glassy yet loving gaze while she lifted her arms up and he slipped it over her head, arms through with the spaghetti straps and down her chest.

‘’’alright darling, one more time up and then you could rest’’ he whispered and she gently wrapped her arms around his neck with his arm going around her frame and helped her up.

Using his free hand, he leaned them back ever so slightly so he could pull the covers back for her before he leaned down and forward to guide her down again. Her arms lazily slipped from his neck before resting behind her to help carefully pull herself to the side and laid down while he followed with the covers pulling over herself.

‘’stay..’’ she whispered, knowing he had spent the night many before but she had a small hint of how serious this situation had been in the first place, and he knew too.

‘’I’m not going anywhere darling, I promise everything is going to be alright..’’ he whispered and joined the other side of the bed, using magic to remove his own outfit before sliding in next to her.

Turning her body to face him, she scooted closer to be in his awaiting arms and he placed a gentle kiss on her forehead before resting his chin on top of her head with her snuggled into his chest.

‘’goodnight my love..’’

#loki of asgard #loki fanfic #loki god of mischief #loki odinson #loki #loki smut #loki x reader smut #mcu loki #loki x reader #loki imagine #loki laufeyson #loki marvel

[hauntedmilkshakeghost]

Wait For It

Pairing: Victor Tan x Reader

Summary: What was supposed to be a romantic date night turns into a night alone and eventually a night full of new friends

Warnings: Ruined plans, romantic gestures, meeting people for the first time, talking of alcohol

Notes: another distraction sleepover request from a lovely anon! I love my boy Victor Tan so much 😩

“God this meal looks amazing.” Victor grins as he wraps around you from behind, hands resting on your hips and his chin on your shoulder.

“Thank you, made it especially for you.” You smile as you kiss his cheek, “Shall we dig in?”

Victor opens his mouth to respond to you but his phone immediately starts vibrating in his pocket. He fishes it out and sighs as he looks up at you and shakes his head, “It’s Hondo....I’m sorry.”

You smile sadly and caress his arm, “It’s ok, go take it.”

You know that it has to be that he’s being called back into work but you let a small part of you hopes that he’ll be able to spend just a little time with you, eat just a little bit of your food. You hate the idea of him going back into work without a proper meal. 

The calls lasts about 3 minutes and it’s the longest 3 minutes of you life. You push your veggies around the plate and stare at the wall until Victor walks back into the kitchen.

“I’m sorry.....” Victor whispers, hand falling on your shoulder.

“Don’t be, it’s your job. I just feel bad that you’re going hungry....do you have time for me to wrap some up for you?” You ask, looking up at him with pleading eyes.

Victor looks at the time on his phone and nods, “I gotta get changed so if it’s packed before I’m done we should be golden.”

He pecks you on the lips and you both quickly burst into action. Victor sprints for the bedroom as you quickly open the cabinets and find a tubberware container big enough for his portion of the meal. 

He bounds down the stairs just as you’re placing the lid on top of the container and he grins as he kisses you, “So lucky to have you.”

You place the container in his hands and kiss him back, “So lucky to have you. Please stay safe tonight.”

He rubs your back as he hugs you, “I will do my very best, I’ll text you when things are looking good.”

You nod and follow him like a lost puppy to the door, “And please find time to eat that, I worry about you.”

He grins and squeezes your hand before he starts walking backwards towards the car, “I’ll make sure, don’t worry.”

You stand in the doorway as he pulls out the the driveway and you don’t turn back inside until his car is out of you sight. You sigh as you walk back inside, locking the doors and sitting back down at the dining room table. You wish that you had met any of his work friends, had any of their numbers, you want to make sure he eats because you know how he gets when he starts working. 

You stare at your phone for a few minutes before finally digging into your food. You’ve really lost your apatite but you’d be a hypocrite if you didn’t try and eat something.

It’s nearly 12 am when you finally get a text from Victor asking you to meet him at a bar a couple blocks from your shared house. You haven’t been sleepy so you quickly get yourself ready and head out. When you pull up in front of the bar you see Victor as well as a bunch of other people who you can only guess are his teammates. 

“Y/n! What....what are you doing here?” Victor looks confused as you walk up to him but he kisses your cheek regardless.

“What am I doing here? You texted me to meet you here?” You look at him confused but you noticed two of his teammates high-five behind him.

You both turn and look at them and Victor sighs, “Something to say? Chris? Street?”

Chris grins and runs a hand through her hair, “Well you’ve been hiding her from us so Street stole your phone and I texted her to meet us here.”

Victor shakes his head but kisses your temple, “Lesson learned I guess….guys this is y/n, y/n this is Street and Chris, Hondo, Deacon, and Luca. Now I need some drinks.”

“I’ll buy the first round.” You giggle, fishing your wallet out of your back and everyone cheers.

“Oh I like her.” Hondo claps you on the back, “Makes you food and buys the drinks.”

“Oh so he did eat! Good, he never eats unless you babysit him.” You hum.

“Oh he ate, went on and on about how he had to eat or else you’d be sad and he couldn’t have you sad.” Luca teases and you watch as Victor blushes. You rush to his side and kiss his cheek, “Awww, my handsome hero.”

He brushes you off and you giggle as you hang on him and grin like an idiot. It may not have been the most romantic evening like you had originally planned but it was certainly a good one.

#distraction sleepover #Victor tan #Victor tan fluff #Victor tan x reader #swat

[mlmvoreconfessionals]

what if grillby and swatch got into a bit of a fight over how to manage their establishments? how do you think that would end..

Well, there are so many possibilities...

"I'm glad we could come to an agreement," S.watch says pleasantly as he readjusts his tie. The air of refinement he normally has is offset by the heavy gut that's spilling out of his suit, sloshing and wobbling as someone kicks around inside. "If you were able to be proper about this, I'm sure we wouldn't have had to get so drastic," S.watch carries on, straightening out his suit, "but I do love an opportunity to prove my point. I'm sure we could have worked together a bit closer to fix up your bar but--" There's a sharp kick that makes his gut bulge, followed by a deep rumble, and then a very thick OOOUURRRRRRP! that sends a few small flames and a pair of spectacles flying out of S.watch's beak. He blushes softly and pushes a hand down onto his stomach, making his prey stop moving for a moment. "Now G.rillby, that was very impolite. Though I suppose behavior like that is commonplace at your establishment, I'd prefer it if you kept it out of mine. Have a little dignity, at least..." He pulls his hand away, making his stomach slosh wetly as it's allowed back to its normal size. S.watch is at least thankful the day is somewhat slow, allowing him to sit behind his counter while his stomach churns over the bar owner. He had hoped they could come to a better agreement than this, but G.rillby was insistent on keeping the grease trap of a bar as it was. S.watch simply couldn't let that stand. He's sure it'll look much nicer once his S.watchlings are done cleaning it up. He would have liked to surprise G.rillby with it, but by the time the deed is done, there won't be much of him left to appreciate it. Oh well. he's been thinking about a second opening for the C.olor Cafe anyway. He may as well take on the acquisition since the previous owner won't be needing the space anymore. While he's thinking about his future plans, G.illby is finally going limp in S.watch's stomach. The gurgling tank is almost effortlessly overpowering him, and before long, all of his magic is reducing down into an orange soup that will pump away into some extra heft of the butler's body. Nothing some adjustments to his suit can't handle, of course. He rubs over his stomach slowly, feeling his hand sink in as it steadily grows smaller. "Mm...yes, I believe we're on the exact same page now, G.rillby. It was a pleasure to do business with you."

With him standing behind his bar, one wouldn't be able to tell anything was different about G.rillby. Sure, the wet groaning sounds and muffled shouts were a bit odd, but the ever-stoic bartender didn't let show any acknowledgment of it as he cleans off a glass. Just below the bar, though, is his stomach, the fiery magic bloated out as someone struggles inside, muffled shouts just barely audible over the intense churning of the organ. G.rillby had his vest and shirt buttoned up just down to where his stomach swells out, only because some of the buttons down there and popped off from his sudden meal. He'd been enjoying the company of his competitor, S.watch, for some time. But eventually, the head butler started to get too insistent about new ideas for G.rillby's bar. It came to ahead when he said he'd send some of his S.watchlings by to give it a makeover, and G.rillby had decided he had enough. Getting the butler from behind and pulling him over the bar counter, he'd been able to devour the other monster rather easily. Now he's just a squirming bulge in G.rillby's stomach, and even that won't last for long. The fire elemental's gut always worked fast, the immense heat helping him to process even very lively prey with little trouble. In fact...G.rillby's pauses as he feels S.watch thrash around wildly and his gut bubbles with intensity. Then...it stops, and there's a thick slosh as everything goes still. S.watch's body suddenly going slack does work out a stealing belch, sending a pair of glasses flying out and bouncing off his counter. He'll have to collect those once he's better suited for bending down. He sets the glasses he was cleaning down to rub over his stomach, feeling it growing rapidly softer against his hand and even starting to shrink back. S.watch won't be around much longer now, and though he's sure he'll have a bit of a pot belly to show for it, there won't be much of the butler left regardless. Those S.watchlings of his will certainly come sniffing around when their boss doesn't return, though. Well...G.rillby knows how to take care of nosy visitors. After all, S.watch is an excellent example of what he'll do when someone overstays their welcome. He won't mind a few bigger meals anyway.

#v.ore #male vore #m/m vore #mlm vore #gay vore #vore prompts #male vore prompts #digestion #fatal vore #weight gain #undertalevore #deltarunevore #grillbyvore #swatchvore #ask

[rosastra]

GUILT

A vashmeryl fanfic, how two broken person might just be each other’s salvation.

Author’s notes : hiii, this is my very very FIRST fanfic ever! Please excuse my baby writing, I hope you’ll be able to enjoy my silly little scenarios 💙

Context : The story takes place two years after July’s incident (stampede lore). After Roberto’s death, Meryl and his niece, Milly, who is now her subordinate, found Vash and Wolfwood again. Thus began their group travel across noman’s land.

Note : Fluff this chapter, will be smut in the next one! Also some angst I guess? Not proofread bc I’m too impatient 🙌🏼

CHAPTER 1 :

“To those I couldn’t protect”

When they set foot inside the tiny inn, the smell of alcohol and freshly cooked food submerged them. The bar was full, people were eating, laughing and probably telling each other all about their adventures on the desertic planet.

It felt great. Finally seeing an ounce of what humanity is supposed to look like. These small moments of rest, which managed to lighten the memories of blood and fear, were cherished by the group.

Milly and wolfwood decided to register the rooms for the night, while Vash and Meryl desperately looked for a free table to relieve their hunger and dire need of a beer. It’s Vash that managed to find one first, used to move swiftly and rapidly around people to snatch the first spot that cleared up. So Meryl went to the bar to take all the orders.

By the time she came back, Milly and Wolfwood were back, already chatting with the blond man. As soon as she sat down again, Vash got some playing cards out of his bag to entertain the group while waiting for the food to arrive.

As time went on, the food was already downed, noting it really didn’t take long considering their level of starvation, and most of them were already on their third beer of the night. As usual, Vash and Wolfwood are the loudest, bickering about who won that last round or betting who will win the next. Milly, who already had way too much to drink for her small tolerance, puts oil to the fire like usual while Meryl gave up the idea of calming them long ago. Even though this scene might seem chaotic on the outside, it was that kind of night that the group wouldn’t trade for anything.

Seeing the smiles of her friends, Meryl feels both pure joy and sadness. She can’t help but feel the dreadful feeling of guilt, gripping at her back like a vulture would at the corpse of its long decayed prey. That is how she felt, at least, consumed from the inside, slowly and painfully.

He could have been here. Had she learned how to use a weapon before, how to defend herself earlier, maybe then, her mentor would still be at this table, judging the group like the old alcoholic man he was. But she knew that deep down he would have enjoyed it too.

While her face tries its best to hide her inner turmoil, a certain pair of eyes behind orange tinted glasses catches that slight change in the mood of the small reporter. But he doesn’t say anything. While he’s not sure what the issue is, that expression she has, he feels like he knows it far too well. What he does instead is to try and snap her out of her phase by pinching her between her eyes.

“Your turn to play, meryl. Or have you given up on first place already?”

She mimics a giggle. “Hah, never.”

———————

Wolfwood won, again. Even though him and the blond gunsman keep arguing about getting revenge, the state of Milly, barely able to form a proper sentence anymore, rings the bell of this evening’s end. After waving the others goodnight and bringing her subordinate back to her room, Meryl doesn’t feel quite ready to sleep yet. She felt exhausted, yes, but it was like that sweet taste of rest wasn’t allowed to her.

She keeps fidgeting under her blankets, staring at the ceiling. The horror of July’s incident keep on flashing before her eyes. Giving up on sleeping for now, the short girl opens the window, hoping the fresh air of the night will soothe her. Her skylight window stood on the highest part of the roof, making it easy for people to go out and sit on top of the inn for some stargazing. As she opens it, she notices a bright red cloth swinging lightly to the desert’s night wind, hiding partially the view of the stars.

Looking up, she sees Vash, sitting a bit higher, heads up and seemingly lost in thoughts.

She struggles a bit to climb out the window, but manages to land shakily on her two feet. The blond, as sharp as always, notices her right away.

‘’Ah, Meryl. I didn’t realize that was your room. Sorry, did I wake you up?’’ He says, giving her his signature soft and calming smile.

She shakes her head. ‘’ Not at all, I was still awake. Just thought a red curtain isn’t usually what I expect to see when looking out the window.’’

He giggles at her comment and taps down next to him, inviting her to sit beside him. ‘’Haha, sorry about that. Never remember how long that coat is.’’

‘’Shut it, I’m sure you sat there on purpose.’’

He probably did. And that thought made her smile. She knew he somehow never failed to notice when she was going through some internal turmoil. He always tried to cheer her up with small gestures, or by giving her a comforting but silent presence.

It was both incredible and stupid. How such simple gestures, coming from a specific person, could already lighten her mood and make her feel like her vultures are now trapped behind that person’s protective aura.

So she sits beside him, now also glancing up at the sky.

‘’Can’t sleep?’’ Vash asks, not looking at her.

‘’Can’t sleep.’’

‘’Do you want to talk about it?’’ He sounded really insecure formulating his question.

Now that surprised her. Yes he found ways to comfort her in some ways or another, but he never asked her directly, too scared to overstep maybe. ‘’About what?’’

‘’Ah, well, you looked like you were kind of out of it these days. You often seems to drift into your own world.’’ He seems like he instantly regrets asking.

‘’ I mean it would be bad if you spaced out while driving, we already had so many acciden— OW!’’ He’s interrupted by her fingers instantly pinching his ear.

‘’No comments on my driving skills.’’ Meryl pouts.

A bright laugh emanates from him, one that makes the world sound like a damn heaven. The reporter feels a light shade of red invading her plump cheeks, and a small smile breaks her pouty expression.

A comfortable silence sets itself between the two and the night sky. All you can hear are small gushes of wind and far away laughter from the last people getting out of the city’s bars. Sitting beside each other like this, enjoying the most simple of things, that might just be enough to her. She daydreams again, but this time about a long life, simple but always together. But when her fantasies of daily life happiness alongside the group crosses her mind, it strikes her again. The guilt.

She feels her throat closing in on itself, her heart banging rapidly against her ribcage but this time not from silly feelings towards her tall friend. Suddenly it’s hard for her to breathe and the memories flash once again. She sees Roberto, lying on the ground, head on her lap as he gives her his empty derringer. He can’t utter anything distinguishable enough for her to understand, his words are muffled by blood choking sounds. Her hand is pressed firmly where the reason of his pain is situated on his throat, covering her in amounts of blood she had never seen before.

He was telling her something. While handing that gun, he was telling her something! But she couldn’t understand it! Was he blaming her? Cursing her? Telling her to pick that damn gun and finally decide to defend herself. Maybe if she had done so earlier, he wouldn’t have had to take that hit instead of her. He would still be alive, drinking to his heart’s content, enjoying his cigarettes and writing simple articles that satisfied him plenty.

Her ears start ringing, her sight gets blurry while her eyes gets filled with tears and— she feels warmth. An incredibly comforting and soft warmth. If she could she would sink even deeper in it, until it was all she could feel.

Her eyes allow her to see the dark blue sky again, and she realizes that Vash had wrapped his arms around her, his head pressing on top of hers. He had stayed silent that whole time, giving her the time to come back around at her own pace. It felt like an eternity in her head, but when did he move that close to her? That means her saw her cry right? How embarrassing.

‘’Vash’’

He slighty flinch when her voice finally greets his ear again. It really must have been a while then.

‘’Meryl…’’ he’s interrupted by her arms encircling him tightly this time.

She’s embarrassed to have been seen in such a fragile state, but she’s so tired. Since her mentor’s death, she didn’t have the occasion to speak about her feelings with anyone, not wanting to burden Milly with the mention of her uncle’s death, or Vash, who probably had other things to worry about. Besides, telling him about her guilt felt like whining about insignificant matters when she knew how bad he felt for everything that happened these past 150 years. At the end of the day, she wanted to be there for him, she followed him exactly for that. He didn’t have to reciprocate her feelings or to bother about her struggles. As long as she could see his genuine smile, she was content.

But tonight, the pain is too big, too deep. And so she abandons herself to his, oh so warm embrace.

‘’I’m sorry, I… I just need a moment…’’

‘’Take as long as you need, Meryl.’’

Still resting his head on top of hers, Vash feels frustrated. He never wanted to see her in that state. Her soft smile and her joyful and sparky way of putting him back in his place when needed, were some of the rare things that kept him alive. He’s even mad at himself, if he could just have the courage to talk to her about it, to be her listening ear, someone she could confide in! He felt like he had no right to be the one to give her advice. After all, he had been the reason for the pain of so many before. But that look of despair he just saw on her face minutes ago does it. He can’t bear to remain a coward and leave her alone in this anymore. So he talks.

‘’I want to be there for you.’’

He surprises her once again.

‘’No matter what it is. No matter what you do. I want to listen and be there for you. Like you have for me.’’

It takes everything in her to not burst into desperate cries right here and there. And it takes even more to finally open her heart to him.

She weakly opens her mouth.

‘’Ever since July— no, ever since Jeneora Rock, the guilt has never left me. I don’t know how to live with myself, knowing my weakness and cowardice is the reason people have been hurt and even died.’’

She takes a deep breath.

‘’ After Jeneora Rock, I was sure I was going to change! I was going to make a difference and finally face the danger head on instead of running away!

But I was too pretentious, too stupid. Roberto died, and it’s all my fault. After dragging him along all of this, I should have at least been able to protect him, to save him! I should have… I should—!’’ The tears start falling down again making it hard to voice her thoughts, overwhelming her.

‘’My weakness, no matter what I do, it won’t change.. Roberto should have been the one to survive that day, not m—‘’ She’s immediately stopped, stunned by Vash who suddenly broke the hug to tightly place her face between his hands. He’s now looking at her intently, eye to eye level, his face a bit too close for her already racing heart.

She attempts to say his name. ‘’Don’t ever say that again.’’

How could he have not realized? Of course she would feel guilty about the things that happened, she cared so deeply for her friends, it should have been evident that those evenings would have gotten to her. Hell, he knew that feeling far too well himself. Yet his cowardice left her alone to deal with it.

He was so angry. At himself, at her as well, they had known each other for so long now, how could she talk like that about herself when she was the one who brought him so much joy in his life.

‘’Meryl, you’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever met. It doesn’t matter if you don’t have enormous physical strength or flashy fighting skills. You manage to find hope in the most desperate moments, you never give up on what is dear to you.’’

She looks at him intensely, the tears have calmed down, letting place for a deep blush on her cheeks once again.

‘’Your ability to shine through every hardship, that is your strength Meryl. You motivate the people around you to be better, to do better!’’

‘’I’m sure that’s what Roberto thought too. After all, he was quite the grumpy man that saw everything in black and white when I first met you two. But after some time, I saw him soften up around you. That’s your power Meryl.’’

The small reporter giggles weakly. ‘’Haha, I guess it’s true that he was a bit less insufferable after some time…’’

She continues: ‘’But I’m sure he’s cursing me from heaven right now, that after all this time, I still can’t do much.’’

‘’That’s not true! You’ve done so much! You wrote an amazing article, trained an amazing new recruit, you’ve learned to shoot a gun, you found me again despite all my effort—‘’

‘’Say what now’’ here goes the pout again.

‘’Alright, sorry, sorry… but in the end, I’m glad you did. Maybe you don’t realize but you already give me so much everyday.’’ He utters, his voice going down in volume.

‘’Such as?’’ Meryl looks almost amused now, her eyes still puffy and her cheeks now dry.

‘’Well, first of all, you give me concussions from all those bumps from the card rides—‘’ He stops when her face contorts in a way that tells him he’ll die if he says one more word.

‘’Okay, okay’’ He laughs sincerely.

‘’You give me… hope…’’ His gaze softens at that. Not quite able to look directly into her eyes anymore.

‘’You give me joy.’’ Her face gets seriously red again.

‘’You give me a reason to keep fighting.’’

‘’Peacefully, of course?’’ She retorts, trying to hide her embarrassment. She mustn’t hope for anything, he’s just being nice to her.

‘’Always.’’ He looks at her again.

Now that he’s calmed down, vash realizes how close they actually are, and he attempts to remove his hands from her face. But she grabs them before he can. She’s not ready to lose his warmth just yet. So she holds him there, her hands on his.

Silence sets again, but something is different. Something is building up inside of them. Vash feels like his heart's gonna explode, he had had dreams where he got to be closer to her, but he never felt like he actually deserved it.

The silence feels extremely heavy, only the light wind can be heard now. Unconsciously, their face gets closer, their forehead now stuck against each other. It’s like their emotions are decoupled. They can feel everything, every movement, every heartbeat. Their hands almost merging together. Meryl can feel Vash’s breath against her face, ‘’smells like mint and beer’’ she thinks. His gaze drives down now.

And slowly, after what felt like a thousand years, the soft feeling of his lips invades her own.

The kiss is tender, and long, the both of them not quite able to separate. But when they do, it takes only a second for them to crash their lips against each other once again. Each new kiss, deeper than the previous one, brings more proximity than they both have ever felt. Meryl almost thought she saw a faint light of blue illuminating the man’s face but she brushes it off her mind, too eager to close the gap between them again.

When they painfully split from their embrace, their eyes stay locked, a shy excitement visible on each face. Their foreheads join again, they’re now laughing. It’s that kind of laugh you never thought you could hear from two broken people on a desert planet, but also the one they wish to never stop.

‘’Now we’ve done it huh.’’ Meryl says, closing her eyes, blotting herself against the tall blond.

‘’I never thought that day would come.’’ Vash is sincere. He actually still doesn’t understand how he could deserve to be blessed by such an amazing person. But for now, that thought is brushed away by meryl looking up at him once again.

‘’Will you stay with me tonight?’’

#trigun #trigun stampede #vash my beloved #vash the stampede #trimax #meryl stryfe #vashmeryl #vash x meryl #smut #vashmeryl smut #🍋 #first fanfic #meryl #trigun wolfwood #millywood #milly thompson #how do you even tag #how do i do this #how do tags work #trigun brainrot #angst

[eternivex]

Uhhh not gonna bother with formal intros for this BFBDBSBS I just wanted to write something after. Months. SoD2 group stuff lol

No one really wanted to wake up in the apocalypse, even years into it. However, just staying in bed and sleeping in wasn't an option, everyone needed to pull their weight and get things done. Whether that be around the base, out in town, or just managing communications with other groups of survivors. There was always something to do, and when there wasn't? You found something. That was just how it was.

And if it weren't for the god awful taste in his mouth, and the overwhelming feeling of being a lazy bastard as he heard everyone just outside, Sev would've never gotten up. Figuring it was either doing it by his own choice, or getting dragged out of bed by an annoyed Mac, Sev decided the first option was the far better one.

The old floor creaked underneath his weight as he shifted out of bed, rolling over the still warm spot of where Miles had been laying just an hour before. He'd tried to convince him to stay there, but he was a little more responsible, saying he needed to get a "jump on the day." It was fair, but that didn't mean Sev couldn't still whine a bit when he left.

Sunlight had begun to creep in through the tinted windows of the packed bunker, and Sev found himself raising a hand to cover his eyes as he shuffled over to where he'd lazily thrown his day clothes the night before. His free hand lazily reached forward and grasped around the chair, before taking a fistful of fiber, courtesy of his coat. He leaned back, opening his eyes a little wider to get a proper look.

Sev was quick to dress himself, buttoning up his coat and buckling his belt before walking out, his shoes thumping against the wood before halting at the door. He stood there for a moment, his hand already on the doorknob. Day by day, minute by minute, that's what everyone always said when someone didn't feel like doing... Life. It was fair, no one was berated for it. Living in an apocalyptic world, which had been transformed into a husk of itself, it wasn't easy. Some days were tiring, some days made people want to let themselves get their throats ripped out by ferals, but some days were good.

With a deep breath, Sev opened the door, stepping out into the world once more. His hues scanned the surrounding base, quickly getting an idea for what the others were doing.

At the garden, Warburton sat on his knees, his green thumb only growing dark with dirt as he planted the next box of seeds. For a gruff sniper who'd likely taken more lives than anyone else there, he was a pretty peaceful guy. Although, Sev supposed that no one could just always be what they were best at.

Just ahead of the garden, the workshop stood proudly, with Denis and Quique inside. Although Sev couldn't quite make out what Denis was saying, he seemed to be rambling about some kind of creation with how his hands travelled through the air. Plus, the smile that had broken across his face as he did so. Quique leaned back against the bench, fiddling with a wrench in his hands as he nodded intently with each sentence.

Moving his gaze to the barred windows of the house, Sev could see Mac through it, wrapping bandages from the clinic around his bloody knuckles. Likely broken, if he had to take a wild guess. A part of him wondered what Mac had done this time to earn the wound, but chalking it up to punching a zombie on instinct would likely be the right choice.

Finally, he looked down next to the garden, the field hospital. Rose and Keg stood together, carefully managing plague samples into strainers. Having cures for the blood plague stocked up was never a bad idea, and Roses knowledge of creating them from her time in Red Talon had left her with the skills necessary to help the group with it. Keg had shown a particular interest in how the plague worked in general as of late, so utilizing the plague samples from the dead zeds gave her something to do.

Moving his legs, Sev began to walk over to the communications center, giving a small wave to Warburton along the way as his head turned upon hearing the footsteps behind him.

He was quick to move up the ladder to the small tower, hands gripping the recently fixed up wooden bars to hold himself as he scaled it. Once reaching the top, he was quick to grab onto the headset that laid on the table, along with the small radio which it was attached to. Sev put the headset on, and quickly changed the frequency. He'd memorized the exact one he'd needed, it was a daily ritual by now.

Sev pulled back a chair from the side, and sat down, leaning into the microphone as he pressed down on the button to speak through. "You still kickin' out there, cielo?" He purred out with a grin, listening intently for the voice he knew would be responding quickly. A few seconds went by, before static crackled from the other end.

"You're awake. Morning."

He could practically see the smile Miles had in his head, the same one he'd heard about from Keg whenever she went out with him for scavenging runs. The one she always described him speaking with whenever they talked over the radio, the one he couldn't get out of his goddamn mind. Clearing his throat, Sev spoke once more. "Got tired of layin' around, here I am... What're you doin' out there this time?"

Each talk like this soothed Sevs mind, although he wouldn't say it, there was always a fear of something happening when the guy went out. He didn't know that fear went both ways, sure, but still.

"Well, Charlie spotted a car out when he made a trip up to our power station, in working condition. Can you believe that?" Miles laughed softly, "So, I'm headin' back there with him to grab it and drive it back. Too far to just walk there safely, y'know? ..say hi, Charlie." It went quiet, for a moment. Sev could hear the radio shifting over. "Hey, Sev!" Then, it shifted back. "He says hi."

"I heard." Sev couldn't help but snicker at that, before speaking. "When do you think you'll be back?" He asked, pressing his elbows against the table. "Ehh... 30... 45 minutes, maybe? Might check around the area, see if there's anything useful. I'll let you know."

He nodded, although Miles obviously couldn't see that. "Alright, well, don't die on me out there. Same goes for Charlie." Sev sighed, looking out from the tower to the base around. "You know I'll be safe... We'll talk when I get back, okay?" Miles spoke gently, "Love you."

"Love you too, see you when you're back, doll."

And then, silence. Sev pulled the headset off and set it back down, before standing up. His morning routine was pretty much done right then and there, now he actually had to get on with his day and get something done. So, he went back to the ladder and made his way back down.

There was always something to do, he just had to find it.

#deans writing

[aks-of-the-weak]

Incipit: I'm sick. Not actually sick, not covid sick, just the little kind of sick where the nose runs a bit and the throat is a bit sore and the brain heats a bit too much to be doing arcane mathematics for Godot shaders. so here i come instead. Writing Homestuck OCs. My beloved.

Aquassa, Sign of the Stylist: This one's pretty abstract looking.

Constellation: Turns out a Stylist is a pretty vague job, right? Most commonly it's a hairdresser, but anyone who arranges things to be stylish is a stylist. Let's start by going down the Hair path. Hair has some association with magic in popular culture, but i'm not so sure what it is or where it comes from. Aquacin, the Knotted Wand was alledgedly a "mystical" constellation as well, so maybe a magic theme can be a unifying trait amongst Violet constellations. Ok, future Aks here. I didn't find shit. Mostly it's vague witchcraft shenanigans about connecting a non-descript spell with yourself. There's always the myth of Samson, but i'm not a big fan of the Bible.

Hmmm. Let's take this from another perspective. I know i want this troll to be a parallel to Maipur because of their opposing aspects, sways and hemospectral status. Maipur is a Landscaper, at least in name, and by the "anyone who makes things stylish" definition a Landscaper is a kind of stylist. If the metaphor of Artist's constellation was "Skill honed through trained repetition", then Aquassa should be a denial of that. Not "Skill from inborn talent", that's too boring. Maybe Holisticism? "Things will always end up fitting together by themselves". Characterizing a character by "Skill honed through trained repetition" means characterizing them not just by "trained repetition", but before that by their need to be skilled in the first place. So the opposite of that is a character characterized by not needing to be skilled. But i'm not diving into the character yet. Constellation, constellation! While i was spitballing about hair i had the idea of a "hair-cutting constellation". The circle on the right would be the head, the bar on the left the cut-off hair and the bar separating the two would be the scissors.  But with the new thematic this doesn't really work anymore. So, what object is Holistic? What object will function by itself? After some thinking i've settled on a Fruit Tree. A Fruit Tree is a lot more independent than a crop, i think. You don't have to replant it after every harvest and they're more resilient to changes of weather and temperatures. Official constellations don't have any plants, so some might say a fruit tree isn't appropriate for a constellation, but to me that just means it's new grounds to explore.

Physicality: First thing, as a carry-over from the Hair-based brainstorming this troll will have long straight hair. Genuinely long, going down to his ankles. And mimicking that hair, his horns are also long, thin and pointy, starting from his forehead, curving over the top of his head and ending up behind his nape, meaning if he tries to look upwards he risks stabbing himself in the neck. He's supposed to be a parallel to Maipur, so an Idea would be his strifekind would be a mundane object like how Maipur fights with a Paintbrush. Scissors is the obvious answer, but i'm trying to move away from the hair thematic, so i'll go with Shears instead. Clothing-wise, he's a proper noble in fancy clothing. He wears a long cape on his back colored dark-violet on the inside which gives him a sort of Dracula-type look. As for Psionic powers... 

Lore: « Throughout history it has been the common understanding that sea dwellers  cannot manifest psionic abilities. From this assumption, many theses have sprouted throughout academic circles. Sometimes, the naturally strong and psychically resistant constitutions of violetbloods hinder the mitosis of echocerebral cells during the larval and prelarval stages of development. Sometimes it's the process of anti-senescent regeneration which consumes psioactive agents in the blood. These are interesting theories worthy of a profound examination, but in this text, i would like to linger upon the possibility that the assumption itself is flawed. If, hypothetically, violetbloods could manifest psionic phenomenons, what sort of properties could we observe in them? Well, for one, by looking at the concentration of vascular molybdenum [...]

In conclusion, if Violet Psionic Manifestations were possible, they would be on the extremely trained end of the spectrum, further even than Chucklevoodoo and Catharametry. Perhaps completely opposite from Indigo's wholly innate "Mutations". They would have to be Fast in activation, almost as much as Burgundy Psionics, but also Short-reached in effect, somewhere just below Teal Manifestations. Most importantly, we must not forget the Sociological aspect of it. If it is a power that has remained undocumented, it is likely that it is one that can be fully or greatly utilized while remaining undetected. » - George Wiccus, 956, Encyclopedic Catalogue of Psionic Manifestations in Trollkind and Related Faunas, Volume 6, p.4-13, Never published.

Short Story:

You stand before a large orchard. Behind you is an ornate gate of black metal. Forward, on the other side of the orchard, looms a dark, dark mansion. So dark it could disappear with just the gloom of the dusk. As soon as you passed through the gate, this one Sea Dweller came out of the mansion and started walking towards you. You thought you'd wait around, you know how much these jackasses care about manners and whatnot, but the little shit sure is taking his sweet time. You've been here about 15 minutes and he's barely gotten closer. You're pretty sure he stopped to prune one of his trees at some point. So, what the hell, you lean back against a tree and take out your machete. He sends you a death glare like he thinks you're gonna start hacking at his trees or something. If bitch had objections, bitch shouldn't have been 300 meters away. The base of the blade is made of flint, so you knock a piece of steel on it and use the spark to light your cigarette. That's all you need it for, man. You put it back and he mellows out. Good to know you exist, at least.

Another 30 minutes pass where you're just chillin. You've been hopping planet to planet throughout the outskirts of the empire trying all the different cigarettes you could get your mitts on, and you gotta say, these ones are preeetty good. The way the smoke kinda grips at your throat, then lets go, like scratching an itch your hands could never reach. What was it, Xoribon-, Xorabok-, Xoripokics? You can't read the shit that's on the box. Anyways, Solid A-Tier to whatever it's name was. Not quite on the level of the Artisanal Cadaczan Ballots in S-tier, now there's the ultimate form of tobacco. As for Troll Cigs, of course, most of them belong in the F tier. They take a larva, dig a hole in it, stuff it with random chemical products and call it a day. They don't even wrap it or anything, pretty sure one of them you tried had plastic glitter in it. Absolute disgrace. The olives got some good shit, but half the time it's laced with some crazy bullshit that'll send you to death's door. That's how it is with your species, they've got no vision, no artistry, and when they ever do it's a shallow attempt at upping numbers on a—

"I trust you are Maipur Lenote."

You turn your head towards towards the haughty aristocrat who finally finished his mosey. What, is this bitch being impatient now?

"That's me"

"Your earlier taunt was in quite bad taste. Do not do it again."

You pull out the machete and turn the flat of the blade towards him so that he can clearly see where the metal turns to rock.

"It was no taunt, sir. This is all i've got on me to light a cig. I don't carry lighters, y'see, makes it too easy for some psions out there."

Lies. You doubt he'll buy it, but set a trap and you might catch a prey, set a hundred and you surely will. The aristocrat frowns.

"Irrelevant. Walk with me."

Damn, this guy's bossy. You put out your cigarette on your fireproof jacket and stuff it in your pocket. You might be a killer, but you're no litterer. The violetblood begins to walk and you follow.

"I've heard formidable stories about you. Taking on entire groups at once, taking on highbloods, taking on powerful psions and weaponmasters alike."

They always start with that. You don't know why they think you'd be flattered to hear that. You don't know why they think you're proud of killing hundreds.

"I've also heard you're an aficionado of the arts, a master of painting, gardening, scenic landscaping. Remarkable."

Ok, well, now you're blushing a little. He gestures to the fruit trees all around.

"As you see, I am something of botanist myself. My collection collection contains specimens from all over the galaxy, and beyond. I hear this one is even from another universe altogether."

He stops and points to a tree filled with red berries.

"I do know the claim sounds far fetched, but i do not believe it is not unfounded as i obtained the saplings from one man of great wisdom and class. Not the kind to spout petty lies. Have you met him, perchance?"

Bro bought some random tree marked up from a scammer in fancy clothes. You swear, violets are so easy to trick. You just shrug as an answer and he seems content with it.

He reaches his arm into his long cape and draws out a pair of pruning shears. A classic trick, hiding one's hands to pretend you're getting an item from physical storage when really you're just pulling it out of your strife deck or sylladex. If anything it gives you more information than he gains. Bad move, bitch. He uses the shears to prune a branch filled with berries and hands it to you.

"It's unfortunate, had you arrived half a season earlier you could've seen it in its flowering state. It blooms with bright pink petals that fall with the sway of the winds. Quite the regal sight. Care for a sample?"

Bitch. You just like calling this guy a bitch.  In your mind. He has a really callable-a-bitch face. But anyways, you accept and captachalogue the branch. Then you reply:

"To be honest, i didn't think you called me here to talk about this type of work."

"Ah, yes. I suppose it is for 'work' that i have let you enter the premises. So tragic how rarely 'work' aligns with 'interest'."

You both resume walking. You thought he was going to continue with something, but he just keeps walking in silence and looking at his trees. Now piping back in is awkward, but you do it anyway.

"You want me to kill someone."

"Hmm, no, not exactly. There is a group. More a ragtag posse of societal rejects than any sort of real organization. Their leader stole one of my ships and now they are traversing the cosmos, tracking an item we wish to have for ourselves. For my part i wish nothing more than to see him charred husk on the floor, but..."

He hesitates.

"My moirail, you see, used to be matesprit with him. And well, with all the pale affection i have for her in my collapsing and expanding bladder based aquatic vascular system, objectively speaking, she is... Shall we say...

Batshit fucking insane, on her better days. She would have his legs cut off at the knee and nailed to the ground, the lids of his eyes surgically removed so that he may never avert his gaze, and then all of his good friends slowly killed off in front of him while he begs with the regret of having ever 'betrayed' her. Or so she says."

You really wish you could take or dismiss jobs based on morality sometimes, but that's not a luxury that's often affordable when one is in the business of contract killings. You've got a lot of people on your tail, especially right now, and if you want to live another sweep you're going to need the cash and means this guy is willing to part with.

"Well, i'm not asking you to go so far. Just making sure most of them die will be enough. Personally, i'm interested in however much closer you can bring us to the aforementioned item. Find us even an inch of information and you shall have rewards beyond value"

Fancy nobles and their metaphorical ramblings. What could he possibly have to give better than Money. You keep walking towards the mansion in silence. You'd like to think the years have toughened you, molded you into this hard-boiled lethal mercenary that knows no pity and no remorse and yaddi yaddi yadda, but the truth is it still sticks to you. The screams of agony, of visceral hate, even from people who would laugh doing the same. You hate things that stick to you. Sometimes you wish a great wave of death would swoop away through the galaxy and wash away every troll and their starships clinging to the void of space and let them crash down on the sun and planets all around. And only you would be left. Civilizations of the entire universe would cheer and start anew. They'd make art and products more beautiful and pleasant than your entire species has even tried to produce in the thousands of years of its slaughterous existence. And you'd be left jumping from planet to planet, seeing it all, trying as much as you can with the time in this world that is actually yours to u—

"May i ask a question?"

Ugh, hasn't he talked enough?

"Shoot"

"There are millions of low bloods, fighting and killing each other, right now and at any given moment. No doubt you've been amongst them at one point. But where they have confronted death twice, thrice, maybe a dozen times, you've met countless more foes, some outclassing you in number, in sheer strength, in psionics. What is it that makes it you came out on top, and they perished?"  

You consider answering with something stupid, that a noble would like, like "idk, i guess i'm just better", but in your walk, obnoxiously slow though it was, you've grown just a smidgen of respect for the man and his strange passion for arboreal botany. Here you were, thinking shit about your species' sense of artistry, might as well say something worthwhile.

"I think it's just luck. No matter how skilled, strong and prepared you are, at the end of the day you enter a battle with some amount of unknown information. Everyone risks death, i've just been lucky enough to hit twelve on every roll of my d—"

"WRONG!"

His scream makes you take a step back. Shadow hits your face. Dusk has set. The sun is now behind the Mansion.

"It is because you are better, Lenote!"

Its mass cannot be distinguished from its shadow which has now passed your head and runs ever deeper from whence you came.

"Highbloods are stronger than Lowblood, Psions are stronger than Mundanes, Number is stronger than being alone."

You now realize that at some point the man shifted from leading the walk to walking besides you. He takes a step closer to you, or so you think. It's too dark, you can't be sure.

"And you, Maipur Lenote, could come all this way to my doorstep because your talent with the flame and the blade, because your cunning as killer, it allowed you survive even without those cheap advantages of circumstances."

You could swear he has gotten taller. But you could not, you cannot see. You hear movement from where he is, but it's not his, it's something else. Is there a beast there, with him, in the shadows? An alien? Why would it not sneak up from behind you? Throughout this talk you've been certain you could kill him with relatively little risk if need be, but now you're not so sure.

"We ask this job of you, Maipur Lenote, not because you are some petty mercenary. But because you are an Artist. with Death."

It's lunging towards you. You take out your machete and swing in the air. You hit nothing. You equip your Giant Paintbrush and the steel plate under its hairs is hit by the flint of the machete. Sparks fly. It ignites the tar coating your brush. Light again.

He is just standing there. Normal Sized. No beast anywhere. Nothing lunging at you. Just a bitch with a smug face while you're flipping the fuck out.

"Is there a problem, Maipur Lenote?"

"Uh, yeah, it's dark as shit in here. I was just getting us some light."

"Ah, I see. I happen to have excellent nocturnal vision, so i don't always notice these things. My apologies."

Excellent nocturnal vision my ass, you think. His pupils were completely undilated, there's no way he could see shit in there. Finally, you reach the manor's patio.

"We have arrived."

He opens the door and signals you to get in.

"Come on in, the rest of The Court is eagerly awaiting to meet you."

"You're not gonna ask me to leave my weapons at the door?"

"Of course not, we have manners."

You step through the doorframe. As the doors closes behind you, you think back to your talk with that man. Or rather, the one he has had with you. You think that, in your little game furriers, you might have ended up the prey.

Excipit: Gods damn, i love writing. You forget how fun this shit is when you start thinking about how you "should write" instead of actually doing it. I've cut the Lusus and Personality section. The former, i think i'm doing away with since it's not relevant most of the time. Ajiana Carcha (this guy) had a very weak mosquito-type lusus who died from getting crushed/killed when he was pretty young. It broke his heart really badly </3. That's enough lusus info, imo, maybe i'll integrate it into Physicality for future posts. Personality i'm not doing away with, but when you've got such an extensive short story, plus for an antagonist who you generally want to keep mysterious more than a protagonist, i think it's not necessary. I dream of a day where i'll be able to just say stupid non-sequiturs in the Excipit. Instead most of it is taken up on the actual subject of the post. Ugh, so annoying.

#improv writing #custom extended zodiac #extended zodiac #custom troll sign #homestuck #troll sign #homestuck improv writing #homestuck oc #alternia #homestuck worldbuilding #troll oc #homestuck fanfiction #troll psionics

[ghostlytravelerstranger]

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[heliads]

Zombies and Descendants imagine being Mal twin sister and meeting the wolf pack.

i miss descendants

masterlist

You are walking irritably through the woods, wondering why on earth you possibly thought this was a reasonable risk to take. Technically, you know exactly why you’re here, as you’re the one who put yourself up to this, but still. Rehashing it all will do good things for you.

Besides, you’re fairly certain that your twin is just as much to blame as you are. People always like to pretend that the two of you are one and the same, so why shouldn’t you put responsibility on her shoulders as well? It’s only fair.

See, the two of you went into this whole thing because you were bored and in need of a good adventure, a combination that should have all of Auradon running for cover. As they should, honestly. Between you and Mal, you can do just about anything, and your intentions are never as pure as some would like them to be.

That’s what landed you here, at any rate, another plot with your sister. You’re still finalizing the details, but you know the rough idea. The most important thing right now is getting the proper ingredients. You’re here in the middle of some dense and dark forest in the hopes of finding some ultra-powerful moonstone, while your sister gets to go to the beach with her prince boyfriend to track down a weather machine. It doesn’t seem entirely fair.

There’s no turning back, though, not now. You have a reputation to uphold as the bravest of the VKs, and besides, you rather like the scheme you and your sister are finalizing. If you back out now, you won’t get the chance to bring your mad plans to fruition, and what’s the point of that?

Your mind is made up, but that doesn’t make the going any easier from here on out. The thickets and glens of this forest seem determined to keep you from your destination, knotting together into one dense mass of wilderness that never seems to let up. You’ve been traveling for a while now, but you don’t know that you’re any further into the woods than when you started.

Perhaps you’ve been going in circles, or perhaps the forest is so determined to bar you entry that you’ve never made it inside in the first place, and have simply been pacing along the edge of a maze without ever seeing the labyrinthine passageways inside. Regardless, you know that you need to make up some ground before you become hopelessly lost, so you close your eyes and cast a spell.

It’s nothing major, just a simple tracker charm, but it does the trick. Your footsteps become more sure, and you easily make your way across ravines and through narrow patches of forest that had been practically impenetrable before.

In fact, you’re going so fast that you almost don’t notice that you’re no longer alone until you come face to face with your mysterious interlopers. You look up abruptly, startling yourself out of the spell, and find yourself locking eyes with a group of people who appear about your age. They’re all wearing shades of purple, orange, and brown, with fur lining most of their clothes. What draws your attention most of all is the shock of white dashing their hair, a highlight in one girl’s braids and a few loose curls on another boy’s head. They all appear to be together, in some way or another, and draw to each other as instinctively as you do to the other VKs.

A girl with long, dark curly hair approaches you first; evidently, she’s the one in charge. “Who are you, and what are you doing on our turf?”

It’s all the standard intruder business, a speech you’ve heard about a dozen times before in different parts of the Isle of the Lost, but-

“I’m sorry, did you just growl at me?”

Technically, you’re supposed to be shutting up around now, letting your hosts have enough time to repeat their whole mantra about how this is their home and you’re just an invader, but you’re so taken aback by the lead girl’s snarl that you forget yourself.

The girl blinks at you, and you continue on. “Look, I don’t know who you are, but you definitely just growled at me. Who does that? Have you ever spoken to another person before?”

The girl seems like she definitely wants to rip your head off, but before she can do anything, a boy comes up at her side, laying a hand protectively on her arm to restrain her. He also looks like he’s holding back a laugh.

“I think what Willa means to say is that we would like to know who you are, seeing as none of us have ever seen you before, and what it is that you want. Also, she growled at you because we’re werewolves. It’s kind of what we do.”

You mumble something under your breath about how that still doesn’t make the growling thing okay, it’s definitely very weird, but Willa’s shooting you a death glare so you give the whole thing up.

“Right, then. I’m Y/N, I’m not a werewolf but I can growl if that makes you guys feel better. I’m here because I need to borrow a moonstone. Have you seen one around, by any chance?”

The boy who’d been smiling at you suddenly freezes in place, expression shut down by something almost like fear. “What do you want with the moonstone?”

You point a finger at him. “So you do know where it is! Fantastic.”

He shakes his head, taking an involuntary step forward as he talks. “No, not fantastic. How do you know about our moonstone?”

You shrug. “Same way anyone hears about a moonstone, I guess. You said it was yours, though. Who are you?”

Willa breaks in, shooting daggers at both you for asking questions and the boy for answering them. “I think we need to know more about you first. You’re the one on our turf.”

You sigh with a touch more drama than necessary. “Alright, alright. My name is Y/N, daughter of Maleficent, sister of Mal, witch-in-training, all that. I need to borrow your moonstone because it’s supposedly the most powerful in this hemisphere. I’m not trying to intrude on your turf, just trying to make ends meet for a spell.”

The boy’s brows furrow adorably. “You’re a witch?”

You nod. “Yes, and you’re a nameless werewolf.”

Thankfully, he takes the cue. “Oh, right. I’m Wyatt. You know Willa, and this is Wynter and the rest of our pack. You’re on our side of the Forbidden Forest right now.”

He pauses a moment, then keeps going, as if unable to hold himself back. “Out of curiosity, what kind of spell? Not that it matters, of course,” Wyatt adds hastily when Willa glares at him, “You wouldn’t be getting the moonstone anyway, but I feel like it would be cool if we could learn about it. I’ve never met a witch before.”

You wink at him. “And I’ve never met a werewolf.”

Willa sighs with enough theatrics to rival even you. “Alright, stop flirting with each other. Do you need our moonstone or just a moonstone?”

Wyatt tilts his head towards Willa, as if finally seeing what she’s getting at. “Actually, I have an idea. How about you come back to our place so we can talk this over without a confrontation? It’ll be much more friendly.”

He says this last bit with pointed stares at both you and Willa. You do like the idea of getting to know this boy a little more, so you shrug. “Sounds good to me.”

Not to be outdone, Willa nods as well. “Just don’t try anything, witch. We’ve got our eyes on you.”

You smirk. “Same for you, werewolf.”

Wyatt rolls his eyes, then starts to head off. You match his speed measure for measure, although he only starts talking again once you’ve started off at a good pace and are out of Willa’s hearing distance.

“She doesn’t mean any insult, you know. Willa, I mean. We’ve just had enough problems with humans trying to infringe on our rights that she’s suspicious of anyone she doesn’t know trying to take what’s ours.”

You blow out a low breath. “Oh, trust me, I get it. My sister, friends, and I used to live on this place called the Isle of the Lost, while all the picture-perfect kids got to stay on the mainland. If there’s anything I get, it’s wanting to defend what’s yours.”

Wyatt looks surprised at this. “You mean you didn’t get to go in the nicer bits of town because they were afraid of what they thought you could be?”

You glance over at him, impressed. “That’s exactly right, actually. Sounds like we’ve got more in common than I thought.”

Wyatt looks rather pleased that he’s managed to win you over. “Oh, sweetheart, I think we’re going to get along just fine. Trust me on that.”

You direct another grin his way. “I can’t wait.”

You’d gladly go on trading flirtatious comments back and forth with Wyatt until the end of time, but the rest of the werewolves are coming to a stop, so you reluctantly cease your chatter.

Up ahead, Willa gestures towards a mammoth cavern of rock. “This is our base. The only people allowed in here are the people we trust enough to not stab us in the back.”

You whisper something to Wyatt as you approach the stone caves. “Do you trust me enough to not stab you in the back?”

He smirks back at you, casually letting his arm cross your waist in the guise of helping you over some uneven terrain. “I’d love to see you get close enough to try.”

Right now, you’re grateful to the night sky for being dark enough to cover up the heat in your cheeks. No one’s been able to get under your skin enough to shake you up like this in a long time, but you’re not entirely sure that you mind it with Wyatt.

However, you’ve got other things to think about right now; namely, getting around the werewolves’ preferred place of residence. It’s huge, far bigger than you first thought. Stone walls bedecked in glowing paintings or strung over by vines of ivy open up to wide-walled caverns host to dozens of werewolves, even more than the party that greeted you in the forest.

You manage to tear your attention from the caves long enough to realize that Wyatt is looking at you with a pleased expression on his face. “What?” You ask.

He just shrugs. “It��s impressive, that’s all.” He’s not looking at the caverns as he says this, however, as if he’s really talking about something or someone else.

Willa leads the way through the caves until you’re in the central room. From the moment you stand in the arched opening, you realize why you’ve been brought here. A massive moonstone, about the size of Beauty’s Beast all curled up, lies in the middle of the cavern. You can feel its rush of power even from where you stand.

You whistle slowly. “Wow.”

Willa nods, watching you like a hawk. “This is what you’re after?”

You incline your head. “Yeah, but this is way more than I need. I mean, using even a tenth of its power could overwhelm any spell. Besides, I don’t think I could lift this long enough to carry it back to Auradon.”

Wyatt raises a finger in the air as if figuring something out. “Actually, you don’t have to.”

He pulls at a leather cord around his neck, revealing a small chunk of moonstone threaded around the strap. It glows with the same sort of energy as the larger moonstone, like they’re both connected or formed from similar types of magic.

“Could this sort of thing work?”

You draw closer to him instinctively, holding your hand up to the moonstone to feel the waves of power emanating from it. “Yeah, actually. That’s perfect.”

Willa looks relieved, or perhaps disappointed that she doesn’t get to claw you to death after all. “Excellent. I’ll leave you to get that sorted out.”

She, Wynter, and most of the other wolves that had escorted you here disperse throughout the cavern, although you have no doubt that most of them are still watching you. Regardless, it now feels as if you are utterly alone with Wyatt.

He pauses a moment, then tugs the cord containing the smaller moonstone off of his neck in one quick movement. “Here, take mine.”

You stare at him confusedly as he places the stone in your palm, carefully folding your fingers around it. “I thought this was supposed to be keeping you safe, though. I can’t ask you to give this up.”

Wyatt lifts a shoulder casually. “I’ll get another one. This way, you’ll have something to remember me by.”

A soft smile touches your lips. “That’s very sweet of you, Wyatt.”

He flashes you a fanged grin. “I’ve been known to be sweet before.”

You laugh. “Well, I appreciate it anyway. Guess that means I should be getting back to Auradon.”

As you say it, you realize how little you want to go. Wouldn’t it be nice to stay here for just a little longer, get to know Wyatt better over a meal or something?

Wyatt, to his credit, looks just as crestfallen as you feel. “I can walk with you to the edge of our territory, if you like, make sure you don’t get lost.”

You smile at him, grateful that at least you won’t have to say goodbye quite yet. “I’d like that.”

The two of you head out of the caverns, although the journey lasts far shorter than you’d like. You and Wyatt stop, and you begin a spell to open a portal to Auradon. It’ll be far faster this way, and you’re certain that you’re already running late.

Wyatt stares through the gateway at the picturesque streets visible behind you. “That’s your home?”

You nod. “You can visit anytime you like. It’s just a bit farther through the forest.”

The corners of his lips quirk up. “I think I’d like that.”

You think you’d like that quite a bit. Saying goodbye is hard despite the fact that you’ve only known each other for a short period of time, like some part of you knows that you ought to stick together for far longer.

Just as you’re stepping through the portal, though, Wyatt grabs your hand, twisting you around just long enough to press a kiss to your cheek. Then you’re through to the other side, watching him disappear into the blue sparks of magic. You’re left standing there, one hand raising unconsciously to touch the place on your cheek where his lips had touched.

You’re not sure how long you stand there, but when you manage to focus again, a purple-haired girl is striding briskly towards you. She looks pleased with herself.

“There you are, Y/N. You won’t believe what I had to go through, far too much happy-go-lucky singing and dancing for my taste, but at least it’s done. Do you have what we need? Y/N? Y/N, you with us?”

It takes considerable effort to snap yourself out of your happy daze. “Yeah, sorry. I have the moonstone.”

You raise Wyatt’s necklace triumphantly, and Mal nods, although she’s starting to look concerned. “Did something happen in the forest?”

Mal’s voice seems to indicate a fight, or some kind of accident, but your smile just grows. “Yeah, I think it did.”

You don’t know how long it’ll take you to get back to the Forbidden Forest, but you certainly plan on trying. You owe Wyatt a kiss, after all, and you don’t intend on leaving him hanging.

disney tag list: @rogueanschel, @lovesanimals0000, @thatfangirl42

#wyatt lykensen #wyatt lykensen imagines #wyatt lykensen x reader #wyatt lykensen oneshot #zombies #zombies imagines #zombies x reader #zombies oneshot #z-o-m-b-i-e-s #z-o-m-b-i-e-s imagines #z-o-m-b-i-e-s x reader #z-o-m-b-i-e-s oneshot #disney #disney imagines #disney x reader #zombies wyatt #zombies wyatt imagines #zombies wyatt x reader #zombies wyatt oneshot #disney oneshot

[thebibliosphere]

I’m writing this down for posterity before I forget it but I just woke up from the most bonkers dream involving @natalieironside, an art heist and the National Gallery in London, except it wasn’t like, London London, it was more like the domed city in Logan’s Run.

Basically, the powers that be were shutting down art museums across the globe because art was banned and considered to be a radical and dangerous expressions of self and a threat to Rational Thinking.

This was a phrase that kept coming up, over and over. Rational Thinking. Rational Thinkers understand the value of work. Rational Thinkers understand why we need rules and restrictions. Rational Thinkers don’t waste their time on art and literature—you don’t need those things. You want those things. And wanting things is selfish. You already have three meals a day and a place for your families to sleep. Why do you want more? Why are you being selfish? Why can’t you just be Rational and be happy with what you have? Don’t you realize how much worse things could be? Because we can make them worse…

Anyway, it was fucking horrific, but instead of destroying priceless pieces of artwork that were deemed a threat to Rational Thinking, the Powers That Be were selling them off into private collections. And @natalieironside and I were part of a global resistance to steal them back.

It was all very surreal, like a cross between the aforementioned Logan’s Run and a 1940s noir film, the world occasionally turning monochromatic depending on where we were and who we were with, and looking like a 70s sic-fi at others. @natalieironside never looked the same more than twice, I assume because I have no idea what she actually looks like, but it was also one of her skills. You couldn’t put out wanted posters for someone who never looked the same more than once, so it made her perfect for walking into rich people’s houses and liberating the Mona Lisa from wherever they’d hung it. Except because of dream logic, she’d been made somehow, and couldn’t get past some sort of bio-sensor that allowed you entry into the city proper, and that’s where I came in.

I was also me, but I wasn’t. For one thing, I could eat chocolate (weirdly enough I can still taste it on my tongue now I’m awake. Bodies are weird) and for another I was more like myself in my 20’s. Less incapacitated by pain and still able to run a fair distance if necessary. But I knew my current health status was coming, and I wanted to do something important before it hit. So I was going to rescue Van Gogh’s Sunflowers painting from the National Gallery in London before it could be sold off at a private auction to the highest bidder.

I don’t really remember a lot of the run up to it except that there was a lot of downtime spent just trying to survive. We spent some time walking through the park next to my parents house, discussing strategies. At one point I remember asking if I’d need a gun and @natalieironside turned to me and said “no, I promised @mothman-etd I’d get you to Prague safely and that’s what we’re going to do.”

I have no idea why Prague or why I wasn’t allowed weapons. Dream Logic.

Anyway. I was paired up with a faceless man (I literally don’t remember what he looked like) and we were supposed to pose as wealthy benefactors going to this private auction being held to sell the Sunflowers off to the highest bidder. We had an invitation @natalieironside had stolen from someone else. Once inside we split up, him to sit in on the auction, and me to sneak off to where the painting was being kept hidden and broadcast via television. A lot of chicanery I don’t really remember happened. I remember @natalieironside talking to me through an ear piece we’d cleverly disguised as an earring. While walking through the underbelly of the crumbling National Gallery, I found more paintings that’d been damaged because they weren’t deemed valuable enough. I tried to save some of them, cutting them out of their frames and rolling them up to store inside the hollow space inside my walking cane (the more the dream progressed the worse my health deteriorated to more of what it’s like now) But there was only so many I could save and still have room for what I came for.

Weirdly, the room where the Sunflowers wasn’t guarded. It was like they thought no one could get past the barrier of wealth they’d erected around the place, and that was enough to keep poor people from reclaiming art. Just as I was about to cut the painting loose, it turned back to liquid paint, slithering off the canvas like a living thing and reforming in my hands as literal actual sunflowers that kept turning toward the lights. Unperturbed I said “got them” into my earring, and took off down the dark hallways again. I walked right out the building without anyone stopping me. After all, why would they? I wasn’t carrying a painting, I was carrying flowers.

I have no idea what happened to the faceless man. Only that I made it back to the underground where @natalieironside was waiting to drive us back through the tunnels to the place where people that refused to be Rational Thinkers were hiding. It looked like a giant white train terminal that’d once been used for global travel around the globe under the ocean, but had been shut down because it allowed for too upward mobility.

The place where the art was being stored was a literal train car that’d been turned into a traveling museum. Presumably to make it harder to find. Once there, I put the sunflowers into a vase. I tried to explain how the painting had melted, but no one seemed to mind. The important thing was the Idea of the painting remained, and was free for people to look at. The other paintings inside my cane were also rescued and put back into frames. They would all be part of the moving museum, and people from all around the world would get a chance to see them.

Things began to fade at that point. The dream dissolving around me like the painting had. But I remember looking at the Sunflowers and seeing that they’d dropped seeds everywhere, and more flowers were growing up from the seeds wherever they landed, their happy yellow heads turning to face the glimpses of sunlight as the train broke the surface of the ocean briefly to take in clean oxygen.

The last thing I remember from the dream was @natalieironside offering me a bar of chocolate. I said “I can’t eat that anymore” and her response was “save it for the next life” and then I woke up to a Shih Tzu snoring in my ear like the rumble of a train and the light of the air purifier across from the bed blinking in my face.

Dreams are weird.

#dreams #long post #personal #it’s been a long time since I dreamt something so complex #usually I’m just having nightmares about being back at my old work

[fang-wife]

»» — { ♡ } —— { ♡ } —— { ♡ } — ««

voyeur | m. izuku 

➳ tags ;; sub!izuku, dom!reader, watching hentai together?, reader is mean and nice </3, quirkless college au!izuku, corruption kink/religious guilt, unprotected sex/creampies, established relationship, afab reader

➳ wc ;; 2.1k

➳ a /n ;; @/sems-diarie made a post abt this a while ago n my brain wouldn’t let it be so. here we are </3 

➳ plot ;; izuku didn’t sneak you into your dorm to watch.. this with you. but he has a habit of letting you do what you like. 

»» — { ♡ } —— { ♡ } —— { ♡ } — ««

This is embarassing. 

He knows this is embarassing - more embarassing than he really cares to admit to. He should really know better by now then to let you do as you please. You’re always stringing him along with your schemes and plans and he loses sight of his morals. His standards. 

Then again, he doesn’t have any at this point. The point of him paying for this single dorm was so that he could have space to focus. It wasn’t to sneak you in when his R.A. wasnt looking. Even more then that, it wasn’t to do.. whatever this was. 

It’d be one thing if he was having sex. That’s a normal thing to do in college, to sneak your partner in and smash. But you’re you, and all you ever seem to have planned for him are hair-brained schemes. It’s what this feels like - when you sit on his twin size bed and pat the empty space next to you. The distrust in his expression makes you laugh.. He sighs and does what you’ve asked. 

“What’re you doing?” 

He sounds exasperated. You laugh - too pleasantly for him to be comfortable. You type something into the search bar. Green eyes widen, skin warm and blushing. 

“Wh-what’re you doing?” 

You laugh as you prop the computer on the bed. You grin at him, tucking yourself under his arm. The website mocks him, all black background and animated women with huge tits covering the screen edge to edge. 

“You know something, after you’re done using incognito mode - you’re supposed to switch out to regular search, you know,” you explain. Your hand rests on his thigh. Deku freezes. 

The sound of your voice has always been something of a vice. It gets a little raspy like this - sultry in a way that has him squirming. He doesn’t know what to do. He can feel the heat of your body. 

“Would you know my surprise when I borrow your phone to look up when the convience store closes,” you inch closer, press further “only to see..” 

He knows what you saw before you announce it. His skin feels like it’s on fire, tuning out whatever description you’ve been giving of what he chose to watch. 

Maybe it was the way he was raised - but he always had such a specific sort of guilt towards pornography. Always told himself he shouldn’t watch things like that, shouldn’t touch himself. Izuku had always been a good, well-behaved boy. Done the right thing even when it was hard. 

Meeting you had changed that, changed him. He found his body craving you when he couldn’t control it and he ended up here - watching porn and jerking off with his shirt in his mouth. It’s all come back to haunt him, really. 

“I’m not mad, y’know,” ― and your tone goes soft - it’s assuring enough that Izuku can whimper out an okay, but you’re not done ― “I’m just curious. Can’t we watch it together?,” 

“That’s ― !” 

You flutter your lashes him. 

“That’s?” 

He has a million words that he can say. That he should say. Bad, wrong, immoral. Words that belong at the end of the sentence to describe what he’s doing with you and what he’s considering. 

None of that comes out. 

“That’s.. too much” 

You grin at him. 

“Do you not want too?” 

“..I didn’t say that, it’s just -” 

Your hand squeezes his thigh until your stiletto's dig into them. Your mouth trails his jaw with hot, open mouth kisses until your turning his head to face you. A hand splayed on his face, tongue deep in his mouth. French kissing makes him pant - hands twitching eagerly to touch you. He watches, dazed - the spit trail of saliva that stretches between you two. 

He’s so easy, it’s cute. You press forward with a chaste kiss. 

“Show me what you were watching, Izuku,” 

His hand trembles as he leans forward. He remembers the title - doesn’t know if that’s good or bad. Within seconds, it shows up and he clicks. You lean forward too, observing the tags with a small smile on your face. 

“Milf, NTR, Gangbang,” 

“S-stop reading them!” 

You giggle. 

Without warning - you press play. Izuku finds himself frantic. Worried about the sound, the time, all of it - but you don’t seem to care. The AD comes on and you skip that too. It’s on. A familiar arousal blooms in his chest, the memory of what he’d seen appearing. You settle between his legs, your back pressed to his chest. You bring his hands around your waist.

“Let’s watch ~” 

Izuku face twists with displeasure. The plot nothing to ride home about - a lonely housewife goes out to a club and finds someone to take care of her needs. At first it’s just one stranger at the club - then two, then she’s surrounded and its too much. 

Izuku assumes you’re gonna find him disgusting, but when he looks at your face - you’re smiling, heart-beating in your chest. His eyes blow wide when you take his hand between your legs. You’re wet and you’re letting him touch you and he’s trying his hardest not to show how much he’s shaking. 

A little sigh of pleasure leaves your mouth when Izuku very carefully rubs your clit. It throbs under the pressure of big fingers - you hold his wrist and moan. He can hear the porn in the background but it doesn’t serve to distract him from you. 

“You want me to go n’ get fucked by a bunch of strangers, ‘zuku?” 

He shakes his head furiously. 

“Then you just like watching depraved shit, huh?” 

Unable to argue with you or with the the way his cock twitches and jumps in his jeans, he opts to whine. You can feel his it against your lower-back, the little wet-spot that presses to your thin tshirt. He’s too turned onto think properly - watching the way your body jerks and twitches. 

The woman on screen is stuffed to the brim with cock - it’s all over exaggerated he knows, but he thinks that’s why he likes it. Maybe he just likes the idea of fucking someone that stuffed fulled of cum, how it leaks and pours onto every surface and the way her cunt just seems to take it. And Izuku is such a good, well behaved boy - it’s never crossed his mind to think about doing it to you. 

And no, he doesn’t really want to see you get fucked by so many men but if there were more than one of him he’d be more than inclined to let you. His chest feels tight forgetting to breath. 

He thinks maybe you’re some kind of witch because you always seem to know what he wants before he does. The right way to push all of his buttons. 

“Oh, I see’ ― and he’s afraid of whatever words come out of your mouth next ― “you wanna fuck me full of your cum, Izuku? Wanna know how it feels raw?” 

He moans - loud and shameless and needy against your ear. A breathless laugh leaves your mouth because that’s exactly what he wants. He wants to fuck you full of cum, just picturing how good it might feel. 

You sit up on your knees and bend over a little - pulling short-shorts beneath the curve of your ass and thickest parts of your thigh. Your panties are drenched, clinging to your folds. He inhales sharply, frozen till as you lean forward - pulling them to one side. 

“Take your cock out ‘n fuck me then, baby” ― you challenge, dark and dangerous. Everything about you is so sinful and too tempting for him to ignore. His cock aches ― “Do your best”  

His body moves before he has a proper chance to feel shame. Whatever devils been whispering in his ear (read: you) has won whatever leftover dignity he has left. Without a proper word, his cock stands to attention. His hands are fidgety but they mange to settle on your waist. He guides you down on his dick, bottom lipped pulled between his teeth hard enough to draw blood. 

“Oh, fuck” 

He’s going to cum right away if he doesn’t take a breather. This is the first time he’s feeling you, and it feels so much better than he could understand. The lingering thoughts of the dangerous act silence by how tight and how wet and how willing your pussy is for him. The way your walls twitch - ache shamelessly around his cock. He’s fucking sliding in and out of you - it feels like a special privilege he’s done nothing to earn.

He’s shivering, over and over. When he looks down, he’s not all the way in. He’s not sure if he’s praying to god for the right reason - for forgiveness. All he can think about is how good it feels to be inside and how he absolutely doesn’t want to do anything else. 

“How’s it feel, Izuku?” 

He groans at the sound of your voice, the way you clench down on him and stretch so tightly around his shaft. He’s too wrapped up in the feeling of your cunt - like heaven and silk. 

“F-feels so, so good” 

Part of you thinks you should ride him, but another part of you is more interested in seeing how he fucks you. You snap the laptop closed and push it to the other side of the bed, before flipping around and laying on your back. His cock slips out and he snaps into reality - the way you have your legs in the air and your arms out. 

“I’ll let you fuck me as many times as you want today,” ― your legs reach and wrap around his waist, easily forcing his cock back inside ― “go on,” 

Izuku is a mess, really. His pants are only half-way pulled down and he’s wearing a nerdy graphic t-shirt. He’s borderline in hysterics over how good your pussy feels and can’t do anything other than thank you repeatedly and fuck you with an animalistic need. It’s clumsy like you’d expect, but he makes up for it with sheer enthusiasm. 

His cock is long and pretty - hits every spot you need it too. Izuku fucks you with shallow, sloppy thrusts - so needy and chasing his orgasm. Selfish and inexperienced. Every time he pushes forward, you can feel he’s throbbing. Aching to cum inside and unload. 

You reach a hand between the two of you to finish on your own time - planning on cumming before him. He doesn’t seem to care. 

“Ngh, ohh my god, feel’s’good” 

“Yeah? Gonna cum inside me, handsome? Makin’ such a pretty face for me” 

His stomach churns at the way you call him pretty. It sounds so sweet and adoring - but he knows that you’re a bully. He knows that about but fucks you with all his strength anyways - overly frustrated and fucked out of his mind by the feeling. Like a drug. He likes you so much he feels stupid over it. 

“Yeah, yeah ‘m gonna” 

Your own orgasm washes over you in a pleasant wave, squeezing his cock with force. He gasp and goes faster - all the thoughts washed away from his head. He needs to finish more than he needs anything. More than he needs to sleep for his 6am work-out and 8am class. More than he needs to be quiet because the walls of his dorm are paper thin. More than he needs to exercise self-control, he needs to cum so fuckin bad. 

“Look at me,” 

He follows your command, like always - and you look amused and fucked out just like he is. And Izuku has really never been this into anyone before so seeing you evokes feelings he can’t understand. 

“Oh, fuuck“ 

Briefly he understands that he really just came by looking at you, but nothing really makes sense to him. His eyes are heavy and he’s drooling onto your shoulder, spasming and clinging to your body with the most needy little whimpers. It’s so lewd, how he can feel his cum spurt out and coat your insides and his cock. It’s all so sinful but it feels so good, he can’t bring himself to care. 

“So,” ― you smile, full of mischief ― “if you want to be like that, we’ve got a few rounds to go” 

Izuku splutters at your comment and you laugh. He knows you’re not joking and he whines. You really are a bad influence on him. But with the way his cock is twitching to life again.. 

He might not be any better. 

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#deku x reader #bnha x reader #bnha x you #bnha x y/n #deku x y/n #deku x you #gonna post first w/o tags then add them in #knk ;; [ unprotected ] #sub!bnha #sub!izuku #knk ;; [ corruption ]